#i missed the window to get in this semester and i’m gonna turn 18 before the next opportunity to get in starts

[queerpdsys]

i’m so scared. i don’t know how anything works, i don’t know what’s going to happen

[georgiapeach30513]

Like I know brooks is dealing with his own shit but like.. he’s a dick. I did happen to notice that the triplets failed to mention a certain someone coming along on the Hamptons trip🤔😏

They did fail to mention that…let’s take a look at where Otto is at in the Hamptons. How he’s feeling and if his time alone has done him any good. But also…when Annie found out he would be there

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Have Fun

Summary: Annie and the girls head to the Hamptons.

Pairings: Otto X Story, Iclynn/Illiana/Daisy X Annie

Rating: mild

Warnings: drug use (marijuana), mild language, sex talk, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Otto Baizen Masterlist

Otto takes a long drag from his joint as he stares out at the horizon. A few days had turned into two weeks, and still he didn’t feel any more up to heading back to Boston. Had no desire to see the outside world, and just wanted to be holed up in his family’s vacation house, left alone.

He kept up with work remotely, even if his dad told him to take some actual time off, but Otto hated his mind drifting. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Brooks, he just knew he had no business feeling the way he did about Annie.

Even being out here alone, all it did was make his thoughts wander back to a pretty redhead, and he hated it. He knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his brother’s girlfriend, but he couldn’t shake it.

He sits close enough to the edge of the water to where it barely washes up to his feet. Closing his eyes to let the setting sun hopefully wash away his doubts. Hearing his phone ring, he starts to ignore it. Had really thought about letting it go to voicemail, but being here alone, and it being his mother, she’d keep calling until he picked up.

“Hey, Ma,” he drags out. Story rolls her eyes a bit, knowing he was high. He dealt with stress much like Carter did.

“I have a huge favor to ask of you.”

“I don’t like the way that sounds.”

“Well, seeing how you’re already at the Hampton house, and we can’t come up there until later in the week, and it’s your sisters’ and Daisy’s senior spring break, and they want a bit more freedom without us…”

“You want to send three teenage girls with me to watch in the Hamptons while I’m taking a sabbatical?”

“Baby, we’re all coming out there on Wednesday. So you’ll just have them from Saturday, until then. And it’s going to be a big Baizen vacation. If you still need some time away, Mimi and Papa want the estate to themselves, so you can go to their house there. I really wish you’d stay. Z is even bringing Veda and Rosie,” it doesn’t take Otto much convincing. He would have done it anyways. But a vacation with Brooks is one of the last things he wants.

“So you’ll keep the girls out of trouble?”

“Wait wait, is Raiden bringing Birdie Mae?” Story softly answers with a yes, and Otto runs his hand down his face, “Where’s Arlo going for spring break?”

“He’s riding with Zephyr and the girls, and bunking with him.”

“I don’t like her dating.”

“She’s eighteen and could do a lot worse than Arlo Adler.”

“They had sleepovers together already.”

“They were babies! Your dad won’t be able to sleep with them in the same house together,” Story giggles. “He said he’s gonna have to teach Aslan to sit outside Iclynn’s door.”

“Can he quit getting German Shepard’s and naming them literary names that start with an A?” the two do some random catching up, before bidding adieu. Story just happy she gets to see her first baby a bit. She didn’t like any of them getting older.

————————————

Annie takes a long look out the window, her old friends singing and giggling to whatever pop song is on, but her mind is far away. Thinking about everything that had transpired with Brooks, and she was nearly at her breaking point.

Unhappy, under appreciated, and either ignored or in a huge fight with Brooks. She didn’t know what to do, but finish the semester and go back to Boston. She missed everyone, and found herself forgetting who she was more and more each day.

“Annie!” Illiana throws a Twizzler at her, giddy with laughter. “Where are you?”

“Just thinking.”

“I hate to ask, because your boyfriend is my brother, but did he fuck you stupid or something?” Daisy’s mouth drops open, while Iclynn hides her face. “You’re just getting started Icy, you’ll know one day. Well, maybe one day I’ll know. I’ve got to date older men. How is it?”

“Can we change the subject?” Daisy throws her head back on the seat, hoping that Illiana doesn’t continue this.

“Are you still scared of a dick?”

“Oh. My. God! I’m not scared, they’re just…no, I don’t want one near me. Much less inside of me. No! And it looks like it’s gonna hurt.”

Illiana shrugs, popping a candy in her mouth, “At first, huh, Icy? Just how big is Arlo?”

“We haven’t had sex,” Iclynn rolls her eyes. It wasn’t a lack of trying on her part, not to mention, she was in fact terrified. “I just…”

“You put that shit in your mouth, huh?”

“Ills!” Daisy finally shouts at her. “I don’t want to talk about Arlo’s penis, or what Icy is doing with it.”

“Arlo’s penis? Penis? Call it a dick.”

“Quit talking about my boyfriend’s cock!”

“Oop,” Illiana puts her hand over her mouth, and even Daisy starts laughing right along with her.

“Wait,” Annie finally realizes where they’re going. Her eyes going between all of them, “How did you get Carter and Jax agree to letting you be away from them and in the Hamptons for spring break?”

“Otto’s there. He’s been there a couple weeks now. He said he’s hiring a captain to take the boat out. So all day in the sun. And I bet if Icy does her pouty face, he’ll let us drink,” she raises her eyebrows at Annie, and even Daisy and Iclynn. “And no real adults until Wednesday. Otto doesn’t count. He’s the fun brother.”

The girls continue to giggle, but Annie grabs up her phone, giving a quick text to Brooks to let him know Otto would be there.

“Should have known you’d run to him,” he responds.

“I can come back. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t bother. Have fun.”

Masterlist

[luxekook]

chapter two.

⇥ pairing: namjoon x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic namjoon, power tools, hints of poly relationships, overall pretty smut free (who AM i???)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I'm gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot...

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat. 

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year...”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

a/n: i love namjoon. that is all. 

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx​  @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang 

[chemicalpink]

Power and Control ♡ Jung Hoseok

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x reader

Genre: smut, angsty

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Sugar baby themes, power dynamics outside the bedroom, unprotected sex 

Summary: Women and men we are the same but love will always be a game and I’m gonna make you fall.

A/N: Well this was a stubborn one. Like seriously took me a whole month to try and write Hoseok as a villan-y character and at the end... i kinda failed BUT I really liked this one. Thanks for waiting. I hope you are doing great with life aside from all that is going one. Take care. I hope you like this one! 

Hoseok wouldn’t dare to try and label what you and he had as conventional, hell, he wouldn’t even dare to try and label himself as conventional, quite the contrary, because really, what’s a broke college-graduate-to-be got to do when a beautiful, empowered woman like yourself is seeking out a sugar baby deal? Say no? He would have to be stupid, plus, it’s not like you two are 10 or so years apart, you’re just 2 years older than him; plus, the deal was simple enough, apart from a disclosure contract and a few sessions of experimenting what you two liked with each other, it had been easy enough to fall into a routine.

Said routine meaning two to three sessions a week, some weekends together and playing as arm candy in most of your business parties, to which he would then find his semester’s tuition fee paid off, the latest limited-edition Supreme collection on his college dorm and one time, an all-included vacation to Europe for Christmas.

As time went on, nearly a year into it, it had become harder and harder to keep coming up with excuses as to how exactly he was being able to afford such a luxurious way of living without it being apparent that he had worked for it, especially when his closed group of friends were clearly struggling with it all (he might have asked you once to pay for Namjoon’s tuition fee after he got injured and couldn’t work for the month, the guy so in the clouds hadn’t even noticed the debt gone), and you know, Jung Hoseok isn’t a man with fragile masculinity, he knows exactly who he is, so even if for him being a sugar baby was really no big deal, the constant assumption of sugar babies having daddy/mommy issues sure was in the back of his mind every time he so much as the thought of sharing his lifestyle with his friends crossed his mind (cause he did not have daddy/mommy issues, thank you very much).

“Hobi, this just got here for you, I thought we had talked about your shopping addiction?”  Namjoon said as he passed him by on his way out the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, small package on the other, placing it on the kitchen counter before turning to look at him. Hoseok so much as fake laughed his worst laugh trying (and most probably failing) to not make his roommate any more suspicious. 

See, the greatest excuse for the time being all those months ago, when you had started gifting him stuff and sending it to his dorm, was saying that he ‘might have developed an addiction to online shopping’. He had talked it out with you, and you agreed to start delivering the gifts on your sessions. Hoseok hummed while taking the package from the counter “I just- I had this coupon and I had to use it” Namjoon wasn’t even paying attention to him anymore, he could clearly not have said a thing.

“Hey, hyungs would you mind if I-OH MY FUCKING GOD IS THAT BOX FROM THE NEWEST CHANEL COLLECTION???” Taehyung was… quite a melodramatic man when it came down to his expertise: fashion; which was one of the reasons Hoseok could kind of breathe around his own home. Namjoon didn’t know shit about fashion. But Taehyung would a hundred percent not fall into his ‘I got a coupon’ facade for a split second. His throat ached to instinctevely deny the younger’s claim but he knew it would do no good. Hoseok had once committed the deadly mistake of wearing one of the perfumes you had gifted him for his birthday to one of their nights out and that man right there, Kim Taehyung, had known from a sniff that he was wearing a thousand dollars Paco Rabanne Luxe Edition 1 million 18 carats. How exactly? He wouldn’t dare to ask. Taehyung knew his fashion. But the night didn’t seem to come to an end soon enough with his friend’s questioning. “Hoseok-hyung, how did you get access to one of the most exclusive collection previews of the world? I mean, I’m all for Gucci, but go off I guess”

So they are talking about it. May the gods have mercy on his unable to lie for his life soul.

“It was a gift from uh- my distant rich- auntie?” both Taehyung and Namjoon turned to look at him in the most sceptical way possible, but soon went back to their conversation.

He was going to have the talk with you later, for the second time. As if on cue, his phone dinged with a text from you, very out of character, if he may add, you two kept it on the line of the contract that bound the two of you, no texting, no calls, no nothing. He was busy with school most of the time and you were probably busier with your business stuff anyways.

From: Y/N [12:38]

You got my gift?

To: Y/N [12:38]

Yeah. Now apparently I have a rich distant auntie that is sending me expensive af gifts.

To: Y/N [12:39]

But then again, who am I to complain, right?

From: Y/N [12:43]

Great. Wear it tonight. 10 pm sharp. Long day.

Over the course of the months with you, he had learnt quite a few things about himself, first, he had an expensive taste, he just couldn’t afford it. Second, you knew his love language was being gifted things, and lord, did you take advantage of that to keep him wrapped around your finger. Third, he always felt as if you had come to know him inside and out so clearly, you had come to read him like an open book but he couldn’t say the same. You were a reserved woman, he knew that. With your position and all, it made sense. But he was just as cold to people he wasn’t close with, so he had to have some upper hand at it. Even after spending days on researching you he always came empty-handed. Sure, you two fucked, kissed, hanged out, but there was just this sense of chemistry lacking as if you two melted together when naked but once the fog cleared, it became a constant battle to gain control over the other. You had gifts to win him over. He had his charm and amazing bedroom skills to keep you grounded. You made it work. Kind of.

He arrived at your place a few minutes before 10, making himself a drink at the sky bar in the middle of your living room as he stared outside the floor-length window to watch Seoul’s night sky and lighted ground of the busy city, your heels clicking on the floor when you entered the space.

“Oh you got here early?” he turned around to watch you dispose of your jewellery in the entrance table, stealing glances at him every few seconds “I didn’t think you would actually listen to me and wear it, do you like it?

Hoseok lifted the glass to his lips to sip the alcohol. The poorly lit room brought a new light to you that deep down he had known for a while but he wasn’t willing to accept, the tiredness behind your eyes luring him in, making him imagine for a second that the setting was much more domestic than what it really was “Got off classes early and yeah, it does the job, thanks”

You made your way to the bar to fix yourself a drink, all the while he couldn’t stop staring at you, the imposing aura you always exuded sending shivers down his spine, his mind racing. He could already picture you bent over the couch for him as you took a seat and waved him over.

He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how much time went by when your lips found his, your dress riding up your thighs when you moved to straddle him, hands finding your ass, tongues fired up with evident desire as you ground down on his hard length “You texted me first today” you broke away from the kiss to look at him funnily, for the first time in the almost a year knowing you, he could see the slightest of vulnerability in your eyes, fondness, for him. So after all, you were wrapped around his finger “Are you falling in love with me, miss Y/N?” 

Your answer was very much in character, sucking his jawline while your hands worked their way down his pants to free his cock, stroking him a few time to bring it to a full length, his head throwing back into the couch in pleasure as you retorted teasingly “Think you’re going to break my heart, Hobi?” 

He knew then that your favourite game had begun. A constant game of tug and pull to lead the sex that had become a routine for both of you.

He had somehow worked his way under your dress at the same time as he pushed his pants to his ankles and removed them, giving your clothed core just the right amount of friction you were seeking and providing him with the perfect moment to flip you both over on the small space, a smirk taking over his factions “You might be good looking baby, but you’re not a piece of art”

“God I need you so much right now” you whispered at him, before tracing the expanse of his back under his newly bought sweater, distracting him enough for you to take his place on top, aching core approaching his face as his smile didn’t seem to get any bigger “Dinner’s served”

“My favourite,” he said before beginning to suck on the inside of your thighs, working his way to where you needed him the most, hot tongue wetting your already drenching panties for a few seconds before he pushed the cloth aside and gripped you even closer to his face, teeth nibbling at your folds teasingly, drawing a loud moan out of you, walls instinctively clenching as his tongue traced you whole, lewd noises filling up the room, subtly grinding up to him as he traced circles on your clit before eating you out once again, up until your thighs started trembling against his head, yours thrown back in ecstasy at the pleasure. His face glistening with your juices once you let him take control over the situation.

Hoseok’s deft fingers rid you of both of your remaining pieces of clothings as you tried to catch your breath, fully aware of what was about to go on after you had your fun with him. Your exposed skin hits the coldness of the floor as Hoseok rolled both of you down the couch, making you shiver as a smile is plastered in the younger’s face; you close your eyes for a split second, not needing to know that for the time being, Hoseok was pumping his hard cock to ready himself for you, small fluttering kisses adorning the space just below your neck as he approaches your ear silently “I was thinking… a Tesla would be a great combo with my brand new Chanel collection, you know?”

A small laugh leaves your lips before you open your eyes to see him hovering above you, eyes  travelling your face, a few strands of hair covering his “You are not sweet talking me into buying you a Tesla, Hoseok”

“I was thinking more of fucking it out of you” it is then that he enters you in a swift thrust, letting you adjust for a few seconds before moving experimentally at the new angle for both of you that was your living room floor, his hand coming up to place your right leg over his shoulder, gaining him better access to have you whimpering below him, just the way he liked. Long, skilled fingers caress your clit as he keeps a steady rhythm inside of you, feeling the warmth enveloping him and your walls clench around him as he speeds up his pace on your nerve bundle.

“Oh g-Hoseok I’m gonna cum” your voice is strained and he feels it as the opportunity to wreck you harder, the movement of his hips hitting all the right spots within you, he can feel your leg cramping on his shoulder as a wave of pleasure hits you and he has half a mind to pull out and release himself on your stomach, both of you breathing heavily as the need starts to fade and it all comes to an end. 

You see, if you asked any of Hoseok’s close friends, they would describe him as pure sunshine, and he was, kinda, at least for the most part of his life, but he was also a man determined to get what he wanted in life, which was why, he was currently pondering his next move. After your little session at your living room floor/couch, he had felt a shift in the air, a longing between the two of you, and that only went on for the next few weeks as you would drop your cold facade and text him small things, as he kept on receiving packages at his dorm (without Tae or Joon knowing, thank fuck) and he had found himself thinking about you non-stop. It was pretty obvious, and if someone had known about your existence, they might have pointed it out, cause it was so obvious even for himself, that the tug and pull game of yours, had made you both fall for the other somehow. Which really, wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for that shitty paragraph on your contract that seems to keep replaying itself inside his mind. If you started becoming too familiar with each other, you would revoke the contract. He had agreed and signed it, thinking that it is just too weird for someone to grow acostumed to another if they just fuck and leave afterwards, but apparently somewhere he went wrong. And he clearly needed the money. You had yet to come to realise your newly found dynamics so he was living on borrowed time. And he had to act quickly.

Hoseok wasn’t really a strategic man, but luck always seemed to be on his side, so it took a mere week to come up with something. He had been visiting the hospital where his sister worked (per his mother’s request) just hanging out, which probably wasn’t even allowed to, but Jiwoo had insisted to wait for her lunch break as it was a slow day anyway. So he did.

“You’ve never told me how you paid off your tuition without dad’s help, Hobi” his sister commented as she went through some papers on her desk. His mind crashed. Error 404. Flee the country. It is one thing lying to his friends about his way of living, a completely different story when family starts asking.

“Oh I’m a- personal assistant of some CEO” he answered, turning to look the other way towards the entrance, almost nonchalantly, but life liked to have fun with him, so of course just as he is trying his best to keep you out of his mind, you had to be walking right through the door, not as outstanding as he is used to see you, but the aura you exude that is so uniquely yours is unable to miss out. You two didn’t talk on personal life, but he had researched you over the months, trying (and failing) to gain some type of useless power over you. It seemed like whatever wasn’t business, wasn’t you. So he had to play dumb.

“Who 's that?” he asked his sister, just as you were rounding the corner, Jiwoo turning to look at your disappearing figure

“Oh, that’s Y/N”

“Y/N like Y/N Y/L/N? the CEO?” the idea of maybe getting into acting and winning an Oscar crossed his mind, his sister hummed in thought

“I guess, Y/N is quite an unusual name right?” she resumed whatever she was doing before adding “But this girl couldn’t be her, she comes to visit her sister religiously every Friday”

“Is she sick?” so your cold uncaring demeanor was really just a front you put up for people.

“You’re starting to sound like a pervert, Hoseok”

He really wishes he could say he dropped the whole sick sister thing after that day, but the longer he thought about that, the cleared it was for him that if he was looking for an upper hand for you not to drop him out of the whole money deal once you realised you had both infringed the contract that brought you two together, this was it. He had immense self-confidence, if he said so himself. But there was something about going against you that wasn’t exactly easy to warm up to. He tried several times to come up with a plan but came empty-handed so he guessed he would just have to go with the flow. 

“You’re so wet already” he grunted as you felt his member teasing your entrance, his hand gripping your hair to bring you to face the mirror beside your bed. Hoseok had decided to drop by after he knew you were done with work, taking you by surprise at the unscheduled session, but then again, who were you to complain about the man, who in less than five minutes and some lazy kissing on your bed had both of you riled up and on all fours at his complete mercy “We’ve got some things to talk about, Y/N” 

You tried to turn your face to look at him directly instead of the mirror but he just tightened his grip as he thrusted forward forcefully, making you grip your sheets tighter attempting not to tumble over, a pleasurable sting on your scalp “I’m listening”

“Friday. Lunchtime, what exactly were you doing at the hospital?” he asked and could already feel your though exterior crumble, he just had to hope that whatever big secret it was having a sick little sister was enough for him to keep the upper hand in the situation.

Just as fast as that surprised look had appeared on your face, it was replaced with determination in your eyes as you pressed yourself back onto him, purposely clenching around him in the way you knew drove him crazy “Maybe I’ll talk. If you fuck me hard enough”

So he did.

“So what do you want in exchange for keeping my Friday’s whereabouts a secret?” you asked as his clothes were thrown at him

This was it. “I want my full tuition paid off before you call it quits on us”

You turned to look at him, laughing a little “Hoseok, a human vulnerability doesn’t mean that I am weak” you made your way to the bathroom “You’ll have to work harder for it”

Each day that went by was filled with dread of having his whole lifestyle crumbling down in a second, it had been so long since he had even so much as heard about you. Until he wouldn’t stop hearing about you (kind of) He remembers waking up to a 5am text from you telling him that he couldn’t have peace without a war, but if he was being completely honest, he was kind of asleep at the time so he couldn’t comprehend half of it. But it all became clearer when his phone started blowing up with texts, from Taehyung and Namjoon, to his sister and his parents. Apparently, you had a very expensive shopping spree in his name, delivered especially with lots of love to every person that could, and most certainly would question how exactly he had the kind of money to afford the luxurious gifts that they were all receiving. 

From:Y/N [9:02]

You start at 10. 

To: Y/N [9:02]

Y/N What’s going on?

From: Y/N [9:05]

Welcome to the team, board member Jung Hoseok.

So perhaps you would always have the upper hand when it came to power and control of whatever it was you two were playing. You had no doubt and no obstacle to ruin his whole life. But he guesses that his upper hand is shown in the fact that he could keep you from doing just that.

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 4

Hello everyone,

I submitted this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy.

This chapter is less action heavy, but just as important. Thanks for hanging in there and reading!

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 3812

Part Four: The Aftermath

           The weathered professor seemed very confused but stood her ground and insisted, “Miss King, take the summer off.”

           “I just need a week, that’s all—and then I’ll get the methodology section to you—Dr. Watts I just need another week, please!” Antha pushed back. Dr. Watts set her glasses on her desk and then waved her over to a deep-tufted-leather sofa.

           “Antha,” her voice lowered, “I’ve known you for what—five years? You don’t become a valedictorian because you don’t like to write. You have been moody these past few weeks, you barely passed the final exam, and you’ve pushed back the thesis methodology three times. Last class, you were so distracted I would have rather you skipped. I know you, talk to me, what’s going on?”

           “My sister and I had a Friday night out with some friends and something happened.” Antha murmured, staring down at her feet.

           “Friday nights aren’t what they used be; did you hear about the fight that broke out at that dive bar off of—oh, what’s it called? You know the place—well, it was all over the news,” she paused gravely, “you weren’t there were you?”

           The twin nodded slowly. She felt overwhelmed in front of her advisor. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut before replying. “Tessa’s date got into a fight with an old flame, it was a whole thing. But after…” She couldn’t continue. The advisor took her hand gently.

           “Did someone hurt you?”

