#i swear im gonna crack this thing open with my bare hands im sick of this happening but its my own fault. but i forget!!!!!!!!

[lcpmon]

does someone wanna fix my nintendo switch's fan for me i forgot to turn on the external fan and it crashed from overheating again 😔

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 3: I like girls that dance

summary: It’s your first night out and your first real introduction to Westheath. Rafe is quick to find his way on your radar.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 4.6k

a/n: the way I’m imagining Jack Harlow as I write Liam 😩✋also, im pulling these chapter titles out of my ass - but actually tho, go listen to Girls That Dance by Masego 

Part 1 Part 2

Despite your doubts, you put on the sheer top and the black mini skirt Millie and Olivia had insisted you wear. Your favorite pregame playlist plays as you do your makeup in the mirror. You move as quickly as you can, in desperate need of a shot to calm your nerves before your flat fills with people. You’re also nervous about seeing Rafe after that encounter in the kitchen you just had. 

As you run your fingers through your hair and put on your earrings, all you can see is his stupid (and annoyingly attractive) face, staring down at you with that dumb backwards cap, telling you that you guys should watch Game of Thrones together. Every time your mind starts to think if that means something, you quickly shut down the thought. Of course it doesn’t mean anything. Just because a boy wants to watch a show with you does not automatically mean he wants you or that this was going to turn into some kind of Netflix and chill situation. Or was this gonna be a Netflix and chill situation? I mean it was Rafe Cameron after all, the boy certainly had a reputation. But then again, hadn’t he just showed you that he’s different from what you had expected? Oh god this was all too much to think about right now, you needed a shot. Stat. 

“Y/N!” Olivia shouts, swinging the door to your room open right on cue. “Oh. My. God. You look so hot!” she exclaims. “Here, this is for you,” she extends a shot glass toward you with a devilish grin. 

“Oh god what is it,” you grimace. Shots always seemed like a better idea in theory than in practice. 

“Try it and find out,” she smirks. You sigh and send the liquid to the back of your throat, immediately cringing at the sting of raspberry vodka, Olivia bringing a cup of cranberry juice to your mouth to chase. 

“Don’t worry love, a few more and you won’t even taste it. Now come on,” she laughs, dragging you with her to the kitchen. The rest of your flatmates are already there, Millie bopping along to the music, giggling at whatever Topper is saying, Rafe standing close by sipping his drink. 

“Y/n you hottie!” Millie cheers, looking up as you make your way into the kitchen. You pray to god your cheeks aren’t turning pink. You don’t dare turn your head, but you know Rafe is staring at you. If you looked at him now you’d be crimson for sure. 

“Alright everybodyyy,” Olivia begins, pouring the same raspberry vodka into the five shot glasses she has lined up on the table. You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy, this girl is nothing if not the life of the party. 

“Cheers to our first night out as flat mates! Wooo!!!” she exclaims, as everyone grabs a shot glass from the table, Rafe instinctively passing you one, hands briefly touching during the exchange and again as you all clink your glasses. You down the contents, unsure if the heat forming in your chest is from the vodka or the feeling of Rafe’s passing touch. 

Pretty soon people start to arrive, Olivia and Millie making sure to introduce everyone. The flat becomes a blur of bodies drinking, dancing, and mingling about, and somehow, despite it all, Rafe Cameron is the person you find yourself standing with. There was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite understand, but it kept drawing you near. 

“What are you drinking tonight Cameron,” you nod at the cup in his hand.

“Jack and coke. Of course,” he scoffs with subtle sarcasm, which you instantly pick up on. 

“Not straight whiskey? Wow. That’s not very Figure 8 of you,” you admonish playfully.

“Straight whiskey? L/n who do you think I am?” he twists his face in mock disbelief. “But I’m game to do a shot if you are,” he adds.

“Hmm that does-“ you begin, but you’re quickly cutoff. 

“Y/n, babe, if I had known you’d be here I would’ve came sooner,” Liam greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a cheeky smile. 

“Now how on earth do you two know each other,” Millie asks, walking in line with the boy.

“Umm,” you chuckle nervously. You could not have possibly felt more awkward at the conversation unfolding in front of you, Rafe standing by as witness to it all. “He’s that boy I went to the bar with the other night,” you explain sheepishly.

“That was Liam!? Chrissake. Well I apologize on his behalf for anything he said or did.”

“Hey I’ll have you know I’m a proper gentleman!” he defends, throwing you a wink as Millie rolls her eyes. Just at that moment, another group of people walk in through the door, conveniently coming to Rafe’s rescue.

“Rafe!” a girl calls and he clears his throat excusing himself, Millie following suit to greet the latest batch of guests. You watch as he leans in for a hug with the girl who’s just called his name. She’s twirling her hair and batting her eyes, confident, flirty, gorgeous - just his type. A sick feeling pools in your stomach, you don’t even realize you’re staring. 

“Lily Colts, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Liam informs you as he takes the now empty spot next to you.

“Oh, um no, I was just uh-“

“It’s okay Y/n, I get it. So flatmate huh” he laughs, unbothered.

“No no it’s not like that at all I uh-”

“Alright. Y/n,” he says, jumping up to sit on the counter behind him, cracking open the can in his hand. “You know I think you’re hot and you know I like messing with you-”

“Actually I know neither of those things,” you reply indignantly. 

“Yes you do, you’re not dim,” he bulldozes right on, “I can read people pretty well, and there was a vibe there.”

“A vibe?”

“Yeah. Between you and what’s-his-face. You should’ve seen the way he tensed up when I came up to you,” he snickers in amusement.

“Shut up. His name is Rafe, by the way, and there was no ‘vibe.’ Also why are you even telling me this?” you ask, growing frustrated with the cocky brunette.

“Y/n please,” he scoffs. “I told you I can read people, so let me read you. You’re out here in London right, far away from home, keen for a fresh start. You’ve never been one for meaningless flings, but fuck it, if everyone else can do it, why not you? Or so you try to convince yourself, but you know that’s not you. See, you crave that emotional connection, and when you find even a hint of it, you’re a goner. Which is why you’d never actually hook up with me and it’s why you’re staring at that boy from home even though you swear you don’t care, but you do - you feel something there.”

You’re dumbfounded by his ability to know things about you that even you yourself can’t recognize. “I liked it better when you were just flirting with me,” you grumble.  

“No worries darling, I’ll definitely still do that. I’ll even dance on you in the club if you ask nicely, might make pretty boy over there jealous,” he motions with his eyes toward Rafe, at which you give his shoulder a shove.

“You’re an idiot you know, Millie was right on the money with that,” you quip, as the two of you head over to her, Liv, and the boys.

“Please, Millie wishes she could be right on something else,” he says as you shoot him a glare, trying your best to suppress a laugh. Liam was starting to become a pain in your ass, too smart for his own good, but at least he was a funny one.

—

Your first night clubbing was going great. The place was packed, the music was good, and you were having a blast dancing with Liv, Millie, and their friends. You couldn’t help looking around the club though, eyes scanning for Rafe in the crowd. He’d been hanging out all night with Topper and some of the guys from their new soccer team. You longed to be near him somehow, to interact with him again. All your conversations with him earlier today had left you with an excited buzz - you didn’t know what it was about this version of Rafe Cameron in London, but you were actually enjoying his company.

You try to push him out of your mind and just enjoy the moment. It’s not like there was anything between you and Rafe, you had just barely began to form a semblance of a potential friendship today, let’s not get carried away. Besides, you live with the boy, accidentally running into him wasn’t going to be much of a challenge. 

“Anyone want anything from the bar?” you shout over the music to your friends.

“Vodka soda with lime please!” Olivia shouts back and you nod, turning to make your way to the counter a few feet away. You place your order and mindlessly tap your fingers on the bar as a figure appears beside you.

“Hey, Y/n right? Flatmates with Olivia, Mills, and the boys?” the girl asks, and you turn, now face to face with Lily. 

“Uh yeah, hey,” you feign a smile back. 

“I’m Lily, nice to meet you,” she smiles genuinely. “I’m friends with all the Westheath bozos you’ve probably been meeting tonight,” she laughs, “Callum and Henry over there are my best mates. They’re on the football team with Rafe and Topper, we were showing them around earlier. My god you guys have been hoarding some cute ones over there in America.”

You chuckle, “glad that Kildare’s presence can at least be of some benefit.” 

“So, girl to girl here, what can you tell me about Rafe Cameron? He’s such a hottie isn’t he? Would love to get a taste of that,” she smirks, licking her lips.

“Umm I don’t really have much to tell,” you say, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. You could tell her what you thought you knew of Outer Banks Rafe - he’s a rich, party-boy player. But after today, that no longer felt right. You didn’t want to say or presume anything about him at all actually, it felt wrong to talk about him like that. God, what the hell was wrong with you? You spend a few hours with the boy and you already have a soft spot for him? You needed to get a grip. “Our families know each other but we don’t really hang out at home. He’s uh- he’s cool though,” you decide as a sufficient response.

“Any girl friend?” she asks, sliding cash over to the bartender as she orders a shot.

“Rafe’s not really the ‘girlfriend-type’,” you answer, bartender sliding you the drinks you ordered and Lily her’s. 

“Well then cheers to that,” she grins, clinking her shot glass to your drink before she downs it, waving a quick goodbye. You watch as she makes her way back to Rafe and their group, adorning a flirty smile. You feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to hate her, you did. But you couldn’t. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just confident, outgoing, and not afraid to go after what she wanted. There was nothing for you to be angry about, who was stopping you from doing the same?

 But in the back of your mind you decided you could never go after Rafe like that. He would never be interested in you in that way, you were sure of it. You had a hard time believing your friends when they hyped you up, so you definitely weren’t going to believe for a single second that a boy you thought was cool could possibly look at you in the same way. Besides, the mere idea of being rejected by Rafe Cameron, and then having to continue living with him and eventually go back to the Outer Banks for everyone to find out you had been rejected by the kook prince, was so mortifying that the very thought made you want to crawl into a hole. So you promise yourself, right then and there, that you won’t let yourself get hurt like that. You could hang out with Rafe, get to know him, become friends even, but under no circumstances could you be caught wearing your heart on your sleeve. You couldn’t disarm yourself like that and give him the upper hand. You needed to look out for yourself first and foremost, preserving the little bit of control you still had over your life. 

You walk back over to your friends, slipping Liv her drink as her and Jake dance together. Your new friends are all tipsy and in a world of their own, getting lost in the music and their movements.

“Dance with me,” you turn to Liam who’s right beside you.

“I said if you ask nicely,” he admonishes sarcastically, to which you roll your eyes.

“I’m not gonna beg Liam. You wanna dance or not?”

“Sheesh, Lily Colts got your panties in a twist like that?”

“Not. At. All.” You confidently stare into his eyes, sipping your drink. It’s no use, Liam knows you all too well by now, and you curse yourself for the way in which this boy is able to see right through all the walls you put up. You may think these walls are made of brick, but to Liam they’re glass.

He just laughs at you, shaking his head in amusement. He grabs your free hand and pulls you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. He takes your hand and rests it on the back of his neck, his finding their way to your hips. He plants his leg in between yours and soon you guys are lost in the rhythm. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second. He spins you around and you lightly grind your ass against him.

“Damn Y/n, I didn’t know you move like that,” he jokes, as you face forward again. He leans in, his hand on the small of your back, and you feel his breath right against your ear, “he’s looking by the way.” Your breath hitches, but you know better than to turn around. Liam is already one step ahead of you, instinctively twirling you again so you can quickly catch a glimpse of Rafe’s eyes on yours without it being obvious. “Told you he’d be jealous,” he smirks down at you triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you reply, the slightest smile tugging at your lips as your sweaty bodies continue to move to the music.

—-

“Aw flatmate bonding you guysss,” Olivia gushes, as you all sit together at a booth. She had forced you all out of your beds this morning to get breakfast together. Despite being hungover and groggy, you all reluctantly agreed. “Mimosas anyone?” she jokes.

“If I so much as smell any alcohol I think I’ll vomit,” Topper groans.

“Aw, what’s the matter, can’t handle your liquor Tops?” Millie asks, quirking her head to the side.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Could ask you the same question. My room is right next to the bathroom, don’t think I didn’t hear your retching last night,” he snaps back, to which Millie turns bright red and soon you’re all hunched over in laughter.

“I think a mimosa would make me yak right now too, to be fair. Coffees all around!” Olivia asserts.

You’re seated across from Rafe as you both scan your menus, your eyes immediately fixing in on the pancakes. The waiter comes by to take all your orders and you can’t help but blush a little when Rafe orders pancakes and you have to follow with a “same for me.” Such a silly, meaningless thing, I mean everyone likes pancakes. But being the only one to have the same exact order as Rafe leaves you feeling embarrassed, for no good reason all the same. You all begin to scarf down your food as soon as it arrives, thankful to have something to soak up the alcohol in your stomachs, as you share stories and laugh about last night’s drunken antics. 

“So how is it that we’re all flatmates and yet I only have Topper’s contact. Come on, add ‘em in,” Rafe says, sliding his unlocked phone to the middle of the table.

“Wait I want snapchats too. Oooh! And instagram!” Olivia pipes, whipping out her phone as well.

“I expect no booty calls Cameron. This is strictly business,” Millie jokes, typing in her and Olivia’s numbers before passing his phone to you. 

“Am I allowed a booty call?” Topper smirks, extending his phone as well.

“I wouldn’t push your luck Thornton,” she smirks back and he pouts in response. You finish typing your name and number into Rafe’s phone and hand it back to him, skin briefly making contact once again. Even though you had known Rafe all your life, somehow you two never had a reason to exchange numbers, only following each other on Instagram which he never posted on anyways.

“Alright everyone, pull up your snapchat codes, I wanna make a group,” Olivia says and everyone obliges, arms crossing every which way as you all add each other. “What should we name our group chat? Ooo can we do a ship name of our schools - like Kilheath or Westare?” 

“I like Kilheath,” Topper chimes in.

“Yeah I bet you do you psychopath. Sounds like the name of a bad horror movie,” Rafe laughs.

“Oooo there’s five of us, we could be the Spice Girls,” Millie beams.

“No.” Topper immediately shuts her down. 

“What about ‘American Boys and Spice Girls.’ You know, like the Kanye West song,” you add.

“Ehh, we’re getting closer, but not quite there,” Rafe teases you and you playfully kick him under the table. “I’m hearing a lot of opinions and not a lot of contributions,” you cross your arms and raise your brows.

“Hey hey hey, I’m a critic, not a chef L/n,” he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Ooo I got it! We can call it the ‘Royal fam,’ like the royal family,” Olivia suggests, finally getting approval from the whole group. Breakfast is soon over and you all return to your rooms, eager to nap away the remainder of your hangovers. You lay in your bed and stare at the newly formed snapchat group on your phone. Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 appears on top and you scroll down, looking at Rafe’s username and bitmoji on your screen. You laugh at the fact that even his bitmoji wears a backwards cap. It was weird, having him in your phone like this. You had known this boy your whole life, but you two had always operated in separate spheres. And here he was, in your Snapchat, a glimpse into the life of Rafe, of which you only ever got a birds eye view of back home. It almost felt like you were trespassing somewhere you didn’t belong, having access to him like this. You sigh and lock your phone. Rafe Cameron really isn’t all that bad.

—

The next few days fly by fast as you become acclimated to Westheath. You and the rest of the Kildare kids attend an orientation with Westheath’s exchange advisor, spending the whole time with your little trio: you, Rafe, and Topper. When you had first arrived abroad, you were deadset on forging your own path in London and steering clear of everyone else from OBX. But hanging out with Rafe and Topper made you all but forget. It was fun and easy hanging out with them, in fact, counterintuitively, they were helping you forget all about the Outer Banks, just as you had hoped to do. Your conversations centered around your interests, your new lives, on random jokes and made up bits. It was almost as if there was a mutual unspoken agreement between you, them also trying to escape and forget their lives in OBX.

Pretty soon classes began, and you were learning a new schedule and adapting to British schooling. Your evenings were spent singing and dancing in the kitchen as you, Liv, and Millie simultaneously cooked your dinners, getting pints at the pub around the corner with your Westheath friends, and playing card games at the kitchen table with Rafe and Topper, the smack talk between you three flowing strong. There’d be short moments where you’d find yourself alone with Rafe - he’d explain to you whatever Premier League team was playing that day, you’d show him how the coffee machine works, and the occasional passing comments of “so when are we finally starting Game of Thrones, Cameron?” “I’m ready whenever you are, L/n.”

—

It was a Wednesday night, and you were curled up in your fluffy gray blanket watching Gilmore Girls in bed. You found the show comforting and familiar, the small town of Stars Hallow reminding you of what you wished your life in the Outer Banks could be like. Instead it was more like the cold and pretentious atmosphere of Chilton and the older Gilmores’ Hartford life. Your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lazily to check, suddenly freezing at the notification on your screen.

Snapchat: Rafe Cameron

You had opened a few snapchats from the boy over the past few days, but they were always random ones he would send to the group chat. This one was just for you. You gulp and put your phone down, not wanting to open it too fast. A few minutes go by and you realize you haven’t paid an ounce of attention to the show on your screen, even though you’re staring right at it. Fuck it. You open your phone and tap on the unread snap.

When are we watching Game of Thrones L/n the snapchat says, a picture of his laptop on his bed and the HBO Max home page open, the series featured in the corner of the screen.

You snap back a picture of your blanket and the laptop playing Gilmore Girls in front of you: ready whenever you are Cameron.

Almost immediately you get a response back.

Rafe Cameron: wait are you home rn? His message is accompanied by a random picture of his room, a view you let your eyes linger on until the message expires. Another peak into Rafe Cameron’s world.

Y/n: Yep! You send a blurry selfie of you wrapped in your blanket.

Rafe Cameron: be over in 5

You leave that last message on open and your heart starts to race. Just breathe Y/n, breathe, you keep telling yourself. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t make it out to be. It’s just a show. Just a show. And besides, you guys are friends now, right? You sit up in your bed and grab your pillow, shifting over to sit horizontally on your mattress. That seems more casual to you, more ‘just a couple friends watching a show together at a comfortable distance’ and less ‘sitting right on top of each other Netflix and chill’. You gulp down some water to ease your dry throat when you hear a gentle knock.

“Come in!” you call out, and now Rafe Cameron is in your room, eyes absorbing all the details that are so you. The posters on one wall, film camera photos on another. The string lights which wrap around your room and give it a warm glow. The plants, the subtle scent of vanilla. The bag you always carried with you, hanging off the side of your chair. He almost felt like he was intruding, like he was getting an intimate glimpse of something that was for your eyes only. 

“Whats up,” he says, holding his laptop and closing the door behind him. 

“Ready to finally start the show,” you laugh, “it’s about damn time.”

“Hey, I’ve been ready, it’s you who’s been taking your sweet time.”

“Is that so?” you ask sarcastically and a smile forms on his face.

“What are you doing over there? Who sits like that on their bed?” he asks, now coming over and taking a seat on your mattress facing vertically, propping your other pillow behind his back. “Can’t even stretch out your legs or anything,” he continues, patting the spot on the bed next to him, signaling for you to come over.

“I don’t know, I think it’s comfy,” you lie as you crawl over to him, your first line of defense already shot down. 

“Weirdo,” he chuckles to which you nudge him in the side with your elbow. “If Topper’s wrong about this I’m gonna give him so much shit,” he says.

“Topper does have a lot of questionable opinions,” you laugh, “but I have a good feeling about this one.

—

One episode turned into two turned into three, you and Rafe instantly hooked. The nerves you had felt earlier at sitting so close next to this boy in your bed had all but dissipated, you quickly acclimating to the space he took up next to you. Even though by now all your previous misconceptions about Rafe had disappeared, replaced with the boy you had come to know over the past week, there was a small part of you that was still waiting to see if he’d try to pull something on you, like the Rafe you imagined back home surely would. Of course he didn’t, watching and discussing the show with you, making you feel as comfortable as if you two had been friends for years. You almost felt bad for having had doubted him in the first place.

When the third episode ended and you two got into a long post-episode discussion, you hardly noticed when the conversation began to digress. You both started to sink lower and lower down into your pillows, until you were both laying on your backs, staring at the ceiling and lost in exchanges of words and thoughts. The conversation was different this time, more candid and open, as if the shadow of the night was inviting you to divulge thoughts you wouldn’t have shared in the day. He spoke of his strained relationship with his father and you shared the silly drama that had caused a riff between you and your former friends back home. He showed you pictures of his dog and you showed him the video you had been working on all summer long in OBX, not having anyone to hang out with before you left for London. He talked about how he felt so disconnected from almost everyone on that island, and you nodded, understanding all too well. The conversation continued to ebb and flow, the occasional funny video or meme pulling you two into fits of laughter before seamlessly delving into another vulnerable train of thought. You both had your Spotify accounts open now, taking turns sharing your favorite songs. You put on a playlist you had made over the summer, full of songs that made you feel at peace. 

“This puts you at ease huh,” he says.

You turn your head to look at him, “how could you tell?”

“I don’t know. I guess just the way your whole body relaxed the second you pressed play,” he replies.

“Yeah,” you say turning your head back toward the ceiling. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel like these songs are speaking to my soul or something,” you whisper.

