#i swear. i swear I looked everywhere for even a sliver of things interesting about her that is outside of Leon and the only cool thing is..

[eternallyhyucks]

chasing pavements | kim leehan

— no warnings, wc: 1.1k

— the title makes this sound so depressing i promise it is not 😭😭😭.. (i think) i just couldnt think of anything better …

part 2 (coming soon :p)

𖤐 ྀ

4 years ago, kim leehan moved into your town and started going to school with you. at first you thought he seemed nice, but within a month of him joining your class, your mind was immediately changed.

because he was attractive, all the girls in your classes constantly flocked around him or tried to get his attention which in turn made the boys befriend him to try and get a sliver of the attention put onto them. unfortunately for you, leehan was in all of your classes.

you weren’t the type to want to be different from everyone else, but you simply weren’t interested in the way leehan acted. he just seemed to be cocky because of all the attention he recieved constantly and that bothered you. of course, you never voiced your opinions on him, so they never created any problems.

that is until leehan himself began to notice that you never paid much mind to him.

one day, after your lunch period, you stopped at your locker. you told the friends you were walking with that they could head back to class while you grabbed your water bottle. as you closed your locker, you jumped a little after seeing leehan leaning with his back on the lockers next to yours.

“hi y/n”

“hi leehan”

he turns his body towards you, “i feel like we never actually talk to each other”

“we don’t usually have a reason to”

“do you not want to talk to me?”

“not really”

you start walking towards your class and he follows next to you.

“aw why not”

you ignore him and sit back in your seat.

after that interaction, you always caught leehan looking at you from the corner of your eye. he would always tend to be around you whether it was in class, the hallways or even during your lunch periods and your friends especially took notice to this.

“i swear i see that leehan kid everywhere lately”

you nod your head, “i know, i feel like i can’t escape him”

“and he’s always looking at you. i wonder if he likes you or something” your friend smirks

you shudder at the thought, “oh please he has enough girls on his roster”

months go by and leehan was still constantly hovered around you. one day, you had enough. because his locker was only a couple down from yours, you took extra long to put things away into yours to see if he would do the same. just as you suspected, he also stood at his for extra long. as the hallways began clearing up, you walked over to his locker.

“why are you everywhere, why do i keep seeing you everywhere”

“what do you mean?” he smiles

“come on leehan. ever since that day i told you i didn’t wanna talk to you, you started hovering around me everywhere i go. why are you doing that”

“you noticed ?”

“well no shit, you went from being nowhere near me to suddenly always near me”

“i don’t know.. i wanna get closer to you, you know, become friends. i just didn’t know how to go about it”

“so you started following me around..”

“well that wasn’t the plan”

“right.. okay well, stop doing that. if you wanna be friends just come up and talk to me, i won’t punch you for that”

“what would you punch me for?” he starts giggling

“freak” you walk away, rolling your eyes

as the year progressed, leehan began talking to you more and more. he would ask for help on homework and even try to partner up with you for projects (which you would usually turn him down for). everything he did felt platonic to you and you were completely platonic back. you still didn’t really like the way he acted anyway.

the end of the school year came quicker than you expected and the summer before your first year in college began (of course, you and leehan ended up committing to the same uni)

on the first day of your summer break, you woke up from a nap to a chain of texts from your friend.

are you going to the party tomorrow night? you try and rub some sleep away from your eyes,

what party?

leehan’s grad party, he invited us the day before graduation?

did he?

maybe it was when you fell asleep in stats

oh.. probably

so you going?

i don’t know, we’ll see

as you hit send and were about to put your phone down, it lit up again. this time it was leehan.

you’re coming tomorrow right? you never rsvp’d but your friends are coming so..

feeling a little guilty, you hesitated a little before replying, yeah i’ll try my best, sorry for not rsvping😭

you’re good, see you there ;)

you got out of bed, sighing.

—

the next night, you decided to carpool with some friends. you wore a simple floral dress with a sweater on top. from the moment you stepped into the party, you felt like you needed to leave, but unfortunately, leehan saw you walk in.

he walked over and smiled at you and your friends. “thank you guys for coming!”

your friends began spreading around the room and as you looked for a place to sit, leehan came and sat next to you.

“you look pretty”

“thanks”

“was the drive bad?”

“no, not really”

the silence between the two of you was very loud

“do you not wanna be here?”

you sigh, “i’m just tired, didn’t sleep much last night”

“ahh i see, i’ll let you be then”

he did not in fact let you be. 20 minutes later, he came and sat next to you again.

“you look bored”

“i am a little bit”

“where’d your friends go?”

“not a clue, i haven’t seen them since we got in”

there was a pause before leehan replied, “can i talk to you outside for a second?”

“uhh sure?”

the two of you got up and he led you out of his house and onto his deck. you lean on the railing of the deck.

“i have to tell you something” leehan began

“what’s up”

he paused, “i like you”

you blankly stared at him before you realized he wasn’t exactly joking around.

“you don’t mean that” you scoff. “you have an entire roster of girls you could turn to. you’re only interested in me because i’m not waiting in line for you”

leehan’s gaze shifted. “please y/n you have to believe me, i’ve really never felt like this for anyone else in my entire life”

“do you really expect me to believe that?”

“no? yes? i don’t know.. please can you just give me a chance?” he sighs and looks away and you notice him wipe his eye.

“three dates. just go on three dates with me and if after them, you really don’t want to be with me, i’ll move on. but if you say no or if in the middle you back out, i’m going to keep trying to win you over. what do you think?”

you think his offer over for a minute and sigh, “fine.”

he gives you a small smile.

©eternallyhyucks

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[woodlandscab1n]

Guys... guys lets go back in time. Guys guys guys please.e..

I can't wait 'till I can get all the other RE games that I haven't played, get hyperfixiated on the whole franchise and literally never stop talking about dumb small details that I saw in a game and talk about that small detail a lot also go on a rampage of finding all the info I can of certain character.

[k-n0-x]

༺ ♱✮♱ ¨:·Something Stupid-Chapter 4·:¨ ♱✮♱ ༻

A/N: Hey guys! I managed to get this chapter out early coz I am so hot and amazing at everything my social life is at an all time low and we have Easter break. Some foreshadowing if you guys can guess, but keep it to yourselves for now. Mommy issues y/n? That’s a first 😨😨😨😨. This chapter is also Lucifer basically being: “No, you’re so sexy haha don’t cry”

Also, the slow burn is burning now! YAYYA 🎉

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Enjoy! <3

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🦢♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

You sit on the patio of your home, feeling as though you’re rotting away. 

It’s been 5 days since Adam’s full blown out tantrum, but it feels like it’s been 5 lifetimes. 

A cockatiel lands on your table, its bulging inky eyes staring at you, vying for your attention. 

You laugh, and give it some crumbs of your leftover toast from breakfast that you couldn’t bear to finish.

The bird eats them graciously, and flies away, you watching enviously. 

Oh, how you wished you were that bird. Carefree, and not trapped in the gilded cage that you are in. 

If only… 

Bzz bzz

Your phone rings. The contact Mom glows on your screen. 

Unwillingly, you swipe right. 

“Hey mom, what's up?” This woman never calls you, unless there are three instances; she needs you to get her something of monetary worth, wishing you a happy birthday/any other significant holiday, or-

“Darling, there's something I need to talk to you about. A little birdie told me that you've been stepping out of line recently~” 

Ah yes. The third instance. The times when your actual fucking personality shows, even for a sliver of a moment, and how it  could potentially hurt your ‘relationship’ with Adam. 

“Mom, it's not that big of a deal. I just was feeling rough recently, and-”

“Well it doesn't matter what you feel does it? What matters is that you honour our family. Being married to Adam is what's best for you. You acting outwardly is seriously jeaprodising your relationship, and I am just trying to help you stop before it's too late,” Your maternal figure’s sing-song-like voice turns sharp in an instant, like it could cut through butter. 

“You were always a wild child, a disappointment, I am trying to help you-”

You interrupt. 

“How are you helping?! Belittling me, treating me as some sort of– some do Ill?! I have tried, given my whole entire fucking life, trying to please you in every way, but somehow, it's never enough! And when I do fuck up, suddenly I'm a failure in your eyes?!” 

Silence.

“You better mind your language young lady,”

“NO! I will NOT mind my FUCKING LANGUAGE. I will  swear when I want to, and I will do whatever I FUCKING WANT! I AM DONE WITH YOU AND YOU- YOUR WAY OF THINGS!” 

You press the end button, calmly. 

You storm up to your bedroom and closed the door. Calmly.

You look at the bookshelf, always so perfectly clean, scarce of dust. 

Perfectly clean, no imperfections. 

You let out a cry of irritation and just start throwing out books, ripping the pages of each, crumpling sheets of paper, sobbing hot angry tears while doing so. 

When that was done, you just bring the entire bookshelf down with a bang, and you stomp on it until you feel a sharp pain in your foot, surely that's a splinter right there. 

You stumble over into your bed and scream and cry in your pillow, amongst the mess.

You submerge yourself in your pillow even more, until your anger numbs away, leaving you with a throbbing pain in your head. 

Absolutely drained from your outburst, you drift off. 

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

Everywhere is foggy. 

You look around, looking for anything of use, when your attention is turned to a glowing light, placed on a rusted pedestal. 

Since it's the only thing that piques interest, you touch the fluorescent ball and yelp when it scorches your hand.

“Ow,” you pull your hand away and decide to look for anything else. 

As you trek through the nothingness, you  feel like you're being tugged down by an anchor, or treading through quicksand. 

Suddenly, the ground gives way under your feet. 

You’re falling. 

The cold air whistles through your ears. 

You try to fly with your wings, but nothing; it feels like they have been ruthlessly ripped from your body.

You feel as though you're being stretched, squished and deformed like play dough, until you hear and feel something cracking. As you fall, you look towards the light. 

At the entrance of the hole, there are many, unidentifiable figures, just, staring at your downfall. 

You want to scream and cry for help, but it feels like your mouth has been cemented shut. 

A faint noise calls your name, which sounds closer and closer each time as you fall helplessly. 

You make a successful-ish attempt to turn on your stomach. 

In your horror, you see a halo, cracked and muted of its previous glow. Your halo.

Not that far below you, there are hot red coals. 

Oh God. 

The voice becomes louder and closer and you hit the ground with a scream. 

You jump up, to find yourself back in the dump that is your bedroom, slicked with sweat. 

“Oh my God, Y/N! Are you alright?” Emily, who was tentatively paving the way to get to your pathetic self. 

“Emi, hi… Yeah, just eh, rough day,” you smile weakly at the Seraphim, who’s concerned expression shows that she doesn't believe you, but she doesn’t want to put you under pressure.

“What’s all of this?” Emily motions to the wrecked room.  

“Adam pulled a tantrum again?” 

“Huh? Oh that, nono, sorry uhm,” you pause to clean the room as it was with the snap of your fingers.

“Why are you here Emi? Do you need something?” You wipe your eyes, but your bloodshot eyes are still apparent. 

“No, I just wanted to hang out with you, but I can come back if it's a bad time,” The Seraphim stumbles over her words as she looks up at you, slightly flushing.

“No, no you can stay. I’m just a little bit shaken up, but yep you can stay. Uhm….” you trail off. 

This place is feels really constraining

You need an escape. 

“Hey Emily, wanna go on an adventure?” You put on a face of newfound enthusiasm. The Seraphim just had that effect on people.

“Of course! But er, where?” 

“Shh, it's a surprise, now let's go!” You push Emily into the portal you made and go in yourself. 

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

“Woah, this is what it's like?” Emily says as she looks around the hellish landscape like a lost puppy.

She snaps out of it when you drag her out of the way of a thrown carcass headed towards the both of you. 

“Yeah, let's head inside,” You manoeuvre her into the hotel. 

The lobby is more populated than your last visits to the establishment, though all faces are familiar. 

“Emily, meet Angel, Husk Alastor, Charlie, who you know already, and-” Your voice dies down in your throat at the sight of the Demon King, with his strapping jacket and top hat. 

What is going on with you today? 

“And Lucifer,” You motion to the King, who gives you both an acknowledging nod. 

Your heart misses a beat. 

“Well uh, there's one more but I don't know where she is… WOAH NIFFTY!”

The little scamp runs towards the Seraphim with a knife about to stab her with malicious intent. 

“Niffty, no. No stabbing any more angels we talked about this,” Angel grabs the knife from the housemaid and throws it in the trash can. 

“Ugh, not a bad boy,” Nifty grumbles and begrudgingly rushes off to god knows where. 

“Well everyone, this is Emily, not sure if Charlie has told you about her but-”

“Is she your kid?” Angel asks. 

“I’m sorry, what? Oh no, no she is not my kid pff,” you say. 

“Huh,”

“Well as I was trying to say, Emily here is another person on our side,” You give Emi an encouraging squeeze of the shoulders. 

“Well this is quite the improvement. Salutations! Pleasure to meet you,” The radio demon greets himself, extending his hand to shake Emily's. 

She takes it, though cautious. 

She turns to Charlie and warms up to the amicable face. 

“Hi, Emily, er obviously you know who I am,” The princess of Hell welcomes her, as some of the other Hotel residents go off doing their own thing. 

“Oh yes. Y/N told me about you, obviously we've met before, but under less casual circumstances,” Emily scrambles for conversation. 

Obviously, they need a little push to loosen up with each other. 

“Charlie, maybe show Emily the garden? Or maybe the entire hotel for that matter. Emi here has been dying to have a look around,” 

“Oh yes! Let me show you some of the suites, I decorated them myself,” Filled with giddiness, Charlie beckons the Seraphim upstairs.  

Emily turns to you, unsure. 

“Go on, don't worry, I'll be waiting here!” You give her a persuasive smile and shoo the pair upstairs. 

Now you had some time to kill…

“Hey!” 

“Agh!” You jump at the voice of Lucifer. 

“Geez, am I that scary?” He laughs and puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Pff as if-” You snicker and give him a playful shove back.

“Anyway, how've you been? How's the old rusted machine been?”

“Are you always going to make digs and remarks at my husband in an attempt to get all three of his wives in your pants?” You raise an eyebrow sarcastically.

He sighs, feigning sorrow. “You know me too well. I thought it was the perfect plan, but clearly I'll have to tune it a bit,” The demon rattles on, but your brain fixates on the one word he said. 

Perfect. 

Something you try so, so hard to be, but apparently isn't enough for your mom. 

If your mom doesn't love you as you are. 

Well, what's to say anyone can? 

“Well, what do you say, Butter-Duck? You have to find a nickname for me, but I'll call you that regardless, hmm?”

His question brings you back to the conversation. 

Which, leads you to ugly, fat tears. 

Lucifer’s face contorts into panic. 

“Wait, I'm sorry, it's was a rubbish nickname, sorry I thought it was funny-” He puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“No, no it's not that,” You rub your eyes, your voice croaky. 

“The reason is quite silly, really, it's fine, I'm just being stupid hahha,”

Lucifer is not convinced. 

“Listen, you helped me out the other day, and even though I'm not good at this comforting stuff, please, at least let me listen,” He gives you a weak, gorgeous smile, one that is enough to make you stop crying about. 

Okay, it's really becoming an issue of you being distracted by…

Him.

“Well, just an argument with my mom; basically just her saying how much of a disappointment I am and-” your voice creaks.

“And?”

“And I suddenly just don’t feel like her daughter,just a burden she has to put up with, and then what’s the point of all of this if you're not perfect,” 

And breathe. 

You put your face in your hands. 

“I’ll never find love,” 

“Hang on, but isn't Adam your husband? Don't you love him?” 

“No, I don't. It was a marriage purely organised by my parents. Completely transactional,” you mutter dejectedly. 

“Shit, that really sucks. Listen, I know it's hard to hear, but you need to hear it. Nobody is perfect. No one. That's what makes people interesting. And your mom wanting you to be that is far from perfect of her. Not sure if you're aware, but we're in Hell, right now, amongst many people who are basically morality rejects. But you, you're a Winner. Not in the physical sense, but also metaphorically. And for what it's worth…” Lucifer takes a moment to mull over his next words. 

“Many people love you, like Charlie and, that Seraphim, Emilia?”

“Emily” You amend. 

“Anyway, that's besides the point. The point is that you have many people that adore you, and that's what matters most,” Lucifer comes closer and stiffly puts his arms around you, which you return. 

“Thank you, Lucifer,” You sniffle into his shoulder. 

“No problem, anytime. You are my friend after all,” He gently smiles.

Your heart flutters. Friend? As in, person he considers more than an acquaintance? 

“So, what's this about a Butter-Duck?” You tease. 

“What? I thought it'd be a cool nickname for you,” He huffs. 

“Alright, alright… Let me think of a nickname for you then… Lulu!” 

He grimaces. “Ugh, that sounds like a name for a baby products brand!”

“Oddly specific, but if it annoys you more, all the better!” 

“Ugh, you're like worst than some sinners here I swear,” 

“Who said Angel’s can't be jokesters too?” You give him a wink. 

He coughs, a rosy red complexion appearing on his face.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

Emily and Charlie come back into the lobby, to you and Lucifer making small talk on the couch. 

“Ready to go?”

 Emily nods. She goes to hugs Charlie, which is reciprocated. 

“Well, I’ll see you around?” You squeeze the demon’s king hand. 

He looks at you, and nods, hesitant to return the gesture, as if you were glass. 

“Yes, I will,” 

As you and Emily leave to make your way back to Heaven, you could've sworn you heard Lucifer whisper three words. 

“I love you,” 

You turn back with a questioning expression, but all that was on his face was nonchalance.

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🐣♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

Word count- 2,194~

Taglist:

@dionysusismypatrongod

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@froggybich

[phoenixcatch7]

Just finished oracle of ages!!! Good game, good game. I have Thoughts.

I actually really enjoyed the story and characters! I figured going into the oracle games that it'd be a simple, cliché story, not much nuance or depth, and with Seasons that's basically what I got: din gets fridged in a crystal at the start of the game -> go get her -> you need a set of maguffins to do so -> fight big monster.

Admittedly it was the first game, which meant less story, but even if I hadn't linked (heh) the games for extra end game content Ages just did so much more.

Unlike din, naryu has someone else willing to help her. Ralph (the twinkiest twink to ever twink) was a young man who was her devoted friend (there was a weird crush triangle thing going on with him, Link and naryu, I always felt like I was missing subtext) and, spoilers for a 20yo game?? I guess?

He was the dethroned descendant of the ancient queen Ami. His family definitely still have big money though. He was pretty clearly supposed to be a comic relief character with a twist, but I ended up really liking him! He was over enthusiastic and over confident, but not unintelligent, a decent swordsman (I think) who was incredibly loyal to his friends and held some deep rooted responsibility for the people his family used to rule. Kind, determined, good with kids and people in general, he was terrified but willing to sacrifice his very existence to save the people.