           Antha’s eyes welled and all she could do was stare. As if she said the words out loud, it would become more true than it already was. The doctor’s forehead wrinkled as her brows gathered together. Having lived through the revolutions of the sixties and the proceeding struggle for equality, Dr. Watts knew the dangers women faced. She didn’t need an answer; she just wanted to offer shelter to a young woman. She knew just from looking at her student that whatever happened, it was beyond words.

           “You’re taking the summer and fall semester off—or at the very least take the summer off and go to a student counselor; its free, it comes with your tuition, so please use it. If you need anything you know you and your sister can come to me.” She wrote down her personal number and one for the counselors’ office. Antha held the little shred of stationary. She promised she would do just that.

        Shortly after, she left her advisor’s office and floated through the campus green and then waited by the bus stop. Her feet told her she was going home, yet her attention was somewhere far away. What can I say to a counselor? Who would understand what we saw at Hollow House? Without realizing, she had retrieved something from her pocket; she stared dumfounded at the pewter-colored iris that gleamed back.

        Antha couldn’t get rid of it. But in a moment of frustration, she chucked the marble-like eye into a nearby drain. She returned to her spot and tried to focus on scheduling a counselor. Moving forward, that’s what I need, she figured.

        A familiar wheezing crawled up the street. The sluggishness of a muffler that had seen better days filled her ears as she dazed at the phone number-laden scrap paper.  “—Antha!” Someone yelled. To her surprise she peered up to see Doug hanging out of his rusty Buick, looking just as timid as ever. He seemed anxious, for what reason she didn’t know. “I’ve been calling your name. You’ve gone deaf ol’ girl—you want a ride?” He asked with forced humor in his voice. She watched him blankly as his expression fell. “You alright?”

        Antha thought about it and suddenly felt stupid. All of her gusto about moving forward had evaporated; she lamely shook her head like a weary child. She felt like a little girl in a world that was too big for her. It all just seemed too much.

        The July swelter didn’t let up even with the windows down. The two didn’t speak as they made their way to their favorite pizza joint. Thrilled to be out of the unairconditioned Buick’s steel embrace, they collapsed into the far back booth of the pizzeria. All the servers knew it was Doug and Antha’s spot; they habitually kept it clean and empty, knowing they would eventually roll in. They made it to the “golden hour”. The sacred three hours between the lunch and dinner rush. It was their favorite time.

        “Whatchas want?” The straggly blue-haired waitress chewed her bubblegum like a goat.

        “The usual—uh hold on—when did you eat last?” Doug asked. Antha shrugged and realized she didn’t know. She couldn’t even think that far back. “Can we get a double order of the usual? But make two of them to-go?” The waitress didn’t even answer as she went to get drinks. “You want to talk about it?”

           “Nope. I said everything already.” Antha wasn’t mad at him, she was just tired. She was more annoyed that he would ask about the matter and then dispute the realism of what she explained. Doug grumbled when the waitress slopped the pitcher and straws down, vanilla coke-a-cola splashing everywhere.

           “—Hey, don’t we get like a punch-card or something? You know, for every hundred pizzas we buy, we get the next one free?” He politely suggested, his way of being confrontational. He was growing exasperated with the women in his life; he didn’t mind taking it from his close friends, Zoey and the twins, but he was having none of this waitress. She paused, chewed her gum, and left again.

           “Whoa, cool off killer,” Antha snarked, her spirits lifting with each sip of her fountain soda. She looked him over and thought on their friendship for a moment as he griped about that one particular server.

        Doug was a shy, lanky, ginger-bearded young man. He was passionate about things and supportive of the people he loved, but didn’t reserve much attention for the people outside of that parameter. He lived in vintage band t-shirts, had friendly light eyes, and a funny smile. No one could resist his unkempt wolfish hair or his corny sense of humor; he had a way of growing on a person. But he always showed up, his guitar in tow. That’s why Antha didn’t fight him when he asked about that night; she knew he actually cared and was trying his best to understand. He couldn’t help her though. No one could help.

        “How about we hang out this weekend, do a barbeque? Nobody grills a burger like you—and Tessa can make her sangria, huh, what do you think?” He tried to turn the conversation to open her up.

        “Uhh… I don’t know. I can’t plan that far ahead, I’m real busy.” She declined. The sausage pizzas arrived faster than expected and Doug dropped slices on their plates.

        “Busy yeah? Mmm-hmmm,” he bit into his slice, cheese tangling in his five o’clock shadow, “busy not writing your thesis, not eating, and not sleeping? Ant, the last time I saw you eat was a few days ago when I brought pizza over. You gonna talk to me?”

        Antha sighed loudly and glared at him. She was worn-through with the people in her life too. I’m too tired for this shit, she thought. She pushed her plate forward and abandoned her half-eaten slice. He saw her mild protest and his cheeks tinged pink. They silently stared each other down, him chewing as loud as he could manage while she obnoxiously slurped her soda in reply.

        Before they could hash out their issues a patron burst through the front entrance. “Hey—hic—you seen Ant? Where she at? The back?” Tessa was hiccupping and talking all sorts of loud, like she was in a club on a Saturday night. “Oh hey girls!” She pointed at the staff and sashayed herself to the booth; her bedazzled sandals slapping the linoleum like a jackhammer in the quiet place. The front door jingled again and in rushed Zoey.

        “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the front of the house and then chased after Tessa. “I picked her up because she was texting me weird messages—I thought I could calm her down with something to eat.” She explained to the table as she took a seat next to Doug.

        “I already ate today.” Tessa insisted, sliding in next to her sister and almost toppling over a pizza.

        “Oh yeah, what did you have for lunch?” Doug asked, his patience wearing thin.

        “GIN and uh—” she had to think about it but excitedly rebounded, “and uh water ice. Breakfast of champions!” Tessa thought she was quite funny, regardless how everyone else disagreed.

        “How about we have a little slice of pi—” Doug pandered but she wasn’t going to hear any of it.

        “Now who would put sausage on a pizza? Oh, no. I have enough meat in my life—you know what I’m sayin’ Zo—you feel me?” She howled.

        “That’s cute.” Doug’s patience officially went on vacation as of that second. He tore the sausage off some of the pie and then thrust the mangled slice in front of the drunk twin. “There ya’ go, just cheese—And you eat your damn slice too! This has gone on long enough—we’re going to have a barbeque and chill like we always do! It’s Fourth of July this weekend, did you know that?” He directed at the other twin.

        “This white boy’s hollering at you, oh lord…” Tessa cackled; her cheese dripped down the side of the table as she reached for some ice chips from an empty cup. Zoey was mortified and motioned to Antha for help, her friend was out of control.

        “Yeah—well this boy’s about tired of this foolishness! I don’t know all of what’s happened that night, but neither one of you will talk to me about it! Ant you’ve been practically dead, a walking zombie for three weeks—and Tessa, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, what the hell has gotten into you?”

        “Gin.” She giggled.

        “Hey Katy? Can we get all this to go, with some two liters?” He yelled across the full length of the restaurant.

        Zoey handled the food transport as Doug buckled the twins into his car. He mumbled to himself, “…goddamn vampires my ass…” as he cleared his fogging glasses. Tessa began to mildly complain about the heat when the car stopped at a red light. They all noticed a young man struggling to get into a car at the gas station across the way.

        “Is that José?” She whispered. They witnessed his mother trying to steady him, juggling his crutches and searching for a spot on him that wasn’t bandaged. Adorned in a neck brace, shoulder sling, full posterior elbow splint, and full left leg cast. Poor José appeared like he faced-off with a combine. Doug glared at the girls in his rear-view mirror. The light turned green and not another word was said.

        He parked the Buick under the tree closest to the house and got the girls inside. Zoey did the same and brought the provisions to the shaded porch. It was too hot to do anything other than sit around by the fan or stay in the AC. Tessa went to her room when they got in; she felt awful about what she had seen at the gas station.

        They worked together to set up the tall pedestal fan on the porch, because the porch fan just couldn’t combat Mother Nature alone. They were in the midst of dawdling about when Antha accidentally fell asleep on the porch swing while Doug played the guitar. Zoey elicited his help inside to leave Antha to nap. The two were shocked with the state of things.

        Momma’s house was a frightful mess. They never saw it in its condition before: Dishes with dust, articles of clothing haphazardly dropped, laundry either half started or half done, it was difficult to tell. “Momma would roll over, I swear…” Zoey whispered. They agreed to tidy up while the twins rested, lest Momma rise up and haunt them. That woman was meticulous and was not above coming back from the grave to tell everyone what’s-what.

        As if life had been frozen in time from the month prior. The twin’s incident hit like a meteor and their friends now saw the wreckage. While they hadn’t admitted it out loud, they had stopped living too; obsessed with what happened that night at Hollow House. Grasping for a truth that they couldn’t reach.

        The overloaded dishwasher whined as it cycled and it reminded Doug of seeing José, busted up and struggling. That’s what really happens after a bar-brawl. There’s always a winner and always a loser. He half-heartedly swept the floor and thought to himself: these are the parts they edit from movies. The aftermath. The guns, the glory, the blood all made the cut; but the estranged motions we go through to try and find the thread leading back to our lives doesn’t. These are the quiet moments without answers, like loose ends dangling.

        Zoey crept into the kitchen and signaled for him to follow her to the porch. She had just hung the last load of laundry on the line for the afternoon. They were both beat and sweat through from cleaning. They shimmied the big metal ice bucket to the front, fearing they’d disturb Antha. She was so far gone that an earthquake couldn’t wake her. They popped two well-earned beers and exchanged the bits and pieces of what they learned from the twins over the past few weeks.

        “…that’s crazy, right? Like there’s no way what Tessa told me could be real, right? Did someone roofie their drinks?” Zoey asked him as she tied his wavy hair into a top-knot.

        “I’m just worried that something happened they won’t say, like they’re traumatized—I mean, Zo, I was driving to the bar and I seen them covered in blood on the side of the road. Tessa was screaming in the ER that a vampire attacked her sister—and then Antha all of a sudden, calms her down and explains to the doctors that they were lost in the woods, came upon the bed and breakfast for help, and that a strange man assaulted them there. Said they used a fireplace poker in defense, bloodied him up real good, and they escaped to the main road.” Doug took a swig of beer to recuperate.

        He was getting worked up just relaying the story, “But the cops, they investigated that place and found six bodies—slaughtered—in the basement, two of them the owners. The bodies had been sitting there for days before the twins got to ‘em. I’m scared that maniac’s out there. I mean—I’m scared in my own damn apartment when I think about it. What if they were found in that basement? What if we couldn’t find them?” He shook his head.

        “What can we do for them? Are there groups for people like this, who think they’ve seen something supernatural?” Zoey mused aloud as she pinned her jet-black pixie cut hair out of her face. The two pulled fresh beers out of the ice bucket and vowed to do some research after the weekend. They agreed their first goal was to get the twins fed and cared for.

        They watched the sun set into folds of purple, pink, and orange over the high grass. The heat of the day receded with the light, but the humidity persisted only to remind them that it was an intermission; the threat remained that the summer’s full force would return at tomorrow’s dawn.

        The grasshoppers were summoned as Doug strummed his guitar, not truly playing anything particular. Zoey brought out cards to shuffle, waiting on Tessa to play. The evening began to set in peacefully until a rumble cut through the twilight.

        A huge pickup truck barreled down the long drive and parked in front of the house. Out jumped the infamous Flake. His blond hair contrasted against the lavender sky, budding starlight glinting off his aviator sunglasses, and a tooth pick in the corner of his mouth completed his redneck-chic visage. He swaggered up to the porch and was met with a startled Antha; she had jumped up like a viper at the sound of his wheels. He donned a large patch like bandage over half an eye and his hands were wrapped too.

        “Tessa around?” Franco didn’t even offer small talk which had Antha go straight from just waking up to furious.

        “Not for you.”

“Well, I wanted to check in on her—haven’t been able to call on account of that scuffle at the bar. Them boys got my tires and my phone.”

        “Looks like they got your eye too.” She scoffed.

        “Yep,” he laughed and pulled his sunglasses down to reveal those piercing big blues, “you should see the other guy.”

        “We did.” Her disdain seemed to suck the air out of the whole yard. Franco leaned on the porch banister and pulled a smoke from behind his ear. Her eyes burned so hot on him she could have lit his cigarette.

        “I can see you’re not much for visitors, so I’ll just leave this. If you could give it to Tessa, I’d be mighty grateful.” He handed her a number, but she walked away not even considering it. Zoey jumped up and took the note. “Night ya’ll.” Franco flicked his butt into the yard and made his way back to his truck.

        Long after he left and the noise of his truck faded Antha sat, her arms crossed, on the porch swing. Her friends idled by, every so often glancing in her direction waiting for her to speak her mind. The disgruntled twin couldn’t connect the pieces of her dislike for Franco. It wasn’t as simple as his jeans were too torn, his truck too loud, or his gaze too heavy; it was the fact that she knew nothing about him. No one did. Where did he come from—and where was he going? It didn’t add up to Antha that he was the first hillbilly she ever met without a tan. What working man doesn’t have a farmer’s tan? Finally, after a good twenty-five minutes of contemplation Antha announced, “I need a drink.” With a flutter of Zoey’s sundress, she presented a liter of honey whiskey, lemon wedges, and shot glasses.

        A few shots and some pizza in her stomach, Antha started to feel somewhat whole. The four-hour nap revived her a bit, or least lessened the haze she had been wading through. She could finally take in her surroundings: she was lucky to have her friends. When the mosquitos really started to bite they brought their party inside and relished the cool—and now clean—house. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two, I’m sorry I can’t,” she paused, “I just can’t right now.” Before Antha could work out her sentiment the queen bee descended from her room.

        “That’s it! I have decided!” Tessa announced, thumping down the stairs like a sentinel charge. “I’m going to visit José tomorrow—even though it’s not my fault he got his ass beat, I still think it’s only fair to show love.” She waited, her hands on her hips, for their unyielding approval or preferably a round of applause.

        “Look at you growing a conscious,” was the general consensus of the other three. Tessa saucily tossed her braids as she dusted her shoulders. They all scooted into the kitchen table and fed her dinner. Just like a heart, she had a way of pulsing life into a room. Before they knew it, they were swapping stories like always.

        Tessa was laughing and teasing Doug when she took a shot. She threw her empty glass down on the table as was customary, but when the glass met the table it then clinked as if something had been dropped into it. They all sat forward to see a silvery-gray eye in the bottom.

        “Did you just spit that in there?” Doug’s eyes were wide.

        The twins beheld each other knowingly.

        In the beginning, they initially freaked out over the eyes returning. Now it became a sickening fascination of what they could do to them. The eyes always returned. They burned them, they drowned them, and they threw them away; every time the eyes returned to the twins.

        “I tried to tell you, but you’re not listening,” Antha began, “these eyes are following us. Ever since we killed that thing at Hollow House, we’ve had them.” Doug and Zoey’s faces were pained in disbelief.

        “Here.” Tessa got up roughly and held the eye over the sink. She turned on the garbage disposal and dropped it in; it made a grotesque metal sound and then after a few rotations, crunched like glass. Antha showed the eye that was always in her back pocket and explained she threw it away in a drain across town earlier that day. She threw hers in too, directly into the disposal.

        “Well, how long does it take for them to come back?” Zoey asked.

        “They’re not coming back—this is a trick!” Doug looked like an angry leprechaun with his reddened face and stubble. The twins’ faces didn’t even shift with the accusation.

        “Sometimes its seconds, sometimes hours, or a day. It doesn’t matter, they’ll be back.” Antha confirmed and the twins took their seats at the table. The room became solemn as Tessa popped another round of beers and poured a flight of shots for them all, knowing the liquid courage was needed. Doug jumped up from his seat and began checking under cushions, searching cupboards, and drawers. The girls sat back and waited as he processed.

        He huffed, “…you got back-ups, or hiding ‘em somewhere—I don’t know why you’re playing with me right now…it’s not funny…” But then a loud plop sounded on the kitchen table, like a golf ball dropped from the ceiling. He turned to watch a second oversized marble drop seemingly out of thin air. He returned to the table and gawked at the two eyes sitting in front of the twins. “You got to tell us what happened at Hollow House.” Doug’s voice was hushed as he shakily accepted the whiskey shot from Tessa. In unison they saluted and threw back the shots with beer chasers.

        While the four friends went over the sordid events, in gruesome detail, a mysterious figure watched from the unlit porch window. The uninvited guest crept off through the yard, down the dirt-path driveway, and made a phone call:

        “They got them eyes,” it reported, “I reckon there’ll be a war.”

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @nildespirandum​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @latent-thoughts​ @emeraldrosequartz​ @villainousshakespeare​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @caffiend-queen​ @poetic-fiasco​ @lokimostly​ @dianamolloy​ @marvelgirlonamarvelworld​ @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0​ @cateyes315​ @mooncat163​ @nuggsmum​ @myraiswack​​​ @wolfpawn​​ @plastic-heart​​ @confusednerd09​

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Small Price to Pay

Warnings: Non con, dub con, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, little bit of childbirth, slight depression, 18+

Word count: 2,973

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: Reader is the youngest girl in her family and her father is looking to sell his daughter into marriage next. She’s able to fend off majority of the men who come to court her, but then a mysterious man with eyes the color of the ocean comes into the picture. Money is a small price to pay for a happy life after all. 

~ indicates a time change

Prompts: The song “Light” by Sleeping at last

A/N: This is for @marvelfulxbabes​ challenge that I’m so thrilled to be apart of. I’m sorry for the hiatus, school is always way busier during the 2nd semester, but I have a bunch of stuff coming out. As for my series they may take a while, so I’m sorry if you were invested in those. They are coming though, I miss them deeply. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

Ps: Thinking about part 2 to this, whatcha think? ;)

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Your father was a douchebag. Plain and simple. He had bought your mother from your grandfather and he had sold your older sisters to men twice their age. Now that you were 18, it was your turn. You were extremely close to your sister, Anne. She was the third oldest and the last to leave you alone with your two younger half brothers. She was the most like you and always fought back the men who came to bid on her like property. Sadly, a man came by and easily found it charming. She always said to never give in, figure out what they want and do the opposite. You’d be successful only until dad finds a man who doesn’t give a damn at all. They were out there, but your father had failed nearly a thousand times already. 

Since your birthday, at least three men have come to your house to try to court you. In fact, that’s what your birthday present was, a rich man named Tony Stark there to court you. He worked as a CEO on the upper east side for a well known tech company. He was loaded, and your father wanted in. You figured out Tony like proper and well spoken ladies, someone to show off at his expensive Galas filled with people who spoke seven different languages. So, you acted a slob. Spilled your fancy tea all over yourself and his prestine suit, mispoke several words, use vulgar language, and acted painfully stupid. Tony marched right out and your father made you kneel in rice until your knees bled. It was worth the pain. 

It’s been six months and your father was unsuccessful. You have never seen your sisters since their marriage and you missed them, especially Anne. You didn’t want to end up a housewife somewhere with no say in anything. When your mom died your father quickly remarried, it was as if your mother meant nothing to him. You’d be damned if that happened to you. If you were going to get married, it’d be for love. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake up, you have a visitor.” Your father shook you awake. You rubbed your eyes and looked to your father, he was already smoking a cigar even though it was 8am. You groaned and got out of bed, walking to your closet, pulling out a t-shirt and jeans. 

“Oh no, you can go out like that.” Your father pointed to your sleep shorts that showed off your legs and cupped your ass perfectly; your top was a thin tank top that showed your hardening nipples. You rolled your eyes and started walking to your door, shouldering your way past your father. 

You walked into the living room and saw a man standing there with his back to you facing the window. His arms were folded and you saw one sparkling in the light, he had a metal arm. You gasped at it and stopped in your tracks. The man turned to you and the corners of his mouth threatened to rise. He was hot. His hair was pinned out of his face in a man bun, he wore navy blue dress pants and a white button up dress shirt that had he rolled to his elbows. His eyes were as bright as the diamonds the strange men bring to you in order to try to buy your love. 

“Mr. Barnes, my daughter. Daughter, Mr. Barnes.” The way your father said daughter bit at your nerves. He knew introducing you with a title rather than your name made you feel inferior, as if that’s the only thing there was to know about you. You glared at your father before turning back to Mr Barnes. He extended his flesh hand to you. 

“Pleased to meet you. I doubt your name is daughter, though.”

He smiled at you, but it didn’t meet his eyes. You took his hand and faked a smile. “Mmmhm, it’s not. Y/n will do just fine.” Mr. Barnes shook your hand before gesturing to the couch. 

“Take a seat, let’s get to know each other.” At that your father excused himself, but not before casting you a warning look. You smirked back at him before taking your seat next to Mr. Barnes. “So, how old are you?”

“97, just a few years younger than you.” You bit at him. You always lead with sarcasm, if they laughed they were serious and you’d have to become boring. If they didn’t that means you had to continue being “unladylike.” 

Mr. Barnes eyebrows shot up before he laughed a bit. It wasn’t real, he was uncomfortable. He was easy to read, you had this in the bag. 

“Alright, I see why you’re so uptight. I wouldn’t like it if men were to come in and try to buy me either. Believe it or not, I used to hate this practice.”

“Yet you’re willingly here and seem to be enjoying it.” You cocked your head to the side, your smart mouth making him shift a bit. 

“My younger sisters have been victims of this trade,” Mr.Barnes ignores you, “I always said I wouldn’t do it. As time has gone on, no woman of value isn’t being bargained off. You should be lucky your father cares for you so much, the ones who aren’t cared for are just thrown out into the world.” 

“Grateful? My father sold my sisters like livestock for a couple millions and I haven’t seen any of them in years! This “bargaining” system is destroying families and is never created equal. What do the men and young boys suffer? What do they lose? They can still go see their family. They still have freedom.” Your voice raised, the audacity that these men had always blew your mind. They didn’t understand and never would, so why did they try to sit there and try to make you? They saw how unhappy their sisters and mothers were, yet they continued on with this bullshit for generations. If you ever were married off and had a son, you’d beg him to stop the cycle. You’d try even harder to protect your daughter. 