“Yeah I get that… I have those too,” he whispers back. Neither of you realize it’s already 5 am and neither of you notice as your eyes both get heavy and sleep washes over you, playlist in the background like a lullaby. And at some point during your deep sleep, Rafe’s arm has found itself unconsciously wrapped around you.

---

Part 4

a/n: lemme know what you think!(:

[k3rm1e]

hiihi !! ive been loving all the stuuf yoube been wirting latley its so good :^D i ws wondering if i ciuld have some hcs ,or just a onrshot either or i dont mind, of reader geeting sick and mumza nd dadza take care of them ?? bc i lovr mr and mrs minecraft <33 liek like reader like "ahh im finr mr minecraft" and they have 102° fever Nd have a runny nose and mr minecatft is liek "mmm no i dont thnik so m8" nd yaeh !! they/them pronouns but i thnk uve benn doing that arleady - :^) anon

sickly

hiihi !! ive been loving all the stuuf yoube been wirting latley its so good :^D i ws wondering if i ciuld have some hcs ,or just a onrshot either or i dont mind, of reader geeting sick and mumza nd dadza take care of them ?? bc i lovr mr and mrs minecraft <33 liek like reader like "ahh im finr mr minecraft" and they have 102° fever Nd have a runny nose and mr minecatft is liek "mmm no i dont thnik so m8" nd yaeh !! they/them pronouns but i thnk uve benn doing that arleady - :^) anon

:^) anon my beloved;;;;; i love your brain. this could go two ways depending on whether you’re staying with phil or if you guys are online so i went with your staying with him. i also did a one shot but if you want hcs i hv no problem writing some :) i hope this is good!

cw: cursing

mumza and dadza take care of you:

  it had finally happened. while covid wasn't fully over just yet, many had gotten the vaccine and conventions were opening up again. which meant two things: meetups and twitchcon. finally, you could meet some of your supporters and see your friends.

  “mom, are we almost there?” your mom was driving you to the airbnb you’d be staying at with a few of the other dream smp members. at first, you assumed you’d all be staying in separate hotel rooms. but, this way, you could spend more time with friends, save money, and your mom wouldn’t have to be with you the whole time. there had already been many long conversations between philza and your mom to make sure you’d be safe staying with everyone.

  “yes, sweetie. almost there. we’re just two minutes closter than when you asked earlier.” ok, sue you, maybe you were a bit excited. but really, who could blame you? making in person friends had never been easiest, so the majority of your friendship were with people online. not being able to see or meet anyone for so long had been excruciatingly painful. 

  within ten minutes, you had finally arrived at the airbnb. quickly jumping out you ran to the door, obnoxiously ringing the doorbell. through the door, you heard an accented voice yell out, “i’m coming, i’m coming!”. at this point you were springing up and down on your tippy-toes, ready to spring out of your skin.

  the door opened and you were greeted by a very tired and annoyed looking wilbur, “hello?”.

`   “WILBURRRR!!!” you were screaming in his face (unintentionally), waking him up from his drowsiness. you launched yourself in his arms, not paying attention to your mother’s bewildered expression. you quickly let go of him and shoved past him, “i’m gonna go say hi to everyone!” distantly you heard wilbur begin to talk to your mother, explaining what you guys were doing.

  while running around you said hi to tommy, tubbo, ranboo, eret, fundy, niki, techno, phil and kristin. the others were either staying in another airbnb or in their own hotel rooms. after about thirty minutes, wilbur had finally stopped talking to your mom.

  “yes, ma’am. i can promise you they’ll be completely safe. you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” wilbur was calmly talking with your mother, looking more and more tired by the minute.

  “alright. thank you.” your mother called you over. “come give me a hug and say bye!” slowly dragging your limbs over, you let her hug you. behind you you could hear wilbur and phil laughing at you.

  “bye mom…” she was holding onto you tightly, petting down your hair.

  “oh, sweetie, i love you so much. i’m so happy you found something you're passionate about and made so many lovely friends while doing so.” as much as you loved your mom, the small snickers behind you were getting quite embarrassing. you could hear that tommy had joined in on the laughing. 

  “... i love you too, mom. can you let go now?” you tried pulling back, but all she did was pull you closer.

  “oh, but i just don’t wanna let you go. i love you so much, you know that right?”

  “i know, mom. i love you too. but you’ve gotta get home and i have to unpack and get ready for meeting with fans tomorrow.” you finally got her to pull away, “i love you mom, okay? thank you for letting me do this.”

  “oh, i love you too, sweetie.” and with that, your mom left. after watching her pull out of the driveway and down the street, you whipped around.

  “not. a. single. word.” you stared dead in the boy’s eyes, seeing just how much wilbur was about to burst out laughing.

  “what? personally, i think it’s very sweet.” tommy was smiling, purposely pissing you off. “so sweet, how much your mom loves you.”

  “shut your fucking mouth, tommy.” you stared deadpan at him and began walking inside and over to the kitchen.

  “what? i didn’t say anything wrong! i was just simply commenting on your very, very sweet relationship with your mother.”

  kristin moved forward to talk to you, “for what it’s worth, i do thing you hae a very sweet relationship with your mom.”

  “thank you. you’re the only good one in this house, kristin minecraft.” with that she laughed, and you all continued on with your evening. after staying up late watching old youtube videos, you all went to bed. in the morning you would have your first day of three at twitchcon, meeting fans and other creators alike. 

  for around 10 hours, you stood in booths signing fanart, prints, notebooks, and the like. meeting so many different people was eye opening, just learning who supported you. at the end of the day everyone went to a restaurant to eat dinner after so long.

  “this food… is so… fucking good.”

  “agreed.” you and the rest of the so-called ‘bench trio’ were eating at what wilbur had deemed the ‘kiddy table’. after eating so much food you were all tired. the rest of your friends had already left, walking back to the airbnb. when it was finally time to leave the restaurant, it was pouring rain.

  “WHY IS THE RAIN SO COLD IT’S LITERALLY SUMMER”

  after running home you had gone to sleep while the others had changed and taken showers. after sleeping for around ten hours, you had finally woken up. frankly, you felt like dogshit. you could barely breathe out of your stuffy nose and your head felt like it had been shoved full of wet cotton balls.

  instead of staying in bed, you got up and tried to get ready. on the way downstairs to get food and see who was making so much noise, you fell face first down the stairs. “owwwww…”

  hearing a ruckus, phil and kristin left the kitchen, where they were making pancakes. “holy shit! are you alright, mate?”

  pushing phil over, kristin walked over to you, “obviously they’re not okay phil! the poor kid is lying on the floor.”

  slowly getting up, you try to reassure both of them that you’re okay. “no, no, no, don’t worry. i am perfectly okay.” while you don’t know exactly how you sound, based on the expression on phil’s face, you don't think you sound very good.

  “uh, yeah, how about no. you sound like you’ve draken a whale bottle of vodka.” phil walked over to you and grabbed you by the arm, trying to hold you up.

  “i’m fineeee”

  “no, your fucking not. you’re burning up.” phil looked at you, angrily. “you need to go to bed.”

  “but i don’t wannaaaaa. i feel fineeee.” you felt like crying, for absolutely no reason. with that, you passed out on the floor.

  phil and kristin somehow managed to get you back up the stairs and into bed. once you were safely in your room, with no risk of cracking your skull open, phil took your temperature. “mate, your temperature is at nearly 102°. you’re lucky i don’t take you to a hospital.” he started at you, disapprovingly.

  “i’m sorryyyyy dadza. are you mad at me?” in your deluded state you pouted at him, like a child.

  “no, i’m not mad at you. just disappointed. you should’ve known not to do that. you’re old enough to know when you’re sick.” he stared at you with a disapproving look.

  “but that’s even worseeeeee” you felt like balling your eyes out. out of embarrassment, you tried to hide under your blanket. “can you tell mumza i’m sorry for worrying her?”

  above you, you heard phil laugh. “it’s not that big a deal, kid. i’m just upset. you could’ve seriously hurt yourself. i was worried.”

  “you were worried about me? awwwww, i love you too dadza.” you moved your head out of the blankets, smiling at him with dried tears and sweat on your face.

  “yeah, yeah. now shut up and go to bed.”

  kristin walked in, hearing what he said. “phil, don’t bully the kid. they already feel like shit.” out of the corner of your eye, you saw her look over to phil and smile at him.

  “i’m not doing anything, swear on my life!” he put his hands up in defense of himself, making you laugh.

  turning away from him, she directed her next question towards you. “how you feeling, kid? took quite a tumble there.” she smiled at you and ushed your hair out of your face.

  “i’m sorry for worrying youuuuuu. i love you, mumza. promise.”

  laughing, she leaned down to kiss you on the head. “love you too, kid. now, want me to sit with you and we can all watch some netflix or something?”

  you silently nodded and the two of them joined you on the bed, not caring very much if they got sick. after not even an hour, you all passed out.

  a few hours later, everyone returned back from the convention. let’s just say wilbur now had some very valuable blackmail.

hope you like it! this was so wholesome i- wfowcsjvri

i want parents like dadza and mumza now

[haikyuuthots]

Hi I love your fics. I read all your ushijima ones and I loved them ☺️ Is there any way you can write some ushijima angst please??? Thank you I hope you have a great day 💖

Misunderstanding- Wakatoshi Ushijima

Pairing: reader x Ushijima

Word count: 1.8K

Warnings: curse words, some arguing, angst.

Synopsis: your boyfriend overhears you talking to your friend, and is offended by what you said. You had no idea why he was giving you the silent treatment.

A/n: here ya go bestie, I’m sorry it’s a little late, I’ve been working :/ thank u luv and appreciate u 🤍

MASTERLIST

————————————————————————-

Being with Ushijima was a literal dream. Although he almost always held a stoic expression and wasn’t into public demonstration of affection. There was no doubt that Ushijima loved you, and was only ever soft with you.

From another persons perspective, Ushijima could seem uninterested or inexpressive, but to you Ushijimas feeling were the most evident, you never had to question what he could be thinking or feeling. But one day, everything felt off, for the first time , you had no idea what was on his mind.

Ushijima was home early from practice that day. You didn’t notice him walk in because you were on FaceTime with your friend. Last night all three of you went to dinner and you two were talking about the experience. Ushijima can hear you’re on the phone so as he’s making his way to your shared bedroom he walks around quietly not wanting to disturb you from the call. Stopping at the crack of the door, he can’t help but overhear the conversation between you and your friend.

“Yeah he just doesn’t really know how to express himself, sorry if it felt a little awkward.”

Your friend lets out a small laugh “no girl you’re good, it’s funny he’s kinda like a brick wall.”

Ushijima’s chest tightens upon hearing this comment from your friend, becoming a bit offended.

You on the other hand laugh out loud at her comment, you found it kind of funny. This offends your boyfriend even more he expected you’d at least try to defend him but instead you continued to agree.

“He kinda is.” You chuckle out “it’s like he’s like this the whole time.” You finish your sentence by changing your posture to stand completely still, with no expression on your face. Doing your best to “imitate” him. Your friend bursts into a fit of laughter and you briefly join her.

Ushijima has heard enough at this point, becoming angered by the fact that you would ver talk about him behind his back negatively. With a scowl on his face and a hurt heart he angrily makes his way out.

You on the other hand are still unaware that he was ever present at all, and continue talking

“No I'm just kidding. Honestly, he’s actually a big softie believe it or not. He cares about me and always makes sure to show me he does. He’s literally the sweetest person on the planet. Foreal girl I’m down bad.” You chuckle “I love him so much, I couldn’t ask for anyone better.” Your friend gives you a sincere smile as she hears you gush about your boyfriend “I can tell. Honestly he does seem like a really great guy. I’m so happy for you.”

As you continue to listen to her speak, you’re suddenly startled by a sound coming from your living room. You go to look to see what it is but you find nothing. You shrug it off and continue with the call.

Unbeknownst to you though, your boyfriend had actually been there and just left again, closing the front door of the house. He had no idea what to do with this built up anger growing inside him so he decided to go with his best friend Tendou to avoid you until he calmed down. Overhearing you say those words, really did hurt his feelings, and it made him insecure.

You continued on the call for another 20 minutes before you ended it

“Okay so I’m gonna go, it’s almost 9 so Ushijima should be home soon.” You tell your friend.

You both say your final goodbyes and hang up. Now you were jut waiting for your boyfriends arrival.

It was almost midnight and your boyfriend had still not returned home. You were worried sick, calling and texting him every 30 minutes. But he never answered any of them. You were freaking out, debating whether or not you should go look for him. When you finally came to a decision you heard the front door open and saw your boyfriend walk right through it.

You let out a giant sigh of relief, as you run over to him

“Oh my god Toshi, where have you been?!” You say as you make your way over to hug him.

He doesn’t answer or reciprocate the hug, confused you pull away

“Do you know how worried I was?! I thought something happened to you.” You say, annoyance obvious in your tone

Ushijimas stoic expression never changes as he stares down at you, still not muttering a word he continues to walk in shoving you to the side.

You’re extremely confused by this behavior. Ushijima never ignored you and he never ever went somewhere without letting you know first. Everything he did was out of character, and the fact that he ignored all your questions and avoided you completely angered you. You quickly follow him back to your shared bedroom, raising your voice you speak again

“Why are you ignoring me? Where the hell were you? Why didn’t you answer any of my messages?”

He still doesn’t say a word and this pisses you off even more. You forcefully turn him around to face you, your hand gripping on his arm “I’m talking to you” you angrily say

Instantly Ushijima yanks his arm away from your grip “don’t touch me y/n” the seriousness in his voice is almost scary.

You’re taken aback by his actions, you had no idea what was wrong with him. Why was he being so cold to you? He has never once acted this hostile towards you, you couldn’t wrap your head around what could’ve been wrong.

“A-are you mad at me or something?” You stutter out,

Still your boyfriend says no words, proceeding to grab a blanket and pillow,

“I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight. Don’t follow me.” He states as he briefly looks behind him to look at you one last time before walking out.

You felt defeated, the tears you were desperately trying to hold back, finally making their way out. You felt heartbroken, that your boyfriend whom you loved very much wanted nothing to do with you, and you had no idea why.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, overthinking and wondering why Ushijima had such a giant shift in character.

For the next two days, you barely spoke to your boyfriend. You missed him, and not being able to speak to him hurt you very much. All you wanted to do was talk to him and work things out, but he didn’t seem to want to do the same, considering the fact that every time you directed a word to him, he’d only stare blankly and ignore you.

Now, you’ve had enough, you weren’t going to take this torture anymore, if he wanted to give you the silent treatment, you needed to know why.

It was 9:30 pm when he walked through the front door returning from practice. You wasted no time and instantly made your way over to him

“We need to talk.” No answer

You groan “fuck Ushijima it’s been two days, can you please just talk to me?”

“Why are you mad at me, what did I do??” You’re voice is sounding more desperate now. But he just continues to make his way to the closet.

“Talk to me!!! Im tired of this, it feels like I’m talking to a fucking wall.” You yell out.

This comment seems to trigger Ushijima, as it finally incites a response from him

“If that’s how you feel then maybe you should just leave!” His voice is louder than you’ve ever heard it before

He’s staring at you with a hurt gaze, “if you’ve always felt like I’m such a wall then why are you even with me?”

You’re shocked at his sudden outburst, feeling hurt by his words

“Is that what you want?” You quietly let out, “you want us to break up?”

You’re trying your best to hold back tears “but why!?”

“This is what YOU want. You made that pretty obvious.”

You’re beyond confused “what are you even talking about, why would I want this??”

“I know I bore you y/n! You don’t have to pretend to spare my feelings anymore.”

“W-what? Where did you get that from? Why would you say that?”

At this point the tears you were holding back are spilling out Ushijima’s gaze softens as he notices, his voice calming down a bit. He didn’t care how hurt he felt, the last thing he wanted to do was watch you cry.

“I heard you that night. You were talking to y/f/n. And I heard how you feel like I’m a brick wall with no expression.”

You’re staring at him in shock, you had no idea Ushijima had even been there that night.

“Toshi. I was only joking I swear. Instanly right after I ranted about how much you actually aren’t a brick wall, and how much I love you.” You place your hand on his cheek, making him look down at you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I promise I don’t feel that way at all.”

Ushijima melts in your touch, listening to your apologies, “i overreacted. Yes you hurt my feelings a bit but I should’ve talked to you about it.”

You make your way to hug him, and for the first time in two days he finally holds you into the embrace “no toshi. I made a dumb joke, and you didn’t listen to the entire context so it was easy to misunderstand. It’s not your fault, you had every right to be upset.”

He’s squeezing you, slowly rubbing his hands on your back, as a form of comfort

“It’s just, I know I’m not the most expressive, so when I heard you say that, I couldn’t help but feel that you were right. All I could think about was how much better you’d be with someone who matched your energy.”

You pull away and you look up at him “stop, don’t say that. I don’t need anyone else but you. You’re everything I want, I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I love you for you Toshi.”

You bury your face into his chest, tears beginning to fall from your face again, “I can’t believe I made you feel that way I’m so sorry.”

Ushijima holds you closer, his heart breaking at the sight of you crying again “please stop crying y/n. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He held your chin up, his big hand wiping away your remaining tears. With a loving gaze he speaks again,

“I love you too y/n.” Instantly he bends down to connect his lips onto yours. He was so gentle as he kissed you, you instanly reciprocated, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you tighter by the waist.

You missed being this close with your boyfriend, all you’ve wanted for the last two days was to be like this with him.

As you pull away, you speak again “promise me you’ll talk to me next time. Any problem you have please tell me, it hurt too much being away from you.”

“I will” he responds, leaning in for another kiss.

You loved your boyfriend, you truly didn’t want anyone but him.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Henry finding his Little hiding in the master closet, crying her eyes out because she misunderstood him saying he wanted a new Little.

Oh sweet jesus! I have to admit this was good practice, im not one for angsty stuff but this turned out okay i think? I hope you like it

Warnings: DDLG, Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Tantrums

You hid on the stairs, standing on them so your eye were level with the floor of the landing.

Things were different since you come back home.

You'd been visiting your parents for two weeks to help out, they had moved to France inspired by the chateau renovations so packed up and moved into a huge castle like home.

Renovating was harder then they expected and needed some extra hands so you decided to help them out.

Its the least you can do when they were going to let you and henry get married there for free.

But then another lockdown came and you had to return home four days early, but it couldn't be helped, your parents sent you packing not wanting you to be stranded in France for months on end.

Henry had been too busy to come, saying he needed to stay home and sort out a few important things.

You'd been home just over a day and had noticed the house was different.

Well not the whole house, but there was no trace of any of your little things anymore.

Henry was busy running about the place chasing up phone calls and deliveries, he said he was late and still had too much to do and that he was sorry then locked himself in the office.

With brings you to now, alone confused and upset. So you decided to go and cuddle up in your nursery and wait out what ever had your daddy occupied.

Slowly you tip toed past the office hearing henry raise his voice growling a little.

You would have stopped and asked him if he was okay, but he got mad when you eavesdropped, it usually landed you on the naughty step.

You passed the office's cracked open door with ease, it'd be best to ask later. Besides the office wasn't a nice place, it was boring and you only ended up in there if you were bad and about to be spanked real bad! Its where your cane lived.

You scrunched your nose as you got closer to the nursery, the smell of paint and sawdust filling your nose. It was an awful stink!

Still you pressed forward stepping into the room.

You froze and suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

The room was bare, your toys and stuffies all packed in boxes in the corner.

Your crib was gone, the blanket fort, changing table everything!

The walls were now a pale seafoam green with sea otter stickers on them, tall seaweed stickers dotted about the room.

This wasn't your room! This wasn't your nursey!

You gasped panicking looking around feeling your tummy drop and twist, a lump in your throat.

They pink princess blinds gone, your drawings no where to be found.

There was nothing of yours in here! Nothing at all.

You crumpled to the floor as you spied the wall that once held your name in cute cursive stickers on it. They too were gone, removed and the wall painted over.

You shook your head trembling, you hadn't come in here yesterday, you'd come home and gone straight to bed you were tired it'd been hell getting home.

You stepped backwards out of the forign room on the verge of tears.

You sniffled rubbing your eyes and padded down the hall again unsure what all this meant.

"Yes... Yes I know-No of course I haven't told her!.... Yes I know change is hard for littles but she'll be okay, once I explain things she will be fine, she's a tough cookie" henry huffed down the phone irritated. You crept closer to the door and listened closer, perhaps spying with once will help reassure you. Because this must be a misunderstanding.

"yes well I want to move on, everytime I go in there... Its not her room never has been they are two completely different littles both in age and personality, I didn't- I never changed it until now... Honestly I'm sick of the sight of it, we all need a fresh start once in a while" henry explained with a sharp bite to his words.

You froze on the spot, two different littles? He had two? You didn't know that.

Your heart pulled painfully in your chest as you got an image of a faceless yet beautiful 'proper little' who liked nappies and bottles!

You bit your lip and shifted trying to hear more clearly, because this didn't seem right, you couldn't belive

"I was hoping to have it done before she got back and sort of ease her into it on the way home but then the lockdown.... Yes well I just think of this as a new start- like having a brand new little... I'm excited to begin again! This time its for real and I'm pouring everything I can into it..."

