#i hope this just fell out of a trash bag instead of being littered on purpose

[feminismandcats-blog]

the only time trash on my street has ever made me happy I'm so glad plan b is still accessible and legal near me

[ Image description: empty package of plan B contraceptive in the street next to a curb. Weeds are growing in a seam of the curb right next to the empty package of plan B ]

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Hey buddy,” Spencer sat down in the chair next to Henry who was coloring at the table after dinner.

“Hi Uncle Spencer,” Henry replied, switching his orange marker out for a green one.

“So Josephine seemed pretty cool,” Spencer started.

He wanted to know more about his possible kid before going to Y/N. If it was true and she would let him meet her, he wanted to know all about her.

“Yeah, she sits at the same table group as me in class. One time when we were playing tag at recess, I fell and hurt my knee but she kissed it three times and said that’s what her Mommy does when she has a boo boo and it didn’t hurt anymore,” Henry explained.

“Does she talk about her Mommy a lot?” Spencer asked.

“She loves her Mommy like sooooo much. She says her Mommy says she doesn’t need a Daddy because her Mommy loves her extra,” Henry smiled.

“That’s nice,” Spencer said, getting up from the table.

Spencer was glad to hear that Y/N and Josephine seemed to be having a good life. He was just saddened that it didn’t include him even if she wasn’t his kid. He didn’t blame Y/N for not telling him if it was his. He honestly would have had no idea how he would have handled that news back then.

-

“And that is the difference between a stressor and a trigger. Any questions?” Spencer slid his hands into his pockets as he looked out into the audience.

The students were silent. Most of the girls appeared to be in a daze but still looking at him. Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Okay well then, I will see you next Monday. We will be covering chapter four section three of your textbook regarding victimology so I would suggest skimming it over before class,” Spencer finished.

He grabbed satchel from the desk and quickly exited the lecture hall. He had looked up the class schedules in the administration office and Y/N was also finishing a lecture at this time. Spencer was hoping to catch her before she could run away again.

He quietly slipped into the back of the lecture hall, taking a seat in the last row.

“Okay! That is it for today. Remember, we have a lab next class so closed toe shoes only and long hair tied back please. Have a great day, everyone,” you announced.

Students began to file out of the room, some coming up to your desk with questions so Spencer hung out in his seat a little longer. Once the last student had their question answered, Spencer got up and made his way to your desk as you were packing up your things. When you heard the footsteps, you looked up with a friendly smile that was immediately replaced with a grimace.

You grabbed your bag and keys and bolted. However, Spencer was expecting this and was hot on your tail.

“Y/N, please slow down. I just want to talk,” he pleaded as he chased you across the campus, garnering funny looks from people passing by.

You sighed and halted your movement. Spencer was not expecting this so he almost crashed into you. You took a step back to regain your personal space.

You looked around, noticing some people were staring.

“Let’s go to the coffee shop on campus,” you suggested.

Spencer still remembered how you took your coffee after all these years and insisted on paying even though you told him that wasn’t necessary.

You both sat down in a quiet booth in the corner. You were nervously fiddling with the coffee cup sleeve and avoiding eye contact.

“I-Is Josephine mine?” Spencer asked.

You could feel his eyes burrowing into your skull. You couldn’t lie to him, I mean you could but you wouldn’t get away with it because he was a profiler.

You finally looked up and made eye contact, “Yes, she is,” you stated.

Spencer smiled softly with tears brimming his eyes.

“Did you know before I Ieft?” Spencer sniffled.

“No, I found out after,” you responded.

Silence fell over the both of you.

“Why did you break up with me, Spencer? It all happened so fast that I never got a reason. We could have made long-distance work if you actually cared,” you spoke softly.

“Y/N please do not doubt that I cared about you. I loved you, I think I still do after all these years. I just thought you would be better off without me holding you back and not having a lot of personal time to visit you. It doesn’t mean I ever stopped thinking about you. I just thought you deserved someone better,” Spencer explained.

“Yeah well no one wanted to date the single mom in college. Guys would run for the hills when I told them,” you chucked sardonically.

“I’m sorry” is all Spencer could manage to say.

He thought he was doing Y/N a favor by breaking up with her but instead he made everything worse. He abandoned her to figure out how to take care of their child on her own.

“Can I-um...I would love to get to know her more,” Spencer stuttered.

“Spencer, I don’t know if that’s the best-” you started to say.

“Please,” Spencer begged.

You closed your eyes and exhaled.

“You can come with me to pick her up from the school if you want. You can play with her for an hour with my supervision. Under no circumstances are you to tell her that you are her father,” you demanded.

“Understood,” Spencer nodded.

You finished the last sip of your coffee and slid out of the booth, tossing it in the trash can.

“Let’s go,” you motioned for him to follow you.

Spencer scrambled out of his seat to catch up with you.

You unlocked the car and you both hopped in. Spencer noticed the backseat of your car had random toys and articles of children’s clothing scattered around and he smiled at just the thought that they belonged to his daughter.

When you pulled into the school parking lot, you turned to speak to him for the first time since he entered the car.

“You stay here,” you said as you turned the car off.

Spencer watched as you approached the line of kids and a genuine smile grew on your face. Josephine ran over to you and was immediately scooped up and littered in kisses. Josephine was dressed in overalls with a dinosaur sweater and a mini pair of converse. Y/N whispered something in her ear and she nodded as they made their way back to the car.

“Jo, you remember Spencer, Henry’s friend?” you opened the car door.

“Hi Josephine!” Spencer greeted.

Jo snuggled herself closer into your neck.

“Why are you being shy today, Baby J? Remember you already met him? He told you all those cool dino facts. Maybe he can tell you some more on the way home,” you bounced the child in your arms a few times before gently placing her into the car seat and buckling her in.

“Josephine, I remember you said stegosauruses were your favorite. Stegosaurus actually means ‘roofed lizard’ and their brains were the size of ping pong balls,” Spencer was looking at the child through the rearview mirror.

He heard the sweetest little giggle. The sound was music to his ears.

“Mommy, did you hear that? They have ping pong balls for brains,” Jo laughed.

“Yes, baby, I heard but I think Spencer said they were the size of ping pong balls, not actual ping pong balls,” you smiled as you corrected her.

Spencer turned around to face her now that Jo was feeling more comfortable.

“They also weighed about two tons which is about the same weight as this car,” Spencer smiled.

“Woah,” Jo exclaimed in awe.

“Okay! We’re home! Jo, you can play with Spencer for a little but then we have to do your ABC’s homework,” you explained as you parked the car in your driveway.

You lived in a small grayish blue house. It had a tiny gated backyard but you usually just took Jo to the park anyways. It was enough for the two of you. You moved in last year after accepting the job at Georgetown.

You unbuckled Jo and unlocked the front door with Spencer awkwardly standing behind you until he felt a tug on his sleeve.

“I want to show you my room,” Jo said.

“Sure! I would love to see it,” Spencer replied as he was tugged by Jo up the stairs.

Spencer laughed when he saw Jo’s bedroom. It was decked out in everything dinosaur. Dinosaur wallpaper, bed sheets, toys, and a carpet.

“You really love dinos, don’t you?” Spencer smiled.

Jo nodded, beaming as she seemed to be very proud of her room.

“Jo, I’ve got a snack for you,” Y/N called out from downstairs.

The little kid lit up even more and ran down the stairs, leaving Spencer alone in the room. He saw a small little bookshelf with picture books, mostly about dinosaurs. It was nice to know his daughter shared his love of reading.

“You have a lovely home,” Spencer complimented as he entered the kitchen.

“Thank you, I don’t know if you want some apple slices and peanut butter too. I would offer you something else but I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping this week,” you explained.

“It’s all good. If you ever need help-” Spencer began.

“We’re quite alright,” you snapped.

A silence fell over the room, even Jo picked up on it and stopped the loud chewing of her apple.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, patting the top of Jo’s head to tell her she could continue eating, “We’ve been on our own for so long that I can sometimes get a little defensive when someone suggests I can’t handle it.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I think you have done a wonderful job raising Josephine. But, I also had a single mom so I know that sometimes there just aren’t enough hours in the day,” he replied.

“Thank you,” is all you said.

Spencer glanced at his watch, “I should get going. My hour is up. If it’s okay with you, I would love to come over again sometime,” Spencer said.

“Leave your number and I’ll text you,” you replied, handing him a scrap piece of paper and a pen.

“Bye Josephine!” Spencer smiled at the kid who had peanut butter smeared all over her face.

“Ew, Jo! Did you get any in your mouth?” you laughed.

“Bye Spencer!” she attempted to wave to him as you were wiping her face and hands with a damp paper towel.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 21: An Owner

The Storybrooke Sequel to Golden Cuffs

In which Lacey just wants to belong 

Read on AO3

The condom box was open. 

Lacey Gold looked down at the crumpled plastic bag in the back seat of Mr. Gold’s Cadillac with a sickening dead feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t brought the bags in last night. It had been raining too hard and she’d been too upset after she’d seen him… seen them. Her husband, and a man she didn’t know, standing close together. Touching. 

Mr. Gold never touched anyone if he could help it. He hadn’t touched her in six months. 

And now the condom box was open. And the lid was popped up on the tube of KY jelly. And there was an empty black wrapper on the red carpet of the floor mat. And last night Mr. Gold had taken the car out late and had come back even later.  

She should be grateful that there was no sign of the actual used condom. She could imagine the thing, a limp white tube, like the skin of a snake after it had shed. Would finding it make her feel any worse? It was bad enough to imagine it sliding into a garbage can, or being casually tossed out the car window. The end of her marriage--of her life as she knew it--was nothing more than another piece of litter on the highway somewhere. 

Trash. Mr. Gold had always said she was trash.

Eyes burning, Lacey grabbed the plastic bag and headed back into the house. Mr. Gold was coming out to the garage. She pushed past him.

“Aren’t you--” he began.

But she cut him off with a “No!” and unlocked the door to the kitchen. Alone in the unlit room, she braced her hands against the counter and faced the wall.  

She sounded like a child, a two-year-old throwing a temper tantrum. For a second she wondered if Mr. Gold would come back. Maybe she hoped that he would. Maybe she hoped he would come into the kitchen and ask her what was going on. As if both of them didn’t already know. Maybe she hoped that he would comfort her--that he would try to offer some sort of explanation. Maybe she hoped that he would yell at her--that he would tell her enough was enough, that he had expectations of her behavior and he didn’t give a damn how she felt. Maybe she wanted to yell at him.

No, she definitely wanted to yell at him.

That was probably why he didn’t come into the kitchen. Over the pounding in her ears, Lacey heard the sound of the Cadillac starting up and pulling out of the garage. Mr. Gold had to open the shop, after all. That had to be more pleasant than having another emotional confrontation with his hysterical madwoman of a wife.

“Coward,” she spat. Somehow, it felt like the worst possible thing she could call her husband. “Afraid of having a fucking honest conversation.”

She was still holding the bag by the handle. Strange that the plastic hadn’t melted in the heat of her rage. Strange that the cloth clutch in her other hand hadn’t started smoking. There was fire in her heart, magma flowing through her veins instead of blood. She wanted to explode. 

She was going to explode.

Stomping through the halls and up the stairs, she threw open the door to Mr. Gold’s bedroom. It had been more than a month since she had last set foot in this room, not since the shitshow that had been their anniversary.  

Lacey didn’t dwell on coming back here. She didn’t look through the empty space inside the armoire where her clothes had been. She didn’t go into the bathroom and see if her husband had let his toiletries spread out, now that hers weren’t in the way.

She didn’t look at her pillow, at her half of the bed they used to share.

What she wanted was under the bed. Three custom-made burgundy leather cases on wheels. They looked like luggage, but they had never traveled farther than Mr. Gold’s cabin. Lined up in a row, they took up the entire length of the bed. 

There was a small padlock on each case. For most of her marriage, the three keys to these three locks were the only keys she had. Mr. Gold hadn’t trusted her to come and go in his house or his shop or his car. But he had allowed her to own these. The care and keeping of their toys was her responsibility. 

Now there was a layer of dust on the leather. Mrs. Gold wiped a streak off with her hand, then wiped her hand on her beige suede skirt. The dust blended in perfectly with her ugly, colorless clothes. Her ugly, colorless self. 

 Grunting with effort, Lacey hoisted the cases up onto the bed. Clouds of dust billowed up and fell onto Mr. Gold’s coverlet but she didn’t care. Let the bastard breathe in the disuse, let him choke on it. 

One by one, she unlocked the cases. It was easier than she would have thought, after so long. But she knew the turn of these keys like she knew her own body. The motion was fluid and smooth. Even after all this time, the click of these locks opening up sent a tingle up her spine.

It had been a ritual, once, that always began with the opening of these locks. Sometimes Mr. Gold would tell her exactly what she should bring to him. Sometimes he gave her more freedom--she could pick out a selection of what she wanted or what she thought she could handle, and then he would choose which option suited him best. Sometimes he ordered her to open the cases and wait, kneeling on the floor in an empty room. He would decide what to do with her, and she would have to take it without complaint. 

Though the outside of the cases was dusty, the black velvet lining was still pristine. The contents inside were as beautiful as ever. She used to spend hours taking care of these things. Polishing the inlaid wooden paddles, rubbing the leather restraints with saddle soap, making sure the metal chains always gleamed like new. It was all high-quality, the best money could buy, so much better than a cheap slut like her deserved.

Every item had a home, and they were all laid out, neat as the jewelry cases in Mr. Gold’s shop. The dildos and butt plugs were lined up according to size, with length taking priority over girth. Coiled ropes were likewise organized by thickness and weight and how much they could hurt her. The jewel tone colors of glass and metal and silicone stood out from the black velvet, lurid and enticing.

Lacey’s fingers grazed gently over the candles and the ball gags, the collars he put her in when he wanted to feel especially owned. Clamps that used to pinch her sensitive spots, with small, polished weights that added to the pain. Mrs. Gold had taken so much pride in these things and what they could do to her. What Mr. Gold could do to her.   

The final case was more of a catch-all, where she stored the condoms and lube and massage oils. Rubber gloves, because Mr. Gold was particular about how dirty he got his hands. And the first aid kit, for when that was necessary. Rope-cutting shears, burn cream, sterile bandages and antiseptic. Everything in the last case was the sort of thing she liked to buy at the drug store all at once, to make it obvious what they were getting up to on any given day.

She had always bought more than they would ever use. That was part of the game, part of letting people wonder if they were really seeing what she was showing them. Even when Mr. Gold was fucking her three times a day, she bought enough supplies to make it look like it was ten times a day. The two of them were sex gods--or sex demons--and they wanted the whole Goddamned town to know it. 

That was why she had bought the stuff in her hands now. She’d wanted it to look like things were normal. She’d wanted to feel normal, to pretend for just a few Goddamned minutes that the whole of her reality wasn’t ripping apart at the seams. 

So she’d bought a box of condoms that she thought would never be opened. She’d bought a tube of KY jelly she thought would never be used. For the sake of… what? Nostalgia? Keeping up appearances? Hope?

Had she really hoped that they would ever use these things again?

Lacey let out a muted shriek, a pathetic mewl of rage. It was as much noise as she could make. In a blur of motion, she spun on her heel so she wouldn’t have to look at the cases. 

But everywhere she looked there was a memory. Her and her husband, using these toys, experimenting with her body, testing her limits all over this room. They’d loved it. Even if they hadn’t loved each other, they’d loved sex. They’d loved playing games together, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain, between humiliation and adoration. He loved owning her, and she loved being owned.

All of that was gone now.

“What’s the point?” she whispered. 

She’d been trying, ever since their anniversary. She’d been trying to be more than just his sex toy. She’d thought that she could be someone else, more than just Mrs. Gold. She’d thought that allowing herself to care about her family again would help.

But she couldn’t be just Lacey French anymore either. It was good to be able to talk to her dad and her friends again, but they weren’t her husband. They had no place in her sex life. She couldn’t even talk to them about the kinds of things that got her off! Platonic and familial ties were not the same as the sheer eroticism that had once defined her marriage.

Had once defined her.

Why did it still hurt? It had been months since Mr. Gold had wanted her. Why did it feel worse, now that she knew exactly who he wanted instead? A man. That was his "Belle." A gorgeous, trim, bad boy in expensive clothes. Honestly, it made sense. Of course there was no woman in Storybrooke named Belle. That was just a nickname Mr. Gold had given to him. 

It didn’t surprise her that Mr. Gold was with a man. She knew him too well to be shocked by that. Though they’d never actually gotten anyone else to play with them, he had prepared her for an encounter with anyone of any gender. He felt the same way about men that she felt about women: Beauty was beauty. Pleasure was pleasure. Sex was sex.

I love you, Belle.

And love, apparently, was love.   

Lacey dumped the contents of the bag from the drugstore into the third case. If Mr. Gold wanted to use this shit on his Belle, he was welcome to it, he had keys just like she did. She zipped the cases closed and fastened the padlocks. It wasn’t until she began hoisting them off the bed and onto the floor that an idea finally snapped into place: 

Fuck him.

She squeezed her palm around the leather handle of the first case and considered the thought for a moment. 

Fuck him.

Screw him, Janine had said, the first time she’d told her about Belle. That man is cheating on you and you don’t even get the satisfaction of walking away? 

When she’d had that conversation with her cousin, Lacey hadn’t been ready to leave Mr. Gold. Even now she wasn’t ready to walk out. How could she? She didn’t have a job or enough money to live off of. Things may be easier with her father, but she had no intention of moving back into her childhood bedroom or working at the flower shop without pay. 

The most independence she had been able to exert was moving her things across the hall to the guest room. It had felt like an exile, a self-imposed banishment. But maybe she could make that room feel a bit more like home.  

She took a breath. It felt like the first full breath she’d taken since October. Carefully, one by one, she wheeled the leather cases full of sex toys out of Mr. Gold’s room. They didn’t fit as well under the bed in the guest room--she had to push them snugly under the metal frame. It would be hard to get to them in a hurry. But they were there. They were hers.

Mr. Gold had nurtured her appetites, but he hadn’t created them. He didn’t own them. Lacey had always been a girl with a healthy imagination. The fact that she used to read every book she could get her hands on--including romances novels that were not age-appropriate--only added more fuel to her burning inner fire. 

He had expanded her horizons, he had given a form to her yearnings; but she had been looking for an adventure for as long as she could remember. Sex with him had been everything she’d ever imagined. Everything they’d ever done together was something she’d thought about doing when she was just a curious young woman, alone at night in a twin bed above the flower shop.

She’d wanted sex before Mr. Gold. She could want sex after him. 

In the early morning, with the lights off, the bedroom was a murky gray. Lacey pulled down the blinds and drew the curtains to make it even darker. Her heart was already racing, just from thinking about what she was going to do. Down in the kitchen, her pulse had pounded with the fire of anger, but now she was filling up with a sweeter, darker heat. 

She stepped out of her heels and began to unbutton her blouse. She unzipped the skirt that was the color of dust, of disappointment, and rolled down her opaque brown tights. She didn’t look in the mirror until she was naked. 

Stripped bare, except for her wedding ring. She couldn't take that off yet.

It was impossible to judge her body when it was like this. Without clothes, without a costume, she felt like she had no identity at all. She didn’t even have the marks and bruises that Mr. Gold used to brand her with. She looked like a naked Barbie doll in the bottom of a toy chest.

 Lacey had grown up knowing she was pretty, and not caring much. She had never watched her weight, like Mara, or worried about getting zits like Janine. She was lucky to fit the mold set by other girls at Storybrooke High. She’d looked enough like the models in magazines that it didn’t matter that she’d never be able to dress like them. 

After she married Mr. Gold, his opinion had become the only one that would ever matter. Her body became a mannequin that he could dress and pose as he saw fit. Sometimes he told her she was beautiful, though it was just as likely to be an insult. A pretty face with nothing behind it, just how I like my women.

Was that how he liked his men? Was that what Belle was like?

Scowling, Lacey put her hand to her breast and squeezed until it hurt. When she took her hand away, she saw the pink marks on her pale skin. 

That felt better. She breathed.

Still looking at her face in the mirror, Lacey cupped her cheek with her palm. Slowly, she dragged her hand down over her jaw. Two of her fingers caught against her lower lip, pulling down at the red inner flesh. She breathed.

Her hand rested over her throat. Ever so slightly, she pushed in, until she could feel the pressure, until she could feel her heartbeat against her fingertips. It was almost as good as a collar. Almost as good as Mr. Gold’s firm grip around her neck.

Back to her breasts, but gently this time. She was allowed to enjoy her body. She was allowed to awaken her senses. She stretched her arms up over her head, then brought them back down to her torso. Whenever Mr. Gold decided she had earned some pleasure, he would permit her to touch herself like this. Slow. Deliberate. Savoring herself. He liked it, sometimes. He liked to watch her. He liked it when she prepared herself for him.

Of course, Mr. Gold never allowed her to make herself come.  

She gave herself a final look in the mirror. There was a soft blush in her cheeks, and her pupils were wide. She licked her lips and got into bed.

The sheets were cool against her flushed skin. At first, she stretched out like a starfish, arms and legs spread wide. Then, she slowly brought her hands back to her body. 

With one hand on her diaphragm, she felt herself breathe. In, and then out. A peaceful, natural rhythm. Lacey had read a story about tantric sex once, about how it started with breathing together with your partner, that breath represented the sacred give-and-take between two people. Mr. Gold had no patience for that kind of thing. His version of give-and-take always ended in him taking more than he would ever give. 

He’s not here now. A woman's voice murmured in the depths of Lacey’s head. This is about you, sweetheart. What do you want? 

 “I want…” she whispered. Her teeth chattered as her hand crept lower down her belly. “I want…”

She let herself relax. She closed her eyes, let her weight sink into the mattress. She let her mind drift off wherever it wanted to. 

Using her other hand, she rolled her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. This hurt too, but it was a gentler pain than when she’d left the marks. It was a soft burn, that resonated with the growing warmth between her legs. 

“You like pain, dearie.” This voice was different than the first one. It was a man’s voice, high and mocking. She liked it. “Pain makes you wet!”

The man’s voice was right. When she slid her palm over the short hairs on her pubic mound--she hadn’t shaved in weeks--and dipped her fingers between her lips, she was coated in a sticky layer of warm fluid. 

“Good girl.” Now his voice is low and rumbling. “I knew you could make yourself wet for me.”

“Rumple,” Lacey whispered. She didn’t know why she said that. She only knew it felt right.

“Rumple!” Her voice is a high, keening whine. Her husband has kept her teasing herself for hours now. He has enchanted her to be unable to bring herself to completion no matter how hard she tries--and she has been trying very hard. “Rumple, please…”

“Please…” She covered her pubic area with the flat of her hand and slowly began to curl her fingers. 

“Please what, dearie?” Her husband chirps. They are in the dining room of their castle. He walks a spirited dance around her, while she has her legs and back bound to the stone wall. He is fully dressed and she is naked, just like old times. The only difference is that she isn’t wearing her cuffs. Instead, both of them have their golden rings. 

“Please let me, Rumple,” Lacey begged to no one.

He makes a noise, a play-mournful tut. “Is something troubling you, little thing? Do you have an itch that you cannot scratch? A desire you cannot assuage?”

 “Yes!” she gasps. Her hips rock against her wrist. Her hand is buried in her secret places, but her efforts only stoke the fire without easing it. 

Pretending to be thoughtful, he taps his finger against his lips. “I don’t think you’re wet enough,” he says. Apparently he is deaf to the rhythmic sloshing noise coming from between her legs. “No, not nearly as wet as I know you can be, my sweet slut. Not wet enough for the Dark One’s whore!”

Lacey’s back arched at those words. She felt her cunt quiver under her fingertips. Her breath was coming faster now. 

His breath is hot and cruel against her ear. He holds up a riding crop for her to see. “Are you ready for me to make you wetter, my thing?”

“Oh!” she moans. But she knows that isn’t an answer. He won’t do anything until she gives him an answer. “Yes,” she cries. “Yes, please!”

The crop comes down against the outside of her thigh. Behind her closed eyes she sees it as a lightning flash in brilliant red. The burning pain piles on to her lust, pushes her to yet another peak.

“Oh,” Lacey groaned. With her free hand she rubbed at her outer thigh. Could she feel the burning from her fantasy? Or was it just her fevered imagination?  

Again and again he strikes her. The pain courses through her body and sends her mind to that place of sublime safety and peace. He knows what he is doing to her, and they both love it. This is what it means to be owned: To know that he knows her so well, that he wants only what she wants, even the things it would shock another man to give her. She rests in that certainty. She lets herself go.

“Please,” Lacey said again. Her orgasm rose up in her belly. God, her first orgasm in six months. The first one she’d taken without permission in as long as she could remember. She stayed in the fantasy. “Please, Rumple, will you tell me I can come?”

The moment where her husband doesn’t speak is interminable, unendurable. If it weren’t for the enchantment, she would have already come a dozen times. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself. His eyes lock onto hers, black and gold and beautiful. His mouth opens, his pink tongue darts over his gray-green lips. When he speaks, his voice is low and natural, sincere. 

He sounds just like Mr. Gold.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he breathes.

It was like a firework went off in her body. A thousand fireworks. The whole Goddamned Fourth of July happening within a single instant. Lacey shook and moaned and clamped down on her own hand. Over and over, she clenched and released. She pushed herself to peak after peak, while she imagined the cackling demon, the monster who loved her and who had helped her find this pleasure. 

Limp and boneless, she slides down the wall onto the floor. He is there to catch her, to hold her while she trembles through the aftershocks. They sit together on the ground while he cradles her in his arms.

“You are so good, my darling.” He soothes her with words while she is too wrung-out to speak. “You are the most marvelous creature in the world.”

“Yours,” she whispered to a lover who wasn’t there. Laying on her side, she wrapped the blanket around herself so it felt like his arms. “I’m your creature, Rumple. I love you.”