Mr. Barnes sighed and sat up a bit more. “I’m sorry doll, I didn’t mean to upset you. I meant it as a compliment, honest.” You crossed your arms and glared at him. He looked apologetic but you didn’t care. You weren’t here to be nice, you were there to survive as long as you possibly could. 

“Well, Mr. Barnes, your intentions don’t seem to have worked out, did they?” You raised your chin and said his name with a poison that even stunned you. There’s no way he’s gonna want you.

“My real name is James, sorry for the formicality,” Mr.Barnes was suddenly smiling and standing up. He crossed to the door that separated the living room and the main area in your house. Where your father was sitting on the other side. What just happened?

You lookedon with curious eyes as James opened the door and called for your father. He was still smiling and your father rushed over, angry eyes finding yours before turning soft at James when he saw his beaming face. “We have a deal, sir” He shook your father’s hand while your jaw dropped. Fuck.

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Two million dollars. That’s how much you’re worth apparently. You don’t know where you went wrong, but being a brat was only going to work so many times. James apparently didn’t mind at all that you had a mouth, in fact he was telling your father how much he loved it. He said while looking for a wife he pretended to be proper so that when the girls acted the way they thought he wanted them to, boring in his opinion, he knew they weren’t for him. You, on the other hand, spoke your mind and were feisty. It ignited a flame James believed was dead. 

You looked on with glossed over eyes as you say your belongings being packed away and set in a moving truck. It was mostly irreplaceable objects such as photos and your favorite clothing. James promised to buy you new things and to add a new wardrobe. He must’ve been loaded because after dropping that much he still promised so much more. Lucky girl you were.

You signed a paper while a ring decorated your finger and numbly kissed James on the lips to seal your marriage. He wore a similar band on his left hand finger. “Congratulations, may your marriage be filled with joy, blah blah blah.” Your father blabbered while he sucked on another cigar and counted the money James had given him. 

James took you to his house. It was a humble suburban home on the outskirts of New York, much different than your penthouse in the city. There was a white picket fence and freshly trimmed grass decorating the outside. “We’re home, doll.” James cut the engine of his BMW, putting his hand on your thigh. You changed into a short blue summer dress that complimented your skin tone and brown wedges. You looked like your mom and every other dutiful wife you’d known. 

You stepped out of the car and looked up at the house that you’d be spending the rest of your life. The sky was clear and beautiful but you felt the depressive clouds that rained over cul de sac, drenching their housewives. The weight these women held, loving the men who cheated, hated, and abused them. James came up behind you and pulled your waist so that you leaned on him. He kissed your cheek and looked into your eyes. “I can’t wait for us to fill the rooms in the house. I can see it now, two kids a boy and a girl. Maybe more if it feels right.” Your stomach churned at the thought. You didn’t want kids with him. But it didn’t matter, when you signed your name you signed away your happiness. The light had gone out in your soul. 

“Yes dear.”

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Two years into your marriage felt like a decade. Every day was the same: wake up, make breakfast, see James off to work, clean, shower and look pretty for James, cook dinner, welcome James home, eat dinner and ask James about his day, have sex, and go to sleep. The sex at first was painful and he was never gentle. He was never lovey dovey, never brought flowers, just wanted a one-sided relationship. 

You always went to visit his family and friends on holidays or you hosted his family and friends at your house. You hadn’t seen your family and, even though you hated your dad and never really talked with your stepmom and brothers, you missed them for the similarity. You were missing your brothers growing up, one was three when you left the other was six. You asked once to see your sisters and James merely shrugged it off. “You would only bother them” he reasoned, “They’re busy running a household like you. They don’t have time for useless small talk.”

Today it wasn’t your alarm that woke you up. It was the vomit that was rising in your stomach, pushing its way out of your mouth. You ran to your bathroom and puked in the toilet. You continued gagging and dry heaving when everything was out of your tummy. James walked in rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and yawning. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“N-nothing, dear. I’m sorry for waking you.”

James shook his head and walked closer to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I think I just ate something.”

James frowned. “We eat the same thing, have for years. You always skip lunch because it ruins your appetite for dinner. I’m not feeling sick.” His lips showed signs of cracking a smile as he bit his finger, pretending to ponder what could be going on.

You knew what he meant. It had been two years of sensless fucking. Like you had held out on marriage your body had held out on pregnancy, but just like your marriage to james, your body had come to a point that it could no longer fight. 

James opened up the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and pulled out a pink box. He reached in and pulled out to reveal two white sticks. He handed them to you. “Take them.”

You reached out and took the sticks, starting to pull your pants down so you could pee. Thirty minutes later, James’ phone timer rang and he looked at the sticks. His face scrunched as pure joy took over his features. He held the sticks out to you. “We’re pregnant!”

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You had just gotten done with your baby shower and you were now sitting down for a break before you would get up and start cleaning. You rubbed your sore back and nine month old belly. Baby boy was bigger than normal, James said it was because of his special genes. James was saying bye to his best friend, Steve, before he shut the door and turned to you. Of course, nobody you were close with was at the party, just James’ family and close friends. He did say he had phones your father to tell him the news, but he failed to send even a card. You had grown to not expect much or feel sad for the neglect you got emotionally from your husband or your father. 

James made his way to you, he was still smiling. “Not much longer, doll. We’ll be meeting this big guy any day now.” He rubbed your belly before grabbing your hand, pulling you up to stand despite your pain. “Dance with me.” You both danced to music that wasn’t playing and you felt your son kick. You smiled, the light you thought you’d lost was slowly lighting again. 

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The contractions were horrible. Nothing you had ever felt before. You were screaming and clutching James’ hand as you were being wheeled into the hospital room. Nurses and doctors poked and prodded at your skin, asking you questions you weren’t capable of answering due to the immense pain you were feeling. Your legs were propped up and James moved closer to you, still holding your hand. The doctor came to stand between your legs before sitting in a chair. He nodded to James while you sobbed out as a new wave of pain washed over you. “Alright, Mrs. Barnes, push.”

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Your schedule was thrown off balance a bit, you had a newborn now. You still did the majority of the things the same, wake up, make breakfast, get James Jr, or Bucky as a nickname, and feed him, see James off to work, clean up, bathe and dress Bucky, clean and dress yourself up, make lunch because it was important for breastfeeding now, walk around to settle Bucky for a nap, cook dinner, greet James, feed Bucky, get him ready for bed, have sex with James, and sleep yourself. 

You loved your son unconditionally, he slept in the crib next to you and James’ bed for now. “Easier access” James had said. You didn’t mind, you were closer with the love of your life. 

James held your wrists in one hand as he thrusted into you, his hips crushing into yours at fast and hard rhythm that was sure to leave bruises. His moans and skin slapping skin was the only thing you could hear in the room, Bucky was sleeping soundly. 

“Fuck, your pussy is so good for me. Still so tight, even after Bucky. Shit I’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up so you can give me a girl. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, James.”

“Mmm, good girl. My good girl.” James finished inside you, grunting in the process. He rolled over and released a long breath. “You’re such a good mom, doll. Such a good wife.” He sleepily rambled. You hummed in response and rolled over to face Bucky, watching as his tiny hands scrunched into fists and his steady breaths caused his chest to rise and fall. His light blue and grey onesie and matching hat barely fit, he was growing faster than you thought any baby did. You’d ask James to buy more soon. Maybe he would let you go too, picking out baby clothes for your son would make you so happy. You’d work towards it, make James’ favorite meal and might even throw in a few blowjobs. 

Bucky’s face started to contort and he soon started to fuss, his pacifier falling out of his mouth. You looked at the time and knew it was time for his feeding. He ate a lot but that’s just what a growing boy like him needed, plenty of food. You picked him up before he could wake James and guided him to your nipple. He stopped crying and started sucking, looking at you with big blue eyes like his father. You let you fist wrap around your finger as you slightly rocked and quietly hummed. Bucky was the light you needed in your life. He made your soul glow again, and he gave you hope for the future. Hidden in the dressure was money you were slowly stealing from James. Five dollars here, another ten there. By this time next year you’d have enough money to leave with your son Bucky. You’d leave with your sisters to live in a house Anne had found in Germany. 

Bucky let go of your breast and cooed. He looked at you with sleepy eyes as he let out a small yawn. You smiled. “With every heartbeat I have left, I will defend your last breath.” You promised your son. He was the light, and you felt you could sleep peacefully at last knowing he was right there with you.

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@jtargaryen18​

[armysantiny]

Books and Glasses pt1 - PJS

- pairing; park jisung x fem!reader

- genres; student!au, fluff, friends to lovers

- word count; 3.47k

- an: This took way too long to complete. Actually it’s not really complete, because the scene I had for this hasn’t happened yet, so I’m going to put it in a part two.

The library was peaceful, and your favourite place to unwind after classes were over. Especially after you had to listen to a certain Mark Lee for an hour and a half. Reading in a reserved booth, you went over your notes for your next mid-semester exam, a coffee beside you on the table. That peace was cut by a familiar sing-song voice coming from the door to your booth

"Noona~ what are you doing?" That honey-like voice belonged to no other than Park Jisung; a darling first-year who you had agreed to tutor last semester, and who now had become more of a friend than just your student. Shifting over to the side to accompany the 18-year-old, you moved your books over.

"Jisung-ah, I'm studying~ I've got exams at the end of the month," You smiled, leaning over to readjust his slipping glasses, which had him frozen for a moment, watching you with a curious expression in his eyes. Gathering his composure, he scrunched his nose as you ruffled his brunette locks, giggling as he fixed his hair.

"Ah~! Study hard Noona! You'll do really well, I know it! You always do~" He cheered quietly, an optimistic hum in his voice. You were his only Noona in the third year, and he often stuck by your side when you had the free time to spend with him and his friends. Checking the time, you gasped under your breath, putting your books away and standing up, taking the younger male by the hand as you took him out of the library with you. You'd promised your dongsaeng that you'd both get desserts after school was over, but you'd all but forgotten entirely when your literature professor gave your class that all-important exam reminder.

"Noona, are we going to that dessert place you mentioned in the morning?" Jisung asked, a small skip in his step as he caught up with you.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry Jisungie - I almost completely forgot about it," you apologised, and before he could interject, you continued, "no, no, don't say anything. I promised, remember?" Your tone was insistent, determined and Jisung knew he wasn't going to be able to change your mind anytime soon. Making your way out of the building together, you checked your phone once more to make sure you remembered the directions correctly. It'd been a while since you'd been to the cafe on your own, work shifts getting in the way of any free time you used to have.

Reaching the cafe, Jisung's jaw dropped in amazement as he looked around; it looked just like it came out of a drama, those office love-stories you both watched at your house together. Watching the way he smiled, you couldn't help the smile that crept up on your own face either. Finding a quaint window seat, Jisung excitedly tugged on your arm, pulling you to sit with him. You wondered exactly how such a childlike innocence remained in such a cute person. He was adorable.

"Noona, are we really eating here? It's so pretty!"Jisung had never seen the cafe before, mainly because he went home in the other direction and he rarely had the time to explore the city after his extra-curricular activities. Dancing was his passion, and it was undeniable how good he was. He definitely loved being in the cafe, but there was something about being there with you which made it even better.

The menu was packed with desserts, that a single trip couldn't possibly begin to satisfy your curiosity. Having already chosen a latte tiramisu, you folded the menu and placed in front of you, only to realise that Jisung was having a hard time choosing what he wanted; there was just so much to choose from, and it all sounded so good. Pouting, he put the menu back down, he sighed, brushing a stray hair out of his face.

"우리 지성이~ can't choose?" Leaning over, you put your hand on him, drumming your fingers against his knuckles ever so slightly. Nodding, his gaze lingered on your hand before they met yours.

"Mhm! I'll just have the same as you!" He answered, figuring that whatever you wanted to order must be good. Sighing with a chuckle, you brought your hand back to your side and called a server who had just finished talking to another table. They walked over with a smile, notebook opened and pen in hand.

"Hello, what do I get you both?"

"Ah, yes - can we get two orders of the latte tiramisu and two caramel hot chocolates to please?" You asked, but tilted your head when you realised just who your server was.

"Bang Christopher-ssi, is that you?"

He paused when he heard your question, turning to look at you and eyes widening when he did recognise you. Quickly ripping out a piece of paper from the back of his notebook, he wrote down his number and handed it to you. As he walked to the kitchen to get yours and Jisung's orders, the younger male you had arrived with let out a short 'hm'.

"Noona, who was that guy?" He asked, a small pout on his lips that you didn't fail to notice.

"Oh, him? He's my high school sunbae," smirking, you chuckled, "Yah, Park Jisung. Do I sense jealousy in that  tone of yours?" You teased, fixing your hair. With a tiny nod, Jisung's lips pressed together into a more prominent pout, which only accentuated the Bambi-like gaze in his eyes. Adorable. Shaking your head with a smile, you told Jisung the numerous stories about your time in high school, and how Christopher was more of an older brother to you than anything else. An annoying, competitive brother who just had to prove he was better, but a brother nonetheless. The new information did help to calm Jisung's doubts, but there still was a possibility - not that he wanted to acknowledge it in any way.

As your desserts arrived, you both thanked Chris, immediately digging into the sweet treats. Time seemed to fly by, as you both enjoyed each other's company. There weren't many students there, and Jisung was glad he could focus on you instead of wondering whether he'd be spotted by those in his class. You didn't miss how his eyes shone under the lighting of the dessert parlour, little twinkles decorating his brown eyes. How pretty.

The journey back to the dorms was quiet, a peaceful undisturbed calm between the pair of you that neither Jisung nor yourself wanted to interrupt. Flicking through your playlist as you sat on the bus together, you found the song you were looking for and tapped the younger male's arm, handing him one of your earbuds. He stared at it for a moment before snapping out of his 'zone-out' and accepted the earbud. Lips curling into a smile, Jisung swayed his head lightly as he looked out of the window, humming gently to the tune of your music.

When the bus stopped closeby the dorms, you nudged Jisung's arm gently; he'd dozen off on the way. Blinking away the sleep, he got up and you both got off the bus, walking towards the dorm building, the two of you entered and parted ways, heading to your respective rooms.

"Look who's finally back~" Was the sing-song from the kitchen that greeted you as you walked into your shared dorm room. Kicking off your shoes, you took a seat on the sofa and pulled your laptop onto your lap, instantly picking up where you left off in your assignment.

"Yeah, yeah~ don't tell me you missed me, Wong Yukhei?" You teased, flipping your hair as you returned to working on your assignment, Excitable - well, more than you were - Yukhei jumped from behind the sofa and sat behind you. Eyes trained on the paper you were drafting up for your assignment, he hummed softly, watching your fingers type before he looked to you.

"I'll admit, I kinda missed you. Tell me what happened! Who were you with?  What did you do~?" You roommate of two years asked, taking the device away, saving the document and setting it back on the table despite your protests. You definitely were not getting any work done tonight. As you relayed the events of the day to Yukhei - who was watching with puppy-like curiosity - you found yourself smiling. And Yukhei definitely picked up on it.

"Hey~, what's that smile about huh? You don't happen to have a crush on your little first-year friend, do you?" Poking at your shoulder while he asked, Yukhei snickered while he watched you try to cover your blushing face. Not that it did all that much, your blush was still very much noticeable. It was cute though; the way you got flustered over Jisung.

"헐...so you do?"

"Ah - no I do not! Getting a hold of yourself, you denied - rather dramatically - that you had any romantic feelings for the 18-year-old. Jisung was, more of a younger brother than anything else. Though sometimes, it seemed like Jisung saw you as a woman he'd date, and not just his Noona. With a subtle smirk, Yukhei nodded, as though there was something he knew that he wasn't telling you. Or at least, something he wouldn't tell you without a fair bit of bribery involved.

"Sure~~ you don't-" Before you could react by hitting his arm for teasing you, Yukhei shot up, hands raised as he feigned innocence.

"Well, would you look at the time?! I'm gonna head to bed now, goodnight!"

"Wong Yukhei...I swear-"

When morning arrived the next day, you found yourself drenched in your own sweat, throat sore and scratchy as you coughed. You'd most likely contracted a cold while you were out the previous day. Shaking as you pulled yourself up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, your door cracked open and Yukhei peered his head through the door. With a little wave of his hand, he invited himself in, grabbing a chair and pulling it closer so he could sit near you. A sympathetic smile on his face, Yukhei put his hand to your forehead, testing your temperature against his own. There was no denying it; you had a fever.

"Gosh Y/N, your head's on fire. You sit here, and I'll make breakfast -" hand out to try and convince your concerned roommate otherwise, Yukhei shook his head and placed your hand back by your side, "- and no, you sit yourself down.  I am not letting my sick roommate get out of bed without eating. Alright?"

"Alright, alright. Just, don't make me a lot, yeah? I don't really have much of an appetite." Tilting his head to the side with an understanding nod, Yukhei ruffled your hair and left for the kitchen. Laying back down and grabbing your phone, you scrolled through your social media until your received a text from Mark; he wanted to know whether you'd still be available for your study meet-up in the library later. Typing out your reply, you declined; citing your illness as the reason why. It was reasonable; you didn't want to get him sick. Accepting that he'd have to study alone that Saturday morning, Mark kept himself busy until he reached the library, talking to you about his latest dating exploits. Midway through typing your reply, Yukhei walked through the door, tray in-hand.

"Did someone order breakfast service~?" Setting the tray (of savoury pancakes, an omelette wrap and peppermint tea) on your bedside drawer, Yukhei walked over to your side, sitting beside you and brushing your hair out of your face. Despite the pair of you being the same age, there were times when he treated you pretty much the same way your dad would. It was nice. Telling Mark over text that you were gonna go and eat, you put your phone to the side and pulled the tray onto your lap.

"I didn't know you could cook like this Wong Yukhei~, maybe I should get sick more often then?" You teased, which was met with a disapproving look from your roommate. "Alright, alright~ I get it. Thanks though. Don't you have your dance practice to get to?"

Yukhei and many of your other male friends were part of an off-campus dance team, and Saturday was the one day in the week where all 21 of them would dedicate themselves to practice. You knew that Mark, Yukhei, Jisung and his friends were part of the group, but you'd never met the others. Checking the time on his phone, Yukhei shrugged.

"Practice is 10-odd hours on Saturday. I can stay a couple of hours to look after you." Quickly texting his dance team's group chat, Yukhei put his phone away, pressed a fatherly kiss to your forehead and let you eat your breakfast, closing the door behind him.

Breakfast finished, an attempt at getting freshened up made, you exited your room and carried the empty dishes to the sink. Dragging yourself to your sofa, you let yourself collapse onto the sofa, a hand reaching for the remote. Watching a movie or two wouldn't hurt. Scrolling through Netflix, you were stuck on whether to watch 'Train to Busan' or catching up on some dramas you had yet to finish. You knew that either option was bound to make you shed tears at some point, but you didn't mind. A good cry was needed sometimes. Finally deciding that you were going to watch 'Train to Busan', your phone buzzed as you were just about to start the movie. It was Jisung; he'd just seen the group message from Yukhei and asked to see you after practice was over. Quickly starting up the film, you reached for your phone and replied; of course, he could come. Some company was always appreciated.

By sunset, you were home alone and watching your 10th movie of the day (or night, depending on who you asked). Sipping on the hot chocolate you had made for yourself during the last part of the previous movie, you took a deep breath and swallowed; yep, your throat was still sore. The door knocked as you put the mug down, and for a moment, you wondered about exactly who was at your door. Wasn't Yukhei's dance practice not over for at least another hour or so? Getting up to go answer the door, you opened it and airily laughed at the sight in front of you; Jisung stood there, hair messy from what looked like a shower, a bag of snacks and a cheerful grin on his face. Succumbing to the urge to ruffle his hair, you played with his bangs after you let him inside. As you both sat down, you put your arm over his shoulder - and unbeknownst to you, of course - Jisung's pulse started to r.

"And here I was thinking you weren't going to be coming for another hour. How come you left early?" You asked, lips curling into a soft smile. Avoiding direct eye-contact, Jisung focused his attention on the snacks in his lap, handing you one of the multiple bags.

" Oh um - my professor gave our class an essay to do, like, out of the blue. So...Jaemin hyung and I left earlier." You didn't doubt that he had been given extra work to do - your first-year professors would do the same - but it sounded more like Jisung was convincing himself rather than you. Convincing himself that he only came early because he had the time, and not because his heart would flutter when he spent time with you. Absolutely not.

Wishing him luck with his essay, you started up the film; a marvel film you had been meaning to rewatch for a while. Going to the kitchen to grab drinks, you returned to the sofa with two glasses and bottles of Sprite and Coke in hand. Attention focused on the movie and getting a snack every so often, Jisung was sure that you didn't see the way his gaze would linger on you. As much as he loved the movie that was on screen, he loved you more. So much more.

When Yukhei finally arrived back to the dorm that night, he kept his laugh as quiet as possible while a tired smile found its way onto his features. You and Jisung were more than fast asleep, his head on your shoulder and your head on his. Resisting the ever-growing urge to snap a picture (or many, many pictures - for blackmail purposes. What else?), Yukhei snuck into his room, grabbed a spare blanket and covered the sleeping duo in front of him. Cleaning up the table, turning off the television, your roommate made sure that the living room was clean before heading to his room to call it a night.

Sunday morning arrived, and Jisung was awoken by the buzz of his phone in his pocket. How it still had any battery life was beyond him. Rubbing at his eyes, he froze when it dawned on him that you'd both fallen asleep during your movie night and that you were resting your head against his. Lifting your head gently, the first-year - painstakingly slowly - stood up, moving your head so you were resting against the back of the sofa. Hesitating,  Jisung exhaled, gathered himself and pressed a feather-light kiss to your forehead. Yawning as he headed to the bathroom to freshen up, the 18-year-old caught how Yukhei watched him with an amused upturn in his brow. There were certainly a few questions he'd have to answer.

Sunday's meant breakfast as the local brunch cafe, and by the time you had woken up, both Jisung and Yukhei were talking amongst themselves. From the snippets of conversation you had heard, they were talking about their latest performance...and you. Deciding to go ask them after you changed and looked remotely ready, you joined the pair at the table, pouring yourself a glass of water from the jug.