"I really do love her, so so much and this is it for me. I've tried so hard to make this happen but now.. I don't want to upset her but we need this, its been a year now and.. I don't know maybe I'm selfish but I want this to be my littles room, my true little girls home you know? Not the other one"

"so do you think it'll be here today? I'll send y/n out with Kal when you bring it round, no point having a little misunderstanding before i can explain things properly, yes okay.. Okay i will see you this afternoon, bye"

You covered your mouth at the way his voice picked up, he was happy... And he was replacing you.

You jumped up running down the hall trying not to let him hear you crying.

You found yourself in the closet sobbing your heart out cursing him as you curled up in the corner shutting the door behind you with a loud slam.

Not that you cared, you were far to upset, slowly pawing at your clothes tugging them off the hangers.

You watched through blurry eyes as your hands tugged and bundled the clothes wiping your face on them as you tried to pull yourself together and pack your stuff knowing you would be sent on your way very soon.

You bawling was halted as the closet door was ripped open a panicked henry standing there panting, clearly he had been running.

"oh-god baby what's wrong?! What's happened princess-"

"NO! NO YOU DON'T- LE-LEAVE ME ALONE!" you shouted at him sobbing your heart out.

Henry frowned at your anger and despair. Then crouched down in front of you.

"baby what's wrong love? I got here as fast as I could- are you hurt? Why are you so upset babygirl?" he pleaded wide worried eyes looking you over trying to see what had made you cry so bad.

"N-NO YOU JUST-FUCK OFF YOUR NOT MY DADDY! YOUR NO'MY DADDY! YOUR A LIAR AND BAD-IM GOING HOME- GONNA GO TO FRANC WITH MUMMAND DAD AND-AND LIVE IN A CATLE AND FIND A REAL PRNCE-" you screamed at him sobbing louder.

Henry frowned and tried you coax you out of the closet unsure what the hell had gotten into you, it wasn't like you to throw such a tantrum.

"hey nugget that's not very nice baby, here come here and lets talk-" he spoke hurt and upset as his hands moved to tug you out of the closet.

You growled and snapped your teeth at him and began smacking him aiming for his, hands face, legs anything you could reach wanting him to leave you alone.

"HEY! Whoa what the hell is wrong with you young lady? Now you get your butt out here now!" henry snapped managing to capture your wrists and tug you out of the closet as you screamed and thrashed.

"NOOO NO NO YOUR NOT MY DADDY! YOU-R NO'm-my daddy your not!" you shouting became a broken sobs as henry picked you up and laid on the bed with you tucking you into his body wrapping himself around you.

You stayed like that crying into the pillow tugging every so often trying to free yourself from him.

"now do you want to explain where all this is coming from?" he asked getting upset with you as you wouldn't explain what was going on instead you just cried harder.

After a few more minuets of henry shushing you and kissing your head you calmed enough to start explaining.

"y-you don't wan'me!" you muttered as you wept still unable to fully stop your crying.

"wh-what?! Oh baby what do you mean I don't want you? I love you!" he implored quickly unsure where this was

"liar, you said- to the man that your movin' on and stratin'gain an- an my room! Daddy my stuffs gone! And and-lemme go! Your not-your mean!" you whimpered before getting all worked up again choking on your own sobs and began fussing again trying to get away once more.

"alright alright now that's enough. You silly girl were you eavesdropping again little one? This is why daddy has told you not to eavesdrop! You only heard half of the conversation-" he began scolding quietly realising what had happened.

"i heard 'nouhg" you cut him off snidely

"you heard nothing, you silly girl. Daddy isn't getting rid of you, or your things- well not everything" he huffed having just about enough of this tantrum already.

"I'm redecorating your nursery for you. I'm ridding the house of my old little! Dumping all her furniture and getting you your own customised stuff" he said makeing you pause and rub your eyes craning your head to look back at him.

"wh-wha?"

Henry sighed and gave you a pointed look.

"see you might think you heard enough but you didn't, daddy in making a cute little seaside nursery, that why their are sea otters on your wall, their your favourite animal aren't they?." he chided speaking slowly to be sure you were listening.

"w-well yeah b-but my names gone?" you blubbered quietly starting to feel silly for your out burst.

"because daddy was painting the walls poppet and your names on your new crib that's coming today, this was a surprize for when you come home from France... Your own brand new nursery for a toddling little, not a baby-baby..." he hummed softly kissing your shoulders.

You sniffled and mewled before quickly spinning around to face him and then began crying into him feeling guilty. He was doing something nice and you ruined it!

Henry chuckled but held you close hushing you sweetly pressing kisses to your head as he soothed you.

"here come with me" he urged standing picking you up taking you into the office.

You squirmed and clutched at him tightly worried he was gonna spank you for being naughty, eavesdropping, hitting, biting swearing and batting? That was quite a tally.

Instead henry sat on the chair and logged into the computer.

"here see? This it yours and coming today" he said motioning to the screen showing an incredibly beautiful lightwood crib your name carved into the head and foot board with tiny wave detailing and a small pattern of shells on the rim.

"see, your my true little and as such daddy wants to make it official by making you your very own sea side themed nursery, with new toys and furniture and blankie! Starting fresh this time with everything all centred around my perfect little one!" he hummed kissing your head as you sniffled and panted.

"s-so your not- gettin' rid of me?" you whimpered looking to your lap.

"god no! We're getting married! Your my babygirl and I'm your daddy! I'll always be your daddy... I'm sorry to have scared you poppet, i just wanted to surprize you but.. I should of warned you shouldn't I?" henry sighed twisting you in his lap and snuggling you.

"n-no i should've asked and not been bad daddy... Sorry... You can spank me for bein' bad"

"... Although you do deserve a spanking for spying and bratting... Daddy will make you a deal, you help me finish your nursery and I will ignore your naughtiness." he offered holding out a pinky to you.

"r-really i can help?" you asked quietly twiddling your fingers shyly feeling more and more guilty for your behaviour as the seconds ticked by.

"yes poppet, you can help"  he said rubbing your back with a little chuckle as you leant into him.

"and no spankin'?" you asked slowly

"not unless you want one to make you feel better" he agreed, but he knew sometimes you didn't want to be let off, sometimes you were to upset with yourself and wanted him to correct you.

"No.. I don't want a spankin daddy.." you said warily glancing at the small space behind the large money tree, the plant hiding your cane just out of view.

"okay then it's a deal, no spankings in return of some hard labour!" he teased and hooked his pinkie around yours making it a real deal then kissed you and squeezed you tight groaning.

"such a silly nugget, you should know by now daddy loves you too much to ever leave you, noone-absolutely no one can ever make me as happy as you!" he assured you feeling a lump form in his throat, he couldn't wait until you were married, then maybe you'd stop all your worrying, you seemed to have this strange idea that you wasn't good enough. Or little enough.

You liked cribs and sippy's and pacies occasionally bottles- when you were ill mostly but not nappies or that type of care. You were a three to four.

"i love you daddy, you are my daddy... I was mad" you anounced quietly nibbling your fingers shyly almost using them to hide behind.

"i know baby, but thank you it means the world to hear you say that, now lets go make some lunch then make a start- we have to stain the skirting board on the back wall before your crib gats here" he said standing up with you setting you on his hip and began moveing though the house.

You rested your face in his neck breathing him in, that had been the most terrifying moment you'd had in this relationship! The thought of him leaving you after you sharing so much with him was your worst nightmare.

All you could say was that from now on, you really wasn't going to eavesdrop anymore. If you had questions you would ask instead to avoid things like this in the future.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Four

Ao3,   Masterpost,   C.1  C.2  C.3

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships

tumblr edits out my italics when i copy/paste, and its midnight on a school night, so. italics arent in the tumblr version of this chapter cuz im not manually replacing them rn :P

Warnings: Taxidermy, swearing, fights (verbally, not physically), mentions of death, sexual innuedo (thanks remus), sympathetic everyone but there is Conflict. 

Word Count: 2,645

Patton had learned, in his many years of emotion-filled life, that every person interacted with others uniquely. An obvious thing to learn, maybe, but in his younger years he felt like it really wasn’t made clear enough.

When it finally hit Patton that other people didn’t feel things in just the same way he did, it came with slow disbelief. Shocked was he to learn that not only were people so vastly different inside, but that he might’ve been one of the most different of all- even with the other sides. After all, each of them had seemed to understand all their differences like it was second nature, while Patton tried to come to terms with the information.

And come to terms with it he had, throughout Thomas’ late teens to early twenties. It was just Patton’s nature to try and learn about his friends, and that didn’t change when the task got harder. If anything, he’d become furiously determined to know how to care for all his family better than anyone, even if it more than once sent him spiralling in thought.  

Logan, for example, was at his best when he was around other people; calmly talking, debating, doing work in the same space, anything that amounted to time spent together. So, even when Patton didn’t know what he was going on about, he did his best to at least be someone Logan could talk at. Which must’ve have worked somehow, because Patton couldn’t even count the times anymore he’d realized it had been hours after starting a conversation with his best friend, the both of them grinning and talking and enjoying each other’s company. Color Logan understood!

Roman, an even easier case to crack, didn’t really care what kind of attention he got- as long as it was positive. Which Patton was of course happy to provide! Though Roman became easily suspicious of any signs of friendship, Patton liked to think he’d weaseled his way into being a close companion, if the amount of times Roman dragged him off on adventures was any indication. Roman, too, was a check! 

Virgil had been harder to figure out; not enough support and he got nervous, too much and he’d get overwhelmed. Fine balances did not come easily to Patton, so there had been more than a little trial and error. He’d eventually landed on treating him not unlike a wild cat: to just exist in the same space and let Virgil do whatever he wanted in his own time (a method that had found resounding success!). Virgil, much as he wanted to seem mysterious, was also marked off the list of understanding. 

Janus was deceptively easy to work out. He just needed someone to challenge him, all in good sport, to be friendly and frustrating at the same time. Call it environmental enrichment, but with people! Patton was more than happy to be one of those people, pushing and pulling in equal parts banter and genuine conversation. Janus, surprisingly, was clear as well. 

Patton wondered if it was weird to think about it so much. He thought about all of them, and he wondered if they took time to decode him, too. Or maybe they just knew already- they saw the heart on his sleeve (or chest, as it were) and had him all figured out right then.

He liked to believe they did spend time thinking about it, though. It was nice to think he wasn’t the only one that cared enough to take the time, and he knew that they cared about him already! Even if they didn’t say it as much as he did, even if they showed it all differently, and even if sometimes it felt like they didn’t understand him… 

They still cared. The hoodie around his shoulders said so. The card framed on his wall said so. The stray dog dander on his clothes said so. So long as he had that, who needed the luxury of understanding?

Patton shook his head, no, he wasn’t worrying about all them right now. Right now, there was someone else to worry about.

Remus. Remus, who always chatted on and on, but sometimes went dead quiet for no reason at all; whose expression never seemed to match his words, who laughed when he was happy and when he was angry, who yelled when he was bored and when he was overwhelmed. Remus, who threw himself around a corner for a cheap jumpscare every five minutes, limbs broken and wrapped in ragged, punk-style clothes. Who would also drape himself all the way across Patton gently and calmly, wearing something baggy and impossibly soft (but still neon as ever), talking and talking and acting like it was all perfectly normal. Remus, who Patton wasn’t even sure was officially his friend yet.

Patton wanted him to be. But there was still… something in the way. Some kind of frustrating, tense, unknowable barrier that left him on edge around the trait. If Remus could just tell him something, anything, or give him any hints at all about what Patton was supposed to make of him, then it wouldn’t be so downright impossible. But he was inscrutable, an open book written in a language Patton didn’t know.

Whenever Remus walked into the room, it was almost like nothing had even changed since his acceptance. 

Speaking of-

Patton barely had time to dodge out of the way as Remus leapt onto the couch, landing in a sprawl and taking up as much space as possible. He looked out of breath, so he’d probably booked it down the hallway and stairs, too. Just as probable was him having no reason for doing so at all. 

“Hello,” Patton said.

Remus, from his laid down position, arched his neck up until he was peering upside-down at Morality. He had a reserved look in his eyes, but it was obvious he was fighting not to grin. 

“Guess what I did.”

Patton paused. There were… a lot of ways that could go. Most of them weird.

“Um-”

Remus made a disturbingly accurate buzzer noise, exclaiming, “Took too long!”. He flipped over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his palms, his legs draped over the arm of the couch, and rocked back and forth excitedly. “I made you something!” 

The worry slipped out of Patton’s mind, replaced by curiosity. He hummed, smiling, and asked:

“Like a gift?” 

Remus beamed.

“Something like that!”

As Patton laughed by response, he ran his thumb compulsively over his bead bracelet (that he hadn’t taken off even once since getting, of course). 

“That’s so sweet!” he chirped, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The Duke puffed out a breath, ruffling the white section of his hair. He rolled his eyes and shifted around, pushing up until he sat upright. 

“Yeah, I know. Haven’t we done this dance before, Morey?”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Patton shrugged, his expression turning sheepish, “What is it, then?”

Remus’ grin widened in that almost impossibly way of his, and something about the glint of his teeth was distinctly threatening. It probably wasn’t intentional, but Patton could never really tell, when his claws tapped impatiently against his leg and something mischievous wormed into his expression.

“Well, you have to close your eyes, first!” Remus clapped his hands together, and there that glint seemed to get brighter.

“Oh, uh-”

“It’s not gonna be my dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Patton yelped, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. 

“Well I wasn’t worried before you said that!”

Remus shrieked with laughter. Patton didn’t move his hands from his cheeks, a flush of discomfort starting at his ears and pricking his skin. 

“You’re hilarious, but no- not this time, at least,” -Remus winked- “But just close your eyes, okay?”

Patton took a couple deep breaths, glancing up to give Remus his best approximation of a stern glare. He then let his hands drop to his lap, palms up, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

There was a soft whoosh, and something small was dropped into Patton’s waiting hands. He ran the pad of his thumb over its surface, tracing something like fur. Soft, short fur, but when he pressed it was far too stiff to be a plush animal. 

“Remus,” Patton felt along the object with both hands, jolting when he felt something scaly at the end, “What-”

“You can look now!”

Patton did as told, staring down at his lap. 

There laid a rat. 

A dead one, to be precise. A dead, taxidermized rat, posed up on its hind legs like some goofy little cartoon character. It’s eyes were impersonal glass orbs, but its skin was perfectly, horribly real.

Patton looked up, his eyes wide with disgust, to see unfiltered excitement shining on Remus’ face. 

“I made it myself!” His pride echoed in the words, that grin stretching his lips looking all the more unnatural.

It was then that Patton’s body caught up with his brain, and he realized what exactly he was holding. He dropped it- all but threw it, actually- kicked it and scrambled back and anything to just get away. 

The gift fell to the floor with a dull thump, toppling under the coffee table and out of sight. Patton pressed his hand against his mouth, the other one tightly fisted in his lap. He felt sick- sick enough that his brain was leagues away from rationality. Because he’d really touched- held- that corpse, that thing that used to be a cute little critter, what was now a homemade trinket of horror.

He turned his attention back to Remus, and a million thoughts and feelings rushed him. Betrayal, horror, fear- and weirdest of all was surprise.

Remus’ smile twitched, and he tipped his head from side to side.

“You dropped it,” he pointed out, “I thought you liked rats?”

The noise Patton made was something between a gasp and a cry. 

“I like alive ones!” He exclaimed, pushing himself back until there was a good cushion’s distance between himself and Remus. 

Remus’ smile dipped lower. 

“Well, this way you don’t have to take care of it! It’s all of the cute with none of the trouble!”

“You think this is cute?!” 

He couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything- he hadn’t gotten through to Remus even a little? It was all still a game for him to terrorize Patton? To shove dead things into his lap and laugh about it?

But Remus wasn’t laughing, strangely. In fact, he was very still. 

“You don’t like it?”

In hindsight, Patton would look back on what he said with remorse so strong it gave him headaches. He had scores of memories like that, of course, but this one’s sting would never fade, not even long after they’d moved on from it. But in that moment of fear, of revile, he could not think about anything else but the feeling of being tricked by his almost-friend laying heavy in his stomach. 

“Like it? Is this- are you joking? Remus, you made me touch a dead animal! I thought we were starting to be friends, but- oh my God, what is wrong with you?!”

Patton was sure he stopped breathing right after he said that, his voice choking out. In the silence that followed, you could’ve heard a pin drop. 

Remus stood up, and everything about the way he moved showed a woundedness that didn’t suit him. He looked at Patton with an awful intensity, his ruby-red eyes practically glowing. There was nothing vulnerable about him when he was hurt, nothing at all like how Patton would respond to something like an argument. There was only anger and tension.

He didn’t smile, but his voice stayed pitchy. Gleeful. 

“Everything,” Remus hissed, “I thought you’d catch on before now, but.”

Remus spun on his heel, and the floor beneath him bubbled with oil and acid and plague as he sank into the ground and out of the living room. The carpet shriveled, sick-green, in his wake.

That was when the understanding hit him. A lot like a train. 

“Oh, no,” whispered Patton, “Oh, no.”

Patton struggled to his feet, as if on autopilot. Was he going to go after Remus? No, no, that definitely wouldn’t go over well. He was probably halfway into the Imagination by then, anyway, ready to take his anger out on his creations and not do any talking at all. 

Patton tore his eyes away from the spot where Remus had sunk out, stumbling over to the coffee table instead. He crouched, reached his hand under it, and let his fingers touch the fur of his discarded present. He grabbed it, looked down at it. The wave of nausea when he saw the little rat was now less disgust, and much more regret. 

He cradled the preserved creature in his hands with all the gentleness he could. There was a slip of thick, yellowish paper attached to it, that in all the upset had gone completely unnoticed. It was folded in half, tied with twine to the rat’s neck. 

Patton looked into the rat’s shiny, empty eyes for far too long, watching his reflection be distorted by the spheres. He took a shuddering breath, then, and thumbed the edge of the paper, felt its grain, and flipped it open. 

“This is Jenner. You can have him, because even if you’re a priss, if you can handle me you can handle having cool shit like this. Plus, you’re weirdly nice to me, so I guess I don’t mind being nicely weird to you.

-R (the funnier one <3)”

Patton read the note once. Twice. Three, four, maybe six times the words ran over each other in his head.

The paper slipped from his fingers. He held his rat in both hands and stared down its coffee-brown snout. Patton couldn’t help bringing the figurine to his chest and hugging it tightly, like it was the thing he’d hurt so badly, serving as surrogate. Its sharp fingers and tail poked through his shirt like needles, but he ignored it, holding the irrational hope that the inanimate object could forgive him somehow. 

Jenner was creepy, that was probably intentional; his proportions and pose were so uncanny it couldn’t have been an accident. And it was so, so very Remus of a thing that Patton couldn’t stand to hate it. His shift in view was so sudden, and in some sad way he realized that the conflict had been the final piece he’d needed. What let that understanding crash into Patton’s mind, painting the picture of somebody layered.

The picture of Remus, who he was, had finally clicked into place- and at the exact worst time for it to do so.

Patton had fucked up. Massively. 

He didn’t react how he thought he would when he realized it. He didn’t grow weary and exhausted, desperate to apologize and then collapse into unthinking sleep for days. Gone was the emptiness of making promises that he hoped he could hold true on, just wanting to have gotten it right the first time. No, Patton felt something burning under his skin, something itching him to take action because he’d learned from a mistake. He knew exactly what he’d done, and he was ready to do better right damn now. 

Patton breathed in deep and exhaled sharp, because first… 

He sunk out to his room, Jenner tucked into the crook of his elbow. He rose up at his bedside and shoved a handful of knickknacks off the nightstand. With enough space cleared, Patton set his rat down on the table and stood it up on his alarm clock, facing the bed. And then, as just a final touch, he smoothed back the fur of its head and gave it a peck on the forehead.

Now, he had some planning to do. 

Chapter Five

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

[anestheticrage]

Be me: back from the lands of plague and rats. finally home to the capital city of ... plague and rats. everything is clockwork and damn those are some big whales. no time to see the sights, gotta check on my non-wife queen, and my non-daughter daughter. they gucci, chillin in the high tower. #fuckthatpeasantlife Heres a piece of paper babe. it says the plagues are still plagues and the rats are still rats. whats that zippy shadow doin on the roof top. whats that zippy shadow doing standing right next to us. what's that zippy shadow doing with his knife in my girl. oh shit. oh shit. its the fuzz, i swear i didnt do it. it was The Shadow Man with the A E S T H E T I C and the sexy voice. aww shit they takin me in

now were in the dungeons. with the rats. and the plague. and a serious case of UNBRIDLED GODLY RAGE. break down the bars with your bare teeth and indulge in a few dozen counts of lethal self-defense. gotta find non-daughter-chloe-moretz and teach her wrong from right.

but not before the resident time lord comes to give you some sick ink and make you jump around on floating rocks. what an ominous voice. itd be a shame if he sounded like a FUCKING. TEENAGER. IN THE NEXT ONE.

aces, we got some motherfuckin powers. now its time to do the stabby dance. you dance i stab. now were talking. good thing the swords are CLOCKWORK TOO. time for some revenge cause this is a fucking stealth game so WHAT ELSE WOULD BE THE GOD DAMN PLOT. here come the heavy-handed moral decisions, tap x to NOT GIVE A FUCKKKK. electricity is a thing cause of the whales and dont forget THE CLOCKKKWOORRKKK!!! murder has never been this fun and diverse.