The world building was also great! I don't think I've ever played a zelda game without gorons, but hylians were in short supply. To be expected outside of hyrule, I guess? Anyway, there were also lizard people on an island (tokay!) whose entire deal was.. A bit outdated? Rude, brazen and aggressive to outsiders, they lived in crude huts, worshipped things they didn't quite understand and were generally the old Hollywood stereotype of an isolated jungle tribe.

There was also, like, zora racism? There's a zora village underwater, and one of them was like 'us sea zora are nothing like those river zora 😒' which handily solved both my question of if the river/ocean zora divide was canon or fanon and the relationships between the two. Are they even the same species?? It just makes the rito even weirder but hey lmao. In all honesty I was pretty sick of the river zora at that point too, I swear there were two of them popping up in every screen that had even a sliver of water deeper than the knees and they CONSTANTLY shot fireballs istg they were such a pain. They were literally everywhere and so hard to kill.

On the plus side mermaid suit ^u^!! A dungeon item (the mermaids cave), the item had a desc like 'the skin of the mythical beast' which raised SO many more questions than it answered. The zora were delighted to see a young mermaid! The use of 'maid' implied either a) the zora all thought link was a girl and he didn't correct them (eyo genderqueer androgeny) b) the zora don't subscribe to gender the way humans do (eyo genderqueer androgeny) or c) all fish people look like mermaids regardless of their specific gender (eyo genderqueer androgeny). It literally could have been all three who knows. Maybe one day we'll actually meet a mermaid in zelda.

Also, there's a mini game in Seasons, which I played first, the subrosian dance. It's a pretty popular part of their culture, it's got music, it's got professional dancers. In Ages, you find the gorons doing the exact same dance! Rosa, a subrosian performer you meet in Seasons, is also there, saying her people's dance is better (tbf it is), but if you go to the past you'll find the gorons actually invented the dance first, as part of their love of games and entertainment, and you can talk to two subrosians who are talking about bringing the dance home! It's so interesting to see little details like this, where the travelling subrosians visited their fellow cave dweller lava eating people centuries ago, brought it back home where it exploded in popularity and centuries later became refined as a whole folk dance with spinning and everything, with the people forgetting where it came from, where the gorons keep their dance exactly the same (having to do a rhythm game without rhythm is hard).

Actually, there was so much political fantasy drama going on in the past?? Like, you've got the childless queen taking care of her people, a budding village and a few more settlements across the kingdom. Early in her reign she tried to build a tower to act as a beacon to her fiancé lost at sea, which is a romance story all on its own, but it was cut short (maybe because of funding?). Centuries in the future, it's just ruins. You've got people living on an ACTIVE VOLCANO starting a symmetry cult around a artifact called 'tuni nut' which, presumably, stabilises the volcano? And it's entirely cut off from the outside world. The goron elder is crushed under rocks and their economy is failing. The zora king got poisoned and he's about to die without an heir because a witch turned the fairy queen into an octorock, but the man in charge of the only cure refuses to hand it over until someone passes his tests.

Most of it is solved relatively easily by link and a copious amount of time travel, but the thing with the ruling queen only gets worse. When the evil witch invades the kingdom, she possesses the oracle of ages, naryu (who's a little implied to be the Actual Creation Goddess Naryu reincarnated) and travels back to the past to bring about an age of despair in the present. She does this by slipping into the royal court and befriending the queen as a serving girl, rising up the ranks to become her closest advisor and corrupting her (pretty sure mind control magic is used a li'l). She convinces her to restart the black tower project, pouring all of her and the towns resources into it - forcibly conscripting every able bodied worker and working them to the bone, all while monsters start to circle the tower. With all the fear and resentment, it quickly becomes a beacon of dark energy, a perfect focal point to perform black magics.

Link (and Ralph) end up in the past and get hauled in front of the queen, with possessed naryu at her side, who basically jeers at them and ensures the queen won't listen to their untrustworthy lies. The townsfolk are getting increasingly stressed as their village fills with rubble and their men are worked to the point of collapse. Armed guards start to appear to keep the workers under control. Eventually, Ralph uncovers a hole in the guard rotation, and he and link sneak into the palace through a secret entrance Ralph oh so casually knows about. Link and naryu fight, but with stupendous timing the queen walks in to see naryu collapsed on the floor, Link standing over her with a sword. She calls for the guards, but before anyone can react, the witch, banished form her first vessel, leaps into the queen herself instead. Ralph shoves past the arriving guards and into naryus arms, while link moves in from of them. The queen orders the guards to attack, but naryu, reawakened, pulls them back to the present in the nick of time. In the present, the black tower is magically growing, reaching higher and higher into the sky, terrifying the people of the city.

Then! Ralph, who at this point is suspiciously invested now his actual goal is completed and naryu is safe, vows to go back into time again, away from naryu, to live under the now evil queen and bring protection and comfort to the villagers as a direct act of resistance, because the witch is feeding on their sorrow to power an unknown ritual (link knows. Link, canonically, has told nobody). So this teen in fancy robes and cape goes back to the oppressed, poverty stricken town under the thumb if someone who wants him dead and lives there for weeks if not months dedicating himself to supporting the village and bringing people's hopes and spirits back up, presumably while living out of someone else's wooden hut. In the middle of a literal depression inducing miasma that's sapping everyone's joy and will to live.

That just. Takes insane strength of character. That's a feat of pure, distilled, compassion as anarchy.

Link's off bouncing between past and present doing dungeons and solving easier issues through either sword or magic item, but Ralph is out here doing the long hard slog for little reward.

Link finally returns to the black tower completed, affecting even the people of the present, and, preparations complete, rushes to the past. Ralph is nowhere be seen. Talking to the villagers reveals several have a crush on him, but an old man saw him running for the tower, sword drawn. There's a man pacing by the entrance, who saw the kid run in, tried to stop him. He said Ralph said that he no longer cared what happened to him. That the man realised that Ralph had quietly succumbed to the same curse of despair they all were under. Link fights his way up to the top of the tower, where Ralph confronts the evil queen, sword at her heart, but every step she takes into it, he steps back. The witch laughs. She asks him if he's really willing to write himself out of existence - being the queens descendant, and all. Ralph leaps back, into links chest. He's shaking and stuttering, but he lunges, and is knocked out in one blow. The queen now asks link the same question: is he willing to erase Ralph? If he strikes her, kills her, the queen will die, childless, and he will never live. She leaves, and link rushes to Ralph. He's awake but unresponsive, defeated. With a heavy heart, Link leaves him to chase the queen. It's naryu who finds him, brings him out of the tower.

When the witch is defeated, the curse is lifted, and Ralph is once more energetic and kind. He's a little quieter now, though, sticking close to naryu. For all he was a loud and headstrong kid, I gotta say I was very impressed.

He would have made a good king.

[atravisphilepsclicker]

dating soul head cannons??

Words: 341

Gender: Gender Nuteral

Pronouns: None Used

Warnings: Swearing

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

How You Got Together-

🎹You don’t really know how you got together. One day you guys just started acting like a couple and if someone asked you'd say you’re dating. "It just happened." That is what you tell people.

The Relationship-

🎹Soul enjoys PDA but he wouldn’t make out with you in the middle of a hallway( " That’s gross and not cool" ). His favourite thing is handholding or interlocking your pinkies together. He doesn’t know why he just gets so flustered by it.

🎹He acts all cool and calm but when you two go home he will melt into a puddle of embarrassment and love for you. Also is very clingy when you too are alone. Hed just not let go of you and he will make you drag him around.

🎹" Consent is sexy "

🎹Can’t remember shit.

🎹Will not remember any special events including anniversaries and birthdays.

🎹He has to write it down everywhere he’d look and ask multiple people to remind him of the special occasion in question.

🎹When he buys you presents he will spend a good amount of money on you even if you said you wanted it in passing hell get it for you '" cause that what cool guys do. "

🎹He’s not a fan of marriage he says he doesn’t like it because he just doesn’t like the married lifestyle but that’s not it, marrying would just make him worry if you'll separate soon. He doesn’t like that though so marriage is a big no.

🎹But he might just crack if you talk about marrying him a lot. It would be so long in the relationship that he doesn’t think that you’ll separate in the near future at least so he might just take you up on that offer of him marrying you.

🎹You cant watch any show he’s even a sliver interested in without him or hell be upset.

🎹He loves watching things with you, cuddling and coming closer if anything scary happens.

🎹Movie dates are his favourite

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

Picture:

Soul Evans- https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/839851030507134235/

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

Requests: Open

Really sorry I haven't written anything in a while! I was reading manga trying to get motivated again. If I haven't gotten to your request yet just know I am working on it I just keep changing things and switching which one I'm working on constantly so it might take a while, I am trying to do them though.

Hope you have a good day/afternoon/night and remember to stay hydrated! <3

[ambertea]

together

(read on AO3)

Day two of the Doctorrose Fic Marathon! Based on the prompt "holding hands".

“I want a job.” He announced one morning. Rose was hovering over a mirror as she lined her eyes with dark pencil. “I was thinking Torchwood.”

She stayed silent, her eyebrows furrowing as she rubbed at the mascara that had fallen under her eyes. His feet lead him to stand behind her, and he watched his nervous face reflected back at him.

“Is that okay?”

She nodded at herself in the mirror and straightened. “Talk to Pete.”

“Well, actually, I was thinking your department sounded more interesting.”

She turned and stared at him flatly.

“Tell me what my department does.”

“Alien…stuff.” He replied, rubbing at the back of his neck.

She brushed past him and his hands snatched at her wrists, quickly dropping them at the look on her face.

“Rose, please.”

Her eyes flicked to the clock behind him. “I’m running late.”

“Tomorrow, then?” He asked eagerly. She nodded.

“Tomorrow, yeah. Sure.”

The door banged behind her, and he collapsed onto the bed and let the silence taunt him once more.

It was nice, being stuck in one place, nice in a way that made his muscles tense and his fingers curl. The next-door neighbours always smiled at him when he put out the bins, and the girl at the coffee shop didn’t even ask for his order anymore, just thrust it at him with her usual dreary rage. The kids on the street all knew his name – well, one of his names – and called out to him to play football with them or help them with their homework.

Rose enjoyed it less. Everywhere she went, whispers followed. People eyed her nervously in the supermarket, would press themselves against the shelves as though she was an elephant thundering past, rather than a small human woman trying to buy milk.

Everyone he asked about it had just shrugged. Rose herself had ignored him entirely, but whether that was due to the question itself or just his presence was unclear.

He had spent three long years away from her, yet he had never missed her quite like this. She slept beside him—apparently, the only proof he had was slightly creased sheets and makeup stains on her pillows—and then would disappear with a cursory “Torchwood” thrown over her shoulder. Her phone, that was literally always in her hand, was apparently incapable of picking up his calls or answering texts, and his own only mocked him with read receipts.

He had thought she would understand this new him. He had changed his entire body before, and it was less than a day after that she had been holding his hand and snuggling into his side. It had been four months now, in this universe, four long and agonising months of sitting indoors and waiting for something to happen. Every time he looked at her, he hoped for some flood of recognition, a moment where she realised he was still him and so they ought to just get on with it.

Every day that passed brought less and less hope that that would ever happen.

“Wake up. Hey, wake up.”

He opened his eyes, blinking against the bleariness of sleep. A fan of blonde hair tickled the sides of his face, and brown eyes watched him blankly.

“Rose?”

“Come on.”

He sat up, stretching out his arms and working the kinks out of his back. The windows were dark, and the traffic outside was only loud, rather than its usual deafening. Rose folded her arms and stared down at him, and he fidgeted slightly under her gaze.

“What’s going on?”

“You wanted Torchwood. It’s time for Torchwood. Put these on,” she ordered, throwing some boots on the floor. “We need to go.”

“Right.” He said, limbs failing in his haste to stand. The room flickered with darkness for a second and he cursed stupid human blood pressure. “Where are we going?”

“Coast.”

“Which coast?” He asked, wrestling the boots onto his bare feet. Rose rolled her eyes and threw a jacket at him.

“The one next to the sea. Now come on, hurry up.”

He thrust his arms into the jacket and hurried after her retreating form. A blast of cold hair hit him like a bucket of cold water, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his sides as he shuffled forwards. Rose’s phone was at her ear, her voice hard as she barked out her instructions.

“Solomon street. Now.”

A green SUV whizzed round the corner, skidding to a stop perfectly in front of them. A young man stepped out, ginger and pale, and immediately saluted.

“Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Stewart. I’ll take it from here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The boy turned and marched down the street, picking his direction seemingly at random. Rose jumped into the drivers’ side and looked at him impatiently. He gawked at her through the window.

“What’s going on?”

“Later. C’mon.”

Her hands were white around the steering wheel, and he stared at them, feeling dread settle in his gut. The engine started up with a groan and he quickly ran around and jumped into the passenger side.

Before he could even reach for his seatbelt, the car lurched into action, and his head slapped into the headrest.

“Sorry,” Rose mumbled, her eyes not moving from the road as the speed only went up. He nodded frantically, quickly securing himself and then gripping tightly at the edges of the chair.

“Where are we going?” He asked, voice unnaturally high. For a moment, he thought he saw her mouth curve upwards, but within a second it was back to the same flat mask.

“Where do you think?” She scoffed. “Where else? Bad Wolf Bay.”

Their journey to Norway passed in heavy silences that were only occasionally broken by questions that Rose only ignored. He fiddled relentlessly with the cuffs of his shirt and tried to calm his stupid single heart, that pounded and screamed in his ears.

This, more than anything else, was what he hated about this world – he was never in control here, never understood what he should be doing, or what he should say. He never used to care about that stuff before. His life had always been spontaneous, he had prided himself on it in some sick, sad way, but all he could long for now was a sliver of certainty.

Was this how she would finally dump him? On the very beach they were headed towards, she had kissed him, and at the time it had felt like a hello. It seemed now it had been more of a goodbye. He had always known Rose, could always reliably understand what was going through her head at any given point. The woman he had been left with seemed like someone else entirely. A stranger, with the face of the woman he loved the most.

His whole species had died – all his family, all his friends. But this loneliness was far more insidious and hung heavily in the space between his bones.

“We’re here,” Rose said, and he startled. She jumped out of her seat and walked round to his door, flinging it open. He watched her eyes staring carefully at the space between his eyebrows. “Come on.”

“I don’t want to.”

“What, you think I’m going to drown you?”

“Well, I do now.”

She sighed. "I’m not. I promise you’re going to want to see this.”

He gazed at her, trying to understand what was behind the tense line of her mouth and her unwavering stare. Nothing revealed itself.

Unclipping his belt, he got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Rose reached out, grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards the beach.

It was hushed, only the angry crash of the waves breaking the idyllic landscape. His eyes flickered towards where it happened – where the TARDIS had landed and stranded him in this world of mystifying social cues and angry faces.

Her hand was clasped around his own tightly, as though trying to stop him from running away, but that was the last thing on his mind. It had been so long since he had held her hand. It was as comforting as it was devastating.

“Before the stars started going out,” Rose whispered, her soft voice carrying through the wind. “I was working on a way to get back.”

“The dimension canon.”

“Yeah, but other things too. We dumped them all when the canon started working.”

Her face was sad, wistful even and he squeezed her hand tightly. She startled, looking up at him, and he was alarmed by the wetness of her eyes.

“And?”

“And I’ve been working on one of them. Since…since we came back.”

His heart had literally leapt into the back of his throat. It was the only plausible explanation for the lack of air, for the way his whole body was screaming at him to go, to get out now. He hung his head and kicked at the sand.

“This is where the walls are weakest. We made a sort of, um, portal. You can just step through, see.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. With a tap of a key, a bright swirl opened around them, wind whipping around it angrily. He stepped back and pulled her with him.

“It’s not possible.”

“Same phone you gave me. Energy source from the original universe. Battery never runs out, so—”

“—so it has the power to send you back.” He finished darkly. She shook her head.

“No. Enough power to send you back.”

He thrust away from her hand and stared at her. She had tears running down her cheeks, and her eyes were wide and sad.

“No.”

“You’re not happy here.” She whispered, pulling on her earring.

“Neither are you.”

“No.” She agreed with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Rose,” he said desperately, clutching at her hands again, pressing his body as closely to hers as he could. “Rose, no. Please. I’m still the Doctor. I swear—the exact same man. I want to be here with you.”

Her hand came up and rested lightly on his cheek. He leaned into it, kissing her palm, greedily clutching at this small token of affection.

“I know,” she whispered. “Exact same man.”

“Yes! I’m him; I am exactly him—”

“The same man who left me on this beach.”

The wind from the portal settled. The sea calmed. Silence reigned.

“I stayed with you.”

“But left, as well.”

He was still clutching at her. His hands snaked around the back of her neck, pulling her forehead to his. Rose’s eyes were tightly shut. His were wide and searching.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered to her, and she only squeezed her eyes tighter, mascara leaking from her eyelashes.

“You left me, again. You didn’t even say goodbye. Why do you never say goodbye?”

“Rose—”

“I did everything I could do get back to you. Everything. Terrible things. But—” She opened her eyes and stared at him with open devastation. “You didn’t want me.”

“Of course, I did, I do.” he whispered. She ignored him.

“You just—left you here. To deal with me. To stop me trying to come back again, or whatever.” She cleared her throat and stepped out of his embrace and rubbed angrily at her eyes. “But it’s okay. I’ll stay here. I want you to be happy.”

“Rose, please.” He begged, voice breaking. He tried to grab her hand again, but she was stepping away from his embrace, arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I want to be with you. I told you, didn’t I?”

“You said you could spend your life with me.”

“Yes—yes—please. I want that. I swear I want that. He had to go; you know he had to. But I,” his face broke into a tiny, happy smile. “I got to stay.”

She stepped forwards cautiously, her hands shaking. He stayed as still as he could, resisting the urge to pull her tightly into his arms.

“You were dumped here too. You didn’t get a choice, either.” She whispered. He smiled and gently took her hand.

“I didn’t need a choice. My answer will always be you.”

She flung herself into his arms, and he clung to her desperately, nuzzling his face into her hair. Her hands were everywhere – along his back, down his arms, his neck. They clutched at his jaw and he pulled back, just a little, so he could take her in properly. There was still pain splashed across her face, but a cautious hope lit up her eyes.

“I love you.” He whispered. “Please let me.”

“Okay.” She whispered back.

She untangled herself from his embrace, and pulled out her phone, closing the portal as quickly as she’d opened it.

He offered out his hand, and she took it, a smile playing across her face.

“Together?”

“Together.” She nodded.

He pulled her away from the beach, feeling, for the first time in months, that they might just be okay.

[seungmoroll]

Heather | Hwang Hyunjin

Word count: 3.8k

Genre & tags: angst, dance team au, brother!Minho, mentions of other idols

A/N: this is the 4th part of the Heather series, you can read the others here.

