#i know i sound like such a dramatic teenager but i AM a dramatic teenager!

[pilotstreets]

god. not to be sad online. but im sad online

[gaystardykeco]

not ready to go back to work tomorrow but luckily im so not ready that my brain isn't letting it fully process and so im just kind of numb except for little moments when the panic breaks through again

[creachercrunch]

wait sorry give me a second in the tags

[terrestrialnoob]

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[shit-talker]

The 141 have a ridiculous run of inside jokes that is continuosly ruining their lives, such as;

1.) If someone says, "You love it really," to you, you immediately have to agree with them, no matter what the circumstances. Otherwise, you lose the ability to do it back. This has resulted in many weird fake confessions, including one time in which Soap got fed up with people making your mom jokes at him and went on a rant about it. Ghost glanced at him in front of a room full of cadets and just went, "You love it really, though," and Soap almost died as he sadly nodded and replied, "Yeah, I do."

2.) If something even remotely sexual sounding is said about you, you must always say, "You're damn right I do/am/will," back. This backfired once when they were in a defreif and Price said something about Gaz "coming through the back door" and Gaz, without think, winked and replied "You're damn right I did," In front of everyone and got in trouble for mild insubordination. (The others almost died laughing as he realised what he'd done, who he'd done it to, and who he'd done it in front of (aka Price's bosses))

3.) When talking about Roach, they will always act like he's died. He hasn't, but none of them can stop the joke, and it always makes all of them crack up, even Roach. This once caused major panic, as once when Ghost was discussing their latest mission with Laswell, he said, "It was fine because Roach - God rest his soul -" and Laswell had about two minutes where she thinks Roach has dropped dead and she didn't fucking know.

4.) They will always make up bad stories for how they met Ghost, if anyone ever asks. It doesn't matter what the truth is, or who they're speaking to, when asked, all three of them will reply with some made up, overly dramatic or down right boring story on how they met. These stories ranged from Ghost, saving them from a shark attack (Gaz), Ghost selling them assorted drugs as a teenager (Roach), and most devastatingly is when Soap told a distant relative of his that he met Ghost after "finding him with my older brother, behind his wifes back" he does not have an older brother, and so there is no wife.

5.) They always reference the "Malibu incident." None of them have ever been to Malibu. Nothing bad has ever happened there, but now they've created a whole conspiracy in the British Army about a coverup that happened in Malibu. Price knows about this one and finds it endlessly funny, so he goes along with it, never directly mentioning it but refusing to deny it when someone asks. If anyone ever asks about the details of it, they just give a deadpanned look as if the other person should already know and say; "Don't make me say it." There are rumours. Like, a lot of rumours.

6.) Roach claps every time someone says, "I'll be there for you" because once he clapped at the wrong time during the friends intro and had been paying the price ever since. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes you'll just hear him clapping - not even in the tune to the friends theme. Just random clapping. If any of the others hear it, they almost always reply with "That's a fuckin' joke" in a really disappointed tone. It's confused a lot of people.

[justtwotired]

“Back the fuck off.”

Summary: you and Regulus recently broke up over stupid teenage reasons. It was a really bad fight and you two haven't spoken since, though both regret your actions. At a Gryffindor house party, he spots you kissing Mathew smith, the Gryffindor seeker, who Regulus absolutely despises.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: swearing, kissing, fighting, a bit of sexual assault.

⬇️unamused⬇️

Regulus stands at the drinks table with Barty as they are being pure Slytherins looking around with judging and cold looks. Neither of them wanted to come to said party, but Evan -who was currently participating in a round of beer pong- insisted they went.

His eyes travel the crowd and he spots them, making him narrow his eyes. He knew she was doing it to spite him, he knew even she hated Smith, but there she was, sticking her tongue down his throat.

"Ohh, she is playing with fire." Barty seemed to start enjoying the party the moment he followed Regulus gaze. "Shut the hell up." Regulus head snapped towards him and then his eyes traveled back to the girl and that stupid idiot she was kissing.

His hands where slowly starting to roam under her clothes and that's when he couldn't take it anymore and pushed himself of the table making his way towards them.

- 15 minutes earlier -

"They are absolute morons." Y/n shook her head as she watched Sirius and James jump of the table they'd just been dancing on. "Tell me about it." Remus rolled his eyes.

She took a sip of her drink as she watched the boys make their way over to them. "Oh, their coming pretend you don't know them." Peter said and they all quickly avoided eye contact with the two boys. "Oh haha, you're so funny." Sirius said sarcastically.

His eyes fell on Y/n and they narrowed. "Boring again, I see." He said as he eyed the glass with clear liquid in her hands. "But thinking about it, I could use some water," he took it out of her hands and a horrified expression formed on her face.

"Sirius no wait-" but she was to late and he took a sip and moments later spit it out, coughing. "Y/n, you absolutely menace to society." He said handing the glass back to her.

"Are you alright, pads?" James asked laughing. "I am, but she isn't, what psychopath just casually sips straight vodka." He grimaces and James' eyebrows race.

"What? It's good, you're all just over dramatic." She said taking another sip, making Peter chuckle a bit, as he himself had made that same mistake before.

They all looked up at the sound of the portrait swinging open and watched an excited Evan and annoyed Barty and Regulus walk into the common room.

Y/n rolled her eyes, and then they landed on someone and a smirk formed onto her face. "Y/n, no." Remus said and she looked at him. "What do you mean no?" She asked.

"Regulus just walked in and your wearing that smirk? Whatever your planning, no." He said and she rolled her eyes and giggled. "It's just a bit of fun." She said, standing up to leave the couch and pushing the glass into Sirius' hands.

"Here, you can have that." She says and he looks at it in disgust. "No thanks." And puts it down.

"Smith, hey." She greats the seeker and he turned to her. "Y/n, looking ravishing as always." He said with a shit eating grin as he looked her up and down and stopped at her chest.

She would slap him in the face if it wasn't for her plan just unfolding:

Make Regulus as jealous as possible.

"I can say the same about you." She said, her words slightly slurring. Smith took a step closer, snaking an arm around her waist. Everyone in Hogwarts who had a brain knew he had liked her since fourth year, which was one of the reasons Regulus despised him, but also the other way around.

Everyone in Hogwarts with a brain also knew Smith was an actual, selfish, prick. He had a reputation of cheating, one girl even claimed he had cornered her once, but no one knew if it was true, as she had a reputation of lying.

"I heard your single now." He grinned as he pulled her closer, his breath smelled like alcohol. "It was such a shame you where with... him." He sounded disgusted at the last words.

She let out a sarcastic laugh, starting to maybe regret her decision a little bit... but only a little.

"Well, that's over now... sooo." She trailed her finger passed his white button up. She looked up at him and he smashed his lips against hers, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

Her eyes fluttered open to look around the room and they landed on Regulus who wasn't looking at her as his eyes traveled around the room, but she could see them slowly make their way over to them and she closed her eyes again as Smith tongue slipped into her mouth.

They broke apart for a moment before they kissed again and slowly his hands started to travel, one slipping into her skirt and the other under her top.

His lips detached from hers and made their way to her neck and then he whispered in her ears. "Seeing such a beautiful girl like you with a Slytherin. Tsk, I'll show you what it's like to be with a real guy." He whispered before going back to kissing her neck and his hand suddenly slipped into her panty's.

She was taken by surprise but before she could do anything about it, someone else did.

Regulus had made his way trough the crowd, pushing people aside and watching as Smith went further into her skirt and kissing her neck, it made his blood boil.

"Back the fuck off." He said and Smith looked up and grinned, taking his hand out of her skirt, and Regulus almost thought she looked relieved.

They made eyes contact and he narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you want." She said, obviously with alcohol in her system. "Indeed, what do you want?" Smith asked as he put and arm around her waste and his finger tips rested under the band of her skirt.

"I want you, to get your filthy hands of her." Regulus said with a threatening tone. "And why would I do that? Such a pretty girl, and she isn't yours anymore? I wouldn't even have cared is she still was, I had plans anyway." He laughed dryly and Y/n looked rather horrified as she questioned if that would have been against her will.

"Leave her alone." Regulus demanded and Smith smirked. "And why would I do that, she seemed to be rather enjoying me."

Suddenly, Y/n started to really regret her decision, and grabbed his wrist to stop him from going any further. "What is it baby, you don't like it?" He asked and she sighed and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Stop, I want you to stop." She told him and he huffed. "You don't tell me when to stop." He said and pulled the hand on his wrist away with his other hand.

She knew she had gotten herself in this situation, it was her own fault, but now she really wanted to get out. Suddenly he let go of her and Y/n hadn't processed the sickening crack.

Regulus had punched him right in the nose and blood was rapidly streaming out. His grey eyes fell on Y/n who stared shocked.

He grabbed her arm and then dragged her out of the common room and eventually stopped in a hallway.

"What is wrong with you?" He asked angrily. "Do you know how much worse that could have been?" He asked, he was furious as he turned his back to her.

"Honestly, Y/n that was such a stupid move! And for what? Making me jealous? Well it worked, happy now?" He turned to her as he yelled, but stopped as he watched her.

Her hands where shaking and tears streamed down her face. His features softened as he walked towards her and took her hands in his, placing a soft kiss on each of them.

"It's alright." He whispered to her and she shook her head. "No, no it's not, I'm so sorry, it was a stupid move. I didn't think it trough." She said as more tears streamed down her face and she sniffed as her nose was now full and starting to run.

He wiped away the tears with his sleeve and kissed her on the forehead. "It's alright, Ma Cherie." He whispered as he hugged her. "Come, you need to get some sleep." He said and then led her over to the Slytherin dorms.

She was sitting on his bed as Regulus took a T-shirt and sweatpants out of his closet. He hands rested on her top and then looked at her. "May I help you here?" He asked and she nodded.

"Use your words, darling." He said softly, he always requested she used words when asking for her permission to do things like this, as he didn't want her to regret later.

"Yes." She croaked out and he slowly lifted it over her head and helped her pull the clean shirt over her head. He did the same with the pants and then tucked her into his bed.

He changed out of his clothes to, and joined her, pulling her into him and kissing her forehead. "I love you, my little dove." He said and she murmured something along the lines of "I love you too." Back before falling asleep.

[tokkiwrites]

summary: You're caught off guard when Wade calls you 'puppy'. He's even more shocked when he realizes how much it actually affects you in all the right ways. tags: pwp, established relationships, afab reader, pet play themes, degradation, dry humping, choking, cum eating, masturbaton (m receiving). /ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ happy spookytokki kinktober!! my first deadpool fanfic yay!!! its kind of short, only 1.8k words but i hope you enjoy this nonetheless. not betad!

The soft glow of the TV flickers across the living room, casting shadows on the walls as you curl up next to Wade on the couch. The evening is unusually quiet, a break from the chaos that follows him around like a storm, something you'd gotten used to. His arm is draped gently over your shoulders, and your head rests against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing making you feel safe, even when you know that quiet never lasts long with Wade. he keeps you safeㅡ you just wish he'd keep himself too.

Wade was flipping through channels with a practiced boredom, sighing dramatically every few seconds. “How is there nothing on TV? Hundreds of channels, and I still can’t find anything to keep my superior intellect entertained.”

You roll your eyes, leaning over to steal a piece of popcorn from his bowl. “Maybe because you’ve seen every movie that involves crazy inhuman acts at least ten times.”

“Or,” he says, pointing at you with mock seriousness, “they just don’t make ‘em like they used to. I mean, where’s the drama? The art? The—” He pauses, turning to look at you with a grin. “I’m just kidding. I’m way too distracted by your cute face to care about movies right now.” and you can't help but blush. it felt stupid, but he made you feel like you were a teenager in love all over again.

Wade shifts beside you, stretching his legs across the coffee table with a satisfied groan. “Ah, domestic bliss. You, me, questionable snacks, and the delightful sound of my own voice,” he says, breaking the silence. “Does it get any better than this? No bullets, no explosions… I’m practically a whole new Wade.”

You smile, leaning into his shoulder, the smell of his cologne and a faint trace of gunpowder still clinging to him. “You sure you’re okay with a quiet night in? I mean, I know you’ve got that... thing where you need constant action.”

“I am fully committed to this lifestyle,” Wade declares, patting your leg as if sealing the deal. “I’ve already planned out our entire evening: sit, snuggle, snack, snarky commentary, and then maybe I serenade you with my totally above-average karaoke skills. You’ll swoon, I’ll catch you, and we’ll live happily ever after. It’s like a Hallmark movie, but with better one-liners.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his antics. “Swooning’s a big maybe. And since when do you plan things?”

“Since I started dating a woman who demands excellence,” he says, giving you a dramatic, exaggerated wink. “I’m a changed man, baby. No more flying by the seat of my pants… unless those pants are on fire. Which, you know, happens more often than you’d think.”

"Let's just watch the movie, Wade." You whisper softly whilst planting a gentle peck on his lips.

A few minutes later, the credits of some random action movie roll on the screen, and you stretch, deciding to get up and grab a drink from the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” you ask, looking over your shoulder.

Wade leans back into the cushions, folding his arms behind his head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, puppy.”

You freeze mid-step, your hand gripping the edge of the counter, the word clinging to you like a spell. puppy? Your heart skips a beat, and you can feel the warmth creeping up your neck to your cheeks. The way it rolled off his tongue, like he didn’t even realize he’d said it, but it hits you harder than you’d like to admit, making your core burn up in an instant.

Turning around slowly, you glance at him, but Wade is staring at the TV, completely unfazed, as if calling you ‘puppy’ is the most normal thing in the world. “what did you just call me?” you ask, your voice coming out quieter than you intended, the heat washes over you.

Wade raises an eyebrow, turning to you with a smirk. “Huh? Oh, puppy? Yeah. What, you don’t like it?” He stretches his legs out a bit more, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s caught you off guard. You feel your face get even warmer, and you stammer, “I—I didn’t say that. It’s just… I didn’tㅡ” you stumble and get tangled in your own words.

His smirk grows, and he tilts his head as if he’s just made the most fascinating discovery. “Oh,” he says, drawing out the word. "you don’t mind it, huh, puppy?" Your stomach flips at the way he says it again, with just enough teasing in his tone to send your nerves into overdrive. You quickly busy yourself with grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, hoping he won’t notice how flustered you’ve gotten.

But Wade is Wade, and of course, he notices. He’s grinning now, watching you with amused eyes as you awkwardly sip from your glass. It's like he can smell it on you. “You’re so cute when you’re all flustered, you know that?” he adds, still teasing. “Should I call you ‘puppy’ more often?”

You shake your head, trying to will away the blush on your cheeks, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “No… I mean, maybe. I don’t knowㅡ I'm sorry, it's weird." he laughs, sitting up and pulling you back down onto the couch beside him. “Too late." he chirps, voice dropping down an octave.

You bury your face in your hands, trying your best to ignore the growing wetness in your panties. "Maybe I'll get you one of those cute collars, with a bell...make you crawl on all fours around the house, hm?" you let out a shaky breath, mumbling a soft 'Wade' as his hands snake around you and up your back, his rugged palm finally in your hair. "You'd want that, huh? be my good little puppy." the ringing in your ears picks up, heart running wildly in your chest as a hursh tug of you locks pulls you off of wade. "Show me."

"Whㅡ?"

"Show me you're a good pet, baby. Show me you deserve to have me as an owner." oh, and how your pussy flutters at his words, eyes wider than before, pupils fully blown out and lips puffy from how much you've bitten them. "You wanna make me proud, right?" you let yourself play his little dirty game, arousal coating your very being. "Y-Yes?"

"Yeah? Get down. On your knees, c'mon." You quickly obliged, not wanting to waste any more moments. the way his eyes scanned you, top to bottom as you kneeled in front of him, as if waiting for a treatㅡ it drove him mad.

"I want you to hump my leg." you choke a bit on your own breath. "Wade whatㅡ?" but he quickly shuts you up with a gentle slap to the mouth with the back of his hand. "Do dogs talk? I don't think so...They take orders and do as they're told." you gulp the knot in your throat, wades dark voice making each hair stand up on your body. something about this was so exciting, so new.

you hesitate at first, but with a few breaths in you scoot yourself over so that your clothed cunt is now directly on top of his foot, the sudden pressure on your swollen bud making you whimper. wade can't help but smile seeing you like this. his hand reaches out to the other end of the couch where a leather belt laid for the past few days. in a few moves the accessory is wrapped snug around your throat, with wade holding one end of it.

"Look so pretty like this, puppy. Go on now." he motions you to move. you slowly start rocking your hips, your knees already aching from the rough carpet underneath you, but the pain hurt so good mixed with the friction and heat from your underwear. the belt tightened as wade pulled on it, earning a soft gasp from you. "Faster, show me you want it."

and show you do. in a few second your speed picks up, breasts bouncing as you chase your high. your eyes are teary, vision blurry and mouth wide open as you gasp for air. the belt was digging into your skin, you knew you'd be bruised for the next few days, but you didn't care. "Open your mouth, pup." You're quick to obey, and the moment your lips part wade leans in closer only to spit right onto your lulled out tongue. "Swallow." he's stern and rough with his words and actions, leaning back as he watches you fuck yourself onto his leg. he enjoyed seeing you like this, nothing behind your eyes, just the thought of pleasing him. "You look so dumb right now, baby." he laughs, tugging harder at the belt. "I thought i needed to get you cockdrunkㅡ turns out i don't even need to give you any dick. there's literally nothing else in that small puppy brain of yours, huh?"

you whine and whimper as you feel your orgasm near, wades words only amplifying that feeling. you couldn’t even form a sentence. you didn’t even try. it felt perfect like this, at his feet. "Keep your tongue out." he commands, as he reaches his hand into the boxer shorts he was wearing and pulling out his erect shaft. the tip was leaking, and you swear it was harder than you've ever seen before. wades hand wraps tightly around the base of it, and gives it a few pumps as he watches you continuously rub yourself onto him. "Poor pussy, baby. probably so needy for this cock, hm?" you mumble a few incoherent 'yes's, fingers gripping tightly at his thighs. "Want me to come on you, pup? make you clean it up after, lick it all up like the good doggy you areㅡ shit." you were so close, you could barely hold your head up anymore.

"Fuckㅡ that's right, pup, earn it. Earn my come." he groans, stroking himself, veins pulsing, hips bucking up into his hand. your moans fill the room, the fuzzy feeling in your brain getting harder to overcome. thats when you feel it ripping through you, that familiar feeling that was pulled in your core now erupting like a million fireworks. your eyes roll back as you mindlessly keep moving your body. you hear wade mutter a harsh 'fuck' before you feel warm drops fall onto your tongue, face and chest, then trickle down. you try your best to swallow whatever you can as you both sit like that, breathless for a few second.

"And I thought I had weird kinksㅡ"

"Wade!"

[vxsellie]

𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔤𝔬. — E.W

summary. ellie slipped between your fingers, falling right out of your grasp as though she were liquid. it was better for you both, sure, but that doesn't make losing her any easier. ⌇ 4.7k wc.

notes. i posted a poll a few weeks ago asking what u guys wanted to see & this was ur answer so here she is! i hope it lives up to ur guys standards! anyway,, first and foremost, this is based off of the songs 'your needs, my needs' & 'call your mom' by noah kahan. he does a fantastic job depicting addiction and the impact of its severity. i heavily suggest listening to those songs in order to grasp the depth of what i'm trying to portray here.

second, i want to preface this by saying that i am not romanticizing or promoting addiction in any way whatsoever. drugs & alcohol are horrible coping mechanisms. as someone who has lost many loved ones to such horridly, i'm writing this in an attempt to shine light on the raw, dark side of what this can lead to. if u or anyone u know is struggling with something similar to ellie in this story, my DMs are always open!

warnings. graphic depictions of death and grief, substance abuse, alcohol & drug addiction, brief toxicity, intoxicated arguments, flashbacks, mentions of vomit, unintentional suicide attempt, angst angst angst

FEBRUARY.

cold fingertips brush the skin of your cheekbone, rousing you from slumber. you know who it is without having to open your eyes, her voice proof of that. ellie's breath still smells of her minty toothpaste as it fans across your face. she leans down to press a kiss to your nose. "good mornin'."

you groan, draping an arm over your eyes. ellie chuckles, her footsteps padding across the hardwood flooring of your shared bedroom. metal scrapes against itself as she pulls the curtains back, allowing sunlight to file through the space. your groans only grow in volume at this, pulling the duvet over your head.