'haven't you played deus ex th-'

PPLLLAAAGGUUESSS AND RATTSS

cross a big bridge, break into a whore house, and kidnap leonardo davinchi. now we got the fuzz right where we want em. man what a day. time to knock back a few drinks with the boys. itd really be lovely if they

DIDN'T, FUCKING, POISON ME.

WHY ARE THE FLOATY ROCKS BACK. I SWEAR I ONLY HAD ONE DRINK. NO I AM NOT ENJOYING YOUR CONVOLUTED MORAL QUANDRIES, MR MONOTONE JUDGEY VOID BITCH.

back in action and its time to wade through the sewers and stab aesthetic murder man with a heart of gold. WE'LL EXPLORE HIS MORAL CONUNDRUM IN THE DLCCCCCSSS

thats one more checkmark off my shitlist. and now for traitors. and the traitor traitors. and the rats. and the pl- GOD DAMMIT THEY TOOK CHLOE AGAIN.

at least i still have you Samuel. you'll never leav- samuel no! SAMMY BOY COME BACK IM SORRY. EVERYONE WAS JUST A BASTARD. I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF.

now were alone. just like all the other times. if only i had collected enough magic rocks to summon plagues and rats. TWISTTTT. FEED UPON THE FLESH OF STEAMPUNK CULTISM AND PHILOSOPHIC COMMENTARY. YES MY FURRY MINIONS: CONSUME! (wait does whale oil make steam?? blubberpunk??)

climb the lighthouse and crack open the boys with a cold one in front of your not-really-sorta-maybe-still-cant-tell (???) daughter and hope she doesn't have daddy issues in the next one.

IF I WAS MEANT TO NOT KILL ANYONE THEN WHY DID YOU GIVE ME SUCH COOL WEAPONS. FUCK YOU AND THE HIGH HORSE YOU FLOATED IN ON, YOU BLACK EYED, CROSS ARMED PRICK. YOURE GONNA SOUND LIKE A PREPUBESCENT PENGUIN IN 4 YEARS ANYWAY.

[orange-waterfalls]

It's Not A Joke

Captain Magnum x gender neutral!reader

@sierracolorstheworldofwords ty for the request!

A/N: The ending was a bit rushed because I wanted to get it done before I went to sleep and it is almost midnight,,, so,,, uh Rated T for swearing. Magnum being an oblivious FUCK and reader getting tired of his bullshit. Fluff. Slight angst at some points. This one's a bit short, sorry. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1.9k

--

You stare at Captain Magnum and sigh. He was so wonderful… he was fun, handsome, not to mention tall…

It's really no surprise you have a crush on him.

Every single person on the crew knows of your little crush, and you know that they know. It was obvious! You'd always stutter around him, you blushed whenever he complimented you, and you did everything he asked of you immediately and without question. Everyone knows.

Except, of course, the captain himself.

Everyone was surprised he didn't know, including you. You thought you were being pretty open about it. Granted, you hadn't actually told him yet, but he probably should've figured it out by now. For a pirate captain, he was pretty dumb.

"Really? Again?" Magnum's previous first mate asks. You'd started talking to him after you were made first mate, and you two got along. You both could complain about the captain to each other. You also learned his name was First Mate John. Well… just John now. You'd have to help him come up with a pirate name soon. You were a pretty shy person, but you were less so around John. You felt like you could be comfortable around him.

"Yes, again. What else am I supposed to do?" You scoff.

"I dunno... tell 'im?"

"If he hasn't figured it out by now, I'm not sure I want to," you both laugh.

"Fair enough," he smirks, 'but are ye at least gonna drop some hints or somethin'?" You slowly turn your head towards him.

"What do you think I've been doing the last 3 months?" You joke. He snorts and pats your shoulder.

"Best o' luck t' ye, kid," he chuckles. You give him a small wave goodbye and go back to looking at Magnum. He stands up from his spot on the stair leading to the wheel and starts walking over to you. You go into a mini panic as your heart speeds up and you go back to mopping the floor.

"First Mate Y/N!" He booms. You flinch at the volume.

"H-Hi captain," you stutter, avoiding his gaze, "W-What can I do for you?" He sets a strong hand on your shoulder and you buckle under the strength, your face heating up.

"I was wonderin' if ye would like t' be in charge o' th' next lootin'," he explains, "Ye've been here a while 'n I reckon ye could do it." Your eyes widen and you look up at him. That was apparently a bad idea because you were unable to form actual words after that.

"We, uh… I do.. I mean I'd… um…" you sputter out. He looks at you worriedly.

"Ye alright? Ye look unwell…" he reaches out and feels your forehead. You almost instantly pull away from him. He frowns.

"Ye're burnin' up, mate! Are ye sick?" He gently sets a hand on your head. You duck away, dropping your mop.

"I'm fine!" Your voice cracks, "I'm perfectly okay I just uh… I need to rest a bit is all! Yeah…" you speedwalk to the cabin you share with John and shut the door.

Magnum stands in the middle of the deck, feeling very confused.

"That was strange," he said to himself, "I wonder wha' th' problem be…"

--

About half an hour passed and you were sitting in your bed, your face in your hands. You went over the interaction several times in your head, feeling the same amount of embarrassment and shame each and every time. John walks into your shared room, looking smug.

"I reckon that went well, don't ye?" He teases.

"Shut up…" you groan.

"If he didn' know ye liked 'im afore, he oughta know now."

"And if he doesn't, I'm throwing myself overboard." John laughs and sits on your bed. You peek at him through your fingers.

"Kid, I mean no offense towards th' cap'n, but he's a moron. At least when it comes t' feelin's," you snort in agreement. "Ye needs t' tell 'im directly if ye wants 'im t' know." You remove your hands from your face and sigh.

"Ok… I'll tell him…" you pause. "Later…" John smiles at you.

"There we go," he consoles. He thinks for a moment, wondering what could take your mind off things, before speaking again. "So, the other day, what were you saying about a heist?"

--

That night, you walk out of your cabin, your knees shaking. John had given you another pep talk, along with a couple other crewmates. You felt a little better, but it didn't really help with your anxiety. Your heart is beating so fast you were afraid it would stop. Your palms are oh so very sweaty, and your legs have gone numb at this point. You barely feel them carrying you over to the captain, who was at the wheel. You stand next to him for five minutes, waiting for him to notice you're there. Eventually, he does.

"Ah! First Mate!" He bellowd. You flinch. "Wha' can I do fer ye?" You take a deep breath in.

"I have something to tell you, captain," you say shakily. Neither of you say anything for a while, and you wonder if he heard you.

"Well? Go on then!" He instructs.

"R-Right… ok… um…" you stammer. You keep playing with a button on your shirt, trying to think of what to say. You can feel his eyes on you and it made you even more nervous. Why did you let them talk you into this? You weren't ready! You couldn't do this. You… you…

You look to the side and see John watching you from behind the mast. He gives you a thumbs up. You respond with a smile and he leaves, decided to let you do this on your own. You take a deep breath and…

"I like you, captain," you blurt out. Magnum doesn't respond and you get scared.

"Be that all?" He laughed, "well, I like ye too!" You blink and look up at him. His face didn't seem to change very much. You're about to smile, but pause.

"Captain… I don't think you understand me…"

"O' course I do! I be yer cap'n, ye're part o' me crew, o' course we like each other!" You stare at him.

"That's not what I meant,"

"Oh? 'n wha' did ye mean?"

"I meant…" you pause, wondering if you should just give up. No. You made it this far. Finish it. you command yourself.

"I meant I love you." You say. He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Like… I'm in love with you." You continue, hoping he gets it. He's quiet for a moment before laughing.

"That's real funny, Y/N!" He chortles. You stare at him before letting out a laugh.

"Yeah. Ok. Sure. Yeah, of course. That's fine. I don't even care! That's fucking fantastic!" You grumble. He stops laughing and looks at you.

"That's some language… are ye ok?" He asks. You start walking back to your cabin.

"Yeah, I'm ok! Of course I'm ok! Why wouldn't I be ok?!" You yell and slam your door. Magnum stands there, wondering what just happened.

John opens the door a couple minutes later and walks in.

"Ahoy bud… Ye alright?" He asks gently.

"I don't want to talk about it," you growl.

"Aw, bud…"

"It's not even the fact that he doesn't like me! It's the fact that he laughed! Why would he do that?" You lamented. John set a hand on your shoulder. He's about to say something to try and make you feel better, but he stops.

"Wait… he laughed?" John asks.

"Yeah… why?"

"Would you mind telling him again tomorrow?"

"What? Why the hell would I do that?"

"I want to test something. Please?" He begs. You look at him and sigh.

"Fine… this better be good…"

--

You and the rest of the crew sit and tell stories. Most of the stories are coming from Magnum, but you're not really listening. He notices this and tries to tell more interesting stories, or stories that he thinks you'll find interesting. You still refuse to even look at him, so he lets other people talk.

"Tell him. Right now," John whispers. You sigh and turn to look at Magnum. He leans forward a bit, wanting to hear what you have to say.

"I love you, captain," you say confidently. The whole crew looks at you, and then at Magnum.

"You made that joke last night, Y/N," he laughs.

"It wasn't a joke," you say. His smile falls. The crew decides that it would be a good time to leave, and that's exactly what they do.

"Wha'?"

"It wasn't a joke."

"Wha' do ye mean?"

"I mean I do love you, captain. I'm in love with you. I would like to be in a relationship with you…" your face heats up and you start sweating. God, why were you saying this? Maybe this was the only way he'd understand…

You look up at him and see a confused look on his face. Oh, fuck it… you think.

"I want a relationship with you. I want to hug you and kiss you and hold you close. I want to make you smile and I want to be your shoulder to cry on if you need me to. I want to whisper sweet nothings to you as we fall asleep. I want you to let me love you." You explain, heart racing. Both of you are silent for a minute. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for rejection.

"Oh…" he says, uncharacteristically soft. "I… love ye too…" you look at him. He's looking at you, a slight blush on his face.

"You… you do?" He nods a bit. "Then why in the name of Davy Jones did you think it was a joke?!" You shout.

"I didn' know ye'd like me back! I thought ye liked John!"

"What do you mean you thought I liked John?"

"I mean I thought ye liked John!"

"WHY WOULD YOU THINK I LIKED JOHN?!"

"I DUNNO, YE SEEM COMFORTABLE AROUND 'IM, I THOUGHT THAT MEANT YE LIKED 'IM!"

"Oh my God…" you rub the bridge of your nose. "Why did you think I'm always so nervous around you?"

"I thought... y'know... ye found me intimidatin'..."

"Of course I find you intimidating that doesn't mean I don't like you."

"Oh…" He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Uh... Sorry I was so ignorant t' yer... Affection…" you chuckle at the apology.

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner," you both sat there, just looking at each other.

"So uh… should we… should we kiss?" He asks nervously.

"Only if you want to. We don't ha-" you're cut off by his lips settling onto yours. You put your hands on his shoulders to keep you upright. He puts his hands on your neck, tilting your head to where he's comfortable.

"Awww!" Multiple voices say from behind you.

"Get a room!" John calls out. You pull away and bury your head in Magnum's shoulder, your face burning.

"Oi! If ye all aren't swabbin' th' deck in th' next five seconds, ye're walkin' th' plank!" He commands. The crew all scramble to get to work. You sigh and pull back to look at him.

"I'm… gonna go help them…" you murmur with a blush. He sighs.

"Ah, okay... We'll... Continue later," he states. You smile and walk away, grabbing your mop. As you mop, you glance at Magnum, seeing him watch you with a lovesick grin on his face. John, also holding a mop, slides up next to you.

"So, when's th' weddin'?"

"Shut up, you fuck!"

the ending is so obviously rushed I'm sorry lol

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.5

why is it almost 9 and im tired already smh

anyway, i almost titled this part 5 because i dont know what numbers are

update im a dumbass bc this was, indeed, part 5

warnings: uhhh sick moments. hospitals. guilt. squip aftermath. mentions of nightmares. 

       You woke up days later in the hospital.

       The first thing that happened was a blur of motions: you trying to rip out your IV as you panicked, and a nurse who just opened the door grabbed you by the wrist to stop you before you did any true damage. Then came a thousand questions from a thousand people, all trying to pinpoint the when and why and how and what happened that you could barely remember at that moment. When your breathing picked up and panic set in, the room was cleared save for a single person taking vitals. When he left, you were alone. The room felt cold. The room was silent-

       Wait.

       The room was silent.

       Oh, god, the room was silent.

       It was gone. Your thoughts were your own again, yet it still felt as if a piece of you had been snapped off. Broken off. Crumbled away over time, yet - yet... how long had you been out? Hours? A day? You couldn’t completely recall. You remembered someone asking you the date, the time, the anything, but... it slipped your mind far too quickly as a thousand other questions followed suit. You squinted at the whiteboard on the wall across from you, stamped into the corner, and red dry-erase marker spelling out the date.

       Barely two days. That was good. You were... you were fine. You were okay. This was okay. Two days was okay. Two days was much less than what Rich dealt with-

       Oh. Fuck, Rich - had he woken up? He must still be in the hospital - was - were you in the same one? Fuck, you felt foggier than ever. Like the pieces wouldn’t connect, yet lined up perfectly. Every little bit of pressure merely popped the piece apart again, and it left nothing but frustration to fill the space between. You’d have to see him as soon as you could.

       The first person who came to see you (not quite counting your parents) was Christine Canigula with a pretty bouquet of sunflowers in her arms. Her purse bounced against her hip with every step around the room (mainly due to her trying to find a nice place to set the flowers down), and she finally gently sat at the end of your bed and talked to you happily about everything that had gone on within the past few days. She opened her bag, fishing out a small little bag of assorted goodies that she placed in your hands.

       “I thought you could use something nice,” she smiled, “I hope you get out of here soon.” When you couldn’t muster up anything past a weak smile, she continued, “Rich actually asked about you, when I saw him earlier.” 

       You looked up. “He did?” You asked, voice quiet and broken.

       “Yeah!” She chirped, “he woke up the other day, actually,” she drummed her fingers against her leg, “

       The second was Michael. Michael, who had a ball of emotions choking him as he searched for the right thing to say to you. Worried and angry and upset and... relieved. All of it evaporated as you told him everything. Every detail, every action explained - and he realized what lied beyond the glimpse you’d given him while you looked as if you were trying to escape his house. He sat on the edge of your bed in stunned silence, just staring at the floor as you felt guilt creep into your stomach. 

       “Michael?” You finally said, voice quiet. “I’m... I’m sorry.” You paused, “for everything. You - you don’t have to forgive me, but...”

       “You used me.” He said. You could hear the underlying anger dripping from those three words alone. 

       “I know.” You swallowed your emotions. “I’m... I know it was awful and I should have fought more to not do that, but...” 

       He finally looked back at you. “So,uh... how much of that was real, then?” 

       You opened your mouth to answer, only to stop for a moment, looking away. “I... I don’t really know,” you said, voice cracking and giving you away entirely. “Shit.” 

       “I mean-” He said, “you were - it was weird, [y/n]. One minute you’d be one way, and then... you were, y’know, you. It was like things never changed.” 

       That hit you hard. “Michael?” You choked out his name, before continuing, “please don’t tell Jeremy.”

       “What?” He stared at you, “[y/n], he deserves to know-”

       “No! I mean - he does,” you clarified, “I just - I need to tell him this myself.” 

       He bit his tongue for a moment. “I, uh, I think I’m gonna have to tell him some things before he loses his shit, [y/n]. He was fuckin’ freaked when the ambulance drove off.” 

       After a moment of stunned quiet, you mustered up a quick nod. “Right. Just - don’t tell him everything, alright?”

       The conversation had died there. After a few more minutes of silence, Michael stood and made his way to leave - rattling off the usual “get well soon” message that you expected.

       “Michael?” You called out, and he stopped. “Thank you for coming to see me. I... I appreciate it.” 

       His smile had faded, and he nodded a little. “Yeah...” He looked back at you, and he looked so soft and genuine that time. “Later, [y/n].”

       The next day, Jeremy was shoved into your room without much of a chance to gather his bearings. True to his word, Michael had explained a few things while leaving Jeremy pretty in the dark on what had happened. The hardest thing was looking at Jeremy and telling him the rest of your story. That you had wasted six hundred dollars on a stupid, shitty pill that you thought would help you. A pill that you thought would help you essentially get Jeremy to reciprocate the feelings that you bit back and hid underneath everything. You lied through your teeth that you had just wanted him and Michael back. You couldn’t just... admit that you had a crush on him, could you?

       He reached out and laid a hand on your own. “Michael told me.” 

       Shit. Fuck. Nope. You nearly hit the button for a nurse in that moment to try and see if you could get him out. What the fuck, Michael? “He told you...?”

       “Look,” he said, “I’m flattered, [y/n], I just... I like someone else. I mean, you’re - you’re cool and all, but-” 

       “I get it, Jeremy.” You said. “I... I understand.” You paused for a moment, “but... I did miss you and Michael, y’know.”

       “Why’d we stop hanging out?” Jeremy asked.

       Something inside of you hurt at that question. “I don’t know.” And that was true, to say the least. You had your suspicions, sure, but at the end of the day, the why rested without an answer. 

       He stared at you. “Wait...” He trailed off, before looking away. “Oh.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “shit.” He looked back at you, “hey, uh, I’m - I’m sorry for dropping you like that- I just-” 

       “I get it.” Which was sort-of the truth, at least. “You don’t have to apologize, Jeremy.”

       “... Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you in school,” he stood, “feel better soon-” 

       And then he was gone.

       Three months later, and you were still haunted by a voice in your head every so often. You started therapy shortly after you were released from the hospital, the mystery of what happened to you remaining as such. You started medication soon after, your depression having grown worse post-SQUIP (and your father had been glad for you getting help, since he’d admitted it hurt him to watch you suffer for so long while being unsure of what to actually do to help you). You attended group therapy outside of Metuchen.

       You had Rich. Rich, who picked you up on Thursday nights to drive you to group and back again. Rich, who knew how you felt and hid his guilt for pulling you into this shitty world of trauma and pain that’d haunt you for who knows how long. Rich, who slung his arm around your waist casually when the two of you were hanging out and was touchy with you in a way that made you feel safe and secure. You had Rich at your side, the friend that you honestly had never expected to have but were glad for at the end of the day. While you wished he didn’t feel the pain that you did, it was almost... nice to know that someone else understood.

       At two in the morning, one mid-February day, he called you.

       “Another nightmare?”

       “Yeah... you?”

       “Yeah.” A pause. “You wanna talk about it?”

       “Yep,” he dragged the word out. “Uh - do you...?”

       “You go first, Rich.”

      His phone must have been on speaker, because you heard the sound of him shifting in bed - blanket swooshing as he probably turned over onto his side. “Same old shit.” He began, “I, uh, was in Jake’s house, and... it was on fire. My, uh... It was there.” He paused for a moment, “y’know. Saying the same shit.” You didn’t have to see Rich to know he was touching his neck, fingers running along the scars there. “What about you?”

      Your phone was lying beside your head. Shutting your eyes, you took a breath before exhaling slowly. “It was, uh, actually... good for once. I mean - it started good. I was... I was with Jeremy. I... think we were dating? I don’t know - we were holding hands and I had let go and walked ahead only to notice he was standing still, and - it... it’s weird, Rich, but - I swear there was some kind of stupid circuit pattern that, like, trailed down his neck - and... and his smile, Rich-” You paused, taking a shaky breath, “and then I heard it.” Another long pause. “Then I woke up.”

      You heard Rich suck in a breath. For the longest time, there was silence on the other end. Despite not hearing any chimes to indicate it, you thought that maybe he had hung up. But then he spoke, voice quiet and broken, “why did you say yes?”

      “What?”

      “To - to buying it, [y/n].”

      You stared up at your ceiling. Soon enough, you kicked off your blankets as you grew too hot for comfort, shifting against to try and find some sort of comfortable position. “You sold it pretty well, I guess.” You started, before biting your lip for a moment, “I thought it could help me.”

      “... With?”

      You changed the topic. “Why’d you take it?”

      No response.

      “Rich?”

      “Gretch is gonna fucking suck tomorrow.” 

      “... Yeah.”

      “You wanna skip?”

      No, you wanted to say. But you shrugged. “Yeah. Where are we doing?”

      “Fuck, I don’t know - Wawa?”

      “Sure.”

      Rich’s truck was like a second home to you, between the times the two of you skipped classes and every drive to and from therapy. The two of you skipped class too often - sometimes morning classes, sometimes afternoon, it always depended on how the two of you were doing. Sometimes you’d sit in the Wawa parking lot, eating breakfast or lunch, enjoying the rebellious freedom that came with skipping class. The guilt would stay in the backseat, a constant reminder of your fuck-ups, but... you were glad to have a moment to breathe.

      Rich’s hand found yours that morning. He squeezed it. For a minute, there were just two broken teens sitting together, holding hands, trying to feel less broken together. 