Shining through the city with a little funk and soul

I’ma light it up like dynamite, whoa

Pants could be heard from all around the room showcasing the hard work and dedication everyone had put into the dance. Your eyes filled with awe as you sit off to the side. After 5 seconds of listening to their tired pants, you stand up and bust out in applaud, and soon the rest of them join you.

“You guys looked amazing! That was the best run so far. There’s no way any other team can beat you guys this Friday.” The looks and smiles on their faces let you know that they’re thankful for your words. However, you don’t have enough time to fully appreciate the moment as a body crashes into yours, forcing you back onto the sofa.

“Ugh, get off of me Minho.” Unfortunately for you, your attempt to push him off only makes him put even more of his weight on top of you.

“Can’t you let your tired brother rest for a moment?” You had the pleasure, note the sarcasm, of calling Minho your brother. You swear it’s his life mission to annoy you, however, there are perks of having him as your brother. One of them being that he has to drive you around everywhere, and another one being that you get to hang out at the dance studio that Minho goes to, which means you get to see your favorite people in the world. Speaking of favorite people, the sound of heavenly laughter fills your ears, and you turn to see Hyunjin laughing at yours and Minho’s antics. Gaining enough strength thanks to Hyunjin’s beautiful laugh, you manage to push Minho off of you, making him land on the sofa next to you with a groan.

“Gosh Minho, your big butt was suffocating me.”

“So, you admit I got a big butt?” All you want to do is knock the cockiness off his face, but you choose to be good, since Hyunjin was only a few feet away.

“You’re insufferable.”

Plopping himself on the sofa next to you, Hyunjin says, “I’m surprised you two haven’t killed each other yet.”

“Our mom says we can only kill each other after 10pm.” Is what you and Minho say synchronously, causing for laughter to erupt from Hyunjin.

“You guys are basically the same person.” Taking offense to his comment, you playfully smack him, “Don’t insult me like that.”

“Ow, you can’t hit precious things like me.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics. A year ago, if someone were to tell you that you would’ve had feelings for Hwang Hyunjin, you would’ve laughed in their face.

Hyunjin was an interesting character, not everyone realized that. Everyone only saw him for his exterior; they only focused on his visuals. Yes, you agree that he’s handsome, heck, you were sure that he sparkled sometimes, but that’s not what made you like him. Behind his looks, was someone that was so in touch with his feelings and wasn’t afraid to show them. One night, you had to go to the dance studio and wait for Minho who was helping Hyunjin with a dance, and before you had barged into the practice room, you saw Hyunjin and Minho sitting on the ground with Hyunjin crying his eyes out. He was crying because he was stressed out and he just needed to release everything. You didn’t make your presence known, but instead you watched as your brother comforted him. That’s when your perception of him changed; he wasn’t the mysterious beauty you thought he was.

“You’re coming with us after the competition, right?” It was tradition for the team to get a meal together after a dance competition.

“Duh, Minho’s my ride home.” That wasn’t your only reason why you were going. You actually enjoyed hanging out with the team.

“Good, I like it when you hang out with all of us.” His statement makes you blush, and you hope that Hyunjin doesn’t realize it’s because of him. From your other side you hear Minho scoff, making you smack him in the chest.

“You’re still doing my hair, right?” Ever since Hyunjin started growing out his hair, he’s been finding out new ways to style it, and that meant you doing his hair.

“Of course, can’t have you looking like a hot mess in front of a large audience.” It didn’t matter what his hair looked like; he’d still look good.

“So you think I’m hot?” Hyunjin asks with a teasing smirk.

“Psh, what, no.” He raises an eyebrow at you as you attempt to form a sentence, “But you’re not ugly either, you’re, you’re…fine yes you’re hot…or whatever.” The sound of his laughter fills your ears and you can’t help but want to record it to listen to it all the time.

“I’m just messing with you, Y/n.” He gently ruffles your hair, “It’s so fun to mess with you.”

Huffing, “I disagree.”

“Well I agree.” Minho butts in. More laughter comes from Hyunjin as you launch yourself at Minho.

A few days later and it’s the night of the competition. You and The Snipers are in the dressing rooms getting ready. Because the dance had more of a fun theme, you and Hyunjin had agreed to add a little bit of pop to his hair. As you started to braid small sections of his hair, you added some colorful beads. You can feel Hyunjin’s stare on you through the mirror and you hope that he doesn’t notice the nervous tremors in your hands.

    “You better make sure I look good Y/n.”

    “When do you not look good?” Covering up your mouth, you couldn’t believe that you had let that slip out.

    “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

    Playfully shoving at his shoulder, “Hey, you say that like as if I’m not nice all the time.”

    “You’re the devil, of course you’re not nice.” Minho butts in. If looks could kill, you were sure Minho would be a goner.

    “I want you to keep your eyes on me tonight, Y/n.” Hyunjin’s bold statement makes your heart skip a beat.

    “What? Why?” There was no reason for Hyunjin to say this to you.

    “Because I’m the only one you should look at.” His sentence sounds whinier than it does serious, but you see it as a sliver of hope that shines for you.

    “Yah,” Minho starts, smacking Hyunjin in the back of the head, “They’re my sibling, they should be focused on me, plus it’s my last dance with you guys.”

    “Oh boohoo, Y/n has seen you dance plenty of times. They should have something that’s more eye catching to look at this time.” Another smack is landed on the back of Hyunjin’s head.

    “Yah, stop that Minho. You’re ruining my masterpiece.”

    “See, Y/n thinks I’m a masterpiece.”

    Scrunching your nose, “Not you, your hair.”

    “My hair is a part of me; therefore, I am a masterpiece.” You couldn’t disagree with him, however, being you, you have to say something a bit insulting.

    “Why is everyone on this dance team delusional?” You feel a pair of eyes on you and you instantly say, “Not you Felix, you’re a wonderful human being.” This time it’s you who gets the smack to the back of the head, but it doesn’t matter because you got to see Felix’s beautiful smile.

“Hey, why do you like Felix more than me?” ‘Oh Hyunjin, you big idiot. If only you knew.’ Minho snorts at Hyunjin’s question, and you send him another life-threatening glare. Minho knew about your feelings for Hyunjin, he wasn’t blind. He’d send you teasing glances every chance that he got, but you were thankful that he never brought it up to Hyunjin. To be honest, he thinks you could do better, but you think he only says that because Hyunjin is his friend.

    Deciding to mess with Hyunjin a little bit, you respond, “Because Felix is precious.” A pout settles on Hyunjin’s face and you swear that it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Though you do have to say that the smile and hearts Felix sends you is almost as cute.

    “Oof, Hyunjin looks like you don’t have everyone wrapped around your finger, isn’t that right Y/n?” Jeno says, poking fun at Hyunjin.

    “Nah, I know Y/n has heart eyes for me.” Hyunjin playfully winks at you, and you hate the way your heart did somersaults in your chest.

    “You wish Hwang.”

After the team had left to get ready to go on stage, you went on your way to find a seat in the audience. While searching for a seat with the best view of the stage, you see an individual frantically waving at you. Squinting to see who it is, you recognize the person as Jungeun, an acquaintance you made thanks to the dance team. Jungeun, or better known as Kim Lip on stage, was part of a different dance team and you guys happened to meet at a different dance competition. You were on your way to your seat after doing last minute touchups to Hyunjin’s hair, when you saw that she needed help fixing her hair, so you lent her a helping hand. From then on, you guys would say hi to each other every time you saw one another.

Reaching Jungeun, you are pulled into a hug, “Hey, I didn’t know you were going to be here.” There was no indication that Jungeun’s dance team was competing tonight.

“Oh, I was invited to come, plus I wanted to watch the competition anyways.” To you, her answer seemed normal since she was a dancer after all, so you didn’t bother to question it any further. Though you did want to know if you knew the person who invited her, but you guys weren’t close enough for you to ask.

“Do you have a seat already?” Jungeun asks.

“No, I was just about to look for one.”

“Oh you can sit with me!” She offers you the vacant seat next to her, and you kindly accept it; one, because it had a nice view of the stage, and two, because you didn’t like sitting by yourself.

“This is your brothers last competition, right? I heard he was going to be a backup dancer for a boy group.” You weren’t surprised that she knew of this. Practically everyone in the dance scene here in your city knew of Minho, so of course word would spread about his new position.

“Yeah, it is. He wanted his last dance with The Snipers to be amazing, so him and the others put so much work into this performance.” If you were forced to compliment Minho, the one thing that you could say that wouldn’t make you gag was that he was passionate. He gave it his all for every dance he’s done, which is why no one was surprised when he told you that he was going to be a backup dancer for a big idol group. Since he always gave 110% effort in his dances, for this performance everyone else gave 120% effort to have one last win for Minho. Honestly, you were confused when the team decided to dance to Dynamite by BTS because you would’ve thought that they would’ve wanted something more intense, but their reasoning was that they wanted to have fun on stage with Minho for one last time.

“Hey, I think the team is about to perform.” Jungeun points towards the stage, and you see the familiar figures of the dance team. Minho is front and center, but your eyes travel towards Hyunjin, who’s on Minho’s left. Sitting there in the audience, you anxiously wait for the music to start. This was the last time your brother was going to be dancing with this team before he goes off on tour as a backup dancer, and you just hope this doesn’t mean that this will be the last time you watch the team dance.

Once the music starts playing, you block out everything else around you and focus on the dance. You’ve seen this dance so many times, but every time you become mesmerized with their moves. It’s refreshing to see them dance with this concept, and you’re loving the way everyone’s expression is showing that they’re having fun on the stage. Like Hyunjin wanted, you kept your eyes on him, watching him do the moves like they were nothing. Though, you did tear your eyes away from him to watch Felix do that one flip that makes you worried all the time, and to watch Minho’s solo. Aside from those instances, your eyes were glued to Hyunjin. If you were to describe his movements, you would say he was like water. Every single move he made was elegant and flowed nicely.

Once the performance had ended, you quickly stood up and loudly cheered for them, and you didn’t miss the moment when you caught Hyunjin’s eyes and he sent you a wink. This only caused for you to cheer for them even louder. Watching them leave, you dismiss yourself from Jungeun, and make your way back to the team. As soon as you reach the boys, you instantly pull Minho into a hug, “You guys were phenomenal. You had the whole audience cheering for you.” Pulling back from your brother, a different pair of arms wrap around you.

“Thanks Y/n.” Taking this moment as a chance, you tightly hug Hyunjin.

Your time with the team is cut short as they’re called back onto the stage for the announcement of the results. Making your way back to your seat, you nervously wait for the announcements to begin.

“Alrighty everyone, are you guys ready for the announcements?” Cheers fill up the auditorium as everyone wants to know the results.

“I guess that settles it, starting off with 10th place…” There were only a total of 15 dance teams, so there was a very high chance that The Snipers at least placed. When the MC announced a different team as 10th, you let out a big sigh, and you could hear Jungeun chuckle at you, but you chose to ignore it, focusing your attention on the MC. Every time the MC announces the placement of a team, you become even more anxious because now third place was about to get announced and the team hasn’t been announced yet.

“And in third place, we have…Trailblazers!”

“You and the others must be nervous.” You can only shake your head as response to Jungeun.

“Coming in second place, we have…Revolution X!” You had thought Revolution X’s performance was good especially with Kino’s solo, but not as great as The Snipers of course. The Snipers thought of Revolution X as their major competition, so maybe they had a chance at getting first.

“And last, but certainly not least, coming in first, we have…drum roll please.” The auditorium fills up with the sound of beats as everyone is anticipating the winners.

“The Snipers!” They did it, they won. You jump out your seat and loudly cheer for your boys. On stage the team is all huddled up together with Minho in the center, jumping up and down, and you wish that you could join in with them, but you’re also alright with just watching them from the sidelines, like always.

Instead of meeting in the dressing room, you meet up with the team outside in the parking lot. Jungeun had tagged along with you, which you didn’t mind since she knew the members of the team. Upon seeing the team, you run towards them, jumping on your brothers back.

“You guys did it! I told you, you were going to win!”

“Alright, alright. I just won and you’re already trying to kill me, get off.” Hesitantly, you get off of Minho’s back, but you don’t miss the smile that’s on his face, so it makes up for it. Your vision darkens when you feel something on top of your head cover your eyes, pulling up the unknown object, you see Hyunjin smiling brightly at you. Realizing that the object was Hyunjin’s bucket hat, you adjust it to sit right on your head as Hyunjin exclaims to you, “We did it, Y/n. We got first!” He then grabs onto your forearms and makes you jump around with him. The sounds of yours and his laughs are mixed together, and it makes you feel light on your feet. Eventually the two of you settle down, and Hyunjin finally realizes that there was someone behind you.

“Jungeun!” Leaving your side, Hyunjin goes off to talk to her. Before you can even think of anything, you’re being whisked away by your brother, “C’mon slow poke, we got to get going to the restaurant.” You don’t even manage to bid a goodbye to Jungeun as your brother pulls you towards his car.

You and Minho were the first ones to arrive at the restaurant, going up to claim your reservation. One by one the members of the team, came in filling up the seats at the tables. So far, the seat in front of you remained empty, and you hoped that Hyunjin was going to occupy it. When Hyunjin arrives at the restaurant, you see that he’s brought a surprise with him.

“Hey guys, you know Jungeun. It’s okay if she hangs out with us, right?”

“The more the merrier,” someone who you can’t register says, as you try to figure out why Jungeun had come. The seat in front of you becomes occupied by Jungeun as Hyunjin grabs another chair and sets it to the right of her. ‘Ah, he’s such a gentleman.’ Though, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed that he didn’t sit in front of you. 

The dinner was amazing, and you weren’t talking about the food. Everyone was in such a good mood that you didn’t even realize that you guys had been sitting at the restaurant for almost two hours. San is in the middle of telling a story about the disaster of time when him and Wooyoung went on a double date when Hyunjin got up from his seat.

“Hey guys, I’m gonna head out early.” He motions towards Jungeun who has also gotten up from her seat and that’s when reality hits you. Hyunjin was the one that invited Jungeun to come out tonight. He was winking at her, not you. You never had a chance with Hyunjin. There will always be girls like Jungeun and guys like Hyunjin want girls like her, not you. In Hyunjin’s eyes, you’ll always just be Minho’s sibling, the person that just tags along with the dance team. Any chance of hope that you thought you had didn’t exist. Hyunjin was just being Hyunjin. He was just being playful with you without realizing the things that he did to you.

Now that you think about it, you couldn’t believe you missed the signals; more like you chose to ignore them. You can’t say that you missed the small interactions that the two had at every dance competition, like this one time you were looking for Minho, but when you turned the corner Jungeun was leaning against the wall while Hyunjin had a hand propped up against the same wall next to her. You had just tried to explain to yourself that they were just having a normal conversation. Or that one time, you saw a familiar sweater Jungeun had on and assumed that they just had the same sweater. For every situation you had made an excuse to calm your delusional mind, but now as you sit there in the middle of the restaurant and watch the two of them, you can’t ignore the painful feeling in your chest that’s starting to form.

“Boo, can’t you spend a different night with your girl? This will our last time hanging out with this group.”

“Oh leave him be Wooyoung, you’re just jealous that he has someone and you don’t.” San says.

“And if I am?” His question makes everyone, but you laugh. That’s just because you’re too focused on Hyunjin.

“I’ll take you out another night Wooyoung, don’t worry.” Hyunjin sends Wooyoung a wink, and in returns he gets a flying kiss.

Laughing, “Anyways, we’re going to go. Don’t have to much fun without me.”

“Bye guys!” Jungeun bids the rest of you goodbye before she walks out the door Hyunjin is holding for her.

Your eyes follow the couple through the window as they walk away from the restaurant, and you wish that you could say that you didn’t see the way he playfully wrapped his arm around her. Gone from your line of vision, you tear your eyes away from the window and tune yourself back into the story San is telling the others. However, the image of Hyunjin with Jungeun is the only thing going through your mind, so you can’t even bother to focus at all. Instead you choose to swirl your straw around in your drink, doing all you can to think of something else.

“Are you okay?” Minho’s soft voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, uh yeah, I’m fine,” you answer indifferently.

Nudging you with his elbow, he gives you a concerned look, and in that instance, you felt like you wanted to cry even more because now your brother was worried about you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin what is supposed to be a good night for him. “You want to go home?”

Shaking your head, “No, you shouldn’t have to leave early because of me, you should be celebrating with the rest of the team.”

“Y/n, you’re my sibling. You come first, no matter what and I can tell that you’re not okay. C’mon get up.” You and Minho had weird ways of showing it, but when it comes down to moments like these, you knew that you two loved each other. Hyunjin may be unobtainable, but as long as you had Minho by your side, you knew you would be fine.

As the two of you get up, Minho speaks to the rest of the team, “I’m sorry guys, but the life of the party is going to have to leave early, something came up.” The group boos at him, but eventually lets him leave. Silently, you bid the others goodbye, ignoring the concerned look Felix gives you.

The ride back home is silent, which is how you preferred it because you think if Minho had mentioned anything that you would’ve been full on sobbing, and that’s something you’d rather save for your pillowcase. You were 100% sure that Minho knew about Hyunjin and Jungeun, and you’re not sure if you’re glad that he didn’t tell you earlier or not. You know he had the best intentions. Looking out the window, you watch as the lights flash by and you internally laugh at yourself. You look like someone who’s in a sad music video, ‘pathetic.’

A/N: we’re half way through the series, yay! I've never seen anyone mention Kim Lip as a “heather” but I love her and think she would be one, so I had to include her. like always, feel free to let me know what you guys think

[oh-styles]

Something About a Beginning: Part II

First off, I want to thank each and every one of you for your immense patience. (More so than others, but I digress.) Writing on such topics when you yourself aren’t in the most healthiest mentality is a struggle alone, but we got here. 

Second off, if you haven’t read the first part, you can so here. These chapters implicate bouts of depression and talks of miscarriage, so read at your own will. 

I do want to note that I mention Robin in this story, and I was hesitant to include him because I felt it wasn’t appropriate, because he shouldn’t be used as entertainment purposes (i.e. in stories) but I mention him only with love and respect.

Again, thank you for your patience, and happy reading.

July 3, 2019 London, England

Harry lost his girl.

She vanished in the night – gone with the wind – and all that remained was a ghost of a woman, transparent and bleak. He hasn’t seen her smile since that night, coming close to a week now, and his gut retches at the thought he might never get his girl back.

She’s buried herself in the sheets; the window is opened a crack, and he spots an empty bottle of melatonin laying overturned on her bedside table. He stares intently at her body, watching as the sheets rise and fall to the pattern of her placid breathing, and he thinks for a moment that she’s finally found herself a better place. Not dead—not by any means. Whatever dream world she has found herself delved in, he knows she might have found a sliver of peace there, hopefully smiling.