"it's too early." you grumble, voice muffled beneath the pleated fabric.

"baby," she crosses the room back to the bed. you feel the mattress dip under her weight as she sits down on the edge, one of her hands coming to massage the calf of you leg. "it's almost noon."

begrudgingly, you peel the blanket away from your face and frown at her. auburn hair glows like a halo around the crown of her head, her freckles catching the light against her fair skin. oh and those eyes. god, you could look into them until the world came crumbling around you — which it technically has, considering the apocalyptic milieu that encompasses jackson.

"it's saturday, els." you tell her. "we can sit around and do nothing all day."

a smile tugs at her lips, dimples adorning her skin. "actually, maria wanted our help in the gardens today, remember? you got drunk a few weeks ago and agreed."

"oh. i was really excited to be unproductive." you sigh, expression falling. "we could've made breakfast, cozied up on the couch, watched a few sad movies, have sex. y'know, the domestic crap that elderly couples do?"

"first of all, i already made you breakfast." she says, nodding her head in the direction of the opened door. you turn toward it, craning your neck to peer through the doorway. sure enough, there's a plate of eggs and bacon sitting untouched on the countertop in the kitchen. "second, we can still cuddle and watch movies after helping maria. third, we can have sex whenever we want. we don't need to plan it out like teenagers anymore."

you grin at her, "yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

she laughs, the sound melodic. it carries through the air like a hymn, alighting the nerves within you like an ignited flame. if you were a wick, ellie would forever be the match. she lights you up, acting as apollo to your icarus. well. without the harsh fall, of course.

"c'mon, stupid." she says, grabbing you by the wrists and pulling you into a sitting position. you allow yourself to be pulled, dramatizing ellie's haste as you flop forward, leaning against her chest. it shakes with laughter as she removes a hand from your wrist to run her fingers through your hair.

it's matted and unbrushed, though she loves it just the same. loves you just the same. no matter how bad your breath smells in the mornings or how tangled your hair, ellie would never dream of complaining. why would she? to be given the chance to wake up next to you each day, she'd do anything. even if that includes putting up with your silly jokes and your dysania.

domesticity is irrefutably ellie's absolute favorite thing in the world. to make breakfast for you, moving about the kitchen you'd decorated together. to brush her teeth beside you. to give you a gentle kiss before leaving the house. to spend the day longing for your embrace. to come home to you warming dinner over the stove. to listen to you ramble on about your day over the meal. to take a shower where your shampoos sit side by side, her having to use yours when her own runs low. to return to bed to see you dressed into something cozy. to latch onto you under the blankets, limbs tangling together. to smell your hair and know hers smells the same. to fall asleep in the proximity of the girl she loves.

that's her favorite. that's what she'd rather eat glass than live without. and she'd never fathom the idea of doing it with anyone else.

MARCH.

the day joel dies is hard on everyone. he was a glue to the town of jackson, his country drawl and greying hair fading together into a soft presence that was adored by all.

especially by ellie.

and you knew this better than anyone. she loved joel like a father, perhaps even more so. she looked up to him as though the man had hung the stars in the sky. when he died, everything good and right in the world died alongside him. including ellie's gentility. her green eyes hardened, her smiles thinned, her hair matted. she was a wreck.

she doesn't do anything, though nobody in town expects her to. you've picked up on all the chores around the house, refusing to make her do anything in such a state of grief. she holes up in the bedroom all day, never leaving bed. not even to eat.

the first few days of this, you had to force her to eat, coaxing her into opening her mouth and having to remind her to chew. she claimed it tasted like chalk and she needed to spit it out. she cried when you refused to let her. "i don't want it." she'd repeated over and over between sobs, despite only having taken a bite of the stew you made. she leaned on you, her greasy hair falling over her face. you rubbed her back, the vertebrae of her spine poking through her skin.

"i know baby, i know." you whispered. it took everything in you not to start crying at the sound of her sobs, but you knew that would only make things worse. so you stayed beside her until her cries ceased and her limbs fell limp against you. you then laid her back against the mattress, making a mental note to approach this better next time.

she eventually got better at eating, though progress was slow. she's now currently able to eat one meal a day without puking it back up from nausea. the amount of times you've held that poor girl's hair back for her is immeasurable. she's not herself. and it pains you to see her like this, but you haven't a clue how else to handle it.

it's been two weeks since joel's death. ellie has still yet to leave the house and rarely leaves the bed, though she goes to the bathroom now. so thats good. you think it is, at least. she still needs to be reminded when to eat and needs help in the shower sometimes, or she'll stay in there for hours without even touching the soaps. her mind is a plethora of nonsense, malarkey acting as the puppeteer to her every waking thought.

"here," you speak softly, reaching across the tub to grab her shampoo. when you pick it up, you register that it's barely been used. you frown at this. "ellie, why—"

"i like yours better." she mutters, so quiet you can barely hear her voice.

"what? you never liked mine better." you say with a frown, though you don't hesitate to oblige her request. you place her shampoo down and grab your own. "you've always insisted that we buy that specific brand for you."

"yeah, because it's the brand joel uses- uh, used."

your movements cease, heart clenching. her voice cracked as she spoke, eyes burning as she swallowed harshly. you take a deep breath to ground yourself, blowing out through your mouth. you can not cry right now. not in front of her.

you'd made that mistake last week. you started crying when you saw her journal and all the crossed out drawings of joel. she frowned, appearing genuinely confused by your sadness. she comforted you, which only made you sob harder. you felt so, so guilty for it because she's the one who should be comforted, not you. but she's so loving that she can't even stomach seeing you upset.

as you apply your own shampoo into ellie's scalp, massaging it to bubbles, you decide that you'd do anything for her. for your light, your apollo.

MAY.

it's like living with a ghost. two months since joel's death and ellie has begun to change. drastically. she's never home anymore, always hanging out with her friends or busying herself with work. you have the sneaking suspicion that it's her way of keeping her mind from succumbing to that aching grief that embodied her in march. so you say nothing, deciding to let her be.

though, admittedly, you begin to wonder what she does when she doesn't come home. when she stays out for three days without telling you where she's going nor been. when you cook dinner for two, only to eat for one. when your shampoo sits in your shower only used on one scalp.

you've found it hard to fall asleep alone after living with ellie for so long. you'd grown dependent on the comfort her presence provides. tangling your legs together under the blanket while her arms wrap around your waist. now, in her stead lies an empty mattress and unwrinkled sheets.

it's currently been three days since you last saw ellie. you're sitting at the dinner table alone, picking at your pasta when you hear a rapid knock at the door. you instantly perk up.

you hope it's ellie, though you wonder why she doesn't just let herself in. she has her own set of keys, so why knock?

you stand from your chair, the legs scraping against the wood flooring as your push to your feet. the door creaks on its hinges when you pull it open. just as you'd thought, ellie stands on the porch. her head is lowered, auburn tufts covering her face like a veil. or perhaps a mask.

you open the door wider to allow her entry. the light pools out onto the porch and across the tops of her converse. she notices the shift and begins to enter, though she's acting strange. she's stumbling over her own feet, refusing to lift her head. your brows furrow as you lock the door behind you.

when you turn around, ellie is sitting in your chair as she begins to eat from your plate of pasta. you frown, "i can get you a serving, if you want. i made enough for two. i always do."

she lifts her head and you realize why she's acting so weird. between her lidded eyes and bloodshot scleras, it's clear that she's not sober. she raised a brow at your staring, "what?" her tone is sharp, unlike herself.

"nothing, baby. it's fine." you sigh, turning to grab her a plate from the cabinets above your head. you pull one from the shelf and begin to add pasta onto it. however, by the time you reach the table, ellie's passed out atop it. her face is smushed into the tabletop, hair getting all in your food.

you huff out a breath, shifting to hold her plate in one hand before lightly shaking her shoulders with your other. she doesn't rouse so you shake her even harder. eventually, she snaps awake. perhaps too quickly, because she thrashes out. her arms flail, knuckles colliding with your cheekbone.

the plate in your hand falls to the floor, glass shattering against wood. ellie's eyes widen, her gaze trained on your face as yours remains trained on the broken dish below your feet.

she begins to stand, "i didn't mean—"

"it's okay, els." you assure her with a small smile, urging her to sit back down. the last thing you want is glass in her foot.

"no, i—" she shakes her head, clearly fighting her own mind as she combats for ascendancy over her inebriation. "i hit you.. i never meant to— to ever—"

"ellie." you interrupt, voice hard. "it's fine."

her lips thin as she gives you a curt nod in response. you walk into the kitchen to retrieve the broom. when you return, ellie is out of her chair and walking toward the door. you frown at her and she gives you a pitying look before exiting the house without another word.

AUGUST.

"drugs, ellie?" you shout, hands flying up in emphasis. "you're taking fucking pills now!?"

"don't snoop through my shit!" she shouts back.

your voices bounce off the walls of your home. once such a cozy, quiet place of solace. now only visited in short increments when in need of food or a bed. the light of the candle you'd lit this morning glows a soft orange, almost taunting you with its clashing softness.

ellie hasn't been home all month. she finally came back last night, kissing you gently as she apologized for acting so strange. she confided in you, explaining how she's been having a hard time but intends to make up for it. her hands were benign as she ran them over your bare skin last night. oh so kind, she was. her words were like music, playing the exact lyrics that you'd coveted for months.

only to wake up this morning and find out the truth. you'd come into the kitchen to prepare her breakfast, a soft smile on your lips as you lit the candle. you'd noticed that she left her coat on the counter and reached to grab it for her. you hadn't meant to snoop, just to clean up behind her. as you've been doing since march.

but then you heard an odd sound from within the pocket. you reached into it, thinking she'd left her keys. and you knew ellie long enough to know that she'd freak out, thinking she'd lost them if you didn't put them on the table for her.

but they weren't her keys. they were pills.

"i didn't snoop, you asshole!" you exclaim. "i was trying to help you!"

"i don't need you controlling my fucking life all the time!" she shouts, features contorted into an expression of rage that you'd never seen her wear. it was disquieting.

"controlling?" you shake your head in disbelief. "i'm trying to keep you from doing shit you'll regret! i'm sorry for caring!"

"oh, don't fucking turn this on me." ellie scoffs.

you watch her with furrowed brows. is she serious? turn this on her? you're genuinely unsure on what you did wrong. you let her back into the home, slept with her, made her favorite breakfast in bed. then found out that she fucking lied. she was keeping shit from you.

your tone is much softer when you ask, "..were you even sober last night?"

her jaw clenches, but she doesn't respond. tears well in your eyes at the thought.

you'd never been more excited than you were last night. to finally have her back. your ellie. to have her coming back to you, for you. you'd fallen asleep last night studying her features. your fingertip traced the slope of her nose down to the cupids bow of her lip.

your chest aches as you say these next words. "get out of my house."

"your house?" she asks.

you feel like your drowning. or perhaps you're choking. or falling. but whatever it is, you're sure it's irrevocable. your throat is so tight you can hardly breathe. "i want all your shit packed and out of here by the end of the month."

ellie's eyes widen. "you're not serious."

"i've never been more serious in my fucking life." you say. "you can't storm in here whenever you want, use me like some whore, then leave when you feel like it. i'm tired of your bullshit ellie, that was my final straw."

her eyes are glassy as she grabs her coat — which is still full of pills — and leaves.

the moment the door slams shut behind her, you fall to the floor. your knees give out beneath your weight, the tile flooring cold against the palms of your hands. so this is what it is to fall. to chase the sun and get burned. to melt your wax and plummet. all you can thing, as you hear ellie's muffled cries outside the door, is how much you empathize with icarus for being foolish enough to reach for apollo.

OCTOBER.

jesse is throwing a party for his twenty second birthday. it's not a huge party, but large enough that you're sure ellie will be there. it's only been two months since you broke things off with her.

nothing, since then, has felt real. the length of your hair, the shape of your bones, the height of your spine. nothing is right in the world. in you.

but this is for jesse, not for ellie. if she's here today, that's her problem. not yours. for once, it's ellie's turn to regret. you're sick of being the one crying at night when you can hear her unlock the door to retrieve her things when she thinks you're asleep. you're fucking tired of it. she's the one who ruined everything.

you knock one, two, three times before the door swings open. dina smiles at you kindly as she widens the door to allow you inside. you thank her, though you know she's not your friend. you two aren't on bad terms necessarily, she just doesn't seem like you all that much. which is fine.

you enter the home to see that most guests have already arrived and are already drinking. jesse is in the living room, a goofy party hat atop his head as he shouts at the television. behind him, people laugh from the couches. one of those people is ellie. her legs are spread, an empty beer bottle hanging from her loose fingers. she doesn't seem to notice you, engrossed in whatever is happening on the tv. dina's gaze lingers on you for a moment before she leaves.

you walk to the kitchen to place your belongings down, pulling out the gift that you'd bought for jesse. the kitchen is empty, everyone else having crowded into the living room. though, it doesn't stay empty for long.

"what're you doin' here." ellie's voice speaks from the doorway. you don't look in her direction, not daring to.

"jesse's my friend too, ellie." you remind her with a sigh, placing the gift on the counter alongside all the other gifts.

part of you yearns to run to her, to pull her into your arms out of pure instinct. but you're not able to do that anymore because she's not yours. you spent over five months trying to comfort her into sobriety, only for your efforts to be in vain. so, instead of acting on foolish impulse, you keep your feet planted in place as you refuse to face her.

"you can't even look at me?" she slurs, voice tinged with annoyance.

"you're not yourself, right now." you say, eyes remaining pinned to the countertop in front of you. "i don't want to see you like this."

in truth, you know the sight of her so intoxicated would only ruin you further. it'd make you yearn for her even more as your mind reminisces on all that's been lost. all those wasted months you could have spent with her. all those nights you took for granted. those smiles. those eyes. seeing her like this would tarnish the few good memories that prevail.

"right," she scoffs, "'cause you're such a fuckin' saint yourself."

"i might not be a saint, but at least i'm still me." you say. "i haven't changed into some pathetic shell of a person."

her jaw clenches, "i'm still me, too."

"no, ellie, you're not." you finally lift your head to face her. your brow is knitted, concern painting your features with something akin to sorrow. it shoots through ellie's chest like a dagger, the sight of your saddened expression. she swallows, burying whatever sense of guilt she feels deep under a facade of vexation. "you're not the woman i fell in love with, you—"

"yes i am!" she shouts, slamming the empty bottle onto the countertop. a long clang rings through the space between you. "i'm the same fucking person!"

"ellie, dont—"

"y'know, back in april, you told me that grief comes in all different forms. you told me that what i'm feeling is normal! you—" her words are cut off by the sound of her voice cracking. your heart cracks along with it.

"that was before i knew how bad this would get." you say. "i thought it was just alcohol."

"it was!" she exclaims. "for a while, it was!"

"it doesn't matter what it was." you snap. "it's no longer just alcohol anymore. you're into pills and drugs and—"

"you can't fuckin' blame me for that!" she yells. you're sure everyone can hear her now. though, due to how drunk they are, you doubt they care enough to eavesdrop. "i was going— i am going through a lot!"

"i get that, ellie. i do." you argue. "but you can't ruin yourself like this! joel wouldn't want this from you and neither do i. you aren't thinking!"

her fists clench at her sides, voice lowering. "don't bring joel into this. he has nothing to do with it."

"he has everything to do with it!" you shout. sucking in a deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose in exhaustion. when you continue, your voice has dropped back down to a calmer tone, something you've learned to do during those on-and-off months with ellie. yelling at her only makes her grow more defensive and elongates her next expedition. "he's dead, ellie. he's gone and you're struggling with that. and that's okay. but turn to your friends for comfort. turn to people who love you, not drugs. they don't help you, els."

"turn to my friends? turn to people who love me?" she shakes her head, scoffing incredulously. "i tried that. i turned to you, i leaned on you. i tried and tried and tried and you left me."

"i didn't—"

"you left me when i was at my lowest. what else was i supposed to do?" she says, bottom lip quivering. you can't tell if it's from rage or sadness. a few months ago, you'd be able to read her like a book. not anymore. "you did this to me."

oh. that did it. tears well in your eyes embarrassingly fast. ellie's expression falters for a second, just long enough for you to respond. "fuck you, ellie. if you want to act like an asshole, go ahead. but if you think i'll just sit idly by while you kill yourself, you're painfully fucking wrong."

NOVEMBER.

someone's knocking at your door. it's well past midnight and you're in the middle of brushing your teeth. you curse under your breath, spitting before rushing to the front door. they continue to bang on the wood. "i'm fucking coming, calm down!"

you swing the door open, the chilly air sweeping inside. your eyes take a second to adjust to the light before you recognize ellie's silhouette. your eyes widen as she staggers inside. she leans against you instinctively, hands bracing your shoulders as she trips over her own feet. you hold her around the waist, guiding her toward your couch. the one she'd picked out three years ago.

"didn't know.." her words trail off and you shush her, rolling her onto her side in case she needs to vomit. she continues to mutter incoherently as you pace the room, not knowing what to do.

"fucking hell, els." you breathe, watching as her blinking slows and her mouth begins to drool. the black of her pupils take up more space than her irises, worryingly so.

"e'ryone else 's asleep," she murmurs.

you come forward, casting her hair out of her face. "shh, don't speak, baby, you're fine. no need to explain, 'kay?"

"mmm," she hums, eyes fluttering, "m'kay."

you nod, pushing to your feet as you continue to think of what the fuck you're supposed to do. what did she even take to get this bad? who the hell is selling it to her? everyone in jackson knows that she just lost joel earlier this year. god, if you could get your hands on them..

she begins coughing, though it sounds closer to gagging than anything. your heart rushes in your chest, "fuck fuck fuck."

without thinking, you grab your phone from your wall and dial tommy's number. it rings thrice before his voice comes through the line. he barely has time to ask who you are before you're explaining everything between sobs.

tommy, maria, and a few medics arrive within ten minutes. they haul ellie away on a stretcher, speaking too fast for you to pick up on anything. you stand in your living room as tommy follows them out. maria walks over to you as you're rubbing harshly at your eyes.

"you did the right thing, kid." she assures you, voice so soft that it only makes you cry harder. she frowns, humming sadly as she pulls you into a hug. "i know it's hard. grief always is."

you pull back, looking at her through teary eyes, "how'd you handle tommy? after joel passed."

"i hardly did." she admits. "we're not on the best terms, even now. that's just was loss does to people. it drives them apart until there's nothing left to drive apart."

"i don't..." you frown. "i don't think ellie and i have anything left."

APRIL.

you haven't spoken to ellie since november. after she awoke in a medical cot, she was more sober than she's been in months. her withdrawals were horrid, tommy said. he kept you in the loop with everything because ellie refused to see you, claiming to loathe you for having called tommy.

you can't lie, your heart definitely broke when you heard that. to imagine ellie from last year, kissing you awake with breakfast in bed, and comparing her to the ellie from now, claiming to never want to see your face again? the thought makes you feen genuinely ill.

snow sticks to the ground as you walk through the town of jackson. you're on your way to the grocery store when you see her. well, them. dina walks beside ellie as they saunter down the sidewalk, hands clasped together. she has that look on her face, the one she used to only ever give you. the one nobody else was lucky enough to see.

you huff breath, turning to look in the other direction as you pretend to not have even seen them together.

ellie seems to be getting better. and that's all that matters.

her eyes are bright, her nose is red from the cold. you can see her freckles from here, and you know the exact amount that coat her cheeks. you've counted them, memorized them as her fingertips traced your skin. as her viridescent gaze bore into your own with nothing but the same love she's currently looking at dina with.

you quicken your footsteps, forcing yourself to walk faster before you act on the biting pain in your stomach. the tangible agony that writhes within you.