“And I love you too.” He kisses her, caresses her. He runs his hands through her hair. “Gods, Belle, I love you so much.”

Lacey’s eyes popped open. She sat, bolt upright, in bed. 

Fuck. She was going to barf. She was going to implode. This was worse than finding the box of condoms. This was taking a bite out of an apple and finding half a worm.

Fuck!

Grabbing one of her pillows, Lacey flung her face into it and screamed. It was so fucking unfair! Bad enough that this bullshit was in her real life. How the hell had Belle invaded her fantasies too? 

“Jesus!” She threw the pillow down and smacked her head into her hands. Her fingers reeked of pussy. She had never hated a smell so much. How fucking unfair, how fucking absurd was it that she couldn’t even masturbate without feeling like a failure?

Her husband would never love her. Even when she dreamed about him, he was crooning over someone else. She had to get him out of her head. He had replaced her a long time ago. She would have to give him up too. 

She would have to give herself to someone else. 

Moving automatically, she got out of bed and went to the bathroom down the hall. She took a shower--long and hot--and covered herself in layer after layer of soaps and lotions and perfumes. Anything to get rid of the stink of desperation that seeped up from between her legs and clung to her fingers. 

Should she shave her cunt as well as her legs and armpits? Yes. Yes, she wanted to be ready for whatever would happen next.

  Back in her bedroom--not the guest bedroom, her bedroom, Goddammit!--she pulled out a long-neglected drawer of lingerie sets. Lately, she’d just been grabbing the first pair of panties she could get her hands on, and whatever bra was most comfortable. Whenever Lacey stopped by Sugar’n’Spice, Mara informed her of the joys of sports bras and underwear made of cotton. But she hadn’t been willing to take that step yet. It felt like giving up. 

Today she wore a bustier that Mr. Gold had never liked. It was dark, royal purple, trimmed in black lace. Silver hooks fastened it up the front. Lacey had bigger boobs than her tiny frame would indicate, but she was still grateful for the pale mounds of cleavage that this bustier produced once she had it on. She had to dress to impress. 

A tiny thong in black lace and purple silk matched the bustier. The space between the end of the bustier and the start of the thong revealed a thin strip of pink flesh. When Lacey pulled the elastic waistband it snapped against her skin and stung. Oh, that felt better. 

The more clothes she put on, the more relaxed she felt. This was right. This was normal. Wide-holed fishnet stockings, one of the shortest skirts she had--the black one with an electric blue tulle underskirt. A black blouse that was low cut enough and transparent enough to show off her bustier. Her hair went up in a wild, messy bun. She wore silver jewelry and slut red makeup. The final touch was to slip into her tallest pair of shiny black heels.

It was a lot of dressing up just to go downstairs, but it was the most settled she’d felt in a long time. No longer a naked Barbie, she knew who she was. Even without Mr. Gold, she could still be a walking sex dream. Strutting through the halls of his house, she finally felt worthwhile.

She went to his study, to his desk. She sat in his big leather chair and took out a bottle of his liquor. Johnnie Walker Blue Label. Two hundred dollars a bottle. Lacey’s mind flashed to the first time he had brought her into his study. He had taught her how to pour whiskey and serve it to him in a crystal tumbler. Looking at the liquid in the blue glass bottle, the shifting browns and golds looked like his eyes.

His eyes could be so beautiful…

Shaking her head, Lacey grabbed a tumbler and dumped the whiskey in. She swallowed it down without looking at it and grimaced. Not that the booze was bad--it wasn’t--or that she was inexperienced with liquor--she wasn’t. But this was just a day for grimacing. Any day when you were downing whiskey before noon wasn’t a good day.

But it was going to get better. 

All the voices in her head had gone silent since she’d ended the fantasy. Having a drink made things even quieter. For once, it was peaceful inside her mind. For once, she knew what she was doing.

Mr. Gold had a Rolodex on his desk, with the phone numbers for everyone in Storybrooke who owed him a favor. In other words, everyone in Storybrooke. She flipped through the cards until she found the name she was looking for. The person who might be able to help her. Her own personal savior. 

The phone number was a direct line. Mr. Gold wouldn’t have bothered writing down anything less. Heart racing, Lacey picked up the big black phone and began to dial. 

It picked up on the first ring. 

“Gold?” A woman said on the other end.

“No.” Lacey’s voice sounded high-pitched and nervous. Weak. She swallowed. “No, Madame Mayor, it’s me. Mrs. Gold.”  

There was a faint exhalation of breath, like someone who had just received an unexpected but lovely surprise. When Mayor Mills spoke, her voice was warm. “Why, Mrs. Gold! How nice to hear from you.”

Lacey bit her lip. This was the right thing to do, she shouldn’t feel nervous. “I, uh, I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. About your offer to talk, to help me.”

“Yes?” It was almost a purr, velvety and rich. “Are you ready to take my help then, dear?”

She twirled the phone cord around her finger. The bustier was making it hard to breathe. “I think so.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for a long time, Mrs. Gold. Why don’t you stop by my office later this evening, so we can have a chat?”     

[mythicalsecretsanta]

Afternoon Alone (T)

This gift is for: Wren (AKA @cerealbaths)  I really hope you like your gift. I’ve never written drama in such a short story so I hope it is well received. Happy Holidays!! From your Secret Santa, Silver (AKA @silverloveless)

Link to AO3, or read below:

Link took a deep breath, he turned on the bathroom sink to splash water on his face. As the towel he used to dry off was pulled down over his face, he caught his own eyes in the mirror. The lighting in Rhett’s spare bathroom wasn’t something he was entirely use to. His eyes looked the same as they always had thought. The same eyes that Rhett trusted, and he knew he had done enough to earn Rhett’s trust to know this afternoon would not be a mistake.

“You can do this,” Link said to himself, “You’ve done this in the past. You’ve done this with Rhett plenty of time.” He washed his hands, and pushed up his sleeves around his elbow, wondering for a second if he should take off his shirt instead of risking it getting dirty.

“It’s been a few years, but muscle memory right,” he gave another deep sigh before he left the bathroom, and made his way to Rhett’s kitchen. Link didn’t know why there was a spike of fear and uneasiness that suddenly entered his stomach. They weren’t doing anything wrong. Hell even their wives knew what they were doing. Jessie even gave her blessing while Christy just laughed and mentioned something close to it being about time. They even took the kids out for the day so they could go on a date before everything happened.

Their date had been wonderful, finally going for Mexican food after their last naked food episode. But the whole time as the date was getting closer and closer to ending at Rhett’s house the pit in Link’s stomach grew and grew.

“Link are you ready,” Rhett asked finally seeing Link stand there in the middle of the doorway.

“Rhett are you sure about this. I mean are you sure,” Link’s voice was strained. He didn’t know why but this moment felt so heavy. He didn’t want to screw this up. He didn’t want to let Rhett down, but he was stuck.

“Come on we’ve talked about this. It’s time to get this going with already,” Rhett just smiled at the obvious unease that Link was giving off.

“I just mean…well are you sure you want to do it in the kitchen,” Link asked trying to find some kind of out still.

“Yeah I mean we could do it outside, but I’d rather stay inside. Plus this seems like the easiest place to clean it up from,” Rhett just laughed, turning away showing Link his back.

Link took another deep breath, everything was going to be resolved in the next few moments no matter how it turned out. Link ran his hands through Rhett’s hair as the latter murmured, “Don’t tug it man.”

Before Link could process what he did, a single sound cut through the kitchen, Snip.

A single strand of golden brown hair fell to floor. Link broke out into laughter suddenly.

“Come on man what did you do,” Rhett turned quickly already running his hands though his hair worried at what had caused Link to laugh, his voice had gone up an octave.

Link pushed Rhett to face back around, the make shift cape out of a trash bag causing plastic crinkling to offset the annoyed look Rhett had given Link. 

“Don’t worry man. I just needed to get over doing the first cut. Now there is no going back,” Link said as he resumed cutting Rhett’s hair. Cutting off most of the length first, large curls began to litter the kitchen floor more and more. He left some of the top length long knowing that Rhett was going to most likely go back to his short up do.

“Do your ears feel cold yet,” Link asked as he moved away to grab the clippers setting a mid-length guard on the tool.

“Well at least now we’re back in territory you’re kind of familiar with now,” Rhett said as he turned on his self-facing camera to see the results of what Link had done so far. He marveled at how strange it looked after growing out his hair for so long, but by this point it was time for the long hair to be cut. He was glad his and link’s wife had taken the kids out of the house. No doubt Shepard would have been hanging around trying to gloat Link into cutting his hair shorter than he would had wanted.

Rhett felt the clippers start at the base of his skull moving upward pulling way towards the top. The feel of the vibration against his head always relaxed him and made him feel good. He could feel the goosebumps break out against his arms. Once the sides were cleaned up he felt Link go back to the scissors to clean up the top.

“Smile,” Rhett said as he help up the camera getting both him and Link in the camera screen, Link’s hands stilled mid cut.

“You going to send that to the girls,” Link murmured before he continued cutting at the top.

“Yeah I think they’d get a kick out of it,” Rhett just smiled. The kitchen had stayed quiet, Rhett knowing that the best and fastest way to get his hair cut was to keep quiet so Link didn’t stop cutting when he spoke to Rhett. Years of getting Link to cut his hair had reinforced the rule of only giving link one thing to do at a time especially with anything sharp in his hand.

Soon enough he had to open his legs letting link get further into his space than any normal hair cut would have allowed for. Following suit Rhett moved his hands to rest on Link’s hips, his thumbs digging into Link’s skin. A smirk showed up on his own face as he saw a slight blush showed up on Link’s face.

“There I think it’s done. I won’t know if anything was messed up or needs to be tidied up, till you wash it out and get it styled,” Link mentioned. He tried to move back from Rhett’s space, but was held in place by Rhett’s large hands.

“Thanks for the fade babe, want to get laid,” Rhett’s eyebrow wiggled as he asked Link if he wanted to continue the last of their day together in bed. Link just rolled his eyes at the pun.

“Rhett I am covered in your hair as is your whole kitchen floor is, and you want to have sex now,” Link responded not entirely not unconvinced.

“I’ll tell you what,” Rhett moved his hands under Link’s shirt just feeling the toned warm skin there under his hand.

“You go get in the shower. I’ll clean up in here read quick before I join you, and rock your world as a thank you? How does that sound,” Rhett pulled Link in closer standing up as he leaned down to kiss Link harshly.

“I think you got yourself a deal Rhett. Just don’t take too long in here,” Link responded. He turned to walk towards Rhett’s spare bedroom knowing better than to incur Jessie’s’ wrath at leaving a messed up bed set. As Rhett watched him go his eyes were glued to Link’s back side, and as Link disappeared around the doorway Rhett hurried to clean up.

“What a way to end a haircut,” He whispered to himself as he sweeping up his hair in a hurry before he joined his best friend and love in the shower.

[sleep-i-ness]

Love At First Coffee (Vanya Hargreeves x reader)

Summary: Y/N is a struggling flautist, trying to make ends meet, but when a violinist catches her eyes, life doesn’t seem quite so difficult.

Request: No

TUA Taglist: @neymarlionelmessi7​

Beep beep beep. Y/N groaned, stretching out languidly as she patted her bedside table. Her fingers found nothing but the worn wooden surface. Blearily rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up onto one elbow. The alarm was incessant. Where on earth was that phone?

The bitter smell of coffee filled the kitchen as she poured the boiling water into her chipped mug.  A lethargic ache had settled into her bones; the haphazard pile of unopened letters mounting her dread the more she looked at the mess. A quick glance at the plastic clock ticking merrily away warned her she was on the verge of being late if she did not leave now.

Y/N slung the straps of her flute case and tattered leather satchel over her shoulder, her crumpled sheet music clutched in one hand. The lock of her apartment was always such a fiddle and she stuffed the sheet music in her satchel, wincing as it creased even further. She yanked the door shut, leaning backwards to align the lock as she twisted the key.

With a huff, she blew the strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes during her tussle with the door. Her path was a familiar one; down the hallway over the scuffed tiles, where she’d have to wait for the creaky elevator to haul itself up to her, and then out onto the street. Past the rowdy bar that never seemed to shut and the hot dog street vendor to the bus stop, littered with chewing gum and graffiti. Then, depending on whether she had the time to waste on the agonizingly slow journey, it was either onto the grimy bus, nodding to the leering driver, or straight past, a brisk walk of about 20 minutes to the concert hall.

Today was not going in her favor. Y/N sighed as it pulled away from the stop. No need to make a choice now. The walk into the more central and less dodgy area of town was usually quite unpleasant; the streets were still reeling from the nighttime activities. She wrinkled her nose as the putrid scent of rotting garbage filled the air, a dumpster nearby overflowing with ripped trash bags. 

Keeping her head down, she hurried through the streets, neatly sidestepping the ‘businessmen’ on their flip phones and the gossiping ladies, one hand always clamping their handbags shut. A rush of balmy air burst through the vent as she passed over it, the warm stench of urine and cooking garbage wafting upwards. Left, then a right, then straight on past two crossroads and lines of honking traffic and foul-mouthed drivers, swearing at the day for daring to begin. Wait for the lights to turn red, cross over and continue down the road until you reach the performers door.

The Icarus Theatre. Y/N would have liked to be one of those performers who gushed on about how their performance center was ‘like a second home’, but that was cheesy and frankly unrealistic. Her dreams of being a world-famous flautist had been crushed the moment she’d received her first lot of bills and realized how naïve she truly was. The joy in performing in an orchestra was short-lived as every day felt like a struggle to scrape together enough money to keep herself out of debt and prove her parents wrong. That was enough to dampen anyone’s spirits.

Every hour she didn’t have a rehearsal, she was booked chockful with students of all ages and genders who turned up with a passion for the flute. Or their parents were forcing them to go. Either way she got paid and hoped that maybe she was imbuing someone with a new appreciation for classical music.

“Morning, Will.”

The principal piccoloist was already sat in his seat, absorbed in conversation with Lucy, one of the second violins. He glanced over and raised a slender hand in acknowledgment. Will was always punctual and smartly attired, wearing crisply ironed shirts and smart blazers, free of lint. Y/N was sharply aware of the contrast between them, her shirt creased and half-untucked and her hair escaping from its bun.

She flipped open the latches on her case; there was a trick to it, you needed to open both at once while opening the lid at the same time. Her prize and joy, her baby lay inside. The first time she had ever saved up enough money to buy herself something worthwhile, she had bought a professional flute. Before then, she’d been using her aunt’s old flute from the 60s, a battered old thing that was lucky to even still be able to play.

The murmur died down as Lorin Toscanini, the conductor, stepped onto the raised podium and raised his baton. Y/N slipped into her seat next to Will, who raised an eyebrow at the creased sheets she deposited onto her stand.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today we need to fix the timing on the opening sequence. Remember this is iconic and it needs to be perfect. Second violins, I hope you have improved since yesterday.” The nasally tone of Toscanini grated on Y/N’s nerves, especially so early in the morning when she would much rather be in bed.

Y/N raised her flute to her lower lip, watching the baton as it swayed in time with the music. Down, left, right, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The violins and cellos came in in unison on the downbeat, bows drawing across the string in harmony. The harmonies in perfect time caused shivers to run up and down her spine as the bows swayed mournfully across the vibrating strings in unison.

Okay. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8-

“Stop, stop,” Toscanini cried out, baton smacking against the stand. All instruments were immediately lowered, as a sign of deference. Something about stroking his highly inflated ego. “Someone in the clarinets is playing a B natural instead of a B flat. Now remember, we want to create a sense of tension, so the dynamics start off at piano and then we reach mezzo forte. But this isn’t the most dramatic section; we are building up to that. So, at bar 4 we need an audible diminuendo. Like tiptoeing... From the top!”

There was something so magical about playing in an orchestra when it all slotted into place. You stopped being an individual person and instead became immersed in a group movement of sound and emotion, compelling the listener to be draw in with you. The different melodic lines weave together into one, playing off each other to create a final piece.

It was an almost addictive sensation. The feeling of being swept away and losing sense of oneself in the bigger picture of a whole was something Y/N craved when she wasn’t playing. Music restored a part of herself that she sometimes didn’t realize she was missing. It lifted her away from the mortal world, to a place where the music and the notes were the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s eye fell upon one of the first violins, newly promoted, her brown hair pulled back tightly in a low ponytail. The woman’s brow was furrowed as her fingers danced over the neck of the guitar, swaying gently with the music. Momentarily transfixed, Y/N’s mind turned foggy as she lost count, all thoughts focused on the violinist.

The piece drew to its climax, as if a great beast had climbed to its hind legs and roared. A mounting rush of notes as each musician lost themselves in the crescendo, furiously playing. Cascading melodies toppled over each other, nimble fingers tumbling up scales and bow strokes timed impeccably.

E, G, A!

An audible sigh of satisfaction echoed round the room as the piece ended without any pauses for tinkering; the joy of a composition well played shared throughout all the players.

“Beautiful, just beautiful. I think we’ll call that a day, there. Our next rehearsal is at one on Wednesday, now do not be late.”

Now that the piece had ended, Y/N glanced over to the violinist she had spotted earlier. While Y/N quietly packed her instrument away, the woman prepared to slip out, unnoticed. Should she…?

“Hey,” Y/N flagged down the women, fingertips brushing the cuffs of her dark shirt. “I’m Y/N, I noticed you playing. It was beautiful! You recently got moved up from fourth chair to third, right?”

“Yeah,” the woman seemed flustered by the attention, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “I’m Vanya, it’s nice to meet you.”

Y/N pulled her slipping straps back onto her shoulder as she grinned at Vanya from beneath the curls threatening to fall in her face. “Pretty name. Say, are you busy now? I know an excellent little coffee shop across the road.”

Vanya flushed as she murmured some expression of gratitude. She hesitated, carefully switching her phone on and off again before sliding it back in her pocket when no notifications showed up. “I’m free for a couple of hours. I have to teach lessons from 3 though.”

The coffee shop was quaint and always quiet; since a Starbucks had opened only a few doors down, business had slowly dried up until only a few regulars and those who were opposed to coffee from chain shops came along. Vanya fidgeted with the strap of her violin case, her eyes darting around the shop’s wooden and gold furnishings.

“Hey Marjorie, I’ll have a cappuccino and a chocolate éclair. Vanya, what do you want?”

“Oh, you don’t need to order for me, I can pay for myself.” Vanya’s eyes widened as she protested profusely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning nonchalantly against the bar, “I asked you to come with me for coffee, there’s no way that I am going to be so rude as to make my guest pay for her order. So?”

“I’ll have a mocha, thanks.”

Y/N soon joined Vanya where she was sitting, tucked away in a booth in the corner.

“One mocha, milady.” God, she sounded like one of those ‘nice guys’ in the Instagram DMs.

“Thanks,” Vanya laughed, and Y/N decided she quite liked hearing that sound and that she was definitely going to try and hear it more often. Especially, she wanted to see the way Vanya’s eyes crinkled as she tried to stifle her giggles and how her hand flew up to try and cover her face.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Y/N propped up her head on one hand as she sipped at her cappuccino, blowing softly on the frothy layer.

“Umm, I don’t know what there is to say, I’m a pretty boring person.”

Y/N could not believe that. There was something so hypnotizingly attractive about Vanya; a quiet sort of pretty that crept up on you when you were least expecting it and stole your breath away. Someone like that could never be boring, every inch of her whispered of a tale to be told.

“Have you got any siblings? Pets?”

Vanya’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly before she smoothed her features out, as if to imply Y/N should know something. “Yeah, I have a sister and 3 brothers.”

“Wow, 3 brothers. That must have been a nightmare!”

“Yeah, I was kind of the black sheep of the family. But I haven’t spoken to them in years; we just ended up drifting,” Vanya’s tone appeared nonchalant, but a nervous hand gave her away as she massaged her neck. “It was my fault basically.”

“No that’s ridiculous. The only real excuse for cutting you off is if you killed someone or put someone in danger, and no offence, you don’t seem particularly capable of either of those things,”-Vanya pulled a face-“in a good way!”

“I don’t know, I feel like I deserved it.”

Y/N tore the éclair in half, messily coating her fingers in chocolate as she pressed her fingertips into the half-melted layer on top. “For you. Because fuck shitty families. Who needs them, am I right?”

Vanya giggled and raised her half in response, touching them together to make a toast. “Amen!”

There was a lull in conversation as attention was redirected to eating the intoxicatingly good pastries.

“What about you?” Vanya mumbled; mouth full. There was a tiny dot of cream on the left corner of her mouth and Y/N stared, transfixed as her tongue darted out to dab it away.

“Oh, me. Well, the whole struggling artist career path was not one my parents had hoped I would go down. In comparison to my banker brother, I’m a bit of a disappointment and they make sure to let me know.”

Christmas this year had been a nightmare. It was full of meaningful looks from her parents as her brother prattled on about his new promotion, or the last exotic trip he went on, or the wonderful restaurants near his place of work on Wall Street. She didn’t know what they expected her to do; just suddenly become a high-profile surgeon?

Vanya placed her hand over Y/N’s, looking earnestly into her eyes. “You’re not a disappointment. Fuck what they think.”

Y/N cracked a half-hearted smile at the sentiment of Vanya’s sentence, although there was a certain strangeness to hearing her say ‘fuck’. A hot sensation prickled the back of her neck as Vanya kept her hand where it was, her gaze never wavering as she seemingly searched for something in Y/N’s eyes.

“Well, now we’ve got the family trauma out the way, what do you like to do for fun?” Y/N said, every muscle relaxing as Vanya moved her hand to pick up her mug. She hadn’t realized how tense she was, nervousness laced into every tendon.

“Well, my life seems to be taken up with violin, but I enjoy writing. And I can cook.” Vanya paused to think about what she was saying. “Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” Y/N laughed, trapping her lower lip between her teeth as she awaited Vanya’s response.

“I’m not about to be out here claiming that I’m world-class standard. However, I do make a mean cottage pie which you will have to try someday.”

Someday. That was promising. Y/N smiled sweetly, nodding fervently. “I’d like that very much.”

Y/N took a sip of her cappuccino, recoiling as the tip of her tongue was scalding by the still piping hot coffee. Vanya took one look at her and grinned.

“You’ve got something there,” she said, tapping the tip of her nose.

“Where?” Y/N rubbed her nose.

“No, wait, up a bit- to the right, no, left, umm-”

“Would you mind just getting it for me?” Y/N interrupted her, and Vanya froze.

“Yeah, uh,” she leant across the table, thumb extended as she brushed the callused pad gently across Y/N’s skin. “There. All gone.”

“Thanks.”

They shared a soft smile.

The walk back to Y/N’s apartment was swelteringly sticky, especially in the noon sun. However, today felt different. Buoyed along on a cloud of joy, she practically skipped over the cracks in the sidewalk and past the piled trash bags. Her mind swooped over the fields of possibilities, whirling thoughts on a tangent of their own. The storm in her mind had cleared to allow a small shaft of sunlight through to shine on the choppy waves below, great dark clouds parting with hope.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Hi Y/N, it’s Vanya.

Y/N could barely contain the gleeful grin as she read the message, pressing her phone to her chest.

Hey Vanya, it was really nice to have coffee with you today. We should do something like that again.

Barely a couple minutes had passed when her phone emitted the telltale ding, alerting her to a new incoming message.

Absolutely. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you promised to try my cottage pie.

Y/N tapped out a quick response, finger hovering over the send button as she reread it.

It’s a date.

[prince-cally]

A little thing I wrote for Team Same Voice based off a Headcanon I have with @helixed-inferno about how Jack was the one who gave the Vagabond his jacket. Please enjoy!

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

Jack  knew that Geoff was desperate for a crew. It had been the two of them for some time. Old friends committing basic crimes. She knew Geoff craved more, so did she. However , she wasn’t sure about the man when Geoff dragged off the streets. She had heard of some rouge kid with a bad attitude on the streets causing chaos. She knew Geoff wanted to meet him and offer him a job. He already had a kill count, and the first time Jack saw him. She could see why. He was large but well covered. He was silent and barely spoke. He could easily sneak up on someone in an alleyway. She was surprised when Geoff announced he had taken the job. Now there were three of them. Jack decided she needed to do her best to welcome him into their small crew.

 Geoff had been working with him , helping him build his skills and trying to discipline the other. He had a bit of a temper in  him when he wanted. A few holes in the wall and bloody knuckles after fights had shown that. Jack did her best to get him to open up. She would chat with him - or to him whenever he was around.  A month went by before she heard him speak. He had a deep voice and soft southern accent. She found out his alias was The Vagabond , he was a year older than her and he was from Georgia. 

It wasn’t long before Geoff brought home two more kids , Michael and Gavin. The Vagabond fell back into his quiet self. Only responding in soft grunts and growls when the Jersey boy or Brit tried to speak to him. Jack felt like she was back a square on with him. She wasn't about to give up though. Training continued for them , and Jack found herself being paired with The Vagabond while Geoff handled the pair of best friends. Jack would talk about her experiences during cool down , The Vagabond sat and listened. Offering nods , grunts, and the occasional snort or chuckle. 

Finally, Geoff felt comfortable enough letting The Vagabond out on his first job. Geoff would be sending him out on a simple stake out.He would be sending Jack with him. The Vagabond grumbled in response and wasn’t seen again until it was time to leave. The Vagabond had his face painted the same the day Jack had met him. However, instead of being smudged from sweat and rain , it was clean and sharp. It scared the shit outta Gavin when he saw it. 

Jack was waiting by the car for Ryan. She leaned up against reading over the notes Geoff had given them. She looked up and offered the other a smile as he made his way through the garage. 

  “ Ready to go?” She asked , reaching to open the drivers door , his hand caught her wrist. 

   “ I’ll drive. “ He simply said, sliding around her. 

Shrugging she climbed into the passenger side. It was the first time he'd spoken to her in weeks.

 “ Seatbelt. “ The Vagabond growled , clicking his own into place. She obeyed silently. There was no reason to fight him on it. 