“She’s sleeping, mum.” Harry says into his phone, taking a step back to gently close the bedroom door. “Rande and Cindy invited us to Muskoka but…” His words hung in the air, like the elephant in the room, but his mother knew all too well what was lingering on the precipice of her sons’ tongue.

But she’s too depressed.

But she can’t go a day without crying.

But I don’t think she has the energy to leave the house.

It’s been four days since the attack, and Harry hasn’t seen her take a step outside of their bedroom.

“Love, she’s wasting away in there. It might help her a little to get out, get some sun…”

“Mum, I can’t even get her to sit in the fucking garden.” He can hear his mother’s nettled sigh on the other end of the line, but how can anyone expect him to put her on a mother fucking airplane if she can’t even bother to walk the 30 meters to the fucking garden? “The sodding paps were outside the house last night.”

“They can’t—”

“I’m aware.” He begins to descend his way down the stairs, stopping to peer out from the front window – an old, worn out habit. “I think it’s best we get away for a bit. The story hasn’t died down… I think it’ll help—getting away. They won’t bother us there.”

Harry knew your answer before he even had the chance to ask; he knew he was wasting his time in even suggesting such a thing, but the guilt would eat away at him if he didn’t even try.

“Muskoka…Canada, remember? We went there last year.” He sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand over the sheets where a peek of your shoulder laid exposed. “It’ll be quiet. Nobody there to bug us. If you want to just hang out in the hotel room the whole time, I’d be fine with that. It’s just…”

I can’t stand to see you burrowed away another day.

“I’m really worried about you… I’m just trying to help.” He was powerless, and he knew it. He couldn’t take her by the arm and force her on a plane, but god forbid he try his damned hardest. “No paps, nobody. I promise. I wouldn’t take you there if it wasn’t safe.”

He feels a stir beneath him, and from underneath the covers, a small hand inches outward and lays upward, a silent plea for intimacy—a piece of familiarity he hasn’t touched in days. He reaches out and clasps her hand in his, and readjusts himself to lay beside her.

“You can think about it. I don’t need an answer this second, but give it a day or two, okay?”

He sees her nod, and her eyes blink open to meet his, only for a second, before they are closed once again for the remainder of the night.

*

July 6, 2019 Ontario, Canada

Muskoka came and went. Nothing advantageous to really capture your attention, though you kept your head nestled low in a book for most of your stay. You tossed a couple Stephen King novels into your bags without much thought, and by the time your trip was coming to an end, you had already completed one and started another.

A photo made its rounds online of you at dinner with Harry, Rande and Cindy, and even thinking back to that night, you couldn’t recount a time where you felt a pair of eyes boring at your table. You think it might be because you paid more attention to the drink menu than your friends, but you digressed. They only saw the back of your head, and not even the photographer mentioned you. You were also mistaken for Kaia on a couple occasions.

After Muskoka, you were back in London, and not much later Harry would be jetting off to Italy for Google Camp, and a few days after that, he was set to fly to Mexico for a video shoot. He was redundant to go, and even called Jeff to see if they could reschedule, but that would cause a delay for the next video they’d film only a week later. He asked if you wanted to join him, and you kindly declined. You were much aware of his past video sets, and how common it was to see photos and videos leaked online, and you were far from interested to be included.

You were much happier to find yourself under the watchful eyes of Anne Twist.

“I can meet you in Scotland if I’m feeling up to it.” You knew it was a scorching lie crawling right off your tongue, but if it meant he carried some hope with him, then you would feed him whatever white lies you could muster. Even Anne knew better than to believe you.

“I think Canada was good for you, love, but you need some rest, too. Can’t be travelling all over the bloody world, now, can you?”

It was a nice feeling to know she had your back.

In another life would a little green monster be envious of missing such a trip to Cancun, but the only desires you had were sitting in Anne’s garden being force fed a steady cup a tea and a plate of biscuits.

Anne didn’t pry; she knew well what you needed, but she would be keeping her sons promise on keeping you safe, and she knew there was no safer place for you to be.

It was August now, and the heat felt suffocating. You and Anne spent your mornings walking to the bakery her son once worked in, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading to the park. You would pick off pieces of your croissant and toss it at the squirrels, but you almost always scared them off. Anne told stories of when Harry was a child, and how he once tried to tell her Gemma was a drug dealer.

“She was only a child,” she hummed, laughing into her coffee. “But he was always a character to have around.”

“I feel like…between you and me, right?” You could hear in the distance the sound of a goose honking and a group of children wailing, running away. “I just…don’t want to upset him.”

Anne reached over and took your hand in hers. “Anything you say is always safe with me, love.”

“I’m mad he left me here.” There was a short beat, but you could feel your throat close, and that anger begin to well up in your chest. “This…this is also…”

“I know, love.” She scooted closer, squeezing your hand. “Everyone has their own ways of dealing with grief. Harry isn’t good at sitting around… Even when Robin passed, he didn’t like to sit. He needed to go do something.”

You remember, and yet you still recall him lying on his mother’s couch in tears. You don’t think he’s cried since the two of you left the hospital a couple weeks ago.

“He loves you, darling. He calls me every day to check in on you. Don’t think for a second he doesn’t care.”

Even with her words, you felt something was missing.

*

Harry was only in Scotland for a couple days before he was finally home, but it wouldn’t be long before he would be venturing off to Italy – again – for another work-related conquest. You weren’t sure why he was so content with country hopping every couple of weeks instead of resting at home with you, but you didn’t bother bludgeoning him with questions.

“After I’m through with Italy—I won’t even be there a day—I’ll be back home, but a couple weeks later, I have to go to LA for some meetings… I’d like you to come, if that’s okay.”

Again. There’s always something. It must be so fucking difficult to stay in one place for more than a couple weeks with your grieving girlfriend.

“Also…I was meaning to ask you. Ariana is in town in a few days… Wanted to know if you wanted to come with me and the guys… I think it’ll be fun.”

“Your child died a month ago and you want to go to a fucking Ariana Grande concert.” The words fell helplessly from you, but it was weeks of anguish and neglect that hit its final tier, and you were quite tired of hanging on. “Tell me….how does that make sense to you?”

“Excuse me?” For the first time that night, he looked at you. All before, he found excuses to shift his glances to anything but you, maybe in fear of reality finally hitting him in the face with what he’s been running from for weeks, but for the first time that night, he bared his eyes down at you, and his mouth fell open.

“I’m sorry—have I been hallucinating you just picking your shit up and leaving every chance you get?”

“I’ve had work—” He took to his feet, swiftly flinging his hand out to close the lid of his luggage.

“Any normal person—I swear, any normal person would stay home, and fucking grieve, except you, who wants to fucking fly everywhere and work, because that would require facing his fucking prob—”

“I have a job—I know it’s hard for you to relate to that, but I have commitments—”

“And what am I then? If not a commitment, then what, Harry?”

“You are a commitment—”

“Then where have you been? Why have I been staying with your mother? I know you invited me to go with you, but I shouldn’t have to. I’m fucking hurting, Harry! I don’t want to go to Cancun and Italy—I want to be here with you. Do you know how fucking hard it’s been dealing with this without you here?”

For once, he was silent, but he shifted on his feet.

“You haven’t cried. Not since the hospital. I can’t count how many times I’ve cried, and you sit around texting your band or going to video shoots… If you feel nothing—no grief or anything…if you didn’t even want the baby, just tell me. Make this easier on me, please.”

“How the fuck can you say that I didn’t want the baby? My heart is fucking hurt!”

“Then act like it!”

“You really think I can sit around every day and watch you fall apart? I have to be the strong one… If it can’t be you, then it has to be me, and I don’t like watching you hurt.”

“You know…you sometimes have a really shitty way showing people you care about them.”

You stood there, arms folded in resistance, and he couldn’t take his eyes from off the floor. He felt cornered, and he was defenseless with nothing else left to give. His bags still laid on the bed, clothes scattered over the sheets ready to be put up, and you knew this room was no place for you. Your purse was downstairs, and your phone in your pocket.

“I’m going to stay with Gemma tonight. I’ll have her pick me up. Please don’t follow me out.” 

*

She’s always been the quiet one.

The first time she met you, at a family gathering you were reluctant to attend despite the persistent reassurance from your other half, she knew from the moment she saw you that you were different from all the others. You held yourself different, much shorter, like you knew you could never become the center of attention.

You studied the room, holding onto Harry’s hand as he introduced you to his mother, and that’s when Gemma appeared from over her mother’s shoulder.

“About time I meet you,” she chuckled, reaching her hand out. “I’m Gemma.”

She watches you now from the edge of the driveway, sitting on the steps of the porch with only the light above you illuminating your surroundings. From behind you, she spotted the silhouette of her brother peeking through the curtains, keeping a close eye for just in case.

Your track record wasn’t a good one.

As she approaches, you perk your head up with a sigh of relief. For the first time, she was the Styles you nothing but needed.

“Come on, Magoo,” she chirps as she finally reaches you, lifting her hand out for you to take. “We can hit the McDonald’s drive-thru.”

Laura Nyro played over her car stereo, a melodious tune you recall hearing once before on a long drive in Cheshire. You shut your eyes, and the memory floods you like a storm, like a stampede parading across your chest, and you lean over to rest your head on the window.

Gemma reached her hand over to find yours, giving it three squeezes of solace.

I. Love. You.

The cut that was tucked away in your hairline was in its last stages of healing, and a scar would most certainly take its place. You always felt the erratic throbbing, like a little reminder that no matter how far you run, your problems will always be chasing you like the devil.

“Did I make a mistake?”

Gemma turned her attention from the road, lifting your hand up with hers, and planting a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“No, Magoo. I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re dating a dumbass.” She heard a muted hum in response. “Nobody is perfect… Not even that shithead. I can see where he thought what he was doing was okay, because he was sacrificing his feelings for you, but… that’s just not how you do it.”

You could drink to that.

Gemma spotted the golden arches and took a left at the light. “I’m glad you texted me… Haven’t had a bloody girl’s night in ages. It sucks under the circumstances but…” She turned back to you with a wink. “I’ll take what I can get.”

On the journey back to her flat, you pleasantly sipped at your chocolate milkshake and tapped your feet to the music, and even sporadically hummed along to the few chords you knew. It really didn’t take much to please you.

Gemma was never gifted a sister as a child. Though, she did want one, and was thoroughly distraught when her mother brought home a brother all those years ago, she did grow accustomed and grew to love the curly haired boy who she would then share with the world. But the girl beside her, who slurped her drink and choked behind a laugh of a joke about a time traveler who walks into a bar, had burrowed herself deep within her heart, much like she does with any counterpart she meets.

It’s incredibly difficult not to meet this girl and not hold some sort of placement in her life. Her heart is massive, but the love she radiates is gracious and touches anyone who dares get too close.

And the love Gemma has for her is just as the same.

Michal was asleep when the two of you arrived; you knew your way around, and confidently walked to the spare room down the hall, last door on the right. Gemma trailed behind you, holding your milkshake as you flipped on the light, and kicked off your shoes.

Olivia was already sprawled out over the comforter.

“Could you stay with me, tonight?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice, babe.” Gemma smirked, setting your drink down on the bedside table. “Have you ate?”

You shook your head, even trying to recall if you had mustered an appetite to have some breakfast, but even then you think you took a couple bites out of an apple and forgot about it.

“I’ll make you something—actually, Michal and I have spinach ravioli left over… Want me to heat some of that up for you?”

You graciously nodded. “You’re too good for me.”

“I just love you is all.”

The next morning, the spot beside you was visibly vacant, and from down the hall you could vaguely hear a low, sullen voice talking over the sound of the television. Gemma fired back in response, and from your feet, Olivia peeked her head from the covers, turning towards the disrupting noise.

“Let her sleep—she’s exhausted—”

“Just give me five bloody minutes!”

You knew any chance of sleep you wish you had was far gone.

“I’m up—just fucking talk!” You hollered into your pillow, your eyes still adjusting to the sunlight cascading into the room. You could guess it wasn’t any later than nine that morning, and before you had a moment to check, his unquestionable footsteps neared your door, and you heard a light tap. “I’m obviously awake.”

After you walked out the night before, he ignored your wishes and followed you downstairs where the shortest reaction he got from you was the front door slamming in his face.

“Can I talk?”

I don’t know, can you?

“You literally came here and woke me up from some incredible sleep, mind you, and you’re asking me if you can talk.” He was in a blind panic and darted his eyes around the room. “Well, talk.”

“I’m a fucking twat, I know this. It’s inexcusable what I did—what I put you through—it was selfish—I’m so fucking selfish—I can’t fucking deal with this kind of stuff, and I’m a bloody twat for leaving you because I can’t handle it. It’s cowar—I’m a coward! I can’t face shit—and I love you so much, and I left you… I’m so sorry, please believe me. I’m such a twat—"

“Shut up, please—you’re giving me a migraine.” You held up a single finger as you adjusted yourself in bed. “Look, I don’t even know how early it is, and you know how much I hate mornings.”

“I know, but…I didn’t want to wait until the afternoon to talk to you.”

“That’s fair.”

“It’s 10:30 by the way.”

“Did you practice that speech in your car, or did you just wing it?”

While you were in bed with Gemma, watching King of the Hill on her iPad, Harry resided to his office where he spent much of the evening hunched over his journal, scrawling out endless messages to you about how much of a wanker he is, and by the time the sun began to rise, he had his eyes in his hand and began waiting for an appropriate time to come and see you.

“I…thought a little bit about it, yeah.”

“You really hurt me, alright? It’s not something I can just forget because you said you were sorry. When I needed you the most, you weren’t there. What kind of partner is that?” He stood silent in his spot; his hands dug deep into his trousers. Suddenly, he was a little boy again getting scolded by his mother. “I had your mom, I had Gemma, but not you. The only person I needed. I get this wasn’t part of the plan, and we got our hearts broken, but that doesn’t give you the right to run off because you can’t handle seeing me upset.”

Olivia stretched her limbs out over the covers, purring against the sheets.

“I appreciate you coming, I really do. This isn’t something I can just forget and move on from. I want to work on this, but it’s going to take time… I still love you though.”

*

September 19, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Your shirt looks like amebae under a microscope.”

He stifled a grunt, looking down at his shirt with concentration, and every so subtly did you see him glance swiftly at the bathroom mirror. “I’m surprised you even know what ameba are.”

“Or it looks like those eye floaties you get, but…colorful, you know?”

“Will you stop bullying me?”

“Only when you tell me how much you paid for that shirt.”

For a second, and you saw it flash through his eyes, he considered telling you, but figured that was a fight for a different afternoon. His silence was all the answer you needed. You nodded and left the room.

He found himself eminently lucky that you even agreed to accompany him to Los Angeles, but it was under the one condition that he takes you to In-N-Out whenever you oh so politely asked. Though, after you harassed him over his attire that morning, he was undecided to change his mind.

He didn’t.

You did, however, apologize and say he looked like a sexy ameba, and he then locked you out of the car for five minutes.

To be fair, you only accepted his offer to travel with him because you missed your friends, and they were the one thing that remained untouched from the summer. You felt the emptiness being carried with you with every passing day, and all the books and websites said that was normal, but finding distractions and hobbies to pass the time was coming close to becoming a sport – way too laborious for you.

You even found yourself searching “Losing interest in things I used to like” and you were considerably shocked to discover the rabbit hole Google led you down.

You didn’t consider yourself depressed, not by any means. Sure, you were sad most of the day, you never really gained your appetite back, you stopped painting and watching King of the Hill and Breaking Bad, and if you didn’t spend the entire day sleeping, you would lay in bed with your eyes closed, praying you would eventually grow tired enough to slip away for a little while.

Harry even signed you both up for couple’s therapy.

“This is for people who cheated on each other and refuse to break up!”

But regardless of your inherent fussing, he refused to back down. Where the two of you stood mentally, this was your last chance at redemption, and he wasn’t letting you back out. The way he saw it, if you didn’t make an effort to try and fix what was broken, there was no hope for the relationship moving forward.

That was when you realized the outcome was more than just losing your baby.

After the first session, you made an appointment with your physician, who later prescribed not only you with anti-depressants, but Harry as well. Your world was spinning madly, in every which direction, but at least you had your boy holding on madly with you.

The first time you encountered a fan since the summer happened on that very first outing in Los Angeles when you and Harry were arriving for your lunch plans. (Not In-N-Out, but you let it go.) If it had been solely one girl, you trust that you could easily fight her off if given the opportunity. I mean, sure, you didn’t fight off that other girl, but she had the upper hand, or so you tell yourself.  

But, no, she was with a group, and you felt the urge to vomit.

“I’m going to throw up—” You propel yourself in the other direction, ready to sprint back to the parking lot, and thinking back on it now, you can’t even remember the last time you even sprinted. “Let me sit in the car—let’s get the food to go—I don’t care—”

This is why we should have fucking gone to In-N-Out.

“Pet—you can’t run forever, okay? I know it’s fucking scary, but you have to face this one day.” You remember the exact quote Harry was reciting from the therapist, just with less profanity. “I won’t let them do shit, alright?”

They did stop him, of course, and you took a few steps away so they could have their moment, but you made sure he was still an arm grab away incase—

“Hey,” You had disregarded the voice, opening a game on your phone – Numberzilla – before you registered someone had spoken to you. “I’m sorry to bother you…”

At first glance, you could easily discern she was unsure of herself. She likely had a rush of confidence, and now standing blankly in front of you, she has lost all certainty. From behind, you peered up to find Harry staring at the back of her head, already inching into his pocket for his keys.

“Oh,” you gulp, clutching your phone in your hands. “Hi…”

“I just…was just hoping that you were doing okay.”

Doing okay, because of—

Your heart thudded to a stop.

“You alright?” Harry was at your side, and the young girl took a step back.

“Sorry—I’m sorry.” She gave a weak smile. “I just wish the best for you two.”

She was already walking off when you mustered up the words to thank her, but you were doubtful she heard you. Harry’s arm was in a tight grip around your backside, with his keys hung in his hand, ready to run.

The two of you cancelled your lunch plans and hit In-N-Out instead.

*

September 24, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Is it okay?”

It was a Tuesday; you had a clear agenda for the day, and it was a little after lunch that you found yourself aimlessly clicking through channels, with your boyfriend sitting down by your feet, flipping through the pages of your current read.

You had felt the undeniable ache since the night before, and you thought maybe if you just ignore it, it’ll go away, but it only lingered, taunting you with its insatiable lust.

The itch you don’t want to scratch.

Your heart was racing, your palms were sweaty, and it didn’t matter how tightly you squeezed your legs together, nothing could rid you of this.

“H,” You poked his leg with your toe. “Bear with me on this, okay?” He didn’t respond, but he carefully set your book back down on the coffee table. “Will you have sex with me real quick?”