FEBRUARY.

jj. that's his name.

no, you didn't stalk your ex girlfriend surrogate. you're not that crazy. maria actually came to you, explained that dina had a child and was raising him alongside ellie. she showed you a picture of them, a perfect family of three.

you instantly broke down into tears the moment you saw his gummy smile and fatty fists. dina held him tightly, having the same eyes as he. ellie had an arm draped over her, one hand on jj's shoulder as she beamed at the camera.

ellie is a mom. she has a baby. she has a baby boy who never would have gotten the chance to know her if she'd died that november night two years ago. and yet, she still refuses to speak to you. not a word has been uttered since that night. since she was dying on your couch from an overdose.

but it doesn't matter. who ellie is with and what ellie is doing doesn't matter at all. she's happy and that's all that matters.

you're perfectly content with watching her from afar with wax wings that are sure to burn under her brilliance. you'd tried it once and only ended in scorched flesh and the corpse of letting go.

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[urrockstar-xe]

3 teen boys vs 1 pretty girl - j.m x fem!reader

posted feb 10th, 2024 10:24 pm

heres another belated v day post!! :D im working my way up guys look at me go, im running out of valentine themed songs though if you have recs and see this before the 14th pls send them to me!!

summary: John B and Pope have to help out JJ when he's under too much stress over a pretty girl, not proofread, use of Y/n.

masterlist

wordcount: 1.0k

JJ wasn’t one for romantics, never was, never will be. He’s never witnessed real romance outside of TV shows and movies, although now that he has, with his best friend falling in love, JJ still just didn’t quite get it.

Until he met You, of course, because every sweet, enchanting, and cheesy love story has to start with the player meeting the one.

The one that broke down every little wall with a soft smile and pretty eyes. The one who saves everything while simultaneously ruining it all. 

At least in JJ’s eyes. 

“Dude, just admit you like her” Pope’s words went in one ear and out the other as JJ groaned into the old pillow, dramatically falling onto John B’s couch. “I think he did, just not in a comprehensible way” John B chuckled, shoving JJ’s feet off of his lap.

JJ groaned once more before shifting positions and sitting up on the opposite end of JB. “I don’t know what it is, man. She comes in, introduces herself with a pretty little voice, batting her pretty little eyelashes, smiling a pretty little smile on her pretty little face.” JJ’s voice was laced with irritation, his friends just laughed in response. 

“I think JJ thinks Y/n is pretty, Pope.” “No way, really?” Another round of laughter between the two boys made JJ scoff before chuckling a bit as well, he rubbed at his eyes. 

JJ’s laughter ended with a sigh, “She’s makin’ me crazy.” John B smiled at his friend, nudging his shoulder. “They have that effect huh?” JB remarked, sharing a knowing look with Pope before Pope pulled JJ up off the couch.

“What am I gonna do? I mean, I gotta really wow this girl, man I mean, she’s perfect” JJ gushed as he stared back at his friend who merely smiled back and shook his head. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, why don’t you go work that out with John B and I’ll continue studying.” Pope proposed the idea as JB stood up, patting JJ on the back before nearly dragging him out of the chateau by the back of his hoodie. 

“C’mon, we’re gonna make sure you get your girl by tomorrow night”

JJ and John B loaded up into the Twinkie, heading straight for the closest convenience store. JB distracted his lovelorn friend with loud music that the two teenage boys happily and obnoxiously sang along to. Once they finally pulled up to the store and went inside, John B led JJ to the aisle filled with red and pink colored cardboard, and heart-shaped candies.

“Dude, I don’t even know what kind of candy she likes,” JJ sighed, both boys scanning the wall of options. “This is gonna be harder than I thought.” John B mumbled. 

“It’s all just one big guessing game-” John B got cut off by the store clerk noticing them. 

“Maybank, I better not catch you stealin’ nothin'.” His gruffy booming voice caught their attention, heads turning towards the sound in sync. “Course not, Mr. Wade!” JJ waved, a small smile on his lips as the clerk shook his head and went back to his initial goal, leaving them alone once more. 

JJ watched as John B grabbed one of the blue baskets and started throwing random candy boxes into it. “What are you doing?” JJ furrowed his eyebrows. “She’s gotta like at least one of these, let’s just buy it all” John B shrugged, handing the basket to JJ who turned his attention towards the box full of small stuffed animals. 

JJ picked up a small cat before looking at the little dog holding a love heart. “Do you think she’s more of a dog person or a cat person?” “Which one do you want her to be?” 

JJ abandoned the cat and threw the dog in the basket, just as John B grabbed a pink bag covered in white hearts and threw it on top of their Valentine's treasures. 

“This should be enough right?” John B asked, earning a slightly concerned look from JJ. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the professional here? I’m just the student!” JJ followed him to the counter and helped throw everything in front of Mr. Wade. 

“JJ, I don’t think people see either of us and think of the word professional.” and of course, he couldn’t argue with that.

JJ was left to his own devices the rest of the night, John B had a date with Sarah. 

He did his best at setting up the bag of goodies, before deciding it was good enough because nothing would be as perfect as you no matter how much he tried. 

Finally, Wednesday had come and right around the time you made it outside of your school building you were met with the sight of the Twinkie, eyes watching it as you laughed at something one of your friends said. You said your goodbyes before making your way to the old van just as JJ Maybank came out of the driver’s side and leaned on the passenger’s door. 

“Thought you dropped out, JJ.” You smiled at the blond, who happily mirrored you as he approached him. “You know, gotta come back every once in a while, see how the place is holdin’ up without me.” He shrugged, earning a chuckle from you.

JJ cleared his throat, standing up straight. “I wanted to surprise you. Ask you to be my Valentine.” Your smile got softer, that sweet look on your face almost making JJ chicken out but now he was too deep in. 

“So ask me,” you said softly, after a moment of waiting for him to continue. JJ laughed, shaking his head. “Right, yeah, sorry. Will you be my Valentine, pretty lady?” His voice was quieter than you were used to hearing, you couldn’t help but cover your face as you felt heat spread across your cheeks. JJ chuckled at your reaction before leaning forward just enough to remove your hands from your face. 

“Whadya say?” You smiled at him as he held onto your hands, whispering now that you were so close. “I’ll be your Valentine any day of the week, J.” He smiled back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before letting go of your hands and opening the passenger door, revealing the very same bag that was currently overflowing. 

“Awh, babe.” You smiled at the sight, picking up the little dog plush. 

“Hope you’re a dog person,” He said, grabbing the bag’s handles so you could get in the van. 

“And that you have a severe sweet tooth.” 

[amuyyi]

she wants me (to be loved) .

synopsis; you have always loved huh yunjin, but not in the way she loved you.

trope; huh yunjin x f!reader, angst, unrequited (?) love, bittersweet ending

wc; 4.6k

cw; idk like one cuss word LMAO

a/n; i swear im still in forever writers block but THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THE SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED WARRIOR CATS AMV ON YOUTUBE ITS ABOUT BLUEFUR AND THRUSHPELT PLEEEEK WATCH IT AND/OR LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING IM JUST SO ARRGGHHH also its almost 4 am i am half asleep i just realllyy wanted to finish this. also i used to be a theatre kid so.

You have always loved Huh Yunjin. But not in the way she loved you.

You recall very vividly the first day you met her.

It was the middle of freshman year of high school, and you had just moved into New York from out of state. Your father had just gotten a new job opportunity, and practically wasted no time packing all of your things to move in the middle of the school year. Perfect. New place, new faces, and definitely no friends. Everything an emotional teenage girl needed in a cruical stage of her development. All of the other students in your classes were nice enough, but everyone already had their established friend groups by now, and you simply didn't fit what they were looking for.

Despite the different environment, there was one thing that this school provided that provided some sort of familiarity.

Theater.

Back in middle school and for the brief semester you had in your old high school, you had always been a fan of the big stage. The music, the dramatics, the acting… It was all so whimsical and alluring to you. How could you not get involved?

(Okay, honestly.. You had gotten really into musical theater in middle school once you found a Hamilton animatic and it became your sole personality trait for a good two years or so–)

Unfortunately, you were too much of a coward to truly put yourself out there like the actors around you. High school insecurities and poor self esteem truly did take its toll on you back then. So instead, you settled for being part of the stage crew. 

You thought that getting involved with a club would make it easier for you to socialize and make friends. You could join a community. Yet somehow, it made everything all the more difficult.

Everybody seemed to already know each other and have their own established friends. On top of that, everyone also seemed to know who they hated as well. You would always overhear what other actors and techies would say about one another and it only just put you off from making friends even more. The whole environment was incredible… cliquey. 

Still, you had nothing else better to do, so you stayed. It was… Fine. You still had no real friends, but you did enjoy doing various tasks around the stage. Working with stage lights, helping prepare costumes, painting backdrops. It keeps you busy. It was routine.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to walk in on actors practicing their lines or their songs backstage. Back home, you knew everyone involved within the production– including the actors. You would always compliment them and occasionally even provide help whenever you didn’t have your own techy jobs to fulfill. The main problem? This isn't home. Nobody here was your friend.

But when you found a pretty girl practicing for this semester's production of Phantom of The Opera in an empty hallway, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks and stare. You’ve never seen her before. Well, it's not like you bothered to pay much attention to the people around you anymore— but you feel like you wouldn't miss a face like hers.

She had the prettiest brown hair with highlights and the cutest beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. She was pacing around the hall, script in hand as she did various vocal exercises. The sound of her voice echoes off the walls, and it was just as angelic as she looked. 

“Prima Donna, your song shall live again…!” She sings out, her voice at a steady yet powerful vibrato throughout her verse. Her Bel Canto was skilled and practiced, and you can't help but wonder how long she’s been doing this for. Surely she’s overqualified for a simple high school production? You needed to hear more…

She moves her hands in elegant and dramatic forms as she immerses herself into the self-centered character of Carlotta. She played the roke perfectly, considering how most definitely had your attention now.

 “You took a snub, but theres a public who needs you, think of the cr—“

A loud thud rings throughout the hallway, startling the mystery opera singer as well as yourself. Shit. You look down and see the culprit. Well, it was you. you caused the interruption— but more specifically, it was a freshly decapitated mannequin head with a wig you were going to more securely attach to the top. It was a bit of a horrific sight, in all honesty.

Now that you think about it, this prop might actually be for her. Though you didn't have much time to ponder that thought considering the mysterious brown haired beauty has now caught you eavesdropping on her singing.

The head rolls across the tile floor and lands at her feet. You feel your face warm to what was most likely a bright tomato red as she picks it up by its shortened neck, the wig threatening to fall off as it dangles limply off of the top of its head.

“I'm assuming this is yours?” She smiles kindly at you, though a bit wary. Understandable, really. You would be wary of yourself too if you were in her shoes.

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” you nervously laugh, taking the head from her hands as you try to pat the wig back into place. 

“You sounded good, by the way!” You quickly stammer out, absentmindedly hugging the head to your chest, “Like… really good. Seriously.”

The mystery girl laughs at your flustered words, and she waves her hand dismissively. Her cheeks warm bashfully as she shakes her head.

“Thanks but… I have a lot to work on. My tones off, and I still need to memorize these lines by tomorrow…” she trails off, moving to press her back against the wall, sliding and sitting down on the floor.

Fiddling a bit with the mannequin head, you don't allow yourself to think too hard before you suddenly blurt out.

“I-I can help!”

You watch as her pretty brown eyes widen slightly, and

“Really? You sure you arent too busy?

You were actually quite busy, but she didnt have to know that.

“Of course not,” you lie confidently, sticking a hand out, “I’m y/n.”

She eyes your hand curiously, but ultimately shakes it, “Yunjin. Jennifer, if you’d like.”

From then on, you would spend every other day after school with Yunjin, helping her recite her lines, fitting her for costume changes, and even finishing that mannequin head prop for her.

Soon after, your after school hangouts turned into out of school hangouts and then eventual sleepovers every weekend. You learned everything possible about Yunjin. Like how she had always dreamed of being a performer, how she wanted to make it big in the Kpop industry, how she loves snakes…

Since then, you knew you loved her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

On one seemingly normal spring afternoon, you were abruptly torn away from your sunkissed siesta with the sound of your door being kicked open.

With the growing bond between you and Yunjin, you made the mistake of giving the girl a spare key to your own home. (Oddly enough, your parents werent against the idea. They considered Yunjin like a second daughter.)

You whine out as she grasps at your half asleep form, shaking you aggressively.

“I got accepted into a company, y/n!! I'm gonna be a trainee!”

Eyes shooting open, you try to sit up through the aggressive grip Yunjin had on you.

“No kidding?” You croak out, looking at her with disbelief.

“I'm not!” She cheers, bouncing happily through your bedroom. Trying to match her energy through the grogginess, you slip out of bed, stumbling a bit as you tumble into her arms. Yunjin laughs at your state, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you steady as she jumps excitedly.

“I’m  going to move back to Korea next month— this is so exciting!!” She squeals out, and your smile falters ever so slightly. Move? To Korea?

Still, you bite back the sickly feeling developing in your stomach as you squeal alongside her.

You were happy for her, and did nothing but support her all throughout her time in Korea. Called her every night after training, sent her pictures of school life without her, even voting for her in that odd survival show she participated in. You did anything and everything you could to be the best friend you could be.

Yunjin always had the stars in her eyes. But in yours? There was only ever her. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The day that everything truly changed is still fresh in your mind.

After spending years chasing after Yunjin, it feels like you have finally caught up to her. She's back in the states after her time in Korea, and she's planning on staying. She looked a little different than before, but it was the same old Jennifer you knew and loved— even when missing a few moles and deeper eyebags.

Upon her arrival back home, it was like no time had passed. Once again attached at the hip, as it should be. You practically made it your job to crawl into her skin at any given moment and to pamper her with all of her favorite things. 

You would treat her to meals, spontaneous shopping sprees, and simple girls nights out. All of the good stuff to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, your attempts to keep your best friend happy came with their own obstacles. you would occasionally find advertisements or clips of idols that would show up during your time together, and for just a brief moment, you would see that usual spark within Yunjin’s eyes falter. It was a stark reminder of what she could have had.

It hurt you to see her get reminded of her time as a trainee. It truly was everything she wanted and more. But it was okay, you were here now, and you weren't planning on letting her go this time.

You’d drop any and everything for Yunjin. You allowed her to vent whenever she needed, to come over whenever she wanted, and to indulge in spontaneous late night meals whenever you two felt like it.

Needless to say, your wallet was crying by the time summer was nearing its end, but you didn’t mind at all. Yunjin was back. She was happy. You were happy. Things were finally returning to normal.

The two of you decide on a college to attend together in Boston, both pursuing a major in business. It's neither of your first choices in majors, but it's a good enough money maker in the long run. 

The pair of you sat in Yunjins bedroom, with you comfortably propped up against her bedframe on the floor whilst the brunette lay comfortably on the mattress. You hugged the  djungelskog plushie you had gifted Yunjin some birthday ago close to your chest as you atared at your phone, with Yunjin crunching away on cheez-its as the entire La La Land soundtrack softly plays from the record player in the corner of the room. 

Its nearly less than a month until move in day at Boston University, and you feel beyond giddy. Actual independence? And spending it with your best friend slash secret crush? Your dreams were coming true. Looking through your college dorms on the website, the pair of you converse about the future.

“What kind of theme do you think we should go for our dorm?” you ask, leaning your head against the bed to look up at Yunjin, who was still crunching away contentedly at her snacks.

“I'm not sure… But I do know I want to cover my wall with all of my posters…”

“Ooh! Yeah!! I can add fake flowers on the walls…”

“ Of course, we need a bit of girlish charm— oh! we need to make room for a record player and my guitar.”

“Google maps says there's a 7-eleven near the campus…” you murmur, your short attention prompting you to immediately shift to another topic.

“ Should we go got late night snack runs?”

“Duh.”

“Or maybe if we get tired of the dorm food, we can get equally as crappy convenience store food for instead–”

Suddenly, the music from Yunjin’s phone gets cut off, being replaced with her ringtone (it was Come Inside Of My Heart by IV of Spades ) as she huffs.

“ sorry, hold that thought..” She murmurs, answering the call.

You didn't know any Korean, the only bits you’re familiar with are the phrases Yunjin taught you to talk with her parents (which you also butchered) so you naturally begin to tune out whatever she begins to say on her end. Despite this though, you easily pick up on the shift in tone as she speaks. Professionalism, skepticism, to Shock. That was all you could read off of Yunjin as you looked up from your phone, curiously glancing at her. Her eyes were boggling out of her skull, and she placed a hand over her mouth before ending the call.

The brunette remains frozen in place, hand still over her mouth as a silence passes over the room.

“So….?” You ask, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her.

Yunjin’s voice is shaky, yet laced with a twinge of excitement and disbelief as she speaks, “I just got a call from Hybe. I… I have the chance to debut.”

You don’t know what came over you at that moment. It felt like the world came collapsing down on you. Right now, you should be happy. Jumping for joy, focusing all on Yunjin and her chance for success. She's been given a real chance to make her dreams come true, even after it seemed impossible, even after all the years of rejection and work. This was all she wanted in life and more— you should be happy? Right?

But you’ve always been a selfish person. Or maybe you convinced yourself you were ever since that day. You don’t know. Maybe in that moment, you realized you could lose everything you’ve been waiting for. You’d lose the girl you've chased after for so many years now. If you didn't do something now, you wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again. You were a greedy person, so you confess.

“Yunjin, I love you. I always have.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and it shows. It shows in the way her eyes widen and smile falls. This was a bad idea, but you can't back out now. Your eyes begin to water as your voice cracks.

“I… I don’t want you to go— to leave me…” you choke out, “What about uni? Our dorm? What am I going to do without you?”

You knew you were being manipulative, you knew you were being selfish. But you didn’t care. You wanted her to know how you truly felt. You didn’t want her to leave you, not again. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

Through tears threatening to spill out, you can see her cheeks slowly dust a faint shade of pink as she processes your words. She seems… hesitant. Over what? You weren’t too sure. You weren’t too sure if you even wanted to know. 

The silence that washes over the two of you is beyond suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, digging your nails into your palms as you look away. If you looked at her, you were scared you’d break, and the tears would begin to flow. After a few moments that feel like hours, she finally responds.

“I believe you have feelings for me…” she begins, voice soft yet strained. For some reason, those words leave a bad feeling in your gut. You muster up enough courage to meet her gaze. She looked just as hurt and conflicted as you felt. Yunjins grip on her phone tightens as she takes a deep breath, continuing, “...but I can’t give this up, y/n. It's my dream.”

That was the moment you knew you truly lost her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

In another life, you and Yunjin would be at Boston University together, pursuing that business degree that neither of you want.

It's a dream that used to occasionally return to you when Yunjin was overseas. Every now and then, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, and you’d check Yunjins location. She’d still be in Seoul. It was okay though, because you knew she’d always come back. She always came back. Now it haunts you every other night.

The dream is always so incredibly vivid and real. You would wake up to Yunjins many alarms that she somehow manages to sleep through every single time, and you’d peel your eyes opened to your shared dorm room. Though you didn’t have much time to admire the beauty of it all through the sound of an alarm continuously dragging you out of your slumber. She’s always been a heavy sleeper. you’d have to jump on Yunjins sleeping form to even stir her into some form of consciousness.

Yunjin groaned in protest, but you knew her. She wasn’t truly bothered, not when it came to you. Instead of entertaining your futile attempts to wake her up, she would wrap her arm around your waist, dragging you down with her as you squeal out.