The first few minutes of the drive was in  awkward silence. The Vagabond reached forward and turned on the radio , turning to dial. He found a classic rock station and settled back into his seat. Jack almost swore she saw him smile. The drive was about an hour, they rode in comfortable silence the rest of  the way. The Vagabond pulled into the motels parking lot with a huff. 

“ Wanna grab the gear ? I’ll go check in.” Jack offered. He responded with a nod and another huff. 

She wandered to the front desk, using cash and the fake ID Geoff gave her, she grabbed the key and returned to the car. 

“ Looks like we’re in room 106. Right across from the appartement we’re supposed to be watching.” 

The Vagabond said nothing. This was going to be a fun few days , Jack thought with a frustrated sigh. Once in the room and set up , Jack dropped onto the bed. “ At least this is a nice room for a motel.” She said, mostly to herself. 

“ Geoff really went out of his way for us, huh?” The Vagabond chuckled a bit. 

The voice startled Jack, but she laughed a bit herself. “ I suppose so.” The rest of the night passed with nothing but the T.V and  passing traffic for noise. The Vagabond laid on his bed , back propped against the headboard. He was cleaning his knives, every once in a while there was a hum of approval or a sigh of annoyance from him. Jack had been reading details , for about the third time that evening. Wanting to be sure she had every detail, she sat the papers down.  “ I’m hungry. I think I’m gonna grab some food. Want anything?” 

“ Honestly, I could go for a burger.” 

Oh, so the fearsome Vagabond did eat fast food. She couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“ Alright , I’ll be back.” She ran down the street to a burger joint. She returned with food not much later.

“ One burger meal , and a surprise chocolate milkshake.” She hummed dropping his bag by his side. She glanced down , taking a look at his knives. “ Got enough of those? “

“ No.” He said, pulling out a fry. “ You never have enough weapons.” This time he was smiling. 

They ate their meals , flipping between the News and Jeopardy reruns. Jack caught herself glancing over at the other person. She had never spent this much time with him outside of training.Usually , The Vagabond stuck to his room, during dinner he’d grab his food and return with little notice to anyone. He’d give Jack a quick nod in thanks and be gone. Now she felt she could get a decent look at him. She could tell his black hair was dyed, his blonde roots starting to show from neglect. His jeans were worn and faded in places. He wore a plain black hoodie , she never saw him without it on. Now he had the sleeves pushed up around his elbows. She could see the tone muscles and  scars from knife fights that littered his arms. Looking closer Jack could see where the jacket had been sewon several times. The hoodie itself seemed thin too. Granted Los Santos was warm most of the time - It could still get cold during the winter. She suddenly felt for him. Wondering just what kind of live he lived before having a place at the Penthouse. 

“ Can I help you?” She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. “ You’ve been staring at me.” When she looked at him, she wasn’t able to read his expression. 

“ No. Just never seen you with your sleeves rolled up.” She said. 

“ Ah, well there's a reason for that. “ He held up an arm, showing off the scars again.

“ I assume those are from fights ?” She asked.

“ Something like that.” There was a bit of smugness in his voice. She rolled her eyes as he pushed down his sleeves. She wasn’t going to pry into that.

“ Who's taking the first watch?” Jack asked. Moving off the bed and to the window. 

" I will. I don't sleep anyways. " He said plainly. Jack raised a brow, not sure if that was supposed to be a joke. She assumed it was not.

" Suit yourself." She finished her milkshake and tossed it into the trash bin. 

She looked at the time. It wasn't too late , about 12:30. However, if they were going to do this job right she'd need to be rested and ready. While she hot herself ready for bed , The Vagabond made himself comfortable by the window. He closed the blinds leaving just enough open that he could see the apartment across the way. The lights were still on. Hopefully he'd catch something tonight. Jack killed the lights and slid into her bed. She pulled out her phone, sending Geoff a quick text letting him know they were settled. 

" You won't sleep if you're on your phone." 

" Okay, Geoff." 

That got a snort out of The Vagabond. Jack couldn't help but smile to herself. She was surprised with how much more talkative he was when they were alone. Something in her chest lit up. After months was he finally opening up? She hoped so.

Jack wasn't sure when she fell asleep or how long she had been out-  but she woke up to The Vagabond standing over her. 

" Our guy is on the move. " Was all he said in a hushed voice. 

She sat up reaching for the light when he stopped her. 

" No. It could give us away. Apparently we weren't the only ones watching out for someone." He sat his gun in her lap. A dagger was in his hand and a tri-dagger on his hip. The Vagabond moved back to the window, peaking out of it. "No time for you to get ready. Now's our chance. "

 He quickly moved through the door. Jack sighed , a tank top and shorts wasn't ideal to fight in, but at least he let her have his gun. She followed him out the door and took cover between cars.  Their target was going in and out of the building in a frantic manner. He was throwing bags into the trunk of his car , he was on the phone with someone.

" Ramsey isn't going to get his fucking money. This much dough ? I'm not letting this go. I think he has someone watching me though. I gotta get out of here." The other man shoved the phone into his pocket. Using the man's panicked nature to go unseen The Vagabond moved across the street. A purr left the Male as he came up behind the other. He was so much bigger than the other man. Jack had never noticed how large The Vagabond was.

" I don't think my boss will be too happy to hear that you're taking his money." He purred out in a low voice." Also, if you think you're being watched. Maybe you shouldn't announce what you're doing while standing outside, dumbass."  

The man spun pulling out his own blade. " Who the fuck are you? " He shouted , swinging his knife wielding arm at him. " Ramsey sent you? Get lost asshole ! " 

Jack took this chance to move across the street , gun drawn and ready to fire. The Vagabond had the other man occupied. He effortlessly dodged the attacks of the other man. A hysterical laugh left his throat. 

" Oh, this will be easy ! But fun." The Vagabond laughed.

Jack took this chance to search the car.Looking for any sort of information on the guy, who he was talking to or where he could be going. She didn't expect this to happen the first night of the stake out , but hey , what could she do. She listened to the two men fight it out behind her. In case The Vagabond needed her for back up. He didn't seem like the type who would ask for it. And she wasn't sure he'd even need it . She let out a soft gasp as she was grabbed and pulled from the car. Apparently their man wasn't alone. Jack was able to get away from his grip, easily throwing him to the side. She felt for the gun which had been left in the front seat. She swore under her breath. It was a rookie mistake. Nonetheless, she stood in a fighting stance, ready to go. The guy picked himself up and pulled a switch blade from his pocket. At least it wasn't a gun , she thought. Jack and the man struggled for a moment, she had gained a few shallow cuts and a bloody nose. They pulled apart briefly and he lunged at her before she could react. In a split second Vagabond was in between them. The man's knife caught his hoodie and tore it open, it then caught his arm , leaving a deep stab wound. That sent a fire Through the Vagabond and his dagger found the other man's throat. He dropped the lifeless body like it was nothing. 

" Grab the cash. And let's go." Jack was picking herself up , glancing between the body and the Vagabond. Who had a crazy , pleased look in his eye. " We need to go before the cops show up. Someone was bound to see or hear that. Where's the other one?" 

" Dead." He said ,pleased and smiling. He already had his arms filled with bags.

She didn't say anything else, grabbing what was left. Jack packed the car as the Vagabond sweeped the hotel room for items that could give them away. Once it was clear they retreated into their car and left. 

Jack was driving this time. Taking back roads and detours to avoid any main roads just in case. After about thirty minutes of driving she pulled over. 

" What?" The Vagabond asked. He was still hyped up from the altercation.

" I need to fix up your arm. That looks nasty." 

" It's fine. Don't worry about it." 

" No." She said , reaching for the first aid kit. She got out and went to his side. 

" I don't need your fucking help." He snapped suddenly. " Touch me and I swear to God-" 

" You'll do what?" She snapped back. " You'll do what Vagabond? Kill me ?" 

He fell silent, eyes wide for a brief moment. Then he looked forward and stripped off the torn and blood soaked jacket. Jack tossed it in back and went to work on his arm. 

" Have you ever stitched yourself up before ?" She asked, trying to break the tense mood. " Vagabond-"

" Ryan." 

" What?" 

" My name is Ryan." 

" Why are you telling me?" She asked, genuinely curious. 

" You aren't afraid of me. I think that deserves you knowing my first name."

She snorted. " Why would I be afraid of you?" 

" I killed two men less than an hour ago. Threatened you - and yet you stood your ground." 

" Well, yeah. I don't fuck with punks." 

" Yet you put up with Michael?" 

They both laughed then. Once she was done, they rode back in comfortable silence.

Once back at the Penthouse, they unloaded the car , getting ready to take the bags to Geoff. Michael greeted them right of the elevator. 

" You assholes are on the news. Geoff isn't happy." He glanced down. " Maybe he will be once he sees all that cash of his that had gone missing though." Michael smirked. 

When they entered the living room,  a picture of their fake IDs was displayed on the screen. 

" Shit. We missed those." Jack sighed. " At least they were fakes." 

The screen displayed a news woman now. Way to dolled up for it to be covering a double murder. 

" The authorities are calling these two criminals "The Fakes" since all that can be found is their fake IDs. Whoever these criminals are - They are intelligent and dangerous -" Geoff switched off the TV.

" The Fakes. I like it." He said , turning to them. " Oh, you both look like shit. Put my money in the office and get cleaned up." They both simply smiled and did as they were told. 

Geoff ended up cutting them in a good chunk of money. He said it was for " all the troubles" they had to deal with. They weren't complaining though. It had been a few weeks and Jack decided that she had been laying low long enough. She went out to do some basic shopping and to just have some fun. When she returned she found Ryan at the kitchen table. She made her way to him and dropped a bag in his lap.

" What's this?" He asked.

" A gift? You've never gotten one before?" 

" Haha. Fuck you." He said playfully. He opened the bag and pulled out a leather jacket. It was black and blue with white strips on the arms. 

" What's this for ?" 

" I feel bad that your hoodie got destroyed. " She admitted and he rolled his eyes. " Plus you need something better to keep you warm when it gets cold.. and you seem like a leather guy ." She winked at him. 

That got her a true laugh. 

" I hope you like it and I hope it fits. I guessed your size."

" I like it a lot. Thank you, Jack."

" No problem, Ryan." 

[shepherd-of-the-stars]

Artificial

My submission for @hetabang​ ! Hope you like it! 

Word count: 3,590

Summary: Novovol, Russia, the 36th century. The people of this new age have formed two distinct societies: those of the upper world, high in the sky in pearly cities, and those of the lower world, living on junkyard scraps and breathing polluted air. These societies, both run on fear and power, were meant to forever stay separate. But one night, an android fell from the sky and broke through the barrier that divided them. An android who has no memory, not even his own name, programmed to be a companion, but also a guard. His weapons system had been upgraded illegally, and without proper maintenance, could prove to be dangerous and unstable. Ivan, one of the best mechanics of the lower world, fixes him up and gives him a name; Alfred. Together, they go on an adventure, discovering things about their world, themselves, and their feelings.

Chapter summary: Ivan ventures into the junkyard to dig through the heaps for useful treasures, his almost nightly activity. One wild decision changes the course of his life. 

Warnings: brief mentions of death and bodies, hints at abuse(through scars)

Rating: T (to be changed)

Chapter 1: Hell’s Wasteland

The cold night air did wonders in smothering the noxious scents that blanketed the junkyard like a fog. While the sun’s heat cooked them and made them more powerful, nighttime forced them into hiding. The stench of death and rusted metal was enough to make a normal person retch, but Ivan frequented the location often enough that it was nothing but a minor nuisance. 

With his scarf pulled up to cover his nose and goggles to protect his eyes from the chemicals and dust, he weaved through the heaps of filth, looking for treasures hidden amongst the trash. His mechanical pack mule followed behind him dutifully with its heavy, steel feet making square indents in the hard dirt. The droid was bulky and large, similar to the size of its namesake, but its well oiled parts allowed it to move silently. The only noise that came from it was when the luggage it carried clashed into each other inside the bins on its back. 

This machine, that Ivan had built from scraps and named Buster, carried his maker's oddments so that Ivan could dig through the heaps freely. Every couple feet, the man stopped to poke through the collection of garbage and junk to pick out pieces that he could use for his work. There was a time when he'd jump at every eerie thing he found, but after years of coming here, those things only made his heart skip just a little. 

Spotting a human-like leg sticking out from a pile, Ivan scanned it with his device and waited. "Artificial, 20% damage," it said, allowing Ivan to release his breath and drag the limb out so he could toss it into his bins. He had learned the hard way that it was better to be safe than to drag out a corpse. 

It was one of the reasons the place was nicknamed "Hell's Wasteland." Broken androids tossed out here made it look like the place was littered with human bodies. The gangs saw that as an opportunity and began to dispose of their enemies here, hence the smell of decay. No one but vultures like Ivan went through here. No one would ever see. And even if someone did, the law would never listen to someone who only had 2 sets of clothes and ate crumbs for meals. 

What was once a scrap yard had now turned into a dumping ground. After the owners had disappeared, no one was left to take over. Local rumors said that the owners were still on the land, buried under rotten food and broken refrigerators. “If you listen closely, you can hear them crying,” they would say, “they’re waiting for someone to rescue them. But once you get close enough, they’ll snatch your body and use it as their own.”

But Ivan knew better than to listen to wild stories of ghosts and possession. He knew after many visits that it was the cries of cats. When they yowled in the night, it sounded like a child who had lost their guardian, or perhaps someone who was in pain. And since they ran away at the slightest sound, it was no surprise many people have never seen the source of the sound. 

Just then, that exact sound that people dreaded hearing pierced through the air and struck Ivan’s heart with chilling fear. He knew it was only a cat, but even the bravest of men would flinch at a shrill noise breaking silence. Head tilted towards the night sky, he listened, waiting for the sound to meet him again. 

When it came, he followed it with the stealth of an assassin. Even the slightest disturbance could send them running, and Ivan didn’t want to miss his chance of seeing a cute cat. 

With every step, he drew closer, which meant the cat had not discovered him yet. Maybe this time he would be able to catch it and bring it home. Then again, his budget could barely support his sisters and himself. To add another mouth to feed, that would leave them eating out of the dumpster. But one could dream. A small part of him hoped that the soft clanging of metal in Buster’s bins scared the cat away so he wouldn’t have false hope. 

But things never seemed to turn out his way. As he peeked out from behind an overturned car, he spotted the cat that had been yowling for attention and finally understood why it had not run. 

What he saw was an unfortunate black cat stuck in a discarded raccoon trap, its paw reaching out past the bars in an attempt to open the spring doors. Ivan approached it slowly, his large body hunched over in an attempt to make himself smaller for the cat. The mental image of himself looking like a crooked, old witch approaching their animal apprentice crossed his mind and made him smile. 

“Don’t scratch me, please,” he whispered after tugging down his scarf, “I’m just trying to help you.”

Back arched and hairs standing straight, the cat was not happy at all that such a big creature was so close while it was defenseless. It hissed and swatted at Ivan’s hands when he got too close, but eventually, the human proved to be trustworthy. 

He didn’t make any sudden movements, and for that, the small creature was thankful. Slowly, it relaxed, pressing itself against the corner of the cage instead of trying to shred Ivan’s helping hand. 

“You’re very beautiful. I will call you Novi. Do you like that?” He smiled down at the black cat that stared at him with wide, wary eyes. The cage jolted and clicked when it was finally opened and the cat took off with such speed, he could see bits of the ground scatter as her claws tore it up. 

Ivan let out a soft grunt of disappointment watching her disappear behind a pile of garbage bags. “What? No ‘thank you’? That’s a little bit rude.” He chuckled at his own silliness before walking back over to his droid. “Did you get that, Buster?” 

Those keywords made the droid open his sealed mouth with a click. Ivan reached between the spiked teeth to grab a cord to connect to his phone while Buster’s eyes flashed red to verify his identity. They turned blue when the iris scan passed the test, his tail wagging as his defense mode was disengaged. Only Ivan, his sisters, and people he approved had access to Buster’s security files. If anyone else had tried it, the jaws would clamp shut with enough force to take their hand clean off their body.  

With a few taps, he was able to see what his droid’s eyes had recorded. Crystal clear footage of Ivan interacting with the cat popped up on his screen. The quality was good enough that Ivan could pause and zoom in on it just to get a closer look. He took a screenshot and smiled.

“Send this image to Kat. Caption it, ‘rescued a cat from a raccoon cage. Named it Novi. Can I keep it?’ Message complete.” He continued to scrub through the video as he waited for the droid to do as he said. 

The droid went completely still for a few seconds then moved his head in a nodding motion once it was done. He spoke in a human-like voice with a slight mechanical buzz. “Message sent to Kat: Rescued a cat from a raccoon cage. Named it Novi. Can I keep it? Image attached.” 

“Good boy.” Ivan pat him on the head twice before disconnecting the cord and tapping his chin, making his steel jaws slam shut. Turning to the left, he began to return to his previous task but Buster stood firm. 

“Novi spotted.” 

Ivan stopped, turning back to the droid. “What?” 

“Novi spotted,” he repeated, looking straight ahead. 

He followed the eyes of his droid until he saw what his target was. There, standing on top of an old monitor, was Novi. Her tail swayed in the air playfully, as if waiting for Ivan to notice. “Are you back to thank me?” He asked the question as if he expected an answer.

Novi stared at him, completely still except her tail, then she blinked and hopped off the pile of scraps. Ivan had expected her to run a second time, but she turned back to look at him and waited. 

“Buster,” he said, his eyes not leaving the cat.

The droid chimed once. 

“Choice: Follow, or don’t follow.” 

The droid chimed twice. “Choice: Follow, or don’t follow. I choose follow.” 

Ivan hesitated. “Buster, what’s my luck today?” 

Two chimes again. “Your luck today is amazing! Who knows what will happen when you take a chance!” 

“Take a chance,” he repeated under his breath. Every fiber of his being was screaming to him that this was just like the start of a horror movie, but he took a deep breath and began walking towards the cat. “Maybe she will show me her kittens. Yes. This will be good. I have good luck today.” 

Even as he told himself this, his hands were cold and clammy from nervousness. A black cat on a full moon wanted to lead him somewhere. It didn’t seem like a good sign. Any rational person would ignore this stray animal. It could be a trap. Maybe demons. Or maybe Ivan was just being too superstitious. 

Several times, he had attempted to turn the other direction, thinking that following a cat was just too silly, but every time Ivan tried, Novi would walk back over to Ivan and stare. Waiting. Whatever it was Novi was trying to show him, it must be important. 

“Alright alright, I’m following,” he muttered after a fourth attempt to escape. 

They were nearing the center of the junkyard now. The piles here were stacked so high, even Ivan had to crane his neck to catch only a small glimpse of what was at the top. 

He tended to avoid this area. Located directly below the highway, it was a popular spot to toss things over the side. If one wasn’t careful, they could be crushed flat by someone tossing out their garbage. It was also very unstable. One misstep could cause the garbage to topple like an avalanche, and if one was alone, once they were buried, that would be the end. 

“I don’t think I can follow you further, Novi.” Ivan watched as the cat hopped gracefully on the pile, her light body barely making the objects move. But for Ivan, every step he took made garbage tumble down the sides. 

The foolish human had already come this far on his quest, and he didn't want to waste it by turning back. But one wrong step made his foot slip into the pile, a broken beer bottle cutting into his leg. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to make him hiss and stain his torn pants with blood. 

Maybe it was a sign that he should stop trying to climb this mountain of garbage. The wound on his leg was small, but if it wasn't treated, it could cause an infection. “I’m sorry but this is the end of our little adventure. My sister will be very angry if I die trying to follow a cat.” 

Of course, Novi gave no response. She only stared at him a while longer, looked at the highway above, then took off. At first, Ivan thought that perhaps she had run off because she knew Ivan would no longer follow, but the sound of a car door slamming shut told him otherwise. 

“Oh no.” He looked up at the highway, spotting two men approaching the side, working together to carry something heavy. Ivan shouted for them to stop as he scrambled to get to the bottom, but they couldn’t hear him. From the highway to the ground was a drop almost a hundred feet. His pleads would never reach them. And even if they did, they wouldn’t care. 

Ivan had only caught a glimpse of what looked like an old sofa being chucked over the edge  before the impact of it crashing down into the pile caused everything to topple over. Like a mudslide, everything on the top layer tumbled to the ground, Ivan included. 

He did what he could to protect himself as he fell; his limbs cut and bruised as he tried to shield his head. There was nothing he could hold on to. Nothing was stable. It only stopped when everything pooled on the ground, adding to the mountain’s size. 

Buster, who had stayed on the ground while Ivan chose to climb, ran over to the spot his maker was buried. He dug him out as fast as he could, then dragged Ivan to the side where he’d be able to avoid the damage of falling garbage. 

“Are you okay?” What Buster got wasn’t an answer to his question, but a smack on his metal head. “Ow.” 

“You liar. You said I have good luck!” He hissed as he stood up. His clothing was torn in several places and his body was covered in filth. 

Buster tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Luck readings are chosen randomly from choices you programmed into my system. If you are not satisfied with your reading, please ask ag-... Ow.” The droid was cut short when his maker smacked him again. 

“Maybe if I rebooted you, you won’t be so sassy.” 

“My personality is also programmed by you.” 

“Stop talking.” 

“Silent mode: On.” 

Ivan sighed when the droid went silent. He knew it was his own fault for following a cat into such dangerous territory. Now he had to go home and tell his sister that he needed to borrow money to buy a new set of clothes. At least his scarf was okay.

He wrapped the piece of cloth back to how it was when he started his hunt and tended to all the cuts with the first aid kit kept inside his droid. Then, pretending like nothing had happened, he went back to digging through the rubble. If he was going to ask Kat for money, the least he could do was sell a couple more of his projects to earn it back. And to do that, he needed the parts. 

The more he looked and the more he collected, he was beginning to believe that perhaps Buster’s reading was correct. While this area was dangerous and risky, it also held the freshest picks. He had collected so much scrap metal and spare parts that the bins grew full. 

Dozens of different projects zipped through his mind. He could make a small pet droid. Maybe a drone. Or maybe he could invent something brand new! He could be rich! 

A noise from the highway above only added to his excitement. He took a couple steps back from the pile, just to be safe, then watched to see what the people would toss over. “Come on. Give me something good.” 

All he could see were dark figures, but the mystery of it made his heart race. It all stopped when he saw the discarded object reveal itself in the moonlight as it fell. “No way…” 

Like before, the impact of the tossed object caused the pile to crumble. Anything on the surface was buried once again, but Ivan’s eyes were locked on the new addition. 

He waited until the trash had settled and the men above had left before dashing over to where the object was resting. It was buried under bags of garbage and electronic trash, but Ivan had found it. It was broken and damaged, but it was unmistakably an android. 

“What a beauty,” he said to himself as he admired the human-like machine. If it wasn’t for the broken skin revealing metal underneath, Ivan would have thought it was a human. 

The body was built to be male, a strong one too, and it had a head of long, blond hair with a firm but pretty face. The model wasn’t one Ivan has seen in the catalogs either, so it must be custom built. Which also meant it was an expensive model. The more expensive the model, the more he could sell it for. 

“Let’s see… Are you still active?” He waved a hand in front of the android’s lifeless face but gained no reaction. Snapping his fingers to try and wake it by sound did not work either. But when his hand made contact with its silicon skin, its eyes snapped open and locked on Ivan. 

Ivan jumped back quickly when blue eyes flashed red. “W-wait!” He snatched up whatever he could to protect himself. Unfortunately, his weapon of choice turned out to be a bent pole. “I’m friendly. I promise.” 

The android stared at him for a long time. Ivan could hear the whir of his engine as his system tried to determine whether or not Ivan was a threat. Several times, his eyes had gone dark only to flash back on again seconds later. 

“Battery failure,” he whispered as a mental note, “but reaction is good.” That brought a smile to his face. With a couple quick fixes, he could have this android good as new and sell him for thousands. So no matter how long it would take, he waited. 

He waited, with an eager smile, until the android relaxed his body, his eyes dimming down to a natural blue. “Identify yourself,” he spoke. His voice box was damaged, making his speech sound like he was speaking through a static tube. 

"My name is Ivan. I won't hurt you," he keeps his voice calm and quiet like he had with Novi. Now that the android had calmed, he lowered his weapon and came closer until he was within his arm’s reach. 

Ivan had opened his mouth to speak again, but the android’s arm shot forward and grabbed his scarf. He pulled the human down until Ivan was staring into flickering blue eyes. “Who… am I?” 

"I don't know. We've only just met. But I can find out." Dig through his memory files, erase them, reboot him, sell. 

"Are you ICON?" The android spoke the word as if he didn’t know the meaning. 

“ICON?” Ivan paused, his train of thought halting. "I'm Ivan, not ICON. What is ICON?"

He was silent and still for a while, making Ivan believe that it was another system malfunction. But since he had continued to blink, Ivan knew it was just his mind trying desperately to process an answer. "I... don't know. My limbs are damaged. I don't believe I can walk."

"I can take you to my home.” He took a step to the side, gesturing to Buster. “I can fix you. Would you like that?"

"I lack the currency required. At least... I believe I do..." His eyes moved sluggishly from Ivan to the droid, then back again. 

"I don’t require currency. Only your permission. Will you allow me to fix you?"

The android grew silent again, then slowly, he nodded. “Okay.” 

"I'm going to pick you up now. Is that alright?" 

"... I give you permission," he nodded again, "but become a threat and you're dead."

Ivan gave the android a nod in return before he slowly moved the junk off of him. It wasn’t until all of it was cleared that he realized the reason the android couldn’t move. 

His left arm and both of the android’s legs were marked with plasma burns. The damage of it melted through the synthetic skin, past the metal plating, and scorched the circuits underneath. The pattern of the injury looked like it was done with a rope, or perhaps a whip, wrapped several times around each damaged limb. Thoughts of fixing and reselling the android quickly began to fade. Not even a machine deserved to be treated like this. The rich were truly inhumane. 