         Over a week later, you texted Rich after hearing it - or, at least, you thought you did. He told you to call Michael - closer to you, and carrier of the Mountain Dew Red at you and Rich’s mutual request. Your finger lingered over Michael’s contact information when a thought struck you, hard and heavy. Why call him? Why not let it come back and fix what it had done? You felt broken enough - how much more damage could it do to you? Besides... now you knew how to take care of it. Maybe that knowledge would be enough to help you gain some sort of control over it.

        An hour later, Rich texted you saying Michael hadn’t heard from you. Another hour passed. He told you he was coming over. You couldn’t respond, staring at your phone blankly as tears began to well up. Thirty minutes later, rocks hit your window. Five minutes later, Rich was sitting on the end of your bed as you curled back up, the bottle sitting on the bed between the two of you. He looked tired, running a hand nervously through his hair as he didn’t meet your eyes.

        “I know.” He said, breaking the silence. “Just - don’t fucking do it, okay?”

        You broke your gaze away from the bottle. “What?”

        “I... I’ve thought about it too,” he said, quieter this time. “But... I think...” He paused, “it’s just a bad idea, alright?”

        “It can’t-”

        “It can.” He stressed, before grabbing the bottle with one hand and your hand in the other. He pressed the bottle into your hand, curling your fingers around it in a cliche action. “Just - fucking drink it, [y/n]. I’m tired.”

        “You can stay here tonight.”

        “Nah,” he stood. “I... need to get home soon. Just... drink it, alright?”

        He didn’t leave you until you finally obliged.

        The chill in the air that came with early March was no match for the chill you felt whenever you were around Michael. But Michael had the soda, and Rich lived farther away from you, so he became your lifeline whenever you felt the prickly feeling that came with every nightmare of it and he, thankfully without much complaint, would show up on your front lawn. You sat next to him in silence, an half-empty bottle of Mountain Dew Red sitting in your lap as Michael quietly looked up at the stars. The feeling in your stomach almost seemed to weigh you down, keeping you in place until Michael decided he’d had enough, until he gave up on sitting with you.

        But he didn’t. He just sat there in silence, wearing his signature red hoodie in an attempt to keep himself warm. His breath colored the air with a puff of white as he exhaled. It was too cold for this shit, and yet... he sat with you. 

        “What was it like?” He began at one point, slowly looking over to you. “Y’know... the...” He paused, before tapping his temple, as if you hadn’t understood before. But you understood the why there. 

        “Like I was a puppet,” you said, echoing back something you’d said before in therapy. Almost completely subconsciously, you tugged at your sleeve. “I... I could disobey, but... it would get mad, and - and I didn’t like that, so I just... I did what it told me to. Sometimes, it would...” The ghost of a shock silenced you, and your breath hitched for a second as you try to regain some control over yourself.

        When Michael’s hand landed on your forearm, you flinched immediately. But before he could fully tear his hand away from you (having only just pulled it away slightly), you immediately shifted closer to him. Almost as if he understood, he opened himself to you, and - after hesitating for too many moments - you nearly collapsed into his arms, wrapping your own around his torso and burying your face in his neck. At first you had just wanted the comfort. The warmth of another person. But your breath went shaky, and before Michael could say or do anything else, he heard you choke back a sob before you clutched at the fabric of his hoodie. Every soft, broken apology sent pain rippling through him. He’d been so pissed with you before, and now...

       Now it was as if Michael was a child again, having seen the aftermath of hurricanes through Florida on the news. Or like the car accident he once witnessed, only staring before one of his moms tore him away from the sight, picking him up with ease and keeping his face turned away. He understood, all within that moment. He knew you were hurting, and in turn, he felt that pain too. He had hurt. He was in so much damn pain when he found out you’d originally just been using him, and now... he understood that maybe (or, perhaps, definitely, but a definite wasn’t quite there yet in his book) nothing had been your idea. Part of him wanted to look away from you, to give you some kind of privacy, and yet... you clung to him. You kept your face buried in his neck, hot tears wetting his skin, and you shook in his arms as you kept stammering out apology after apology for things that did and didn’t involve him. 

       That was when Michael decided that forgiveness was back on the table. Neither of you were ready to have that talk, but... the fact of the matter was that he let that option exist again. Every glimpse of you that had come flooding back to him when he visited you in the hospital seemed to haunt his memory once more. The real you. The you he hadn’t seen in so long. And, if he were honest, the you that he genuinely had begun to miss when your presence disappeared all that time ago.

       He was ready to try again, if you were there to meet him halfway.

       The following Wednesday came with a disgusting feeling of dread the moment that thunder clapped during your last class. You’d left your umbrella at home - clear skies, your weather app had lied - and chances were you were going to miss your bus when meeting with the guidance counselor quickly after school (because, of course, shit never worked out in your favor). So you clenched your jaw and pulled your bag close to you, taking off as the rain pounded against the pavement. You almost slipped, you could barely see through the rain, and you were already soaked to the bone by the time you were a fourth of the way home. When you heard a car coming down the street, you thought nothing of it until it slowed down, pulling over towards the side of the road and steadily crawling alongside you.

       Well, fuck, if you were about to die, at least you wouldn’t deal with-

       The car honked. When you turned, you immediately recognized the P.T. Cruiser and the two boys inside of it. Immediately, the passenger side window rolled down. “Get in, loser, we’re going shopping-” 

       “Michael-” You started to say, only to stop as you weigh your options. Get in the car and face Michael and Jeremy - or keep waking home in the rain. You barely even considered the latter as you pulled open the back door, throwing your bag in and immediately slipping into the warm car.

       The backseat was comfortable. It had always been comfortable, actually - that much was certain. Even when you were shivering endlessly, sopping-wet backpack lying in the floorboard between your legs as you rub your arms in some attempt to get warm, you felt strangely at home sitting in the back of Michael’s car. The sticker was still on the head-rest of the driver’s side. Jeremy kept looking back at you every so often as Michael made his way towards your house. The moment he turned onto your street, you went for your keys.

       And, of fucking course, you must have forgotten them that morning. So you ended up in Michael’s house, sitting on his bed in some of his spare clothes while your clothes are being oh-so-lovingly laundered by the ever-so-gracious Michael Mell. You toyed with the fabric of tee-shirt you were wearing, some indie band logo printed across the chest - something that felt so Michael, when you thought about it. Of course he’d have some obscure merch. You sat there with one of your class binders in your lap, working on homework when you finally get to geometry. As if to make the day even worse, you realized you were missing your calculator.

       “Shit,” you said, “fuck-” You looked up to Michael and Jeremy, “can I, uh, borrow a calculator? I think I left mine at school-”

       Jeremy stared at you for a split second before immediately going for his own bag. He stammered through a sentence, before he finally pulled out a familiar purple case and held it out to you. “I, uh, was going to give it to you tomorrow - I meant to give it back earlier but I, uh, forgot-”

       You took it gingerly from him, before kind-of smiling in return. “It’s fine,” you said, “thank you-” and then you cut yourself off with a sneeze, your arm flying to cover your mouth. 

       Michael chuckled a little as he laid back, stretching himself along the foot of his bed. “If you needed a ride, you should have just asked, ya goof,” he smiled at you.

       You nudged him with your foot. “Come on, Mell,” you said, “I thought I’d be fine.”

       “You’re lucky Jeremy saw you, y’know,” he said, “I didn’t notice you crossing the street earlier, so...”

       Jeremy flushed at the comment. Your gaze flickered from him back to Michael, “I thought you were driving, Michael.”

       “I was!” 

       “Aren’t you supposed to pay attention?”

       “I was!” He said again, sitting up, “you weren’t even crossing in front of me!” 

       “Thank god for that,” you said.

       “Wh- I wouldn’t hit you!”

       “That’s what they all say, Michael.” You smiled a little, “no, dude, I totally wouldn’t kill my wife, who would do that? Not me. I wouldn’t kill my wife-”

       “[y/n]!” Michael poked you in the leg, “come on - I don’t think I’d be that obvious-”

       “Are you seriously trying to say you’d be able to get away with that?” You said, only to notice how silent Jeremy had gone. When you looked back to him, you noticed that he had just sat there, watching you and Michael playfully bicker over his totally not real plans to murder someone. When your eyes meet his, he blinked, awkwardly smiling as he looked away and towards his phone. You barely get a glimpse of the time before you realized that your parents should be home.

       So Michael drove you (and Jeremy) home at long last, leaving you to thank him a thousand times on the way there and as you got out of the car. You barely had time to wave back at him before you crossed your front lawn to get to shelter, rain pelting you the entire time as you head inside with plans to tackle your homework.

       The next morning, you felt like shit. At three in the morning, you woke up with the grossest feeling taking hold of you and forcing you out of bed and to the bathroom. With a disgusting taste left in your mouth, you sank back, your senses completely muffled as you realized what had happened. Fever. Fuck. You pressed your back against the rim of the bathtub, and you breathed. Shit. Shit shit shit shit- you didn’t need to get sick. You skipped enough class as it was - this was only going to make shit worse.

       You didn’t realize you passed out shortly after until your dad stumbled across you. He woke you up gently, before helping you to your feet and helping your sluggish form back to your bedroom after pressing a cold hand against your forehead. Shaking his head, he walked you to your bed, leaving the room and returning with a cup of water to leave on your nightstand. He told you that he would be at work, but that your mom would drop by during her lunch break to check on you and hopefully bring some medicine. You barely processed it before you fell back asleep.

      The next time you woke up was around lunchtime. You still felt hazy and hot with fever, but the sound of your phone going off was enough to capture your attention. Michael. He had asked where you were, and you barely have enough energy to type out what you thought was just a simple “fever” - thankfully, auto-correct caught you - before you turned back over with the intent of going back to sleep. Barely ten minutes pass before your mom came in with a plastic bag in her hands, rattling off the contents of it before she felt your forehead. She told you to get some more rest. You happily obliged. 

      The next day, after a night of bland soup and forcing down your meds with ice cold water, you see a newly formed group chat with you, Michael, and Jeremy, poised proudly at the top of your messages. 

Michael: u guys need anything or

      You stared at the message. You guys? You barely have time to try and question it further when a text bubble popped up.

Jeremy: i’m good

You: what

You: you ok, jer?

Jeremy: no im sick

You: what

You: how???

Jeremy: you

Michael: jeremys being a little bitch

Michael: hes always like this when he’s sick

Michael: you need anything, [y/n]??

You: idk some good soup would be rad

You: my dad brought some gross shit last night and it sucked

You: parents got medicine. 

You: send me love.

You: and tissues

Jeremy: please let me sleep

You: sorry jer

Michael: kk

      Later that afternoon, the doorbell rang. You forced yourself out of bed, managing to get the front door open only to see a little plastic bag sitting right outside of it. You looked up to see Michael standing outside of his car, and you could only assume that he rushed back to his car to avoid exposure. He waved at you, only budging from his spot when you wave back at him. 

      Bless Michael Mell and the soup he brought you. You’d have to thank his mom. Or maybe both of them - they were both goddesses in your eyes. You only knew that Michael couldn’t cook for shit. 

      At midnight, you woke up again, a dull hunger restless in your stomach. You had left some soup for later, and you were fully ready to heat the rest of it up and devour it. You shoved the Tupperware bowl into the microwave, punching in a number before you swayed into the counter, leaning against it to keep yourself standing as the microwave buzzed. Strangely enough... it almost felt internal after a minute.

      Then you heard it. Your own name being cooed in a voice that sent shivers and a ghost of a shock through you. Glitching in and out. You panicked. You bolted, dashing to your room to find your phone. Your hands were shaking as you went to unlock it, fucking it up the first two times before finally getting it the last. You didn’t think. You went for the first number you saw. 

       The moment someone picked up,  you spoke. “Michael,” you said, voice caught in your throat, “shit - dude- it’s - it’s back-” You took a breath, trying to calm yourself before continuing, “just - I need the Mountain Dew Red. Please-”

      You heard a distant, groggy “...what?” on the other hand as a hand fell over your own, causing you to slowly lower the phone as it appeared before you.

      It stood tall as ever, eyes gentle, manipulating your senses as you swore you felt warmth from it’s hand over your’s. “We can fix this.” It said, voice quiet. Soft. Gentle. “We can start over and make everything right.” 

      “I...” You whimpered, attempting to take a step back. Instinctively, you dropped your phone and shut your eyes and covered your ears in an attempt to drown everything out. “No.” The word spilled past your lips once, twice, too many times as tears rolled down your cheeks.

      Fingers grazed your cheek almost lovingly. “Just let me fix this, [y/n].” It said softly, almost kind, and you felt your stomach drop. “You can reboot me - just - another dose of regular Mountain Dew-”

      “No,” you shook your head, “I’m - you’d-”       

      “I’ll fix this. I promise-”

      The sound of frantic knocking at your front door was enough to force you to your feet as you rushed to answer before anyone else could wake up. “Michael-”

      Jeremy stood there, soaking wet and panting like crazy as he clutched a bottle of salvation within his right hand. He straightened up a bit, holding it out to you. “Sorry - Michael, uh, gave me a few bottles as back-up so I ran-” He said. 

      He shut up the moment you flung your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, completely ignoring the soda he carried in favor of comfort. Just for a second. That’s all you had needed. He stiffened up underneath you as you clung to him, only for you to pull away almost immediately after.

      After you took the bottle and unscrewed the cap, downing the drink with nothing with a minor headache following in it’s wake, Jeremy could only stare at you. “You... You really heard it, huh?”

      You winced, breath hitching as you swayed slightly. Jeremy’s hands found your shoulders, steadying you as you looked back up at him. “I-” You started, only to stop immediately, “thank you- I’m- I’m sorry you had to run here.” You paused, “I... didn’t know it was raining, or I wouldn’t have-”

      “It’s fine,” he said, letting go of you as he took a small step back. “I’m - I’m gonna head back home-”

      Thunder clapped. Lightning flashed in the distance. You reached out and caught him by the wrist, “stay here.” You said, “it’s - it’s late, and... and I don’t want you walking home in the rain.”

      He almost debated with you, but another growl of thunder was enough to debunk whatever argument he was formulating as he followed you inside. You locked your front door back, retreated back to your room to find some clean clothes that would hopefully fit him (thank fuck for all your baggy shit, still hidden away in your closet), and handed him a towel. The microwave chirped for what you could assume was the thousandth time, and you rushed to stop it - only to have to punch in more time. You could hear the shower running from the room over. The hum of the microwave, the smell of spices tinting the air... and you felt alive. You were there. Breathing. Heart pumping. Mind... going, at least - even if there were moments of betrayal there. You were still there, and it was strange to think about that sometimes.

      The water shut off abruptly, and you pulled yourself from your thoughts as you stopped the microwave just a second before it was meant to go off. As you seated yourself at the kitchen table, Jeremy emerged and made his way over to you. He pulled out the chair nearest to you, and slowly sank into it.

      “You feeling better?” You asked, looking up at him.       

      “I, uh, I should be asking you that.” 

      “You were sick too, Jeremy,” you said, “why’d you run here?”

      “You sounded scared,” he shrugged, “besides - I’m better-” Immediately he was cut off by a cacophony of coughs, as he turned away from you. “I’m fine. What about-” He finally looked back at you, still embarrassed of the shades of red he’d turned, “what about you?”

      You suppressed a smile. “I’m... decent.” You shrugged, “I’ve... never really seen it before tonight.” 

      “You haven’t?”

      “Nope.” You paused, “I dunno. Maybe being sick like... weakened me or something.” After another pause, you noticed Jeremy shiver. “You can take my room, Jer. It’s warmer - I’ll just - I’ll take the couch-”

     “It’s fine, [y/n] - I’ll just - I’ll sleep on the floor-”

     “You are not sleeping on the floor, Jeremiah,” you feigned offense, “you are a guest! You’ll take my room and I’ll sleep on the floor-”

     “You’re still sick too, y’know,” he retorted, “just - I’ll take one side of the bed if you want-”

     “Fine.” You frowned as you stood, “if you insist.” 

     After leaving the bowl in the sink, filled with water in the classic “it has to soak” manner, you lead Jeremy to your bedroom. You snagged your phone from the floor, plugging it back into charge as you took one side of your bed - making sure to stay as close to the edge as possible while Jeremy took the other. The room was almost silent, the sound of Jeremy breathing quiet enough to merely tint the air.

     Right as you started to fall asleep, you turned onto your back. “Jeremy?” You said, stifled by a yawn. When he hummed in acknowledgement, you continued, “thanks for coming here.”

     You barely caught his soft, almost hesitant “yeah, uh, no problem” as you fell asleep.

[songficsbyrissi]

Nip Tuck (Erik Killmonger x Reader)

Warning: angst, swearing, *flashbacks included in italics* “Hmm, See I used to curve niggas like you Skrr, skrr, swerve niggas like you Even though I heard what you might do I didn't get concerned 'cause I liked you” - Nicki Minaj

******************************** I gave you everything, everything, everything, everything, everything. I gave you everything. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That’s what the fuck you are. Fucking stupid. This is the 3rd day in a row you found your stupid ass crying over the same bitch ass nigga you let yourself get caught up with. You used to scold your friends and gave your usual “I told you so” whenever they got played like a violin. You weren’t scarred or anything but you never got past the talking stage with niggas because you’d detect bullshit before it even got to that point. You used to have your damn guard up when it came to these niggas, being mean as hell to scare them away because like Drake said, “Nice for what?” Your meanness somehow made this specific nigga like you even more.