“I…you want to?”

“Do you have condoms? Because if not, I can take care of this myself—”

“Yes, yes, I have them. I have—they’re upstairs.”

And there you were, minutes later, his cock was inside of you, and he slowly rolled his hips carefully into you, dipping his toes into the water. He physically cannot express how much this meant to him, and how long he hid this desire deep in his gut, because God forbid he be the one to bring it up. If he had to wank off in the bathroom in between commercial breaks until you decided you were ready to have sex again, he’d find a way to tolerate it.

“Is it okay?” He choked out in between breaths; only minutes in, and he was cradling dangerously on the edge.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s okay. It feels good.” You readjusted your hips, stretching your leg out to wrap around his. “Maybe a little faster?”

“I’ll cum in a second—” He shook his head, halting his movements when that tiny, little knot inched closer to unravelling. “Just give me a sec.”

“Babe—”

“Hold—” He reached his arm under the bend of your knee, lifting it up as he thrusted back into you. “Fuck—”

He was relentless; you stretched your hand down between your thighs, rubbing and kneading that small bundle of nerves as his cock hit deep within you with no sign of letting up.

It had been way too long.

“Harry—fuck—” It was deep, pulsating, and you lifted your hips up as your orgasm radiated throughout your every limb, tightening around his cock as he thrusted hard, giving you one last nudge of pleasure as his grip tightened around the sheets, fucking into you with a lasting, animalistic moan, cumming thick ropes into you.

You made him access the condom, triple checking there wasn’t a hole unbeknownst to either of you, and after a fourth overview, he politely asked you if he could throw away his used condom now.

You would be okay this time.

He ran a bath a little later, and you submerged your body deep within the bubbles, letting them rest at your jawline. You felt like you lost your virginity all over again.

“H?” You asked, rubbing the bubbles up your arm.

“Yes, pet?”

“Do you want to get married?”

The question caught him, and he cracked his eyes open with curiosity. “I want to, yeah. You know I do.”

The conversation had only been passed around once, when you were terribly drunk and crying over some sob film where the boyfriend dies before they have a chance to elope despite their parent’s protests. The film stuck with you for weeks, and you always wondered, if you knew you were with the one, why wait? Why wait for tragedy to strike?

“Let’s get married.”

He chuckled, wiggling his toes against yours. “You’re mental.”

“No, I’m serious. Why wait? Seriously? I love you, you love me, and we aren’t getting any younger.”

“Pet, you’re 24.”

“And only getting older!”

“So, you want to find some Little White Chapel in Vegas and get hitched?” He leaned up a little, a smirk stretching out on his face.

“I want a real wedding, of course, someday, but right now…let’s do it. Let’s go to Vegas or Miami or somewhere, and just do it.”

It took an hour, but he eventually agreed, and was on the phone with Jeff to arrange a flight and hotel. The next day, the two of you ran around downtown to every consignment shop in the city, looking for a white dress – not as hard as you thought it would be – a diamond ring – a little tough, but you found one for cheap – and a nice pair of heels in your size – a lot harder; you bought a size too big by accident.

And in 24 hours, you would be marrying your best friend.

*

Miami, FL September 26, 2019

“Shit…fuck, we’re actually doing this?” You stuffed a wad of tissue paper into the toe box of your heels – one size too big – and stood up to test them for a final time. “No going back?”

“Cold feet, pet?”

“No, I’m fucking—it’s humid in here.” You swing around to face him, fanning yourself off with a loose People magazine, and its then you see him standing smugly in his slacks, a proper grin etching itself across his face.

“Cold feet—the expression, pet…”

“Harry—fuck, I’m nervous. My shoes are too big, I feel a pimple forming on my chin, and I’m pretty sure the wire in my bra broke ten minutes ago because something is stabbing my tit.”

“Well, I think your tits look great.”

“You can thank that bombshell bra I bought years ago for that.” You stroll back over to the sofa and toss the magazine carelessly onto the coffee table. “Did you have them sign an MDMA?”

“NDA, and Jeff got that covered.” Harry combs back a piece of his hair, that one strand that always gives him trouble. “Hold onto this for me?” You watch as he removes his H ring, and strolls over to the sofa. “Put it in your bra—can’t lose much in there.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re my wife.” His fucking smug grin falls over him like a tidal wave, and you wish you could just slap it right off his face.

“No, I’m not.”  

“Give it a couple minutes.”

Your heart hurled itself up into your esophagus, the tremorous pounding radiating all throughout your head to your toes. Harry appeared quite relaxed as he staggered to the full-length mirror to adjust his collar, and from the reflection, he caught your watchful stare.

“Your mom is going to be pissed.” You think back to Anne, and all the good she’s done for you, and you are now repaying her by having her miss her son’s wedding. “We’ll need to plan the real thing soon.”

“We’ll tell her when we want to tell her, but for now,” he swung around on his heel to face you, “This is about you and me…and the rest of our lives.”

You make a mental note to thank Niall later.

You think back to those years ago, and how you almost bailed on Niall that night to stay home and watch The Young and the Restless with your roommate. You weren’t thrilled to get that phone call, but as long as Niall agreed to pay for a couple drinks, you found it in yourself to put on a pair of pants and enjoy a night out. 

And maybe if you had inclined to stay home, your entire life would be a completely different world right now. Maybe you’d be in somebody else’s kitchen helping them prepare dinner, or on some lavish vacation with a guy you only met a month ago, or maybe you’d be alone in your apartment, binging a new show to pass the time you only let flutter by.

But you were here now, standing at an alter that smelled roughly of cigarettes and mildew, wearing shoes that were too big on you, in a dress that probably saw more weddings than you ever will, holding the hands of the man you were prepared to love for the rest of your life.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not the harassing, not the attack, not the stalking. It didn’t matter what anybody threw at you anymore; you were hard as fucking stone, and not a single person was going to damage what the two of you were building.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Thirteen- Variation Two

(Prevoius variation here)

(Discord Here)

This chapter was originally an RP with @ablackswansweet, and there are two versions- one from both character’s POV. I have Swan’s permission to post this.

The young man can feel the android's gaze on him. It's wary of Martha and him, although he can hardly blame it. But he can't help but find the idea of a machine being "scared" kind of funny.

"What do you want?" It asks, most likely knowing something is coming, judging from the resignation in its voice. Kyle smiles internally.

You can almost see the cracks.

The blond is practically buzzing with excitement. A real android! And he gets to study it up close!

Getting closer, he inspects its face. The eerie look almost makes him shudder.

"I want to learn how you work." He takes Original's chin in his hand, moving it's head left and right to get a better look at it. The winces of "pain" from the android are uncanny.

He writes down some notes and takes his place next to the official again. Next part should be fun.

The android seems less than pleased with him playing with its uncovered face. Still, it bites its tongue instead of Kyle's hand (despite its very obvious desire to do so) until the blond is done, and lets out what sounds like a breath of relief.

How can you replicate relief in coding ? It's AI is fascinating.

"Haven't you done that enough?" It whines, trying to shake off its bonds. "With everything you've done to me, I doubt that any competent mechanic would need any more research."

It tries to shoot him a displeased glare, but without its faceplate it just looks unsettling and pathetic.

Kyle chuckles to himself. For a machine, it's talking a lot. Fascinating.

"Thing is, Original, I'm not exactly a mechanic. I'm just really, really interested by your wires and gears. And how well they respond to… Certains stimuli," he says.

A few more words in his notes and he looks at Martha, asking if it's time. She nods. Awesome.

As fast as he can, the blond connects wires to the android, barely able to contain his joy. It's not everyday you get to experiment on a non-human sentient being.

Stepping in front of the control panel, he waits for the official's instructions, almost shaking from anticipation.

Original isn't looking so good. It seems worried. Well, it's right. It should be. The distress emanating from it is very interesting, too. Can it sense the danger looming over it?

“To begin with, my name is Zane, not Original. Second, if you are so interested in ‘wires and gears’ perhaps a robotics course would be a more healthy outlet for you," it tries to reason with him. Too bad that it's way more interesting than a simple robotics course.

After a pause, it adds, "Why are you doing this? I can assure you that I have never meant to cause harm on any innocents.”

Kyle's hand twitches. He looks over at Martha. She's wearing a displeased expression. He didn't expect anything else, and he's probably making the same face as well.

“You can begin whenever you like.” The official tone sounds slightly interested, now.

He hums in response.

"Hey, Original?" He calls out to the robot. "You talk a lot."

He pushes a button and a small jolt of electricity was released. This fairly small amount of energy is only meant to cause discomfort. Wouldn't want to burn it out too fast.

The android squirms and still attempts to free itself, but no real pain response occurs. Interesting. A new paragraph written.

It still tries to reason with him, going on and on about how it wants it to stop, please. Kyle drowns the sound out with his thoughts. That wasn't very exciting.

Maybe with a stronger charge, something interesting will happen? That's what Martha seems to think too.

The android finally looks like it understands it's not talking him out of it.

How advanced is its code supposed to be, again? That took a while.

“I suppose I am talking a lot,” It concedes, “but not nearly as much as an old friend of mine. Jay couldn’t stay quiet if his life depended on it.”

Is it trying to have a conversation with him? Now? In its situation?

It must have thought of something. Let's humor it.

"Heh, yeah. I had a guy like that in one of my foster homes." A smirk grows on the blond’s face as the robot seems startled. "Didn't end well for him either. No one like a constant source of useless noise, don't you agree?"

Even without a faceplate, its expressions are pretty easy to guess. It's almost laughable how a few words shakes it up.

Making small talk is is a smart plan, he'll give it that. It's probably hoping that it'll make him like it enough to not hurt it. Let's see how long this game can last.

"How is your old friend doing now?" He asks, slowly turning up the voltage. The other engineers told him this should be as painful as period cramps, so that's fun.

The android struggles under the amount of electricity building up. But still, it continues to talk. Kyle's impressed.

“I haven’t seen him in a while- I’ve been a little…” It looks at its restrains and winces, probably reminded of its situation.. “... tied up.”

At big crooked smile appears on the blond's face. It's even making jokes now! Powering through painful situations could be a valuable asset if they were to make something like supersoldiers. Looking good so far.

“I don’t think I caught your name, either. What do you go by?” It asks, most likely trying to get information on him. That's not very important data, though. It can have it.

The blond lets his face turn into a surprised expression for a second. "My name's Kyle. He/him, I guess. But I don't think you're going to need to know that."

He turns the charge a little higher again, hoping to see some more interesting pain responses as they continue to talk. This is getting boring. Martha seems to approve of his method, however. Thanks, mom.

"Tell me about your other old friends. You said you were dating, right? How's it like ?" He asks again, a sinister smile on his face. How about a good old Pavlovian shock therapy?

Original fights any sign of discomfort or pain, and its calm expression is almost unsettling when you know what its sensors are going through right now.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kyle," It tells him, the lie barely noticeable. But Kyle has worked with hypocrites before. Original is talented. “I don’t recall mentioning that I was in an active relationship, but I suppose that the background research you must’ve done would cover that.”

Kyle smiles and says nothing. He increases the tension steadily, appreciating the sight of the android losing its peaceful facade, with flashes of pain occasionally visible on its face.

Impressive. The robot is still fighting. Maybe leaving the sensors at their normal settings was too nice, but oh well. Things are just now getting better.

"Yeah, I read your file before coming here. Big fan, by the way." He smiles, but the hostility starts to seep in his voice. "Wonder how they feel about your self-sacrificing nature," he almost spit out.

No. Breathe. Calm down.

Some composure regained, he suddenly sends it a jolt of electricity. Seeing it almost bite its tongue in pain is pretty therapeutic, actually.

Kyle lowers the voltage to let the robot catch his artificial breath. It's going to give up completely pretty soon. He'll have some fun with it first.

"So, your old friends ?"

Its pathetic sigh of relief is still very satisfying. It looks desperate, and tries to explain its past actions. It really doesn't need to. Kyle already knows they're unforgivable.

“When I was fighting the Golden Master, I meant no harm to any innocent people. I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I… I understand that in some ways, I have failed this function, but I do my best to help those in need.”

The android attempts to steady its breathing. Trying to keep keep a sliver of dignity in front of the enemy, maybe ?

Anyways, it stopped talking. Finally.

Kyle sighs and does his best not to give a snarky reply. It seems to believe in what it's saying, anyways. Further proof of how out of touch with reality its AI is.

Another spike of tension, and Kyle is smiling again.

"You didn't answer my question, Original. How was life with your… Boyfriends ? Kai Smith, Jay Walker and Cole Brookstone, yeah ?" He says, insisting on their last names. They know who they are. Perhaps that'll make it talk.

His excitement level goes through the roof at Original's reaction. It goes stiff, most likely from anger. He found the weak spot.

A whimper escapes it, but it doesn't adress it. It's really mad.

“You do not touch them," it snarls at him. If Kyle's hand had been close to its face, there was no doubt it would've bitten him. “If you hurt them, I swear on the First Spinjitzu Master that I will hunt you down to the ends of the-“ Kyle cuts him off by sending it a strong shock. It cries in pain. The blond doesn't feel bad.

"Calm down. I didn't even actually threaten them yet," The boy mutters, leaving the tension run high a few more seconds before leaving it room to breathe again. The pathetic sounds of relief it does each time makes him want to laugh.

"If I wanted to truly use them as hostages, I'd tell you I know which shop they go to every two weeks to buy supplies and food, which is the one at the end of the main avenue."

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the voltage starts going up again.

"I'd tell you we have live feed of them almost every day and everywhere they go."

The pain must be becoming close to absolutely unbearable, seeing how the android trashes around. Fun.

"Or… I'd tell you how one of them already got arrested once, and how easy it is to transfer prisoners or fake an accident."

The power is now all the way up. It's almost scary how much this artificial body can handle.

Before it actually physically breaks, though, Kyle shuts off the power. The android's breath of relief is broken up by what sounds like sobs.

The blond comes closer, chuckling as the machine flinches near him. He takes off the wires plugged into it.

"Don't you dare threaten me or her ever again. Remember who holds the power here," he mutters in its ear before joining Martha with a smile, his notepad black with scribbles. She looks satisfied.

The android looks like it wants to say something, but doesn't have the strength to do so anymore. That's a satisfying sight.

He leaves the room with Martha, closing the door after her.

She smiles at him.

"It's close. You were right, you can almost see it cracking by the minute."

She fondly ruffles his hair and he chuckles, his nose tickled.

"Good job, sweetie."

[haberdashing]

As If You Were There (2/4)

The statements from Episode 100 rewritten as regular statements, with a fair bit of creative liberty taken to fill in the missing details.

on AO3

Part 1 / Part 2

Statement of John Smith, regarding a supernatural encounter within the depths of the abandoned Aldwych Tube station. Original statement given May the 13th, 2017. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

Look, I’m not giving you my name and address and birth date and goddamn blood type so you can go hand it all over to the bloody government when I’m done. Maybe you don’t do that sort of thing, maybe all that talk about confidentiality is more than just lip service, but I can’t trust you just like that. I’m not sure who I can trust, not anymore. I trusted my friend--let’s call him Jeremy, I trusted Jeremy--but that’s about it, and now he’s not here, and I don’t know what agencies will help and what agencies will just rat me out to the perpetrators. I’ve heard of your field, found a few web pages a while back, but that’s not much to go on. I just really hope you’re one of the good ones.

D’you know about Aldwych Tube station? Well, it’s not a Tube station anymore--there’s still trains running at the platform level, but the station itself isn’t running anymore, it’s been abandoned for decades now. So many of the things there are all in original condition--the original adverts are still up, things like that, never removed that stuff after they shut it all down. It’s part of London’s history, y’know, it’s public transport, it’s interesting.

But when Jeremy and I decided to break in there, it wasn’t just about about the public transport stuff and the adverts. We wanted to have a look around because we had some ideas about what else might be down there, maybe there was something worth investigating there. It’s the right kind of place for it, hiding in plain sight, unused space in the middle of London but nobody thinks twice about it because oh, it’s just an old Tube station, everybody knows that. But we figured maybe it’s not just an old Tube station, maybe there’s more to it than that.

Suppose we were right about that bit, at least. Just wish we could’ve learned it without losing Jeremy in the process.

We were in the tunnels when it happened. Already saw the adverts, the usual public transportation stuff, nothing too exciting there, but that wasn’t a surprise. We weren’t the first ones to break in there, not by a long shot, so it couldn’t be that easy. But the tunnels, they could be hiding something for sure. Jeremy and I both had torches with us--it was evening then, but it was gloomy enough in those tunnels that I doubt they’d be much lighter in the day time. It started out pretty boring, just following train tracks, no signs of anything.

Then our torches went out. Both of them, at the same time. And we’d packed them with fresh batteries, too. Can’t have been a coincidence there. Maybe the government made some kind of field down there that messes with electronics, just in case someone came poking around, getting too close to what they’re hiding down there.

Now, it was proper dark down there without the torches. Couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. But Jeremy started rambling about what he was doing, came closer and said he’d get his phone out and use it as a torch since the actual torches were a bust. I wasn’t big on his bringing the phone in the first place--too easy for the wrong people to track--but having the light from it definitely would’ve been better than nothing.  But the phone wouldn’t light up either. Thought it had died too, but then Jeremy tried to turn it on and it made a sound like it was turning off, though the screen hadn’t shown a thing the whole time.

Electronics disrupter, I’m telling you. Screwing with the EMF field. It’s gotta be.

Jeremy wanted to turn around then, just call it a bust and go home, but I figured this meant we were close to something big, exactly the sort of thing we’d come for in the first place, and I talked him into going a bit further before giving up. ‘Course I regret it now, but how could I have known?

We linked arms to make sure we each knew where the other one was in the dark, even though it made walking a little awkward, and Jeremy definitely stepped on my shoes more than once down there; to be fair, I probably paid him back in kind along the way. Tried to keep going straight, best as we could figure, but we kept bumping into the same wall over and over again. No matter how much we course-corrected, we kept bumping into this smooth, cold wall on either side, though the tunnels had seemed plenty big when we started out. No way the trains could pass through a space that small.

I pointed that out to Jeremy, actually, said we must be getting close to something then, and it was right after that that we first saw them.

Couldn’t tell you what they looked like, height, weight, gender, any of that stuff. For one thing, it was way too dark to make out any of those kinds of details, and for another, they were dressed to blend in, to hide that identifying information further. Could be some sort of military camouflage prototypes, adapted to the darkness of the tunnels. I could only see the faint snippets where their pitch-black clothes didn’t quite cover them--gaps between long sleeves and gloves, or between a turtleneck and a ski mask--and even then, they had to be pretty close first. If it really was camouflage like I thought, well, it wasn’t perfect, but it sure got the job done.