“Does it hurt?” 

"Of course it hurts," he gave him a puzzled look, "but that doesn't matter."

"It does matter. You shouldn't suffer. Do you want me to power you down? I promise I'll turn you on again when you're safe. It’s so you won't suffer any pain when I move you."

The android frowned, his face scrunched up in distrust. "How can I trust you?"

"I guess you'll just have to. But I won't force you to agree." 

The android had no reason to trust Ivan. They had only just met. If Ivan was a dishonest person, he could shut Alfred down, take him apart, and resell every piece for a good price. Both parties knew that. But Buster had predicted that today was Ivan's lucky day, and that prediction showed to be true. The android, who couldn’t even process his own memories, had decided to trust him. 

“Fine,” he said, his voice soft. “Turn… turn me off. But I’m trusting you.” 

"You're making the right decision. I'll speak to you again soon. I’m turning you off now." He reached forward slowly, praying that the android wouldn’t activate his defenses once again. His fingers felt around the back of his neck until he grazed across a circular dent. 

For a second, his fingers rested there as he stared into the android’s eyes. He recognized the fear, the panic and uncertainty, but if Ivan was going to move him without hurting him, he would need to be shut down. 

“You can trust me,” Ivan reassured him. 

Then slowly, the android’s eyes slipped shut. 

[multi-fandom-trash-heap]

Quick, Kiss Me! Ch. 10 (Ben Solo x OC College AU)

I’m back again. Miss me? I know there aren’t many of you left but I’m still in this trash pit, kill me.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

***

Kira was pacing nervously, and it had nothing to do with the creepy messages that would still come through periodically. Rey had suggested she block the number, and for a day it worked. However they soon returned from another source, and Kira suspected continuing to block them was a fruitless endeavor.

Instead, she tried to focus her attention on her studies, and on her current source of anxiety…

Ben.

She took a deep, steadying breath, hands crossing over her as she unconsciously rubbed her arms. She had donned a sleeveless white floral dress and despite the warming sun the cool bite of spring still chilled her. It was one of her nicer outfits. She wanted to look presentable for his mother. Acceptable. Like she was deserving of the woman’s son.

Some of her nervousness left her for surprise when instead of walking Ben drove up and stopped in front of her. “I didn’t know you had a car.” She said with a raised brow when he rolled the window down.

“I don’t. It’s Phasma’s.” He said with a shrug. “Get in or we’ll be late.”

Kira quickly did as he asked, picking her bag up off the sidewalk and tossing it in the backseat before climbing in the passenger side. Ben had made a point to mention they would likely be gone overnight, and so she made sure to bring necessities just in case.

The first half-hour of their drive was done in silence, Kira shifting nervously in her seat as she stared out the window and tried to calm her racing mind. She hadn’t realized she balled her hands into fists until Ben set one of his on her own. Slowly she relaxed her grip, glancing over at him.

“It’s going to be okay.” He told her with a smile. “If anything I’m the one who should be worried. I ghosted her for the better part of a decade. She’ll love you.”

His words echoed Rey’s from the days prior and it made Kira smile as well, turning her hand upward to lace with his own. “Thank you.” She whispered.

Ben furrowed his brow. “For what?”

“For trusting me.” She told him, thumb rubbing soft circles onto his skin. “Believing in me. Accepting me, despite everything. I love you.” She squeezed gently and though Ben had fallen silent, he returned the gesture.

A long minute passed before he spoke again. “I love you too.” He whispered. “You accepted and saved me as well, Kira. More than you know. You’re the reason I’m able to do this.”

The girl’s eyes widen slightly at his word before her gaze softened. She didn’t say anything, just held his hand a bit tighter. 

A couple of hours passed with idle chatter, Kira eventually leaning her head on the window with a small yawn as the late afternoon sun hung low. Ben glanced over at her. “We’re almost there.” He promised. “About thirty minutes.” He glanced back over at Kira again in thought. “Hungry?”

Kira laughed softly. “I’m always hungry.”

“True enough.” Ben chuckled. “Let’s stop for food before you pass out on me.”

Kira hummed her approval and Ben changed course slightly. She assumed he knew the area they were now in, and already had somewhere in mind. Her assumption was proven correct when they pulled into a small but bustling restaurant. “I used to come here a lot as a child.” Ben told her. “My family was close to the owner.”

Kira felt her chest swell a bit. Knowing how estranged ben had been from his family in his teenage years made her realize how large a step it was that he’d chosen this place. She smiled at him. “Well, let’s see if it’s as you remember then, shall we?”

He returned the expression. The two of them exited and made their way toward the building, Ben lacing his fingers with hers.

Ben went to the hostess while Kira stood back just a bit, glancing around as she shifted on the balls of her feet. The atmosphere inside gave off a very warm feeling and she felt the small smile that just didn’t seem to want to leave her face. It was a nice feeling.

She glanced toward the back of the building and made eye contact with a short, elderly woman who was staring in her and Ben’s direction with narrowed eyes. It was only then that Kira’s mood shifted, suddenly becoming uneasy. The woman began walking toward the front, and as she did Kira saw her pull glasses down over her eyes and they widened significantly. “Ben Solo!” She all but shouted, making most of the building go silent.

Kira looked at Ben who now seemed as though he wanted the floor to open and swallow him. Kira had to agree with the sentiment. “Hey, Maz.” He squeaked, squeaked, as the woman approached.

Now that she stood before them Kira was able to see just how small this woman was. Ben towered over her, and yet seemed to almost cower in her presence. Kira didn’t know if she should laugh or cringe.

“The last time I saw you, you were an angsty teen. Last I heard you had run off with an unsavory crowd. What has you back now?” She pressed with a studious gaze. “You don’t seem to be in bad shape.”

Ben shook his head. “I’ve been attending college that last two years, so I really hope I don’t look that bad.” He muttered.

The woman hummed in what Kira assumed was approval. “Glad to hear it. That didn’t answer my question though.”

“I’m going to see mom.” He admitted softly.

The old woman’s eyes widened even further if that were possible. “The poor woman must have sold her soul.”

Ben glared. “Is it so hard to imagine that I realized I was wrong?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Ben Solo?” The woman deadpanned.

At that Kira did laugh, stifling her giggle with the back of her hand. It was only then that the woman seemed to notice her presence, her calculating gaze now studying her.

“I’m sorry, it’s just funny to see someone else call him out.” She said humorously.

“Traitor.” Ben muttered making Kira shake her head. He walked to her side, taking her hand in his. “Kira, meet Maz Kanata. She’s an old family friend and the owner. Maz, this is my girlfriend, Kira.”

Kira tried to ignore the way her cheeks heated when ben introduced her. “Nice to meet you.” She said softly.

“Ah, now I understand.” Maz said with a knowing grin. “You’re bringing your girl home.”

Kira blushed harder now, suddenly finding the floor to be very interesting. “Leave it, Maz.” Ben growled.

“Calm down, I was only teasing you, boy.” She shook her head. “In some ways, you haven’t changed at all.” She motioned with her arm. “Well come on, I’m assuming you didn’t drop in for a social visit.”

Maz took them to a table and left them in the hands of their waitress. Kira was very pleased with the quality of food and had to be overly conscious not to eat like a heathen. It was not often that she had real meals. Ben seemed to sense her struggle and laughed prompting her to kick him under the table. “You act like I just started dating you.”

“No, because if you had just started dating me I would be too distracted by the memory of my impromptu lip lock with you to worry about trivial things like manners.” She said seriously, though a smile graced her lips.

“Oh yes, because it was such an awful experience.” He teased, leaning toward her over the small table.

“The worst.” She smirked, doing the same.

“My establishment is PG only!” Maz chastised making them both snap back in their chairs. Ben groaned.

“Maz!”

***

It was dark when they finally left the restaurant, both giving Maz a kind goodbye.

Kira was grinning stupidly in the car as they continued to their trip. She was feeling oddly at ease after their stop, amused by the interactions between Ben and Maz. 

“What has you so happy?”

Kira looked over at Ben’s question. “I like seeing you like this.” She told him. “Being comfortable, interacting with people from your past. Let’s hope our next meeting goes as smoothly.”

Ben was silent a moment. “Yeah.” He whispered.

Kira stared at him, realizing for the first time how much this must be weighing on him. “Hey.” She set a hand on his arm and he glanced at her briefly. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here.”

Ben Sighed, reaching a hand and resting it on her thigh. It was an intimate gesture, but given the context, Kira found it more comforting than anything. “I did so many things wrong, Kira. My past is nothing but mistakes. Littered with more baggage than she can probably handle. I’m a mistake.”

Kira hummed quietly in thought. “I’m a worthless street junkie.”

Ben’s head snapped in her directions so quickly Kira thought he might have whiplash. “Kira, don’t you ever say that. You’re a straight-A student who is beautiful and going on three years clean. You are not worthless, and you overcame your past. You aren’t a junkie.”

“I was though. And you, Ben Solo, are not a mistake.” She said, poking her finger into his side. “You made mistakes, but you are not one. You’re no more a mistake than I am an addict.” She looked back out the windshield. “Now watch the road before you kill both of us.”

Ben blinked before doing as she asked. The car fell quiet for a long five minutes before ben spoke. “Thank you, Kira. You’re right. We both moved past who we used to be. We just have to face what comes next.”

Kira smiled to herself. “We’ll do it together.” She promised.

Ben’s own lips turned upward. “Yeah, together.” His hand found hers as it had earlier in the trip and he kept it there. “We’re coming up on the street now.” Kira bolted upright at that, her nerves returning.

The house was dark when they arrived save the porch lights and a single room. “That’s the kitchen. She’s waiting for us.” He glanced over at her. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as an orphan can be.” She muttered. Ben tensed beside her. “Sorry.” She looked over. “It was a bad joke. I’m ready, Ben.”

He seemed to sigh in relief at that. “Come on then.”

They slowly made their way up the stairs to the front door and stood there for a moment after before Ben finally took a deep breath and knocked.

Kira had to wonder if the woman had been waiting right next to the door with how quickly it opened. She was a stouter woman, but Kira could tell looking at her she was anything but frail, gaze set into a hard expression that slowly melted into a relieved smile. “Ben.”

Her boyfriend rubbed the back of his head, feet shiting nervously as he stared at the woman far longer than was necessary. Finally, he took a deep breath and replied with a tentative smile of his own.

“Hi, mom.”

[fatgirlwritesscenarios]

The Heart is Ticking

((A/N: And yet another one that was a completed request from forever ago. I remember having fun with this one, all the drama!))

Pairing: HoshixReader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 5,577

Summary: Soonyoung is in love, Jihoon is infatuated, and both of those things can literally kill you due to your heart condition. I don’t see how this can go badly at all.

                                                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Cheers to your Senior year!”

“Cheers to my prolonged release from the hell we call school!”

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

There was an echo of an excited howl as your glasses of Coca Cola clinked together, Soongyoung laughing when you downed at least half of your glass. You were both huddled close in the small restaurant you deemed “your spot”, squeezed together in the tiny booth with the surface of the table that separated you littered with hamburger and French fry wrappers.

There really wasn’t much to celebrate considering you were only a month into your Senior year, but your best friend, Soonyoung, had a habit of making anything and everything into a celebration. And you had a habit of just going along with it. It always ended in a good time, anyway.

“Yah, Y/N, you seem more bitter towards school than usual,” Soonyoung observed, grinning at you.

You glared in return while taking another swig of your soda, “…That’s because ou’re not there anymore to make it a bearable place! It sucks without you. Why did you have to graduate a year before me, huh?”

His smile grew wider, his cheeks red with a happy blush before he was mussing your hair, “Aww, is my little Y/N missing me already?!”

“Yah! Get your hands off!” you cried, batting his hands away, “So annoying. Who would miss that? And even if I did miss you, who’s fault is it that you decided to sign with Pledis to be part of their new group instead of going to university like everyone else? At least then I would have been able to see you more.”

You were right and he knew it. To be honest, he wished he could see you more, too; every day, just like it used to be…but for reasons no best friend should have for another, especially if one was too embarrassed and scared to admit it to the other. He shook off his feelings that were starting to weigh heavy on his shoulders.

“I was born to be an idol, Y/N! It’s my destiny!” he proclaimed instead with an air of regality he managed to make look comical.

You looked unimpressed, “We barely got to see each other over vacation. Is that your destiny, too?”

“Greatness requires sacrifice!”

“I hope you remember that when I’m too busy to come to your first concert.”

That was enough to break his heart and concede, the boy reverting into a whiny child; “No, Y/N, you have to come to our first concert! What kind of best friend threatens their support like that?!” he cried with a pout.

All you could do was laugh at him, finding his dramatics as entertaining as always. And all Soonyoung could do was smile at you, your laughter one of his most favorite things about you, the sweetest sound he’ll ever hear. It was all cut short, though, when your chest became painfully tight and breathing became a difficult task to accomplish. You gasped and fell into a coughing fit, your heart skipping at least three beats for every one beat it gave. Soonyoung panicked a little when you started beating at your own heart, the boy recognizing the signs immediately and jumping to your side.

“Y/N…Y/N, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. C’mon, inhale. Deep breath and push harder. Deep breath and push,” he guided you, wrapping his fingers around your fist and pressing it firmly to your chest rhythmically.

There was a big thump against your rib cage and you were finally able to breathe normally, no longer choking. You gulped down lungfulls of air and leaned back in relief, your breath shaky.

“God…that was a bad one,” you rasped, rubbing your sore chest.

Soonyoung was busy rifling through your bag, “Your medicine. Have you taken your last one for the night?”

You checked your watch and cursed, “I’m an hour late for the last pill.”

“Aish, you dummy! Shouldn’t you know better by now?” he pulled your medicine bottle from your bag and opened the top, placing the purple pill in your hand.

You knocked it back with a full glass of water, sighing deeply right after and resting back in the booth. Soonyoung stared at you, his expression reflecting worry as he kept an arm around your shoulders to comfort you.

“You scared me,” he said seriously.

You had the decency to look guilty, “I know. I’m sorry…Thanks for helping me.”

“Of course. I have to help. You’d die without me.”

You groaned aloud when he ruffled your hair for the second time, elbowing him directly in the gut. It wasn’t a hard blow, but he acted like you just made a hole in his stomach. His theatrics took your mind off of the episode you just had, making you fall out in giggles. He smiled at you, then, putting his arm back around your shoulders and rubbing your shoulder comfortingly.

You checked your watch one more time, your eyebrows lifting, “It’s late, Soonyoung, we both need to start heading out. I just missed the bus back home, so I need to be out there ready for the next one before it gets even later.”

“No way. The next one isn’t for another 30 minutes,” he said, scooting out of the booth, “I can’t have you sitting out in the dark alone at this time of night!”

“Well, you’re not waiting with me. Don’t you have practice early in the morning? I’m surprised Seungcheol isn’t blowing up your phone yet,” you retorted, the two of you gathering your trash and tossing it in the garbage before leaving the restaurant.

“There’s only one solution to our predicament, then,” he started, waiting until your eyes were completely on him, “You’ll have to spend the night at the dorms with us!”

Soonyoung counted himself a lucky man when you didn’t argue with him, possibly too tired to put up that kind of fight, and the two of you were soon on your way back to the dorms, a trip that would only take 20 minutes as opposed to the hour one back to your house. Your conversations were as silly as ever, but he was just as observant, taking not of how many times you had to stop from exhaustion, your fingers resting over your heart.

Those episodes you had, though they were few and far between if you were diligent in taking your medicine, always left you feeling drained. You never liked to draw attention to it, hating being a burden to others. You couldn’t downplay it around Soonyoung, though, as he finally confronted you when you stopped for the 5th time to “enjoy the scenery” of the alley to your left.

He turned around with his back to you and crouched down, “Hop on, Y/N.”

“Huh?”

“Get on my back. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

“What? No! Why would you want to do that? I can walk just fine,” you insisted, squaring your shoulders indignantly and beginning to walk with purpose.

Soonyoung was faster and, much to your chagrin, you were too weak to fight back when he took your arms, wrapped them around his neck and hoisted you up on his back.

“Eek! Soonyoung, you clown! What the hell?!” you cried out, swiping at his hair as he hooked his arms under your legs, “I said I was fine to walk!”

“Yeah and it’ll be morning by the time we get back going at your pace,” he teased.

Clicking your tongue, you grumbled about him being a jerk, but submitted anyway, relaxing against him. You shouldn’t have known he would pick up on the signs and do whatever it took to take care of you- he wasn’t your best friend for nothing.

“Thanks, Soon,” you said quietly, resting your head on top of his.

He smiled, melting at the gentleness in your voice and grateful that you couldn’t see his blushing face, “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

The rest of the walk continued in silence until you reached your destination. The dorm was dark and quiet save for a singular lamp left on in the living room; Soonyoung had let Seunghcheol know he was bringing you over to crash and he must have been the one to leave the light on. The rest of the boys were more than likely in bed already and so, the both of you had to be quiet- a tricky task to complete once you started arguing about where you would sleep.

“Y/N, you’ve had a rough night. Take my bed.”

“I’ll be fine on the couch. I always am.”

“The couch is not comfortable and you had something like a heart attack! You need to get a good sleep!”

“And I’ll get a good sleep on the couch! If I don’t get a good sleep, it’s because you sat here and yelled at me about where to sleep!”

“Y/N!”

“Soonyoung!”

The appointed leader of the Performance Unit groaned in agitation, stomping his foot like a child and writhing about in a tantrum. Despite all that, he didn’t say anything else, giving you the chance to stand up and approach him, squishing his cheeks in your hands.

“I’m sleeping on the couch. And that’s that,” you stated with finality, crossing your arms after.

Soonyoung lost this one and sighed, “Fine. If you’re gonna be stubborn like this…I’ll go get you some blankets.”

You giggled and he left to retrieve the desired items, missing the sound of the front door opening again. He grumbled the entire time he was getting the blankets and pillows about how difficult you were being, your strange way of putting others comfort before your own. It tended to stress him out sometimes, especially when all he wanted to do was spoil you at times like this, but…even that trait of yours he found endearing. He paused in his task to admire that cute look on your face when you argued against him, that adorable little frown and small glare that said you meant business.

‘Why do I have to have such a cute best friend?...And why do I have to be such a coward?’ He frowned at his own musings, shaking his head of those thoughts and gathering the items he had collected.

He made his way back to the living room, becoming aware of the whispering he heard. He didn’t see you on the couch where he left you, but the whispering was becoming louder…coming from the kitchen. He dropped the blankets and pillows on the sofa and then followed the sound.

“Do you think Mingyu will get mad if I drink his last can of Coke?”

“Probably. He’ll whine a lot for sure.”

“What if I buy him an entire pack tomorrow?”

“Just take mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

The whispers and giggles that floated through the air came from you and Jihoon, Soonyoung stopping just in the doorway of the kitchen. The shorter male was home a lot earlier than usual and while the older was glad to see him home getting some rest at long last, he still felt irritation bubbling in his chest. Jihoon had this look in his eye…whenever he saw you, whenever he was with you, accompanied by a smile brighter than anything the rest of Seventeen had ever seen. Soonyoung knew that smile. He knew that look. It was the same look he felt himself give you and that same smile.

Soft. Adoring. Lovelorn.

“Why are you creeping around the corner like that?” Your question broke Soonyoung out of his thoughts, prompting him to step further into the light as you and Jihoon turned to face him. “Nearly scared the life out of me, haha.”

“Yah.” Soonyoung strode to your side in two steps, snatching the can of soda from your hand and putting it on the counter, “You shouldn’t be drinking that. Especially not after…what happened. It’s not good for you.”

You just rolled your eyes and scoffed, but didn’t argue. Jihoon looked at you curiously, his brows furrowing in growing concern.

“What? What happened?” he asked, moving a bit closer to you.

Soonyoung was the one who answered, “Nothing too concerning, Jihoon-ah. She’s fine now.”

You smile somewhat tightly at Jihoon, giggling a little as he touched your arm lightly, “Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N-ah? What does soda have to do with anything?”

“I’m fine, Jihoon-ah, I promise,” you assured him, turning those pretty eyes Soonyoung loved so much onto Jihoon, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

The shorter nodded, but he didn’t move his hand. He even stroked your arm a little, as if to say that he was there for you. You appreciated the gesture, even felt a little bashful from it, but Soonyoung was starting to boil. However, instead of blowing up and making things uncomfortable for all three of you, he simply cleared his throat and nodded towards the living room.

“The blankets and pillows are out there for you. You should probably get some sleep now, Y/N. Do you need to borrow some pajamas?”

“Nah, I’m actually going to try and be out of here before you guys even wake up tomorrow. I have a Girl’s Day planned with a few friends from class that starts pretty early so, it’ll just be easier to stay in my clothes to run home in.”

He nodded and then looked at Jihoon, fighting to keep his agitation at bay. “We should get to bed now, Jihoon. We have practice tomorrow morning.”

“I will in a bit. I really want some tea, so I’m going to make some. Do you want any, Y/N?” Jihoon asked you, making his way towards the stove where the teapot sat.

“Sure! What kind are you making?” you asked, following him.

“Why don’t you choose one you like? We have some in the cupboard right there.”

“Over here?”

“Yah!” You both stopped at Soonyoung’s exclamation. “Tea!? At this time!?”

You just about had enough and rolled your eyes loudly; “Soonyoung, stop policing my beverages. You know who needs sleep? You. Now get going! Out of the kitchen and off to bed! Go! Go! Go!” you commanded, pushing him gently with a playful smile, “Maybe a few Z’s will put you in a better mood.”

“Y/N-”

“I don’t want to hear it! Good bye! Good night! You’re the best!” You cut off any more objections with a solid hug around his torso, Soonyoung frozen into silence, his heart beating a million miles a minute. “You really are the best, Soonyoung. Thanks for taking care of me.”

He embraced you back out of habit, happiness spreading through him at your softly spoken words. You looked up at him and stepped back, pushing him one more time towards the rooms.

“Good night, Soonyoung.”

“…Good night, Y/N.”

And then he watched you retreat back into the kitchen, your voice mixing with Jihoon’s as the two of you picked up your whispering. Soonyoung heard your giggles loud and clear followed by the other boy’s restrained laughter, Jihoon more than likely giving you that half-moon smile of his. Soonyoung didn’t want to go to bed. He didn’t want to leave the two of you alone. He didn’t want to give Jihoon any more of a chance to steal you from him. But he couldn’t very well run in there and say something like that…not now. So he had no choice.

With a heavy heart, Soonyoung turned and went to bed.

*~*~*~*~*

This was the worst night of his life. This was the worst news he had ever received. “What? What do you mean he has a date with Y/N?” Soonyoung asked, looking panicked.

Seokmin’s brows furrowed, the poor boy confused by Soonyoung’s reaction, “They have a date tonight. Jihoon asked Y/N to go out with him, like, three days ago. They’re supposed to meet up at the park for some kind of music festival in about half an hour I think.”

No…No, this couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was not okay with this. Soonyoung could accept a majority of the things that had been going on between you and Jihoon: the text messages, the phone calls, the Facetiming at random intervals of the day. He could accept that you sometimes came over to hang out with Jihoon instead of him and he could even accept how close the two of you had gotten over the past month and a half because it still didn’t mean anything serious was taking place.

But this? This date? This very real, very serious date? No…He could not accept this…He won’t accept it. With no rational thinking to guide him, only his intense feelings and passion, Soonyoung sprinted out of the dorm with Seokmin shouting behind him. He headed straight for the park he was told about where you and Jihoon were supposed to meet, a twenty minute walk he cut in half with his running.

When he got there, he was sweaty and exhausted, but he didn’t care. He searched for you, knowing that you would probably be showing up soon. Where Jihoon was very punctual, wanting to always be right on time, you liked to be at most 15 minutes early just to give yourself that time to relax. Soonyoung paced back and forth, checking his phone every thirty seconds it felt like; he even went further into the park to see if you had gone to sit by the fountain.

“Soonyoung?”

When he returned to the entrance, there you were. God…you looked beautiful. New outfit, new shoes…even a little make up to make your eyes bigger, brighter. You really wanted to impress Jihoon, it looked like…why couldn’t he be the lucky one you dressed up for?

“Soonyoung, what’s up? What’s wrong? Your face is flushed,” you said with concern lacing your voice, your hands coming up to feel his cheeks, “Are you getting sick? Hold on, why are you here?!”

“Why am I here? Why are you here?!”

“Wha-I’m here to meet Jihoon for a date. Why?”

“A date that you didn’t even bother to tell me about?!”

“I…I thought I did. I-It must have slipped my mind, I’m sorry!”

“It slipped your mind to tell me that you were going on a date with one of my group members?! Really, Y/N?!”

“Soonyoung, why are you yelling at me? What the hell is going on with you?!” you shot back, feeling attacked and somewhat scared of his anxious actions. His eyes were wild and he was breathing was shallow, as if he couldn’t get enough air. “So I forgot to tell you about my date with Jihoon! I said sorry! But I still don’t think that’s a good enough reason for you to come down here and scream at me like a psycho!”

He suddenly grabbed you by your shoulders, his grip firm as if he were afraid to lose you, and your heart started racing. Something was definitely up…Something was wrong. This wasn’t your Soonyoung. He was never like this, never. He never…He never scared you like this.

“…Soonyoung…” you whispered, staring into his fiery eyes alight with passion.

He stared back, parting his lips to say, “…Don’t.”

“…Huh?”

“Don’t…choose him, Y/N,” he started, his voice shaking, “Don’t choose Jihoon. Choose me.”

Everything felt like it came to a screeching halt, your eyes widening and your ears burning, a white noise filling them. “What…What did you just say?” you muttered, holding back a powerful emotion.

“Choose me, Y/N,” he repeated, “I’m better for you…I already know all about you. Your ins and outs. I know exactly how to cheer you up when you’re mad and how to comfort you when you’re upset. I know your favorite movies to watch and exactly when you’ll want to watch them. I know all of your favorite secret places to hide when you want to be left alone and I’ll always know how to find you. Jihoon will have to learn all of that from scratch and how do you know that he’ll even want to?! He’ll never know you like I know you! He’ll never know how to take care of you like I do!”