"I kept you two waiting, huh?"

"Yes! My gosh Y/N, you sleep forever!" Yukhei answered, barely skipping a beat with his sassy remark. Luckily, you two were roommates as well as best friends, and murder happened to be a little illegal. Resorting to playfully elbowing his arm, you feigned innocence, brushing off his complaining with a shrug and a smile.

"You - you didn't make us wait too long Noona, we can go now~!" Jisung replied, a mixture of excitement and nerves hidden beneath his words.

The brunch cafe was warm and inviting that morning, and the three of you ate breakfast together, little said to each other as you all enjoyed your meals. You were definitely bringing Jisung with you to breakfast from now on.  While you had gone to the bathroom, Yukhei immediately turned to Jisung. The younger male looked up from his drink, eyes blinking like a deer in headlights.

"Jisung-ah~, do you like anyone?" Said male looked up from the coffee in his hands to his older friend, his eyes turning red by the second.

"Do, do I like anyone? Why so suddenly?"

"Oh, no reason," he sang, "just that you've been around Y/N a lot lately. Like - a lot, a lot. Wanna ask her out?" After Yukhei's rather straight-to-the-point question, Jisung was rubbing the back of his neck, nodding subtly while he cleared his throat. When you returned - after making a detour to buy a water bottle - to your seat, Yukhei looked to the younger male with a wink and smug grin, before obnoxiously clearing his throat a little too loud. Turning to him with a confused stare, he only shrugged.

"Well, I'd love to stay, but I've gotta run~!" Before you could reply, he grabbed his stuff and got out of his seat.

"Yah! Am I paying for you?!"

"I'll pay you back!" With that, he left the cafe and you sighed, shaking your head with an amused scoff. So help you everything holy, you'd refrain from going after him. Both breakfasts finished, you helped Jisung clear up the table, and only finally (at least, to Jisung) had you caught on to his nervous body language. Observing him for a few seconds, you took him by the hand and walked to the park, Jisung trailing behind by a couple of paces. Reaching the park, you sat down at a bench, Jisung following suit. Nothing was said for a moment; the air was awkward for the first time since you'd become friends.

The words were there, he could say them, but he also just couldn't. You'd most likely have to wring it out of him. "Jisung, there's something you want to tell me, isn't there?"

"There is something I want to say..."

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 3

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3422

Author’s Note: Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you. Thanks to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do. 

@thoughtslikeaminefield​ , babe, I love you, and I love this story so much.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Breathe, sweetheart, take a deep breath and hold it. Watch me, follow my breathing.” Dean’s hands, warm and solid against her clammy skin, hold her face so she has no choice but to look right at him. 

His eyes pierce the haze of fear that locks her lungs, and she pulls in her first shaking breath since she spotted the doll. She must have screamed, because one moment she was alone with the damned thing, and the next he was by her side, pulling her out of the room.

“Come with me, we’re getting out of here. Right now.” In a habit that miraculously stayed with her since she first knew him, Kimber stumbles after Dean, her fingers clutching his with a level of desperation that would leave her shamed if she had the thought capacity to care right now.

They’re out the front door, in his car, and speeding away before she even realizes he’s on the phone. 

“Yeah, Sam, I saw the doll on her bed. Front door was definitely locked when we got there, but I didn’t get a chance to check the windows or back door. She’s talked to the cops before this, they didn’t do shit then, but maybe now that the bastard actually went in her house. I’m taking her back to the motel.” 

He’s silent for a long moment, listening intently, his lips pressed thin and tense. Her face is wet, and she realizes she’s crying. She takes a moment to wipe away the tears streaming from her eyes, discreetly clearing her throat. She has a strange, disconnected moment of panic when she realizes she left her purse in the house and the door unlocked, but she shoves the words back down her throat so fast she nearly chokes.

That horrible...thing...on her bed, and she’s worried about her purse?!

Priorities, Kimber, she scolds herself. Dean is talking when she comes back to the moment, and she catches him mid-sentence.

“-agree with Kimber, I think it’s probably a witch. Gonna check for hex bags, ask her about anybody that might have a motive. We’ll go over her house when you get here, but I’m gonna try to keep her out of sight in the meantime. Don’t have a tail, but I’ll keep an eye on the way to the motel. See ya in the morning.”

He hangs up, eyes flicking over to Kimber then back to the road.

“How you holdin’ up?” The genuine concern in his voice breaks through the worst of her panic, giving her something other than her growing dread to focus on.

“I...I’ve been better. I mean, I know that nothing actually happened, but...Dean, I-”

“Oh, no, I totally get it,” he says, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. “Fucking dolls, I hate ‘em. That creepy shit absolutely ain’t right. Anyway, we had no idea if someone was still at your place. Better to high-tail it, regroup, and plan than get stuck in a shootout with somethin’ that might not even go down with a bullet or five in it. You heard me talkin’ to Sam?”

She nods, doing her best to hide her sniffling. Without a word, he opens the glove box, pulls out a napkin, and hands it to her. She takes it gratefully, failing in her attempt to discreetly blow her nose while boxed into a moving vehicle.

“Thanks. The thing is, though, as far as I know, nobody has a motive to want to hurt me.”

This time he only lifts one eyebrow. “You, a college professor in a highly specialized academic area that’s typically full of eccentrics at best and nutbags at worst, have no students with chips on their shoulders? No jealous colleagues? Never forgot to tip the barista or leave a Christmas bonus for the janitors? Really?”

Her face heats up. She’s thinking like a scared kid, and she should know better. She may not be a hunter, but she knows the lore, knows the signs, and she really should know better.

“Okay, you’re right, you’re right. I’m not thinking clearly. Just...gimme a sec to get my head on straight.” 

She sucks in a sharp, deep breath through her nose, focusing on a droplet of water that’s sliding down her window. She presses air slowly from her lungs, watching the drop gain speed as it joins with more water dotting the outside of the glass, repeating the process until the raindrop slips off the window and her thoughts are focused again.

“I haven’t actually had to fail anyone in my classes lately, but I suppose someone could have held a grudge from previous semesters or just not been satisfied with a lower passing grade. As far as I know, no one in the department is jealous of my position. I’m not really anything special, literally just a glorified storyteller. I’m not on any boards or committees, I haven’t received any awards in a few semesters. No particular nutbags lately, but…”

She frowns as he pulls the car into a motel parking lot. Something is tugging at the back of her mind, an almost non-incident from a few Thursdays ago. She’d dismissed the conversation as random but harmless, but even the smallest details could be life or death. She’s been shown this over and over in her dealings with hunters. It’s about time she learned from other people’s mistakes.

“There was something, a few weeks ago, but I can’t quite remember,” she says, frustrated at how inadequate her memory is proving at the moment. The vestiges of panic still cling to the edges of her mind, leaving her thoughts scrambled and disjointed. 

“Think on it. Let’s get checked in, get somethin’ to eat, and you can tell me then,” Dean offers. 

She smiles her appreciation at the reprieve and climbs out of the car to follow Dean into the motel office. She uses the time Dean spends, first talking and then arguing with the clerk, to jog her memory, trying to recall everything she can about her encounter at the end of a self-defense class the previous month. 

It had seemed so harmless at the time, and nothing odd happened afterwards. At least, not that night. But as she stands next to Dean, straining her memory, she realizes Helen’s accident was just two days later. Her unseen watcher trailed her for the first time a week after Helen’s fall. Then Professor Lawrence a few days after that, and just last week Allen and the stapler.

She feels the heat of shame flooding her face. She’s a researcher by profession. How did she never put the pattern together? People have been hurt, nearly died, because she was too stupid to connect some dots? 

“I connect dots for a goddamn living,” she mutters to herself, earning her an odd glance from Dean. He turns back to the clerk, who shrugs.

“Take it or leave, sir.”

“Fine,” Dean growls, shoving a credit card at the man. Five minutes later, Dean unlocks the door to a room with two queen-size beds whose decor calls strongly back to a decade long past and best forgotten.

“I think they decorated this place before we were born,” she murmurs, earning her a tired smile from Dean. “At least it’s clean?”

He nods, tossing his bag on the bed nearest the window. “Sorry we have to share, they’re full up. Some sort of convention in town?” 

She hesitates, her stomach fluttering uneasily at the thought of a wall between her and Dean. “I don’t mind. I think...maybe it’s safer this way, in one room. I would offer to get dinner, since you paid for the room, but…” She trails off, empty hands spread at her sides. 

“Not a problem,” he says, dropping down on the bed and reaching for the phone. “Know anywhere good that delivers?”

 Forty minutes and two cheeseburger combos later, Dean lifts her reprieve and presses her for information again. The food helped ground Kimber’s jittery brain, and she’s thinking clearly for the first time since she spotted the doll.

“A few weeks ago, after self-defense class concluded, a guy came up to me. I’d never noticed him before, I thought he was new, but he said he’d seen me a few times and wanted to know if i would go get coffee with him. I wouldn’t have said yes, regardless, because...I mean, picking up dates at a self-defense class? Feels kinda predatory.”

Dean nods, lips pursed as he listens. He’s stretched out on his bed while she’s opted to sit in one of the two chairs by the table a few feet away. Kimber scrubs her face with her hands before running them back through her hair. 

“I just...I got this weird vibe off him, though, Dean. He may have found me attractive, I don’t know, but I seriously doubt it. He didn’t really want to ask me out. I have no clue why he asked; I could tell he wasn’t into me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, his face was kind of stoney the whole time? Almost like someone put him up to it even though he really didn’t want to?”

Dean frowns, just as perplexed as she is.

She sighs, resting her chin in her palms and elbows on her knees. “I know. He was acting just a little too off. On top of that, I didn’t know him at all, so I turned him down. I wasn’t rude, at least I don’t think I was. He just accepted it, though; he didn’t push or even look upset. He didn’t really look anything at all. He just left. I didn’t see him in class again after that, and, honestly, I’m certain I had never seen him before.”

Dean rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t...I mean, yeah, maybe. A strong maybe,” he conceded. “But we need more information. Even if that guy is our perp, we need to find out more about what’s actually going on. Sam can help me look over your place tomorrow; you and I can search your office. We should check out the other accident scenes. Did anyone else in your class see the guy or talk to him?”

“Maybe the teacher?” Kimber offers, stifling a yawn. She’s weary to the bone and suspects she may still be feeling the after-effects of shock. She stands, intending to hit the shower in the bathroom, when she remembers just how quickly they had to leave her house.

“Um...Dean, I didn’t get to...we left my place so quickly. Do you have anything to wear that I could...borrow?” She doesn’t mean to sound so hesitant and vulnerable, but her emotional filter is fading with her energy, and she doesn’t have it in her to put up a tough front.

His eyes widen, and he jumps up from the bed to rifle through his sports bag. He reaches out, holding what looks like a white t-shirt and pajama pants. She takes a step towards him to accept them just as he moves over to meet her, and they both stop just shy of a full-body collision.

His fingers brush her skin as she accepts the clothes, and she’s annoyed at how her hands tremble from the brief touch. Her eyes flick up to find him watching her, his color high and lips parted. His hands close more solidly around hers, fingers rough and welcome against her wrists. Her pulse quickens, and that cold spot near her heart ratchets up a couple more degrees. 

His pupils dilate in response, black circles swallowing the mossy irises. Dean’s tongue flashes over his lower lip as he swallows convulsively, and her eyes track the movement. She wonders for the span of a single breath if he still tastes the way she remembers. It would be so easy to find out; just step in, drop the clothes.

All she has to do, really, is reach out.

…

Her fingers paused halfway between them, hesitating. He glanced up from his plate of pie, eyeing her curiously. Feeling suddenly, deliciously brave, she brushed her thumb over his lower lip, swiping a bit of whipped cream he’d unknowingly smeared there. She sucked her thumb for just a moment, self-consciously looking away as her cheeks blazed red. 

She’d never been so forward before, brazen even, and while she was proud of her courage, she was still shocked she’d had such nerve. She risked a peek at him across the table just in time to see him flick his own tongue over the exact spot her thumb had just been. He caught his lower lip under his teeth, grinning at her, somehow looking just as flushed and off-balance as she felt.

“You, uh...taste good,” he murmured, eyes shining. She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up at his sweet, simple sincerity. 

“You do, too.”

They had finished tutoring early, and it was only their second week. Dean was keeping up just fine in class, so she was more than happy to accept his invitation for a snack at the nearby diner. The day was pretty warm for mid-September, and they were technically still supposed to be at the library, so she asked if he’d like to maybe take a walk and talk some more.

“You’re just using me for my stories,” he said with a mock pout as they strolled down the sidewalk. “Is that all I am to you? A source of entertainment?”

“Dean, you’re the best show on. I wouldn’t even skip the reruns.” She felt so light around him, so comfortable and giddy all at once, like he was sucking the oxygen from her atmosphere while giving it right back to her all at once.

Just when she felt like her chest might burst holding all this inside, she reached out and linked her fingers through his. She felt a slight falter in his stride (or maybe she imagined it), and they walked on. She asked him about his family. He told her less about his Dad, more about his little brother, and nothing about his mom, but mostly he asked questions.

What did she like to read? Where was the best pie in town, because that place was not it. Where did she have her favorite birthday party growing up? What did she want to do when she graduated? Favorite family vacation? Favorite holiday? Was it as awesome being an only child as it seemed, or were there actually drawbacks he didn’t know about? What did she really think of his jacket, be honest?

Eventually, they found themselves back at her house, not quite time for her to be home yet. She was reluctant to say good-bye, and if his grip on her hand was any indication, so was he.

“I know!” she said suddenly. She tugged his arm, leading the way around her house and into the backyard. Neither of her parents were home from work, so she didn’t have to worry about their well-meaning interrogation as to why she was dragging the new boy around by the arm.

“Ta-da!” She spread her arms wide, grinning as she indicated the treehouse she and her dad had built together only a few years earlier. “Best craftsmanship, all the comforts of home, minus electricity, heat, air conditioning, and plumbing!”

“You mean it’ll hold us both, and there's some pillows and blankets up there?” He laughed, his grin growing as she glowed back at him. 

“You get me so well!” she squealed, grabbing his hand and tugging him forward again. “Come on!”

Though the structure swayed ever so slightly, it didn’t embarrass her by creaking, and there was plenty of room for the two of them to prop up against one of the walls, stretching their legs out on the nest of cushions and blankets she kept up there during good weather.

Rather than settling down, her heart began to beat against her ribs so loudly she was certain Dean could hear it. Her shoulder brushed his, and she could feel every minute shift of his body. Her nostrils flared a little as she steeled herself and turned to meet his intent gaze.

“I would really love to kiss you right now,” he said, his voice low and velvet soft. 

“Does that usually work on girls?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes glued to his impossibly lush mouth.

“Why, is it working on you?” The raw want in his voice was unmistakable, even to her inexperienced ears. No boy had ever looked at her the way Dean was right now, as if he’d never seen anyone else he’d rather kiss. He reached up, slid his fingers into her hair, thumb brushing her cheekbone.

“Yeah, it, um...it really is.”

He tasted of cherry pie and coffee. Years later, she would recognize that kiss as the moment her dependency on the caffeinated beverage began, but at the time, she wouldn’t have recognized her own mother. His lips moved gently, so tenderly it stole her breath and made some random spot in her chest clench painfully. 

She turned, leaning across him, almost on her knees. Her fingers slid over the impossibly silky bristles on the back of his neck. He shivered under her touch, lips parting from hers as he sucked in a sharp pull of air. 

“Kimber,” he murmured, eyes closed. She nudged the tip of his nose with her own, her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed the smallest of kisses to the corner of his lips. Dean’s breath caught, and then he pulled her up into his lap suddenly, tilting her head just so before claiming her mouth again.

She didn’t know how long they sat in the treehouse exactly like that, learning each other’s contours and tastes, trading kisses and caresses but nothing more, until she heard the front door of the house close. 

Kimber jerked upright, shocked as if she’d been dashed with a bucket of ice water. She’d honestly forgotten there was a whole world that existed outside the two of them in the treehouse. The sun was much lower in the sky, almost gone in fact.

“It’s almost dark, Dean, I have to go inside.” She spoke reluctantly, the words pulled out against her will. She didn’t ever want to be responsible, even indirectly, for telling Dean he had to leave.

Dean’s chest rose and fell rapidly, one hand holding tight to her waist as the other began to reluctantly untangle from her hair. He leaned forward, brushed her lips with his one last time before wordlessly encouraging her to put herself to rights.

Kimber checked the backyard to make sure the coast was clear before leading Dean down the ladder to the ground. 

“If you go that way,” she said, pointing out a thin spot in the hedge at the far side of her yard, “it’ll take you right out to Evergreen Drive. One more block over, and you’ll be on the same street as the school.” He nodded, glancing in the direction before turning back to her. 

God, his eyes. 

She was frozen to the spot and on fire all at once. In all her seventeen years, she’d never felt anything as intense as Dean just looking at her. How did he do that?

“I think I’m going to, uh...need a few more study sessions,” he said softly. “We might need to really get...in depth with the material.” This time his smile was a little shy, a lot less cocky than the first time she worked with him. And yet there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that let her know Dean Winchester would absolutely be worth every bit of trouble he got her into.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” she said, intentionally not addressing his statement. For one thing, she didn’t think she could match his level of casual innuendo without sounding like a complete idiot. For another, she didn’t trust herself to respond without turning bright red. 

She turned towards her house when Dean seized her hand, yanked her carefully back, and caught her face between both of his palms. This time the kiss was blazing, not a trace of the gentleness from the last hour, and when he finally released her, she stood dazed and shaken, staring at him completely unfocused.

“See ya,” he said. He grinned as he released her and turned, loping across her yard with an easy grace before disappearing into the hedge. ...

Chapter 4

[dipplie]

This is how I cope don’t @ me

1: Top 3 pets you wish to have Bunny, Mouse, pet bee 2: Top 3 Disney Movies Tangled, Zootopia, and a close tie between The Princess and the Frog and Wreck it Ralph 3: Top 3 OTPs Nick and Judy (I’m not a furry), honestly probably the other pairings from my 3 (4) favorite movies like Felix and Calhoun or Tiana and Naveen or whatever 4: Top 3 pick up lines Pick me up- no literally please just carry me around like sweep me off my feet no like ACTUALLY like ju- 5: Top 3 summer activities Lying in the grass, listening to music on the swings, drinking from the neighbors sprinklers because you didn’t bring water on your walk 6: Top 3 school memories    -Once in 5th grade we were doing an egg drop, and I put mine off till the day before, so my parents just gave me a jar of peanut butter, and I just put the egg in the jar, and when they dropped it from the school roof it exploded all over the pavement and left a stain for years.    -Another time in 9th grade, a couple friends and I wrote a giant “send nuds” in the snow beneath my friends next class’s window, and some other kids took a picture of it and spread it around, and like the whole school was talking about it for a day or two (though we denied it was us so we didn’t get in trouble).    -And in 12th grade the last day of the 3rd semester, my AP Psych teacher said “you know you guys might not come back after spring break since the covid-19 virus might come to America.” And half the class was like: “I hope so we don’t have to come back haha.” And then we went into lockdown for a year 7: Top 3 things you find attractive Being looked at, Being talked to, Being touched at all oh my go d 8. Top 3 shops I dunno man can I say Build-a-Bear Workshop I’ve never been there 9: Top 3 romantic dates Theme park, Aquarium, Build-a-Bear Workshop 10: Top 3 drinks Milk, Milkshakes, the color purple 