The first one I saw was off to the right, so we tried to go around, but just bumped into the wall on the left instead. Jeremy was on my left, and I think he got a few scrapes there, heard him wince in pain. Then I saw a flash of skin from another figure, and another, and my stomach began to sink.

I was sure there were five of them there. I don’t know how I was so sure, given that I only saw them in brief flashes, small snippets of skin that could’ve been the same person over and over, but I was sure. And if it was two on two, or even three on two, I might’ve been willing to duke it out, but five on two’s hardly a fair fight, is it?

I heard something in the distance, a loud, long sound that reminded me a little of a train coming, and I remembered this was a Tube station, or had been, though I didn’t think any trains were supposed to run that late. I thought maybe one was heading towards us, or coming from behind, though there were no lights to show as much, so I told Jeremy to run.

I heard my own breathing then, and could just barely make out Jeremy’s as we tried to head back, but I swear, I swear I didn’t hear a single breath from the five that were after us. Maybe they were robots that just looked like humans. Wouldn’t surprise me.

Whatever they were, they were after us for sure now. Even as we tried to get away, to dodge, they just kept getting closer. Tried heading to the right, but hit the wall pretty quick, even though we’d just hit the other one. Tried walking backwards but, well, that’s hard enough on your own, let alone when you’ve got your arms linked up to someone else.

So we just broke arms and ran. Every man for himself isn’t pretty, sure, and I’m far from proud of it, but sometimes that’s all you can do. If we’d stayed together, we’d prob’ly both be gone now.

At one point when I was running I saw a light back the way I came, looking like it was coming from everywhere all at once, and after being in the dark that long it hurt my eyes to see. I could see then that Jeremy was behind me, that the men in black were all gathered around him now. He was on the ground, so either he fell along the way or one of them knocked him down; probably the latter, if I had to guess. Either way, I hadn’t heard it, just that low rumble of a train that never quite arrived.

Part of me wanted to go towards the light, like it’d be safer, but I figured it had to be a trap. The only place that light could be coming from was their secret holding facility, and I wasn’t being dragged in there for the life of me. Plus, that roaring noise had only gotten louder when it showed up. So I ran the other way and made sure not to look back.

Eventually the sound faded away and I saw a sliver of light from above, managed to climb my way out of Aldwych station, but I never saw Jeremy again. I came back the next day with all the industrial torches I could buy with cash without triggering any government alarms, found the torches we’d dropped along the way--both still dead--and Jeremy’s phone--also dead, and screen way more cracked than it had been when we started--and a spot of blood on the wall, but no sign of Jeremy.

I tried going to the tabloids first, the kind that publish what they know is the truth, no matter what the authorities try to claim. I figured Jeremy’s younger, decent-looking bloke, and pretty well-off these days, so even if none of them believed the government connection--and none of them did, or at least, none of them were willing to admit it--I figured his disappearance would be a human interest story, and the details could come out later. They all turned me down and laughed me out of the room, though. A few suggested going to the police, but I knew better; at best I’d get arrested for trespassing, at worst I’d be locked up down in the tunnels with Jeremy. One of them looked to be in the middle of calling me a shrink, or worse, when I just up and left. And one mentioned your name as an alternative.

Even if you had all my details, I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me if you sent someone down into the tunnels the same way we’d gone, or got in touch with your government connections to arrange a deal, or whatever. That confidentiality agreement of yours goes both ways, I imagine. But I don’t need all those details. I just need you to get back Jeremy for me.

Or if you can’t--if he’s too far gone, if they’re already testing bioweapons on him, or they already wiped his mind, or did something else that means he isn’t coming back--make damn sure nobody else goes the same way he did.

Statement ends.

[bymoonchild]

Butterfingers and Honey Lips (M) [Preview]

Pairing | Namjoon x Reader

Genre | Sweeter than sweet fluff, smut / College!AU, Bakery/Coffeeshop!AU, 5+1 Things

Warnings | Explicit language, dirty thoughts because we’re all hoes for our president, more smutty parts to come uwu 

Summary | All long limbs and adorable dimpled smiles, Namjoon just can’t seem to be capable of acting normal around you for the life of him. But the more he messes up, the more you find him endearing. 

“Coffee or tea?”

“Yes.”

Or, five times Namjoon embarrasses himself in front of you, and one time he does Things Right.

This is a very belated birthday gift for my soulmate Ayv, @piedpipers – you deserve nothing but the best, and I hope you enjoy this little preview ☁️💫🌻💞🌝💛

The small ball of your life is defined by a few constants: every Friday morning specifically, you’ll find yourself surrounded by the pleasant aroma of roasted coffee beans and freshly-baked goodies, soft acoustic jazz wafting from the speakers, slivers of sunlight filtering through the windowpanes and redolent freshly-picked blooms by the counter. Sunflowers and white tulips are this week’s pick. 

A strong advocate of habit, you’ve come to find solace in the heartbeat of the familiar place, a home away from home. Having worked at the little quaint café down the street for the past few months, all these constants have come together to blend into a cacophony of comfort, warming your heart like a fresh brew.

It’s like baking your favourite Strawberry Shortcake – each ingredient is essential from the preparation process to the end product. But there are, of course, obstacles along the way. In the F&B service industry, you literally serve your biggest foes every single minute – customers, or rude customers to be exact. 

During your stint working at the café, you’re proud to say that you’ve faced almost every type of customer – from the burdensome ones who take an eternity to order, to peppy teenagers who always have the weirdest combinations of ingredients (and even have the audacity to ask for latte art), to sleep-deprived and caffeine-addicted college kids, and to grumpy working adults who don’t have time or half the heart to even order properly.  

In other words, you’ve met so many oddities in the past few months that no customer should shock you by now.

Or so you thought.

Because you’ve never imagined (okay fine, you have had come up with cute scenarios about meeting a boy in your café before, but that’s a secret) meeting a customer… like the guy standing before you, all long awkward limbs and painfully adorable dimples.

You’ve just barely managed to get past the lunch crowd and you just need to serve one more person in the line before you can finally take a breather, but when your eyes land on the last customer, they widen at the sight and warmth violently flares in the full of your cheeks.

Wow, is all you can decipher. He’s blessed with amazing proportions and height that could rival a model's. His hair is tousled into gentle waves, parted down the middle with strands gracefully falling over his forehead. He’s wearing a basic black tee, but it complements his sun-kissed skin and does all justice to his lightly-muscled arms.

You don’t realise that you’ve been holding your breath as you watch the intimidatingly attractive customer stride towards you and when he settles in front of your counter, looking up at the overhead menu, you take in a shaky gasp to regain composure.

“Hi,” you greet and do a victory cheer mentally when your voice doesn’t waver as much as you expected it to. Flashing him your trademark professional smile albeit the internal crisis boiling inside you, you proceed to ask, “How may I help you?”

The stranger averts his gaze from the menu and locks eyes with you for the briefest of seconds, so briefly that you would have missed the glint in his cocoa eyes if you blinked. He then reciprocates your smile, naturally flaunting his dimples, before peering into the glass display at the assortment of pastries and snacks available.

Namjoon has stumbled upon the café down the street while running some errands before heading back to his apartment. He isn’t a heavy coffee drinker, though he looks like he worships it, but he needs some caffeine and probably some sugar pumping in his blood to prepare himself for the long night ahead. Don’t ask him why he decided to bring pain into his life by enrolling into one of the most prestigious Engineering programmes in the country, unless you want to feel his wrath. 

“Um, w-what would you recommend?” He asks, pointing to the display, almond-shaped eyes flickering everywhere but the girl behind the counter. You try to ignore his stutter, too engrossed by his voice that’s so deep in timber, infused with honey and velvet. 

You’re somewhat glad that he’s not looking at you because you swear your cheeks are dusted with a tint of pink like a teenage schoolgirl – but holy shit, this customer is really attractive. Your eyes linger at the small dimple that creeps out of hiding when he smiles.

You gulp internally, still keeping your smile on your face but you’re very sure that your face is as red as the strawberries in your favourite Strawberry Shortcake. 

“These cupcakes!” You slide over and point to the white chocolate lychee cupcakes, “They’re fresh out of the oven and I spent at least a decade frosting it.”

He nods to himself. “Oh okay, I’ll have that then.”

“Do you want to get it as a set?” You ask further, pointing to the mini promotion menu on your right. 

He nods. 

"Coffee or tea?"

“Yes.”

“Huh?” You blurt out, trying to refrain your lips from curling up and repeat, “Coffee or tea?”

“Oh! S-Sorry, right, um coffee please,” he chuckles bashfully and—

Oh! Hello there, cute dimples.

"Having it here or to go?"

The stranger catches approximately zero words from your mouth and simply nods his head, still staring unblinkingly at you. You wonder if there’s something on your face or…?

“Yep, okay.”

“Um… Here or to go?” You repeat again, cheeks turning red.

He blinks frantically to snap himself from his stupor and gasps, “Oh! Right…”

You chuckle at the stranger’s response, disregarding the fact that the epitome of humiliation is standing in front of you. Instead of feeling embarrassed for him, you’re actually quite amused. 

“Um… to go?”

“Okay!” Grabbing a cup off the shelf, you fish out a pen from your pocket and turn to him, hand poised over the cup. “What’s your name?”

You hope you didn’t sound too eager because technically, you don’t really need his name because there aren’t any other orders, but you really, really want to get his name at the very least.

“O-Oh, Kim Namjoon,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, “Namjoon.”

When you hand him his coffee and takeaway box with sparks of mirth dancing in your eyes, you don’t fail the deep red tinting Namjoon’s cheeks as he saunters away with his head hung low, cursing himself in embarrassment. 

Well, that was interesting, you think to yourself. 

Namjoon’s pretty fascinating.

And hella cute.

In between brewing more coffee, frosting more cupcakes and interacting with even more customers, you hope to see that one customer again. Kim Namjoon, the attractive boy who embarrassed himself in front you, but you could only think about his cute dimples and honey lips. 

Raise your hand if you’ve ever been personally victimised by baristas taking your order because I might or might not have said “yes” to “Coffee or tea?” before.

I also created a progress page! Please look forward to my future fics and also, be patient with me 😔Managed to write 10% of this fic for Ayv because I love her so, so much!! 

My ask and message boxes are always open, HMU if you want to scream about stuff or let me know what you think about the fic! 

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[xswestallen]

CinderIris: chapter 10

WestAllen Cinderella AU

Summary: With his mother death looming, King Henry holds a ball and invites all the eligible maidens in the kingdom, hoping his son, Prince Barry, will finally find a bride. Iris West is a bar maiden, who would love to attend, but, she is very poor and can’t afford a nice dress or a ride to the castle.

First chapter

Previous chapter

Archive of Our Own version

“Hey, Iris.” Jax sighed as he plopped down on a seat at the bar. “Man, do I need a drink.”

“I heard you had a rough night last night.” Iris said as she poured him a glass of whiskey.

“Leonard Snart, his sister, and their bastard friends were at it again. They’re rouge citizens. They stole every carriage I was repairing in my garage. My customers are furious.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But, the important thing is you’re alright.” Iris reminded him.

Jax squinted in concentration. “Yeah, it was strange. The gang ran for it when they heard the Royal Guard coming, but when I went to officially report the robbery this morning, the Guard said they have no record of any guards responding to a break in at my garage. They said no guards were even in the area.”

Iris smiled to herself. “Well, I suppose your guardian angel was looking out for you.”

Jax raised his glass. “Cheers to that.” He took a big swig.

Iris turned away from the bar to clean some dishes. She looked back when Jax said, “Oh no, not this guy again!”

An announcer from the Palace had entered the tavern. He stood proudly in the center of the room and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

Jax covered his ears. Iris however, leaned over the bar, wondering what he’d come to announce.

“Ladies and gentleman of the South side of Central Kingdom,”

Heads turned as the announcer’s voice bellowed.

“I come bearing good news. His Majesty, King Henry, has declared that the royal Palace will host a ball at the Palace next Friday. During the night’s festivities, His Majesty will make an announcement.”

Whispers filled the air as people speculated about what the King’s announcement could be.

Jax scoffed. “An announcement that there will be an announcement, how ridiculous!” He looked back to Iris.

She was looking down at the wooden bar, eyes shifting out of focus as they glided across the grain. She thought for a moment that she was dreaming, or hallucinating from exhaustion after another long shift. It sounded like there was going to be another ball. But, it would be held on…..

“What date did he say?” Iris asked Jax.

“Next Friday.”

Iris’ heart sank. That was the same day Wally would be borrowing Cecile’s carriage and going to Lady McGee laboratory. She couldn’t ask Wally not to go, this was his dream. But, without Cecile’s carriage, getting to the Palace would be impossible. There was no way Iris would be able to travel such a distance on foot and she couldn’t afford to rent a carriage. She’d barely scraped up enough for a low end dress.

What pained Iris the most, was thinking how Prince Barry probably asked his father to throw this ball so she would come and they could reunite. In her frustration, Iris slammed a tray of dirty glasses down on the counter so forcefully, one fell and broke on the floor.

“Damn.” Iris cursed under her breath. She went to get the broom, but the owner of Drunkards, Mason Bridge, blocked the entryway to the kitchen. Arms folded and teeth grinding, Iris knew the look meant she was in trouble.

“West,” He angrily wheezed. “What the hell was that?”

“I dropped a glass.” Iris explained. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up right now.” She tried to maneuver around Mason, but he held out his arm, halting her.

“That’s not what I saw from the kitchen window. I saw you carelessly dump a tray of glasses on the counter instead of setting them down gently in the sink, like you’re supposed to.”

“I’m sorry.” Iris apologized again. “I was just-”

Mason cut her off. “You were just FIRED. Get out of here.”

Iris flinched. “What?”

“You’re fired.” Mason repeated.

“Wha- But, but,” Iris stuttered. “I- I’ve worked here for years. I’m a reliable employee. The customer’s like me.”

“The customer’s don’t give a damn who’s behind the bar so long as they pour the drinks. If you were under the impression that you’re irreplaceable, you were sadly mistaken. Now, go.”

“You can’t fire me!” Iris protested. “I need this job. Please, give me a second chance.”

“Second chances are important people. You, West, are not important.”

Iris began to cry. Normally, she’d feel embarrassed, but her pride had already been obliterated. “Please, I don’t have any money. I need to work.”

“Fine, work, just not here.” Mason said. He waved his hand, shooing Iris off like a fly.

“Mr. Bridge, please!”

“Would you go already. People come here and drink to forget their desperation. They don’t need the stink of yours.”

Iris yanked off her apron, shoved it at Mason, and stormed out of Drunkards.

Her tears kept falling, but she done being sad. She was angry. All that time she’d spent working for Drunkards, never calling out ill, always punctual, and Mason has the audacity to fire her. It was salt in her wound. The tiny sliver of hope there was that she’d be able to go to the Palace for the ball was if, by some miracle, a customer left her a hefty tip. But now, even that one in a million chance was taken from her.

“AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!” Iris screamed into the night. She stamped her feet in frustration before collapsing in the cloud of dirt she’d kicked up. Her chest heaved as she cried quietly into the fabric of her skirt. She was pathetic and she knew it.

Iris threw her hands up. “HELLO, I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’RE STILL OUT THERE, WEIRD PEOPLE WHO JUST APPEAR, BUT I NEED YOU TERRIBLY RIGHT NOW!” She called to no one.

Iris laughed at herself. She was a fool for thinking she could pull herself out of her miserable little world, a fool for her romanticism. A poor girl from the South side like her had nothing to offer. She’d die a poor spinster slaving away at some other dead end job. Iris sobbed. Facing that reality tonight was scarier than hiding feet away from Leonard Snart the night before.

Then, Iris got an idea. She paused her self-pity to think. Leonard and Lisa Snart, Mick Rory, and Rosa Dillon were all wanted criminals. She caught them stealing carriages last night. If she told her dad or one of the Royal Guards about what she saw, it would lead to their arrest.

It was a bad idea. Desperate times call for desperate measures, Iris told herself. Snart had carriages to spare and a good motivation to get on Iris’ good side.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Prince Barry walked down the stairs to the Palace kitchen two at a time. He smiled with relief when he saw Linda.

“There you are, Linda. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I would like to ask you something.”

Linda barely acknowledged Barry. She kept her focus on her cooking. She was stewing a pot of vegetables and mixing a delicious smelling sauce in a pan. Barry glanced around and realized the kitchen was filled with freshly prepared food, enough to feed the Royal army.

“Are you having a dinner party?” Barry joked.

Linda didn’t look up at him, but said, “Cooking helps me to relax.”

The Prince was at first confused, but then realized the tension in Linda’s body as she stood over the stove.

“Why do you need to relax?”

Linda turned off the boiler, put a lid on the pot of vegetables, and finally looked at Barry, exasperated. “Because finding out the man I believed to be my suitor is arranging another ball in the hopes of his long lost love returning makes me feel on edge.” She brushed by the Prince swiftly, moving to the island to chop garlic.

Barry deflated. If he were being truthful, yes, a part of him was hanging onto the fantasy that the mystery girl would return to the Palace for this ball. It was only a small fraction of him though. His rational mind knew it would not happen and that was the main reason for the ball. Barry was genuinely interested in moving forward in his relationship with Linda.

It was after a solid minute of silence that Barry registered how is lack of denial made the situation worse. He quickly spoke up.

“Linda, that’s not why I asked my father to hold the ball. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m not that kind of guy.”

Linda chopped the last bit of garlic. She folded her arms and stared down Barry. “Well, let me tell you what kind of girl I am. I was born into a position that mean I am forced to spend a great deal of time associating with narrow, stuffy people I would have been perfectly happy to have never endured a conversation with. Therefore, I’m picky about whom I chose to spend my free time with.”

The lady’s plight was all too relatable for Barry.

“I chose to spend some of it with you.” Linda sighed. “So, tell me, Your Highness, did I make the right choice?”

“Yes, you did! ” Barry exhorted. “I understand, probably more than anyone, what it’s like to have to spend your time trying to make small talk with people who don’t interest you, and who you know would never be caught dead talking to you if it weren’t for your title. I understand what it’s like to be desperate to find someone who isn’t draining to spend time with. That’s one of the many reasons I enjoy spending time with you!”

Linda softened. She took a step towards Barry, who still felt uneasy. The way Linda was looking at him was almost pitying.

“I’m not angry, Barry, I swear.” Linda said in a honeyed voice. “But, I do think that we should call it.”

“W-Wh- Wait, can we talk about this? What do you mean?”

“Look, I know how difficult and awkward it is to pursue someone new when you’re still not over someone.”

Barry held Linda’s hands. “I am over the girl from the ball.” He said it with such conviction it was believable. Barry may have even believed it himself. “I proposed Friday’s ball because I wanted to announce our relationship to the Kingdom.”

Linda was stunned.