He placed his hand over your heart, hot and comforting…something that you could hardly handle right now. “Stop,” you whispered brokenly.

“He’ll never know how to take care of you like I do, Y/N,” he continued, determined.

“Stop, Soonyoung…”

“He’ll never love you like I love you, Y/N.”

“Soonyoung, stop!”

“Didn’t you hear me?! I said that I love you!”

“STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!” Soonyoung was stunned when you pushed him away, hot tears spilling down your cheeks as you crumbled right in front of him. “ENOUGH! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANYMORE!”

“Y/N…Y/N, it’s okay…”

“NO! No, it’s not okay! How could you do this!? How could you do this to me?! Now?! Of all times!? After all these years!?” you shouted, shoving him again as your emotions got the best of you, “You jerk! You asshole! I hate you! I hate you for doing this to me!”

“Y/N…” he reached for you.

“NO!” you shook him off, pointing at him with a fierce glare, “I waited for you! All this time, I waited for you, Soonyoung! I waited for you to turn around one day and see that I was there! That I was the one, but you never did! You were never interested and it broke my heart every damn day!”

This was getting out of hand. Your heart was beating too fast and you could feel it. Soonyoung could sense it as well, becoming panicked when you showed no signs of stopping or slowing down enough to take a breath.

“And now! NOW you want to confess to me!? After I worked day in and day out to forget about my feelings for you?! After I cried myself to sleep every night for TWO YEARS trying to get over you!? Don’t you DARE tell me that you love me after putting me through that pain! Don’t you dare tell me that lie!”

“Y/N, stop! You’re getting too excited!” Soonyoung begged anxiously.

…But it was too late. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and grabbed your heart with the tightest grip, squeezing the life out of you. Your heart stopped beating and you started choking, gasping desperately for air. There was no single heart beat after every three missed ones. It just stopped and you couldn’t breathe. You clutched your chest and fell forward, Soonyoung catching you instantly.

“Y/N…Y/N!” Soonyoung shouted, hating the sound of you struggling to breathe. Hating the sight of the fear in your eyes.

“Soon…young. S-Soon…young…” you gasped, clutching at his arms.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he chanted, laying you down, tears blurring his vision as he blinked them away, “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I promise you, it’s going to be okay. Just keep trying to breathe. Keep trying to breathe! Someone call for help! Please!”

A small crowd started to form around the two of you as Soonyoung folded his hands over your chest and started compressing. Jihoon, who had just arrived with a single flower in his hand for you, broke through the circle to get a better look at what was going on. When he saw that it was you, he immediately dropped the flower and bolted to your side.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, sliding in beside you, “Soonyoung, what’s going on?! What’s wrong with her?!”

“Call for help!” Soonyoung demanded, not once looking up at the younger as he labored under the chest compressions.

“Soonyoung, answer me! What happened to-”

The older boy grabbed Jihoon by the collar of his shirt and jerked him close, shouting at him, “Call for help now or she won’t make it!”

Jihoon was shaken up by the reality of it and immediately did as he was told, his shaky hands pulling his phone from his pocket while Soonyoung returned to performing CPR.

“Y/N…Please��Please don’t go,” he begged you when your gasping started to slow down, your eyes fluttering closed, “Y/N, please…Stay with me. You have to stay with me!”

After Jihoon called for an ambulance, he returned to your side, at a loss of what to do now while Soonyoung begged with you. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for telling you so late! I’m sorry for doing this to you! Please don’t leave me! Let me make it up to you! Please stay and let me make it up to you! Please! I love you, Y/N! I love you so much! I’m begging you, PLEASE!”

Jihoon stared at his groupmate now, his confessions spilling out of his heart, out of his very soul. Suddenly, all those times that Soonyoung seemed irritated whenever Jihoon talked to you started to make sense. All the masked hostility where you were concerned. The hawk-eyed stares when the two of you Facetimed.

Soonyoung loved you…Soonyoung was in love with you…there was no beating that.

*~*~*~*~*

The hospital hallways were white and sterile, disinfectant heavy in the air. Soonyoung was seated on the ground by your hospital room door, waiting…just waiting. Luckily, the ambulance had arrived at the park just in time and quickly whisked you away to the hospital while he and Jihoon took a cab to meet you there. Soonyoung had called your parents to tell them what was happening and Jihoon had called Seungcheol. Everyone had then rushed to the hospital: worried, scared, your parents in tears.

That was hours ago. You were fine now, but were being kept overnight for observation. You had been allowed visitors and of course your parents had been first to see you, overjoyed that you had survived your ordeal. Next, eleven of the thirteen members of Seventeen had piled into your room, all of them wanting to be sure that you were okay and even bringing little gifts to cheer you up. Jihoon was the next one to visit you after the boys had gone and was still in the room with you.

Soonyoung didn’t mind it…he didn’t mind being last. He dreaded having to face you; it was his fault, after all, that you were here in the first place. If he hadn’t been so selfish, if he hadn’t tried to force things to move at his pace…then maybe you wouldn’t be lying in the hospital right now.

The door to your room opened and outstepped Jihoon. Soonyoung looked up at him, waiting to see if he would say something. Jihoon closed the door in a little and leaned against the frame, sighing deeply.

“…She has a heart disease.” It was a statement, but Soonyoung nodded as if he had been asked a question. “She never told me about it. Not at all.”

“She doesn’t like to burden people with it,” Soonyoung said, his voice rough, “She doesn’t like it when they treat her like something fragile because of it…and she’s ashamed of it, in a way.”

“I was freaking out when I saw her on the ground like that…how did you know what to do? How did you keep so calm?”

Soonyoung shrugged and smiled cryptically, “I’ve had practice. She’s had episodes before…when she forgets to take her medication. It’s never been this bad, though…this I blame on myself.”

Jihoon didn’t say anything and Soonyoung looked down at his hands. “…I’m sorry…for ruining your night,” he said quietly, biting his lip.

Jihoon gave a low chuckle and shook his head, “I’m not the one lying in a hospital bed right now.”

Soonyoung’s head hung low, pain reflecting on his face. Jihoon frowned and reached down to squeeze his shoulder.

“She asked for you. She wants to see you. Don’t make her feel worse by frowning like that. She wouldn’t like it and I think you know that.”

Soonyoung took a deep breath and nodded slowly, climbing to his feet. He faced Jihoon, rubbing the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly, “Are you two…okay?”

The shorter of the two gave a small smile, “We’ve said our goodbyes to each other, but we’re still friends. So yeah…we’re okay.”

“Are we okay?”

“We’ll always be okay, Soonyoung-ah,” Jihoon said, nodding toward the door, “She’s waiting for you.”

And then he left. Soonyoung stood staring at your door for a few prolonged seconds, but he eventually swallowed his fear and pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit to allow you comfort while you rested, but he could still see you. Clear as day. The heart monitor was beeping rhythmically beside you. Your arms stuck with various needles and an IV drip of your medication to make sure it stabilized your heart. You were laying there so peacefully, your eyes closed and your breathing soft.

You were breathing…You were okay. Soonyoung wanted to cry.

“I know you’re there, Soonie.” Your soft voice drifted through the quiet room, startling the boy as your head slowly lulled to the side and your eyes landed on him.

He gulped and approached the side of your bed, his hands shaking. You looked so tired and all Soonyoung wanted to do was to take this entire night away, to make it so it never happened. He started when your hand gently took hold of his.

“Stop it. This is not your fault,” you stated firmly, staring up at him, “I should’ve known better. I should’ve tried harder to keep myself under control…this is not your fault.”

He broke down again, choking on a sob as he leaned his forehead on your shoulder. Funny how he still looked to you for comfort when you were the one that had suffered. He wrapped his arms around you as best as he could, crying into your hospital gown. You stroked his hair and whispered tenderly in his ear that everything was going to be alright.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“I know, Soonyoung.”

“I never wanted to hurt you like this.”

“I know.”

With a little shuffling, the two of you managed to fit on the hospital bed together, curled around one another. Soonyoung wrapped his arms around your waist while you wrapped yours around his shoulders, his head resting on your chest. He could hear your heart beating, the most beautiful sound he would ever hear in the world. After tonight, no music he would ever hear, create, or sing would compare to the melody thumping inside your chest. He adored that sound, the sound of your heart bringing you back to him.

“…You wanna know something?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Soonyoung looked up at you, waiting for you to continue. “The doctor said that I was actually legally dead for about ten minutes,” you said, feeling him Soonyoung tense up.

“Don’t tell me that,” he muttered, hating the thought.

“Too late. He also said that by that time, considering my disease, I should have been too far gone to save…then he asked me what brought me back. I told him that it was you.”

Soonyoung paused, the words sinking in enough that he eventually lifted his head to look down at you. You stared back with a wry smile on your lips.

“I told him that I heard your voice calling me. You kept telling me to stay with you. I think I was somewhere peaceful when I heard it…but I followed your voice anyway. I guess that means that…I still love you.”

“…Y/N,” he mumbled, searching your face and finding nothing but sincerity.

You swallowed thickly, your eyes misting over, “I really did try to get over you, Soonyoung. For two years. I thought I had succeeded when I started talking more with Jihoon. I thought he was someone that could help me complete the process…that I could learn to love him instead. But then, tonight, I found that it was a little too easy to let him go…and that’s when I realized that I still love you.”

A tear streaked down your cheek and Soonyoung kissed it away. “I came back for you, Soonyoung…I came back because I still love you.”

He cupped your cheek with a shaky hand and sealed his lips over yours. You were both quivering, your emotions starting to run high and your fingers clutching at his shirt. He kissed you once…twice…three and four times, following them with tiny kisses all over your face.

“You’re gonna make those two years up to me, Soonyoung.”

“I will, Y/N. I promise I will.” His voice was filled with determination, his lips stealing another kiss, a luxury he had only ever dreamed of. “As soon as you’re out of the hospital, I’m going to take you on a date. A real date. A nice one. I’m going to spoil you rotten and kiss you all the time and cuddle you at every chance I get. Even when we debut, you’re still going to be my top priority and I don’t care what happens or what the others have to say. I’m going to treat you like the queen you’ve always been to me and I’m going to love you until you can’t stand it anymore.”

“You better.”

“I will.”

You giggled when he kissed you again, staring up at him and caressing his cheek as he pulled back. He smiled at you and leaned his forehead against yours, sighing happily.

“You better,” you repeated, receiving a chaste kiss and a chuckle.

“I will.”

[eeyore101247]

Are You Trying To Kill Us?!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Roommate AU Prompt: New roommate cooks alone for the first time and almost burns down the house (@americanbeautiies)

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff

1,541 words

Masterlist

You groaned as you looked over your scattered notes and lab data sheets. You had a major lab due soon, and you were struggling to get it typed up. Nothing seemed to make sense in your data, and it didn’t seem to support your hypothesis, no matter how many times you rewrote it. Maybe you just weren’t approaching it right, or maybe you were looking at it all wrong. After 5 hours of staring blankly at the numbers and words littering the pages, you had come no closer to a resolution.

Your pencil snapped underneath your stressed grip, and you cursed under your breath. Dropping the broken pieces, you sighed, running your fingers through your (Y/H/C) hair, messing it up even further. You were getting nowhere with your work, and it was only frustrating you more. It didn’t exactly help that in the last hour, your new roommate had decided to start banging around pots and pans in the kitchen.

You groaned as a particularly loud thud came from down the hall. You buried your face in your hands; you didn't even want to know what Peter was up to. There was something weird about him, but ever since your last roommate just sorta disappeared, you needed help with the rent. Within a week of putting up a post, Peter Parker had showed up at your door with a sheepish smile on his face, stuttering over his words as he asked if the offer was still open.

It had been a crazy couple months since he had moved in. He was rarely around, always sneaking into the apartment in the dead of night. You swore you heard him talking to himself occasionally when you walked past his room. On the days he was home, he would be rushing to get homework or studying done. Sometimes, you were able to convince him to stay home and watch movies for a night so the two of you could relax. Those nights were always fun and where you really got to know the adorably nerdy dork you lived with. Your favorite nights were the ones where the two of you would stay up late trying to binge watch all the Star Wars movies. You always managed to fall asleep halfway through, but Peter never seemed to mind. 

One time, you had faked it, having been curious how you always ended up in your bed. As you laid across the couch, pretending to be asleep, you heard Peter start to make a comment then stop. A soft chuckle came from him, the sound of the movie coming to a stop as his presence on the couch disappeared. It wasn’t long before you felt his arms slide under your back and knees, gently picking you up bridal style and carrying you to your bedroom. Your mind raced, wondering if he did this every time you fell asleep during movie nights. You soon felt the softness of your bed, and the warmth of his arms disappeared as he pulled away. You stayed still and waited for the sound of your door shutting, but you had to suppress a shutter when you felt a soft pair of lips press against your forehead. Peter mumbled a soft 'goodnight' before his footsteps left and the door shut behind him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the high pitched sound of the smoke alarm and the scent of smoke filling your nose. Eyes wide, you quickly pushed away from your desk, hurrying to the kitchen to see what was happening. You heard the clash of pots, followed by muttered curses and the sound of something being sprayed. As you round the corner, you saw Peter standing in the kitchen, fire extinguisher in hand as he sprayed it at the flames that consumed whatever was in the pan.

“Peter! Are you trying to kill us?!” You yelled as you ran into the kitchen, grabbing a dish towel and trying to smother the flames since the extinguisher didn’t seem to be working. You managed to put out the fire, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. In the pan, sat the remnants of a pancake, though by the smell, something hadn’t been right with the batter to begin with. With a sigh, you brought your attention to the batter mixture to your left, leaning over and giving it a sniff.

Yep, something is definitely not right with that batter.

You bite back a gag as you turned around to face Peter. His head hung as he stared at the floor sheepishly. A trail of bright red led from the tips of his ears down across his cheeks. You could tell he was embarrassed by the way his shoulders hunched forward like many of the other times you’d caught him in weird situations. You let out a sigh, walking over and giving him a smile.

“It’s fine Peter. You were trying to do something nice. I get it.” You said softly, resting your hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. He relaxed under your touch, letting out a breath before looking up at you.

“So you aren’t mad at me for almost burning down the apartment?” He asked softly, his gaze hopeful and pleading. He looked similar to a sad puppy, pleading for forgiveness from its owner. You crumbled beneath that look, shaking your head slightly as you dropped your hand back to your side.

“I’m not mad Pete. What matters is that you and I are both ok.” You said with a smile, turning around and starting to clean up the mess. You heard Peter scramble behind you to help, quickly picking up the ruined batter and dumping it in the trash. 

“Wanna just get take out?” You asked, looking over at him with a smile. He gave a small nod, his gorgeous brown eyes meeting yours. 

“Yea, um, sure.” He stuttered, giving you a goofy smile before focusing on helping you clean. You couldn’t help but smile at his adorably dorky personality, remembering all the Star Wars stuff in his room. Several action figures and other collectibles always littered his room, his collection ever growing as he start collecting Funko Pop figures. His Lego Death Star he said he built with his best friend Ned, sat securely propped up on his large desk, the Millenium Falcon decorating the other side.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he wiped his hands off on a Star Wars towel he got off Amazon, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Pizza?”

“Pizza sounds good.” 

He nodded in response, dialing the number and walking off, putting in your order. You watched him walk off, admiring the toned muscles in his back that you could see through his shirt. For as dorky of a guy he was, he was extremely fit and good looking. One of the many reasons you had fallen for your roommate. You would never admit that secret though, knowing he would never feel the same way about you. 

You knew plenty of his secrets, though it was by complete accident. He didn’t know you knew though, having only caught him when his back was turned or he was too distracted. You knew how much he missed his aunt, having caught him looking at her picture several times. You’d also caught him doing impressions of the Avengers in a mirror, which always caused you to giggle. You’d also seen a lycra suit in his laundry one day, but you didn’t say anything. Of course, it explained his late nights and sudden disappearances. It also explained his fast reflexes whenever you tripped over your own feet. 

You remembered one particular spill you'd taken not too long ago - one that had changed how you felt for the adorable brunette. You were returning home after a particularly long day. Your bag had broke, leaving you to carry all of your textbooks and folders in your arms. By the time you had reached your apartment, your arms ached and legs shaking a bit from having to stabilize all this weight without the support of the handrail. You had managed to finagle the door open, gently pushing it further with your foot as you stepped in, but with your luck, you stumbled over one of your shoes sitting by the door, your books tumbling out of your arms and to the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the painful collision with the hardwood floor, but it never came. Instead, you had felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, catching you before you could fall to the floor. The strong scent of a familiar cologne had filled your nostrils, heart fluttering in your chest as his warmth soaked through to your very core.

You let out a sigh as you set the now clean dishes in the cabinet, turning around and smiling as you saw Peter sitting on the couch, heart fluttering in your chest.

You had fallen in love with Spider-Man, and didn’t know what the hell to do about it. But padding across the living room to plunk down next to him on the couch seemed like a pretty good place to start.

AN: Ahhhhhh! This is has been sitting in my finished work for a while and I’ve been kinda hesitant about posting it, but here it is! Thank you so much Carrie (@spidey-waffles11) and Anna (@softspideyboy) for betaing this!

Thank you for reading!

~ LoLo *^-^*

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[nomnomsik]

Triptych | Chapter 1

Summary: Ryo really didn’t expect anything to change from high school during your first year of college. Yet, other people apparently seemed to have different plans. From creepy letters to gifts, and finally gifts to his own home, it isn’t until his friends come in to help him that everything stops…only temporarily. However, Ryo’s trust in the three of his friends is tested, the lingering question of which one is at fault… if it’s even only one of them.

Pairing: Rapline (Primarily Yoongi) x Male OC 

Genre: Slow-burn, College AU, Mystery, Love Triangle

Word Count: 6.4K

A/N: Here’s the long-awaited male!OC fic with rapline! It’s quite long and I’m not sure how everyone will respond to it, but please let me know any feedback you have! Enjoy~ Thank you to @kimseokmomjins for the helpful ideas as well. I hope you like it bb :(

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, heavy stalking, anxiety/suspense, slight sexual content, lots of profanity, non-con kissing, physical violence, car crash, possessive tendencies, and panic attacks. Please read with caution.

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

“Ryo! Wait for me-” 

It was like this every day, the boy always following the other boy wherever he went, completely fixated on his dear friend. 

“I’ll see you in the cafeteria in like- not even three minutes though.” 

It was Namjoon who halted in his tracks, bag strapped to his back as he hesitantly gave a small nod, turning the other way and taking his leave. Ryo sighed, ruffling his black hair as he quickly unlocked the lock of his locker, snapping it open and unhooking it off. He brought the palm of his hand to the metal door that secured it shut, holding onto it as he slowly pulled it open. His body tensed, eyes sharp as he prepared himself for the downpour when he turned it all the way, a regular occurrence that never ceased to end.

Dozens of cards fell out, spilling onto the floor, their crisp red envelopes sending its greetings to him. Ryo quickly bent down, sweeping them up and shoving them into his bag, yanking the zipper closed. He then quickly shifted his attention to the other items in his locker, a box, neatly wrapped in a white paper, a bow and flower, adorned on top. The ribbon was ripped off as he opened the box, only for a sneer to escape his lips. 

Cartier, now Omega? What’s next? A Rolex? 

He slid the lid back on, throwing it into his bag with all the other items before slamming the locker door shut. Was this the fifth time? Sixth? He quickly hooked the lock back on, not that it even mattered, ready to run to the cafeteria in hopes to avoid being watched. There was an eerie feeling in his gut, a pair of eyes always watching him. By this point, he had completely lost track of how many times gifts he had received and how many locks he had gone through.

Why me? 

When he used to have the guts to read the letters, they started off friendly and suffocatingly full of affection. He wanted to believe it was all a prank, but from the beginning, he knew these were serious. The fact that they were handwritten, small hearts littered all over the cover in bright and overly saturated colors, not only made him uncomfortable but also sent terrifying thoughts into his mind. How could someone be so dedicated in writing all of these? Especially to someone like him? Someone that he didn’t even know?

What would ignoring them do if the cards continued to come in? 

His concerns were proven right. As Ryo tried to ignore the gifts, often throwing them out, the letters got more intense, more violent. Ryo often wondered why he couldn’t help himself, finding his fingertips picking up the delicate paper and slowly taking in every word. It was terrifying, but exhilarating at the same time. He wanted to know what the other person had to say. 

Maybe it was the fact that the whole thing was surrounded in mystery, the idea of “why” constantly lingering and eating away at his mind. Or maybe he secretly liked how it felt to be loved. To feel important and a necessity in another person's life. 

And thus, that’s how he found himself opening letter after letter until he realized how threatening they had gotten. He often found a disgusting feeling in his stomach whenever he seemed excited at the thought of what was inside, but whenever he opened one, he was more terrified than the next. He didn’t want this anymore. 

Ryo couldn’t function without oftenly looking over his shoulder and envisioning things or someone that wasn’t even there. Every touch on his shoulder or arm frightened him, often zipping around with wide eyes. From that point on, he never opened another one no matter how much he wanted to. He forced himself not to, a large pile accumulating in the trash bin of his room.

Why are you ignoring me?

Why are you not wearing the gifts I got for you?

Why…? Do you not love me? But...I love you.

Ryo halted in his tracks, almost gagging in the middle of the hallway as the memory popped in his mind. No matter how many locks he swapped and replaced, the gifts kept coming. Chills soared through his body every second of the day as if the blank white walls were staring at him and Ryo couldn’t help but glance over, always conscious of his surroundings. 

But what was the worst part? 

There was no one he could tell this to, not even his friends, not even his family.

Why not? 

Would they believe him? 

Of course, they would. That’s what friends do. 

But, can I trust them? 

…

Why are you doubting them? Why are you asking that question in the first place? Do you… not trust… them? 

Perhaps, do you think that one of them...?

Ryo frustratingly pulled at his hair, resuming his quick steps which only carried him into a large conglomerate of people. He sighed deeply, the creepy feeling crawling up in his arms, but he shook his head, steadying his stomach. He needed to ignore this dark feeling and hope and pray things wouldn’t get worse… Even though he knew that was highly unlikely. 

While he had an itch to find the culprit, confronting that person seemed terrifying as well. To find out the person who sent him all these messed up and disgusting letters only made him want to throw up, his face turning white. What would he even be able to do? What would he even be able to say?

“Hyung!” Namjoon called from his spot at the table, his two other friends sitting next to him as they looked up, each giving their own greetings. Hoseok smiled brightly, a full smile, eyes closed and hand in the air as he waved enthusiastically. Yoongi looked the other way, giving a brief wave and resuming back to his previous activity on his phone. His mint green hair was a new addition to his looks and Ryo happened to like it more than he should have. Ryo gave them a lopsided grin, taking a seat next to Yoongi who had shifted away from the edge of the bench, giving him space to sit on the end.

With the three of his best friends, Ryo’s worries seemed to dissipate into the air, as if they no longer existed. Their presence alone seemed to reassure him that even if something were to happen, he had them and without a doubt, he knew they would always be there when he needed them. But, telling them was the most difficult part. What could they possibly do? 

Ryo shifted away from his dark thoughts as he decided to join the small ongoing conversation. Their cold exteriors would melt when they were brought together, large smiles and smirks displayed as they chatted and ranted about the latest feuds of the day, Yoongi taking up most of the latter category. 

“Ryo, are you not going to the showcase tonight?” Yoongi had asked, their conversation seeming to have run dry. 

Ryo nodded, looking the other way as if that helped to hide the reason behind it. 

“Why not?” Yoongi questioned, trying to penetrate through Ryo’s protective barriers. It was a simple question, but all Ryo could do was shrug, pretending like he didn’t care about the whole thing, teeth chewing on his straw as he chewed and snapped it in half.

“You always went there though.” Yoongi persuaded, visibly frowning, his eyes starting to point sharp daggers at the younger. 

“Dude, I don’t know. I’m just tired I guess… and I don’t wanna go. I could go shopping or something for clothes or sneakers...” 

Yoongi dropped the topic, huffing and muttering ‘bullshit’ under his breath for all to hear. He stood up, throwing his can into the trash, missing as he left it roll onto the floor, promptly taking his leave as the other three boys remained in their seats, legs sprawled out as they gave him a dismissing wave. 

“Hyung, are you really not going?” Hoseok asked, cocking his head to the side that Ryo would have found annoying, but he bit his lip instead, nodding. 

“Yeah… I mean, if you guys really want me to go, I’ll go. Just tired…” 

“Hyung, you should go. I bet it’ll make you feel better than staying home all night.” Namjoon smiled, only for Ryo to nod again, his face and eyes dull as he zoned out to everything around him. 

But, it was when Ryo returned home, he decided to go to the weekly showcases at the campus. He locked the front door as he stepped inside, kicking the dozens of letters that sprawled across the entrance of his home aside. 

He threw his bag onto the floor of the living room, spilling the contents of letters out as Ryo harshly fell onto the sofa, soft cushions supporting his fall. It had only been a couple of minutes, his breathing steadying as his body submerged further into the couch as if he was being sucked into it. A loud knock on the front of his door startled him, his body jumping up from the couch as his brain shot several scenarios in his head. 

Ryo tiptoed around the living room, skipping up the stairs with quiet steps as he rushed to his room, trying to look out his window to catch a glimpse of the person outside his door. All he noticed was the mailman walk across the lawn and back into his small white truck, before zooming off. 

With quick steps, Ryo snapped open the door, throwing the cardboard box into his home and slamming the door, securely locking each slot before turning back to the mess. He tore open the box, eyes widening as he grabbed the AF1’s that sat in the Nike shoe box. There was another box that had been sitting underneath the first, Ryo’s hands ripping it open as well to find another pair, in a different color with red and black detailing. 