She's warm. Her brown bobbed hair has grown out by now, black roots peeking through the top of her head as you join the mess that is her bed (and hair.) She smells like vanilla and wood, and you can't help but laugh into her embrace. You’ll be late to the dining hall for breakfast, but it doesn't really matter. There was a 7-eleven nearby that could provide breakfast while the two of you rushed to your classes– in which you had meticulously planned to have almost every single class together.

After a long day of school, you would return back to your dorm both collapsing on your respective beds as exhaustion settles in. It was decorated just the way you two liked it. With both boy and girl band posters littering the walls alongside some fake vines, flowers, and a multitude of polaroids you two have accumulated over the years. 

Once the two of you move out of the dorms and graduate, you’d find an apartment to share. Dual income and no children, that was the way to live. Alongside a cat and a dog, of course. You’d have a black cat named Binx, and a golden retriever named Dug, something you two had discussed many times before. 

It’s beyond perfect. You lay on the couch, comfortably in Yunjins arms as a blanket is lazily draped over your forms. Binx is settled upon your lap as Dug takes up the space on the rug. The tv is playing Coraline— a staple movie for you two, and you'd smile. Yunjin would lovingly return the grin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

And then you’d wake up, the grim reality of your situation compared to your dream sending tears flowing down your cheeks. You’re constantly reminded how Yunjin wasn't yours. Not in this lifetime. And it hurt more than anything else.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You’ve always been there for Yunjin, both before and after she became famous.

In High school, you of course supported her throughout your brief time in the drama club. But you also provided a shoulder to cry on, a free source of math homework answers, a friend.

When she moved back to Korea to become a trainee, you helped her through the rough patches. Hours of dance training, rigorous workouts, and unhealthy dieting took a toll on her. But you were always there through the phone, no matter the time. 

Even after her debut, you remained loyally by her side. Yunjin grew busier and more distant over the years, and it was understandable. You were busy too. With college, internships, and general “adulting,” it was a challenge to remain in contact. Still, when you two did find time to talk, Yunjin would tell you stories of her members, of the rumors and scandals that would plague the group. It hurt to see her hurting, especially knowing you couldn't be there for her like before. But you were glad to see her achieving all she wanted and more.

You hop into one of Yunjins late night livestreams (even if it was the morning for you.) It wasn’t like you couldn’t just call her whenever you wanted, but it was just another one of the little things you would do to continuously support your friend. Yunjin never made a scene whenever you popped in, but always made sure to look for your comments and read them out every single time.

“Sing something from Phantom or you’re lame?” She reads out, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she does so.

The idol gives the camera a knowing look, one that only could be read by you, and you smile as she clears her throat. Phantom of the Opera is what brought you two together, after all. She spends a few minutes doing short vocal exercises to warm up her voice, and the sight is oddly nostalgic. Yunjin then sits up straight as she begins to sing, and you feel your heart twinge slightly at her song choice.

“Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Now here you were, in a completely foreign country, placed in more than accommodating seats within the VIP section of this unfamiliar venue you’ve never even heard of before. There were hordes of men around you, all cheering in a deep voiced mass for the girls on stage. You stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, there was Yunjin. You watch her, shining brightly on stage whilst donning a fresh head of bright orange hair. It suited her. Her fiery passion, her fierce determination that got her here in the first place, her glowing smile. It was all only a physical expression of who she was on the inside.

Yunjin had insisted on getting you these tickets– even going out of her way to even cover part of your plane ticket here despite you having a very stable and office job now. You tried to tell her you were happy enough to see her from the nosebleed seats in the back, especially since it was all you could afford on such short notice. But she refused, pulling some strings to give you the best seats possible. She wanted you here. More than anyone else.

You’ve seen Yunjin perform before. How could you not? You could vividly recall the way she would sing out and capture the entire crowd’s attention from the stage of your high school’s auditorium. How she would perform with such confidence and precision, how she performed like she was made for this. 

Things have changed a lot since then. There was no business college in your future together anymore. No planned dorms together. No more late night talks. No 7-eleven snack runs. Yet oddly enough, despite the changes, this was seemingly no different than before. Every person in the crowd was entranced, immediately allured by her natural charm and her passionate voice. You included. Just like those many years before, she still managed to have you bewitched on the sidelines while she chases after the spotlight.

So you cheer. Joining the roaring crowd as you call out Yunjins name, a bright smile playing on your lips as you do so. You’ve always been her biggest fan, after all. You swear you saw her make eye contact with you, seemingly providing her an energy boost as she sings out to the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

Once the show is over, you find your way to the backstage area. You tried your best to explain to the security how you were friends with one of the members, and how she invited you back there. Unfortunately, your Korean was less than conversational, and you pretty much looked like an embarrassingly desperate and obsessive fan until Chaewon came and saved the day.

“y/n-nnie! Come, Come!! I saw you in the crowd!!” She chirps out sweetly, abruptly pushing past the guard and dragging you backstage, leaving the security both confused and a bit exhausted. This might not have been the first time the girls have tried to meet with their friends after performances.

There were people everywhere. Stage hands, stylists, makeup artists, and more, all rushing around you two and occasionally praising Chaewon. You felt beyond out of place, and probably looked the part too. Despite having Yunjin as a friend, you’ve never once felt like you were friends with a celebrity. She was simply your Jennifer, and that was more than enough. Being here though, you could truly see the extent of the impact she had on people. How so many people respected her and admired her.

Lost within your thoughts and observations of the crowd, you barely notice when Chaewon lets go of your arm, leaving you to fall victim to a bright orange mass stampeding your way. Without warning, you’re tackled into a hug by none other than Yunjin herself. You swear you see stars as the air gets forced out of your lungs.

“y/n!! You made it!!” She beams, giving you a firm squeeze pulling away to fully take in the sight of you. Her arms are still firmly wrapped around your form as her eyes almost sparkled with pure affection for you. Your cheeks warm at the contact, and you can't help but shyly avoid her gaze. Even after all of this time, she still has the same effect on you. After letting out a soft breath, she quietly murmurs, “I was singing for you, y’know.”

And your heart aches. Aches for what you two could have had. Aches for feelings she chooses not to reciprocate. You want to be angry with her. Despise her for leaving you behind and living this luxurious celebrity life. 

Yet your heart also swells. Swells with pure affection for the girl you love. The way she holds you, how she insists on having you attend, how sweetly she says your name. All of it makes you crumble all too easily. She truly cares for you, and never let the fame change that. You truly were lucky to have her.

“Really, now? You sure you weren't singing for the sea of men you forced me to sit with?” You laugh out, gently shoving her, “I swear I heard a guy say he ditched a family dinner to be there.”

Yunjin loudly laughs at your comment as she shakes her head, “How about you come over to our dorms to celebrate tonight, yeah? We’ll even let you pick a movie – or I’ll make them watch whatever you choose… Please?”

You were a bit hesitant. These were Yunjin’s friends. You didn’t want to intrude, especially after a crazy night like this. Yet, despite your reluctance, Yunjin stares down at you with those damn puppy eyes, and somehow manages to get Eunchae and Chaewon to join in…

“... Okay, fine,” you groan out, feigning disappointment as you see Yunjins eyes light up. “but we’re watching Coraline.”

The girls all cheer and pull you into a tight hug, with Yunjin holding onto you just a bit tighter than the others.

Huh Yunjin loves you. But not in the way you want. Yunjin wants you to be loved. 

And loved you are, even if it means she can't be yours.

[fungateshortcakes]

Deadly Dinner (old!Logan x fem!reader)

Pairing: old man Logan × fem!mutant! Reader

Summary: A nice family invites you, your husband Logan, Charles and Laura to dinner at their farm. You have a lovely time, yet Logan insists on leaving despite being offered a place to sleep. Maybe you should have listened to him?

Wordcount: 5.1k

Genre: angst, heavy angst, little tiny bit of fluff, follows the plot of the movie (Logan 2017)

Warnings: english is not my first languange! first time posting on tumblr, blood, goore, wounds, violence, death, X24, guns, stabbing, one time use of (Y/N)

I've never uploaded to tumblr before, so I am still trying to figure things out. Let me know if you liked it!

___________________________________

You knew Logan didn't really like sitting here at the dinnertable with this new family when he was supposed to sit in his car and get Laura to her destination - which he didn't believe to be real, but what other choice did he have?

For you, this felt..nice. It was like catching a long needed break, bringing back domestic moments like this even for just a little while. You had missed that in your marriage with Logan for a long time now. He was getting old, getting tired, shutting you off more often than not. And even if this was just play pretend - Laura being your little daughter, despite you knowing her for barely a week, and Charles being Logans father - for a second you allowed yourself to be fooled and enjoy this moment as it was.

"Oh she is adorable" Kathryn cooed as she watched Laura stuff her mouth full of food with her bare hands. You chuckled nervously and went to wipe her greasy fingers clean, to which she looked at you with a slight glare. You gave her a warning glance no one else could see and handed her cuttlery. You turned back to Kathryn with a forced smile. "Isn't she just? That cute little face makes up for all the manners she doesn't have" you elbowed softly into her side, she pouted and began to eat with her fork and knife, albeit unhappy with your decision.

Kathryn laughed, remembering how her teenage son Nate was at that age. "Don't be too dramatic, when Nate was that age, he was no different" she flashed her teeth while watching Laura eat her food in big bites as if she had been starving. "I miss when my big boy was still this little" she giggled and pinched her sons cheek, who groaned in annoyance.

"How did you cope with her going to kindergarden for the first time? Nate is going to college soon and I still can't manage seeing him all grown up" The woman swooned, turning her whole attention to Logan and you, completely neglecting her food. It also had been a good while for her that she got to talk to someone about this, she was eager for a conversation.

This was awkward. Logan and you never actually had children, nor did you two want any in the first place. Not to mention the fact that Laura was no ordinary child created by the love of two people, with a normal life and normal childhood. Your mouth remained open as you looked at her. You kicked Logan under the table and looked at him for help.

He cleared his throat. "Uhm...well. I'd say Laura had a harder time than us" he chuckled, the sound more of a rasp as he scratched his neck. You quickly clocked in. "Right, yeah. When we went to bring her in for her first day, Logan had to peel her off his leg because she didn't want us to go" you smiled and leaned against Logan, his eyes softening. "She cried the whole day until we picked her up again"

A warm feeling spread through Logans chest, dulling the every day ache for a short moment at the thought of what could have been. "Aww, sounds like someone really loves their mommy and daddy." Kathryn cooed to Laura. Laura couldn't care less about the words that were spoken and didn't really give the woman any reaction besides looking at her for a split second after she noticed someone talked to her. Kathryn was a bit...weirded out, to say the least. But it was good enough.

"Nate was the complete opposite" Will suddenly threw in, chewing his food soundly. "The second he hit the ground - he was off. Like he couldn't wait to get away from his mom" he lifted his fist to his mouth and coughed "not that I would blame him-" he muttered before his booming laugh echoed through the room after his wife had slapped his arm. "I'm kiddin" he snickered, holding his hands up in defense.

The whole table laughed, some forced, others genuine. Charles cleared his throat, pulling the attention to him. "In that matter, Laura is just like her father. Ever since Logan met (Y/n), he was stuck to her like glue. And it has been that way ever since"

The family ooe'd at you both, Logan huffing out a quiet laugh as he shrugged his shoulders in that 'what can I say' way, the crows feet near his eyes crinkling deeply.

You hadn't seen him like that in ages, the expression on his face coming as close to what someone would call joy as it could with the pain plaguing him every single minute of his time.

You rubbed his back, leaning your head on his broad shoulder that slumbed only a little under your actions. "Where did the two of you meet, hm?" Kathryn asked, eager to know more about your relationship. You grasped Logans hand under the table, for reassurance of course.

"Well my, my father ran a school for a lot of years. Right, Charles?"

Charles smiled and nodded his head. "Yes, yes it was...it was a kind of special needs school" he lied, Logan softly snorting at the choice of Charles words. "Uh-huh, that's a good description" you laughed at the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Of course Charles couldn't say what this 'school' truely was. But still.

"He was there" Charles started, pointing to Logan. "And she was, too"

Kathryn clasped her hands together. "Oh! So you are something like highschool sweethearts?" she assumed, smiling brightly at Logan and you. "I guess you could say that, yes" you answered and her smile only went wider at what she heard. She put a hand over her heart. "So true love does exist, how lovely"

For her, it sounded like Logan and you had been together ever since you were teenagers. To think that your love was still strong after all these years made her so incredibly happy for you two. Truth was, back at the mansion, you were well in your twenties when you met Logan. Not to mention that he was already over a hundred years old or so at the time. Besides that - you hated each other. Which didn't mean that what Charles said was wrong. Oh no. Logan followed you around everywhere. It annoyed you and he didn't even know why he did it. Turns out, he wanted to protect you ever since he laid eyes on you. Without reason. He just did. Keeping you safe was his priority.

It still was.

Not that you weren't fully cabable of handling any danger yourself. You were a beast in combat and could heal your own as well as other peoples wounds. And yet he felt a whole lot better if he was by your side and could keep an eye out. Just in case.

After you had waited for Laura to still her seemingly insatable hunger, Logan stood up from the table. "Well ma'am, I can't thank you enough for this. Uh, it was great. But we have a long drive ahead of us, so.." he trailed off, tapping Lauras shoulder so she would stand up. You frowned up at him but Kathryn spoke up before you could. "But you need to rest, don't you?" He lifted a hand dismissively "Yeah, we'll find a motel somewhere"

You and him locked eyes and you gently shook your head, he sighed. "The nearest one is two hours from here and it's not even that nice" Will argued and you raised your brows at Logan as if to say 'you seriously want to sleep in a murky hotel when we can stay here for the night?'

"We have a perfectly fine room upstairs for your father and your daughter. And you and your wife can sleep in the livingroom on the convertible" Kathryn reasoned even further as Logan pulled Laura up from her seat by the arm. He stopped to look at the woman. "Kathryn, it's very, very nice of you, but we really should go"

Logan turned, pulling Laura along but you stood up, blocking his way. "We can leave early in the morning. Break of dawn, as it were" Charles chimed in, looking intentively at Logan. "Listen to your father. Come on, just one night. I would agree with you if you'd let me drive once in a while instead. But you'd rather drop dead than let me behind the wheel." You muttered, looking deeply into his tired eyes, your hands gently roaming up and down his sides. "You need a break. Nothing will happen, okay?" The eyecontact in this moment was important to you, yet he huffed and looked away. You quickly catched his jaw, turning him back to you. "Okay?" you asked again.

You could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes moving over your face with his internal fight. He sighed. "Okay" he whispered, kissing your forhead before stepping away. "Why don't we wash up, Pop?" Logan sighed, gripping the handle of Charles wheelchair, pushing him out of the dining area to a bathroom.

You smiled softly as Kathryn gave your daughter- well, Laura, a piece of cake for dessert and the little girl smiled softly for once. She was...just like Logan.

Turning to the big pile of dishes in the sink, you rolled up your sleves and began scrubbing at the dirty plates. You felt a presence behind you. "What are you doing?" Kathryn laughed in surprise as she watched you washing their dishes as if you were their cleaning lady. You knew the next words that would come out of her mouth would be something along the lines of 'you are our guest' and 'let me finish this up while you get comfortable with your husband'

You flashed a smile at her "You gave us a delicious meal and let us stay the night, this is the least I can do to show my gratitude and appreciation" and that quickly shut her up. She was thankful and you knew, that was all that mattered.

The clinking of cuttlery could be heard as you washed the forks and spoons thoroughly with a soap drenched sponge. It was a mindless activity for you, your hands only focused on getting every speck of left-over food off the steel and ceramic, you didn't even realise you were softly humming to yourself. Your mind was elsewhere. That's when you jumped as the water suddenly spurted all over the place, the pipes creaking dangerously. You quickly turned off the water flow before there was a loud "Ah, shit!" and the front door fell shut.

The next second Logan and Charles were out the bathroom. Will explained that the pump station that supplied them with water was a mile away and got itself shut off from time to time. From what Nate said, some douchbag men were the reason for it. No big deal, right? They still had a water tank that had been freshly filled by the heavy rain yesterday, which you used to complete washing the dishes. Yet, Kathryn wanted her husband to fix the problem right away and since he wasn't in the mood to argue with his wife in front of guests, he reluctantly gave in to go out to the fields.

"My son is happy to go with you" Charles chimed in, nodding over to Logan who looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "No, no, its fine" Will declined the offer. Partly because he clearly saw that Logan wasn't really keen on the idea and to Will, Logan looked rather tired, weary and- insustainable, not to say weak. If these assholes came, what kind of help would Logan even be? The last Will needed was to bring you back your husband, all beaten up or something.

Logan of course new better. Yes, he was weary, he was tired, but he's still got it. He'd manage, somehow. Logan threw a last glance at Charles before his shoulders slumbed a bit in defeat. "Allright, I'll go" he rasped and walked over to you. He put his warm, rugged hand on your shoulder, kissing your temple. "I'll be back in a moment, sweetheart. I will get Charles settled, you think you can handle Laura on your own?" there it was again, that slight  smirk that made his eyes crinkle. You smiled at his attempt at teasing you. If your hands wouldn’t have been sopping wet and the others weren't there, you would have certainly wrapped your arms around his neck. Instead, you bumped his side with your hip. "Look who's talking" you  teased back with a small grin. You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek- or as much as you could reach from it, which ended up being more beard than skin. "I will wait for you in the livingroom once I'm done until you get back. I love you"

Logan brought Charles up to the guestroom Kathryn had prepared and went out with Will shortly after. Before you knew, Laura had silently followed Nate up to his room. The house was quiet, even upstairs.

You hummed softly as all you could smell were the sweet soapy bubbles in the sink. You used a small bowl you filled with water from a tank under the sink cabinet to rinse off the dishsoap from the porcelan cups and wine glasses, scrubbing with a rough sponge to leave it shiny and spotless. It was a bit more tedious than if you had running water, but you enjoyed this domestic moment you had to yourself. The last few days had been draining and exhausting, keeping your stress levels high with every dangerous thing life had thrown at you.

You had hope that after all of this, after bringing Laura safe and sound to Eden, that maybe some things would return to normal, that it would get better. You just wanted your husband back. Not in the sense of him not being there anymore in the flesh- but he had been so emotionally absent from you for the past years. You loved him, and he loved you too. It was just hard to keep believing that. You always thought that you were something worth living for to him. You were well aware of the pain he went through every day, the reminders that were constantly thrown at him that he couldn't do things like he used to, the voice in his head only telling him to kill himself to get out of that misery. You had catched him more often than not playing with the adamantium bullet, sometimes even with a shotgun pressed under his chin. You'd rather not see that again- ever.

As you had finished every last piece and put it next to the sink, you searched for a cloth to rub the plates and cuttlery dry. One hand held the spoon while the other engulfed it with the rag, drying it in between every tooth.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of strong hands on your hips, the frizzy texture of a beard scratching the exposed skin of your neck. You hadn't heard how he came in. After the initial shock, you relaxed under your husbands hands and continued your task. "Are you back already? That was pretty quick. I hope these assholes didn't give you two too much trouble" you muttered absentmindedly as you changed out the dry dishes in your hand with still wet ones. "I saw Laura walking up the stairs, she is probably with Charles. Maybe you could check if she's asleep yet before we go to bed" you suggested but never heard and answer from Logan. Yet his grip stayed firmly on your hips. You figured he was just tired, too worn out to care.

His hands felt weirdly...cold. And stiff. Logans were usually warm and lose around your waist or shoulder. This felt different now that you thought about it. What happened out there?

"I'll meet you in the livingroom once I am done here, okay?" you asked then, still no answer. You could only feel his hands travel up from your hips to your waist, resting there. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" you asked him carefully. He smelled different. Like he just broke out of a medical institute, reeking like sanitized air. You grew a bit tense, and you thought he could feel that.