When you first came across his ass in the club, he flashed his cute smile revealing his grills and immediately you fucking knew this sexy, black, dreadheaded man was sent to ruin your damn life. He wouldn’t go away no matter how stank you acted so you took that as a sign that maybe God finally sent you the man that was meant for you. So you let that guard down and let him take you out for one date. One date turned into multiple dates and eventually a relationship. You were head over heels for the first time. Your girls clowned you like you did them. First red flag popped up when some random girl at the supermarket stared at you intensely while you were on the phone with him. You finished the call and turned to her. “Can I help you?” With attitude evident in your voice. She replied chuckling. “So you’re Erik’s new girl, I see.” She looked you up and down and scoffed. “Just another one about to get her feelings hurt.” You raised an eyebrow tilting your head in confusion. “Mhm no. You’re confused with another Erik or something.” You turned on your heel to walk when the girl spoke up again. “I’m not confused. Erik Stevens is gonna do you just like he did me, just like he did my girl, and just like the others. You’re just a number on his list and it ain’t number #1, sweetheart” “FUCK! I SHOULD’VE LISTENED TO THAT BITCH!” You screamed in your dim apartment slamming your fists by your side and rested by your face in your hands. She wasn’t the only bitch that told you about Erik “Killmonger” Stevens. Everyone had their take on him saying he’d play Romeo until he got you sprung then start fucking around on you and come running back to you expecting open arms and open legs as long as he promised not to do it again. “Erik?” You creeped out of the bedroom rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It was damn near 4:30 in the morning and this nigga was still out. You heard your front door open and knew it had to be him. If it was a murderer, you were hoping he’d stick around and kill Erik first. This nigga was pissing you the fuck off with this “coming home” late shit. You two didn’t really live together but practically did because you stayed at his place a lot. You heard a female giggling and Erik shushing her while some things were being moved around. Oh shit. You’re going to have to be the murderer. “What the fuck is going on here?!” You screeched seeing some random girl tucked under his arm as Erik slouched drunkenly. He looked up at you and flashed his grills. “What’s up, baby?” He gestured towards the girl. “This my friend, Linda.” “Hi!” The lightskin girl with wavy hair giggled then hiccuped. “I was just making sure Erik got here safe. He had a lot to drink.” You raised your eyebrow staring this girl up and down. She was clearly intoxicated too. You were not buying what they were selling. She got close to your boyfriend and you were ready to snap her neck. “You were right. She’s pretty as fuck. I’m so down for a threesome.” “EXCUSE ME?!” You charged towards her and suddenly Erik sobered up a little bit pushing the girl behind him and holding you back. “Yo chill, baby. Linda is just joking. She knows I only want you.” Your nostrils flared as you felt blood boiling even more. You looked behind him to see her rolling her eyes and giggling as if what he said was bullshit. You snapped. “BITCH WHAT THE FUCK IS SO FUCKING FUNNY?!” You jumped over Erik to get at her. He carried you away on his shoulder as the little hoe made her escape out of the door. “ERIK, PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN!” You slammed your fists against his broad back but they barely had an effect on him. “LET ME GO! I HATE YOU!” Erik finally dropped you on your feet and you pushed him away, panting. “HOW DARE YOU FUCKING BRING THAT HOE HERE TRYING TO FUCK?! IM SO SICK AND TIRED OF YOUR ASS!” You turned your back on him rushing to the bedroom to grab your shit. You were beyond furious at the audacity of this nigga. You felt Erik grab your hands and you pushed him off. “Don’t touch me!” “Baby, you need to calm down. Ain’t nobody was trying to fuck. She told you the deal. A nigga drank too much and needed to get home safely. She was looking out for me, you should be thanking her.” You took the ceramic mug you had tea in and threw it at his head. Unfortunately, he ducked in time causing the object to break on the wall. He glanced at the tea leaking on the wall and back at you with an confused and angry expression. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” You stuck your finger in his face. “Don’t fucking tell me what I should be doing! I’m doing that which is staying home waiting for you and being faithful!” You emphasized the last word. “You are the one who wants to go out every other damn night and have the audacity to bring one of the little hoes back here! You know people keep telling me about your ass! I’m done with this shit!” Erik sucked his teeth coming up to you. “So you listening to these other people about me? You know me, baby! Stop listening to what these people say! They do not want to see us be great! Come on, you know I wouldn’t do you like that!” You turned to him unable to hold back your tears. “Her lipstick is on your neck, Erik. This isn’t the first time you came up in here with another woman’s makeup on you and it won’t be the last. I’m tired of you hurting me. All these damn girls in your phone. I can’t do this anymore.” Erik sighed placing his hands on your hips forcing you to face him. “I’m not paying attention to any of those girls. I’m only focused on you. I love you. Linda got a little too close but we didn’t do anything. All my cheating is in the past. I’ve been done with that.” Your dumb ass melted at his false words. “Ok. Then I’ll stay. But promise me you ain’t gonna keep doing this, Erik. I love you.” Erik kissed your lips softly. “I love you too. You have my word, baby girl. I ain’t never gonna do you dirty.” Your stupid ass believed him every fucking time. Every time he pulled a stunt like that, you fought with him but eventually believed him. But not this time. You were done letting this nigga have this control on you. What sent you over the edge once again was photos on Instagram with him practically engaging in a public threesome. You stood up and winced at the pathetic bitch he created in the mirror. This isn’t you and you’re gonna remind that fool who the fuck You are. You pulled out a sexy red spaghetti strap midi dress AKA “Freakum dress” and quickly slipped it on. You found your black heels with the zipper in the back in your closet and put them on quickly. You let your natural curls out and fluffed them out. Afterwards, you donned on gold jewelry and beat your face to the Gods. Not the sky. TO THE GODS, BITCH. You take one last look at the bad bitch that was present in the mirror and smirked. Your Uber pulled up in 5 minutes and brought you to the club. You got in quick and through the crowds, you narrowed your eyes to find that disrespectful ass nigga taking turns sucking face with the two sluts on either side of him. You feel yourself tear up but you suck that sad shit up. You were over it. You came back to take what’s yours. “I guess this is how niggas act when they got a good ass woman at home.” You sneered standing right in front of Erik. His eyes widened in shock and pushed his hoes to the side coughing up his liquor. He looked sexy as fuck just like the day y’all met, you’re not gonna lie but it faded quickly once you remembered how much of a bitch he was. “Y/N, baby-“ You cut him off by grabbing his wrist and leading him outside of the club. You pressed him against the wall caressing his face and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. You cracked a sly smile. “It’s ok. You ain’t the first nigga to sleep on a queen and you won’t be the last.” Once you said that, you snatched the gold chain you bought him from his neck. “Yo Y/N! What the fuck?! Why you taking my shit?!” He growled pushing you off and grasping at his neck. He stared at you with a heated gaze but you kept a calm composure slipping your Rolex off his wrist. “Is it because of those hoes? I’m just getting that shit out of my system, baby! I thought you knew this!” He pleaded and growled some more when you didn’t reply. “Why the fuck you acting different?! “I gave you fucking everything. Everything.” You spoke as Erik stood up looking from side sucking his teeth. “All I wanted in return was your love and loyalty but you couldn’t give me that, Erik.” You paused. “So I’m taking all the shit I gave you back. My heart, my loyalty, my support, my bomb ass pussy, and my damn sense because the fact I let you play me for this long, I know that shit was gone.” Erik huffed stuffing his hands in his pants with a dismal look in his eyes. “Baby girl, I deadass love you.” You snorted and he continued taking your hands. “You gotta believe that!” You hummed and chuckled darkly. “I believe....” You snatched the keys to the new Mercedes you bought him a while ago from his belt loop. “You’re gonna need to call an Uber home.” Ooh’s and “oh shit” was heard from the crowd outside and Erik turned to them salty as shit as you turned on your heel to walk away. “Mind y’all fucking business before I kill y’all asses!” He snapped then turned back into your direction. His eyes fell on your nicely shaped ass as you walked away but snapped out of it when you turned around. “In case it wasn’t clear, We. Are. Done. Don’t call me because I’m not picking up. Don’t text me because I’m not going to respond. But don’t worry. We’re cool. You’re never gonna hear from me or see me again, but we cool.” You continued on your journey to find the Mercedes and ignoring Erik’s yells for you. As you got into the charcoal coated Mercedes and gazed at your side mirror reflection, you let out a sexy smirk and pulled off. You felt a surge of pride and freedom. You knew you would come across Erik again but when you do, you’re not gonna get pissed or depressed. You’re gonna be ok. Cause a true bad bitch ain't weak or bitter.

Tags:  Tags: @lifelover4u @dessianna1 @brattywriters-anonymous @marvelpotterlove @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @ljstraightchaser @slimmiyagi @cancerianprincess @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @vibranium-chakra @nerd-lovely @chaneajoyyy @ohliyaxoxo @chefjessypooh @yourfavoritefavorite @airis-paris14 @ljstraightnochaser @quietstorm-73 @msincognito67 @sociallyawkward18 @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @marvelpotterlove  

Once again, I think i got everyone and I apologize if i missed anyone. some of y’all i couldn’t tag so please fix your settings!

[rogue-barnes-16]

THAT PUNK (part IV/?)

Summary: Some people don’t distinguish between hate and love. Some people do, but fail to express it.

Pairing: 40's!Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags: @jcalpha1 @lilypalmer1987 @sadanddeadsoul @im-so-fxcking-ace @m-a-t-91 @helddowninthisstarlesscity @littleravenwrites @swtmckngbrd @gwennyy @swissairforce-member @stealingheartsswift13 @slender--spirit @thisismyfriend-tree @lolabean1998 @crazybutconfidentaf

Warnings: drinking

A/N: the tags in bold didn't work, sorry. Also, I think I'll write just a couple of chapters after this one before finishing the miniseries, so get ready for the end. Feedback is always appreciated <3.

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

Requests are open so feel free to send me an ask <3.

BUCKY'S P. O. V.

"James, darlin', Where're ya goin'?" I barely heard my mother while I was picking up my jacket. I hadn't been able to focus on anything since Y/n closed the door. I glanced at it, from time to time. I guess I was waiting for her to come back. "James?"

I blinked and I saw my mother had moved from the living room to be in front of me. I had to seem really off for her to have that worried look while she scanned me with her eyes. "I'm gonna go dancing with Steve and a couple of gals, Ma."

She pursed her lips hesitant before coming back to the living room, taking the now empty dishes to the kitchen. "don't come back too late, darlin', and be careful."

I gave her a the best smile I could form before putting on my jacket and grabbing some money. "don't worry, Ma. But I might stay at Steve's, 'm not sure."

My mother sighed, but allowed me to do as I wanted. I kissed Rebecca's forehead and my mother's cheek before going out.

I got out of the building and I saw Steve waiting there, sitting on the stairs. "hey, pal" I greeted him while I helped him to get up.

"Hey, Buck" he greeted back. We started to walk to the nearest bar "how did it go the talk with your sister's bestfriend?" and there it was again. Y/n. Steve had seen her a few times while he was in my house and Y/n came to pick up Becca.

I gulped. Suddenly, my feet were the only thing I wanted to look at. "It didn't go well, I made her cry. I ruined everything again because of that damn kiss, and I think this time I lost her for good." I wasn't ready to say it out loud, I guess, because my voice cracked in the end. I cleared my throat trying to hide it, but Steve always saw throw me.

"Oh, so Y/n was that girl?" I nodded. Steve knew about what happened with Y/n, but I never said her name. "Oh." he repeated, looking down, with his hands inside his pockets. "y'know, we don't have to go anywhere, we can just go for a walk and then go home."

I nodded. I really wasn't in the mood for a dance. So we did as Steve said. We walked for half an hour approximately while I told him everything about what had happened with me and Y/n a couple of hours ago. And then, I walked Steve home. "sleep well, punk" I said.

"jerk" he answered, opening the door. Before getting in, he turned around to face me "y'know Buck? You won't ever know if you've lost Y/n, unless you ask her."

"she won't talk to me again, Stevie." I shrugged, my hands in my pockets "she hates me, and honestly, I don't blame her. I've been a jerk"

He huffed before replying. "You know that's not true. I mean, you've been a jerk" he took two steps upstairs, and spoke again. "but Y/n doesn't hate you. She wouldn't have saved your ass from your Ma and Becca otherwise."

And without giving me a chance to argue what he had just said, he got inside, closing the door behind him.

That punk knew nothing, Y/n hated me. She hated me, right? What if she didn't? What if Steve was right?

I wandered around her neighborhood for almost fifteen minutes, trying to be brave enough to knock her door. The 'what if's were killing me, but I couldn't find it in me to go to her house.

It was too late anyways, and I was sure as hell the last thing she wanted was to open her door and see me, standing there in the middle of the night... Right?

I tried walking back home, but before I realized it, I was spending all the money I had with me in alcohol, sitting on a stool in a bar near Y/n's building.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

I took a deep breath to calm myself when I entered in my apartment. I put a smile on my face and I took off the pins holding my hair. "Mom, I'm home!" I announced.

When nothing came in reply to my statement, I walked to the kitchen counter, where my mother left a note whenever she left.

And there it was. I hopped onto the counter and I read the couple of lines written down on the piece of paper in my hands. Apparently, my aunt was sick, so my mother would take care of her and come back the following day around noon. I sighed, swinging my feet. The day was getting better and better.

First Rebecca had lied to me - it was quite obvious his brother told her to do that -, then, I made the mistake of having hopes about fixing things with Bucky, and then, I cried in front of him for some stupid reason, making the both of us uncomfortable.

In addition to all of this, my mother wouldn't be at home until morning, so I didn't have anyone to talk about this with.

I decided the best I could do was having a quick dinner go to sleep. Yeah, sleeping would help me.

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

Luck definitely wasn't on my side, because I couldn't fall asleep. I tried to, but I ended up tossing the sheets off my body and getting up.

I since I was alone, I didn't even bother on putting on my housecoat over my nightgown before walking to the kitchen. After drinking some water, I decided maybe some cold air will help me, so I opened the kitchen window and I hopped onto the counter to feel the cool air directly.

I heard knock on my door and I jumped off the counter, thinking the worst. The knocks were fast, almost hysterical. What if something had happened to my aunt?

I jogged towards the door and, when I opened it, I almost fell to the floor. Standing in front of me was Bucky, crying nonstop.

I had no time to ask what was he doing there, because he took a step forward, crashing against me in a tight hug with enough strength to make me step backwards, almost tripping on my way. I could smell the alcohol before he said a word.

"I-I'm sorry... I'm s-so sorry for everything, please don't walk away from me again, p-please I-I'm sorry Y/n" he kept rumbling against my shoulder, his arms wrapped around my neck, and I couldn't tell if he was tightening the grip because he didn't want to let me push him away or because he couldn't stand upright.

"You're drunk" it's all I managed to say, still stiff. He started to cry harder, burying his face on the crook of my neck.

"I-I didn't h-have the guts to c-come here sober" he muttered shaking. "I-I swear I tried, I-I tried coming here sober, b-but I hurt you s-so many times t-that I couldn't"

I closed my eyes, and before I could stop myself, my hands where caressing his back reassuringly. "Does your Ma know where are you?" I asked resigned.

"N-no" he answered quietly and more relaxed. However, he quickly went stiff again. "D-Don't tell her I'm drunk please. I'll leave, just don't tell her"

I sighed, pulling him away slowly, in an attempt to help him regain his balance. However, the moment, I let go of him for him to walk, he tripped, almost falling. "I'm not telling her, but you can't leave in this state." I stated, holding him upright by his forearms.

He stared at me with glossy eyes, a spark of hope shining in them when he realized I was letting him stay. I looked down, blushing when he didn't look away. He let his forehead rest against my shoulder again, this time a bit calmer. Despite this, his voice cracked when he spoke, and I felt tears wetting my nightgown. "You're an angel Y/n. I-I don't deserve you."

[ourmisadventures]

Massage // j.k.

anon: Omg i would die if you did 4 and 6 with Jack, please?

this is like??? so similar to my recent davey fic but im such a sucker for mutual pining and with these prompts it just made sense to me. also it’s super short but it’s supposed to be a drabble so idk. hope you enjoy!

4: “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” 6: “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

---

"You need anything from the store?" She asks from the doorway, tapping her fingertips against the frame.

"More printer paper, if you can grab some," Race says, looking up from his computer, "what are you going out for?"

"Jack's still sick," she says, "told him I would go get him some soup and other things, figured I should ask if you needed anything as well."

"You're too good to him," Race shakes his head, "he loves you, you know."

The girl furrows her eyebrows, crossing her arms as she leans against the frame.

"Of course he does," she says, "and I love him too. That's not news."

"No, I don't mean like that," he replies, "as more than best friends. He told me so himself."

"Stop trying to cause problems," she sighs, "we're not in high school anymore, Race, this isn't the time for pranks."

"I'm not lying, I swear," Race responds, "we were drunk, some time freshman year of college, and you called him on the phone. He droned on and on about how he has feelings for you and how he thinks he's falling in love with you and blah blah blah."

The girl rolls her eyes.

"Okay, sure," she says, "I'll be back later, keep yourself out of trouble."

---

She tosses the packet of paper onto Race's bed once she returns, ignoring his instance that Jack had some sort of more-than-friend feelings for her.

She enters her own room, stopping short of a scream as her gaze falls on Jack.

"You're back," he mumbles against the pillow, "I was gonna move befo' you came back."

She stares, eyes wide as she takes in the sight in front of her. Her eyes scan over Jack - bare except for the sheet that covers the bottom half of his body - and she finally stutters out a response.

"Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?"

Jack groans.

"'M not naked," he says, rolling over with pain on his face, "well, not completely, I got my boxers on. My clothes were too itchy, an' my bed was too hot. Wanted t' cool off, my whole body aches and I thought it would help. Knew you were gone, figured your bed would be the coldest one."

"Poor boy," she smiles softly, "I got you some soup, and some crackers. You hungry?"

Jack shakes his head, closing his eyes as he coughs a bit.

"Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?"

Jack cracks his eyes open, looking at Y/N as she wrings her hands together, looking nervous.

"That would be amazing," he croaks, smiling at her, "would you mind if I took the sheet off?"

"Do whatever you need to feel comfortable," she says softly, "but take this medicine first, might make you tired but sleep is probably the best thing for you right now."

Jack nods, taking the plastic cup out of her hand and downing the medicine in one gulp. He rolls onto his stomach, and Y/N moves to straddle his waist

"Now, tell me if I hurt you, okay?"

She starts at his shoulders, rubbing in tight circles across his shoulder blades. Jack lets out a happy sigh, and she feels him sink further into the mattress under her touch.

"God, that feels amazing," he says stuffily, making the girl smile, "you have magic fingers."

"That's what she said!" Race shouts through the wall, making both Jack and Y/N groan.

"Despite Race's incessant need to turn everything into a sex joke," Jack says, "I already feel better, thank you."

"Course," she whispers, "you'd do the same for me. Now go to sleep, you'll feel better."

Jack nods, closing his eyes. She continues to massage his muscles, allowing herself to slip into thought of what Race had said before she left earlier that day.

He's in love with you.

"I love you."

Her hands freeze, eyes widening as she stares down at the half-asleep boy.

"Love you too," she says evenly, resuming her motions as she tries not to think about it.

"No I mean," he says quietly, breathing out his words more than saying them, "I'm in love with you, Y/N."

"You're..." she pauses again, eyes dancing across the room, "I'm in love you too, Jack."

"That's good," Jack mumbles, breathing falling shallow, "Imma kiss you when I wake up."

She smiles, pressing her lips to the divot between his shoulder blades.

"I'll hold you too that," she says quietly, climbing off of his body and covering him with the sheet.

She smoothes his hair back from his forehead, planting a gentle kiss to the still-warm skin.

"I love you, Jack Kelly," she whispers, "sleep well, feel better."

It's two days later before Jack's feeling like himself again, and the first thing he does is pull her into his arms and press his lips to hers.

"I meant what I said, you know" he says, smile stretching across his face.

"Me too," she barely gets the words out before he kisses her again.

"Also you give really good massages," he says after they separate, causing the girl to slap his chest teasingly.

"God you can be so annoying," she rolls her eyes, shaking her head, but she smiles all the same.

"You love me though," he says, pulling her into his chest with her arms around her.

"Yeah, I do."

---

taglist:

@blytheandherbrain @thebroadwayaesthetic @racinghiggins @theys-a-joke

[sunyoonandstars]

In Between (BTS Series) || Chapter 7

So, dear readers. This is Chapter 7 of the (currently) ongoing series formerly known as “BTS Imagine 5: Namjoon cheating on you & you getting revenge”, based on a request by the lovely @im-cxnfused . I didn’t like the old title from the beginning, to be honest. And I don’t think it fits this series anymore, considering that it has by far outgrown the status of an ‘imagine’ by now. 😅

I hope you all managed to find this chapter despite the change of name!🙏🏻

Thank you for reading 💜 and sticking to this series so far! It’s much appreciated! Also, feedback is always welcome, in case you didn’t know. I hope it was worth the wait and chapter 7 doesn’t disappoint. 

Enjoy!

******************************************************

Chapter Index - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.1, 9.2

Synopsis

You and Namjoon are in a committed relationship. Or so you had thought. When you catch him cheating, however, you decide to take revenge in a way equally brutal. But soon the events take an unforeseen turn, leaving you torn …

Pairing: You x Namjoon, You x … Jimin … ??

angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, occasional hints of smut

******************************************************

[…]

„Are we done here, Namjoon?“ „Just one more question“, he says, lowering his voice to a soft whisper, the sound of it making you uncomfortable, as he takes another step towards you. „Do you still love me, y/n?“ „Are you deaf, or what? Didn’t I make myself clear earlier? Yes, I —“ Before you can finish your argument you’re silenced by Namjoons lips on yours, kissing you urgently. For a second your weak body is ready to give in to the temptation, but your mind doesn’t stand for it, mental images of Jimin being unreeled before your inner eye like a film, memories of shared laughter and intimacy, echoing with whispered words of love and trust. Wide-eyed you push Namjoon off of you. „What the —“ A noise by the door lets you jolt around, the sight of Jimin’s pale face and the excruciating pain showing in his round eyes leading you to choke on your last words. „Jimin —“, you commence, but he has already turned on his heal, his hunched figure quickly disappearing into the dark corridor. „Shit!“, you call out, ramming your fist into the wall with such force the instant pain shooting up your arm makes you shudder. „Y/n —“ „No, Namjoon! Just — NO! What the hell were you thinking!? What was that!? Have you lost your mind? Did you see his face?“ With your uninjured hand, shaking, pressed to your mouth, stifling a gasp of pure exasperation, you turn to run after Jimin, hoping, pleading to whatever God may receive your prayers, that it’s not too late. That you will not have ruined everything. That you will not have lost them both for good this time.