Ryo’s feet quickly slid into the crisp new shoes, fitting in snuggly as he looked frighteningly down at the pair of sneakers. 

Why did they fit him perfectly?

He never bought these. Were they another gift to him? He dug through the box, only to find a typed out letter that read:

I thought of you while I was shopping and guessed you might like these! I bet you'd look really cool in them. Let me know what you think. If you like them, wear them often, and if you don't that's alright too! I'll always try and do better for you, RYO. 

He shuddered, tossing the card away from him as he threw the sneakers off his feet. It felt like something was crawling on his skin, something watching him from inside the box, or inside the shoe, or insi-

Ryu covered his head, cradling his body to himself as he rocked back and forth. He needed a distraction. Anything. He threw the shoes off at the wall, slipping into his own. 

His solution? Dragging himself to the showcase at the campus. He found himself sitting down in his car, pulling in and parking by the school during the evening, the warm sky blazing with colors of orange. As the sun lowered further and further down, Ryo entered the main lobby filled with people conversing, the large waves of voices bringing a warm comfort of community. It was then Ryo dug into his pockets, pulling out his phone as he texted into his group chat, asking where the boys were. 

While people started filling the auditorium, Ryo waited by the entrance doors, noticing how his phone had remained silent. His messages weren’t read and so he waited, and waited, until he cursed at himself, realizing that they weren’t going to come in the first place. In fact, they never said they were going to come. They said he should go… Ryo turned to look back at the filled out auditorium and it looked so unappealing. 

Why did it look so dull and flat? There were no colors and everything seemed to be muted. There was no desire in him to take that step and join in like everyone else. Was it because he had come here so many times he grew out of it? 

Ryo turned away, his feet sluggishly walking away from the doors and outside, the sun no longer out and the sky filled with small darkness, but not pure pitch black. Without all the people that surrounded him, he again felt that feeling that stabbed him in the gut, that made him hunched over as if he was about to vomit. 

Someone had to be watching him. 

Ryo bolted away from the campus and into his car, locking the door shut and closing all the windows. He started the engine, pressing on the accelerator as he drove away from the school, the dark feeling in the pit of his stomach as he tried to concentrate on the road and not how he felt. 

Had it always been this dark? The sky was turning darker and darker by the minute as if an oncoming storm was approaching. Making a sharp right turn, he quickly approached the street he lived on but quickly noticed something was off. 

Ryo brought his car to a stop, squinting as he saw a dark figure near the front door of his home that seemed to peer into his blacked-out windows. Ryo stepped on the gas pedal as he slowly drove past his home, the tires carrying him down the street. The dark figure looked over at the sound of the tires against the asphalt, noticing the car with its bright lights, walking with quick steps over to him and then breaking out into a full run. 

Ryo jumped at how quickly the figure approached him, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal as his engine roared loudly, bringing him quickly down to the edge of the street as he looked into his rearview mirror, the figure was consistently after him, not appearing smaller and smaller as he continued further down the road. 

Eyes focused on the mirror and not what was in front of him, Ryo forgot about the sharp right turn at the end of the street, slamming his foot on the breaks as he hastily turned the steering wheel, avoiding a collision into the steel fencing of the turn.

His car’s tires burned into the street, screeching and coming to a sudden halt as Ryo’s body lunged forward and back, whiplash and pain shooting through his head. His car collided with a mailbox instead, Ryo’s head hitting the back of the headrest once again as he hazily brought his hand to his seatbelt, snapping it open as he threw the car door open. Ryo stumbled out of the driver's seat, his windshield shattered and his feet losing balance as he fell onto the cold asphalt. 

His vision completely blurry and his head in massive pain, Ryo looked over his shoulder from outside his car, noticing how the dark figure was still approaching and coming after him. Ryo’s wobbly legs started to run, but he quickly fell and tripped, landing back onto the asphalt, palm’s dirty and head in agony, sickness overcoming his line of thought. 

Looking over his shoulder once again, the figure turned the corner, getting closer and closer as Ryo willed himself up, hands squeezing his head as he ran in the dark, screaming his lungs out to any awake stranger in their homes. 

“Someone help! H-Help! Please!! Help me!! Someone is- someone! PLEASE! ANYONE!” Ryo screamed, running on the sidewalk as his blurry eyes caught the light of one of the houses at the end of the street. He beelined toward it, rushing to the door and slamming his fist on the surface as hard as he possibly could, even if his arm began to numb up. 

“Please! Let me in! Please, someone!!” 

It was then that the figure halted in its tracks, only taking slow steps and observing the scene. It was until the door opened, Ryo swished inside that the figure stopped, turning around while Ryo was quickly tended to, his face full of tears and body shaking.

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

Namjoon rushed into the police station as Ryo sat huddled in one of the seats in the lobby, the night still young. Ryo looked up to see Namjoon’s worried expression, his breathlessness, and giddy movements.

“Hyung, are you alright?” 

“No, I’m not alright!" Ryo shouted, covering his face between his arms as Namjoon took a seat beside him. He let out a harsh sigh only to rub the slight tears that escaped his eyes. “I thought I was about to die. Fuck...” 

“Hyung…” Namjoon’s face was filled with sympathy as his hand faltered, unsure whether trying to soothe him would make the situation better or worse, or if it would hurt his pride. He wasn’t sure what to say. After all, how could he possibly imagine something so scarring as that?

"I was so fucking scared, Namjoon. I am scared! I don’t want to go back. I'm not going back! Something’s out to get me, I know it.” 

Namjoon stayed silent, preferring to just listen. He understood what Ryo needed and how he wanted to be treated. Ryo was the kind of person who didn’t want solutions, he just wanted someone to listen to him, someone to vent out his feelings and not take any offense to it. 

“Hyung... what if you stay at my place then?” 

Ryo looked up at Namjoon, his face showing no emotion as he said those words to him. Namjoon just had a small smile on his face, his eyes crinkled, almost as if he was about to cry. 

Ryo couldn’t move his mouth to say anything and only stared. Namjoon stuck his hand out, to which Ryo grabbed it, a confirmation of his offer, Namjoon helping him up from his seat. If he had someone that was with him, Ryo had no reason to feel scared anymore. The comfort of another person seemed to flood out his negative thoughts. He had a protector that would save him. 

Besides, was there any reason for him to decline?

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

“Hyung, you can take this room,” Namjoon called from the hallway, ushering him into the small space that looked more like a closet. “It’s a guest room but since I don’t really have guests I just shoved all my junk in it… Yeah... Sorry about that…” He muttered at the end, kicking some of the boxes on the ground as he made space on the floor, dust flying everywhere as Ryo let out a harsh sneeze. 

“Namjoon-ah... You really have to get better at clea-”

Another loud sneeze vibrated in the room, Ryo violently shaking his head as he brushed his nose with the back of his arm. 

“Sorry hyung.” Namjoon gave a sheepish smile, picking up some of the boxes and storing them in the hallway closet as more room slowly became available to set down the folded sleeping bag. 

“Thanks again, Namjoon. I appreciate it. You really saved me.” Ryo smiled, scooting his body further and further into the sleeping bag as Namjoon stood by the door, ready to turn off the lights for him. Namjoon gave him a cute nod, a proud smile forming on his face as his chest began to stick out more in confidence. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Ryo,” Namjoon whispered, turning off the lights as he walked over to his bedroom, his footsteps thumping across the ground as Ryo listened to each step, the flick of the light switch and the eventual close of his door. 

Ryo took a deep breath, burying himself further into the sleeping bag. It gave him a somewhat protected feeling, buried and hidden away so he couldn’t see anything besides the opening. What if he zipped himself in closed? He had giggled at the thought, shutting his eyes and waiting for sleep to take him. 

....

….

…nn.

Ryo’s eyes snapped open. 

What the hell was that?

What time was it?

Ryo’s head was still hidden within the sleeping bag and yet… He definitely heard something. It creaked against the wooden floors of Namjoon’s apartment, a chill zooming down his spine as he lay still, body paralyzed, eyes shut closed. 

It touched him. 

Fuck what was that? Fuck, fuck. What the fuck…

With his eyes sealed closed, Ryo slowly felt a feeling build up in his stomach, one of irrational confidence. It was at that moment, Ryo sprang his head and upper body out of the sleeping bag, ready to face what was there despite all the chills that covered his arms. And, there was nothing there.

It was just pure pitch darkness… and it terrified him. If he stared hard enough, he would surely hallucinate something that wasn’t there. Why did being alone frighten him so much? 

Ryo quickly slid his entire body out of the bag, opening his door and turning the corner as he tried to ignore the creepily long and dark corridor, slipping into Namjoon’s room as he tried to quietly turn the knob open. If he was too loud, he would surely wake something, or someone up, even if he didn’t know what. 

With his first step in Namjoon’s room, the floors creaked, Namjoon stirring and waking up immediately as he groggily sat up, turning on his bedside lamp, only to find Ryo teary-eyed and his entire body shaking. Namjoon scrambled out of bed, rushing over to the older as he gave him a reassuring hug, picking him up and setting him on the bed.

“N-namjoon…” Ryo whispered, his voice breaking as Namjoon rubbed his back in comforting motions. “Can I please sleep with you tonight? I’m so scar-”

“Shh, of course, of course, you can. Come here.” 

With Namjoon’s arms around him, his body felt warm and secured, the blankets covering both of their bodies and Ryo quickly fell asleep. 

"It must've been scary right?" Namjoon whispered, soothingly rubbing his back. "Don't worry. I'll be here to help you, hyung.

It was almost three in the morning and as Ryo drifted out of consciousness, Namjoon’s lips trailed over the back of his head and down his neck, only to end up with a smirk.

After that night, it became a regular occurrence, Ryo ended up finding his way to Namjoon’s room first besides his own before he went to bed. With Ryo’s hand resting on the doorknob, he immediately relaxed, often forgetting to close the door as Namjoon let him in, ushering him on the bed and the empty space he had saved next to him. 

Ryo took a seat on the spot like usual, his legs submerged in the blankets as he pulled it up to his lap. Namjoon yanked him into a tight hug, Ryo’s arms were frozen and in an awkward position that made him difficult to react or even reciprocate the action. 

“Ah, Namjoon, wait…” 

Namjoon gave the older a small pout, only for him to laugh as Ryo’s arms finally got free, placing them over Namjoon’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure why Namjoon wanted a hug all of a sudden and it slightly confused him, his head tilting to the side, but he wasn’t complaining because it was the least he could do. His gratitude was forever with Namjoon. 

What he didn’t expect was for Namjoon to lean his head in closer, bringing his lips down and kissing him. Ryo jolted in place but found himself closing his eyes, his body getting pushed back further and further until his head hit the back of the bed frame, Namjoon’s legs pressing closer and excitement rushing through his body as he got hit with a pump of adrenaline. Ryo couldn’t bring himself to push Namjoon away or even deny him… He somewhat… liked it too. Namjoon’s lips were so soft and plump and Namjoon’s fingers so tenderly touched the back of his head like he was as fragile as glass, carefully brushing through his hair. 

When Ryo finally opened his eyes to take a peak, he was supposed to notice how ethereal Namjoon looked, concentrated on kissing the younger, but instead, from his peripheral vision, he saw something dark, a black figure that seemed to stare at the two of them. Ryo let out a panicked yell, pushing Namjoon off as he turned the other way, hands coming up over his head as tears started to build up in his eyes again. 

“Hyung? Hyung?! What’s wrong?” Namjoon shouted worriedly, shaking his body as he tried to catch a glimpse of the older’s face, but Ryo continued to bury his head into the pillows, body uncontrollably shaking. Ryo lifted his arm, pointing behind him. 

“I-I saw something there… By the door… In the hallway. It was l-looking at us. N-namjoon…” 

Namjoon looked over, seeing nothing but nevertheless, getting up from the bed and closing the door and making sure it was tightly shut. He returned back, sighing internally at the fact that Ryo was in a panic-stricken state, losing his chance for sexual development between the two. Instead, he gave a gentle smile, calling it quits for today and reassuring the older that everything would be fine. Why wouldn’t it be when he was there to protect him just in case? 

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

“Hyung… Hyung…” Namjoon panted, the older leaning on his chest as his large arms wrapped around Ryo. “Hyung, I love you so so so much.” He planted a kiss on the older’s temple as their bare skin grazed each other, Ryo’s face a shade of deep red. “Say it back… Hyung, please.” 

“I-I love you too, Namjoon…” Ryo whimpered out, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as sweat rolled down his skin, cheeks flushed. 

“Thank you, hyung.” Namjoon smiled, closing his eyes as Ryo yelped, the younger’s hands resting on his hips as he pushed him further and further into himself. “I knew you were just being shy about it all along with hyung. I knew you loved me the moment when we became ‘friends.’ But hyung, we’re so much more than that. We’re lovers, right hyung?” 

“R-right.” 

It was those damn birds that awoke Namjoon from his slumber and pleasant dream, vision blurry but recognizing the figure of Ryo who was deep asleep, blankets curled around his small body as he breathed with ease. Namjoon couldn’t help but break into a smile, fingertips toying around with the sleeping boy’s hair, feeling the texture of the soft strands that covered his eyes. 

“Hyung, wake up,” Namjoon whispered, his breath fanning over Ryo’s ears, the boy squirming and groaning, burying his head under the blankets. A laugh escaped Namjoon’s lips as he tugged on the blankets, only to find resistance as Ryo pulled back. “C’mon hyung, you can’t stay in there forever.” 

“Just try to test me Namjoon-ah,” Ryo mumbled, his head poking out under the covers as he tried his best to muster up an intimidating expression, only to quickly fall back asleep. “I’ll fight… you…” Ryo mumbled incoherently, drifting back asleep.

The next few days were the same, the two of them walking back home together as Ryo noticed the lack of letters in his locker. He was bubbling inside with happiness, positive thoughts in his mind telling him he had won. 

“Hyung, I didn’t know you could cook.” 

“Cause I don’t,” Ryo replied bluntly, stirring the pan as Namjoon peered from the side. “I just know how to read instructions.”

The pair usually remained in silence as they ate or moved around the house, only vocalizing if they needed anything from the other. Ryo was the one who mostly initiated their conversations, often asking for specific items he could not find that Namjoon had stashed around the house. It would be items such as a toothbrush, extra toilet paper, or sometimes just tissues. 

“Hyung, I’m gonna head for a shower,” Namjoon called from the other end of the hallway as Ryo slouched on the sofa.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I should too...” he mumbled to himself, standing up from his spot and walking to the extra bathroom near his room. 

When Ryo stepped out of the shower, his fringe wet as he dried himself off, he stared at his reflection in the mirror only to look away. Ryo slipped on his clothes before opening the door to the hallway, his wet feet leaving footprints on the floor. He tossed his soaking wet towel into the hamper, scratching his head and looking for another one to further dry his hair. Returning back to the hallway, Ryo opened one of the closets, finding only a vacuum cleaner and a broom, with unopened bundles of toilet paper and paper towels.

He slowly creaked the door to Namjoon’s room, peering around at the neatly stacked books on his desk and folded blankets that draped his bed. He could hear the water pouring onto the walls and tile floors in the bathroom, the sound of plastic and the rustling of the shower curtains. Ryo took a step into his room, a dark feeling overcoming his body as he gulped harshly as if he shouldn’t be in his room, especially without Namjoon’s permission. Ryo shook his head, shaking the feeling off as he approached Namjoon’s closets, snapping one open, only to find all his regular t-shirts and pants. No towels.

Ryo sulked, closing the closet door and tiptoeing out, quietly shutting the entrance to the room and walking back to his small guest room with his hair still wet. Even though the room was still filled with Namjoon’s discarded junk, Ryo tiptoed through the mountain of things, knocking some of the plastic ornaments down onto the floor. He was a couple of feet away from the closet door that was blocked with wooden boxes, but he still pulled on the handle, huffing as it remained unbudged. 

Ryo let out a harsh kick, shoving the boxes out his way as a loud sound echoed in his room, finally having a strong grip on the door handle. He kept tugging on the knob, his feet digging into the floor as he grit his teeth, the friction finally paying off as the closet door swung open, Ryo landing on his butt. 

When he finally opened his eyes, he was mortified. All over the floor lay red envelopes, wrapping papers of various colors, and other decorations for presents. What made his heartbeat further was the easily identifiable boxes that sat on the shelves. Not towels, but watches. 

Cartier, Omega, Rolex, and Hublot?

His breathing rapidly increased as his palms sweatily rubbed against the floor, scrambling up and shutting the door, not bothering to clean the mess up on the floor. He grabbed his bag, shoving his valuable items in and rushing down the hall and near the door, sliding on his sneakers as fast as possible. 

Oh my god, oh my god.

“Hyung? Hyung? Are you there?” Namjoon called from his room, walking out and into the hallway with his nighttime t-shirt and shorts on, hair wet and eyes wide as he stared at Ryo with his backpack sliding down his arm and his hands messily slipping on his shoes. “Hyung…? Where are you... going?”

“I’m just heading… out for a bit.” Ryo quickly lied, turning to the door as his fingers halted in the air, staring at the lock system on Namjoon’s door and flipping switches back and forth, getting one out of the three free. 

“This… late at night, hyung? And… why do you have your bag with you? You just showered...” 

…

“Hyung, why are you lying to me, huh?” 

Namjoon’s voice came out threatening, rage laced underneath his words as Ryo quickly whipped around, not expecting Namjoon to have already made large strides toward him.

The next thing Ryo knew, he crashed into the door, back slamming against the wood as he groaned, only to find Namjoon hovering above, his eyes wide. “Hyung…” His voice wavered, bringing his head down to the crook of Ryo’s neck. “Hyung… why are you leaving me? I told you I love you… I love you…” 

“Namjoon, get off of me.” Ryo groaned, pushing at the other’s chest, but he didn’t budge, grip intense on his wrists. “It was you this whole time?” He seethed, only for Namjoon to chuckle like it was fun to finally get caught. 

“Oh c’mon hyung. Why did it take you that long? I’ve been waiting since forever…” His breath trailed over Ryo’s skin, the older hunching over and squirming, still trying to break his way through of Namjoon’s hands. “I’m always by your locker everyday… I thought it was so obvious… Do you really think I can’t watch you put in your combination every day? Do you really think I’m that dumb?” 

“You’re fucking crazy, Namjoon. That’s what you are.” Ryo seethed, trying to force his way out with a sudden burst of strength, only to get slammed back down.

“Hyung… don’t say that.” Namjoon sulked, his eyes looking down on him. “You know that’s not true. What you meant is I’m smart. That’s why I’m in the same classes as you, hyung.”

“I’m not even supposed to be here, remember? I’m in college now with you. I came here a year early because of you. Why do you think Hoseok got in? It’s because of me, hyung.” 

“You and Hoseok did this?” Ryo’s arms lost its strength as his face peered up at Hoseok’s name, his body shaking at another possible betrayal that was quickly shot down.

“No, he doesn’t deserve any credit for this, hyung. This was all me. He just didn’t want to be left behind while the two of us came here to join Yoongi-hyung.”

“Hoseok’s pretty smart too.” Ryo retorted, hitting a nerve in Namjoon’s body as his jaw clenched, his hold tightening. 

“Hyung, I don’t think you should piss me off.” 

“What? Are you jealous?” Ryo scoffed, trying to steady his voice as he provoked the younger, Namjoon’s face to darkening. “We all know Hoseok is the most friendly, warm, and loving guy out of our entir-”

Namjoon crashed his lips onto Ryo’s in an effort for him to just, shut up, his hand coming up to cup his face. Ryo used that opportunity, recoiling his leg and landing a harsh kick on Namjoon’s knee, a yelp escaping his lips as Ryo kicked him again, this time in the shin, Namjoon’s body falling hard onto the ground. As Namjoon cradled his knee in pain, Ryo quickly latched the last two locks, turning the lock and bursting through. 

Ryo sprinted out of the door, running down the long hallway as fast as he could, his hair blowing behind him. He hugged the wall as he made the right that led to the set of elevators, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. All the way at the end of the hallway, the elevator was already open, a couple walking in as Ryo continued to run, hearing Namjoon’s rapid footsteps behind him, like a predator chasing down his prey. 

“Hold the door!” Ryo yelled as loud as he could to catch the couple's attention. “HOLD THE DOOR!” He screamed and repeated, the couple dumbfoundedly turning around to stare at Ryo with Namjoon quickly behind him. “FUCKING- DON’T LET IT CLOSE. PLEASE! PLEASE!!” Ryo begged, the doors to the elevator closing right before his eyes.

“NO!” Ryo screamed, desperately lunging out his arm into the elevator doors, the sensors picking him up as they snapped open, slipping his body through and maneuvering to the control panel, slamming his fingers onto the closed-door button multiple times, watching as Namjoon’s figure disappeared with the slam. 

Ryo finally let out a deep breath of relief, giving the couple an awkward smile as he brushed his hair out of his eyes, hands coming up to his hips as he hunched over, exhausted. He knew Namjoon was rushing down the staircase, ready to intercept him on the lobby floor. Ryo bit his finger, contemplating stopping on the fifth floor, waiting for a couple of minutes as Namjoon would only end up in the lobby alone. But it was too much of a risk. Ryo could accidentally meet Namjoon in the staircase as he went down, or when he decided to go back up to a certain floor and to make matters worse, he wouldn’t be able to know if Namjoon was taking the elevator or not. He was too damn smart and unpredictable, that Ryo didn’t take the chance, watching as he finally reached the lobby floor. 

He stepped out of the elevator with the couple, walking over to entrance doors as rain poured down from the night sky, a small curse leaving his lips. It was then that Namjoon emerged from the stairwell, his breathing rough as he spotted Ryo looking up at the rain, back turned to him. 

“Hyung!” 

Ryo zipped around, only for Namjoon to grab him roughly, dragging and pulling him around as Ryo physically fought back. 

"Don't leave me hyung. You can't. Not after everything I've done for you. You can't … you can't!!"

"Namjoon let go." Ryo gritted, yanking his arm away as the man standing behind the desk in the main lobby rushed over. 

“Excuse me, what’s going on here?” 

“I was trying to leave. But this guy… He’s trying to keep me against my will. LET GO, NAMJOON.” 

“Hyung!” 

...

“Hyung...?” 

Their heads turned over to the voice that came in the other direction, Hoseok standing outside the apartment complex with an umbrella under his head as he made eye contact with Ryo. Namjoon’s grip lost its strength as Ryo snapped free, only to stand by Hoseok, huddling himself under the protection of the umbrella. 

"Sir, I think it'd be best to just return to your room." The lobbyist spoke, patting namjoon on the shoulder. 

"But I-" Namjoon started only to get cut off as Ryo nudged Hoseok in the other direction. "Hoseok, what are you even doing here?" 

Namjoon shot daggers at him, only to receive a shrug at his question. 

"C'mon, I'm guessing you were heading out of here?" Hoseok directed his attention to Ryo, Namjoons anger burning inside of him as Hoseok paid him no mind. 

Ryo gave a nod of confirmation, pulling Hoseok along and away from the doors. But before he was gone from sight, he just shot Namjoon a smirk, his tongue sticking out from his mouth. Namjoon could only watch as he clenched his fists, swiftly turning the other way and back to his room, a destructive aftermath burning every inch of his apartment.

[twdfanfic-multifandom]

"Call it plan B. Hell, call it plan Z. But I am packing the good drugs."

Daryl x Reader

*Set in season 6*

The heart monitor beeped rhythmically and Denise sighed, pulling the thermometer from Scott's mouth. His skin was a sickly shade. We didn't need a thermometer or a heart monitor to know that he was doing badly - and it didn't help that the infirmary was excruciatingly low on medical supplies.

"So what do you need?" You asked Denise while scanning the empty shelves of the room, pen and paper in hand. Daryl was perched on the edge of the windowsill staring at Scott's weak body.

The bullet wound inflicted upon by Sturgess about a week prior wasn't showing any signs of improvement, and Alexandria's make-shift doctor was becoming increasingly worried. Desperate and anxious, she'd come to you and Daryl to ask for help.

"Painkillers, definitely. Antibiotics, too. Gauze, bandages, antiseptic," she listed the various items, counting each on her finger as she named them. You stopped writing halfway through 'antibiotics'; Denise was going way too fast. You sighed and balled up the paper, tossing at across the room at Daryl. The paper smacked him square in the face and he shot you a 'what the hell?' look.

"Pay attention, Dixon. We're doing this together." 

The archer shot up off the windowsill and brushed past you.

"Yeah, yeah. Medicine and shit. Got it," he said flippantly and you rolled your eyes. Offering Denise a reassuring smile, you left the room and followed Daryl to the armory.

After grabbing the necessary weapons, the two of you hopped into a crappy blue truck and headed out of the community and towards a pharmacy about an hour's drive out. The drive felt short, and soon enough the old brakes were screeching the truck to a halt outside a dilapidated building.

The parking lot was littered with papers and other trash tumbling around lightly in the breeze, while a few walkers limped aimlessly around in front of the building. 

"Ready?" Daryl asked you as the two of you made your quiet exit from the truck, weapons raised. You nodded. As you approached, the walkers suddenly found direction and started walking towards the both of you, jaws snapping hungrily. It wasn't long before the half-a-dozen grotesque corpses were stilled and lifeless on the paving, easily taken out by your knife and Daryl's crossbow.

Without the snarls of the dead, the sound of your footsteps seemed loud as you walked towards the pharmacy. A few of the windows were smashed in but the glass doors seemed to still be locked in place.

Silently you said a prayer and hoped that it hadn't totally been ransacked. Scott's life - and maybe many others in the future - depended on these supplies.

Daryl carefully maneuvered himself through the broken window before offering you a hand, which you gratefully took.

"Stay behind me," the man instructed gruffly. The two of you had been a great team since you first arrived at the prison, and you'd frequently go on runs together. Despite the number of times you'd proved your capabilities, Daryl seemed to always be protective of you. It was kind of annoying, but it also left your heart feeling warm and you couldn't help but be grateful for the over-protective asshole with the angel-wing vest.