11: Top 3 spices/herbs oh my god im too white for this question I think doritios are spicy, SALT 12: Top 3 apps to use not tumblr 13: Top 3 months of the year not winter 14: Top 3 clothing items Skirt, Bows, Thigh-highs 15: Top 3 kinds of flower Daffodils, Buttercups, Dandelions (yes I’m aware they’re a weed) 16: Top 3 Christmas movies Home Alone 1, Those stop motion rudolph ones, the original grinch 17: Top 3 things you don’t/Won’t miss Angsty middle schoolers, Angsty high schoolers, Angsty people 18: Top 3 games Minecraft, Stardew Valley, All the Zelda games between 2002-2009 19: Top 3 binge perfect tv shows I really don’t watch actually T.V. shows I just watch anime sometimes maybe and youtube series man 20: Top 3 kinds of candy Butterscotch, Chocolate coins, Those little pebble chocolates that looks like fish tank rocks 21: Top 3 ways to exercise/be active Well I have an answer, but I don’t think I can say it~ 22: Top 3 spirit animals (I’ve heard something about this being possibly racist so I’ll approach this wish caution) Bunnies, Lambs, a pet rock 23: Top 3 petnames Honey, Muffin, Sweetheart 24: Top 3 places you’ve been to A yearly carnival my old town had once a year, Disney World even though I almost drowned there, The Arcade in my old town called Bananas 25: Top 3 most used websites Youtube, Tumblr (regrettably), Pintrest 26: Top 3 people you last texted My boyfriend, my friend, my co-worker friend 27: Top 3 hashtags you use imagine using the tags how they’re supposed to be used 28 Top 3 items you can’t leave the house w/o clothes (i’m really funny) 29: Top 3 guilty pleasures I write self-insert sometimes I guess 30: Top 3 subjects of study/classes to take Psychology, Sociology, certain art classes 31: Top 3 things to draw/doodle My OC’s, My friends, inappropriate stuff 32: Top 3 aesthetics Cottagecore, Bloomcore, Wonderland 33: Top 3 things you’d buy if you gained three million dollars Pretty things, Cute Clothes and stuffed animals, therapy 34: Top 3 ways to treat yourself Buying pretty things, Wearing cute clothes and holding stuffed animals, therapy 35: Top 3 cartoon crushes Kyoya from OHHC, Mako from Kill La Kill, Marceline/Marshall Lee 36: Top 3 things to do in the snow Draw in it, make snow sculptures, eat it 37: Top 3 accents to hear Russian, Spanish, idk spanish 2 38: Top 3 scents Vanilla, Cream, Strawberries 39: Top 3 things to do in the rain Sit in the car quietly, make out probably, cry 40: Top 3 cupcake flavors Chocolate, Chocolate 2, Chocolate 3 41: Top 3 fruits Cherries, Strawberries, Grapes 42: Top 3 holidays to celebrate Halloween, Christmas, Valentines 43: Top 3 embarrassing moments My friend jokingly revealing my weird self insert fanfic I wrote in middle school (that was gross don’t ask about it) to my friend group, getting a constant D- in AP Stats the whole semester and the whole class secretly knowing about it, wearing an oversized minecraft shirt in my 6th grade school picture 44: Top 3 crayola colors Seafoam, Canary, Cotton Candy 45: Top 3 things you hope to accomplish in college Get back into theater and actually be included and noticed, not cry in the bathroom, feel cared about by my classmates 46: Top 3 fanfictions you’ve read don’t ask me that you can’t ask me that the last fanfics i’ve read were in middle school  47: Top 3 people you miss right now My boyfriend, Two of my friends GJ, my dopamine  48: Top 3 fears Being hated, Being alone, Being abandoned 49: Top 3 favorite literary devices (oh god it’s been a minute hang on) Alliteration, Juxtaposition, Colloquialism 50: Top 3 pet peeves Saying one thing and doing another, trying to act like you’re being the bigger person by not choosing a side, constant self deprecation 51: Top 3 music artists AJR, 3OH!3, Fake Type 52: Top 3 bad habits BFRD OCD, speaking before I think, lately I’ve been lashing out  53: Top 3 ice cream flavors Cookie Dough, Bubblegum, Cheesecake 54: Top 3 meals you love Bread and cheese, cheese with bread, I like dairy and bread 55: Top 3 things you want to say to someone in your lifetime Where are we going, What are we gonna do, what are you doing onii-chan (im so sorry) 56: Top 3 dog breeds Small, fluffy, actually a cat 57: Top 3 TV shows from your childhood The Amazing World of Gumball, Courage the Cowardly Dog, y’all remember Might Bee??? 58: Top 3 languages you speak/wish to speak Better French, More ASL, I guess Spanish would be useful 59: Top 3 series (book, movie, television) I like the first couple Saw movies but then it went kind of downhill, I eventually stopped keeping up with SU ad AT but they have lesbians now and we love that, and I guess I read Warrior Cats in middle school. 60: Top 3 pizza toppings Cheese, ???, that’s all I need 61: Top 3 youtubers you’re subscribed to Markiplier, Erolds Story, Wilbur Soot 62: Top 3 tattoo / piercing ideas Little Flower earrings, Little flower tattoos, Little flower stuff 63: Top 3 awards you want to win love trust and affection  64: Top 3 emojis 🍄🐝🍋 65: Top 3 things you’d do differently have different parents 66: Top 3 places to be in the world In love, Back up, Purgatory  67: Top 3 things you miss about being a kid Lack of responsibility and pressure, Mental illness, Lack of shame 68: Top 3 baby names Penelope, Theodore, Sofie 69: Top 3 smoothie combos/flavors Grape, Strawberry, Cherry 71: Top 3 turn ons People being patient with me, People treating me equally, Being touched kindly at ALL 72: Top 3 turn offs looking like Tyler1 73: Top 3 recipes you want to try Sugar spice and everything nice 74: Top 3 dream jobs Primary School Teacher, Child Consoler/Therapist, I dunno being a storytime animator sounds nice... 75: Top 3 lucky items Fidget Toys, Stuffed Animals, Random Office Supplies (you know the ones)

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Need A Best Friend

anonymous said: Hi there, love! I was wondering if you could do some fluffy Rami x reader where they were really close in college and she is brutally OBSESSED with Queen. (Fast forward to filming BoRhap) Rami brings her on set and finally confesses the feelings he's had for her the whole time as Freddie. (Freakin' love your writing ❤️)

“Rami, you know I don’t like surprises!”

Rami rolled his eyes playfully, rubbing the sleep from them as he shifted a bit in the backseat of the car that had picked you both up bright and early to take you out to Rockfield Farm. He’d flown you out to London on the premise that he missed you and wanted to show you the secret project he was currently working on. You’d said yes, on the conditions that he didn’t make you sleep on the bed while he took the couch or chair – or worse, the floor. You knew Rami like the back of your hand, and many-a-night in his dorm you’d had to argue with him for hours on how it was his bed, not yours.

“Y/N, you love surprises more than anyone I know. Don’t even try that with me.” Grinning sheepishly, you glanced over your shoulder at him as the England countryside whirred on by the window, and Rami felt a stirring in his heart that had been mainly dormant since waking this morning, only fluttering once upon realizing the domesticity of brushing his teeth side by side with you in the bathroom.

“You got me,” you giggled, and as your eyes turned back out the window, he found himself wishing that an alternate version of those words was true now more than ever.

“Late night at Ridgway. C’mon. Rami. Late. Night. At. Ridgway.” You were in Graves Res Hall, pushing on a sleeping (or trying, really) Rami who’d made the mistake of copying his dorm key so you could get in whenever you wanted. You’d done the same, of course, but right now he was regretting it as he sat up in his bed, groaning softly and stretching before hugging his legs.

“What time is it?” he croaked, checking the alarm clock next to his bed to find it was just past midnight, the 12:10 staring him back in the face. Looking up at you and blinking blearily, he found you grinning dopily, only outlined by the aggressive red light from the clock. Even then, he could tell you were just a tad tipsy, your eyes glazed over as you leaned all your weight on the bed, waiting impatiently. “Late night at Ridgway? Do they even have that on Monday nights?”

“Absolutely!” you replied cheerily, holding out a pair of sweatpants and slides for him. “And I’m craving waffles, so let’s get a move on, Malek. It’s only open for another hour and some change.”

“God, why do I put up with you?” he teased gently, taking the grey sweatpants and starting to pull them on as he hopped off the bed. His eyebrows furrowed as you kneeled down in front of him, holding out the slides so he could put his feet into them, and an unrelenting blush accompanied the baffled expression when you looked up at him from where you sat (see: wobbled) back on your heels. The point of view was too suggestive for his liking, especially in the dark at 12-something in the morning, and your silly grin as he watched you was heartwrenching. So, he cleared his throat and put his feet in the slides quickly. “Can I at least go to the bathroom before we leave?”

“I suppose I can let ya do that,” you groaned playfully, climbing back to your feet before falling back into the beanbag chair nearby with a small ‘oof.’

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking off for the bathroom at a hurried pace.

The morning light that started to filter in through the window as you drove was giving you a glow as Rami watched you gaze out over the changing landscape, the rolling hills and lush greenery interspersed with some very dark mud that was a product of last night’s rain. You were ethereal to him, an Elysian being that was somehow stuck in the back of a crud-covered Ford Focus with him, a hopelessly devoted man who’d been crushing on a girl for close to 18 years.

“Are you excited to see what I’ve been working on? You’ll shit a brick.” Rami’s voice lulled you out of your trance, and you turned to face the tawny-skinned, curly-haired man you’d grown to love as your favorite human.

“I wish you’d just tell me,” you pouted, and the way your bottom-lip jutted out was dangerous to Rami’s will. Ignoring the tremble in your plump, peachy, lower lip, he instead met your eyes with his own observant green ones, giving you a knowing smile.

“No way in hell.”

“Rami, gun to your head, stop showering or stop brushing your teeth?” you asked lazily, leaned up against one of the trees in the expansive lawn on campus. It was a pretty nice day for April, so you and Rami had elected to leave Bower and instead study on the lawn since finals were rapidly approaching. Lately, it felt like you’d been cooped up in the Fine Arts building, so it was a welcome relief. Rami laid on his stomach nearby, sprawled out with a book that had him invested until you’d distracted him moments ago out of your own sheer boredom.

“Oh, God, stop. That’s so gross,” he groaned, burying his face in his book for a moment before sitting up again and sighing melodramatically. “Showering, if I had to choose.”

“Really?” you asked, peeking over your book at him and catching his eye and he propped himself up on his elbows again. His hair was short, buzzed after a recent attempt at a perm he didn’t need anyways, and he looked completely put on the spot as he caught you staring at him questioningly. “Interesting.”

“What’s so interesting about it?” he asked, crossing his olive-skinned arms over one another as he furrowed his eyebrows at you, his book of no interest to him now. He had a pretty girl’s undivided attention, and it was doubly as exciting that it was you, his best friend and someone he’d grown to be quite fond of lately.

“I don’t know, I just… you’d be so stinky.” Your nose wrinkled a bit at the thought, an action that was fatally adorable and made Rami grin a bit as he looked down at his book, not really reading it.

“Yeah, but rotting teeth? No thank you.” Looking up again, he raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Are you really gonna choose no teeth over stinky pits?”

Another nose wrinkle. “No way in hell…. Would you rather control your dreams or be able to rewatch them whenever you want?”

He quieted, looking off in the distance as he vaguely recalled a dream in which he’d had the opportunity to kiss you. He did it. Nerves that crippled him in real life weren’t a hindrance in the dream. A soft smile came to his lips, one you couldn’t read even if you tried.

“Rewatch them whenever I want.”

“You know, I kind of regret not splurging and studying abroad at Harlaxton while I had the chance,” you mused as Rockfield Farm drew nearer and nearer, Rami still delighted with your apparent obliviousness to the whole situation. He knew you knew about Rockfield/Ridge Farm. Being best friends with the biggest Queen fan alive was quite a daunting task when you had to keep your work on the film pretty much under wraps. “Just think England’s got so much culture.”

“I thought about it too, but it wasn’t feasible,” Rami lied, looking down at his phone for a moment to hide the shame in his eyes. He didn’t go because you didn’t. The moment you’d ruled it out as a possibility due to money being tight, Rami threw away his application.

“It’s fucking upsetting,” you mumbled, curled up on Rami’s cramped dorm bed with your head resting on his thigh, staring at the CD/radio player that was doing its best to crank out a bootlegged version of A Night at the Opera. His hands ran through your hair uneasily, knowing that anything could set you off at any moment. You had just realized that you couldn’t afford to study abroad next semester, and you were really banking on being able to do so because you’d be just a few hour’s drive away from the birthplace of your favorite band of all time – Queen.

Rami’s steady humming and gentle way with your hair was easing the sadness out of you, but there was still a hint of grief on your face as you closed your eyes, sighing softly. “This isn’t the only chance for you to ever see England and London, Y/N, it’s okay.”

“But what if it is, Rami?” you whined softly, sniffling a bit as the very real possibility of absolutely flopping in your theater studies hovered over you. “What if I become a nobody actress and never get the chance to leave this stupid little state?”

“Hey, don’t say that.” He frowned, pushing your hair back out of your face, and gave you a disgruntled look. “You are not going to fail, you’re going to be the best god damn actress out there – they’ll be begging you to come to London and you’ll probably have to buy a ticket for poor old Rami here just so he can see it.”

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned, but a laugh was evident in your voice as you rolled over, hiding your face in his shirt and trying to stifle laughs as he grinned. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“So what if I am? It’s still the truth,” he countered sassily, making you whine again as you hid your face more in his shirt, refusing to respond again and just sitting in silence with him. The soft sound of ’39 filled the quiet room, sending a pang through the hearts of both of you for different reasons.

Now you were getting impatient. Rockfield was less than a mile away, but you were thoroughly baffled at your surroundings. “Really, Rami, are you taking me out here to kill me and take my riches? I didn’t make that much money from my stint on my last show, so you’re not gaining much here.”

But Rami wasn’t quite listening, knowing that he needed to get into the zone soon so he could be ready to switch over into Freddie once he walked on set. “Hey, when we get there, Kelli’s going to take you over to catering while I start getting ready. Uh, try not to hurt yourself.”

“So confident in my abilities,” you teased, watching as Rockfield’s vaguely recognizable barn/studio came into view, surrounded by a multitude of vehicles, trailers, and the likes all swarmed by various personnel. “Hey, this is… No fucking way.” Realization dawned on you, registering quickly on your face, and your jaw went slack as you looked over to Rami, who was wearing a cheesy grin.

“Surprise?”

“Rami, no way in hell!” you reiterated, practically squealing as you grabbed onto his arm. “I thought this project was toast when Sacha left a few years ago, you didn’t fucking tell me you were the replacement! I fucking hate you! Oh my god, Rami, I’m so excited, I love this for you!”

“So many mixed signals,” he laughed, patting your hand with his gently, but you had a vice-like grip on his arm as you stared in awe at the set you were approaching, knowing that this was Rockfield Farm, one of the iconic studios that Queen had utilized for A Night at the Opera. And you knew that Brian or Roger had announced literally years ago that a movie was in the works, but some friends that you shared in the industry had let it slip that Sacha left over some disagreements. However, you’d never imagined that your best friend was the one to pick the role up.

“Rami, you are playing Freddie fucking Mercury and you didn’t tell me!” you gasped, gently pushing him away and staring at him in shock. “My favorite band of all time and I…. God, I want to hate you so much but I’m so freaking stoked for this I might pass out! Oh my god. This is so exciting! I’m so proud of you!”

At it again with the mixed signals, you excitedly grabbed his hand and squeezed it between yours, staring through the windshield as you approached the barn. While you watched the situation unfold, Rami watched you, hyperaware of how soft and warm your hands were around his own. It took him back to the first time he’d held hands with you, far before he’d realized how head over heels he was for his best friend.

“Lucky for you, you got paired up with the cutest girl in class,” you teased as you walked back to the other side of the stage, preparing to start your dialogue practice over yet again. Rami had broken character, laughing about a line that called him a Mona Lisa because of the way you’d said it. Now he was reclined back on his chair again, rolling his eyes playfully at your brash comment.

“I said I was worried about getting through the lines, that has nothing to do with your relative hotness.” He fingered through the short script for a second, then groaned out and looked over at you with an amused expression. “But damn it, we really are the cutest ones in class, aren’t we?”

He barely knew you at this point, the both of you only recently having befriended each other over this particular class – something about body language and physicality, how to convey your emotions not just through language. So the harmless flirting really was harmless, a way to ease the tension of trying to figure out a dialogue with an acquaintance. You knew Rami was from California, but you’d never seen his dorm and didn’t know he had a twin. He knew you were just recently 19 as of last week, but your shared apartment remained a mystery, and he couldn’t even name your hometown if he tried. You were basically strangers, yet to meet up outside of class, but there was a strange quality to your relationship that made it different – somehow, it was easier joking with each other than it was with any of the other friends you’d made since moving to Evansville a few months ago.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” you laughed, tossing a crumpled up sticky note at him before checking your watch and whining melodramatically. “Shit, our reserved time is up.” As if on cue, the rehearsal stage doors opened and another pair of students walked in, eyeing you as if they vaguely remembered you from class but wanted you out of sight immediately. Exhaling quickly and pushing your bangs back out of your face, you nodded to the exit. “Let’s bounce, maybe we can go grab some coffee and run through lines without you laughing like a hyena.”

“I do not sound like a hyena!” he gasped, clutching at his chest playfully but rising from the chair anyways and retrieving his bag from the side of the stage. Hopping off together, you chatted amiably as you made the trek across campus to the coffee shop, where you both grabbed a quick drink before settling in on the lawn. Rami stretched out casually as he leaned against the tree behind him, and you sat cross-legged, facing him and reading from the script in your lap.

And this time, you managed to get through the lines without an issue, even adding in a few notes as you went along for your interpretations of what should be happening physically at certain points.

“The whole point is, like, physicality, but we don’t want to overdo it, right?” you asked as you penned something into the margin, then took a sip of your coffee and took his hand with the other. Lacing your fingers into his, he watched on in subdued surprise as you squeezed his hand, then quickly switched to just clasping your hand around his. “So, when Marvelli is like ‘ahhh you’re the love of my life you’re the best even though you just called me mona lisa,’ I feel like-“ you had to pause as Rami giggled once, a knowing smile coming onto your face as you rolled your eyes. “I feel like he should grab Angie’s hand, but do we wanna go for the fingers interlocked thing, or just the classic hand hold sweaty hand thing?”

“I have no idea what you just said,” he admitted, still confused by your hand grasping his gently, and you groaned before demonstrating the same two hand-holds again. Finally, it clicked, and his mouth went into an o-shape as he nodded, trying to think about which one wouldn’t be too much and not how soft your hands were, because holy fuck they were soft and she’s kind of super cute so this is great. “Fingers interlocked.”

Rami back then would have never guessed he’d be here, now, holding your hand as he helped you out of the car and straight into the mud at Rockfield Farm. Never would that scrawny little college freshman had thought he’d be on his way to get his Freddie Mercury makeup done, hand in hand with the same girl since that day, day one.

“Don’t fall!” he laughed as you slipped in the mud a bit, gripping onto his hand for dear life, and you sent him a grateful look before finally making it to concrete, where you were both reluctant to let go. But after an awkward moment of not letting go, an assistant was quick to swoop Rami up and he had to drop your hand, a mild sadness filling his features as he promised that he’d be in the third trailer down.

“Y/N?” a young woman’s voice asked you, scaring you out of your thoughts as you watched Rami trek off towards the trailer. Jumping slightly, you put a hand over your heart as you turned to the woman with the headset on, who was giving you an apologetic smile. “Sorry to scare you. I’m Kelli. Big fan. D’you want some breakfast? Rami said you’d probably be starving, so he made sure to order your favorite kind of donuts. Straight glazed, right?”

“He knows me too well,” you laughed softly, dropping your hand to your side and sending him one last glance as he disappeared into the trailer. Lingering for a moment, the creeping thought of Rami preparing so much for you to be here for just one day made a blush appear on your cheeks. “Yeah, I’m starving. Lead the way, Kelli!”

“Sweeeeeet Caroolineeeee!”

“Fuck Phi Kap!” you cheered, grinning deliriously at the blasting music as you leaned against Rami, who was attempting to navigate his way out of the bar while being just as drunk as you. He was singing along loudly, desperately wanting to stay behind and party all night but knowing that catching a cab after last call would be next to impossible. So he dragged you outside, drunkenly singing along to the music that was now muffled by the brick exterior of the building. It was chilly for a spring evening, a breezy kind of cold that alleviated the intense heat that radiated off of both of you.

“Oh, good, there’s one!” Rami slurred excitedly, pulling you over to a cab that was waiting in idle for the inevitable crush of students once it hit 1:30. Opening the door, he let you climb in first before half-falling in after you, rambling off the address of your apartment to the driver.

“Oh, fuck, I love you so much,” you giggled, throwing your arms around his shoulders and leaning on him heavily as he tried to buckle up. “You’re my best friend foreverrrr!”

“How much have you drank?” Rami laughed as he got the damned buckle into the slot finally, moving his hand to rest on your arm while you fell to rest your head in his lap. Your eyelids were still heavy with liquor, practically closed despite your best efforts to fight the feeling of the cab's soothing movement forward.

“My entire life, or just tonight?” you giggled in response, and as you looked up to Rami with low-lidded, bleary eyes, he decided he’d never seen something so beautiful in his life.

“Just tonight, dork.” He grinned even wider, rubbing your arm as you made a face of deep thought, tapping a finger to your chin for extra effect and humming curiously. His heart skipped a beat when you took his hand from your arm, lacing your fingers into his and grinning impishly. God, he would never get tired of that smile.

“S’hard to tell…. I’ve been drinking.” With that, you squeezed his hand and grinned even wider when he burst into laughter. The car began to spin a bit in your vision, so you closed your eyes and giggled as you kept his hand tightly interwoven with yours, his grasp being the only thing grounding you to reality. “I want pizza. Can we order pizza and watch a movie, please please please please?”

“It’s your apartment!” he reminded you, watching your pleasantly serene smile quirk upwards at his voice. “It’s a plan. Might have to skip our 8 am, though, I think Thirsty Thursday has fucked both of us.”

Pizza it was. You ordered a simple pepperoni and downed so much water, you got waterlogged by the time the pizza got there. When Rami went to go get it, he came back to you zonked out on the couch. You were fast asleep, snoring softly, and curled up in his jacket that he’d lent to you when you said you were cold in the cab. Gently shaking your shoulder, he crouched down next to the couch and sat the pizza on the coffee table.

“Hmph?” The quiet noise of question came out of you when he shook you another time, and your eyes blinked open sleepily to see Rami peering at you, looking a bit guilty but still mildly drunk. “Ramiiiii,” you murmured happily, a crooked smile gracing your lips, and he sent back a wide smile in return. “Cuddle with me.”

“Pizza’s here, dweeb,” he teased gently, helping you sit up and getting you a paper towel before handing you a piece. “Careful, it’s hot,” he warned, sitting next to you cross-legged and blowing on his own piece.

“Oh, okay,” you mumbled sleepily, blowing on the pizza a little bit as you fell into his side quite lightly, leaning against him and only shifting a bit when he draped his arm over your shoulder. “You’re my favorite, Rams. You’re so sweet…. You’re so nice to me!”

“Aw, don’t get all soft on me now,” he joked playfully, giving your arm a soft squeeze.

“Soft! You’re so soft,” you rambled on, ignoring his attempt to quiet you, but he didn’t try again as you rose in volume. “And you’re so great and so talented, and I love being your best friend because you get me, you know?! You really get me, and you don’t act like I’m crazy for wanting to be an actress. You’re so…. so supportive! And you’re seriously the best. I can’t imagine life without you. You’re like…. The best puppy dog ever. So loyal. And you kind of look like those ones with the eyes, you know, the Boston Terriers!”

“A Boston Terrier?” Rami repeated, smiling a bit at your mini-vent session about him to him. “I’m not sure whether that was supposed to be an insult or a compliment.” Looking down at you, he found you smiling drunkenly and watching him with wondrous eyes. He decided it was a compliment.

“So, how long have you two known each other?” Gwilym asked, looking genuinely interested in what you had to say. You’d known him from a previous project that you’d both auditioned for, so it was a delight to see him in full Brian May ensemble, holding his script in one hand and a scorching hot tea in the other. Brits and their tea.

“I met him freshman year of college in some theater class, ’99. So… about 18 years? Give or take?” Gwilym’s eyes lit up with an appreciative look, and he smiled wider as he nodded, still listening. “I sat next to him because he was the only one that laughed at my jokes.”