Finally, you decided to turn your head. "Logan-?" you asked, but before you could get the words out, six adamantium blades pierced through your torso, the tips poking out on either side. You choked out a pained yelp, your legs feeling weak. That man behind you, whoever or what he was- he lifted you up to have gravity pull you down more onto his claws. He enjoyed the gutteral cry you let out before he let his blades retract, your body falling onto the ground, your head hitting the kitchen tiles.

Blood gushed from the wounds on your waist, throbbing pain hammered against your skull. You couldn't pass out. If you passed out, you'd die. With short grunts filled with agony, you twisted your aching body to the side, your eyes glancing at the figure of a man, his footsteps thundering up the stairs. You whimpered out, but it was more of a breathless weeze. "No...No, Laura. Charles" you rasped quitely.

The world kept spinning in harsh circles. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. While you could heal, it was unlike Logans ability to do so. While wounds, cuts and bruises vanished the second he got them, or at least that's how it used to be, you had to touch the affected area with your fingers. The bigger the wound, the longer it would take for you to heal it. The bigger the wound, the more the healing process drained your energy. But you couldn't let him get to Laura and Charles. You wouldn't forgive yourself.

You jammed your fingers into the clean cut holes, wailing in pain, your body protesting against your actions as it coiled in on itself. You sobbed out as you tried to bundle your energy and concentrate it to your fingertips, the burning sensation of flesh, intenstines and muscles stitching themselves back together all over your torso.

Tears spilled out of your eyes as you wriggled around in pain on the floor like a worm that had been cut in half. You gasped deeply to fill your lungs with air, completely forgetting to continue to breathe from the amount of energy this took out of you. You tried to stand, tried to get up and save Laura and Charles. But your knees buckled underneath you and you fell back against the kitchen aisle.

With a heaving breath, you sat up to lean your back against the oven door, heart thumping against your ribcage after you heard cries and a gunshot from upstairs. Who was that guy? He had claws. Like Logan. This couldn't be, this wasn't your Logan, right? Right?

Speaking of which, your husband came stumbling into the house, only wearing his white tank, a look of panic etched on his face. As you saw him, you breathed a short sigh of relief. But it worried you even more. Because if the man that had stabbed you wasn't him- then who was he!?

Logans knees nearly buckled under him from the sight of you, your blood spilled onto the tiles, staining your shirt, smeared all over your hands and arms. He fell to his knees next to you, eyes roaming over your body. He saw the six hole shaped wounds on either side of your torso, his gut twisting nauseously as he pictured what happened.

His chest heaved, his strong arms slipping under your legs and back, lifting you up with a pained grunt. "It wasn’t me- oh god it wasn’t me" he rasped, but it sounded more like an reassurance to himself than to you. Because you knew that- he would never do that to you. He made you touch the wounds on your side with your hand, his fingers trembling as he did. "Heal yourself, c'mon please" he pleaded you, his heart squeezing deeply in his chest as he heard you whine in agony, your body too tired and weary to continue.

He brought you outside and laid you into the back of his pick up truck, pressing your hands to your torso tightly. You had broken out into a cold sweat, your gaze a bit blurry as you looked at him. You couldn't say a word, you had to heal yourself. And every breath, every exhale and mutter of our voice pushed you further away from your goal.

Logan brushed his shaking thumb firmly over your cheek, trying to soothe you. And himself. With one last longing look, he turned around to pick up Charles and Laura. But before he could open the door to the house, it was already opened and he was face to face with - himself?

The mans face and his were identical, but the stranger was youthful. No wrinkles, no scars, not a trace of grey in his buzzed hair or beard. Only a deep scowl on his face. Both held intense eyecontact but made no sign of movement. Not until Logans gaze fell downward after hearing a distressed shriek below him.

The man had Laura.

The stranger huffed through his nostrils as he shoved himself past Logan and began to stomp towards a row of armored cars, Laura struggling in the device he had put her in. "No...Laura" you croaked helplessly as you watched, your voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your aching body back to Logan, ready to beg him to save her - but he was already gone, running up the stairs to find Charles. Before you knew it, tears continued to spill out of your eyes and down your cheeks. Everything happened so fast, everything was so much all at once. You were no help, you couldn't fight.

You couldn't save your daughter.

You were on the brink of unconsciousness, your eyes falling shut every now and then as your skull throbbed with pain. You forced yourself to stay awake, forced yourself to listen to Lauras cries as a reminder what a failure you were. Logan was right, you should have left after dinner.

You saw as another three set of cars drove onto the farm, a group of men getting out and standing in the mans way. They talked to him and he lowered Laura onto the ground. You breathed a sigh of short relief, hissing as finally one wound closed up completely on both sides. Five more to go...

A pained grunt threw you out of your haze. It was Logan, with Charles in his arms. Stumbling, he brought him over to you and only then did you see the three wounds on his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as his weak body was laid next to you. "I can heal him" you rasped but Logan knew better. Charles wouldn’t make it, despite the amount of energy you would put into healing him. And the last thing Logan needed was both of you dying without him being able to do anything about it. He swatted your hand away with a hurt look. He had made a decision.

Logan and you leaned over Charles, your tear falling onto his cheek right after he took his last breath. "No..." you whispered shakily, looking up to Logan, his jaw working tightly as he blinked, as if the weight of the moment had settled within him.

An explosion went off behind you, bringing your attention to the man that had Laura. He had killed the group of farmer assholes and was now distracted by the noise and fire. That's when Logan took off.

",Logan, no!" you shrieked in sheer panic, your voice raw, as Logan threw himself at his doppelganger, stabbing him into his neck. He buried his claws into him over and over, grunting as he did. But that bastard healed instantly, just like he did once. The doppelganger roared and flipped Logan over himself, smashing him down against the ground by his claws.

You heard blood splatter, wood cracking, the cutting of blades and the screams of your husband as he was pierced by blades mercilessly, his body growing tired.

You couldn't bear to look as the man rammed his blades through Logans armpit and out of the top of his shoulder. You started hyperventilating as all you could do was listen to your husband getting killed. You cried, desperately pushing your fingertips into your wounds and getting a hold of yourself again. You had lost so much blood, it was hard to know what was up and what was down.

Another wound closed up, and another. You couldn't feel your legs as you growled out, putting the last bit of energy into healing yourself so you could help Logan. Or at least get Laura to safety.

A car crashed into Logans doppelganger, pushing him into the exposed sharp ends of a destroyed tractor piece, trapping him there. He grunted, growling animalistically, struggling to get free. Will slowly got out of the car, a shotgun pointed to the man he had just hit with his car. Frustrated and angry, he shot him three times, the third time taking his eye out of it's socket before he finally quieted down.

Stumbling, Will turned around to face Logan, the real one out of the two. Wills gaze graced over Logans withered and battled body, the way the crimson blood soaked his white tank, dripping down his arms, face and hands. It was everywhere.

Both men panted as they looked at each other, Logan struggling to stand up as his knees kept buckling underneath him. Will grunted and lifted his shotgun, pointing it at Logan with shaking hands. Logan watched, swallowing thickly before he let his head hang, eyes closing and ready for it to end.

"No! No, don't shoot him" you gasped, suddenly standing in front of Logan defensively, holding up your hand to show that you were unarmed. "It wasn’t him, please" you pleaded, but for what? That he wouldn’t shoot just because you said it wasn’t Logans fault? That wouldn’t bring his family back. So what use did it have?

You took a shaky breath. "I know that you are angry, that you are hurt. And you have every right to be" you said to him, trying to find a change in Wills expression, but there was none.

"If you need to shoot someone...shoot me" you uttered. Logans eyes widened and he hoped he had heard you wrong. "No" he slurred, a hint of desperation in his voice as he pushed himself to stand up. You paid him no mind.

"If you need to let your anger out on someone, use me. But don't hurt my husband. He won't survive a bullet. Please" you begged him. Your heart was pounding in your throat, your sides were still aching, but not bleeding anymore. Were you scared? Of course you were. Scared of death, scared of losing the love of your life, scared to leave him and Laura alone...scared to be left alone with a kid that was so smiliar to him.

Despite your pleading, Will pulled the trigger. You jumped at the sound but were pretty much still alive. His gun was empty. And he was dead. With a loud thump, the man fell to the ground, unmoving.

Both you and Logan sighed with a hint of relief. You turned to him, the sight of him all beaten up like a knife to the heart. You made him sit down on the ground, leaning him against the wheel of a tractor. He was protesting, trying to stand up. "My god, Logan, stop fussing! You can’t walk, goddamnit!" you yelled at him, which shut him up. He wasn't mad at you for raising your voice. He knew you were stressed and worried about him. You didn't mean to shout at him. He grunted as you lifted up his shirt, exposing a fleshy wound. "Sh, sh, it's all going to be okay" you breathed, fingers penetrating the wounds. He groaned out and you cooed at him, tears rolling down your face. "I'm so sorry. I'm going to heal you as best as I can, then we are going to get Laura and get out of here, drive somewhere safe, okay?" You whispered to him, watching his face contort in pain as his flesh sewed itself back together.

Logan huffed as he saw that your own wounds hadn't finished healing yet, either. He graced them softly with his hand. "Your waist.." he croaked but you shushed him. "Don't worry about me. I'll manage. But you won't on your own" you answered, already feeling a headache forming as your energy was drained, flowing into repairing your husband so he wasn't on the brink of passing out anymore.

Once the biggest wounds were somewhat closed up, Logan had already healed some surface cuts into scars himself. You kissed his forhead before helping him up, his 300lbs body leaning on you for balance.

You slotted him into the passanger seat of the pick up truck before jogging up to Laura, scooping the shrieking girl into your arms. You opened the drivers door and pushed Laura over to Logan before getting behind the wheel yourself and shutting the door. Laura yelled as she saw the dead body of Charles in the back of the truck, Logan had to hold her down into her seat as you drove off.

"What do you think you are doing?" Logan coughes roughly, you could practically hear the frown in his voice. He was displeased with you driving the car, he didn't want you to get involved into a car accident. He also wanted you to rest, this was a lot today. "Do you seriously want to start this now?" you growled at him. This was not the time to argue about mundane stuff like this.

He didn't say another word after that and you sighed deeply. "I want you to rest, okay? Just this one time, let me drive" you mumbled, tired of fighting with him. The air in the car was thick, but the car only went quiet after Logan had freed Laura from her restraints.

You drove in silence, your grip tense on the steering wheel. You felt a hand on your thigh. Logan softly squeezed the meat of your thigh, a way of him saying sorry. To show that you accepted his apology, because why should you be angry at him for long?, you put your hand over his.

You looked at him for a moment. "I love you." he said. And you were glad that after today, after everything, you were still able to hear him say that.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | lifestyles of the rich & famous

i. lifestyles of the rich and famous by good charlotte (introduction)

a/n: introductory chapter! introducing the dynamics of the band, luke's relationship with his mom, and teenage boy antics. pre-reader and pre-chb. things will pick up quickly after this, i promise! bear with me as i set the scene :)

series masterlist | previous | next

“why the fuck am i seeing tabloids on top of tabloids with my kid’s plastered face on the front page of all of them?” 

luke winced at the sound of his mom’s voice echoing through the empty event space. chris covered the bottom half of his face with his shirt, trying to hold in his laughter. may castellan was in her usual pantsuit, high heels clacking against the floor, as she waved around trashy magazines. she was furious. 

“ignoring the fact that you are not 21 years old and cannot legally drink, what were you thinking, luke?” travis dropped his drumsticks on the ground, motioning for chris and connor to follow him backstage. they’d seen luke get chewed out by his mom more often since they started their world tour. as the three boys walked toward the side of the stage, may turned to them. “none of you are off the hook either. you may not have been on the front page, but care to listen to what they said about you in one of their glorious articles?” 

“i would actually prefer not to, mama castellan,” chris mumbled, suddenly feeling caught. all traces of humor instantly drained from his face. luke couldn’t help but scoff, the boys always gave him shit for getting yelled at by his mom, so he was glad that this time around they were all on the sinking ship. 

she dramatically cleared her throat, opening up one of the magazines. luke grimaced at the sight of him on the front page. he was sitting on the curb, his sunglasses askew, with a girl awkwardly patting his back. he doesn’t even remember this. may shot daggers at chris, who was cowering behind his mic stand, “bassist of poisoned mercury, chris rodriguez, was photographed away from the band when he was caught outside smoking something that wasn’t a cigarette, if you catch our drift. hopefully, his habits don’t catch up to him anytime soon.” 

she stared at the stolls next, “drummer and lead guitarist of the rising band, travis and connor stoll, didn’t miss out on the fun. they walked out of the club with two models, who looked like twins, along with a bottle of dom perignon before heading into their suv.”

“and my darling child,” her words were sweet but her tone was anything but. luke chewed on the peeling skin of his bottom lip, “superstar, teen heartthrob, poisoned mercury lead singer, luke castellan, had a great night as seen in these pictures. the resident bad boy had one too many, it seems, as he walked out of the club stumbling with a mysterious blonde under his arm. castellan couldn’t make it into the car and had to sit on the curb to puke his guts out. let’s hope his actions didn’t ruin his chance at a budding romance.” 

may closed the magazine, arms on her hips. she waited patiently for one of the boys to speak up. 

“in our defense, this was in canada,” luke tried to reason, scrunching his face up. “legal drinking age is 18.” 

that was the wrong response, luke realized, when his mom’s eyes lit up in anger. she let out a breath, “you were in toronto where the drinking age is 19, which you weren’t until yesterday.” 

“i did not know that the drinking age in canada varied by region. i always learn something new whenever i talk to you, mama castellan,” travis said, trying to lighten the mood. connor shot him a look, motioning for him to quit talking. may castellan was clearly not in the mood for jokes. 

“i am tired of you guys acting reckless,” she roared, dropping the magazines. they fell with a heavy thud. she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers, “your parents trusted me to take care of you guys while you chased your dreams and this is what you’re doing under my watch?!” 

seeing his mom at her wit's end made luke feel sick. 

“mom,” luke hopped off the stage, ignoring the sound of the magazines ripping under his feet as he landed on top of them, “we’re sorry. i’m sorry.” 

“sorry’s not gonna cut it anymore, luke,” may said, shaking her head. “after this tour, you guys are taking a break. no touring, no public appearances.” 

“what?” connor exclaimed, joining luke off the stage. the other boys followed, looks of bewilderment evident on their faces. “w-we can’t take a break now!” 

“yeah, c’mon, mama c!” chris added, shaking his head, “we’re just getting really big. if we quit now, we’ll lose this momentum.”

“you’re not quitting. it’s just a tiny break– three months,” she cut them off, raising a hand in a stop. “we’ll release a statement to the press saying you guys will be taking some time off to work on your sophomore album so people have something to look forward to when you return.” 

“okay, so that’s the cover story,” luke ran a hand through his curls. he knew that there was no winning against his mom when she made up her mind. he looked at her and spoke before the rest of the band continued their protests, “but what are we actually gonna be doing?” 

“you’re going to spend your summer in montauk, just like old times,” his mom explained, voice still stern. “you’re going to camp half blood.”

-

“what the fuck is a camp half blood?” chris asked, plopping down on the couch they had inside their dressing room. rehearsal was cut short following the news delivered by luke’s mom. 

“it’s a music camp,” luke explained, fidgeting with random things sprawled across his desk, trying to find the pack of cigarettes he hid. he really needed to clean up. “my dad used to take me there over the summer when i was younger.”

the topic of luke’s dad was a sore subject for him. his dad left him and his mom when he was 7 for some young waitress from their hometown diner. one second, he was signing up for little league with his dad as the coach; the next, he was sitting in the hallway listening to his mom cry after his dad packed a bag and left town with wendy the waitress in the passenger seat. luke hasn’t heard from him since then. last he checked, his dad was lounging beachside in santa monica with his third wife who was definitely too young for him. as far as he’s concerned, his dad was dead to him. 

but he couldn’t deny that his time at camp half blood was the place of origin of some of his best childhood memories. he got his first taste of what it was like to be on stage at camp half blood; the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pounding of his heart at the applause, the wild images in his head about what it would be like to be known for his music-- it all started at camp half blood. he was his happiest at camp, at least before his dad ruined it for him. 

“is it fun?” travis asked, twirling a fresh pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“used to be, yeah,” luke chuckled, hoisting himself up to sit on the desk. “haven’t been there since i was seven.” 

“dude, i do not want to hang out with a bunch of little kids all summer,” chris groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

“relax, rodriguez,” luke lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke before continuing. “there’s two sides to the camp. we’ll be with the older kids.” 

“oh shit, is camp half blood mr. d’s music camp?” connor asked. the name of the camp was starting to sound familiar to him.

luke took another drag, nodding, “that’s the one.” 

“dude, i fucking love mr. d. he always has the wildest stories,” travis laughed, “he’s so mellow and chill now, i wouldn’t’ve ever guessed he used to be like that.” 

“it was the 90’s,” chris shrugged, “pretty sure everyone was like that at one point.” 

“paid off for him though,” connor replied, opening a bag of doritos. he offered a chip to his brother, who in return, snatched the bag for himself. connor rolled his eyes, reaching over to grab another one. he was used to this. “i mean being a ceo of a multi-million dollar recording company isn’t too shabby.” 

luke hummed along, mindlessly, letting the chatter of his bandmates fill the air. the three boys fell into a conversation about the last time they saw mr. d at the recording studio when they were finishing up the vocals for their debut album, but luke’s mind was far away from the topic at hand. he couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment from his body. he knew the way his mom looked at him would haunt him for the next few nights.

it wasn’t like he was actively trying to disappoint her– really, he wasn’t, but he just gets so caught up in the noise of fame that he forgets how to act under the pressure. there was something about his mom breaking down in front of him because of him that tore him apart. he felt guilty. his mom didn’t ask for this life, she didn’t even want it. she was content being a suburban mom in westport, connecticut, but she gave up her comfy life to let luke live out his dreams of being a musician. 

he was lucky, he knew that. not every mom would be on board with her kid dropping out of traditional high school to perform rowdy songs about teenage angst, but may castellan was okay with it because she loved luke so much and wanted him to be happy. so when poisoned mercury got a record deal with olympus records, she didn’t hesitate to drop everything and go on the road with four unruly teenagers, promising their parents that she’d take care of their sons. 

sometimes, he thinks about what his mom sees when she looks at him. he wonders if she still recognized him, the him before all the fame got to his head. 

he was may castellan’s little boy. the boy who used to beg his mom for chocolate chip cookies after a bad day at school, who used to knock on her door in the middle of the night wondering why he wasn’t enough for his dad to stay, and who cried when she got him his first guitar on his tenth birthday. for most of his life, it’s always just been him and his mom. 

now, at 19, luke didn’t know who he was anymore. he was just going with the flow, doing whatever, doing whoever, his fame and his status threw his way. he did what any teenage boy would do in his position– he drank, he smoked, he had fun, maybe too much fun, sometimes. it’s a rockstar’s life, his wildest dreams come to life, but it was a distraction, mostly. luke wasn’t brave enough to face the music just yet, so he dove into this fantasy head-first, too afraid to look back.

except sometimes, he fucks up really badly, like in toronto, and he’s forced to deal with the consequences of his actions. one time, his mom cut the band off from playing video games on the tour bus for a month after a heated argument between the four of them caused them to cancel a show. the argument was stupid. luke was adamant that scorpions did not have the same mental capacity for understanding pain that humans do and that did not bode well with travis. rehearsal ended in a brawl because travis kept doing impromptu drum solos to drown out luke’s voice. his mom was pissed that hundreds of fans were disappointed over the canceled show and it was all because they couldn’t agree over a damn scorpion. 

another time, she banned them from driving the golf carts around the venue when they crashed it into a very expensive sound system in portland. they ended up owing upwards of $4,000 for the damages and were banned from playing at the event space ever again. the four of them laughed about it when the chaos of it all subsided, and they were fine not playing at the house of hades again, but they did miss the snack bar they set up for visiting talents. chris said he still dreamt about the pomegranate juice ‘til this day. 

luke can look back at the punishments over the years fondly now. in the grand scheme of things, none of it really mattered. but going to camp half blood? this was a different type of punishment. 

luke didn’t want to go to camp half blood. the last memory he had of camp was not a welcomed one. plus, after what he experienced on tour, he could think of a million other ways to spend his summer months, and living at a camp with spotty cell service and designated arts and crafts time was nowhere near the top of the list. 