Ignoring him, you remained next to him as the two of you scanned the building. Much to your relief, it was clear of walkers. Unfortunately it also seemed to be clear of anything remotely useful; the shelves were barren and dusty, save for a box of condoms.

Upon further inspection you saw that it was grape flavor, and you shoved it inside your mostly empty backpack. Daryl eyed you incredulously, making you blush.

"What?" You said defensively, feeling as if you'd just been caught doing something inappropriate. "People back home might need 'em. Not everyone is celibate like you, Dixon," you teased and kept walking, ignoring the way he gawked at you.

"Whatever," the archer mumbled.

Glass and dust crunched beneath your dirty boots as you continued scouring the emptied building. It was difficult to find medical supplies considering that it was one of the first things that people scavenged for nowadays, so it wasn't a surprise to find that there wasn't even a single Asprin to be found.

"It's a bust," you said with a sigh as you mentally said your goodbyes to Scott. Closing your eyes, you leaned against the dirty wall and pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to release the tension building in your temples. It was something you'd done for as long as you could remember. Headaches were as frequent in your old life as they were now.

"Hold up," Daryl said as you snapped your eyes open and followed his gaze. There was a door just beyond the prescription counter. Flecks of gray paint chipped off the metal door, leaving it looking mottled and decaying. Moving forward. Daryl tried the silver handle. It didn't budge.

"I've got it." You approached the door and pulled the lock pick set out of your jean pocket. One of the reasons why you went on runs so often is because of your valuable lock-picking skills, something you had learned on the internet a few years prior to the outbreak. It wasn't something you'd ever admitted considering that it took a lot of the 'bad-ass' energy out of the skill. After about a minute, the lock clicked and you entered the room cautiously, Daryl so close behind you that you could feel his warm breath tickle your neck. You shivered and your stomach fluttered. It annoyed you how quickly he could make you feel like a hormonal high school girl. The worst part was that he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"Holy shit," Daryl muttered under his breath, snapping you back to reality. The room was fully stocked - various pill bottles, packages, and fluid-filled bags lined the racks. Scott was going to be just fine.

Rushing forward, you got to work on finding the right medicines before stuffing your bag full of antibiotics and other pills. Daryl read the labels of various bottles through his shaggy hair before shoving them into his backpack. Scanning the names of everything he was taking - Ambien, Fentanyl, Nytol, and a variety of opioids and sleeping pills - you scoffed loudly. He glanced over his shoulder at you and did a double-take when he realized you were staring disbelievingly.

"Do you realize about half of those things are more likely to kill Scott than they are to heal him? Saving him is Plan A, Dixon."

The archer shrugged and kept shoving away the heavy medication. The toned muscles moved beneath his tanned skin with every movement he made, and you were briefly distracted.

"Call it plan B. Hell, call it plan Z. But I'm packing the good drugs," Daryl said as he bagged the final bottle of pills.

"So plan Z is to put Scott in a drug-induced coma?" You asked sarcastically, shifting the strap of your loaded backpack.

"It is what it is," he said, making you laugh softly. A whisper of a smile tugged at his mouth, and your heart swelled at the sight. A small blush flushed your pale cheeks when you realized he was staring. He always seemed to stare every time you laughed, as if the sound were alien to him... and his steely blue eyes were like that of a toddler discovering something new, eyes filled with what could only be described as intrigue and wonder.

You cleared your throat and turned your attention back to the shelves filled with supplies that could determine life or death.

"So if I get shot, your ideal plan would be to pump me to the brim with some bizarre chemical concoction until I'm totally unconscious..." Your fingers traced the cool metal of the shelves, fingertips coming away covered in dust that had settled there over a few months.

"Sounds fun," you added dryly.

His footsteps stopped and I turned around questioningly, wondering if maybe he'd seen something. Instead you saw him staring at you through the strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes. He absentmindedly chewed on his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did when he was thinking.

"Ya ain't gonna get shot," his voice was low and almost... menacing. 

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" You challenged him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I ain't lettin' that happen," he said, his protective side coming out again. The most frustrating part about it was that there was no way of knowing whether he was protective because he cared about you the way you cared about him, or because he saw you as a sister. A lose strand of your (y/c) hair fell in your face, but you left it there in hopes that it would somehow help mask the heat that was slowly creeping up into your cheeks for seemingly no reason. Being an easy blusher was the worst.

"You can't protect me from everything," you said softly, staring at the dirty floor. Your eyes stayed trained on his scruffy boots as they slowly made their way towards you. When they stopped a few inches from your own dirty boots, you lifted your head to look at Daryl. His eyes looked almost wild, slightly angry. Your heart pounded against your chest so loud you thought it would attract all walkers within a 10 mile radius.

Daryl's one hand gripped his crossbow, and he slowly lifted his free hand toward you. His fingers tentatively brushed your hair out of your face, lightly brushing over your skin at the same time.

"I can damn well try," his low voice seemed to make your knees tremble weakly, and you mentally reprimanded yourself for being so pathetic. The inches of space between the two of you seemed to be charged with electricity, making your breath slightly more shallow than you'd care to admit. He breathed heavily, and each breath that touched your face seemed intoxicating. All you wanted was to close that space between you... he was so near...

Suddenly he took a step back as if he'd been shocked, and turned away from your trembling frame.

"We should go," Daryl said as he stormed out of the room, backpack slung heavily from his shoulder. Shutting your eyes, you once again pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath before following him out of the pharmacy.

Once you safely got to the truck, Daryl sped out of the parking lot and back towards Alexandria. The successful run felt like a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, and it was good to know that Scott now had a chance at survival. 

The scenery blurred past you as you looked out of the rolled down window, cool afternoon air blowing on your face. Glancing out the corner of your eyes, you noticed Daryl looking at you, his gaze lingering longer than what would be considered safe while driving.

"Eyes on the road, Dixon," you suppressed a smile as you stared straight ahead.

"Shut up," Daryl grumbled and stepped on the gas, making the noisy truck speed ahead towards home.

[noisyquokka]

Part Of My Universe

pairing: Jaemin x female reader (Ft. Rosé || Blackpink)

genre: fluffy fluff fluff

length: 2.2k

warnings: N/A

Gist- A (totally not) promised afternoon picnic turns into an evening picnic, eating as the sun sets and cuddling under the stars.

As requested by my little snake, Em! @nanjaemin Here it is! If it’s a flop, Mercury’s in retrograde and it’s messing with my focus so you can blame it on that hoe! 🙃👍🏻

“Jaemin, please!!” You whined, following him around the house. He ignored you for the umpteenth time that morning, a smirk on his lips. 

“You promised! You can’t go back on promises just like that.”

What did he promise you? Jaemin had promised to take you on a picnic. The date had been set three weeks ago and now he had taken back his promise. You were having none of it. It had been a month and a half, at the very least, since you two had been on a date. Both of you were busy and it was hard to schedule anything together without plans being canceled. You followed him into the living room, waiting for an answer.

“I’m not.” He replied, sitting down on the couch. You pounced on the cushion next to him, observing his every feature. “So we’re going, then?!” You asked him, a hopeful grin shaping your lips. Jaemin couldn’t help but chuckle at your anticipation. The obvious child-like hope and wonder flooded your eyes, he almost forgot who he was staring at. Without any hesitation, he leaned toward you, watching as you tried and failed to back away. You hadn't realized how little space this couch spared until now, your head finding the soft cushion behind you. Jaemin hovered over your frame, close enough that he could kiss you. 

“I was gonna say, I’m not going back on my promise because I never made one.” He whispered, shooting you a smug grin.

“Jaemiiiiiin!!!” 

He chuckled again, pushing himself off the couch. Your feet thumped across the wooden floors as you trailed behind him like a puppy, pouting at his back. Na Jaemin was playing you. He knew, you knew, and you were ready to deal your hand. You sighed heavily, halting in front of yours and Jaemin’s shared bedroom. He hadn’t even realized you stopped following him, confidently waltzing down the hallway while you slipped through the door. Now what? 

Jaemin didn’t realize your absence until he'd stopped to reply to Renjun's text. 

Renjun - Everything's ready to go, do you need more time?

Jaemin - I've got food to make, but thanks for helping me out. I owe you one.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, quietly sneaking past the bedroom. Jaemin knew you would slip away at some point. You were determined, yes, but when important events are planned out in advance, he knew you physically shut down when they were canceled. Now he had some time to get things ready. He quickly snatched the bags he’d hidden in the back of the fridge, starting on sandwiches and Ramen. 

You had sprawled yourself out on the bed, lazily scrolling through your socials. Your mind was reeling, how would you get Jaemin to go on that picnic? It was so quiet until your ringtone went off. Chaeyoungs’s name popped up on the screen along with a text message.

C - Hey, how’s the picnic?

Y/n - Non-existent right now. Jaemin’s playing games with me at the moment.

C - Is it time to play your hand? I’ll help you out!

Y/n - Yeah, café down the street? 10 minutes?

C - You got it! See you in a bit.

It didn’t take you too long to get dressed, slipping on some comfortable and casual clothes. You tied your hair into a half-assed ponytail and grabbed your wallet and keys off the dresser.

Jaemin had since started on the ramen. To be clear, he got started on the instant ramen. After burning dinner from the week before, the boys hadn’t let up on teasing him. He wasn't ready to waste money on all those ingredients only to burn another meal. On top of that, he thought it would make things a bit easier. But when Jaemin heard the bedroom door open, heard you call his name, he panicked. Any ingredients he had pulled out were hastily shoved in the fridge before you found him in the kitchen. The wrappers and crumbs on the counter weren't cleaned up quick enough. Jaemin stopped dead as you rounded the corner, eyes wide.

"Yes, baby?" 

Your gaze fell from your boyfriend to the messy countertop. "Are you… in the middle of something?" You asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. You noticed the sandwiches sitting on the top shelf, gesturing to the full plate.

"Ah, maybe making lunch for that promised picnic?"

Jaemin peeked into the fridge, eyes landing on the sandwiches he'd made just moments ago. Did he really just shove them there? He quickly grabbed the plate, chuckling to himself. 

"Jeno and Renjun were gonna stop by, so I made them for later." 

You nodded, raising a brow at him and shrugging. "Well, I'm meeting Chaeyoung at the café." You said, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. You turned around and started for the front door, but Jaemin didn't approve of such quick actions, snatching you by the wrist to pull you back. His lips were as soft as his kisses, passionate and delicate all at once. Your plans were almost forgotten as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss to keep you there. You pulled away for air, giggling as Jaemin peppered your face with even more kisses. 

"Are you sure you have to go?" He asked you, rubbing circles into your back. You sighed, checking the time on your phone. 3:27 pm. 

"Listen, as amazing as that kiss was, it doesn't make up for that picnic we had planned!" 

At this point, Jaemin's plan was flopping. He could either let you go out for a few hours and try to get things done or he could just--

"Why don't you take a raincheck on Chaeyoung and we can go on that picnic that I totally didn't promise you." You had to roll your eyes at that. 

"If you would've admitted this promise earlier, we'd be at the park by now." You told him. 

"I'm not admitting anything! I'm just-"

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his. Jaemin seemed taken aback by your actions, slowly falling deeper into the kiss. His brows furrowed in a way that to some, may seem like he was in an intense concentration. He was. He was concentrated on you. On the way your lips moved perfectly with his, the way you leaned into him and pulled him towards you as if you thought you could get closer. He loved the feeling of your lips on his. To him, it was like getting lost in a void. Once he was there, it was hard to leave. Not like he wanted to. You finally pulled away, looking up at him through your lashes. Jaemin hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, but instead tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah… Yeah, it’s coming back to me now.” He breathed, eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Is it now?” You asked, a hint of mockery laced in your voice. Jaemin had finally opened his eyes, looking down at you with that infamous smirk on his lips. You reached behind him to grab one of the ramen packs on the counter.

“We better finish making this lunch then, yeah?”

Both of you got to it, Jaemin finishing up the ramen, and you slicing up some fruit. It didn't take too long to finish packing up all the food and to dash out the door. You sent Chaeyoung a text, letting her know the plan worked. You asked for a rain check anyway, which she agreed to. 

“You got everything?” Jaemin asked, sliding the key into the front door. 

“Yep, let’s get going!” You replied, starting down the side of the street. You and Jaemin had your special spots around town, just for the two of you to spend time together. Most of these locations were found during dates as half of the time, both of you would explore the areas. A few dates ago, you had stumbled upon an old mountainside campsite. The area had grown in over the course of time and as far as you knew, no one had hung around there for years. It was the perfect place to spend time in peace, away from everyone. 

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, enjoying the scenery of the countryside before you stopped at the small forest trail. Jaemin led the way, fingers entwined with yours as you watched for rocks in the dirt path. Which was… a little hard considering the sun was starting to descend in the sky, the trees and brush around you making it look darker than it really was. It didn’t take too long to come to the end of the trail, stepping into the abandoned campsite. What you didn’t expect to see was a blanket already laid out on the forest floor. String lights hung above the small area, twinkling when the breeze whisped through the greenery. The site looked much different since the first time you’d seen it, all thanks to Renjun. Whatever trash was littered about had been picked up, and what weeds had been rapidly growing were cut back to clean up the place. Jaemin really did owe him one!

“You can’t even deny it now cause you’ve really outdone yourself here!” You told him, sitting down on the soft blanket. You kicked off your shoes, laying back to admire the sky. A smile took over Jaemin’s face, watching the way you looked around, laughed and giggled out of pure happiness. God, you were truly beautiful! 

“Jaemin?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, locking eyes with you. You couldn’t help but smile, gesturing to the food you had laid out. 

“You could take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You teased, digging into your very late lunch. Jaemin didn’t even chortle at your remark, too focused on the love of his life across from him. You looked up, stopping mid-munch to stare at him with wide eyes. When he didn't look away, you swallowed your food before speaking.

“Why are you-”

“I don’t need photos of you,” He said, grinning. “I’d rather admire the real thing anyway.” You rolled your eyes at his words, shaking your head in mock disgust. 

“You know, you’re a natural suck up!”  

"Am I? Could I make a career out of it!?" He asked, shooting you a smirk. 

"Oh, I'm sure you could, love."

Jaemin couldn’t help but laugh, sparing one more glance at you before finally digging into his own meal. You enjoyed each other's company, finishing up just as the sun was setting. You placed everything back in the bag and curled up in between Jaemin's legs, admiring the pink and purple hues that painted the sky. 

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked, wrapping his arms around you. You hummed in response, taking his hand in yours. 

"Today has been a perfect day. I'm glad everything happened as it did." You replied, turning to face Jaemin. He glanced down at your hands, rubbing circles into your skin. 

“So am I.” He murmured, pulling you back on the blanket. You snuggled into his side, looking up at the stars that were just starting to twinkle in the sky. It was moments like this that Jaemin wondered how you were his. How could someone so amazing, so beautiful, and so kind be his one and only? He could be watching the stars above, in all their glory, putting on a show for every living being on the planet. Instead, the boy was watching you with such intensity, it was amazing you hadn't noticed yet. He was in his own little world. The world in his mind that held thoughts and memories of you and him, his unconditional love and adoration for you. This little world of his had many ideas of his future. Moving out of this small town, settling down, caring for his own family, traveling the world, experiencing life to the fullest, growing old with his love. 

All of this, with you.

You were his world, his entire universe. You were the one he wanted to experience everything with. From something as small as getting that job you wanted, to seeing the seven wonders of the world, he wanted it. He wanted it with you.

"Earth to Nana!!"

"What?"

You chuckled, propping yourself up with your wrist.

"Whatcha thinking about?" You asked, cocking your head to the side. Jaemin scoffed, grinning at the way your hair framed your face. 

"I'm thinking about how beautiful my girlfriend is," he said, sitting up next to you. "I'm thinking about what we're gonna do tomorrow. If it'll be a stay in bed day or a walk in the park day." You noticed the way he slowly leaned towards you in the same fashion as he had that morning. This time you stayed still, observing the way the string lights played with his eyes in such a way that flecks of gold peeked through. Beautiful, you thought. 

"I'm thinking about spending the rest of my life with the girl who has always been by my side. You can rest assured I'll always be by yours." He whispered, finally closing the small gap between you. You could feel yourself melt into the kiss as Jaemin cupped your face. Everything about this kiss felt different, in the best way of course. It was like jumping into a cold pool, the water both refreshing and jolting to the senses. It was as if both of your souls had merged together in that moment and no one could cast a spell to break them in two again. Because you loved each other truly and deeply, nothing could find it's way between you. And when Jaemin pulled away, whispered those three little words, and rested his forehead on yours, you swore the universe had never felt so aligned.

[the-borhap-boys]

Bruises Fade: chapter four

 Slow Burn Ben!Roger Taylor X OC

Summary: Amelia Mcallen, an old friend of Freddie Mercury’s tries to fit in with his friends while still living her own life. Her only issue. One blond asshole

Warning: Language, mention of abuse

Word count: 4673

Note: sorry it took so long but here’s a nice long chapter and i’ve already started working on the next one!

“I love you no matter what you do,” Louis said as he climbed off the bed he and Millie were curled on and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Love you too,” she murmured, a stiff smile plastered painfully on as she watched him button his shirt and leave the room.

When she heard the door slam behind him, she climbed off the bed gingerly, being careful not to put too much pressure on her right leg. She pulled off her joggers and glanced down at the slowly fading bruise. It had been a few days since he had pushed her into the coffee table and the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been but the bruise was terribly ugly.

She gingerly pressed her fingers into her thigh, a soft groan slipping out as she touched the purple and blue mottled skin. She pulled on a strappy sundress hoping the light fabric would keep her legs from aching any more than they already did. As she placed a few bangles on her wrist she prayed they would distract from the ugly purple fingerprints from where he had yanked her off the floor. At least this time he was mindful of her face and there were no obvious bruises above her chin. The few on her neck she could pass off as hickeys hopefully.

At least these bruises weren’t as bad the ones she had after quitting. She hadn’t been able to leave the house for nearly two weeks for fear someone would know what happened to her. The boys had called her every day checking on her and the lies she had to tell had been almost more painful then the bruises littering her body.  Now she could at least go into the studio and do the job she had been hired to do.

_

As she pulled up to the studio a few hours later, Brian rushed out the door and stopped her from walking inside.

“Hello Love,” he said with a huge smile, wrapping her in a tight hug. She relished in the feeling of security, her cheek pressed tight against his chest, the cotton of his shirt rubbing comfortingly against her face, until he let her go.  “Listen, I know you and Rog aren’t on exactly the best terms but we’re behind schedule and he isn’t answering his phone. Could you run over to his flat and check on him?”

His smile dropped slightly as she sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over her face.

“What is an assistant for,” she groaned before trying to walk back to her car. He scooped her into another hug lifting her off the ground as she squirmed at the pain that ran through her ribs.

“You are an absolute darling,” he said dropping her back to the sidewalk. She stumbled slightly as pain shot through her leg, her jaw clenched tightly, trying to hold back a groan.

As she drove towards his apartment, she muttered to herself, clenching her fists on the wheel tightly.

“Of course, he can’t show up on time to one thing. Honestly, it’s almost two. How drunk did he get last night? That little self-centered prick. Uggh I’m so sick of him”

As she spoke to herself her anger dissipated slightly but she was still prepared to give the little blond shit as she so affectionately called him a piece of her mind.

_

After knocking three times on his door she pulled out the key Freddie had given her a few weeks ago. As she stepped in her nose wrinkled at the dirty dishes and empty liquour bottles scattered across every available surface. Womens clothes were tossed throughout the living room, leading down the hallway, showing evidence of whatever happened the night before.

She stepped into the hallway and was met with a leggy brunette clad in a pair of boxers and a button down shirt stepping out of Rogers room. The two girls stared each other down for a moment before the brunette began stumbling towards Millie angrily. “Who are you and what are you doing in Roger’s flat?” the girl hissed.

“I’m the girlfriend of the boy you slept with last night,” Millie lied. She stared into the girls face expressionlessly, her arms crossed over her chest as the other girls jaw dropped.

“That bastard! Boys are the worst! He didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend,” she cried, yanking Millie off her feet and into a hug. The putrid scent of vomit and day old alcohol invaded Millie’s nose before she pushed the girl back gently. “I’m so sorry! I really am,”

“Don’t worry about it,” Millie mumbled, shaking her head and steadying the taller girl gently. As she helped the girl gather her clothes which were spread all across the living room she continued berating Roger inside her own mind and letting out little huffs of anger.

As the door slammed behind the girl, Millie filled a glass with water and grabbed some pain killers before stepping into Roger’s room. He laid on the bed shirtless, eyes open, smirking at her, his hair splayed in a halo around his head.

“So, girlfriend?”

“I just wanted her to get out without having to deal with whining,” she grumbled slamming the cup on his bedside table and thrusting the pills into his hand. A few droplets of water splashed onto his chest and goosepimples arose across his skin. He sat up, resting on his elbows. “Take your medicine. You were supposed to be at the studio an hour ago,”

He stared after her as she stormed out of the room and back into the kitchen. His arms flopped back onto the pillows surrounding him as he fell backwards, closing his eyes for a few moments.

After putting the kettle on the stove, she plopped onto a chair at the kitchen table. Her head rested in her hands and her feet drummed the floor impatiently. When he stepped into the kitchen, he leaned against the door frame, watching her for a moment. The sun shone through the open window onto her face, hitting her eyelashes so they left tiny shadows across her freckled cheeks.

“Are you pissed at me?” he questioned softly.

She turned quickly to look at him in surprise. The bags under his eyes showed evidence of little sleep the past couple nights and his hands barely peeked out of the sleeves of the sweatshirt he had tugged on. She rolled her eyes at his pitiful expression and stood up to get two mugs.

“No, I’m not pissed.” She sighed. “But that doesn’t mean the boys aren’t,”

“Fuck em. You are mad.” He stepped forwards and leaned his back against the counter, staring at her quizzically. “Why are you always mad at me?”

She felt his eyes boring into her back and couldn’t face him. Her hands clasped the edge of the stove as she stared down at the kettle. Her head seemed to whirl as she tried to respond.

“I’m just said I’m not mad at you,”

“prove it,”

She turned around, mimicking his position on the opposite counter.

“How do I prove I’m not mad?”

He stepped forwards slowly and grabbing her hands in his. “Have a full conversation with me,”

The callouses on his palm scratched against her smooth skin and she yanked back roughly, bumping her elbow against the hot kettle. She jumped forwards slamming into his chest and cradling her elbow.

“shit! Did you burn yourself? ’m sorry!” he hissed, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to the sink. He turned on the faucet and she quickly stuck her arm under the running water, her teeth clenched in pain.

“I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to! Shit shit! I’m so sorry Millie!” he babbled on and on.

“Just shut up for two seconds,” she said calmly. The pain from the burn was slowly fading but his crowding over her was not helping her.

He stepped back and watched carefully as she took a deep breath.  Her eyes closed for a moment and her fists unclenched.

“Why are you like this?” she questioned, taking her arm out from under the faucet and turning to face him, her hand cradling her elbow

“Like what?”

“One second you’re an asshole and you’re trashing me to any person you can and the next you’re all soft and flirty. It’s confusing and I hate it.” She stated emotionlessly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Either be my friend or be an asshole. You don’t get to be both,”

He blinked a few times and his breath caught in his throat as he tried to think of a response. She watched him quizzically, her head cocked to one side as he stumbled over his words.

“I tried to be your friend but I fucked that up so I don’t know what to do around you. You get so pissed with me and then you’re so sweet with Brian and John and I just wa-“

“You’re jealous?” she questioned a smirk playing on her lips.

“No! I just want you to like me and I don’t know how to make you like me,”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes before throwing her hands in the air.

“You could start by not trash talking me to all your little leggy friends who come prancing through the studio,” she grumbled bitterly.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Oh yes I’m so jealous!” she threw her head back, laughing exaggeratedly. Her brunette curls bounced around her face and he couldn’t seem to rip his eyes away from the way they brushed against the hickeys on her neck “I wish I could come out of your room in your dirty boxers and sweaty shirt. The epitome of romance,”

He chuckled leaning back against the counter. They were both grateful for the easy banter instead of ripping each others throats out.

“Alright, alright. Neither of us is jealous. I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole. Can we be friends and put all the childish fights behind us?”

The kettle began to whistle and she reached to take it off the stove. As she poured the steaming water into the mugs her dress rode up her thighs. His eyes traveled up her leg to the creamy skin just below the hem of her dress and he couldn’t seem to tear himself away.

She passed him a mug of tea, tearing him out of his thoughts.

“I forgive you,” she smiled softly, her fingers wrapping tightly around the mug. “Now do you want something to eat before we go to the studio?”

“Are you going to make me something?” he smirked, his fingers reaching up to fiddle with the strings of his sweatshirt. “You going to put on a little maid costume and everything?”

“I was but just for that I’m not,” she said with a sly smile, placing the mug on the counter before striding out of the kitchen. His face broke into a wide smile and he wrapped his arms around her waist swinging her around to face him.

“Come on Millie,” he whined. “I’m starving and I’m just far too dumb to know how to cook,”

She flicked his forehead and pushed off his chest, spinning around so her dress flared out around her.

“Fine, you spoiled brat, what do you want?”

“First, I would like you to apologize for calling me spoiled because I am not,” he said, yanking one of her curls. She glanced back at him in shock before quirking an eyebrow

“Oh really? Then what is it called when you get whatever you want because you whine?”

He threw his head back in shock and placed his hand on his chest. “Excuse you, I do not whine,”

She pinched the bridge of her nose in faux exasperation and glanced over her shoulder at him. He had stepped a bit closer and a few tendrils of his hair were brushing against her bare shoulder. Their noses were nearly touching and she had to turn around abruptly so they didn’t bump into each other.

“I’ll make you some toast, Roger,”

“That is Mister Taylor to you and I did not ask for toast. I would like some-“ he mused, tapping his finger against his lips.