“They were all awful, believe me,” Rami suddenly interjected, coming up from somewhere behind you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I laughed for your sake, darling.”

“Uh, I think you’re a big fat liar!” you laughed, bumping his hip gently with yours and eyeing the Freddie mustache/teeth combo. “I see you’re in Freddie mode now, because you’ve never called me darling before. Every nickname that starts with a d usually ends up being dweeb, or dork, or dumbass-“

“I do not call you a dumbass!” he gasped, recoiling and pulling his arm away from you in shock.

“You do so! But only when I deserve it.” He rolled his eyes, sending you a knowing look before turning his attention back to Gwilym, who was eyeing you both with a thoroughly invested expression.

“Uh-huh,” Gwilym drawled out slowly, licking his lower lip before grinning even more. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Y/N, but I’m afraid I’ve got to go grab something for breakfast before I starve to death all day. Cheers!” Carefully and quickly hugging you, he was then off in search of catering as you and Rami instead stood huddled together under the awning of one of the houses, close enough to feel each other’s body heat in the crisp morning air.

“You know Gwilym?” he asked, turning to face you and hugging himself loosely, the red and white fabric of his sweater looking puffy but a little itchy and acrylic. You nodded as you traced your eyes along the collar for a moment, then looked back up to him. A slow grin spread across your face at the sight of him, wig and makeup and all.

“We both auditioned for something,” you answered offhandedly, reaching up to fluff the wig a tiny bit. “Look at you! My god, you’re a spitting image!” After a pause, a softness took over your features, one that made Rami’s heart race as he watched you quietly, afraid that his heartbeat was audible even over the chaos of crew getting the set ready. “Freddie would be really proud, I think. I couldn’t think of anyone better to carry on his legacy.”

“Thank you,” Rami replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as you dropped your hand back to the coffee you were clutching in one hand, using it to warm yourself. You still watched him with the same soft look, so pure and unadulterated in its basis element, that he couldn’t mistake it for anything other than affection. And in that moment of vulnerability, despite the literal hundreds of people surrounding you, Rami released the floodgates after 18 long years. “Hey, um, I can’t believe I’m saying this to you right now of all times, with-“ he gestured to his get-up in general “-this on, but do you remember that night that we went to the bars, and you passed out on your couch while we were waiting for pizza, and I woke you up anyways because I knew that you’d want pizza right then instead of eating it in the morning?”

The question took you a bit aback, and you furrowed your eyebrows for a moment, thinking hard before nodding. “Yeah, what was that, freshman, sophomore year? And you told me to be careful about burning my mouth but I did it anyways because I’m an idiot?”

“And you got sauce all over your couch when you spit it out,” he laughed, looking off in the distance and grinning before taking a deep breath and looking back to you. “The Boston Terrier thing. Did I imagine that, or were we really that drunk?”

“We were definitely drunk, but I will say that you remind me of a Boston Terrier even when we’re sober, so you did not imagine it,” you answered, giggling a little but seeming unsure of where this was going.

“Thank god, because that makes what I’m about to say make a lot more sense.” Watching him carefully, you noticed one of his hands reach out and you took it automatically, his fingers interweaving with yours and just holding you as he spoke. “When you said you couldn’t imagine life without me that night, I thought a lot about whether I could see life without you. And I really couldn’t and that made me sad to think about it, kind of like a puppy would be sad if the owner left. So, in some sort of twisted, convoluted way, that made me realize that I was absolutely nuts about you. Crazy. Devoted. Like a dog loves its owner to death, I- I guess, it made me realize that I love you. A lot. Not in the just a friend way.”

“Rami,” you murmured nervously, a brilliant pink blush spreading across your cheeks as you glanced around at everyone passing by you, completely unaware that your best friend had just full-on told you he loved you, after years of you thinking that you were the one secretly pining over him. “Why- I just…”

“You don’t have to say it back,” he quickly added, looking a bit anxious as he searched your face for any sign of acknowledgement besides red-hot embarrassment. “I just wanted to finally get it off my chest. I thought being away from you for work would make it different, but I still do. I still love you. And I-“

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” you almost whined, pulling him in for a crushingly tight hug as he froze up for a second, not expecting that reaction. But then he relaxed as he realized you weren’t appalled, at least, so his arms snaked around you, one hand resting on your back while the other ran over the back of your head, his chin coming to rest on top of it. “I thought I was the one with a hopeless crush on you, damn it!”

“Wait, you thought that you were the one with the whole unrequited love thing?” he asked, pulling back a bit to look down at you incredulously. “You’re like, an eleven. How could you even-“

“You’re out here acting like you’re not a solid eleven as well,” you chastised gently, looking up at him with a fake-warning look. “I can’t believe that I was so freaking stupid for not telling you I loved you senior year, after graduation. I thought I’d never see you again, and that it wouldn’t matter!”

“Jesus, are you telling me that I could have told you in 2003 and we would have felt the same then too?” he groaned, looking slightly distressed as he put you at arms-length, looking you over. “I’m an idiot. Actually… we’re both big idiots, I guess.”

“I kind of like the part where you’re the only idiot, though,” you pouted teasingly, only able to hold the insulted look for a moment before you laughed, shaking your head incredulously. “Well… now what? Can I delete Tinder?”

“You use Tinder?” he asked slowly, raising an eyebrow in question and gaining a scoff from you.

“Well, I sort of have this problem where I have this friend who didn’t tell me they liked me until just now, so I was sort of casually dating in the hopes-“

“Okay, I get it, I get it!” he cut you off, laughing as he roped you into another hug, mainly to muffle your voice against his sweater. “You know, I’m not the only one who didn’t-“

“Let’s just forget about that and say we’re… a thing, now, yeah?” you suggested, your voice a bit muffled but still clear against his chest. He figured you could probably feel his heart racing, but he made a noise of agreement and kept you there anyways, just running his fingers through the side of your hair and cursing the fact that his fake teeth were hindering the whole kissing idea right now. Then, you tensed up, and his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, following your line of vision to find that Gwilym and the real Brian May were coming straight towards the both of you, muffins in hand and identical smiles on their face. “Oh my god, Rams, pinch me.”

“No, because you’re not dreaming, dumbass,” he teased gently, letting you out of the hug as he turned to face the two men who were just yards from you. “Also, that’s mean.”

“I totally told you that you call me dumbass,” you commented, although there was no real conviction in your voice as you turned to face one of your biggest idols, huddling up against Rami for support. My boyfriend, you thought, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. My boyfriend is about to introduce me to Brian May. Jesus, what a dream.

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[imaginesandideas]

Versace on the floor

this is my veeery overdue entry to @queens-n-roses 2k challenge! congrats dear 🖤 you truly deserve it!! 

before we’ll get to it, I wanted to apologise for my recent lack of new content. I’ve had a lot of trouble passing last semester and I think I’m still trying to figure out how to cope with the aftermaths of it all. hopefully it’ll change soon though.

ANYWAY - this one is inspired by Versace On The Floor by Bruno Mars (listening and/or checking out the lyrics is very recommended here). The dress that I had in mind as I was writing, is Atelier Versace, Fall 1995 (as pictured above). Could be read as both Roger and BoRhap Roger, it’s all up to you loves❣️though not gonna lie, that I had late 70′s Roger in mind 👀👀👀

word count: 3,154 (yeah.jpg)

WARNINGS: SMUT (fingering, edging, just the regular), and some swearing; do not read if you’re under 18 please!!!

~~~~~

Funny how the right dress can make one feel so bold, so unstoppable, so desired. And that’s the way you were feeling that night.

You were looking and feeling like absolute goddess.

How did Roger got it last minute for you remained a mystery, but you were in no way complaining.

How could you. It’s Versace after all.

“You ready?” you heard him yell from the hall as you examined yourself in the mirror.

The gown was utterly mesmerising.

 Essentially it was made from thousands strings of diamonds sewn on by hand one next to the other, thicker around the chest but more even as it went further down, leaving just a little to imagination. Tight around your torso, yet descending loosely at the length of your legs. Perfect in every detail. As if it was taken out of your dreams.

 As for the accessories, you opted for simple beige ankle strap stilettos - something that wouldn’t cause distraction from your breathtaking gown but would still look great. You were wearing your hair loose, in smooth waves to add a bit of old-age Hollywood chic. For makeup, you focused on giving special attention to your eyes with thick, cat winged eyeliner in addition to matte lipstick in a shade of deep mauve. And a dash of silvery highlighter on your cheekbones. 

Again - simple and sexy. Perfect for your well planned party outfit.

 Your gaze fell to the corner of your bed where your fur coat was laid out waiting to add final touch of glamour to the look. It was your most favourite one. Roger bought it somewhere during the tour as a gift for you, and you cherished it like your greatest treasure since. That is, until you’ve found the sparkly Versace dress hanging in the middle of your wardrobe 2 hours ago and immediately fell in love.

 You let yourself drown in the folds of your fur, before spraying some perfume on your neck.

Chilly feeling of the liquid running down your chest to the valley between your breasts sent a shiver down your spine. Tonight was about to be great and you could already feel it.

 Holding your favourite clutch bag close, you stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you. Turning on your heels, you head to the stairs before joining Roger in the hall where he was all dressed up and waiting. Upon hearing your steps he came to see you.

Of course he was impatient. When he first had seen the dress in the window display, he was convinced that he had to get it for his girl.

What he was seeing completely took his breath away.

 In the warm light from chandelier above, you looked like a piece of art, like a shining crystal. His adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably which you did not miss as you looked down from the top of the stairs.

 You’ve never been overly insecure, only given a good reason to, one being surrounded by women of elite level of beauty. But that wasn’t happening tonight, because now you were feeling utterly divine. The only thing missing was a crown, but who needed that ridiculous emblem when you’re living with Roger goddamn Taylor of Queen.

“Fuck, doll.” you heard him mutter under his breath, raspiness of his voice making it sound more like a bold statement. “You look like-“

“A dream?”

“Fuck if only.”

 You were almost sliding off the stairs at this point, making your moves as feline and slow as possible, only prolonging his suffering. By the time you stepped on the last step, his leather trousers became painfully tight and his mouth pretty much watered. What a sight it was to watch him so out words to say. The sparkly outfit fitted you so well it nearly looked as if it blended into your skin. You truly were a walking jewel, gleaming with your every motion. The things you did to him by simply looking like that made you feel even more fierce, vain even.

 You felt his arms sneak expertly underneath your soft fur before tugging you closer to him, closing the distance between the two of you just enough to feel his hot breath on your neck. Your hips met his own in a sharp crash of bodies but he didn’t stop there. He glanced down again, admiring you all the way from your toes, through your ankles and up your legs, stopping just for a second to let out a dreamy sigh upon seeing nude, lace panties you were wearing underneath the semi see-through material of your dress. With a sharp and a bit exaggerated intake of air, his eyes continued to wander further up, feeding your growing vanity.

 The images of what he wanted to do to you, matched his desperate touches. His fingers were cold in comparison to your fur heated body as he dug them into your skin, making you gasp.

“You really are a dream. Wet one if you’d ask me.” You chuckled at his exclamation, placing a hand on his neck, your nails scratching lightly and leaving pinkish marks on his already flushed skin.

“Roger Taylor, do I look like your wet dream?” you teased tilting your head. Your neck looked so inviting, as if it was made for leaving bite marks. Skin gleaming with peachy like glow both from the light of chandelier above you, and the way it worked with diamonds of your dress.

“Like wet dream coming true, love. Twirl around for me.” And you did as you were told, making your hair fly up a little, mussing it ever so slightly. Roger’s hands didn’t leave your sides the entire time, only lowered to the level of your hips to slide smoothly over your bum while you were turning on your heels.

“Maybe we should just call it a day and stay at home instead, huh?”

“Roger!”

“What?” You sighed trying to get out of his grasp, but his grip tightened bringing you even closer, signalling you how hard he’s gotten.

“All this dressing up for nothing?”

“Not for nothing darling.” He whispered in your ear, his breath sending pleasant sensation down your neck and shoulders, as he began to slowly expose your front. Hand moving to the small of your back, the other sliding the fur coat off your shoulder. Peppering every newly exposed inch of skin with hot, open mouthed kisses, he hasn’t given you a slightest chance to shiver with coolness coming from the half-open balcony doors.

His clever fingers made their way up your spine to the top of the zipper while continuing to work on your neck and cleavage, earning a series of involuntary moans. Just as he began to pull it down, your hand shot up to his neck, yanking by his hair in a state of sugary-sweet oblivion. Groan escaped his lips and he nipped more harshly at the skin on your collarbone, leaving reddish marks to cover up later. The zip came to an end right above the curve of your ass, and he had to fight the urge to let his hands wander further down. He had better plans in mind.

Slowly, in so Roger-like torturous manner, he slid the coat off completely, your hand bag hitting the floor with a loud thud before disappearing underneath the folds of fur. Though you really couldn’t care less. You were gradually loosing yourself in his firm yet lingering touches, his tempting words of pure affection, his seductive voice and gaze that could easily burn you alive if you’d only allow him to. Yes, you were a queen, but he could never give away the sheer exhilaration of having you so melted under mere touch of his fingertips.

Being in control was his forte, and the chances that he’d let such opportunity slide were close to none.

“Rog...” you almost begged through breathy series of sighs. “S-stop teasing.”

 He only chuckled to place few more wet kisses along your jaw before locking your eyes with his own. The smug on his face was more than evident. Eyes hooded, he admired his work which consisted of your rosy cheeks, a bit smudged lipstick, parted lips, pleading gaze and deliquescent form. You were no longer a walking diamond. Now, you were melting, and one could say that you were the one persuading the other to stay in.

“God, I love that dress.” His grip on your waist loosened, fingers tracing up and down your sides. “But you won’t need it anymore.”

 You bit your lip in anticipation, your own fingers coming to rest on his chest. You all but touched the bare skin underneath it, sneaking your fingers between the buttons, but he grabbed your wrist. Inching closer to let his words affect you even more, he spoke again.

“Take it off princess. Take it off for me.”

You took a sharp breath, your gaze suddenly dropping to the ground as he leaned away ever so slightly to give you more space. The expression on your face didn’t go unnoticed to Roger. The shameless rouge of your cheeks turned into bright red blush against the fading shade of your face.

„Hey, hey! Eyes on me.” Roger brought his index finger underneath your jaw in an attempt to regain your attention. All of sudden your previous confidence was gone and replaced by slight feeling of insecurity, so unexpected in such circumstances. “You’re beautiful in it, not because of it, okay? I’ve seen all of you already, and everything’s perfect. Versace or no Versace.” he exclaimed rubbing your cheek with his thumb. His stare was unavoidable and slowly, the concern filled look on your face softened as you noticed his genuine smile. “That’s my girl.”

Finally relaxing with lips pursed together, you put your hands behind your own back. As you slid off one strap, Roger figured out a better backdrop for what was about to come and led you by the hand to the end of a sofa.

“Wait here.”

“Roger where are you going?”

“Wait!” he repeated dismissing you with a raise of his hand before backing to the other room. You overheard him swear a couple times as sounds of desperate rummaging in the cupboards grew louder, until you could make out a content “finally” and he was back with a few candles. Within a matter of seconds he lit up the candles, switched the light off and jumped back onto the piece of furniture in front of your amazed form, waiting eagerly for you to continue.

 “Don’t mind me.” he all but whispered as he propped on his elbows and leaned head on the back of the couch, legs spreading wide apart and grin plastered all over his features, accentuating wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. You rolled your eyes but smiled nevertheless. Biting your lip suggestively, you let your hands return to the business. While your fingers skimmed over your shoulders torturously, his eyes didn’t leave your figure. He didn’t stop watching even when he struggled to get out pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket. Smoke filled your vision as eyed you from underneath his thick eyelashes. He was getting visibly charged, stare full of lust and longing. And it only motivated you to keep the game going.

 As the first strap was down, the other instantly following, you found yourself unhurriedly scooting the material off, careful not to ruin the dress. Your hips leisurely swaying as if to help your actions, but both of you knew that wasn’t the reason. You wanted him on the edge.

And he was, his hips shifting impatiently in the seat, drags of cigarette smoke more abrupt with every passing minute. So when you leaned forward, your nipples hardened from crisp of the night air, and licked your top lip, hands continuously sliding the dress further down your hips, he could barely contain himself before he’d throw the fag on the floor and pull you onto his lap. Fumbling with his belt buckle, he swallowed hard almost choking on remains of his cigarette. Now it was you watching him trying get out off his unfortunate choice of pants to stroke his already painfully hard cock. You let out a moan yourself at the sight of him groaning with eyes shut closed, fingers sliding up and down his length with ease thanks to fair amount of precum.

„Stop staring and c’mere.” you didn’t even realize how long you’ve been standing in your underwear only, since gown seemingly had slid off completely some time ago. Roger was peering at you from his semi-laying position opposite you, movements of his hand getting more sluggish. You could only obey as he put the cigarette on coffee table, and held out a hand for you to take it. Straddling him you let your hands rest atop of his chest before starting to unbutton the silky-like shirt. Meanwhile he continued trying to get himself ready, groans leaving his lips every now and then. You only unbuttoned the last button and he was already shrugging both the shirt and jacket off his shoulders to rapidly grab you by your hips, closing the space between your bodies with a heated kiss. You gasped into his mouth feeling his cock pressing to your clothed centre, thin fabric of your knickers now far too impermeable for your liking.

 Roger sensed your needs and moved stripe to the side to slide two fingers inside your aching core. It was nearly too much after being teased for so long, and your back arched in pleasure. You’ve felt your inner muscles tense when he added some pressure to your swollen clit with his thumb. Your mouth fell open to let out a breathless moan. Roger watched you in complete awe as you unraveled on his lap, while all he did was use his digits. He was absolutely fired up then, stroking his aching cock as you continued fucking yourself on his fingers. But that’s not how that would go, no. In a brisk, you felt empty again as he switched hands on his shaft to jerk himself off more. Coating his member with your hot juices, he let out a throaty moan.

„Tosser.” his closed eyes shot up at your exclamation. You had your arms crossed over your chest and pouted. “That’s not really fair, y’know.”

His toothy grin widened in the dark before he bit his bottom lip. He was truly enjoying himself.

„Ride me.”

„What was that?”

„Ride me like you mean it.” you examined his face for signs of hoaxing but found none. He was dead serious, his eyes flickering with lust in the dim light of candles. You licked your lips again, teeth grazing over your bottom lip and stood up to discard the damp piece of underwear you should’ve lost long ago. Stepping forward, you left your stilettos on the floor next to your panties and knelt, placing your hands on either side of his head on the back of the sofa. Nails scraped at the suede material in a shade of dark chocolate and Roger shivered before swallowing, his eyes wide like marbles, only darker, like sapphires.

Slowly, Roger impatiently guiding his member, you sunk down onto him, pleasant feeling of fullness sweeping over you. The skin on your neck streched so much one could count all the veins, as you threw your head back in ecstasy.

Roger tensed under your weight and let out a guttural moan. His hands shot up to your hips, forcing you to move.

“J-just like that. Doing so well.”

You set up a steady pace but with every passing second your moves were becoming more greedy, more eager. You closed your eyes, focusing on the bare pleasure. Roger’s grip on your sides loosened to eventually disappear, though you were too engrossed in your own actions to care. Hearing a familiar noise you looked down to find Roger lighting up another cigarette, like it was nothing. Upon seeing your frown he muttered a quick “Please continue.” before he took a deep drag. As if to motivate you, his thumb found its way back to your clit. A cloud of smoke was blown in your direction as your thighs shook with a shock of pleasure coming from between your legs. Now you really were riding him, your knuckles whitened from grasping at the sofa and breaths short while you jumped up and down his shaft, almost slipping off a few times in the process.

 Your movements were hectic, insatiable even. Roger’s thumb was continuously rubbing circles around your throbbing point, puffs of smoke making the whole image appear even more elated, in otherworldly kind of way. He was motivated to make you come, and it didn’t take you long until your walls were clenching, wettness dripping down onto his lap. He was close, the cigarette suddenly bothering him enough to throw it somewhere on the floorboards. You felt him shudder.

But you could no longer hold back a deep moan that left your mouth, stopping you mid movement. Pure bliss covered your vision and your hands moved down to Roger’s chest, leaving reddened trails in the process.

 Your eyelashes were like a curtain, falling quickly after the show, hiding your onyx-like, dark, dilated pupils. All you could hear was Roger’s breathless praises and the blood thumping loudly in your ears. He sat up and you could feel his hips snap up with such force to meet his approaching orgasm. Holding you close, his hands travelling down your bare back, small beads of sweat running down his hairline and forehead. He started kissing and nibbling down your chest fiercely. And then he came, biting on your nipple, greedy hands tangled in your hair, mouth opening as he spurted his hot cum on your senstive walls. His body trembled as he emptied himself completely, his seed mixed with your own cum pouring onto his trousers. Your muscles finally begun to relax, but you stayed in his arms nevertheless, both too tired and content to do so.

He kissed your shoulder tenderly, only now noticing the purple mess he’s made of your skin. Not that he was ashamed of course. He always enjoyed seeing you trying - and failing, to cover his lovemarks.

“Mine.” He breathed, fingers tracing lazy circles on your back as your head rested in the crook of his neck. You extended your arm to place your hand on his cheek lovingly. Roger’s blues returned to yours with a soft smirk and he placed a kiss to the inside of your palm, following by a series of pecks on each of your fingertips.

“Still regret staying in?” He teased earning a huff from you.

“So t’was all? I thought you’ve had more in you.”

His chest vibrated with a laugh.

“All snotty now, aye? Don’t worry, we just getting started love.”