Chapter 7 ||  In Between 

„What is it? What happened? I heard a door bang.“ You rush past a flustered Jungkook without even sparing him a glance. „Yah! Y/n!?“ „Not now, Kookie!“, you call back at him, headed straight for Jimin’s room. When you arrive at its door you find it locked. „Hey, Jimin! Please, open up! Come on! Let me explain!“, you beg, your injured right hand pressed to your chest while the other one keeps hammering against the massive wooden door, so vigorously and tirelessly your knuckles soon start to hurt. „Please, Jimin! What happened just now — It was a misunderstanding! I swear! Please, let me explain! I only need a minute! I beg of you! Just let me explain! Give me another chance!“ Shrill, heavy with tears, your voice echoes from the walls of the empty corridor, your desperate pleas going unanswered. Nothing, not a single sound reaches you from the other side of the door, the quiet smothering, sickening. Minutes of unavailing knocking and begging pass before you finally forfeit to Jimin’s unyielding silence, sinking to the ground in exhaustion. With your back against the cool wood, you remain seated in front of the door, involuntarily wincing as you flex your bleeding knuckles, examining the damage done. Great. Now both your hands are incapacitated. Still, you don’t commiserate your sore knuckles. Because your unremitting knocking must have gotten Jimin’s attention, and hopefully your persistence will earn you at least another shot at making things right. However, another quarter-hour elapses without the door to his room moving even an inch. You are almost ready to abandon your post when it finally opens. Quickly, you move aside, your heart pounding, only to discover that it’s not Jimin peaking outside through the crack, barely wide enough to fit a head. Hoseok’s head. His expression is unusually serious, the afflicted look in his eye even scaring you. „What? What is it, Hoseok? What did he say?“ „He can’t see you right now, y/n. I’m sorry.“ „You mean he doesn’t want to see me“, you huff. Hoseok remains silent, his mouth set in a hard line, lips pressed together, his eyes, however, speaking volumes. „Please, Hobi, let me in. Let me talk to him! Nothing happened between me and Namjoon! I can explain! I can explain everything! Please!“, you beg, actually on your knees, wringing your hands, disgusted by your own pitifulness. But if it would mean to get Jimin to at least listen to you, you’d gladly stab your own pride right in the heart and bury it with your own bare hands. Neither your tears nor your devotion or guilt seem to impress Hoseok in the least, though, the slender dancer staying put, unmoving, in the doorframe, wordlessly shaking his head. „Please, Hoseok“, you plead one last time, your voice no more than a low whisper now. „I have to explain. I can’t hurt him. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Please.“ You can tell by the look on his face that Hoseok desperately wants to give in to your begging, but in the end, his loyalty clearly lies with his best friend. „I’m sorry, y/n, but I’m gonna have to tell you to leave. Jimin is in no condition to talk to you right now. And, quite frankly, I doubt that he’s even willing to. I can only pass on to you what he said to me: This, this thing between the two of you, was a mistake. You should’ve stayed friends. Or, even better, should’ve ended your friendship three years ago. He should’ve known this was bound to happen. And he is not willing to be your meaningless rebound anymore.“ Gasping, you slide backward, away from the door, away from Jimin, the air escaping his room suddenly seeming poisonous to your lungs. „So … what you’re saying is he’s basically breaking up with me? Through you?“, you barely manage to get the words out, tears filling your eyes anew. Hoseok does his best to appear indifferent as he shrugs his shoulders. „Those were merely the words he used. I guess what you make of them is up to you.“ „I see“, you mutter under your shallow breath, nodding to yourself. It’s like Hoseok’s words flipped a switch inside of you. All of a sudden there are no tears to be cried anymore. There’s no pain left in your aching chest. No helplessness. No desperation. Just numbness, readily giving way to a searing, screaming anger filling up your entire being. Without even so much as looking at Hoseok again, you get up and turn around to leave, your body moving by itself, your paining hands clenched to fists and your feet quickly carrying you towards the front door. You can hear faint voices calling out to you, can feel hands grabbing the fabric of your sleeves, pulling you back, but you simply ignore them, the rage stirring dangerously close to the surface by now, threatening to burn through your skin any second, making it almost too easy to block them out. Without turning back you storm out of the house and simply keep on walking, lost in a powerless, trance-like state, unaware of where your legs are taking you. All you know, or believe to know, is that you’re leaving all the pain and confusion further and further behind with each and every angry step you take, and that’s all that matters right now. At least half an hour must have passed when you finally come to a halt. Confused, you stop and turn in place, incredulously taking in your surroundings. You’re on that bridge again. The very same bridge you ran to all those years ago when you learned of your father’s death. The same bridge you magically arrived at on the day you thought you’d lost your scholarship, or the night you were fired from your part-time job, sudden unemployment leaving you without money for rent or food in the heartless metropolis of Seoul. The same freaking bridge you came to three years ago, on a day very similar to this one, believing to have ultimately pushed away your closest and dearest friend. The same bridge you came to all those times life had seemed too hard to carry on. A fact you can’t simply dismiss. Being pulled here once again today must mean something.   Maybe it’s time, you think to yourself. Time to settle this matter for good.

„Hyung, come on now. We really have to go, otherwise, we’ll be late for practice. We can’t let personal affairs like this get in the way of our comeback, Jimin. We promised. And we’re professionals, after all. Or at least I thought so.“ Losing patience, Jungkook starts tugging at the older singers sweater, throwing back his head theatrically. „Jimin-ah, will you finally get your pretty butt in gear!?“, he whines, relentlessly pulling Jimin’s arm now in an effort to drag him to the door, almost stumbling to the ground when the older one unexpectedly gives in. „Okay, okay. Stop with the wailing already. You’re right, okay? We are professionals. It just slipped my mind for a second there. I’m back now. I’m good.“ „You are?“, Taehyung asks, patiently waiting by the door to Jimin’s room, obviously not entirely convinced. „Because you don’t look so good, Jimin-ah. Your face is kind of grey, actually. Are you gonna be sick? Are you gonna puke?“ „No, Taehyung. I’m not gonna puke.“ Jimin strides past him with a shake of his head, faking a smile in a halfhearted attempt to mask his annoyance. As if it wasn’t obvious that he’d rather be left alone right now. „What a shame. That would’ve been quite a show“, Yoongi smirks, the commotion in front of Jimin’s room having attracted even Motionless Min. Hoseok and Jin dart him warning glances that he simply shrugs off. „Come on, Jimin, don’t take it so hard“, Yoongi goes on, having trouble to keep up with Jimin’s fast pace. „You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I’m sure y/n can explain everything if you just let her.“ „Would you shut it!?“, Hoseok gruffly snaps at him. „What? Is she taboo now? Aren’t we allowed to call her by name anymore? Should I paraphrase then?“, Yoongi retorts, stopping cold in his step to block Jimin’s way and, in doing so, force him to face him. „Well, in that case, Jimin, I’m pretty sure you-know-who is feeling just as shitty as you are right now.“ Jimin avoids any eye contact, contritely gnawing at his lush lower lip. „I don’t care how she feels.“ „And that, my friend, is a big fat lie“, Yoongi calls out. „It’s enough, hyung“, Jungkook trounces him. „Let me through“, Jimin simply mutters, eyes still fixed on the floor. Although reluctantly, Yoongi steps aside, letting Jimin and the others pass and continue their way towards the front door where Namjoon is waiting patiently, his face a pale, stony mask bare of any expression. „Where is she anyway?“, Taehyung suddenly wonders when they’re already about to step out. „Did she retreat to the kitchen? Or your room?“, he points his chin at Yoongi who shakes his head, as does Jin. „Not to my knowledge“, the eldest replies. „I thought she went out. Didn’t we see her leave the flat?“ „Yeah, we did. But I thought she probably came back, that’s all“, Taehyung shrugs. „Why? Why would you think that?“, Namjoon asks, alarmed, Taehyung’s vague words drawing his attention. „Just because she left her coat. And her scarf. And her keys. And her phone. And her shoes“, he casually lists her belongings, pointing towards the coat rack and side table next to the door where they’re still neatly placed. Instantly, Namjoons mouth falls open, a soundless gasp leaving his lips. „Her shoes“, Jimin shakily breathes, eyes wide, any remaining color rapidly draining from his face as pure horror descends upon him. For a few seemingly endless seconds he remains frozen, until his head jolts up, eyes alight with sudden determination. „I have to go.“ „But — practice“, Jungkook calls after Jimin who is already halfway downstairs. „Screw practice“, Namjoon mumbles, frantically searching the hall stand for his parka. „Who knows where y/n is right now. She must be freezing, maybe even lost. I can deal with the repercussions of skipping practice for once. But I could never forgive myself if anything happened to her.“ „Alright, alright. We understand. We totally agree. Right, guys?“, Hoseok asks the boys who mumble in agreement. „Don’t worry, hyung, we have your back. Just make sure y/n’s safe.“ „I will.“ „Any idea where she’d have gone?“, Yoongi wonders aloud. Namjoon nods, his expression fierce. „I think I know exactly where to look for her. I just hope I’m not too late.“

Eyes squeezed shut, you stand by the bridge’s railing, drawing yet another painfully deep breath, your body being shaken by the cold, icy gusts of wind tugging at your clothes and hair and piercing your skin like a million tiny needles. You can feel the frosty air blow through you, through every fiber of your being, cleaning you of any anger and resentful thoughts you might have still carried within you when you arrived at this fateful spot. All you can feel by now is the cold. It’s liberating. Not to feel yourself anymore. Just the cold. Infinite cold. Too late, by then already having arrived here, had you noticed that you’d been running around town dressed in nothing but your jeans, socks, and shirt. No shoes, no coat. People must’ve thought you’d escaped some kind of mental hospital. But in the end, it doesn’t matter what people think. You can’t change their perception of you anyway. You learned that the hard way. Only today you learned that even the people you believe know and understand you won’t deviate from their picture of who and what you are. Jimin didn’t even hear you out. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have believed you. Neither of them did, neither of them would. Neither of them understands. And now you lost both of them. Jimin and Namjoon. No. Even worse. You’d cost them each other’s trust and brotherly affection. You’d spoiled their friendship. God knows, maybe you even ended BTS, a thought so horrendous you don’t even dare to ponder the consequences in case it would actually become a reality. And again, your head starts spinning. With another dizzy spell threatening to get the better of you, you cling to the banister more tightly, your injured hands painfully objecting. No, y/n! Cut it out! They’re done with you, so you’re done with them. No more drama. No more breaking hearts. No more confusing feelings. You didn’t deserve any one of them. The two of them are far better off without you and probably glad you’re gone. Jimin was right. You should have neither become his woman nor his friend in the first place. You surely couldn’t have been meant for each other with everything turning out so horribly. That’s not how destiny is supposed to work. Or at least it shouldn’t be. And you don’t believe in destiny anyway. Life isn’t ruled by fate and premonitions. Its course is determined by decisions. Decisions you have to make. However, this one you can’t make. This decision you can only escape. Flight is really the only bearable option. „Yah! Y/n!“ „Y/n! What are you doing! Get away from that railing!“ „Y/n! Step back! Y/n!“ You hardly believe your own ears. What the … A jolt of surprise going through your entire body brutally brings you to your senses. Reluctantly, your lids flutter open, the cold wind immediately bringing tears to your eyes. Or is it really the wind? „Y/n!“ Your heart pounding, sending adrenaline rushing through your veins, you turn to your left, only to be faced with a desperate Jimin, running towards you as if he was running for his life, eyes wide, hair flying and exposing his smooth forehead, his face as white as his anorak. „Y/n! Step back! Don’t do anything stupid!“ Bewildered, you now turn to your right where Namjoon has come to a stand at a safe thirty feet distance, panting heavily. „Do what!?“, you call back at him, finally having retrieved your voice after the first shock has worn off. „Don’t be so full of yourselves! I didn’t even for one second contemplate jumping off this damn bridge because of you two!“ Constantly, you turn from your left to your right and back, torn, overwhelmed by this unforeseen development. You didn’t think they’d even notice that you were gone, being busy with practice and all. And now they are here. Both of them. At the same time. But who of them should you face first? Who should you look in the eye, talk to? And, most importantly, who of them should you choose this time around, if it is even still your choice to make? You don’t know. You feel like you don’t know anything anymore. Except that it’s all too much. And currently, both of them are closing in on you, Jimin from the left, Namjoon from the right, slowly, cautiously coming closer. No. No. It’s too much. Too much. You can’t have them both near you right now. Not yet. „Stop!“, you shout, putting out your bruised hands, each to one side. Instantly both men freeze in place. „I didn’t think of jumping before, but if one of you moves even only so much as an inch closer, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna jump, alright!? So stay where you are!“ „Alright, alright!“, Namjoon mutters, putting up his hands in a gesture of resignation, his gaze intently fixed on you and his body tense, as if he’d be ready to lunge at you at any given moment.   „Don’t even say such a thing, y/n“, Jimin says, his voice so low it’s almost inaudible over the gusty wind. He seems to be frozen in place, simply staring at you, his face showing no emotion, his eyes, however, desperately pleading with you not to do it, not to jump, not to leave him. „Now what?“, Namjoon asks after a good five minutes have passed. „Now you leave. Both of you. Just go and leave me the fuck alone. I can’t handle this right now.“ „No“, both of them reply in unison. Groaning, you throw back your head, eyes closed. „Please. Just leave. Leave me be. Get on with your lives. Before I ruin them completely.“ „No!“, they call out once again, with even more determination this time. Albeit grudgingly, you open your eyes to look at them, one after the other. First at Namjoon, his round face with its dominant chin, his clever eyes, and softly curved lips. Then at Jimin with his thick hair and smooth features, the enchanting black wells of his eyes, his plump lips. „Alright. What’s it gonna take for you to leave?“ „We won’t leave“, Namjoon replies unhesitatingly. „Not before you make a choice“, Jimin adds, giving you a stern look. „Him or me. You have to decide. Right here. Right now. No one’s going anywhere before you do.“

To be continued …

But who will you choose, dear readers? It’s up to you!

The following part will be interactive (if you want to call it that). Your decision will decide the outcome of the story. There will be TWO ALTERNATIVE ENDINGS. 

Will you go left or right? 

(UPDATE COMING SOON)

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As always, thank you for reading! I hope you have a great day wherever you are! Take care! 💜 

If you like and haven’t already, feel free to check out my Masterlist for more BTS fiction. 

[impertfectedchoices]

I Promise - PT.3

Prompt: In a Heartbeat Ship: James X MC POV: (Point of View): James Word Count: 1,653 Tags:

@hhiggs | @destinio1 | @marryjanewaston

Artist Comment: Holaaaaa, So, pardon the, AGAIN, long break. Life’s been kicking my WHO-LE existence 😭.

This one, unintentionally, is going to be a really emotional part. This wasn’t my original plan, but it just… kind of happened. The past two months have been pretty hectic, and I’m really trying my best, But when you go through bs, it seems like you’re alone. A quote I’m gonna be using in this pretty much sums up what I’m going through. And I feel like it fits in this fic too well. So, I hope this comes across well. While writing this part, I actually cried, like, semi-broke down 😭. This hits a real personal note to me, and I hope you guys understand it. So, FAIR WARNING! I’m trying my best to not look at the situation, but how I’m going to get out of it. And your “now” won’t be your “future.” Anyone can come out of a crappy situation and thrive. You just gotta go through the storm. And all that sappy stuff, lel. 💕

PS, This, as well, was on a whim. No planning, drafting, or prethinking about plot before I write…. just gonna try to spot all the spelling errors this time 😂

le’Enjoy!

•

8:01pm

It’s feeling like elephants are sitting on my chest, since getting back to the car. I’ve never, necessarily, had problems with my breathing being under control. But sitting here; watching the car lights from main road dance across my windshield, I find that I’m constantly reminding myself to take breaths. The more I force myself, it seems, my breathing gets more shallow. I’m repeatedly feeling on the inside, each attempt to grasp at anything stable. I’ve always been able to zone out, and let my mind center on my sane points. But, as of recent, there’s nothing to feel. Numbness has replaced any form of joy to my life, leaving me a drained form of myself.

From the library, past… past MC’s house, to the highway that took me a few miles away from Hartfeld.

Familiar roads allowed for the holes to appear slowly into the wall I temporarily built up, within a 30 minute time span. I parked, went inside and felt the anxiety creep its way back in. My mind tried to put itself back together, but seemed conflicted with the storm’s leftover mess that wasn’t letting up. Every time I attempted to collect my emotions, regain what stability I believed consumed my existence, something happens to throw my progress out the window to clean, discard, and replace. One fall after the next.

My hands were still, wrapped around the wheel. Never leaves, but tightens every so often. I could feel myself tense up, veins more visible, and the white peaking through from the grip I’d had. I needed to focus on something, Anything.

There’s like… maybe over 30 cars in the parking lot.

40?

Just turned red…

Counted off 5 cars turning right at the light.

…now 6,

7?

Yea, 7.

Turned green.

White… Toyota

Um, think it’s a Camry.

The left side’s light always seems to last lo-

• knock, knock •

Now, just realizing the knocking happening next to me, I’d subconsciously whipped away any traces of emotion left on my face to greet who it’d been. To my surprise, I was greeted back with a less then stable face bundled up in her jacket. Unlocking the door, Abbie walked to the passengers side. I opened the door for her, as she climbed in, with semi-urgency. “W-wow, it’s a lot colder than I thought I’d be today.” She said with a bit of a stuttery smile. It had been getting colder since fall started creeping in, but the temperature rarely came to mind, with everything else taking up room. I tried my best to disguise any strain that I’d been feeling earlier, to save face. “Yeah, falls been catching up on us.” mentioning with a halfhearted smile. As I began fiddling with the knobs; turning switches to adjust the heat, she cleared her throat before she began breaking the silence again, “James,”

Looking back up, her face, almost immediately tensed up. Actually looking at her, you could tell she’d been worn out. She looked as if she’d been crying, and her eyes grew puffier the more seconds passed by. Abbie seemed very resilient at times. But in this moment; just like everyone else, I was stunned to see her so weakened. “Abbie. MC’s going to be oka-“ “Don’t lie,” The cracking in her voice was low, but audible enough to ring throughout my head. “James, ?Kaitlyn and Zack told me everything. I went to meet up with everyone, got inside and… and everyone was just, falling apart. Chis pulled Tyler to the side. And I’ve, I’ve never seen him look so broken. Zach couldn’t even look me in the eyes, and Kaitlyn could barely get enough words out without breaking down mid sentence…” The more she spoke, the more the reality of the situation sunk back into me. “…They told me you left, and that’s not like you. So I had to find you.” She’d been turned directly to me, eyes swelling. Looking down at my steering wheel, my hands at some point fell back into position. Feeling myself tense up, still forcing myself to control my breathing enough to speak, “I just, it was hard for me to stay in there for much lon-“

“JAMES, THAT DOESN’T MATTER!” Wide-eyed, My eyes darted back up to her. Her face had gotten a hint redder than normal, and her expression was drenched with frustration, annoyance, worry, and concern. She had been trying to do what everyone felt was impossible; break through the walls I built up when placed in these circumstances. I understood what she was trying to get accomplished, but of all moments, now wasn’t the time. “Abbie,” Attempting to bite back any amount of sternness in my voices, I continued, “… I know how your feeling right now, this isn’t easy on me either. But the last thing we need to be doing is losing it on each other.” It seemed like everything I was saying, though, was just fueling the fire. “What an excuse. So is this your way of ‘solving the situation?’ Running off and hiding in your car?” “No, but staying in there isn’t going to make it any better.” “So, what is staying locked up in here is proving? All I see is someone running away from their problems!”

I could feel every ounce of me radiate irritation. It was getting harder to swallow it. “So do you truly believe I don’t care about MC? Really?” “If you did, you’d be in that room waiting for her! You already took her for granted before, and to think I thought better of you James. I had high hopes, but she’s given you way too many chances for you to get your act together… and you just SIT HERE! You may have had a lot on you plate, but she’s literally given every chance to fix her schedule to make time for you. And all she can get is a few texts, Time you give her for newspaper club meetings? You literally stand her up to work on some dumb paper when you knew she’d been sick. And no apology? Nothing?”

I’d still been staring at the steering wheel as she spoke. The more she yelled, the tighter my grip had gotten. What she didn’t understand was that this was literally killing every inch of my being inside. It felt like I was falling in this hole; ever since Vasquez passed, plummeting. Im just ready to hit the bottom, look at the distance I have to climb, and start climbing, but there isn’t a bottom. I just keep falling. It never ends. This constant torment doesn’t seem to have an end. And I just want it to be over. Everything emotion warped around in my head together; anger, fustration, sadness, guilt, irritability, brokenhearted-ness, fear, heartache, pain. It all reeked in my body, consuming me as all I could hear in my head was yelling. Abbie’s voice faded out, and all I could here was my subconscious talking: It’s your fault, you should’ve been there, you did this, where were you, she needed you, you weren’t there, your no good for her, she’s wasting her time, your taking her for granted, she deserves better, let her go…

“God James, I would thought you’d learn better from everything you put her through. Even with Vasq-“

BEEEEEEEEP!

“BE QUIET!!!!!”

I slammed my fist into the wheel instinctively. I needed the voices to stop, the agony to stop, I just needed to be able to hear thoughts that were my own. She jumped, looking shocked towards me. She didn’t expect such a response from me.

“Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, it’s not true… it’s not true. I care… I care, I swear.” I’d kept repeating this to myself, extensively tight clutch on the steering wheel, hunched over it.

“I care, I swear I care about her… I love her so much, God. Please, make her okay, i swear I’ll do better I care I care I care She means the world to me she does I need her”

I kept repeating it, over and over again. I needed what I believed to overpower what was going on in my head. But I didn’t have the strength to keep up the facade. They were right, it was my fault. She’s been so stressed because of me. I didn’t deserve her, I should have been a better partner, a better friend, a better boyfriend… I didn’t notice Abbie grab me from my stance and held me. She had been the one consoling me this time around. The hold I had over my emotions just gave out. It felt as if me as a person broke, shattered for the first time, as I was left to face my emotions, instead of disguise them.

“I’m so sorry, MC. I’m so fucking sorry, I’m sor-ry I’m so- I’m so-rryyyy.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Dropping my face into my hands, my heart wrenched and I dissolved in myself. Shaking, all I could do was replay what she’d told me, making my soul call out for her more;

”I’m fine James, it’s just a small cold. Nothing I… *sniff* can’t handle!”

”I’ll be okay James, I promise.”

”Geez, so mushy.”

”… but I love you too, my darling.”

•LAST •NEXT

[hotarubi-e]

Weird is the wrong kind of feeling

Request: That’s it. If you throw up one more time we’re going to the hospital.” With klance sick Keith, college au bc Im a huge sucker!! And you're writing is amazing, I know I tell you this a lot but it is -Rae

Summary: Finals week is coming up fast, and more than anything, Keith just needs to study. So when a stomach bug hits him hard, there’s nothing he can do but try and ride it out. But there are only so many times Keith can puke before Lance is forced to take charge, and arrange a little day trip to the local ER.

(Look who finally got their shit together and wrote a request! I’m four weeks off graduation and ready to drop. Help me.)