“Want to know something?” she asked with a mock serious expression. “I don’t care what you want, you’ll eat what I give you or you’ll starve,”

They continued teasing each other as he ate his toast and packed his things. When they finally climbed into her car, he reclined the passenger seat back and crossed his arms over his chest, placing his feet on the dash.

“Hey, hey, hey! Get your feet down!” she squealed, batting at his ankles.

He shifted his legs over slightly and raised his eyebrows. “Make me,” His fingers tapped a beat against his arm as he watched her for a reaction.

“Roger! Get your feet off my dash! Feet are gross!” she whined, trying to make him bend his knees.

He laughed at her pathetic attempts and stretched out even further before shifting to put his feet in her lap. “Are these feet gross?”

She pinched the tops of his ankles making him wince and kick his heels against the top of her thighs.

“Roger Taylor! Get your nasty, sweaty feet off my legs this instant!”

“Ooh, you pulled out the last name,” he chuckled, rubbing his heels harder against her thighs.

One heel brushed against her bruise and she hissed in pain and shoved one leg off. His leg hung awkwardly over the console as he stared at her in confusion. They both sat in uncomfortable silence for a few long seconds.

“sorry,” she mumbled halfheartedly. “I don’t like feet,”

He pulled both his legs back onto his side of the console and tapped his fingers anxiously against his jeans. “yeah, I figured,”

The rest of the ride to the studio was filled with tense silence. His fingers tapped a continuous beat against his leg and hers were clenched tightly on the wheel as she never took her eyes off the road, afraid to look over at him.

When they pulled up Roger grabbed Millie’s arm before she could open the door. She glanced down at his fingers clenched tightly on her forearm before looking at his face, her eyebrows pinched together nervously.

“I’m sorry if I upset you. I really didn’t realize my teasing would hurt you,” a light blush covered his cheeks and neck as he ducked his head, his hair shielding his face.

“Is the great Roger Taylor apologizing to little ole me?” she asked with a smirk.

He lifted his head quickly at her teasing, furrowing his brows.

“Hey, I’m pouring my heart and soul out here and you’re making fun of me. How is that fair.”

“all’s fair in love and war baby” she said, patting his cheek and hopping out of the car. She straightened her skirt and flipped her hair over her shoulder confidently before walking towards the front door.

He stared after her as she sauntered into the studio, her dress swaying back in forth in time with her hips.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” he whispered to himself.

_

A few weeks later the band was back in the studio, Millie alongside them like usual. She was stretched out in her usual spot on the floor, reviewing a few show contracts as Brian recorded the guitar for Seven Seas of Rhye. Roger was flopped in a chair by her head, nudging her every so often with his foot, trying to tease a reaction out of her. Deaky was on the couch dozing off as Freddie hunched over the control panel, correcting Brian over and over.

“I have no inspiration here,” Freddie finally groaned turning around and stretching his arms towards Millie. She glanced up from where she had been nodding off on the floor and placed her hands in his letting him pull her to her feet. “We should go on a picnic,”

“Fred, we have a gig tonight and we need to finish this song,” Brian piped up as he stepped into the control room.

Millie nodded as she let go of Freddies hands and gathered her papers off the floor.

“But if we get out of this stuffy studio we would be inspired and could finish this song,” Freddie whined

“He’s right,” John chimed in, pointing towards Freddie.

“Yeah, I agree with Fred,” Roger said, standing up and stretching slowly.

“You only agree with him cause you’re pissed at me,” Brian grumbled, placing the red special down and rifling his fingers through his curls angrily.

“That’s not true. I agree with him beca-“

“Because you’re mad at Brian,” Millie mumbled, her back turned to them as she continued cleaning up her papers.

“Oi! You shut your mouth or I’m going to stick one of these in your ear,” Roger threatened, waving a single drumstick around.

“Do it, I dare you,” Millie said calmly, turning back around and arching an eyebrow.

Roger surged towards her playfully and she shrieked, jumping behind Brian and grabbing his shoulders as protection. He rolled his eyes but let her use him as a shield against the blond.

“if this tree wasn’t in the way you know I would,” Roger snarled, gesturing towards Brian.

“Come at me Blondie!” Millie giggled, jumping out from behind Brian and lunging towards Roger. He wrapped his arms around her torso, spinning her around. Her feet grazed the floor and she threw her head back on his shoulder as she laughed. Her curls tickled against his neck and her hands were clenched tightly over his, pressed against her tummy.

“Put me down you big lug,” she giggled, batting at his hands.

“You attacked me first,” he accused, setting her gently down and steadying her as she stumbled.

“You threatened me first,”

“Alright children, calm down,” Freddie said placing his hands on their shoulders. “What do you say Millie? Shall we go have a picnic? I can invite Mary so it isn’t only a boys club,”

“I think that would be lovely,”

The boys packed up their things and Freddie called Mary, asking her if she would bring some lunch for everyone. They all piled in Roger’s van in a tangle of sweaty limbs, loud music and laughter. When they pulled up Millie was the first out of the car. She was racing across the grass towards the waters edge before Roger had even put the van in park.

“That child is going to get herself killed,” Brian muttered as they all stared after her fondly.

The men followed behind her slowly, finding a spot on the grass and settling down to wait for Mary and their lunches. Freddie stretched out, arms behind his head, basking in the sun as Brian leaned against a tree, reading, his long legs crossed with his elbows resting on his knees. John and Roger decided to take a walk through the park, discussing the gig that night.

When Millie came skipping back over to Freddie and Brian her face was flushed and her curls were windblown. She plopped down on the grass beside Brian, watching his face as he read. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the way he would mouth the words every now and then or how his eyebrows furrowed when he got to an interesting paragraph. She bit her lips gently as she stared into his face.

“Like what you see, Love?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off the book but surprising her from her reverie.

She glanced down at her jeans and began picking at the fraying hem. “Sorry, you just seemed so interested. What are you reading?”

He placed the book in his lap and gave her his full attention. “Death On the Nile, Agatha Christie.” Millie gasped excitedly snatching his hand up. “Isn’t she so talented? I wish I could write the way she does!”

Brian cocked his head to the side slightly as she spoke. “Since when do you write?”

A faint blush covered her cheeks and ears as she dropped his hand slowly. “Oh…. It’s just a hobby. I’m not very good.”

“well I guess I’ll have to read some for myself,” he said with a shrug, placing a bookmark between the pages and closing the book.

“No really it’s not good at all. Its just for fun.”

“I will expect some of your writing the next time I see you, Miss Mcallen,” he said mocking seriousness, grabbing her hands in his.

She shrugged and squinted her eyes. “I’m very sorry Mr May, you will be sorely disappointed.”

He shook his head as he laughed, making his curls bounce wildly.

“Millie! I’m here!” Mary’s voice rang across the grass and Millie whirled around wildly before leaping to her feet and sprinting towards her friend.

Mary opened her arms wide, bags in either hand and Millie ran straight into her, wrapping her own arms around the blonde’s middle. The girls fell to the ground giggling, in a tangle of limbs and bags of food.

“Someone rescue the food, please!” Roger yelled as he watched the fiasco from afar.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Millie gushed, standing up and brushing off her jeans, before gathering up one of the bags.

“I know! Freddie invites me to recording sessions but I’m just so busy at Biba now.” Mary said as the girls began to walk over to where the boys were lolled out. “I’ve been trying to pick up a few extra shifts here and there. Fred wants to move in together but we’d have to get a new apartment and he isn’t really making much at the moment,”

Millie could tell from the tone in her voice this wasn’t berating Freddie, she was just worried about her boyfriend and how they were going to survive.

“It’s Freddie, he’ll figure out someway to make it work,”

“What will I make work darling?” Freddie questioned as he sat up. The girls glanced at each other suspiciously before looking back at him.

“It’s nothing dearest. Just girl things,” she said sweetly, patting his cheek before she began to lay out a picnic blanket.

“Sex, they were talking about sex. Mary was definitely telling Mils what a great shag Fred is,” Roger stated matter of factly from where he was seated beside John.

Mary’s face burned bright pink as her eyes widened. She tried to ignore his crude joke and began setting out the sandwiches she had made. John snickered and Brian rolled his eyes as Freddie smirked.

“How would you know about Freddie’s shagging skills unless you had experienced them Rog?” Millie countered quickly, resting her chin in her hands.

“Maybe I have,”

Millie threw her head back in an over exaggerated laugh before staring him dead in the eyes. “Freddie has higher standards than you,”

Brian choked on the sip of beer he had taken and John smacked him on the back as his own smile crept on his face at Millie’s comeback.

“Alright darlings, can we stop talking about my magnificent shagging skills and eat the delicious sandwiches Mary made us,” Freddie interrupted, wrapping his arms around Mary’s waist and pulling her into his lap.

She giggled softly, kissing his cheek as he whispered in her ear.

“Yes, we can eat. If you two can stop being so bloody cute and making us all want to vomit,” Roger groaned, reaching for a sandwich. Millie grabbed two sandwiches and settled in beside Brian.

After finishing their lunches all six of them stretched across the grass staring into the blue sky, pointing out clouds. They were quite the motley crew. Mary and Freddie were intertwined in each others arms and Millie couldn’t help but feel jealous. She rested her head against Brian’s chest and his fingers carded through her curls gently, lulling her almost to sleep.

It was comforting to have someone be so gentle with her even if it was just a friend.

Roger kept glancing over at her and how her hand rested on Brian’s stomach, playing absentmindedly with the button of his silk shirt. A hot burning grew in the pit of his stomach every time Brian would make a stupid joke and she would burst into a fit of giggles.

“That one looks like a dick,” Roger chuckled pointing towards one cloud.

“You say every one looks like a dick,” Millie groaned, before whispering something to Brian. He snorted and whispered something back before glancing over at Roger.

“You’re right, he can be a bit -,” Brian mumbled the rest against Millie’s ear.

She giggled loudly and smacked his chest lightly. “Don’t say that,”

The fire in Roger’s chest grew hotter and hotter and it seemed to be creeping up his throat. His jaw clenched tightly as he sat up and glared at them, even as they continued staring into the cloudy sky obliviously.

“Could your laugh be any more annoying, Millie,” he growled.

She sat up quickly and stared at him with huge eyes. The pain in her face was obvious and everyone grew silent as she blinked slowly. She tore at the dry skin on her lips as she continued staring at him with those doe eyes. Before she could say anything, he jumped up and stormed away.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Brian asked softly, his hand rubbing against her back softly.

“No, it’s fine. Just leave him be,”

She settled back on Brian’s chest and his fingers tangled in her hair gently tugging and playing until she closed her eyes and sighed softly. They could hear Roger muttering to himself as he kicked at clods of dirt and bushes as he began to walk to the van.

“He’s going to leave without us,” John muttered as he began picking up trash and folding the picnic blanket.

“Damn him,” Freddie growled, pulling Mary closer, kissing along her neck. “Why must that bloody git ruin our lovely day?”

Millie sat up, blinking in the sun, her skin felt warm and a smile played blissfully on her face as she attempted to forget Rogers comment.

As they walked to the car, Brian’s arm looped lazily over Millie’s shoulders, his hand playing with the collar of her shirt. They all bid their goodbyes to Mary and piled back into the van. Roger sat in the driver seat, face sullen as one arm dangled out the open window, a cigarette balanced between two fingers.

Millie tried to ignore the pouty blond and continued laughing and teasing Brian and John as Freddie climbed in the passenger seat.

“Doesn’t all this hair get hot?” she questioned, flicking gently at Brians curls.

He batted her hands away, rolling his eyes. “I have no more hair than you do, just because mine looks better is no reason to be spiteful,”

“Since when is looking like an ungroomed poodle a good look?” she raised her eyebrows, shrugging with a slight smirk.

Brian wrinkled his nose and poked at her side, forcing her to squirm into John on the other side. He snickered at their antics.

“Well you look like a-“

“Goddess?” she supplied quickly.

“I was going to say-“ “I’m sure whatever you were going to say wasn’t too important,” she interrupted again, raising her eyebrows and smiling at him innocently.

“She’s probably right,” john jumped in.

Their giggles and jibes faded in Rogers head as he glared at the road ahead of him, clenching the wheel tightly in one fist. Her tear filled eyes were plastered in his brain and he couldn’t seem to get them out no matter what he did. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to produce those tears, he was supposed to wipe them away.

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[bechobbi]

Fortune favours the bold - SamDrake x Reader - (Chapter 3)

A/N: I’ll never thank enough @sw33t-but-psycho for helping me! Thank you fam! :) 

Enjoy it guys!

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Scrapes and bruises littered your body, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. As the soapy, warm water engulfed your figure, you began to relax and collect your thoughts.

You’re safe... at least, for the time being. You’re terrified to think of what might happen when you leave this room. Your mind drifted back to all the happy memories you experienced and you smiled weakly. Revisiting the dreadful memory that took place afterwards was inevitable. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you relived the most difficult times of your life.

You wiped the tears from your eyes and let out a soft exhale. That stranger you encountered somehow opened your eyes and gave you hope. He seemed trustworthy and kind, but could you learn to trust again? You weren’t entirely certain. But for now, the only thing you needed to do was to find the necessary courage and strength to face him again.

After your bath, Sam helped you disinfect some cuts on your arms and face. You acquired them in a struggle to protect yourself - to defend your integrity.

This was what you wanted the man in front of you to believe. After all, he was just stranger you would never cross paths with again. To put it simply, when you have recovered you would have to leave Sam to return to your arduous journey once again.

Nobody really had your back in the real world. It’s always been just you working your butt off trying so hard to make ends meet day after day. The long journey put your survival skills to the test. Up until now, you have been travelling high and low to return to the place you once called home. With very little money and food, you’re surprised you even made it this far. And it had been really hard. It seemed like the whole world wanted to see you suffer, but instead you only grew stronger. You developed a lust for life you had never felt before and manipulation happened to be your area of expertise. Whenever an opportunity arose for you to put your skills to use you never declined. Hurting people had never been your intention, so you used your words to get what you wanted.

Up until this point, your life had been a continuous obstacle course and you did not have the time to dedicate to the life you always wanted.

The only people who ever truly loved you, were your parents. But after their unfortunate passings, your relatives did everything they could to cut you out and claim your parents’ estate. And they eventually succeeded.

If eliminating your mom and dad had been easy, you certainly weren’t viewed as a threat.

You were hungry for revenge, as it was the only thing that fueled you each and every morning. All you wanted to do was to avenge your family name after your so called “family” walked all over it.

Revisiting your thoughts about your revenge filled you to the brim with anger and resentment.

"There you go," Sam murmured under his breath as he carefully placed the last bandage on your forehead. "Good as new!"

"Thank you,” you lifted your face to meet his soft gaze. “I apologize for being such a bother,” you averted your eyes.

"No worries! Really! I enjoyed your company.” Sam shrugged with a grin and added, “I had nothing better to do, I guess you could say.”

You looked up to meet his twinkling, hazel eyes. Upon meeting his steady gaze, a  strange but familiar feeling set into your soul. You felt a sense of protection that you had not felt in years.

Sam gave you a small pat on the back, breaking the intense moment the two of you shared. “Whaddaya say we grab a bite to eat? I'm starving.”

You agreed with a nod, “I wouldn’t mind some food right about now.”

"Preach it, Sister,” Sam joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “What would like to eat?"

You giggled, "Whatever is fine with me.”

"Alright. There’s this place nearby that makes the BEST sandwiches. Stay put ‘till I come back, and... take a nap, you could really use one,” the man spoke before heading out the door.

Just outside the door, Sam began to grow angry. He couldn’t help it- he was hosting a stranger who had suffered extreme violence few hours earlier.

Moreover, the person who Sam would have liked to meet had decided not to show up yet again.

It had been months since last time he had heard from the woman he had loved so intensely that he still had reoccuring dreams about her.

"Why?" was the usual question he asked himself. It didn’t make very much sense. A wise person once told him that if you love something, you should let it go. If it returns to you, then it was meant to be. But if not, then maybe letting them go was the right thing to do. But in his case, he was still waiting.

Sam shoved his hands in pockets and continued his trek to the nearest 24-hour market. Along the motel driveway, he noticed that there were no lights, and darkness enveloped everything within the perimeter.

He was alone, but that wasn’t the worst part. It was the fact was that he was alone with his thoughts and fears that sucked. The darkness seemed to envelope him completely and has recently become extremely difficult to ignore. It caused Sam to feel uncomfortable.

Technically he had endured worse things, like Panama, for example. The excruciating pain of three bullets wedged in his body, and the mental trauma in which he and Nathan endured were enough to scar him as a kid.

Sam reluctantly pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind as soon as the market sign appeared just across the street.

He ordered as quickly as possible because he didn't want to leave you on your own for too long. Besides the sandwiches, he grabbed a sturdy bottle of hard liquor, as well as a bottle of water and a couple of chocolate bars in an effort to cheer you up.

Once he retrieved the long awaited sandwiches, he swiftly made his way to the cash register to pay for his groceries.

The cashier was a hot blonde chick that was chewing gum noisily and if it wasn't for that annoying detail, Sam would have probably flirted with her.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Forty dollars and sixty nine cents, babe,” she flashed a flirty grin Sam’s way and twirled a strand of her golden hair around her finger.

As Sam searched for the change, the woman placed her elbows on the countertop and leaned forward. She pushed her arms closer together, causing her breasts to spill from her top. "Sixty nine is my favorite number," she commented, pursing her lips.

Sam’s growing bulge twitched as he watched the attractive blonde in front of him, accidentally knocking the sandwiches fell to the floor. He ran his hand through his well coiffed hair with a smirk and turned to face her. “Mine too,” he winked.

He picked up his fallen items off of the ground and left in a hasty manner. Fuck, either I still have effect on women or that chick was REALLY horny. Sam thought to himself as he lit a cigarette and walked back to the motel.

When the motel came into view, Sam disposed of his cigarette and searched for a trash can like all good people do.

He spotted one to the right of him and as soon as he lifted the lid, something caught his attention. Inside there was a backpack. Sam’s curiosity got the best of him which caused him to instinctively reach his arm out and grab it.

Sam opened it carefully and peeked inside. There were clothes, some books and a notebook with a bold sticker on the front cover.

A name was written on it: Y/F/N Y/L/N.

It was your diary.

He frowned, feeling uneasy. With a sigh, he opened the journal and flipped through the pages.

"...what?!" he gasped.

“I can’t believe this”, Sam angrily shoved the journal into the bag. How could she have taken advantage of his kindness? If there was one thing Sam Drake could not stand, it was was being mistaken for a fool.

At least not in that precise moment of his life.

He then hit the road back to the motel.

[lanxborealiss]

I love your erasermic drabbles! Can you write something for young erasermic when they started becoming closer friends,etc??

Aw, thank you so much anon :D I’m glad you’re enjoying them! And yes I can! Hm, if I start writing more of these, I think I’ll put them into a collection on AO3 as I have done other ships? It’s an idea ^^

“Dang, why is there never a free table?” Yamada groaned, shaking his head. With his English class being not just right before lunch, but also on the other side of UA, he always got to the cafeteria late. 

Then, from there, he had to stand in line, which wasn’t too bad till he turned around to hunt out a place to sit. 

Already, each and every table he passed seemed to be filled with students. Laughter and chatter floated up, ringing in his ears. As Yamada passed by table after table, he caught both snippets of conversation as well as sheepish and apologetic grins. 

More than once, Yamada stopped to try and sit next to the many friends he had, only to run into the issue of simply not having enough space for him to take a seat.

In one case, there wasn’t even enough space on the table to set his tray down! 

“This is stupid,” Yamada muttered to himself as he stood in the middle of the cafeteria. His cheeks grew hot as he noticed, from the corners of his eyes, other students staring at him. 

He must have looked pretty dumb standing in the middle of the cafeteria. 

“Hey, Yamada!” the familiar voice of Nemuri called out. His usual table had been taken up by students that usually floated around the rim of his friend group. Of course, no one, not even Nemuri, had the gall to kick them out of their seats, which had left Yamada with a tight smile as he took his leave from his favorite table. 

Yamada whipped around at the sound of his name, however, a bit of hope shining in his eyes. Perhaps someone had left early?

But no, the table remained packed like a can of sardines. 

Nemuri, however, was waving him over, her sharp blue eyes glinting.

That familiar glint filled Yamada with uncertainty, but nevertheless, with the use of his quirk, he called out, “what?” 

“There’s tables outside! So don’t just stand there! Go eat!” 

Yamada nearly laughed as he shook his head and hightailed it out of the cafeteria. Of course! UA had just installed tables outside for students to eat lunch while soaking up the sun. 

Bursting out under the cloud-covered sky, Yamada sucked in a mouthful of fresh air as he stared out at the tables set up outside. A slab of concrete marked where they were allowed to eat, with stairs leading down into the grass, connecting to the curving sidewalks around the school. Although many tables were filled outside, and some students even sat at the stairs to eat their lunch, there was still room left for him. Yamada had to admit lunch outside with the fresh breeze ruffling his golden hair was more appealing than being stuck inside like packaged meat. 

Nodding to a few classmates he recognized, Yamada scanned the area for a perfect place to sit. He didn’t want his trash to be blown away; he was in no mood for chasing after litter. At the same time, although he vaguely recognized many faces around him, he had no desire to barge in on private conversation either. 

Just before Yamada decided to resign to his fate of eating alone on the stairs, the sight of a lone student sitting at the table closest to the wall caught in his peripherals. 

That familiar tangled black mane of hair brought a grin to Yamada’s face and added a pep to his step. Prancing over to the lone student, Yamada dropped his tray on the table with a clang.

“Aizawa! I didn’t know you liked sitting outside during lunch!” Yamada said as he collapsed across him. 

Aizawa tore his eyes from what Yamada recognized as his English textbook to stare at him. Meeting his eyes without a care in the world, Yamada gave Aizawa a little wave. “How’s it going?”

Aizawa continued to stare at him for several seconds. “Oh yeah. You’re Yamada. The loud one.”

Yamada blinked at the comment, then burst into boisterous laughter. A few heads turned in his direction, curiosity painting faces, but Yamada paid them no attention. He was used to being stared at when it came to his laughter. 

With a twitched of his nose, Aizawa clamped his hands over his ears. “You’re louder up close.”

Yamada struggled to smother his laughter. “I get that a lot.”

“Well, I don’t need loud right now. I’m busy. So if you want to sit here, you have to agree to be quiet,” Aizawa bit out. His eyes, burning with irritation, cut from Yamada back down to his textbook. 

A small frown fell upon Yamada, but he bit his tongue and focused on scarfing down his food for several minutes. At the sound of his loud chewing, Aizawa’s left eye twitched, but his gaze remained firmly on his textbook.

Yamada couldn’t help but stare at his classmate. Aizawa, despite always sitting at the front, almost never answered questions unless called on by the teacher. Yet, Yamada knew Aizawa was also a top student at UA; which was quite a feat for someone who transferred into the hero department. 

Tilting his head to the side, Yamada took a second to admire how silky Aizawa’s black hair looked and the way his tie was a little askew, his clothes not quite ironed out as they hung from his frame. 

His cheeks heated up at the direction his thoughts were going. Before he could divert his gaze away, Aizawa’s eyes rose up to meet his yet again. 

“What do you want?” 

Yamada blinked once, then twice. “Huh? Want?”

“You keep staring at me. If you’re going to say something, then spit it out.” Aizawa remained unblinking as his eyes never left Yamada’s.

Yamada’s blush crawled down his neck and he shifted in his seat, suddenly hot under the collar. His eyes dropped down to Aizawa’s textbook.

“It’s just, I, uh, you….” Yamada shook his head. Since when has he ever been so tongue-tied? Steeling himself, Yamada furrowed his brows. His eyes darted back up to Aizawa’s. 

“You look like your struggling with English. Do you need some help?”

Much to Yamada’s surprise, pink dusted Aizawa’s cheeks. His hunched shoulders dropped as he seemed to crumple into his text. 

Fighting back a grin, Yamada leaned across the table, glancing down at the page Aizawa had been reading since he stepped outside. 

“Having issues with some of the spellings?” Yamada continued. 

For a second, Yamada thought Aizawa would just close his book, stand up, and stride away. Yet instead, a long sighed escaped the student across from him. 

“Something like that. This damn language makes no sense.”

Yamada couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. He caught another glare from Aizawa at the noise. This time, however, less people turned to give him a curious look.

“I agree! But it’s not too hard once you start memorizing everything. Here–” Reaching down, Yamada pulled several note cards from his school bag. “Instead of just staring, use these. It’s also good practice when it comes to speaking it too. See? I wrote down a pronunciation guide too.” He held them out for Aizawa to take. 

Aizawa stared at Yamada, not accepting the note cards from him. “But don’t you need those to study with?”

“Nah! I think you’d get more use out of them than me. Besides, I can always make you more. Hey, you doing anything after school?” Yamada placed his note cards down on Aizawa’s textbook.

Aizawa looked away. “…Nothing, actually. Studying.” 

“Same!” Yamada bounced back into his seat. “How about we study together? I bet it’ll be more fun that way too.”

“Studying in pairs also means it’s more easy to get distracted.”

“I’m sure with you on the case, neither of us will get distracted. So… whaddya say? Huh?” Despite his wide smile, uncertainty bubbled inside Yamada. For another second, he figured Aizawa to turn down his offer, return the cards, and leave for real this time.

But instead, Aizawa shut his textbook closed, trapping his note cards inside. With something akin to a smirk nearly pulling at the corner of his lips, he leaned forward. “Fine. But remember to be quiet in the library.” 

“I’m always quite in the library!”

Aizawa cocked a brow, and a spark of amusement gleamed in his eyes. “That’s not what I heard.” 

Yamada flushed again. “Well, I guess now I just have to prove you wrong, don’t I?”

Aizawa’s small snicker flushed Yamada’s cheeks. His sharp grin nearly matched the intensity of Yamada’s.

“Bring it on.”