~~~~~

oooof, hope it’s not as bad as I thought 

Comments, ideas and words of notice are always appreciated 💜 lmk if you’d like to be on/off the general Roger taglist 🙌🏻

taglist: @rogersdrumkit @rogersfalsettos @erinhardytaylor @cyborgfromthesupermarket @sabbrriiinnaa @wolverinesbeer @simplyvictoria-93 @laubluered @ceruleanrainblues @shae-is-not-ok @i-am-sarah @imamazzellhoe @shishterfackisback @rogerstambourinee @rockyroadthepastryarchy @tanya-is-dead @twistingrealityagain

[wooyuwu]

Sweet

A/N: Ahh this is my first au! I’m sorry if this doesn’t flow very well >< I'm not the most skilled writer, but I have so many ideas for different stories that I wanna put out, and this is one I’ve had in my mind for a while! I actually began this back in December but forgot about it and never finished it until now sksksj. I hope you enjoy!! Expect more and better from me~♡

Pairing: San x fem reader

Genre: fluff, college au

Words: roughly 2.3k

The end of the semester was rough. Students were crazy busy finishing their heavy workload and final exams were just stressing everyone out, including you. But school is finally out now, and the holiday season has just begun. Your friends who were planning on visiting their families have already left campus, but the rest were still here. As were all of San’s friends, who have their families in town. In actuality, many students remained on campus due to that same reason, and to say that there were at least two parties thrown every week now was not an exaggeration.

It’s just a few days before the new year, and tonight Wooyoung is throwing a mega “after Christmas, pre-new year party extravaganza”, which was open to all. You weren’t huge on this kind of party, as the abundance of people in a small space usually made you feel anxious, but your friends begged you to go. "I agree, the party sounds hella lame; I mean, who names their party that?! But please go, _____!! I bet you it’s gonna be lit!“ is what your roommate, Leah, had told you, along with a wink. The name did make it sound like a high school dance thing, but Wooyoung for sure throws some of the best parties on campus, so you decided you might as well go.

You and Leah are currently squished in your other good friend, Mina’s, dorm restroom with 2 other girls, Irene and Yoojung, who along with you, are getting ready for tonight’s party. You opted to wear a short, black denim skirt that is covered with small rhinestones on the front with a tight black tank, along with your favorite black ankle-high boots and a choker to match. Leah is behind you, curling the ends of your hair as you are applying the final touches to your makeup.

"Should I go for red lip-tint or hot pink lipstick?”, you ask aloud to no one in particular.

“Hot pink, it’ll give you more of a pop” answers one of the girls, and hums of agreement follow. Hot pink it is.

“Hey, wait, what time does the party start?” Yoojung asks.

“Um like 11? 11:30? I’m not really sure” answers Leah.

“I can text San and ask” you say.

“Okay, thanks, ____”, Yoojung smiles, and you mutter out an ‘of course’ as you squeeze your way out of the restroom and head over towards the bedstand, where you left your phone to charge. You unlock it and press the messages icon to text your boyfriend.

You: Hey baby, at what time does Woo’s party start again?

Sanie ♡: 11:30. You’re coming, right?

You: Ok thank you~ and yup!!

Sanie ♡: See you soon then, my love 😘

You smile at the cheesy emoji and lock your phone, setting it back down.

“It starts at 11:30!” you yell out.

“And what time is it now??” Irene asks.

You check your phone and eyes go wide, “ it’s 11:18!” you reply.

“SHIT THEN WE GOTTA GO” Leah blurts, rushing out of the restroom to slip on her heels, followed by Irene and Yoojung.

“Is San going to pick you up?” suddenly asks Mina.

“Ah, no. I’m meeting him over there,”

“Okay, cool, let’s go then!” she replies, and you all rush out of the small dorm.

Entering the door of the house, you feel the floor rumble from the blasting music and people dancing. You look around and face Leah,

“Hey! Imma try to find the drinks,” you yell over the music.

“I’ll come with you!” she replies, and you nod, turning back around and start making your way towards the kitchen.

Accidentally bumping into various unfamiliar faces, you finally arrive at your destination, and your eyes go wide at the selection.

“What the fuckkk they went all out!” Leah laughs, eyeing all the different types of alcohol that cover the entirety of the kitchen.

“I don’t know what to get...,” you say before someone gets ahold of your shoulders and lightly shakes you.

“_____!! You made it~” you hear a male exclaim behind you. You immediately turn around are met with Yunho’s smiling face.

“Yunho!! Yeah!” you smile back, excited to see your friend.

“Having trouble choosing?”

“Actually, I am..” you giggle, “any recommendations?”

“Try my punch!! I made it with Mingi!” Yunho replies as he grabs your wrist and drags you towards the huge punch bowl in the corner of the kitchen. You watch him as he pours you a cup, and smile when he hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “tell me what you think.” and sends you a wink. You take a sip and your eyes squeeze shut at the sudden taste of overly-sweet alcohol.

“It’s…strong..” you laugh, “but I like it."

Yunho smiles wide and gives you a high five, laughing, clearly proud of his concoction.

"What’d you put in it?” you ask, and Yunho sends you a mischievous smile. “Secret,” he says, and you nod.

“Hey, Yunho, where are the other guys?” you ask, referring to your boyfriend and his 6 other friends, whom you’ve all grown particularly close to.

He looks around and waves his hand towards the main room full with people dancing, “somewhere in there, probably.”

“I figured,” you laugh, “Sanie too?”

“I think so. He was looking for you, actually.”

You smile hearing that, and Yunho continues,

“Follow me! Let's go see if he’s in there." and he takes hold of your wrist again, pulling you behind him as he squeezes between people crowding the kitchen.

"Leah!” you scream out to your friend, who was pouring herself a drink, “we’re gonna go look for San!”

She smiles and sends you a thumbs up before bringing her attention back to her drink, and with Yunho, you exit the kitchen.

The main room is crazy filled with people, and you begin to feel a bit anxious just being there for a few seconds. People are dancing to the beat of the music blasting through the speakers, and just about everyone you bump into is sweaty and slightly drunk. You take another sip of the mysterious punch and continue following behind your friend.

Yunho stops in his tracks and faces you, “Hey! I found him!” he yells to you.

“Where is he?”

Yunho turns his head and points in the direction of the back of the room, to the large, glass-paned windows.

“Outside! With Wooyoung and Seonghwa-hyung.”

You try your hardest to peer over the people surrounding you, and as your eyes find the windows you immediately see your boyfriend standing outside, just like Yunho said. He is wearing black ripped jeans with a red button up shirt that you love on him oh, so very much. You let Yunho know you spotted him, and he continues to lead the way outside, once again pushing through the dancing bodies.

You finally reach the door that separates the backyard from inside, and Yunho opens it, allowing you to walk through first, and then closes it behind you. When you left the dorm 45 minutes ago, you felt fine, but being inside the stuffy house for as little as 20 minutes was enough for the outside air to now feel chilly, giving you goosebumps.

San, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa are all standing near the pool, holding red solo cups and talking to each other. ‘It seems like they are enjoying themselves tonight’ you guess by their smiles and Wooyoung’s bright laughter filling the cold air.

“Yoyo!! Guess who’s heereee~” Yunho yells out to the three boys as you two approach them.

They all turn their gaze towards you two and you smile brightly,

“Hey guys~”

“_____!! You made it!”, Wooyoung exclaims, and you laugh in response. San, instead, smiles instantly once he sees you, and in the meantime of you greeting Wooyoung and Seonghwa, he admires you with bright eyes.

“We thought you wouldn’t come” teases Seonghwa, only half-serious.

You let out a small laugh and reply by saying “Wouldn’t miss it for anything else,” and then turn to your favorite boy, San.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, gingerly pressing a kiss to your hair. He looks down at you and gives you a sweet smile.

“Hey, baby.”

You blush at his pet name for you and smile back up at him.

“Hi, Sanie.”

“You look so pretty..” San says as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. Suddenly, behind you, Yunho makes a gagging sound and Wooyoung bursts out laughing, doubling over.

“Get a room, you two!” Yunho teases.

“Don’t be a cockblock, dude”, replies Wooyoung, hitting Yunho on the arm. You start laughing, too, watching the scene in front of you.

“Yeah, go get your girl and listen to Wooyoung.” you counter back, and San let’s go of your waist. He instead reaches down and laces his fingers with yours,

“Alright,” he says to his friend, “let’s go find one, _____,” and he pulls you along with him.

“Wait, no I was jokin—” starts Yunho, before he’s cut off by Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s snickering.

You and San reach the door, and he grabs ahold of the doorknob to turn it. “Byeee~” he replies, and then closes the door behind you two, leaving his three friends outside.

The loud music surrounds you and San, and he looks around before pulling you towards one of the many hallways of the house. This one he leads you in is overall empty, only occupied by couples locked inside the rooms that lined it. You two walk deeper into it, secluding yourselves from the party. You lean your back against the wall and San stands in front of you.

“Did you dance yet?” he asks you, resting his hands on your waist.

“Nope,” you reply, “Yunho found me as soon as I got here and led me to you.”

He lets out a short hum, processing your words.

“Do you wanna?”

“Not really.. Do you?”, and ask back, and his lips curl up slightly.

“No, I’d rather be here with you like this,” he replies, causing a slight blush to dust your cheeks. You bring your drink up to your lips in an attempt to hide the shy smile forming on your face.

“What’s that?” San asks you while nodding his head towards your cup, watching you take a sip.

“Dunno,” you reply, “Yunho and Mingi made it.”

He scrunches his nose at your response and frowns, “Ew, don’t drink that.”

“Why?” you ask back, amused at your boyfriend’s reaction.

“Because who knows what the hell they put in there. A little bit of everything, probably.”

“It tastes like it.”

He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head, throwing you a few tsk tsk tsks,

“That’s red flag number two. Don’t you know this?” he teases, taking ahold of your cup and putting it down on the floor.

“What do you mean?” you laugh, curious to what he’s referring to.

“Do you not remember the last time you drank some weird shit they made? You were gone after one cup! I took care of you all night.” he says, and you knit your eyebrows together in confusion, earning an incredulous look from him. For Halloween this year Hongjoong threw a party, and of course, Yunho and Mingi offered to take charge of the drinks. Along with the array of liqour they collected for the party, they made a huge batch of their infamous punch, and you, innocent, little you, courageously tried it, unaware of it’s strength.

One cup was enough to get you shitfaced, and San looked after you all night. He was worried sick, afraid of you getting hurt and just wanting to sober you up, knowing you’d feel the aftereffects of the alcohol the morning to come. The fact that you don’t remember any of this happening just further proves his point that Yunho and Mingi’s concoctions shouldn’t be consumed, especially by you, his baby.

“Now I can’t kiss you,” he says, feigning a pout.

“Because you’ll taste the punch on my lips?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, lightly brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

“That’s unfair,” you murmur, pouting back at him.

San stares at you with soft eyes, his face just inches from yours. You slide your now free hands up to his chest, looking back at him, feeling your heartbeat pick up its pace. He brings his right hand up to delicately cup your cheek and his eyes flicker down to your lips. Pretty, he thinks, appreciating how the pink shade you opted to wear compliments your skin tone.

“Maybe I’ll let it slide just this once”, he smirks and leans in, gingerly pressing his lips against yours.

His lips feel so warm, causing you to smile into the kiss, having missed the feeling of his soft lips against your own. As San molds your lips perfectly, you move your hand up to his nape and pull him closer to you. San in response wraps his left arm around your waist, right hand still cupping your cheek softly. He moves his lips against yours so slowly, kissing you so delicately and full of affection, causing butterflies to swarm your stomach. When he pulls back to draw in a few breaths, he rests his forehead against yours, and stares at you with twinkling eyes and a small smile,

“I could kiss you forever,” he whispers, lips still hovering yours. “I want to...” he trails off, and you pull him back in for another sweet kiss.

[viktcria-blog]

stellaluna • viktoria “vik” • aaland s u l l i v a n

icy breezes float across naked flesh as melodies coated in melancholia float across stale air. useless factoids trail across their mind, she traces patterns against florals sitting in tepid water. she strokes the neck of an empty champagne bottle, shatters it against marble. they say it’s all too much, the thought beckons bumps to rise against her skin.

d e m o g r a p h i c s

full name: stellaluna viktoria “vik” aaland

age: twenty-one 

sexuality: bisexual 

gender: demiwoman / she & they

major & minor: psychology ( major ) & anthropology ( minor )

♪ icy — kim petras

family • history • connections • plots  under the cut & exhaustive

f a m i l y

                father ( adoptive / deceased )                                   mother ( adoptive )                    peter aaland ( sol invictus )                             camille aaland ( née bordelais )

                                                    grandmother ( adoptive )                                      vikoria “angelique” bordelais ( née eriksson )

( cancer / death tw for everything below this warning )

• their father was a musician who went by the alias “sol invictus” ( after the roman sun god ), his band, invincible, was extremely successful in the late eighties / early nineties and has some classics ( the most helpful comparison i have for sol is kurt cobain mixed with alex turner and flung back to the 90s. )

he was diagnosed with cancer when vik was a child, and became involved with a faith healer and his cult ( the sun’s chosen children ) before his death. after his death, there was a vicious battle over his estate, as he left everything to the cult and its manipulative leader. this is a dark chapter of vik’s life, and she didn’t entirely understand what was going on due to her young age, just that her father was dead and it ruined her mother. sol’s involvement with the chosen children was the subject of much tabloid gossip, and so was the legal battle.

• her mother was a model and the daughter of a swedish-french film star ( the original viktoria ) who married an “english screenwriter with a french name.” camille is very fond of horses and horse racing and has spent large parts of her life on stud farms ( including her own parents’ stud in england, where her mother retired to ), and currently lives on one in mexico, somewhat close to mexico city.

• viktoria is adopted, she was born in sweden  ( which both of her adoptive parents had a connection to ) and placed for adoption by her birth parents shortly after. they don’t particularly care to know anything about their birth parents, and haven’t made any effort to seek them out. they were adopted when they were two years old, so they retain some vague memories of the orphanage, but they can’t speak swedish anymore.

h i s t o r y

places lived

stockholm ( childhood )

tokyo ( childhood )

los angeles / new york city ( childhood )

oxfordshire ( childhood / as a teenager )

mexico city / valley of mexico ( as a teenager )

paris ( to attend the paris opera’s ballet academy, as a teenager )

important / helpful information

being a rockstar’s child had its difficulties and successes. vik was always the coolest child in any given room ( at least, by default ) but she spent most of her childhood in impermanent places: tokyo ( two years while sol & invincible were recording a reunion album ), los angeles and nyc ( whenever her father’s profession demanded it ), oxfordshire with her mother and grandmother, stockholm for a few years post-adoption. they never made many real friends, and cultivated a reputation for being just like silk ( pretty and difficult to hold onto ) over time. they’re used to being alone.

dancing, particularly classical ballet, was their first love. they took their first class in tokyo when they were still very young, and they were good. when she was dancing, vik wasn’t someone else’s child, she was her own person, with her own passions. after their father’s death, their mother became despondent ( especially as the legal battle was lost ) and they needed to get away, so they used some of their talent and a lot of nepotism to audition for the paris opera’s ballet academy ( one of the best in the world. ) not that they’ll admit to the nepotism. from age 12-17 vik lived alone in paris, attending the academy and going by her mother’s maiden name ( bordelais ) in order to deny any connection to their father. 

vik stopped dancing when she was 18, after she moved back in with her mother after her grandmother’s death ( without her, her mother would have been completely alone, so it was necessary, and repayment for the five years of freedom she had been afforded. ) but dancing remains their first, and currently only, love, and she still does it. just not under the eyes of any teacher.

their gender expression is hyper feminine ( lots of glitter and neon ) but this doesn’t mean they’re a woman. vik identifies as demigender ( specifically a demiwoman / demigirl ) and came to the realisation that she was not fully comfortable with her identity was a girl for the first time after her father’s death. they don’t particularly care to explain it more than “you can be feminine without being female.” anyone who comes into proximity of her is aware of her pronouns and identification. 

they didn’t want to go to providence. when they were applying, they were disgusted by the enormous wealth and privilege that surrounded them ( nevermind how often she uses hers ) and found it repulsive. but providence was the best school and the easiest to bribe, and in the end, the college was very, very far from mexico city.

in their first semester, they mostly kept to themself, keeping their head down so no one would ask questions about who they were or where they came from. but in her second semester, vik started performing again: she had a third story window, a highly fuckable toned body, and she missed ballet. egged on enough times by partygoers struggling through snow or melt, they would take to their window, a silhouette of a person, smooth bare skin and mystery. performing became parties. parties became more parties. being a partygoer became being sol invictus’ child.

they’re in a constant state of reinvention. are they a good student, or just rich and the child of someone famous ? does she like the endless bacchanalia and orgiastic weekdays, or is it all she knows at this school ? what the fuck is vik going to do with themself after graduating with the degree they don’t care about ? don’t ask.

tldr no one understands what she’s doing, let alone her. & they have a reputation as the person to go to for a party.

c o n n e c t i o n s  ( q u i c k f i r e )

champagne prince(ss): someone vik parties with, possibly a procurer of illicit substances, they have a soft spot ( possibly romantic ) for them

twisted sibling: horribly toxic relationship that consists mostly of egging each other on and fucking each other up 

cheat sheet: vik doesn’t like to study, so they’re her go-to “study partner.” aka, the person she bribes to help her ( aka.... write her papers for her )

invincible ? don’t know them: someone who’s a fan of vik’s father’s band / knows all the gossip and is intrigued by why it was like to grow up as sol’s child

no danes allowed: international kids club ? ( aside: idk what citizenship vik even has lol ? i just realised this ! )

p l o t s 

cause of you, now my heart is so icy ( former lover / enemy / angst / pining / fuck it )

vik’s first real relationship, started at providence, probably in second year ? very intense, ended really, really badly ( think public shouting matches. ) occasionally, always, in moments of weakness, they miss this person immensely, and considering going back / taking them back. she doesn’t even remember why it ended in the first place, at this point. ( but some part of vik also knows it will end in the same fiery crash if they try again. )

this could also be platonic because losing friends ? painful.

gave me something to believe in  ( member of or close to / fascinated by the sun’s chosen children cult )

for the most part, the cult that their mother is certain played a role in killing their father hasn’t played a role in vik’s life in years ( beside camille aaland’s refusal to say its name of the name of its leader. ) but new york is a big place, and the internet is strange and vast, so this plot involves someone who is a member of, or close to someone who is a member of, or is interested in the sun’s chosen children ( a “self help group” dedicated to spiritual healing and the abandonment of modern medicine, in actuality a cult. ) vik still carries a lot of resentment for what they did to her mother and some small part of them fears the chosen children. so living / partying / studying in close proximity to someone who is involved with them is probably not going to end well.

don’t search me in here, i’m already gone baby ( “perfect match” / counterpart / mystery )

someone vik is highly interested in ( platonically / romantically / sexually / whatever, 22 year olds are dumb ). they feel like every time they try to get close to this person, they slip away, which is something vik has a lot of practice doing herself. she doesn’t like it being turned back on her, and she’s starting to run out of patience for them.

... but not yet. 

i ain’t ever gonna settle ( patron / private shows / throwing parties so one person will come / ideal / disaster in the making )

dancing is such a big part of vik’s life, and stopping their dance career may be one of the few things they actually regret. this person is vik’s “dance partner” and “patron”, someone who always encourages her to dance for / with them ( sometimes in private, wink, but as always this could be platonic ) and whose approval she craves for no reason she could name. they’re stumbling towards being dependent on this person, and it’s not going to end well, but for right now, it’s passionate and full of feelings and admiration and divine adoration. 

[marvelsior]

five times kissed

MY FAVORITE MEME || always accepting! || @sensesdialed​

The first time was Peter’s 18th birthday, to the minute. Gwen had been on patrol, his gift in her backpack, until her watch alerted her that it was time to start swinging to the Parker apartment. Within the hour, Gwen was knocking on the boy’s window once her watch alerted her that it was officially Peter’s birthday. She was greeted with that grin she would always remember–one that this Peter and her Peter would forever share. Peter Parker had made it past 17 in this universe, and it made her happy and sad all at once. Her Peter would never make it to 18, he’s been gone for years. 

Gwen sees the welcome packet for Peter’s college on his desk, the Spiderwoman removing her mask and smiling as Peter opened the window and let her in. “Excited for school?” she asked, gesturing to the desk’s contents as he grinned. “Of course! Y’know, you didn’t have to come here Gwen, it’s late! Aren’t you tired?!” Peter asked, brown eyes shining with concern as she waved him off and pulled her backpack off her shoulders to retrieve his gift. “I was out already on patrol, but I would rather die than miss my best friend’s birthday! I need to be the first to give you a present, it’s my duty as a best friend. Besides Ned, of course.”

Peter’s face lit up at her words, the Spiderwoman pulling out the wrapped package and handing it over to him with a smile. “Happy Birthday Petey,” she murmured, dark eyes watching him gently pull off the paper, only for his eyes to widen and immediately look to her. A camera. One she knew would be great for all sorts of shots–and vlogging as well. “How–?”

“You mentioned it once. In both universes,” Gwen answered, avoiding his gaze only for a minute or two as she zipped up her bag and placed it back on her back. Her heart ached only slightly, the more time she had spent with Peter over this last year of being in this universe made it hurt less and less. Honestly, it would always hurt at least a little, but she’d never been happier with the way her friends and family were all still here-in some form, at least. She takes a few strides to his side, turning the box over in his hands and pointing out specifications, showing him how this was both for photography and can also be for video, and that her mom bought some extra batteries for it, they’re in the box. She blinked and there were arms around her, Peter’s face in her shoulder thanking her as she wrapped her own arms around his waist and kept him close. “You’re welcome Pete…” 

Soon she’s on her way back to patrol, jumping over the railing as sticky feet keep her attached to the side of the building facing him as she placed her mask over the top half of her face, her grin still showing as she leaned up so she was eye-level with him. “Coney Island tomorrow?” she asked, and Peter agreed, those brown eyes shining bright in the city lights around them. Gwen Stacy had always loved Peter Parker. With every fiber of her being, she did. Unfortunately, in her universe it decided that wasn’t meant to be….and she didn’t realize just how much she loved him until he was gone. Here? Here she had a second chance to be the best friend her Peter deserved; to protect him. Now here he was, eighteen years old, going off to college in two months. He made it. Both Spider warriors hadn’t realized just how long they’d been quietly staring at each other until Gwen’s watch went off again, startling her enough to almost lose her grip on the railing–prompting Peter to flail to try and catch her–but she righted herself in time for the two of them to be inches away. She’s not sure what came over her, but moments later she leaned up and gently pressed her lips to his. She lingered for a moment or two, pulling away and very happy that her mask covered most of her face as she pulled it down and sputtered out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-couldn’t–I’ll see you tomorrow!” and swung away. Shit. Gwen you’re an idiot what the fuck.