“yo, castellan,” chris’ voice snapped luke out of his thoughts. “you comin?”

luke put out his cigarette against the wood of his desk, “huh?”

“we’re grabbing food, do you wanna go with us?”

luke hopped off the desk, slipping on his black, puffer jacket, “yeah, i’m right behind you.” 

as luke was walking out of the dressing room, adjusting his t-shirt, he saw his mom talking to teddy, their publicist. they were engaged in a serious conversation, no doubt talking about the press release regarding their second album and their hiatus. luke stood in front of the door for a brief moment, a stutter in his steps, not knowing if he should interrupt.

 luke pursed his lips, deciding to jog over to his mom. 

“i think we should post it on the band accounts first before the boys announce it individually. it make–” may furrowed her eyebrows, noticing luke coming closer to her. she turned her body to face him. she looked much calmer now than she did during rehearsals, “hey, what’s wrong?” 

luke shook his head, “nothin’, mom. i just–uh, just wanted to say sorry again.”

“let’s talk later, may,” teddy gave the two of them a small smile before walking away. 

“i’m not changing my mind about camp half blood,” she frowned. “sorry, luke but i can’t have you guys running around all sum–”

“no, no, i know, mom. i-i didn’t come here to try to convince you,” luke looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling like a little boy again. “i just– uh, shit. okay, i’m sorry for toronto. it was a bad time and it’s not fair that you have to deal with the fall out of our shit. and uh– thank you for sticking by us even though we drive you kinda crazy.” 

may laughed, smiling at her son, “you’re my kid. you know i’ll always be there to set you straight.” 

“thanks, mom,” luke chuckled, backing away to catch up with his bandmates. may waved goodbye, making her way to teddy’s makeshift office. before luke left the tunnel, he turned around, “wait mom! last thing!” 

she raised her eyebrows, “what?” 

luke raised his hand in a thumbs-up motion, grinning from ear to ear, “love you!” 

“i love you too, kiddo,” may replied, a hand over her heart. “now scram, i gotta clean up your mess.” 

[keyotos]

i am absolutely in love with ur writing AND with gepard landau,, can i request a first kiss fic for him? i read your kiss the girl fic for dan heng and ITS SO GOOD!! tysm in advance, take care of yourself!

teenage dream

summary ⎯ gepard knows he can't keep these feelings to himself. gepard also knows that he can never tell you about how he feels. so, he goes to the person he tells all his secrets to: serval. serval, who told pela. pela, who is determined to set you two up. and doing so, entails a bookish adventure for you to enjoy.

tana's words ⎯ i too am in love with gepard. i feel u anon. also thank u for the kind words!

tags ⎯ matchmaking (serval and pela). first kiss. pining (this should be expected). bookish!reader. bookstore owner!reader. oblivious idiots.

IT’S EXTREMELY SURPRISING TO HEAR GEPARD frantically knocking on the doors of nevermore workshop, so serval obviously had to open the doors for him.

when he entered, gepard immediately shut the doors as if he was being followed. the expression on his face was dire; he looked as if he was chased by wolves and he was being hunted down.

“gepard?” serval asked, concern dripping in her tone, “what the hell happened?”

“serval,” gepard panted. serval was getting worried; this was all irregular behavior coming from gepard, “i need help.”

gepard never asked for help. he is one of the most self-sufficient and stubborn people serval knows. he would rather stare death in the face instead of asking someone for help.

“what is it?” serval rushed by his side, “whatever you need, i got you.”

“i think i have feelings for,” gepard sighed, palm dragging across his face, “the owner of the bookstore,” he finishes quietly.

serval’s jaw dropped. it wasn’t because of the declaration of gepard’s crush. it was that he made it sound so dramatic. serval thought that he was being tracked down and was about to be sent to the madhouse.

“are you serious!” serval shoved gepard, “i thought you were about to die or something!”

gepard recoiled at serval’s shove; his sister was stronger than most people thought, “it feels like i am! every time i’m around them my heart rate quickens so much that i think i’m about to have a heart attack. i get all nervous on the inside and i can barely think with them beside me.”

aeons, gepard has definitely fallen in love with you.

“wait⎯so, where are you gonna go from here?” serval leaned on the counter, trying to process all the words her brother confessed.

“that’s the thing,” gepard sighed again. he sounded like a lovesick puppy, “i don’t know. that’s why i came here, i thought you’d be able to help.”

“um. you are aware of my past relationship with cocolia, right? i think i’m like the least qualified person you should be asking romance advice from,” serval pointed out.

“i don’t know who else i could tell,” gepard ran a hand through his hair. this was really stressing him out.

“how about you just… tell them?” serval suggested.

“no!!” gepard shook his head distraughtly, “i can’t do that. what if they don’t feel the same?”

“then it’s not meant to be,” serval said, “simple as that.”

“but it’s not,” gepard whined. serval thought he was making this a lot more complicated than it needed to be. when she was his age, she confessed her feelings to cocolia like it was nothing. they were happy until the break up anyway.

but then it donned on serval. gepard had little to no relationship experience. the only “experience” serval remembers him having was when they were children: his friend had a crush on him and tried to confessed, but gepard rejected her.

that’s why gepard was so distressed. he had no idea how to go on with this. these feelings for you? all new. what he missed out as a teenager, he is now getting as an adult.

“tell you what,” serval wrapped her arm around her brother’s shoulder, “i’ll get this sorted out. trust me. yn will never know about this,” she reassured him.

“you just go along with your guardly duties. i’ll help you,” serval grinned. she knew that she had the perfect plan. except, she couldn’t do it alone.

pela already knew about your crush on the silvermane guard captain. every time he greeted the two of you at the book store, pela practically saw the hearts in your eyes. it was sickening and disgusting, but it was cute too.

what pela didn’t know, however, was that gepard has a crush on you as well.

serval came to pela just a few minutes after gepard’s confession. she knew that she probably shouldn’t have told pela right after the conversation happened, but serval didn’t know how else to console gepard.

“so… you’re telling me that they both like each other?!” serval slammed her hands on the counter. “and they’re both too scared to confess!?”

“that’s exactly what i said, yes,” pela monotonously replied.

you knew that there couldn’t be anything between you and gepard. it was highly improbable that you, a bookstore owner, would be able to gain the captain of the silvermane guard’s interest. it seemed like something straight out of a fictional (key word: fictional) romance novel.

so you appreciated his friendship while he was around. sometimes, as a way to become closer to the captain, you’d suggest different books to him every week. despite being on the front lines quite often, he always comes back to see you. well, he comes back for the books anyway.

serval groaned into her hands, “so what do we do? they both like each other but they literally can’t bear to admit it.”

pela smirked. she’s read enough romance novels to figure out what to do next.

“two words, serval,” pela smirked, “grand. gesture.”

gepard took a few deep breaths before approaching your book store. after his chat with serval, he's been distressed the entire day. he had these feelings for you storming all over his body; occasionally, they'd get so strong that it would feel like those feelings would overtake him.

he opened the door, book in hand, and greeted you formally. gepard couldn't help it: he was so nervous, he wasn't able to function straight.

"hello, captain gepard," you turned around. you were on a latter stacking books on top of bookshelves. originally, you thought it would be cool to have towering shelves, however you quickly learned that it was extremely impractical and difficult.

"i told you," gepard stood near the counter, refusing to slouch in your presence, "you can call me gepard."

"and i told you," you grunted, trying to reach a higher spot on a shelf, "to drop the formalities," you grinned to yourself.

gepard noticed your (potentially) perilous situation and quickly got near the end of the latter. in the case that you fall, at least gepard would be there to catch you.

fortunately, you made your way down the tall latter peacefully. as you descended, the sight of gepard holding down the latter for you made you flush. it was the bare minimum, but it still made your heart speed up.

when he reached out his hand to guide you down (it was out of instinct), you gave him a warm smile. it looked easy on the outside, but you were burning up on the inside. similarly, gepard had the same reaction. for you, he'd do anything.

"thank you," you held onto his hand for a little longer. once you realized what you were doing you quickly recoiled your hand away and apologized. gepard wished your hand was still entwined with his; he wanted to hold onto to the feeling of your hand in his. gepard wanted to trace patterns on your hands, wanted to feel every part of them.

as an attempt to dissipate the tension (it was making you nervous), you decided to ask gepard for help. "we had a busy day yesterday. a best seller recently came out; people were storming the shelves. good for my profit but not good for my sanity," you let out an airy laugh, "would you mind helping me clean up?"

realizing what you just did (asking the captain of the silvermane guards for help) you quickly added, "unless you're busy! then i'll be okay. you can leave. i'll be fine," you rambled.

gepard parted his lips, almost as if he was about to say something. how could you ever think he wouldn't make time for you? even so, he'd deploy a few other guards if you needed help. he'd make sure your needs were met as soon as possible.

he reached his arm out; his hands were close to your collarbone. then he reached back, scared of what would happen next. how silly. the captain of the silvermane guards was not scared of no monster, but of rejection of the one he likes.

"i'll stay for anything," gepard blurted. you were taken aback for a second, but then once you realized what he had just said, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and covertly pinched yourself to make sure that whatever was happening was not a dream.

gepard didn't intend to add, "anything," to his sentence. but his mind was thinking it, and then it just accidentally came out. he meant what he said though. if the bluntness of his voice didn't show his sincerity, the blush that was slowly grazing his face probably did.

"thank you, gepard," you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from beaming too hard. you had to turn away from the captain once again, for your smile at his words would be too embarrassing to show. how silly of you to act so giddy and childish at one simple word.

gepard thinks he could hear you say his name a million times, and he would never get bored. he wants to hear his name on your lips as if it were a mantra; you've said his name a few times before, and each time he swears he gets more and more addicted to the sound.

"how about i start on the right and you'll start on the left. that way, we'll both finish in the middle!" you clapped your hands together. you gave gepard a reassuring smile.

you two started on opposite sides, but how gepard wished that you two would be closer. however, there are positives to this situation. gepard can brainstorm ideas for the "grand gesture" pela and serval texted him about.

gepard already had ideas in mind. he just needed to figure out the material for them. he obviously will not tear out papers from a book; that will cause more harm than good (for you and gepard; he cares about books).

while gepard was planning, you were blushing. you still couldn't believe he actually stayed with you. surely, there are more important deeds than helping out a leisurely bookstore owner. and this was the most boring task ever: organizing books. yet, gepard was still here. and he was only a few feet away from you.

you turned back to observe gepard; you wanted to see if you had trapped him in a boring task or not. to your surprise, gepard seemed to be enjoying this. he would flip through pages of various books, spend time reading the summaries; gepard would even go as far to reading the first few pages of some books.

gepard liked to read. at first, he started coming to the bookstore to fetch some books for pela. however, after he met you, he began to adopt a newfound interest in books that he never had before. he read some of pela's books, discovered that he did not like them, and went to browse for more. that's when you came up. you thought you had talked his entire ear off that entire morning; you went on and on and on about what kind of books he would like.

you tried to ignore him afterwards; you even offered the books for free because you were so embarrassed. but gepard kept coming back. your recommendations impressed him: gepard had never met anyone who was so meticulous at their craft. and he loved hearing you talk. he loved your rambles, your rants, your reviews. maybe that was the first sign.

gepard caught your gaze as he turned around. he had the same motivation as you: he wanted to see how you were faring in this task. did you miss the proximity you had before? are you flustered as well? do you like him too?

you two were both staring at each other, thoughts racing, until you shouted, "see something you like?" to break the tension.

gepard thought the question was a taunt at first; similar to asking, "like what you see?"

"no!" he abruptly shouted, trying to hide the fact that he was just staring at you. and then he realized the real meaning of your question: he was browsing the books with such intensity. the truth was, he was trying to find your favorite books. you've informed him about them before, always on your bookish rants. he was going to use them for his gesture later on.

thinking that he now looks like an idiot, gepard tries to save himself by shouting back, "i mean⎯ yes! i do. these books are nice," he tried to cover up.

you seemed not to register his mistake, as you tell him, "whatever you want, it's on the house. for your work today. it'll be on the house for life!" you put some books on some shelves and move closer to the middle.

gepard shook his head and chuckled, "you've always given books to me for free." he put some books back and continued around the room.

"are you complaining?" you raised an eyebrow, "what if i just kept a tab on you this entire time? and you never knew?" more books get put away.

"then i'd rightfully pay you back," gepard wholeheartedly responded, "or i'd arrest you," he joked.

you mock-gasped, "for what?" you're getting closer to the middle now.

stealing my heart, the intrusive part of gepard's mind thought. he'd been hanging out with serval too much; he would never say that. gepard internally cringed.

"false advertising," he moved closer to the middle, “i don't know," he smiled to himself. gepard doesn't think he would have the heart to arrest you.

you blushed at hearing the captain lost on amendments. the captain wouldn't know how to arrest you. is this flirting? or are you reading too much into it?

you don't know if the heat on the back of your neck is from gepard's words or the sun shining so brightly on the back of your neck. you stack some more books on shelves; you've now reached the middle. you're having trouble reaching one of the shelves, but you're too lost in your thoughts to even think about that.

in fact, you're too lost in your thoughts that you don't even notice the warmth disappear from the back of your neck. your cheeks are still warm, so you are still blushing. your struggles with the tall bookshelf are lost when you feel a hand over yours.

"i'll take that," gepard quietly mumbles. it's so quiet that you didn't hear it at first.

on instinct, you turn towards him. when you looked at the position the both of you were in, you noticed that you were caged against him. you were caged against the captain of the silvermane guards. against a bookshelf.

gepard towered over you. his body was centimeters closer to fully pressing on you. his breath was fanning on your face. you could see every detail of his face from your view from below. your hands were so close to grazing his chest, so you immediately slapped them to your sides. you gulp, you start to breath quicker, and you feel like you're about to combust.

you swallowed, trying not to move. you were frozen in place as you tried not to disturb gepard. you gaped at him as he was working to organize the books, not noticing the position the two of you were in.

when gepard finished, he gave a sigh of relief. he underestimated your job: if you had to do this every day, you were probably stronger than some of his soldiers. when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by your wide eyes staring right into his.

he was breath-taken by your beauty. the look in your eyes as you look into his was captivating. gepard needed it framed. the way your lips parted made him go feral; his heart stuttered with every second he looked at you.

his arm was pinned above your head. your bodies were so close that you kept focusing on the rise and fall of gepard’s chest. the way his expression scanned yours made you want to quiver against him.

you said the first sentence, “hard work?” your tone was breathless. you were still trying to catch your breath.

“yeah,” he sighed, still not noticing the way your bodies curved into each other, “hard work.”

“did i waste your time?” you whispered. it was quiet, like you were ashamed of your actions. you looked down at his chest rather than his face.

“no,” gepard leaned in, trying to hear your voice one more time. he tilted your head up slightly with his fingers so you could look at him, “you’d never.”

silence crippled the room. it was just you and gepard, the two of you leaning oh-so-close together that your lips were nearly about to touch. a part of you wanted to lean into him; you wanted to pull him closer and closer until you were both out of breath.

but that was delusional. that was something straight out of romance novels, and your life was anything but.

gepard leaned in closer on purpose. he gave into temptation and wanted to feel your lips on his. he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you so tightly into him. he wanted this: he wanted your kiss, he wanted your insight, he wanted you.

but with gepard, want is not something one could have. especially one like him.

“i’m sorry,” he abruptly let go, “i’m⎯i think, i have something i need to do,” he took a few steps back away from you, leaving about three feet in distance. quite the opposite from how you two were positioned a few seconds ago.

“oh,” you let go immediately. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know,” you quickly ran to the other side of the room. you wanted to hide from embarrassment.

“not your fault!” gepard shouted as he headed for the exit, “goodbye mx yn!”

you didn’t bother to say goodbye as you slammed the door shut after he left. what just happened was mortifying. the position you two were in? the way you two gradually leaned closer to each other? no wonder he ran away, you thought, you must’ve scared him off.

oh, if only you knew how wrong you were.

you didn't see gepard for a week after the incident. he hadn't come into the bookstore at all the entire week. however, that also could've been your fault: you've been in and out of the bookstore for the past week. if you faced gepard after the incident (you've dubbed), you'd probably apologize and beg for forgiveness.

but still, wouldn't he come in and leave a note? wouldn't he at least stop by once? did you scare him off that badly? the more you thought about it, the more you thought about becoming a hermit.

you'd thought you terrified him and ruined your friendship (and any future hope of a relationship) until flowers appeared on the counter of the bookstore. your assistant refused to let you know who they were from.

you bent down and eyed the pot of flowers sitting on the counter. they were your favorite color: pink. you had to admit, they were gorgeous. they looked well grown, as if these were from a master gardener. the flowers bloomed perfectly, each petal reaching out for the sun.

the message of the flowers also intrigued you. begonias are the flowers that symbolizes knowledge and deep thoughts. whoever gifted these to you must have been very observant or they wanted to be your intern.

"did someone come by asking to be my intern?" you stood up and put your hands on your hips. your lip twisted in thought. you were a bit preoccupied at the moment; the bookstore was getting exceptionally busy and (with your whole gepard crisis going on) you didn't think you were fit to be a mentor at the moment.

"no," your assistant shook her head. you leaned back on the counter, wondering why (and who) would gift you flowers on such a strange day. you already knew it wasn't gepard, due to the awkward tension surrounding the both of you right now, so you had a big list to narrow down.

"but," your assistant continued, "someone dropped off this letter with the flowers. they told me to give it to you after you saw the flowers," your assistant handed you the letter.

it was very formal, the letter. it's envelope was very extravagant, fit for someone with high standards. the stamp was still warm, meaning that this letter had been written recently. you tore open the envelope to reveal it's contents.

yn,

please do me the honor of accompanying me to everwinter cafe tonight. i would really appreciate seeing you there.

gl

"g.l." you paused, "as in green lantern?!" you asked your assistant, wide eyes and all. "who is trying to cosplay as a superhero to talk to me? this is insane. did i owe someone a book or something? charged them extra?" you panicked.

your assistant frowned at your idiocy. who else could 'gl' entail to besides gepard landau? "what if it's the captain," your assistant urged on, nudging your shoulder.

"it couldn't be the captain," you jolted. does your assistant know? "we barely even talk," you try to reason.

"he comes in here nearly every day," your assistant counters, "if not every day, be it every other day," they sighed.

"he just comes in to look at books," you placed the flowers in a safe space in the shelves. "we don't converse as often as you think."

"you talk every day," you assistant drags on. "you're telling me that the two of you have no relations whatsoever?"

"we⎯it's complicated," you sighed, "long story short, it could never be the captain," you looked down at the plant. even if it was gepard, what was he doing? sending anonymous flowers? cryptic notes? why couldn't he just talk to you?

"you should go," your assistant encouraged, "you never know. it could be the captain or it could be another potential secret admirer."