“I- I was looking for you all over the Palace grounds because I wanted to ask you if umm- If you would like to ummm- Take our relationship to that uh- Next stage.”

Linda’s eyes darted back and forth. She looked conflicted. “Barry, I gave you an out.”

“I don’t want an out.” He said firmly.

“I don’t want to court someone who’s pining for someone else.”

“I’m not pining for anyone else. Linda, you are the only one I want to pursue.” The Prince insisted. “I will prove it to you.”

Barry dropped Linda’s hands abruptly and went to the pantry. He knocked over things as he carelessly searched the shelves for a specific food. Linda had complied that the Palace lacked the wide array of spices and seasonings she was accustomed to back home. To surprise her, Barry had the chef order a peppers. When he found the container of peppers, he grabbed one and showed it to Linda.

“This is the Bhut jolokia, or the ‘ghost pepper’. It is the world’s hottest pepper, measuring 401.5 times hotter than tabasco sauce.” Barry explained. “If you do not agree to attend the ball as my guest of honor, I will eat it. Right here, right now.”

The concern on Linda’s face morphed into humor. “You’re bluffing.” She accused.

“I never bluff.”

Barry bit off half the pepper. At first, it wasn’t unbearable. But, the pepper soon scorched his tongue. It took all of Barry’s resilience to maintain his dignified, determined stare at Linda.

“Are you ok?” She asked.

“I’m fine, yes.” lied Barry.

“Are you sure?”

“Mmm hmm.” He hummed. But, it was no use. Barry couldn’t handle to pepper’s sting any longer. He spat it up on the floor.

Linda lurched back to avoid having the partially chewed pepper hit her shoes.

“Yes, yes.” She shrieked. “I’ll go the ball with you.” She ran to the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk for Barry. “That pepper could have killed you, you nerd.”

Barry guzzled down the entire carton. “Mmm, thank you.” He grunted.

Linda giggled. “My Prince and spice champion.”

The pleasant burn of her kiss helped Barry forget about the painful burn of the pepper.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Iris found Leonard Snart at a bar much sleazier looking than Dunkards. It was empty except for Snart and the barmaid, who’s cigarette smoke floated through the room, giving the impression it was filled ghosts.

Iris took a deep breath for confidence, but grew to regret it when the smoke choked her.

Hearing her cough, Snart turned to from the bar to look at Iris.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the daughter of old man West. I think you’re in the wrong bar. Come to check out the competition?”

Iris stood tall, not allowing herself to get intimidated. “I have business proposal for you.”

“Really?” Snart drawled. His sneer was identical to his sister’s. “I don’t think a girl the poorest family in the Kingdom has a good grasp on business. I’ll pass.”

“I have a problem you can help me with.” Iris told him.

“You must be pretty desperate to come asking for my assistance, but I’ll bite. What do you need?”

“A carriage.”

Snart laughed. “A carriage?”

“Yes.” Iris took a seat next to him and whispered, “I happened to know you came into possession of quite a few very recently.”

Snart’s eyes narrowed. He looked Iris up and down. “What are you implying?”

“I saw you and your gang in Jax’s garage the other night. You rode off with every carriage he had.”

“Careful, West.” Snart warned. “If you say you see crazy things like that, well, you might end up unable to see at all.”

Iris was expecting a threat and came prepared. Without breaking eye contact with Snart, she pulled a few sheets of parchment out of her pocket and slapped them down on the bar.

“You won’t be able to blind everyone who sees this.”

It was an article Iris wrote up, detailing the crime. Snart looked over the paper. He had a commendable poker face, but Iris caught a flicker of worry in his eyes.

“Once there’s a witness confirming Jax’s story of the robbery and everyone’s read about it, there won’t be a bar in the Kingdom you can hide in.”

“Cold.” Snart said. “Not bad, for your first time blackmailing someone, but you really shouldn’t have given me this sneak preview. There’s nothing stopping me from icing you and having my friend burn this to ash.”

“I have a journalist friend who would just love to publish this story in South Side Print News.” Iris informed Snart. “I already sent him a copy, as well a few other journalists I know, just in case this one mysterious catches fire.”

It was a bluff. Iris had more copies of the article, but they were all in her bedroom. She couldn’t send this to Scott or any journalist and expect them not to publish it right away.

“You’ve already been taken in by the Royal Guards several times, haven’t you? I’m sure they’re losing patients with you, Leonard, and you know what happens when they lose patients.” Iris said menacingly.

To her shock, Snart’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “Alright West, you got me.” He conceded. “So, why the need for a carriage?”

“I need to go to the ball at the Palace on Friday.”

“You’re blackmailing me so you can go a ball?” Snart questioned.

“I love a good party.”

“If I’m your coachman you’ll hand over every copy of this article?”

“Simple as that.” Iris confirmed.

Snart huffed. “You sure you don’t want to throw in a pretty dress too?”

“As a matter of fact,”

[petersvibes]

all i wanna do - peter parker

anonymous asked: so here i am, can you make imagine where peter and reader know each other and he likes her but he thinks she doesn't like him back because she never looks into his eyes while they're speaking and they never speak for long and stuff like that and he is sad about it so when he gives up on her he just argues about that with her and she confesses that she is scared of eye contact and afterwards it's fluff? ♥ thank you so much♥

description: when y/n looks into peter’s eyes, she happens to get a little nervous. 

song: all i wanna do - the beach boys

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: bad puns

author’s note: this took me way too long lol. 

With relentless winter air biting at the exposed parts of their skin, Ned and Peter shuffle down the street and towards Peter’s building, the excitement from their third viewing of the latest Star Wars movie fresh on their minds. The handmade hats May made them during her knitting phase sit snug atop their heads, the unevenly braided tassels blowing in their faces. 

While his best friend talks his ear off about his personal fan theories, Peter’s thoughts are centered around the only thing that has occupied them for the past few months; you. On a regular night, he would be thinking about your immeasurable kindness, or your wit, or the way you kind of skip down the hallways when you get a good grade in chemistry. Today, its how you seem to avoid him like the plague, the only conversations you have short and empty. He would give anything to live in those tiny moments where you laugh at his jokes and bring him snacks from your dad’s restaurant. Even though those moments are rare and he hates the fact, he likes you. He really, really likes you.

After minutes of limited response from his friend, Ned elbows his side, snapping Peter out of his daze of embarrassment. “You should just give it up.” Ned comments. Peter groans, crossing his arms over his chest dramatically and letting out a huff.

"But it's (Y/N)," Peter upturns his bright red nose, playing with the loose threads of his gloves. "She's... she..."

"She clearly doesn't like you?" Ned offers, a coy smirk playing on his lips. Peter is quick to slap him upside the head, satisfied when he hears him groan in pain. 

“(Y/N),” Peter repeats, challenging Ned to interrupt him again, “Is the most beautiful, sweet, lovely girl I’ve ever met,” His mind flashes back to your encounter earlier this evening, how you avoided his eyes vehemently and expressed little to no interest in his feeble attempts at flirting with you. His heart sinks to the bottom of his chest, dread filling the space in his brain previously occupied with fantasies of what it would be like if maybe, just maybe, you felt even half of the same feelings for him as he did for you. Peter sighs. "And she clearly doesn't like me." 

Peter’s exhausted walking into the chemistry lab, his feet heavily dragging the weight of a long, stressful day. His mind is everywhere at once; from his superhero duties to May’s cold to the outcome of his English test tomorrow. He flops down onto his chair, immediately resting his head in his hands as the sound of his shuffling classmates becomes far away. When Ned sits down next to him. he knows his best friend is having a bad day, but he nudges him anyway.

“We have a lab today dude.” Ned says, keeping his voice low. Peter looks up, peering at Ned through hazy eyes that scream desperately for a nap. As soon as he says it, their teacher commands the class to make their way towards the lab stations, reiterating the procedure as Peter follows haphazardly. He trudges towards the stock of lab coats, his head hanging low as he rubs at his eyes with Sensing someone behind him, he quickly turns around, his defensive shattered completely when he sees your face, complete with a reserved smile and wandering eyes that float between his wide eyes and the tiled floor beneath your shuffling feet. 

“Hi uhm, Peter?” You timidly ask, fiddling with the elastic of your goggles. He raises his eyebrows, feeling streams of life quickly fill back into him as you speak. “We’re lab partners today.” 

For Peter, it’s like the skies have parted and a higher power has granted him a gift. He forces himself to contain his grin, concerned with freaking you out if he indicates just how joyous he feels.

“I already set up over there so whenever you’re ready.” You gesture towards the corner of the room, noting once before you shuffle away, leaving Peter breathless behind you. He takes a deep breath as he quickly adjusts his hair, cursing himself for not picking a better sweater in his haste to leave his apartment this morning. He walks towards you languidly, glancing at Ned who gives him the thumbs up, but you’re in no way watching him. Instead, while he slides into the seat next to you, you’ve devoted the entirety of your attention to your notebook. 

He watches you with a dreamlike expression as you narrate the steps of your procedure. Despite the safety precautions articulated to him on multiple occasions, his chin rests in his palm as he watches your lips, nodding when you peek at him for reassurance. He does his part, he really does, but your focused expression is swoon worthy so lets you take the lead, following your timid orders. To him, however, you do not appear to share the same sentiment as you work in relative silence, your expression hard and focused solely on the substances bubbling in the glassware in front of you. He feels twinges of disappointment when his attempts to speak to you are met with one-word responses, but being around you is enough to keep the butterflies fluttering in his chest.  

Suddenly, an idea pops into Peter’s head after the two of you have been taking data for a bit over twenty minutes, the wonders of high school chemistry not enough to stimulate him. He nudges your shoulder with the eraser side of his pencil, and you hum in response. “What do you do with a dead scientist?”

“What?”

“It went okay.” He shrugs jokingly, cheering internally as he notices a sliver of one of your gentle smiles start to appear. “Why can you never trust atoms?” 

“Because they make up everything?” You shake your head, balancing the glassware in your gloved hands as you stifle a laugh. 

Peter blushes, shrugging again, only this time he makes a face. “Yeah but... everybody knows that one.” 

“Okay,” You say, catching a glimpse of his amused expression out of the corner of your eye, “Then why did the noble gas cry?” You ask. More giddily than he intended, Peter asks why, his beam never departing from his cheeks. “Because all its friends Argon.” You say matter-of-factly. Though the joke is nowhere near funny, he laughs anyway, too caught up in how pretty you are when you grin to care. 

“I will admit it; that was a good one.” Peter laughs, waggling his finger at you. “Well played.” 

You hum in response, and just like that it’s like you deflate right in front of him, your body stiffening again as the warmth you showed him deflates from your body. You work in silence for a while, Peter watching you pipet the last of your saline solution into a beaker. He isn’t careful not to focus too intently on the adorable way your face twists when you concentrate when he clears his throat. He’s careful not to focus too intently on the adorable way your face twists when you concentrate, or how when your hair falls out of its up do you impulsively push it out of the way, because if he focused on that or any other one of your lovely quirks he’d be glued to his chair, staring at you forever. 

"Have you started studying for the test?” Peter inquires, trying to appear casual as he scribbles something into his notebook. 

You nod, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as you gently shake the now color changing fluid in your beaker. “I’m not so good on the empirical formulas but I think I’ll be fine.” You shrug, adding a measurement to your list 

“I could help you if you want. Maybe tonight?” Peter offers, watching as your downcast eyes widen. Suddenly, your throat feels completely dry, as if you hadn’t joked around with him one a few minutes before. 

“I think I’ll be okay.” You force out, your gritted teeth stuttering your words. Your grip on the pencil in your hand tightens and you swear under your breath when you realize you’ve been writing the same thing over and over again in an effort to focus your attention away from him. "I have to work tonight anyway.” Your voice is quiet, but you sound way more clipped than you intended.

“Maybe some other time?” He suggests, his eyes hopeful. 

“Yeah sure, Peter. But I should go.” You say, glancing up at his now stricken face for only a moment before you collect yourself and shuffle out of the classroom. 

“You know, I’ve heard that story five times even though it happened six hours ago but it seems to get more depressing every time.” Ned taunts. Peter grumbles something rude that Ned ignores, his smug smile never leaving his face. “You wanna stop for some sympathy snacks?” Ned gestures to the bright café sign only a couple feet away. Peter nods, following him in. 

“I know I’m pathetically into (Y/N) and all but I really feel like if we just- OW!” Peter exclaims, rubbing the already fading pain in his ribcage. He looks incredulously at Ned, whose eyes are wide with warning as they dart between him and the sight in front of you. Following his eye-line, Peter crosses his arms over his chest, “Ned what the he-”

Peter’s heart stops dead in his chest when he sees it, the words leaving his mouth as soon as he does. You are weaving your way through at the random assortment of mismatched furniture with the most effortless smile on your face. You brush past your coworkers with exuberance and light, balancing cups and sandwiches and cookies with ease. You’re even going to far as to dance to the quiet music playing in the background. Your striped apron accentuates your curves and the warm light illuminates your features; and in Peter’s eyes, you’re heavenly. He’s never seen you this way and he adores it in every way imaginable. you’re taking his breath away and you don’t even know it. 

Ned drags his friend by the arm, physically having to place him at a table as he sits his opposite. He doesn’t bother to strike up any form of conversation with Peter, because he is, quite outwardly, gazing at you with sparkly, lovestruck eyes. Taking no notice to them, you flip through your notepad as you walk towards their table, automatically giving them your best customer pleasing smile. 

"Hi I'm (Y/N), what can I get-" Your eyes widen as you find yourself staring into Peter's eyes. Feeling your hands clam up, you almost drop your pencil on their table. Peter watches worriedly as your entire demeanor shifts from that tender relaxation to frigid distress. 

"(Y/N)! I didn't know you worked here." Peter says, not inconspicuous in the slightest. His shoulders are slouching for what feels like the millionth time, and you break the brief eye contact you shared, choosing to look at Ned's welcoming face instead. 

"I... uh..." You're blushing furiously and playing with your messy hair, looking desperately at your blank notepad for help. "Y-Yeah. It's my dad's place and I um.” You awkwardly smile, gesticulating between the kitchen and the two of them, “Well what can I get you?" 

Ned grants you the relief you're desperate for when he asks for hot chocolates, giving you time to run back to the counter and hide behind the coffee machine. Unbeknownst to the two boys, the reason you take so long to come back is because your hands were shaking so bad that you spilled Ned’s mug twice. You come back almost ten minutes later, maneuvering your way through the bustle of the late evening rush and placing your tray on their table. 

“Two hot chocolates and one scone because I know how much you like them.” You say, winking at Ned who bashfully grins, gesturing at you to stop. Peter watches, awestruck as your completely normal friendship with Ned unfolds right before his eyes, where the layers of your sometimes harsh exterior have peeled away and you, perfect, lovely, beautiful you, is out in the open. 

“We’re going to be closing in about an hour but if you need anything I’ll be around.” You say. The boys nod at you and you rush back to the counter, hiding behind the pastry rack on one of the stools. Your coworkers and friends give you exasperated looks that beg for you to just tell him, but you shoo them away. Leaning your chin in your palm with a doe-eyed expression, you watch Peter from afar, admiring everything about him from the way his mouth moves when he speaks to how the light in the café bounces off his freckled nose. How he does it is a complete mystery and how you put up with it is even more so. All you know is, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to shake him. 

You have to beg one of your coworkers to take their table, and after promising to work her shift on Friday, she agrees, giving you an empathetic look through her more mature eyes. You’re working the register for the duration of your shift, but eventually, when you look up he and Ned have disappeared, and if it weren’t for your shaky hands, you would've hoped you imagined the painfully awkward encounter. Sighing, you walk back out to the main seating, clearing up tables and bidding farewell to the last of your customers. 

Outside, Peter is dragging his feet against the pavement, his face contorted into a deep set frown. “She never came back.” He reiterates, unaware of Ned’s growing annoyance. He kicks the snow caked at his feet, glancing gloomily back at the restaurant as he does so. “I should’ve gone up to the register Ned. I should’ve just-”

Ned stops abruptly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look dude. Do you like her?” He asks, clapping his hands together. Despite how much he loves Peter like a brother, he finds him so clueless at times it’s painful. 

“Of course I do.” Peter replies, his face twitching with confusion. “You know I do.” 

Ned’s expression is deadpanned as he looks at his best friend, rolling his eyes as he speaks. “Then go.” He says, gesturing towards the restaurant. “If you like her so much then tell her you idiot.” 

Peter’s brushes off the insult in Ned’s voice as he chews his lip. nodding to repeatedly to himself. “I’m gonna do it.” He affirms, puffing out his chest. He repeats the phrase excitedly, grinning at Ned who practically feels obligated to get just as excited. Ned pats on his shoulder, giving him a tight lipped smile before he gently shoves him in the direction of the door.

“Go get him tiger!” He calls, raising his eyebrows as he waves him good luck. 

“I’m gonna do it!” Peter cheers, his eyes crinkling from the size of his grin. For the moment, he’s locked all reservations  away in a tight box in his mind, choosing instead to think of a scenario where you tell him you like him just as much, where he can kiss you and touch you and finally get to look into your eyes when he does so. He grabs Ned by the shoulders and beams, shaking him lightly before he sprints away, leaving his friend standing proud on the sidewalk. 

“Guy in the chair.” Ned says to himself, chuckling under his breath. “I am so the guy in the chair.”

Peter’s shuffles back into your tiny café, the sound of wind chimes beckoning your attention. You glance up from your place cleaning glasses, and immediately look back down, alarm bells going off in your head. You can’t control the tenseness that erupts in your body, but you’re struggling to balance your boiling adoration upon recognizing Peter, and his stupid maroon hat that adorably sits on the mop of curls that lay flat on his forehead. You can see him approaching you out of the corner of your eye, and you can feel your face getting hot upon the realization that this time, Ned isn’t trailing behind him. He’s walking earnestly, his shoulders slumped and his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

“Peter! Hi! Did you leave something?" You ask, placing one of the now clean glasses on the rack. Peter simply shakes his head, smiling at you gently.

“No, I just came to...” He trails off, glancing behind you at the hot chocolate special featured on the menu behind you. “Pick up some hot chocolate for my Aunt!” He says, cracking a smile. “She has a cold and she says you guys have the best in Queens.” Your flush intensifies at the compliment as you nod. 

“We’re about to close but I can make you some?” You offer, watching as his grin changes from its cheekiness to joy as he accepts it. “Just take a seat at the counter. It’ll take one second.” You instruct, gesturing towards one of the seats. Unsure of where the bit of confidence has stemmed from, you happily make the cocoa, paying special attention to the finer details. 

“Thanks (Y/N).” Peter says, warmth in his voice. You turn your back to him, following the steps you know all too well as he starts to speak behind you. “Look I...” He plays with his fingers, taking a deep breath, “I know you had to work today and all but if you ever want to hang out I would love to. And I can conjure up some more interesting jokes if you want.” He awkwardly chuckles, looking up at you nervously. 