Keith couldn’t focus. No matter how many times he blinked his eyes and shook his head, he just couldn’t force his brain to take in the words in front of him. He was staring, forlorn and exhausted, at the text book sitting on his desk, body drooping down in his seat. The words were swimming on the page, bouncing against the margins and jumping about between each other, and in the swirling vagueness of his mind, he was convinced that if he could just convey to them his desperation, they would stay still.

But, alas, they did not listen. How he wished he could persuade them to - finals began in a week, and he had so much left to do. He just simply did not have the time to be arguing with his study books.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, before letting it drift down to sit softly against his stomach, his fingers curling slightly in a weak attempt to curb the bubbling discomfort he had been fending off for hours. He had already thrown up three times that day - once as soon as he had woken up, and twice more after he had forced three red bulls down his throat in a desperate bid to coax his body into functioning normally. Or at least somewhere near normally. Keith didn’t think anyone’s body could work in the way it was meant to during the run up to finals week. Even Lance had been suffering, and he was the most on-top-of-it person Keith thought he had ever met.

A disturbing gurgle from his gut cut short his little reverie, and Keith groaned into the back of his hand, internally begging his stomach to just let him work in peace. Or at the very least refrain from returning his lunch to him. But with an alarming jolt, he realised that his prayers were futile, and scurried to his feet, not caring that he had knocked his chair over in his haste.

He couldn’t have timed his collapse next to the - mercifully open - toilet better if he had tried. As soon as his knees hit the floor, he was doubling up, throat constricting and spasming with effort as yet another wave of vomit forced its way up from his gut. The sounds of it splashing into the bowl were muted by his heaving gags and coughs, and tiny, barely there sobs interspersed the violent upheaval every time he took a breath.

Keith clung to the bowl as though for dear life, and for one terrifying moment, he thought he would puke out his own stomach with how vicious the gags had become. But with one last crackling cough, he spit off into the murky mixture below, and let his body slump against the porcelain, his chest heaving and shaking, while tiny traitorous tears leaked from his eyes.

‘F-fuck..’ he whimpered, dropping his head onto the back of his arm and scrubbing it this way and that to remove any trace of crying from his face. He didn’t cry, not ever. And he wasn't about to start admitting to it now. His stomach clenched again, drawing a pathetic mewl from his lips, and he lurched his head back over the bowl, barely making it in time for the next wave of vomit to spurt from his throat. It burned hot and rancid, and he felt his face scrunch up against the flow, his body protesting even as it purged itself.

It was another four waves before Keith could finally let his body sink down to the ground, utterly spent, his legs wrapped loosely around the toilet, his arms splayed weakly in front of his face. He didn’t even have the strength to aid himself as his body lurched with another heave. His only saving grace was that he had thought to fall onto his side, and so the measly dribble making its way from his lips dripped unobstructed to the floor rather than chocking him.

Panting for breath, Keith closed his eyes, willing his consciousness away. His entire being burned and swum with sweat. All he asked was the sweet oblivion of sleep, and when it finally arrived, he didn’t think he had ever been so grateful in his life.

‘- eith!’

Keith’s eyes fluttered, a tiny moan working its way from his lungs. He could feel something cold and hard beneath his head, but try as he might, he couldn’t place what it was.

‘..- eith-?! Can - …. hear me?!’

Groaning, Keith rolled his head to the side, fighting the familiar pull of fingers in his hair. He didn’t want them there. He wanted to throw up. Forcing himself to his elbows, he let his body fall against the toilet, only saved from cracking his skull against the bowl by the pair of strong arms that came from nowhere to support his chest.

‘Woah there, Keith. Take it easy, okay babe?’

Lance. When had Lance gotten home? He was supposed to be working until evening, and the last time Keith had checked, it was still closer to midday than anything.

‘It is evening, babe.. oh my god - how long have you been passed out here?!’

Huh. Apparently Keith had spoken out loud, rather than thought his concerns. In some far away part of his brain, he recognised that as worrying - at least until the more pressing issue of another wave of vomit leaving him redirected all of his attention to the fact that his head had somehow found its way over the toilet bowl once again.

He gagged mercilessly, chocking on the bile that burned his throat. He could feel it in his nose, and the thought of that alone made him want to scream. But he could feel himself fading again, the hands wrapped protectively around his body tightening as he slipped.

The next time Keith came to, he was lying in bed, a cool, damp weight pressed softly against his head. For a moment, panic overtook him and he thrashed, voice groaning as his pain-filled body protested the movement.

A pair of hands pushed him down, soothing at the crook of his neck, and Keith sank into them, his breath huffing.

‘Shh, it’s okay baby, you’re okay. You’re safe, I promise,’ Lance’s voice told him, floating down to him in his hazy state of nothingness.

‘L-Lance..’ he croaked, horrified by the sound of his own voice. ‘…the fuck.. happened..?’

‘You passed out, babe. In your own puke. It was.. kinda gross, not gonna lie. I came home and you were just curled around the toilet covered in sick, and like, shaking. I mean full blown Chihuahua shaking. You were a mess,’

Keith gulped, feeling the resistance in his throat from repeated burning. ‘Don’.. don’ remember,’

‘That’s probably a good thing, to be honest. I don’t think I’d wanna remember that. But I swear, Keith, if you throw up again -‘

Lance never got to finish his sentence. Apparently buoyed by the reminder of vomit, Keith’s body decided to rebel against him once again, and with a dramatic lurch, his chest shot up into the air and towards Lance, a thick spray of bile and water painting the sheets. Keith thought he might have heard Lance whisper ‘disgusting’ as he let gravity drag him back down again, but he couldn’t be sure. His ears felt as though they were stuffed full of rice, muffling the sounds of the world around him.

‘That’s it.’ Lance leaned down to grab Keith by the face, turning him until their eyes met. ‘If you throw up one more time we’re going to the hospital,’

‘Mghenffgh..’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand jibberish,’

‘I don’t need to go -‘

‘How do you feel?’

Keith blinked, not quite sure he was following the conversation correctly. Narrowing his eyes at Lance’s hovering face, he attempted to tilt his head, but found that it was particularly difficult with the way it was being sandwiched between his boyfriend’s palms. ‘Huh?’

‘How do you feel, Keith?’

He thought about it for a moment, assessing the state of his decidedly abused body. ‘I.. I feel.. weird..?’

Lance chuckled, lowering Keith’s head back down to the pillow. ‘Weird, he says. Can’t even admit to feeling ill. Seriously, cariño, what the hell am I gonna do with you, eh?’

Huffing, Keith tried to roll onto his side, but the movement seemed to dislodge the precarious equilibrium his stomach had reached, and with an unhappy whimper, he opened his mouth to yet another stream of bile dribbling out. Lance’s hands were back on his face, stroking his hair away from his eyes and rubbing small circles underneath his cheekbones.

‘Oh, baby..’ he crooned, tightening his grip as Keith keened low in pain and discomfort. ‘C’mon, honey, I’ll get your coat and then we’re going to the ER, okay?’

All of the fight had left Keith, and he could do nothing now but nod sadly into Lance’s hands. At least he wouldn’t be alone, he guessed, and the promise of Lance’s fingers carding through his hair for the next few hours was enough to lull him into a vague sense of comfort as Lance all but carried him out the door.

[chokememrstark]

A Dangerous Game // Samifer

Chapter: 13/15

Words: 2871

Summary: Sam comes across a very interesting book that describes a ritual in which one can play a game with the Devil. His curiosity is sparked and even if he doesn’t think he will ever actually do it, Sam soon finds himself face to face with this very entity. Things take a very unpleasant turn, but despite that, Sam is going back, as if something pulls him towards Lucifer.

abuse, violence, bullying, black magic, no hunter!au, a lot of angst, a lot of hurt/little comfort

Note: Because I feel I need to add this: Dean is pretty much a complete asshole in this story, so if you’re uncomfortable with that you might want to reconsider reading it (or tell yourself he is completely ooc, fine with me too xD)

Note²: There is a lot going on in this chapter, I apologize in advance for the angst ^^

AO3 Link

Thanks to @sassysupernaturalsweetheart & @brieflymaximumprincess for their wonderful beta reading and keeping me company while writing this story ♥

Tagging: @spnyoucantkeepmedown @samlicker83  @wait-what5 @xantcear (if you want to be tagged, just drop me an ask or contact me via IM)

Sam slept for almost fourteen hours straight this night, waking up way past two in the afternoon with what felt like a nasty hangover. His head felt like it would explode when he opened his eyes and the bright daylight hit them, so he quickly covered them with his blanket, groaning in pain. Apart from the horrendous headache, Sam experienced an extreme nausea, which he was barely able to control.

“What the hell…” he growled into his pillow, fighting with himself to not throw up right now into his sheets. Something was wrong with him, but he was unable to think at the moment, yet alone figure out why he felt this way.

It took almost an hour before Sam finally managed to crawl out of bed, only to rush to the bathroom and empty his stomach right away. When he was able to get back on his feet, legs shaking and holding onto the sink, what he saw in the bathroom mirror looked like a corpse. He had dark rings under his eyes, which themselves were completely dull, and his skin was much paler than usual, almost white.

“Shit… I’m getting sick…”

A sickness was the most logical explanation Sam could come up with and even if is wasn’t that, he had no strength to actually care right now. He brushed his teeth to get the disgusting taste out of his mouth, then dragged himself back to the bed. Within seconds, Sam was out again, his weakened body unable to stay conscious.

When he woke up the next time, it was around six and Sam didn’t wake up by himself, but by an agonizing pain in his chest, that made him feel like he would explode. It only lasted for a few seconds before simply vanishing, but this short time had been enough to make him break out into cold sweat. He only lasted a few minutes awake before, once more, drifting into a sleep that was more or less a black out.

When it was long dark already, Sam’s eyes fluttered open again at the sound of knocking on his door. He didn’t recognize the voice because everything sounded like it was muffled through a pillow, but he still forced himself up and slowly made his way to the door to unlock it. His hands were clawing the wooden door as he opened it, shaking and weak. He barely recognized the figure in the frame was his brother’s before collapsing in front of him.

“Sammy? Sammy, stop playing games!” Dean’s voice was confused, then angry, and he knelt down next to his brother. He poked the younger one with a finger, feeling the fever he had and finally realized Sam wasn’t pretending. “Shit!” he hissed.

With a lot of effort, Dean managed to pull Sam back onto the bed and got him out of the pants that were sticking to his skin. His brother’s breath was short and his chest moved heavily, but no matter what he tried, it was impossible to get him to wake up. Eventually, Dean went to the bathroom and took a cloth, holding it under cold water and then carefully laid it onto Sam’s forehead, in hope of it helping with the fever. Their dad was gone, so the Impala was gone too and the next hospital was two towns away. He decided that, if Sam wasn’t better in the morning, he would call an ambulance. For now though, Dean had little choice but to let Sam sleep and hope for the best.

Sam didn’t notice anything his brother did. Instead, he was trapped in a nightmare that kept repeating itself and that made less and less sense every single time he went through it. He heard an unfamiliar voice shout at him in a language he couldn’t understand and shouted back in the same way. The man who shouted at him was tall, with short, dark hair and seemed to be furious with anger and then, without a warning, he was pushed and fell. The fall felt endless, all the while Sam was screaming from the pain on his back - a burning and crushing, as if his skin was torn apart, almost torturous in its intensity. When the fall finally ended, all he could see was fire and he screamed again as flames began to consume him, begging for mercy and release from this hell. Then, it all started again and whatever he did, Sam was unable to do anything else. He was forced to live through the same scene again and again, with no way to escape.

In the morning, Sam finally woke up again. He still felt hot, but it wasn’t as bad as during the night anymore and when he turned his head, he noticed the wet cloth on his pillow. Narrowing his eyes, Sam pushed himself up with his elbows, only to be met with a sharp pain in his head. He gasped and grabbed his head, finding the pain gone as quick as it had come. The noise he made, however, was enough to alarm his brother and soon after he fell into silence, heavy footsteps were outside his door.

“Sammy?” Dean ripped the door open and rushed to the bed, immediately laying a hand on his brother’s forehead. Sam pushed it away angrily.

“Stop screaming!” he groaned. “My head feels like a train hit me.”

“You were burning last night, what the hell did you do? Do you want to die and get me into trouble or what?”

“Yeah, that’s your only problem, of course!” Sam scoffed. “Screw me dying, you could get into trouble! How horrible!”

“What did you take, Sam?” Dean asked again, frustrated and ignoring Sam’s protest to inspect him. “Crack? Coke? H? What?”

“Oh, shut up!” Sam pushed Dean away this time, with more force than before. “I’m not doing drugs, you idiot! I got a virus or some shit, that’s all.”

“You were half dead, Sam!” Dean protested. “I swear, if I find anything in your room I’m gonna -”

“Yeah, yeah, I got that from dad already! I’m gonna get the beating of my life, bla bla bla. Thanks for picking me up, but now leave me the hell alone, I wanna sleep.”

“You ungrateful bastard think I’m just going to do what you say?” Dean provoked Sam, who felt a hot sting in his stomach as anger built up in him.

“Leave. Me. Alone!” Sam was shouting at the last word, which had a weird effect on his brother.

Dean actually flinched and gave Sam a confused glare. For a moment he opened his mouth to talk back, but shut it again without a word and turned around to leave. As soon as the door shut behind him, Sam fell back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. The hot feeling in his stomach was gone again, but when he had shouted at Dean, something interesting had happened to him, too. It had felt like a short electric shock that rushed through him, a little like when he had held Lucifer’s hand, but much less intense, so much that be had barely noticed it.

“What is happening to me?” he asked the ceiling, of course without getting an answer.

He had slept for over a whole day, without eating anything and had experienced the worst nightmares in his life. Was it because of what had happened between him and Lucifer? What if this was the reason and he wasn’t the only one who was affected by it? At this thought, Sam darted up.

“I need to talk to him,” he said. “Now.”

Carefully, to not cause himself any more unwanted pain, Sam got on his feet and locked his door again. He thought about it for a moment, then took his blanket and wrapped it around himself, rather than getting dressed, and reached under the bed for the candle. He had pushed the razor into the wax the night before and now lit the candle, then cutting into the same finger as before to let the blood fall into the flame before closing his eyes.

Lucifer? Are you there?

Sam opened his eyes, meeting Lucifer’s in the mirror and let out a relieved sigh.

“You’re alright,” he whispered.

Lucifer, however, eyed him very closely and what he saw wasn’t satisfying him apparently. He leaned forward and gave Sam a strict look.

“What happened to you? You look like you have seen a ghost, or worse.”

“I feel sick,” Sam admitted and held his head with one hand. It was still hot and he felt a little dizzy, but he had to stay quiet or otherwise Dean would find out what he was doing. “I slept since now…”

“I would hope so, it is barely morning,” Lucifer huffed, but Sam slowly shook his head.

“I mean, I slept until now since I sent you away. Dean says I have a fever and was burning hot last night and I had horrible nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Lucifer’s interest was sparked at this, but not in a good way.

“I… argued with someone,” Sam remembered and closed his eyes to concentrate better. “He spoke some weird language, like me. A tall, black-haired man, maybe in his thirties or something, I can’t remember…”

Lucifer didn’t interrupt Sam, but the more the boy spoke, the more his skin lost its color .

“We argued and then… he pushed me,” Sam shook his head slightly. “I never felt such pain in my life. It was horrible, as if I was torn apart and my back was ripped open. And then there was fire and everything started over again.”

Sam opened his eyes again, expecting Lucifer to provide some kind of explanation, but all he saw was the most terrified face he had ever seen. Lucifer’s eyes were completely empty and wide and Sam’s heart ached at the sight. He had never seen Lucifer even close to this and all his own pain was blown away looking at him.

“Lucifer?” he asked quietly and crawled closer to the mirror, without even thinking about it. Seeing Lucifer like this broke his heart. “Lucifer, please talk to me.”

“I… I am fine,” Lucifer said slowly, but his expression still didn’t change.

“I’m sorry I told you, I didn’t mean to -”

“No,” Lucifer finally blinked and turned his head, looking at the visibly scared Sam. “You couldn’t have known. Your dream… it happened.”

“What?” Sam’s fear turned into confusion. “What do you mean it happened?”

“Sam… what you saw was one of my memories.”

Eerie silence filled Sam’s room as he tried to wrap his head around this new information. Even after minutes, he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“Your memory…” he eventually whispered, still in shock.

“You must have gained access to it when we touched, I’m sorry. It must have been overwhelming.”

“It was, but… you said it’s your memory. So, it happened to you?”

“A long time ago, yes. It’s not a pleasant memory, as you might have noticed. No wonder you are sick, a memory this strong would have undoubtedly already ended your existence if you were anyone else.”

“And why not me?”

“I thought about it, but I couldn’t find a solution,” Lucifer sighed. “There is something that makes you stronger, which is why you survived this experience. Why you got it in the first place, however, I don’t know.”

“I was worried you might go through something similar,” Sam admitted a little embarrassed. “I wanted to know if you were alright.”

“That’s very kind of you, Sam,” Lucifer said, giving the boy a soft smile. “But I feel well.”

“You… didn’t experience anything?” Sam was a little disappointed for some reason.

“In fact, I did. But it wasn’t something unpleasant.”

“What was it?”

“It was like a vision of children playing on a field in the snow. They were laughing and had a lot of fun. It was… rather calming.”

When he heard the words, Sam smiled contently. He knew what Lucifer talked about. At the age of five, he went to a pre-school in a different town. This winter was the first that he had experienced snow and the whole class had spent the whole afternoon on a nearby field, playing and sledding. It was the best day he could remember.

“I saw one of your memories, am I right?” Lucifer asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. It was the best day I ever had in preschool,” Sam said. “But why do I have one of your memories and you have one of mine?”

“It must have happened when we touched, somehow we exchanged them in the process.”

“Weird,” Sam huffed, but still kept his smile. “I wonder why you got a good memory and I got a bad one.”

“I don’t have many good memories, Sam,” Lucifer smiled sadly. “Your memories consist of sixteen years, mine of eons. If you would have gotten a good one, I would be very surprised.”

“Can you remember a good thing?” Sam was wondering, honestly. “I mean, I read a lot of lore in school and libraries, but I don’t think most of it was actually true.”

“If you are referring to me being an angel before becoming the Devil, your lore is correct,” Lucifer said, pausing for a moment. This was a very personal topic for him and usually he wouldn’t speak about it. Sam, however, was genuinely interested in what he had to say it seemed and didn’t want information to use them against him. So, eventually, he continued. “I was an angel, I had brothers and yes, I fell. What you have experienced last night was my memory of it.”

“Of your… fall?” Sam was shocked. Yes, he had read of Lucifer’s fall from Heaven, but he never imagined it being like this. He had imagined a war, fighting, not what he had experienced.

“My brother cast me out, at the will of our father,” Lucifer noticed Sam’s confused glare and nodded. “Yes, I am talking about God. I never told anyone about this, but you have seen what happened, this is different. Michael, my older brother, did it. I begged, pleaded, asked him why he was so blind to see the truth I had seen. But he wouldn’t listen. Michael was the loyal son, he never questioned an order, never questioned our father’s words.”

“Your own brother cast you out of heaven?” Sam was close to tears.

“Father ordered it and Michael obeyed, yes,” Lucifer confirmed. “When an angel falls, their wings will burn to ashes. That was the pain in your back you experienced.”

“It must have been horrible,” Sam’s voice was thick from a sadness he had never thought he could feel. He wished he could take everything that had happened back; take the painful memory away from Lucifer.

“You cannot fathom the true pain, Sam. Be glad about that,” Lucifer sighed sadly. “It has been a long time since I thought about what happened, but I have received my punishment for the treason I have committed. You know my consequences.”

“Becoming the Devil, yeah… say, Lucifer, do you regret what happened?” Sam caught the surprised glance from the other, smiling slightly. “I mean, that you did what you did. Would you rather be back home?”

“No, I don’t regret what I did,” Lucifer shook his head. “My punishment did not fit the crime, I did not lie when I did what I did. In fact, I never lied before I fell. I refused to love humans more than I loved my father and my brothers, for this, I was punished. When you experience such a huge injustice that it shatters your world and your faith is destroyed beyond repair, you do what you have to do, what you feel is the right thing.”

“I know what you mean,” Sam sniffed and wiped a stray tear away from his eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this. It’s not fair that you are punished for wanting justice.”

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” Lucifer answered with a sad look on his face. “I am what I am, it has been like this for almost as long as your world exists. It’s how it was supposed to be.”

“Still,” Sam shook his head. “You don’t deserve this. Being punished for loving someone is just wrong...”

Lucifer stayed silent, but Sam understood. He was a proud being, Sam showing pity towards him was scratching on this pride and he wouldn’t admit it.

“I should try to sleep a little more,” Sam mumbled after a while, his head beginning to hurt again already. He was glad Lucifer was safe and didn’t suffer, but he was still very tired.

“You should rest, yes,” Lucifer agreed with a calm voice. “I am grateful for your concern, Sam. I really appreciate it. Now look after yourself and get well again.”

“I will, promised,” Sam smiled. “If you don’t mind, I will talk to you again when I feel better.”

“I am looking forward to it.”

Sam put out the candle between his fingers and smiled at the mirror.

“Goodbye, Lucifer.”

“Goodbye, Sam.”