"you think?" you raised an eyebrow. your assistant nodded in response.

you looked at the flowers one more time. though you wished it was gepard who sent them, you knew it was probably someone else trying to flatter you into taking them in as an intern. but as you stared at the begonias, no other thoughts beside gepard consumed your mind

it was late when you walked to everwinter cafe. tonight was not a particularly chilly night, but belobog's slight chill was ever present.

you walked around aimlessly, trying to walk slowly so you can prolong the sight of your "intern." you tried to focus on other things as you walked past, such as the plants and heaters surrounding the city. it's wondrous how things such as plants are still able to flourish in times like these.

as you viewed your surroundings, you saw a note placed on a lamppost close to the cafe. it read, "'i know you're working. i wanted to be somewhere...' safe? familiar? comfortable? 'near you.'

you automatically knew which book that quote was from. book lovers by emily henry. it was your favorite romance book; you've raved about it many times with gepard.

as you continued, you saw another note, "'if you saw yourself the way other people see you, you'd never doubt again.' 'how do people see me?' 'like you're the most beautiful, most remarkable, thing they've ever seen."

you must admit, you blushed a little bit while internally reading that. the only reason you blushed was that because you discussed that quote with gepard. you were talking about the 'twisted' series and how it had it's pros and cons with gepard, and this quote was one of the pros.

another read, "'who are they? the best part of my day.'"

another, "books she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives."

and the last, "'favorite word?' 'you.'"

you quickly noticed that these were all quotes from your favorite books. these are books you've only discussed and rambled about with one person: gepard. you'd never thought he would've actually read these books. let alone, you'd never thought gepard would also quote them.

with slightly more hope than before, you ran up to everwinter cafe.

"did you get my message?" gepard stood tall in front of you. you couldn't look into his eyes and it was killing him.

"your letter? yes, i did. and your flowers too. they were beautiful," you rocked back and forth on your heels.

"thank you, i grew them myself," he gave you a soft smile. you wanted to talk about how he managed to even grow such beautiful flowers, but how could you talk to him if you couldn't even look at him in the eyes? "but, did you get my message?"

you looked down at the many notes in your hand. it turns out gepard had left notes after all, "oh yes. i did," you blushed at the obvious context of the quotes. "all my favorite books."

"yeah," gepard spoke breathlessly, as if all of his air had run out after he started speaking to you, "but did you get my message?" he looked at your face for any type of indication: whether you liked him back, hated him, or had no strong feelings towards him. his eyes darted throughout your face, and the sight made you slightly flustered. he was leaning over you, and you thought you saw his eyes graze over your lips.

then it donned on you. the flowers. the letter. the sneaking out at night. the romantic context of all the quotes. the way all the quotes were from your favorite books that you've only talked about with him. the way gepard has admired and remembered every single thing about you. your stomach dropped as you realized gepard had been feeling the same things you have felt for him this entire time. your heart pounded in your chest as you finally met his eyes in the pale moonlight.

"yes," you swiftly exhaled. it was like all your hidden feelings for gepard were compacted in your chest, and when you finally breathed, they were all let out. it was like all your troubles were leaving you, "i did."

"and..." gepard trailed off, now failing to meet you in the eyes. he was terrified of your rejection; your opinion was one of the things that mattered most to him. before, he regarded it was his passion for the people, but now he recognizes that he was just passionate for you. "did you like it?"

"i loved it," you smiled; it wasn't just a soft smile this time, like the ones you've always given him. it was a big smile: loud and talkative, much like you. one smile could convey so much.

but you still had thoughts, "i didn't need all of this though," you grabbed his hand for reassurance. you were in range of his lips. you could close the gap right now.

gepard froze; your words and your touch made him tense. he was finally able to look you in the eye, having prepared himself for iminent rejection and was ready to leave. whatever you needed, he would do.

"what do you need?" gepard asked frantically. "whatever you need, i will give it to you. whether it be space or never seeing me again."

what you needed? you needed his thoughts, his opinions, his reassurance. you needed his touch on a cold night, you needed his arm around you when you were cold, you needed to feel him beside you on nights similar to this. you needed everything that he was.

"i need you," you whispered up on his lips. "right now."

and gepard swore the entirety of everwinter city heard his heart drop to the ground. he was sure that you could feel his heart pounding in his chest after you said those five words. only five words, yet gepard felt like he was going insane. he was going insane for you: your touch, your mind, your words, your entirety.

gepard removed his hand from yours for just one second, using it to tip your chin up so you could be in his view. in the pale moonlight, you were gorgeous. to be fair, you were always gorgeous, but something about tonight extenuated your beauty.

"can i⎯"

"don't even ask," you cut him off, leaning into him.

the kiss was soft and sweet at first. the feeling of your lips pressed onto his was heavenly: gepard felt ten times stronger with you than with anything else. it was gentle and tender.

but when you tugged your arms around his neck, all restraint went out the window.

gepard moved his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you closer into him. it was bold for his first kiss, but who could blame him when you're holding onto to him so tightly?

you threaded your hands through his hair as he kissed you feverishly. his hands on your waist made you want to combust into him. you were standing on your toes at this point; if you tried to stand any taller, gepard was about to lift you up into the air.

when you finally stopped to breath, all that was left in the air was your love and the light from the sky.

"was i your first kiss?" you asked him coyly, arms still wrapped around his neck.

gepard blushed and you immediately knew his answer to your question. you stood up one more time to give him one more quick kiss.

yes, you were his first kiss. and gepard wished for more to come.

i need a week off after this fic i swear to god

[4only1]

Last Christmas - Secret Santa Part 4 (Final Part)

Featuring: Gun Park, Goo Kim, DG/James Lee, Jibeom + Jihan Kwak & Hudson Ahn Masterlist -----------------------

Gun Park

He called you to his house, well, if you could call it a house. You actually wouldn’t, it’s really more of a shack, but let’s not digress. You were glad you bundled up, the chill of December’s air prickled your skin. Looking over at Gun, you couldn’t figure out how the man was shirtless right now. 

Perhaps it was because he was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t register the temperature. His hand moved carefully, carving away at the wood he held. The only sound heard was the knife scraping, shaving away to make a shape.

It wasn’t until Gun put the knife down, that you even realized he was done. He took a moment, turning the wooden statue around, scanning for imperfections, before handing it towards you.

You grabbed the stature, following Gun’s lead, and admiring the statue. It took a few seconds, but you noticed how familiar the statue looked. Gun watched as the gears turned in your head, happy that you recognized what he was trying to make.

He carved a little statue of you. 

The silence between you two continued as you admired how good the statue looked. No thanks were needed from you, Gun knew you appreciated it. He could tell by the sparkle in your eyes.

----------------------- Goo Kim

“Hey, HEY BE GENTLE! I got that limited edition and I am letting you hold it, be grateful.” Goo’s voice somehow was more high pitched than usual. He was also being more dramatic than usual.

He hadn’t even let you hold the gift he got you before yelling about how you needed to take care of it. His hands held a precious manga, one that you had mentioned you would like to read. 

It was difficult to find the first volume due to the older age of the series. When you did find the manga, it was quite a hefty price. Lucky you that the man in front of you happens to own the first volume and was graciously gifting it to you. 

If he got over his fit though.

Despite saying he was gifting it to you, he refused to even let it go, holding the manga close to his chest like a child would when asked to share their toy. Goo did act like a child.

“Goo give me the manga, you said it was my gift, stop hogging” You spoke, lunging forward, hands grabbing onto the manga, tugging it towards you.

Despite this, Goo didn’t let go, leading to a tug of war between the two of you for the manga.

“Let go!”

“No it was mine first, I don’t have to give it to you”

“Are you kidding me, I’m telling Gun!”

“TATTLETALE”

“YAAAA”  “YAAA”

Now you both sounded like children.

----------------------- DG/James Lee

DG had thought long and hard about what to give you. Like with everything he did, he planned out every scenario. How would you react to this or would this feel important enough to you?

For a secret santa, he was taking it very seriously. If he were still James Lee, he would have just thrown you a lollipop before walking away. But no, he was no longer that teenager who went about excelling at everything with little effort. He wasn’t about to half ass your gift.

Which brought him to the current dilemma. He had handed you the gift, the one he had spent much thought on, only to be greeted by disapproval on your face.

Disappointment was a better word to describe the emotions you felt when you opened the gift. This man, who was a successful Kpop idol and owned a company, got you an album. His album. His signed album.

He didn’t even write a special message on it, just his stupid signature.

You look at him, lips pressed thin and eyes squinted, shaking your head back and forth. You were clearly disappointed. 

“You know, a signed album only means something if you actually listen to that person’s music. But thanks, I’ll sell this for lots of money.”

Ah, he should have just got you money. That was the obvious choice.

----------------------- Jibeom & Jihan Kwak

Turns out, the Jibeom & Jihan decided it would be best to team up for secret santa. Afterall, what’s better than getting one gift from two people? Probably getting two gifts from two people but let’s not complain. 

It took the two brother’s a lot of thinking to figure out what to get you. They didn’t even ask Jichang for help!

You wish they did.

They stood, side by side in front of you, hiding something behind their back. Each of them had a smile, well, smirk, on their face.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands” Jihan tells you, so you do.

“This gift is great to take a bath with. The nutrients soak right into your skin.” Jibeom informs you, as your gift is placed in your hands.

You let out a scream as you opened your eyes to see what they had given you.

A snake. A dead snake, but it was still a snake.

You threw your hands up, launching the snake far away, almost prompting Jibeom to chase after it.

“Are you kidding me! What kind of gift is that?” Your yelling caused Jichang to emerge from the nearby building, quickly piecing together what had transpired. 

Soon, the brother’s were on their knees, hands in the air, taking a scolding from Jichang about how terrible of a gift they got you. He made them promise to get you another, better, gift.

You didn’t trust them.

----------------------- Hudson Ahn

“So, what did you get me?” You eagerly ask, clapping your hands together in anticipation.

You didn’t notice the way Hudson swallowed his nerves. His calm demeanor remained on the outside, not showing a hint of worry. He had dragged you along to his master, Taesoo Ma’s, mountain. You assumed he was about to hand you the gift he got. 

A little bird named Jacky told you Hudson pulled your name in the secret santa. You were excited to see what the gift would be. He didn’t appear to bring anything with him, so perhaps it was something small.

Taesoo read Hudson like a book, noting the boy's slight tells that showed he was worried. Hudson took a deep breath before facing you, attempting to pose cool. Ya know, legs spread, elbow on his knee, strong eye contact, nonchalant expression.

“In Ansan, no one comes close to your level, you are unique and exceptional. I am lucky to know you. I gift you 100 points, making you one of Ansan’s finest.” 

Silence is all that followed as you and Taesoo just stared at the boy. The silence lasted a good minute, before you spoke.

“You forgot to get me anything and didn’t remember until I asked you, didn’t you?”

Again silence, until Hudson spoke again.

“Another 100 points”

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

As you returned home, your eyes gazed over at the pile of gifts you had received for secret santa. The results were…results. You could have done better, maybe next time you will provide clearer rules and a wishlist so people actually get you something you want.

The real question though, is how did all these people manage to pull your name in secret santa?

You didn’t put it in 26 times for nothing.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Welcome to the final part of the secret santa. This was just a fun little series I wanted to do for the holiday's and I am happy with the way it turned out

Fun Facts about the series

I wrote the first three parts before I posted part 1. Part 4 was written while I published each part because I just couldn't figure out Goo or DG.

My favourite part to write was part 2 or 3

Part 4 was originally just going to include just Jihan and not Jibeom, but I decided it made the scenario more fun if I included both.

The very first character's part I wrote was Daniel's and the last was Goo's.

I think the hardest character to write for was DG.

The character I had the most fun writing were Jake, Samuel, Jerry, Gongseob, Jibeom/Jihan & Hudson.

Easiest to write for: Jibeom & Jihan

Hardest to write for: DG (I do not know this man)

[lailols]

Txt when you share a New Year’s kiss

If you see any mistakes, no you didn’t. Also Happy New Year! <33

Soobin

You look over at Soobin when there are five minutes left til midnight and find his eyes already on you. He smiles softly, nodding his head to the door. You both get up and head out together. You thought it would be a smooth operation until you heard a yell behind you.

“Look, guys! Mom and Dad are off to make out while their kids are distracted.” It’s Beomgyu, of course, it’s Beomgyu. You have to pull Soobin out of the room before he turns around to wrestle him because tradition is tradition damnit, and you’re already late.

As soon as the door closes, Soobin releases a heavy sigh and runs a hand down his face.

“Don’t mind him, Bin.” You place a hand on his arm. “I mean, it’s not like he’s wrong.”

“We’re not making out.” He emphasizes and his next words make your heart ache despite their truth. “It’s been the same every year since we were 15 and it’s never been like that.”

For the last nine years, you and Soobin have shared a New Year’s kiss. It started out when you were teenagers at a party, and everyone had a person to kiss except you two (not that you wanted to kiss anyone else, even then). It was an easy decision then, and it has remained the same until now.

“We all know that. He just likes to tease you.” You say with a strained smile. “I don’t know why you get so upset over it.”

“I get upset because it makes you uncomfortable when they say shit like that.” Your brows pinch together in confusion.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I’ve known you for nearly our entire lives. It makes you uncomfortable, I know it does.” He scoffs. “You always laugh it off and joke along but after you clench your jaw and get quiet. Every time.”

“Well, maybe it makes me uncomfortable.” You look away from him. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“What else am I meant to think? I've never seen you get as uncomfortable as you do when they bring it up.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “There’s nothing wrong with being uncomfortable with it, y/n. It’s okay, really.”

And just as Soobin knows you, you know him. You see the way his eyes glaze over as if he’s about to cry. You see the line of his shoulders go tight. You see the way his dimples pop out from the tense set of his lips.

“Soobin…”

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m fine with the way things are now. I would never pressure you into anything but it hurts." He opens his mouth again to continue before shaking his head and falling silent.

“I am uncomfortable when they bring it up.” You hesitate a bit at the way he deflates with your words. “But only because I know you don’t want me in that way. When they say it, it makes me imagine a world where you’re mine and I’m yours and it makes me sad.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” You then hear the sound of fireworks going off and you shake your head. “We missed it. Our tradition..”

“I’m okay with that.” He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. “I don’t need the excuse of New Year to kiss you anymore.”

“I really liked it though.” You pout up at him dramatically.

"Are you really going to complain when I can kiss you like this instead?" He marks his words by pressing your lips together gently once before pulling back to tilt your head and then diving in again. His hands cradle the sides of your face and he bites down on your bottom lip making you gasp. He takes advantage of the gap by sliding his tongue inside your mouth and mapping out the newfound space. He meets your moan with a sigh of his own and just as his hands start moving lower you’re interrupted by a shout.

"They really are making out!" Your heads snap to see Beomgyu peeking out the door. You don't even bother to hold Soobin back from grabbing Beomgyu by the hair and pulling him into a headlock.

Yeonjun

You’re having the time of your life on the dance floor. If the middle of a frat house counts as one. It may be a bit too hot and sweaty for your usual tastes, but the two drinks you had gave you a wonderful buzz that makes the night enjoyable. You’ll probably need more soon though…

You danced with Yeonjun until he was surrounded by a group of people each vying for a chance to be his New Year’s kiss. You went through this same song and dance the past few years. Yeonjun drags you to this same house on New Year’s Eve, you drink and dance together, he gets swarmed by admirers, he picks one to welcome the new year, and then you go home together.

You wonder which type he’ll pick this year. The shy type that only approached him with some liquid courage. The bold type that made eye contact with him the minute he walked in. Or some secret third type that is lying in wait. You briefly wonder if this will be the year your heart stops breaking when he inevitably picks someone who isn’t you.

You hadn’t always been one of his many admirers. You kind of hated him out of principle before you got to know him. Until you found out that he wasn’t some pompous asshole, but just a guy that carries himself with a confidence that is well deserved. That he was such a mother hen to your friend group. That he was just as scared of the ‘real world’ as the rest of you. That he was moved by the smallest things. That, yes, he was as cool as everyone insisted. That-

Your musings are cut off by a tap on your shoulder. You turn to find Yeonjun? It’s a surprise that is unexpected but not unwelcome.

“Hey, Junie. What’s up? Did you find someone already?” You smile at him despite the way your heart breaks.

“Not exactly. Can you come here for a second?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before grabbing your hand and leading you outside.

“Sure?” You doubt your words matter much since you’re following him anyway. You allow him to pull you through the doors and out to the backyard before planting your feet and pulling him back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to get out of there.” His words set off more alarms in your head rather than easing you.

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing, I just… wanted to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your heart warms at his words and though you try to suppress a smile, you can feel your lips curling up. “Well, I’m here, what’s up?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“No.” Your words are immediate and they shock Yeonjun almost as much as they shock you.

“Oh.” Yeonjun fumbles for a bit, which is out of character for him but his words are also out of character so what do you know? “That’s fine, of course, but um, why not?”

“I- um” You’re also fumbling but this is very in character for you, so you pay it no mind. “I’d like for it to mean something? I think. Not that there’s anything wrong with it but, um, yeah. I can't do casual.”

“It doesn’t have to be casual.”

“What? You can’t just say that to get me to kiss you.”

“You really think that low of me? That I’d do something like that?”

“Well, no. But it makes more sense than..” you wanting me goes unsaid but from his reaction, you’re sure he got it.

“Of course, I want to be with you. I was just overthinking it.”

“Why do it now?”

He sports a bashful smile when he answers. “I think an anniversary on the New Year would be cute, y’know? New Year, New Us, and all that. Imagine the posts we could make.”

“That’s so you. I almost hate it.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Yeah yeah, so are you gonna kiss me or not?” His hands find your waist and pull you closer.

“I guess I can spare a kiss or two.” Your eyes flutter closed when your lips meet. The kiss starts light with smiles and giggles exchanged more than actual kisses. It's odd because Yeonjun, from what you've heard, wastes no time in getting to the point. Right now he’s just savoring the moment, letting himself smile and laugh with you as if you have all the time in the world (you do, you’d give him everything if you could).

Beomgyu

“I wish we could be frozen in this moment together forever.”

“Why?”

“So nothing would change.” At your words, Beomgyu flips onto his side, facing you.

“What if things changed for the better?” You turn to meet his eyes and see a world of emotions in them. “Change doesn’t have to be scary.”

“Change is always scary.” You bring a hand up to trace the squares of the blanket to distract yourself. “There’s so much uncertainty in change. But if we stay here like this, we don’t have to be afraid.”

"I'm not afraid because I know we'll always have each other." He grabs your hand before he speaks again, drawing your eyes up to his. He then goes on to say something you’ve heard before. "Things will change, we can't stop that, but we will always be together."

“You don’t know that.” You remember this from your talk too. The way his every word was met by a denial from you. Not because you don’t want him, but because you’re scared. You can’t lose him. Why can’t he see that?

“I do.” He says it with such passion that it makes you want to believe him. Oh, how you want to.

“How do you know that? How are you so sure?” You sit up so he doesn’t see the tears pooling in your eyes. “I don’t want to lose you. I’d rather have you like this and know that nothing will change than risk it.”

“Why are you giving up on this- on us before we even try?” He sits up too. “Y/n, I wouldn’t pressure you if I didn’t know you felt the same. I still feel shitty doing it now but- I just- I want to be with you. I love being friends but I just know we’d work well as more. And I know you feel the same.”

“What if we break up? What if we end up hating each other? We’re good now- great even. Are you really willing to risk it? Just to call me yours?”

“I am. I can’t tell you that we’d never break up, but I can tell you that I would never just let you go. I love you, y/n. Even if we broke up, I’d still want to be in your life. And I know you feel the same.”

“I’m just scared, Gyu.”

“I know, but why don’t we just try? If it works then great and if it doesn’t then it would make a great speech at our weddings.” His words pull a laugh out of you.

“Right. ‘So glad to see you marrying the love of my life! Don’t worry, we tried it out and it didn’t work so you don’t have to worry about me!’” You let out some more giggles until you realize Beomgyu isn’t laughing along with you. He’s just staring at you with wide eyes. “What’s wrong, Beomie?”

“You love me?”

“Of course, I love you. I’ve told you this before.”

“Yeah, but never like that.”

“You said you knew how I felt.”

“I do. But it’s different to hear it, y’know?” He smiles a bit. “It makes it feel real.”