What she didn’t expect, was the blur of red and blue following after her moments later.

The second time was a time after Peter’s birthday, after Coney Island, after the night of Peter’s birthday where Spiderman followed Spiderwoman until he caught up–many more kisses happened between then and this time. It was Peter’s sophomore year of college, and he’d told Gwen on multiple occasions how the dorms were miserable. Flash was always there. How Flash and Peter ended up at the same school was beyond them, but it was ridiculous how the bully never took a hint; or grew up. Fucking Flash. Gwen had appeared at Peter’s dorm the night before; the three of them (Gwen, Peter and Ned) had a movie night with a blanket fort and fell asleep on the floor. The next morning she found herself in Peter’s bed with a note explaining he went to class, he’d be back in a few hours. Ned was gone for most the morning and he came back around 10am. 15 Minutes later she heard the familiar sound of Flash antagonizing someone–her Spidey sense alerted her that it was Peter moments before she heard a body hit the door. 

Gwen signaled for Ned to stay where he was, slowly creeping to the door and opening it a crack to see Peter struggle to his feet, wiping away some blood on his lip before he faced Flash again. Gwen was fortunate to not have had to deal with Flash directly, Peter had known how she didn’t want the high school to know she was here. She wasn’t their Gwen, she was too old for high school so it wasn’t like she could ‘come back’. Peter had protected her by keeping her existence a secret from their peers, just as apparently he was protecting her now. Flash was saying something about Peter being weak, about how it was his fault Gwen was dead because she went up there to meet him. Both Gwen and Peter froze on their respective sides of the door, by now Peter sensed Gwen watching and moved so he was between Flash and where she was. From there, Flash explained what he’d done–he was the one who sent the Gwen in this universe to that place. He wrote it and signed it from Peter, so Gwen would get ‘stood up’ by the boy she actually liked, just so Flash could make his move on her…but she died instead.

Gwen could feel the sorrow bubbling up in Peter’s chest, brown eyes watching his fingers twitch-wanting so badly to turn into a fist but Peter’s too good for that. Too pure. The last 5 years, Peter had beaten himself up about Gwen’s death. From 14 to 19 years old he believed it was all his fault–just as Gwen had felt these last 7 years with her Peter. Eventually, the Spiderwoman had enough and threw open the door, prompting Flash to turn white as a sheet and back away as if she was a fire coming straight for him. “G-Gwen?!” She felt Peter’s gaze on her, sensed him reaching out for her, and she placed her hand in his awaiting one before she pulled him against her, free hand gently wiping away some blood from his lip. She felt Peter instantly deflate in her grasp, just as she always did when she was angry and he was there, Now Gwen was angry. Peter had put up with SO much abuse at the hands of Flash; now this madness had to end. “For the record, Flash Thompson?” Gwen’s voice was smooth as silk, but her gaze and the edge of her tone was icy as the frozen tundra as she turned to face the cowering teen before her. “I would rather die than be with you. Fuck. Off.” Flash took the hint and fled the scene, Gwen turning her attention back to her injured boyfriend as Peter’s forehead leaned against hers. 

“He’s gonna tell everyone, you know…” he pointed out, prompting a shrug from Gwen. “Let ‘im. I don’t care anymore,” she answered, cupping his face in her hands and pressing a slow kiss to his lips, which was eagerly reciprocated by her spider-love. Two seconds later, there’s Ned; wrapping both of them in a tight embrace, exclaiming “THAT WAS SO BADASS, GO GWEN!”

The third time was after Gwen had been accepted into the Masters program, the two of them moving into a dorm/apartment on campus together for Pete’s second half of Sophomore year and Gwen’s first semester in her Masters program. Both of them on either side of Gwen’s bed, feet touching as they both kept taking notes and highlighting things they would need later. It had been hours, and Gwen’s eyes were starting to hurt. Maybe she should take a break. Peter gets up and stretches, Gwen’s gaze moving from her book to her boyfriend as he did so–she never got tired of being around him. She figured he was on his way to the bathroom, or the kitchen to get a snack, but moments later she was greeted with Peter inches from her face and placing a hand over her book.

“Hi,” she chuckled as she turned to face him, a sleepy smile across Peter’s features as he cups her cheeks and pulls her in for a kiss, prompting the elder spider warrior to run her fingers through brown curls. Free hand closes her book before she shifts so he’s standing between her legs and she’s sitting on the side of the bed, their kiss only breaking when they need air. “Time for a break,” Peter breathed, smiling when Gwen leaned in for another quick kiss. “Alright, alright. You know it’s bad when you are the one telling me we need to take a breather.” 

The fourth time was at both their graduations. Each major had a separate ceremony based off which ‘college’ your major was sorted into. First was Peter’s, then Gwen’s, then The Parkers and The Stacys threw the two a graduation party–one that Tony insisted he pay for and hold at Avengers Compound. Either way, it was just madness, and after they cut the cake the two spider warriors fled the large room where everyone was gathered with their desserts and hid in one of the nearby living rooms. Their senses were going a little haywire with the amount of noise and people in the room, they just needed a few minutes to themselves. 

Gwen was about halfway through her cake when she leaned into Peter’s shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to his neck. “I’m proud of you Petey,” she whispered, looking up at him as Peter grinned. “I’m proud of you two Gwendy.” Honestly, years ago she hated ‘Gwendy’, but it grew on her–but only if Peter was the one to call her that. 

The next kiss that followed was soft, sweet, just like Peter himself. Honestly Gwen wasn’t sure what she did to deserve him. She’d been so hardened by the world when she came to this universe, and now? Now she had more to live for. She had both her parents (father from this universe, mother that birthed and raised her), Uncle Ben and Aunt May (the former from her universe, the latter from this one), Mary Jane (her universe) and now Peter. Among so many others she’d grown to know and love over the years. Soon the two of them are stretched out on the couch in the kiss, Peter hovering above her as her hand keeps him anchored by the back of the neck. The kiss was still so soft, and she loved every second of it. She loved him more than anything, more than life itself. These last few years opened her eyes to a love she never knew she could feel, and it had almost completely eradicated the pain she felt when she first came here. Breaking away for air, Gwen stroked dark curls away from his face gently as Peter playfully flopped on top of her, arms wrapping around her waist as she chokes out a laugh; a little winded from pure muscle landing on her. 

“Thank you, Petey…” she murmurs a few minutes later, fingers playing with dark curls as he looks up at her. “For what?” he asked, those beautiful eyes locking onto hers as she smiled. “For loving me.”

Spiderman smiled once more, moving so he’s hovering above her once more, pressing his lips to hers in a deep, loving kiss before he speaks again. “Always, Gwendy. Always and forever.”

The fifth time was after a mission had gone wrong. Stark and the other male members of the Avengers had disappeared for days, only to reappear for Carol and a few others to bring them home. Gwen had been stationed at the Compound; the female Avengers going out to look for them in shifts. One day in the city, one day back at the compound. Not even the X-Men could find them with Cerebro. 

Today Gwen was pacing the living room, Natasha anxiously toying with her multiple weapons spread out across the coffee table before both spiders heard the Quinjet land in the hangar. It was early. Gwen bolted for the hangar, Natasha on her heels, and she arrived in time to see a disheveled mop of brown curls appear at the top of the ramp, blue and red suit filled with holes and covered in dirt, a hand gripping his opposite upper arm in pain, but otherwise alive. “Petey…” she breathed, eyes watering as he looked up and saw her.

Both spider warriors stumbled towards each other-Peter’s clumsiness from his horrific experience and Gwen’s from the shock of seeing him again-just for lips to crash together. Gwen’s fingers instantly tangled in soft hair, strong arms looping beneath her legs after she launched herself into him, legs wrapping around his waist to keep herself upright. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he breathed against her lips, Gwen pressing several heated kisses there before breaking away and peppering multiple all over his face before she wrapped arms tight around his neck, resting her chin atop his head. 

“I thought I lost you again…” She whispered, feeling Peter press a soft kiss to her neck before burying his face there. 

“Gonna take a lot more than that to kill me Gwendy. Promise.” 

“I’m holding you to that…” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[letmeletmetrashyourlove]

Precious

Summary: Billy’s girlfriend has a similar home life. He’s used to running to her, but tonight she needs help. 

Author’s Note: Cute shit.

REQUESTS OPEN

My father traveled for work, so he was rarely home. But when he was home… I wished he wasn’t. He did nothing more than upset my mother. Nag about the things that weren’t done when he was here. About how much money she spent at the grocery store. About how she had to pay to get a damaged tail light fixed after she was rear-ended.

It was a rare night that he got to come over long enough to have dinner before leaving again for a red-eye flight.

I sat across from him, pushing my potatoes around my plate. I could sense his gaze on me, and I did not want to look up.

         “So. How’s school going?”

The tone of his voice told me he already knew how school was going. It was shit. I would be lying if I said my boyfriend didn’t have an effect on my grades. His ‘I don’t give a shit’ philosophy had rubbed off on me. I didn’t notice just how much it had until I got my most recent report card. C’s in nearly every class. It was not up to my standard and was certainly way below my father’s.

        “I- uh… It was a hard semester.” I lied, not making eye contact.

        “Mom said you’ve been seeing a boy.”

I shot a glare at my mother. I had debated whether or not to tell her, and I had no intentions of my father finding out anytime soon.

        “Who is he?”

        “His name is Billy.”

        “And?” He pressed.

        “He’s sweet.”

        “I want to meet him.”

        “Well, if you were in town more than one night a week, you could.” I snapped, not meaning to have as much hostility in my voice.

        “Hey. I am out there making money for this family.” He growled.

        “What family!?” I jeered, “You and mom never talk to each other! You don’t even sleep in the same bed when you’re home! I haven’t held a conversation with you in months! You come home and you do nothing but scream at us!”

        “Y/N.” My mother cautioned.

He rose from the table, throwing his napkin down onto his seat.

        “How are we supposed to know you’re actually being faithful!? Huh? How do we know you don’t have some other woman that you fuck the rest of the time!?”  

He stormed over to me, dragging me up out of my chair and smacking me across the face. My mother let out a gasp, catching me as I staggered away. I clutched my cheek in dismay, the sting of tears in my eyes.

        “Get out.” My dad screamed.

        “Honey-” Mom reasoned.

        “Pack your shit, and get out.” My father repeated.

        “Smack me around all you want, but if you ever lay a hand on her, I’m calling the fucking cops.” I hissed, pointing at my mom.

I snatched my jacket off the back of my chair and dug my keys out of my pocket.

        “No car, you’re grounded!” My dad yelled.

        “Just kicked me out, can’t ground me. And it’s my goddamn car, I paid for it with my own money.” I growled, charging out the front door and to the Volkswagen beetle outside. He shouted after me, hunting me down the driveway.

I beat him to my car, climbing inside and locking the door behind me. I sped off down the road towards Billy’s house.

I couldn’t find it in myself to cry. My the initial tears I shed were from shock, but now I was just pissed. I parked just down the street from Billy’s house in hopes of buying myself time in case my psychotic father decided to chase after me.

I hurried up the sidewalk, going around the back of the house. The lights in Billy’s bedroom were on, the scent of cigarette smoke wafted from the open window.

I let out a whistle, a signal that we adopted to get each other’s attention. He peered out at me, his brows furrowed.

At least the abuser in my house was gone most of the time. Which made my house the designated safe haven from Neil. I had never shown up at Billy’s house like this. He waved me up, aiding me in through his window. I slipped off my boots before climbing in as to not arouse his parents.  

        “Hey.” I murmured.

        “Miss me?” He teased, capturing me by the belt loops and pulling my hips against his. He cupped my cheeks and leaned in for a kiss. He halted before our lips met, he caught a glance at my cheek.

        “What the hell?” He rumbled, his voice weighed down with anger, “What happened?”

He passed his thumb along my bruised cheekbone,

        “Dad.” I exhaled, “I mean, I was being a little shit…”

        “Is he still home?”

        “Billy-” I sighed, knowing his objectives.

        “Is he still home!?” He repeated, more urgently than the last time.

        “Yes… But he’s leaving soon.”

        “I swear to god I’m gonna-” He started, picking his keys up off his dresser.

I caught his arm,

        “You’re gonna what? Break into my house and beat the shit out of my dad? Go to prison for a few months?” I challenged, “How do you think your dad is gonna handle that?”

He let out a grunt, releasing his keys.

        “What happened?” He sought, pressing a feathery kiss to my bruised cheekbone.

        “He started talking about how he ‘provides for the family’” I mocked his tone, “And one thing led to another and I accused him of having an affair and-” I concluded, pointing to my cheek.

        “And he kicked me out,” I added.

        “Where are you gonna stay?”

        “Pft. Home. He’s leaving in a few hours, what is he gonna do about it?” I scoffed.

        “You okay?”

        “Pissed,” I retorted.

Billy took me by the shoulders, sitting me down on the bed. He accompanied me, sprawling back, crossing his feet, and pulling me over to lay against his chest. He took a puff from his cigarette before passing it over to me.

I took a drag, closing my eyes and letting the smoke billow out of my lips.

        “We’re moving back to California after we graduate.” He declared, tangling his hand in my hair and massaging my head.

        “We?”

        “Yeah. We.” He reiterated, “You’re gonna sell your cute little car-”

        “Hey, I love Precious!” I defended, nudging him in the ribs.

Precious was the name I had given my bug. After Billy relentlessly made fun of me and called her ‘precious’. Sure, she didn’t go nearly as fast as Angel (The name I had given his Camaro, though he heavily protested whenever I called her that), but I loved her all the same.

        “And we’re gonna take the Camaro and road trip out there.”  

        “With what money?” I questioned.

        “I still have family there. Bum with them for a while, get jobs.” He continued, “Buy a house on the beach.”

        “I hate the beach.” I rebutted. “Sand… Everywhere… everywhere.”

        “Fine. We’ll live in a big cabin in the mountains then.” He submitted.

        “What kind of jobs are you thinking we’re gonna get out there? How the hell are we gonna afford that?” I giggled.

        “Hmm… I’m gonna own a car shop. Mechanics make good money you know.”

        “And what am I gonna do?”

        “You’re gonna stay at home all day. Take care of our dogs.”

        “Dogs?”

        “Mhmm. A couple of big old mutts.”

        “Can we have a cat, too?”

        “As many cats as you want.”

I considered his fantasy for a little while as I took another puff from the cigarette. We could do it… Get the hell out of here when we turned 18. It wasn’t far off, in fact, both of us would be 18 before the end of our senior year. We could both get jobs, pitch in to rent an apartment until we graduated then run away together. Maybe not to California. Maybe not to a big cabin in the mountains. But far, far, far away from here.  

[gabriellapatterson-blog]

Emma: Fic 1

A/N: Just to warn y’all Emma is a reoccuring character so she will probably have multiple fics. She’s my babe

I always believed I was destined for a true true romance. One that spins and twirls and leaves you out of breath with each grasp and gaze. One day I was going to find a love like this. The selection was a perfect chance for this. I was always the princess locked up in the tower all along. I was going to get in, I would fall in love with the prince, and then everything would be okay again. Nothing would be sad, nothing would hurt, nothing would be hard. I wouldn’t have to be a puppet anymore. I would be the sad princess saved by her knight in shining armor. Turns out fate doesn’t like me.

“Selected from Angeles- Gabriella Patterson”

Gabby, It’s Gabby. Of course it’s Gabby. She fits the trope for an epic first love.  

“I’m so happy for you! You’re going to have so much fun!”

So then what love is for me?

I sit counting the seconds of each passing minute. Each minute since Gabby left. She had always been my filter. Keeping me from being scared, from facing the uncertainty. What am I supposed to do? Who am I meant to be? I sighed and got up from my bed to turn down the heat as the cicadas sung on the trees outside of my window.

Sweat rolling off of my body as my feet tried to stick to the wooden floors of my flat. I glanced over at the pile of unopened mail before opening the door to the fridge. Letting the cold air cool me down for just a moment.

I sat for a moment. Listening to the silence before standing up. I should do something. No point in wasting a day. I’d go to the supermarket. Pick up some new magazines. Maybe something with Gabby in it. I could try to call her maybe too. OH! It would be nice to pick up some stuff for the pattersons. Maybe some ice cream or something to deal with this heat. Though they always keep their house boiling anyways.

I stepped outside locking the door to my house behind me and getting in my car. I stopped for a moment and looked at Gabby’s bike resting against the garage to my house.

“You should get more exercise. It really helps clear your head!”

She’s probably right. She always comes up with the best solutions. I wish she were here to tell me what to do. College is going to start soon. I still don’t know what to study. I sighed and got out of my car and went up to the bike. “Don’t be wrong, Patterson.” I said before climbing on it and began to bike.

It was nice. Refreshing. Though it didn’t really answer my questions. I guess I had too high of expectations if I wanted a bike to tell me what to do. Gabby must be going insane there. All of those other selected seem to have their whole lives figured out. We’re only 18. We’re supposed to be confused. Not already running our own business. Though I bet she's ecstatic to meet Candy….candy…..candy whatshername? I can’t remember her last-

Bam!

“Oh my gosh are you okay?”

Somehow the sky is now in my direct field of vision. I guess I must have fallen.

“Is someone a doctor here?” I heard a lady yell. Crap. I forgot to reply. I quickly sat up.

“It’s okay I’m not….concussed?”

“I’m a doctor!” A young lookin- a cute young looking boy said as he rushed over.

“Oh goodness I feel so hurt!” I added batting my eyes a little. Gabby would have my head for this.

“Let’s get you out of the heat.” He said squatting down to me as someone picked up Gabby’s bike. The cuties big blue eyes looking at mine. He had messy brown hair too, it’d be fun to play with probably. He put a hand gently on my back and offered one of his to help me stand. Then he went to Gabby’s bike and grabbed it by the handle to roll it with us.

“Do you bike much?” He asked.

“Not enough, apparently.” I joked.

“Oh! You’re bleeding! There’s a burger place by here, right? I bet they have a first aid kit. We need to get you cleaned up.” He said to which I just nodded. It was only a little scrape on my leg. It would probably be fine if I just left it alone.  

Soon we had ended up at Bob’s burgers. There wasn’t really anyone but us and Bob there so we took a booth. First though the mysterious mystery doctor man pulled over a chair for himself and one for my leg so he could clean it up and bandage it. I hope Gabby doesn’t trust strangers like this at the palace. It’s been okay at home since the town is like a gang. An outsider hurts an insider and that outsider is as good as dead.

“You look a little young to be a doctor?” I started to ask while he cleaned.

“You look a little young to be a…...biker?” He said trying to be witty but not having a better come back.

He sighed, “I’m technically not a doctor yet. But I’m learning! I’m in college about to go into my second year! I’m interning for doctor Mary-Nell Patterson this summer.”

“You’re interning for Gabbys mom!?” I asked and shot up. He jumped a bit at my sudden volume.

“Ugh..I guess? Who’s Gabby?”

“Gabriella! She’s my best friend. Also a selected. She’s the cute brunette who’s gonna win.”

He seemed to chuckle at that then he paused. His face went pale.

“Holy crap I know you.”

“You know me?” I asked as I sat back in my booth.

“No let’s just say no.”

“No no no! How do you know me?”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, “I was friends with Gabriella. I lived here for like a year when my dad was moving around. I was that doof who asked you out the day your cat died.” He added with another sigh.

I couldn’t help but to break out in laughter. Mom was off on a business trip, I was alone. I had come home from school back in 5th grade. The quiet of the house always scared me so I tried to play outside as late as possible. When I got home my cat mittens was so.. Well I don’t like to think about how I had found her. I ran outside crying until I ran into Jeremy. He took me to his dad. His dad went to my house and took mittens to a vet who agreed to keep her body until mom got back and we could have a funeral. His dad let me stay the night. I didn’t know Jerry that well at the time so I was scared. How wrong I was to be. We watched Disney movies and he showed me his harry potter collection. We played board games and he kissed me goodnight on the cheek before bed. I wonder why he seems ashamed about that.

“Why didn’t you want me to remember that?” I asked.

“I didn’t want you to associate me with a dead cat. I was hoping for a bit of a better start?” He replied chuckling a little bit.

“So let me be sure, Jeremy Murphy?”

“Emma Florence?” I nodded back at him my wavy blonde hair falling a bit.

“Yes! I still have some memory!” He cheered.  

“Shocker, most people don’t.” I replied with a smile. 

“So do you still want to be a math mathematician?” 

“God no.” I scoffed just before a waiter came over and took our orders. 

“Why not? You seemed to really like it in 5th grade. You were like best in our class?” He asked. 

“Well Jer, you missed a lot between 6th and 12th grade. I got busy. I became a cheerleader.” 

“Okay then. You aren’t busy now right? So let’s do some math.” 

“I’m injured I can’t think about math right now. I’m incredibly wounded.” I said before falling down on the booth dramatically. 

“Maybe an actor is a better fit.” He replied and rolled his eyes. 

We ate and talked about careers, life goals, dolphins, whales, sealions, and finally we ended up back on math.

“If you still really enjoyed your math classes before you graduated there’s a lot you can do with that. Especially already being a three.”

“I dunno. I hardly paid attention in my last semester. I almost flunked it. I’ll probably be denied from having a math major.” 

“Hmm then come to the Patterson’s house on Saturday. That’s where I’m staying over the summer. I’m actually pretty good at math. We can review it then you’ll be all ready for your college classes.” 

I nodded and soon we wrapped up and headed back. He walked me to my door where he gave me a quick hug and left Gabby’s bike before he made is way down the familiar path to Gabby’s home. I rushed inside and went for a paper and pen. I had to tell Gabby.

Dear Gabby,