“It is real, Gyu. It’s always been real. I think that’s why it’s so scary for me.”

“Well, I think you just need a big strong man to chase away those fears.”

You scrunch your nose. “When you find one can you point him in my direction?”

He lets out an offended squawk at your words but you quickly dissolve into giggles leaning on each other. It’s at this moment that you realize that while, yes, this is scary- terrifying even- maybe it won’t be so bad if it’s Beomgyu you’re going through it with. Maybe things will work out. And if they don’t you’ll just say ‘I told you so’ with tears in your eyes and a broken heart in your hands.

You look up at him from your place on his shoulder drawing his attention down. He looks at you like you’re everything, he always has. He was never good at hiding his feelings. You're surprised he waited all this time to tell you. You look down at his lips before making eye contact, hoping he’ll catch your hint. He leans in slightly before pausing and tilting his head as if asking ‘Are you sure?’. You nod slightly and that’s that.

Your lips meet in a kiss and immediately after you can hear the sound of fireworks going off. You think it’s all in your head until you remember what day it was and why you both came out here and you can't help but laugh into his lips.

“What’s so funny? Am I that bad of a kisser?” Beomgyu pouts and uses his hold on your face to bring you closer.

“We kissed for the first time and fireworks went off. That’s so cheesy.”

“I don’t think it’s cheesy. I think it’s beautiful.” It never fails to amaze you how quickly Beomgyu can switch from joking to serious in a matter of seconds. How he can go from laughs and twinkling eyes to serene and serious. You think he’s beautiful and your brain-to-mouth filter stops working for a moment.

“I think you’re beautiful.” He pauses for a bit before putting on a cocky face and shrugging but you know him. You see the way his eyes seem to glaze over and how his hand shakes slightly as he glides it over your face before tilting your head slightly. It hits you then that maybe this change is scary for him too.

Maybe it always has been. It was probably hard to bear your heart out to someone and be met with rejection and still show up as if nothing changed. You probably wouldn’t have done it. But Beomgyu has always been braver than you. You call him reckless, but you know how strong he is. How he never lets others dull his shine or make him pull back his love. You want to do right by him. You only hope he sees the same in your eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you again.” He cuts off your response (which was a rather embarrassing ‘please’) by pressing your lips together softly at first before deepening the kiss. Fireworks continue to sound off around you but this time you can't tell if they're real or all in your head.

Taehyun

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to do this.” Taehyun says looking at your phone screen displaying the countdown to midnight.

You’re both crammed under your desk with a bag of grapes waiting for the right time to begin eating them.

“I’m telling you, Tae, it really works!” You bump his shoulder with your own. “I did this last year and had the best year of my life!”

“One, you did it wrong, and two you’ve told me multiple times how this year was horrible.” He corrects with a teasing smile.

“I didn’t know there was meant to be a specific number!” You pout dramatically. “I just saw a video of a girl saying she did it and had a great year.”

“So you ate an entire bag of grapes under your desk to bring good luck?”

“And it worked!”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because I met you.” You say easily. “You even had purple hair when we met and I ate purple grapes!”

“So meeting me somehow negates that one class you cried over every homework assignment for?”

“Well, no.” You share a laugh at that. “But I genuinely do think that someone or something led me to you. I know I’ve said it a lot and you brush me off because you’re too cool to admit it but you’ve really made my year- hell, my entire life so much better since you’ve come into it.”

Taehyun’s big eyes search your face for a moment. Tracing over the lines of your serene smile and the glow in your eyes before taking a breath. “I feel the same. And while I don’t think it happened because you ate an entire bag of grapes last year, I do think we were meant to find each other when we did.”

“Not earlier?”

“God, no.”

“And why not?”

“I was a different person back then. Not unlike I am now, but I saw the world and the people in it in a different way.” He sighs looking down, seemingly collecting himself before meeting your eyes again. “I don’t know if I would’ve let you in before we met. If I would’ve opened my heart to you in the ways I have now.”

“Opened your heart?” You urge.

“Yeah. I may not be nearly as dramatic as you about it-“ he glosses over your offended ‘hey!’. “But you’ve made my year and my life so much better, too. I may not think the universe brought us together but I’m glad we met. I’m glad I get to have you like this and maybe…” He opens his mouth again before closing it. You know what he wanted to say. You’ve always known that Taehyun would be so much more to you than just a friend.

“And maybe we can be more than that.” His eyes widen a bit before closing in a smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” He catches himself. “But not right now.”

Your jaw drops and you see the way his grin widens. “Why not?”

“Our anniversary is not going to be New Year’s Eve. I refuse.”

“When will it be then?”

“You’ll find out when I ask you to be mine.”

You pour for a bit before thinking it over, moving your hand into the bag to grab a grape. “Fine. But you have to do something for me now.”

“What?”

“Since you won’t ask me out, how about we do something to hold us over?” You flick your eyes to the phone and pull him closer while holding a grape between your fingers. “Come here! Come here!”

He watches you in confusion until you put the grape between your lips and lean closer to his face. He looks at you fondly, maybe even with a whisper of love, before leaning in.

And maybe you don’t eat an entire bag of grapes under your desk alone this year, but when Taehyun’s lips meet yours around the grape and the juices spill over your chins with giggles filling the room, you just know in your heart of hearts that this year will be better than the last. You hope you can do it again with him, next year as well, and every year after that.

Kai

You are at least ninety percent sure you don't believe in love at first sight. Though in this dimly lit club on New Year's Eve, the remaining ten percent is working overtime.

It is not love that makes you look over at the man standing in the corner, you insist to yourself. Nor is it love that makes you look a second, third, or fourth time. Since it's not love, you will call it an itch. Well, maybe not an itch, that sounds weird. You'll call it an inkling.

You decidedly do not take the time to consider what that inkling could mean. You are certain it’s not love but if it’s not, why is your heart trying to beat out of your chest just from some glances?

What is it about the man standing in the corner that makes you want to approach him? Is it how his dark hair frames his face and makes him appear almost angelic? Is it the way he shuffles from foot to foot as if uncomfortable? Is it the way his friends approach him but he gives a (blinding) smile and nods for them to go back to dancing?

That inkling leads you to gather all of your confidence and make your way to him. As you’re walking towards him you make eye contact and he tenses a bit before standing straighter. ‘I could love that.’

“Hi.” You say, shooting him a smile.

“Hi.” He returns before falling silent, but that’s okay. You didn’t exactly have a script planned out, just an inkling.

“Why’re you standing here all alone?”

“Ah, I was dancing with my friends earlier,” he gestures to where four guys are standing a bit away. Maybe they were dancing before but now they’re hitting each other and making kissy faces towards you. You look back to the man but he just shakes his head and smiles fondly at them. “Sorry about them. They can be a bit…. much.”

You wonder if they tease him often. Make little jokes to get him to share that same smile and headshake every time. You wonder if he would ever turn that smile to you one day. Maybe after you get to know him, you could tease him like that and wait for that smile. ‘I could love that.’

“It’s fine. I don’t mind…” You trail off looking at him expectantly.

“Kai.”

“Well, Kai, I would like to kiss you.” You see his eyes widen and if the club wasn’t so dark, you’d probably see a flush spread across his cheeks. ‘Cute. I could love that.’

You could leave it off there. But the inkling comes back and you know that’s not all you want from him. “And maybe I could take you on a date sometime?”

"Oh."

"Is that okay?" You ask because regardless of the thoughts swirling in your head, you aren't fond of forcing yourself onto this man. Hell, you don’t even know if he’s single.

"Ye-ah, yes! That's okay. I'm okay with that." You note the way his voice cracks with his words and how his body leans into you slightly. An all too familiar bell rings in your head that sounds suspiciously like 'I could love that.'

For all the hyping up you gave it in your mind, the kiss is nothing special. There are no fireworks or cheering, and you didn't even wait for the countdown to happen. It's just you and him, kissing in the corner of a dim club. You're pretty sure at least two people have bumped into you and it's hot and you're a little sweaty. So, yeah. The kiss is no big deal. He is no big deal.

It's just the way he squeezes your waist gently before pulling you flush against his body. It's just the way he tilts his head slightly to get a better angle. It's just the way his lips are soft and sweet with the faintest hint of alcohol. It's just the way he pulls back slightly to let out a sigh just to lean into you again. When he does place space between you, it's to let out a few words.

"Wanna get out of here? Maybe go on that date?" He sports a bashful smile and that bell goes off again. 'I could love him. I could. I could.'

"I'd like that a lot."

[arminsumi]

SHOW-OFF

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

Love sick Suguru showing off during a basketball game to impress you, but it ends with him in the nurse's office with a bloody nose.

2k

Note : my mind wanted to write requests but then my fingers wrote this instead... 😅

Summary : Suguru is a college heart throb that tries so very hard to grab your attention, but he finally earns it at the worst time — during an awry basketball game, when he's on the floor with a bloody nose.

Warnings : pining, fistfight, bloody nose, some angst, suggestive joke

Playme : play date

🍒 More from Jay : GETO works / JJK works / Oct. reqs open

Suguru Geto is, theoretically and practically, the guy that every girl in this college wants. He knows this. He's experienced this. He's got endless admirers. Eyes are always on him when he walks down the corridor.

So it baffles him when you don't pay attention to him. You're a challenge, and that ropes him right in.

"Haha, she walked right past you?" Satoru laughs. They're loitering in the corridor after classes.

"She walked right past me." Suguru nods, emphasizing dramatically until he turns it into a joke — but it isn't a joke, he's genuinely irked.

During class, he pouts like he's a teenage boy again, and scribbles into the margins of his notes;

私は彼女の心の片隅にもいません。 I'm not even in the back of her mind.

He's just as bad as his best friend when it comes to seeking and basking in the attention of doting girls — if not worse. Satoru is slowly weaning off the drug of popularity as he begins attending college, but Suguru is still stuck in the odd transitional stage.

There's a lighthearted basketball competition being held amongst the burly sporty boys one day, and sitting atop the bleachers Suguru spots your face. His eyes light up, he observes you from down on the court.

The squirming you do when you sit. The way your head tilts as you speak to your friend. The curling smile you make at their jokes.

I want to make you squirm when you sit next to me.

Why can't you look at me with the same adoration?

God, if you'd smile at me like that I'd fall to pieces.

Suguru's brows are furrowed so deeply that Satoru and Shoko ask if he's brooding about you again. And sure enough, he is.

"She's just sitting there." he emphasizes annoyedly.

Satoru places a comedic, sympathetic hand on Suguru's shoulder. "Don't worry, once you start bouncing balls all over the court she'll have to look your way."

"Yeah... she's gonna be completely star struck by me playing a stupid basketball game... " Suguru scoffs sarcastically. "Why the hell did you convince me to play again...?" he mutters under his breath.

Shoko hands back Satoru's glasses, "She might be into sporty guys. So give it your all, you pathetic loser." she jokes and heads off, trotting up the bleachers.

So Suguru determinedly gives it his all, never fumbling, never tripping, never mucking up his shots. He becomes a panting, sweaty mess, and in one quick moment as he's wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his forearm, he glances at you and you glance in his general direction, but not really at him.

Did she look at me, or am I imagining things?

His heart is already racing from the intensive exercise of running back and forth on a court, but the thought of you actually watching him as he plays makes his heart thump.

The sound of squeaking shoes ricochets off the walls and polished floors. Suguru loses focus for a moment, thinking hard about you as he stares at the bleachers, and then someone collides with him. He's caught so off-guard that he just topples over and his body meets with the hard floor.

"—What the fuck!"

"—Suguru? Why are you just standing around? The hell were you staring at just now?"

You and Suguru make brief eye contact and it sets him completely off balance, both physically and mentally.

Fuck fuck fuck, she's actually looking over. Why now?

Satoru helps Suguru to his feet, the whistle blows.

"Seriously, what the hell are you staring at? First Satoru doesn't pass the ball to me, now you fall over like a dainty princess—"

"Sukuna, keep speakin' to my boy like that and I'll cut your tongue out."

"Satoru, your boy is the reason we're losing; he's too busy being a fucking show-off for his crush on the bleachers." Sukuna has no shame and points in your general direction.

"This isn't a serious game, why the fuck are you getting so riled up!"

Suguru feels this sense of mortification stemming from the center of his chest as you finally, finally pay attention to him.

Oh my god. Look away. Look away. Look away.

"Sukuna, you're such a fucking cunt." Suguru spits slowly, unexpectedly.

Sukuna blinks at him incredulously. "... the fuck did you just call me?"

"I called you a cunt."

Poor boy Suguru, he's strong and capable of avoiding punches, but when he sees you coming down from the bleachers and approaching to the left at the same time as Sukuna's arm pulls back for a punch, he pays attention to you and that unfortunately results in a fist colliding with his pretty boy face.

The coach is quick to pry Satoru off of Sukuna, it's a chaotic moment.

Amidst the chaos, there's you. There's Suguru. The latter on the floor, splayed and softly groaning in pain, watching his best friend getting into a fistfight through. And the prior coming to kneel at his side, asking this half-conscious boy if he's okay.

Suguru squints at you, feels your hand reach out to wipe the blood dribbling over his lips, and falls in love in the midst of chaos.

I'm alive, but it feels like I'm in heaven staring at an angel.

You and him are deep in a moment, enclosed in a bubble that's separate from reality.

Satoru is pried off Sukuna by coach Fushiguro.

The bubble pops.

A panting, blue-eyed boy returns to his best friend, paying you a short glance of curiosity before bending down at Suguru's side like you are, "Suguru, you good?" he huffs.

"Yeah... need an ice pack..." Suguru mumbles. He sounds and looks dazed, and not just because he sustained a hit from a burly boy like Sukuna.

"Let's go to the nurse's office." you say, your voice carrying through Suguru's ears and finding a pathway into his soul.

Satoru nods, fangy teeth showing as he seethes and shakes his scuffed hand to alleviate the prickling pain across his knuckles. "Yeah, let's. C'mon, big boy, upsy-daisy."

You're make a cute attempt to help Satoru pull Suguru to his feet, even though he's a skyscraper to you.

In the nurse's office, he's just an uncomposed, love sick college boy. The complete opposite of his usual composed, nonchalant demeanor.

When he's alone with a girl, he usually knows exactly what to do with his words but with you they just fall haphazardly out of his stupid mouth, as if he's been rendered an uncouth loser in your company. In your company, up close, actually right here in your presence, in your air. Not distantly observing you in class, or as you're sat atop the bleachers, or as you walk down the corridors.

She's right here.

"Uh... so..." he begins, eager to talk to you at last.

"You sit next to me in professor Lin's class, right?" you interrupt.

He completely malfunctions. "I— y— yyyeah, I think so— I mean I do. Yeah, I do."

"Bangs guy?" you ask.

He groans and nods. You laugh.

"Yeah... bangs guy. Fucking hell, why has that become my identity in this damn school..." he rubs his eyes, then looks down at his knees.

"I mean, because you are the bangs guy." you say.

He's about to smile, then you add; "The hot bangs guy that sits next to me in class — sounds like the title of a romcom, doesn't it?" you joke.

Suguru widens his eyes, and desperately tries to seem unphased after you just flippantly called him hot.

"Yeah... haha..." he nods, voice daring to crack.

You continue your joke, "There could be a spinoff: "The hot bangs guy that stole my heart on the bloody basketball court" or something."

"These titles are getting longer..." he chuckles, avoiding eye contact.

His heart pumps harder.

Holy shit, is she flirting with me? Like, actually? That's so fucked. I'm so lucky. Oh Sukuna, thank you for making this possible, you fucking cunt.

"The hot bangs guy that banged m— no okay, I'll stop before this gets inappropriate, haha."

"Oh, I don't mind. Please, continue." he laughs properly now.

The smoothness is such an act, and you can tell; his dorkiness shines through. He's in love like a loser.

"The hhh—haha—the hot bangs guy that— that banged me." you say through giggles.

Satoru walks into the nurse's office with vending machine snacks.

"What's goin' on here?" he smirks at the two of you and flashes his eyes at Suguru.

"Just stupidity." you respond.

"Yeah..." Suguru smiles.

"Suguru... you have blood all over your lips. It's so hot." Satoru murmurs sarcastically.

"Oh, thanks babe. I'm going for the "just got beat up" look."

"Uhh... more like the "Sukuna's punching bag" look, you mean?" you joke.

"Wow! We just met and you're already humiliating me like this?"

You smile at him.

Satoru flits his eyes between you two, feeling the flirty tension in the atmosphere between you and Suguru. He decides to be the catalyst, because god knows Suguru is too hopeless right now to ask you out himself.

"So... when are you two going on a date?" he asks, wiggling his brows.

"Haha, what?" you give him a look.

Suguru laughs awkwardly and gives Satoru a look, too. A murderous one. "Yeah... what?"

"C'mon, the chemistry between you two is off the charts. I already feel like a third wheel. No, but seriously — you two are such losers for each other, you should go on a da—"

"— Satoru is a jokester, sorry. Ignore him." Suguru interrupts, feeling a flaming embarrassment in his chest.

"Ahah... it's okay." you nod awkwardly.

Satoru's eyes flicker upwards in annoyance, "Hopeless losers..." he mutters under his breath. "Can't say I didn't try."

You excuse yourself to take a sudden call, smiling at Suguru as you leave and so that's all he can see in his mind; the image of your smile.

He groans when you finally leave, and falls back dramatically on the cot. He drapes an arm over his eyes.

Satoru breaks the silence with a pitying whistle, "Dude, she's sooo not into you."

"Thanks, Satoru."

"I tried playing cupid, I really thought it would work." Satoru clicks his tongue.

"Well, sorry but you're shit at your job, Cupid. Anyways... I thought she was flirting with me for a second there... but I think it was all jokes..."

"Aw..."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I like her so fucking bad.

The poor boy replays all the scenes of your interactions with him thus far, and pauses on the moments where he thinks he was awkward. He files the best parts; you kneeling at his side, you wiping his blood off his nose, you joking suggestively with him, you "flirting" with him, you smiling at him.

"Suguru? You gonna spend your life in the nurse's office, or are we gonna go cheer your sorry ass up in Shibuya?" Satoru asks, stretching as he spoke. The afternoon light streams in through the shuttered windows.

"... yeah."

Satoru switches to a serious tone, watching Suguru move lethargically from his resting position on the cot. "I know you like her a lot, but don't get too bummed out... maybe this is just the beginning of something good."

Suguru pauses, contemplates, then rises to his feet. They open the door and leave the nurse's office.

"... or maybe it's just another thing in my life that's not meant to be..."

He looks so glum, and then suddenly his features light up when he hears your familiar voice calling his name. You're standing in the corridor, coming up to him.

"... hey, are you free on Saturday?"

His mind blanks.

"Free for... what?"

"A date?"

"Oh..."

"...?" you look at him, expecting an answer.

"Y—yeah, Saturday's cool."

You smile genuinely at him, and he snapshots it in his mind's eye.

"M'kay, I'll text you the time and place. See you tomorrow."

And then you say your goodbyes, Suguru stutters and chokes up a bit. He gives Satoru an open-mouthed look.

"No fucking wayyy..."

"Damn. You should go thank Sukuna. His magical fist made all this possible, after all." Satoru jokes.

Suguru nods, "Yeah, him and his magical fist. Hey... can you pinch me?"

"You're not dreaming, Suguru."

"I don't trust it. Pinch me."

Satoru pinches Suguru's cheek.

"See? Not dreaming."

"Wow... shit alright... oh my god... yo... I got a date on Saturday. I... OH MY FUCKING GOD." He smiles a big ass smile and does a half-spin, "I HAVE A FUCKING DATE WITH HER ON SATURDAY."

"Fucking dork." Satoru chuckles.

"A fucking dork with a date." Suguru rasps excitedly.

He wraps an arm around Satoru's shoulders as they head down the corridor, "Thanks for convincing me to play basketball, Satoru."

© arminsumi

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