You open your mouth to say something, but no words escape from your throat. Your whole body freezes around the large paper cup, As much as you didn’t want to, when you turn around your face is stricken, devoid of all color and every emotion except for what appears to be complete abhorrence. 

You silently nod, the only sound reverberating through the room being the airy sound of the whipped cream canister. 

Peter sighs, shaking his head to himself at he glances heavenward. “Forget the drink. I’m just gonna go.” He says. Peter’s out of his chair and gesturing towards the door. He looks towards you in the split second that you stop yourself from saying something, slouching further when you decide against it. Shaking his head, he’s halfway towards the door when you let out a noise, somewhere between a groan and a cry,  but nevertheless, it was an act of surrender.

“Peter, wait.” You call, setting the hot chocolate down on a nearby table. He turns around with a grimace on his face and what appears to be glistening eyes. It feels like all the air has been taken out of your lungs when you see him look so disappointed, shaking his head at you. 

“What?” 

“Just,” You look at your shuffling feet, leaving your arms crossed behind your back. “Don’t go.” You tell him, your voice almost completely inaudible. 

After a second of silence, Peter clears his throat, his voice cracking. “Look (Y/N),” He pauses, crossing his arms over his chest and exchanging his weight between his feet. “I like you, I really do. But if you don’t want this,” He gestures between the two of you, making your breath hitch, “I won’t chase you anymore."

“It freaks me out okay!” You exclaim, watching a confused expression overtake Peter’s features. You look at me and your eyes are perfect and it makes me feel all flushy and weird and I like you so much that I hate you for it!” It takes you only a second to realize what you said and cover your mouth immediately, your eyes wide but bearing straight into his. 

He blinks twice, closing his hung open mouth. “What?”

“I like you.” You mumble under your breath. Peter’s enhancements allowed him to hear what you said perfectly, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he steps towards you, offering his hand. “I don’t think I got that.” Peter pulls you by the hand, interlocking your fingers and pressing them to his chest. “One more time?”

“I like you okay?” You huff, your words slightly more audible. Feeling embarrassed, you hang your head, your stomach flipping upside down. A few inches away from you, Peter frowns only slightly as he shakes his head.

"Don't you dare," Peter starts, tenderly brushing the loose hair from your face and exposing your eyes. You feel his first two fingers under the tip of your chin, gently guiding your head up so that you have no choice but to look him in the eyes. At the time, you didn't realize it, but you definitely let out a little gasp, because yes, from afar, Peter's cute; he's soft and strong and so many things you could never describe. But from up close, he's easily the most beautiful person you've ever seen. When you look at him, you're in awe at the purse of his lips, and the freckles splayed across his nose and cheeks. It's his eyes that capture you the quickest. They're pools of sparkling browns that melt into yours, so bright and calming that you're cursing yourself for avoiding them for so long. "You are going to look at me so I can see just how pretty you are." He searches your eyes like they’re unexplored maps, their serene color lulling him. “It’s kind of hard when you’re looking down all the time.”

“Stop..." You mumble, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "You're embarrassing me." 

"Am I making you all flushy?" Peter teases, wiggling his eyebrows, with a grin spread wide across his freckly cheeks. 

Reluctantly, you nod, overjoyed when you see his smile widen and chuckles escape past his lips. "Will you stop making the stupid chemistry puns now?" You ask, quirking your brow. Peter rolls his eyes, his smile never fading as he looks at you, and you’re looking right back, your eyes glistening with his affection. 

“Are you made of Fluorine, Iodine, and Neon?”

"Oh god.”

[sologxlaxies]

And Some by Virtue Fall

Summary: When unfortunate circumstances force you to seek help from one of the dancers in a stripping club, your life gives a sudden turn for the unexpected.

Warnings: swearing. Strupper! Bucky which is a warning in itself... anyways this is dirty yo! 18+ Only

Word count: 4757

A/N: This is my submission for @marvelous-fvcks writing challenge! My prompt was “lap dance” and while this isn't specifically a lap dance it certainly gets very, very close... *ahem*

I’m so exited a bout this and how it turned out... hope you enjoy!

A thousand thanks to my sweet yogurt wife Kumi @rotisserierogers for betaing this for me... I love you.

He is breathtaking. The stage lights shine bright above his head, drawing all the attention in the room to him in his black pants and shirt, hair tousled and falling over his eyes in soft curls. He looks almost angelic, standing in the middle of the crowded place.

It’s only too bad that he’s anything but.

The room comes alive the moment the lights turn on, the slight smell of sweat floating through the air, carrying a mixture of scents that you know all too well; excitement, drunkenness, lust. It’s a full house tonight; an important night. You see it in the glasses, filled almost to the brim with sweet liquor, in the delicate lace barely covering the girls’ bodies and the hooded eyes of the men who beckon them with their fingers; it’s in the soft moans and grunts that fill the room and in the hooded gazes thrown around like confetti. It’s in the very air of the place, sticking to your skin like perspiration and making your body tingle; hyper aware of every nerve in your body as you're overwhelmed with the atmosphere of the club.

You don’t like it.

 Every single cell in your body is practically screaming at you to leave, unease bubbling in your stomach with every passing second and your heart beating faster every time the waitresses as much as graze a hair on your body. Even through your multiple layers of clothes, you still feel naked under the people’s gazes. But the second the lights dim and the reflectors come to life over the round stage, it’s as if time was pulling to a sudden stop.

 He’s the reason you’re here—the man walking up to the stage—and judging by the way the room grows silent at the sight of him, you can guess you're not the only one particularly interested in seeing him. Even if your motives are entirely different than everyone else's.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give a hand for James.”

All the lights zero in on him at the announcement and the room roars to life once again, but this time the air shifts, and you have to take a deep breath out of fear of choking, feeling the intoxicating scent of the man filling your lungs and making your knees weak. Only he could have this kind of effect and you know it, but feeling it for the first time, seeing how the hairs on the back of your wrists raise on end and gasping for breath… It's not something you'd ever thought you feel.

 Adoration, excitement, curiosity, lust… fear.

You didn't really know what to expect until the song starts playing; at first just a combination of slightly out of tune notes that soon turn into the soft, sensual strumming of an acoustic guitar that builds up slowly. As the melody builds, you can feel the anticipation growing amongst the audience, with the men and women alike practically jeering at the man in question amongst the sea of lace and grinding bodies and sweat mixing with several drinks.

He hasn't moved from his spot in the center of the stage, where he stands barefoot and with his lower lip caught between his teeth as his eyes take in the room. It reminds you of a lion hunting for its prey, and you can't help but pull your clothes a bit tighter around yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

James starts to walk forward, tantalizingly slow as soon as the melody picks up, letting his feet slide slightly over the wood before he stops, letting his hips move in sync with the song. It's amazing how the slight rocking of his hips is enough to get you flustered, heat pooling in your belly and lower. It's enough to get the voice in your head to quiet down, your desire to flee the room no longer present. Instead, you want to come closer, smell him, touch him. It's not even 30 seconds into the song and he already has you wrapped around his finger.

His hips swing with more purpose now, and he's closed his eyes, letting his own hands roam his torso and over his clothes, fisting at his black dress shirt to lift it up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin right over the waistband of his pants that has you salivating.

He lets his body roll, moving like a current. You're not even sure how he does it, but he moves in complete sync with the music, sex practically rolling off of him with every roll of his hips, one hand flying to lift up his shirt, revealing the soft, smooth skin of his stomach.

Unlike his fellow dancers, James is smaller, leaner. And he seems impossibly unreal with the light shining over the pale, hard ridges of his stomach that contract and shift at his will. He looks downright sinful, and completely at ease in the shady establishment, a few droplets of perspiration already forming on his skin.

The shirt falls to cover him again before his strong hands pop the top open in a flash, giving you a peek of his chest that soon translates into the rest of his naked torso when he rips the shirt open. Little black buttons fall all over the stage, and some of them are still in the air when dozens of hands have already reached out to grab them, fingers longing for whatever piece of him they can seize and touch and call their own.

Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, he opens his eyes, fluttering his eyelashes as he smiles, reveling in the attention he's getting before his gaze focuses on you, smirking.

There's a chair near the edge of the stage that you don't notice until he's sauntering around it, coming to face the back before he smiles sweetly at the crowd, the look in his eyes anything but innocent. One of his legs is propped over the chair as his movements grow wider, bolder, and a hand deftly pops open the button of his pants.

When the music swells, it's as if his body has a mind of its own, hips rocking and hands everywhere, roaming and circling until they come to rest at the waistband of his black jeans and he starts to pull down, down, giving everyone a peek of his dark blue underwear. He circles the chair like that, once, two times only to come back, this time grinding his entire body against it, bare skin against wood as he tugs his pants lower until he's pulled them off completely. Dark blue underwear is the only thing covering him now, the color complimenting the blue of his hooded eyes.

You think you're having a hard time breathing right until James sinks to his knees and slides over the floor, back firmly pressed against the wood with his only support being his feet firmly planted on the stage. He waits for a couple of beats before he’s exploding, his back arching off the floor as his hips lift off the ground, giving everyone an eyeful of his hardening cock, and when he touches it? One hand roaming down his chest until it comes to palm himself, you’re pretty sure you're about to pass out.

But you don't.

Instead, your eyes are glued to his writhing form and his bucking hips as he climbs over the chair again, and when his groin accidentally touches the chair and his lips form a pretty little O at the unexpected contact, it's you who actually moans.

It's enough for his eyes to fall back on you, boring into yours as he takes a hand through his hair, letting his dark brown curls fall around his eyes. After that it feels like he's putting a show entirely for you, his moves turning impossibly looser and more suggestive, making you shift in your spot against a column because no matter what you do, you're completely enraptured by the man on the stage.

Sweat is dripping down his body at this point. Droplets falling over his chest and abs as he ghosts his hands down his body tugging at his underwear as you both lick your lips in anticipation. Heat is pooling in your cheeks and between your legs, and the feeling so so new, so raw that all you want is to come up to the stage and touch him, let him have his way with you right there and then in the middle of the stage.

When the music nears its end, he crawls over the floor, grinding his hips against the wood and he actually, moans this time, repeating the movement, mouth falling open in pure bliss as he fucks himself against the stage, pressing down while his lust blown eyes never leave the audience.

You're almost sure you're about to melt, but then his entire body undulates against the floor one more time before he rises to his knees, his hips bucking and chest arching as he grabs at his hair with one hand and forms a fist with the other, clawing at the wooden floor like he's about to fall apart at the seams on that stage and share his orgasm with the audience. It's too much. And you find yourself lost when the lights go out and the song ends, leaving you afloat in a sea of screaming women and air that smells like lust, forgetting for a moment why you came here in the first place.  

You understand now, why the house is packed, because he hasn't even touched you and yet you feel hot all over; burning, your entire body thrumming with desire. And all you can do is race to the bathroom to splash water on your face before you spontaneously combust, catching a glimpse of James afterwards as he collects his clothes along with the loose bills all over the floor, women reaching out to him with shiny greens on their hands only to get a touch of his skin.

There's no time to lose now that you’ve confirmed James is here, even with the alarms going off in your head now that you've seen what he can do, but he's your only option right now, and you need him. 

Attempting to summon the confidence that you clearly don't have, and still trying to shake off the tingling feeling that lingers after his performance, you walk silently towards the small hallway behind the stage where the dressing rooms are, hoping to find him in his. It proves to be trickier than you thought, when you find a swarm of women already lining up, ready to pounce on him if he steps out, but you manage to avoid most of them, wincing when you have to push your way through a particularly large crowd in order to reach the opposite wall that connects directly with the bathroom door, sneaking behind a thick curtain that leads to the dressing rooms.

You're almost through, confident that no one is looking as you race through the seemingly empty hall, right before a strong hand wraps itself around your forearm.

“Excuse me miss,” the voice belongs to one of the club’s bouncers “but that area is off limits.”

Caught.

“Oh, I'm so sorry” you try your best to smile your way out of it, throwing your head back like you've seen so many women do, but the guard looks positively unimpressed. “I just need to talk to James for a second.” You tell him.

“With all due respect, miss” he continues “you're not the first of his… fans that's tried to talk to him today, but I'm afraid that's impossible.” The way he suggests it makes you feel dirty somehow, slightly offended even, because you're not looking for sex, but that is definitely what he's implying.

You huff “But this is important.”

“Miss, I'm going to need you to come with me.” He insists once again, clearly used to dealing with women far more desperate than you.

“Please- you don’t understand-” you drop the flirty façade almost immediately, knowing that this is your only chance. Because flirting is never going to get you inside his dressing room but a bit of desperation just might. So you keep pushing. “I have to talk to him. I need his help.”

“Right miss,” the bouncer doesn’t move an inch, pushing you back gently but fervently as another bouncer comes to escort you outside. “If you don't leave I'll be forced to call more security.”

“Please-” you squirm under the man’s grasp, trying your best to free your wrist and turn around to catch even a glimpse of James’ dressing room with no such luck. A sudden wave of dread fills your body, making your heart race, this time out of fear because if they find you you're not going to make it through the night. And because desperate circumstances call for desperate measures, you find yourself calling out his name.

“James! -” the guard pulls harder on your arm this time, making you stumble against the wall. You gasp, letting out a loud welp of pain.

“Let her go.” a deep, gruff voice calls out to where you’re standing, and the security guards immediately straighten up. It's him, you're sure of it, because even if you can't see him you recognize his scent and feel the dark pull drawing you towards him.

“This one was trying to sneak in” begins one guard, trying to explain himself “We caught her trying to enter your dressing room and-”

“And you’re going to let go of her arm and send her in now.” James finishes for him, anger evident in his voice. “She’s with me.”

It becomes almost impossible to mask your smugness when the guard let's go of you, muttering his apologies, but you don't have enough time to bask in the feeling before another emotion makes its way into your head… Curiosity. Taking a couple of guarded steps, you approach the door on the far end of the hallway, peeking inside to where James is lounging against an armchair.

“Come in” he says, his voice sultry and deep just like you imagined it to be, complying you to fully open the door and come inside.

His dressing room is rather large, which comes as no surprise given the sheer size of the club. It's dark and beckoning, littered with candles on every corner of the room. It's not much different than the rest of the club, the walls painted the same black color and the same tainted windows against the dark bricks, but if the club’s focus was the stage, the dressing room seems to revolve around an ornate, full length mirror propped up against the opposite wall of a leather couch where James is perched on.

He looks at you like a predator, seizing you up before he speaks again. “Well, come on. No need to be shy around me… Angel.”

He knows. Your entire body locks up in panic the second those words leave his lips because you can tell he knows. He seems to be fully aware of what you are, and that means he knows you know he’s one of you as well… Or, was.

“H- how-” you stutter “how did you know?”

“Oh please. You still reek of heaven” he sneers, turning up his nose in disgust like he's smelled something rotten “Besides… coming to this place all dressed like an eskimo was kind of a dead giveaway. But don’t worry, the air isn’t tainted in here, you can take that jacket off.”

He's talking about the strange mixture floating in the air of the club, an intermingling of alcohol and sweat and something else that makes your lower belly warm. You recognize it, but it's surprisingly absent in this room, so you oblige, carefully shrugging off one sleeve, then the other one until you're left in a black shirt that's almost like the one he was wearing earlier.

“Well, see?” he says after you take off your jacket and hang it over a nearby chair. “I told you it was safe. Now tell me, what’s a pretty little angel like you doing so far away from home?” He asks coyly, grabbing the hem of your shirt between two fingers, feeling the rough material beneath his fingertips

“Like I said to your… bodyguards.” You swat his hand away with a quick slap. “I need help.” He seems positively amused.

“You need help with…” he leaves the question hanging in the air.

“A place to stay, for now. And maybe a change of clothes, unless I want to catch a disease.” You say, wrinkling your nose and pulling at your clothes, just now remembering the sweaty air outside that's still sticking to your clothes.

“Now doll, that’s awfully rude. “He frowns. “I would never allow anything like that to spread in here; the people just happen to like a little… passion.”

“Says the man who spreads his own scent around to get his clients all excited. You do know that it’s addicting to humans, right?”

A devilish grin spreads on his lips, and you feel your knees about to give in when a fresh wave of his pheromones washes over you. He’s probably doing it to annoy you, knowing angels hate the stuff, but given your current circumstances, his scent has the desired effect, making your pupils dilate and your heart speed up, making you hyper aware of him while you try to hide how flustered you are.

He scoffs “We’re getting cocky now?” James rises from his spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow as he looks you up and down, eyes lingering on every bit of exposed skin. “Careful sweetheart, I haven’t agreed to help you just yet. You know very well that those kinds of things come at a price”

“Oh really?” You ask him a little more daringly this time —the little pheromone boost helping your confidence. “And what would that prize be?”

“For starters…” he trails off, the smirk returning with full force, “I’m sure that pretty little mouth of yours could do a lot more things than just talking back at me.” And then suddenly he's right in front of you, one hand tilting your chin up before he leans forward and crushes his lips with yours.

You moan against his mouth, finally reveling in the small zap of electricity that seems to light your body up as soon as you kiss, making fireworks spark behind your eyelids. The kiss is wet and messy, tongues and teeth scraping against each other as he pulls you closer by the loopholes on your jeans and you tug at his hair, making him moan instead.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He gasps, trailing little kisses from the corners of your mouth to the shell of your ear, and you can feel his hot breath on your skin when he whispers hotly. “Do it again.”

 Given the way his voice makes shivers run down your spine and wetness grow between your legs, you pull at his hair again, smiling against the crook of his neck when he grunts, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and making you sigh in pleasure, becoming putty in his hands.

Soon, however, you become impatient, tugging at the soft strands of hair to bring his lips back to yours again. But you don't count on him moaning at your ministrations, and you end up kissing him just as his lips part and he moans against your mouth, your tongue sliding against his as you interlock in a mess of hands and teeth and bodies grinding against each other; his muscled thigh wedging itself between your legs.

 His left hand is wrapped around your lower back, pulling your pelvis against his where you can feel him hard against your lower belly while the other hand on the nape of your neck keeps your head in place and makes you both groan at the intimate contact.

One of his hands begins to trail downwards, sneaking under the waistline of your pants and tracing the elastic of your underwear.

“James! I need-” you gasp, your hips rutting against his thigh almost of their own accord, looking for more of the delicious friction and trying to get his fingers where you want them most.

“Shhh, just a second doll” he murmurs in between kisses, “I'm gonna make you feel so good” and then he's backing you up against what you think is the couch until your back hits a wall. Hard.

You moan again, this time not in bliss but in pain as the fibers of your shirt are pressed against the open wound on your shoulder blades and the rough bricks scrape against it. “Agh!”

It's enough to make James stop dead in his tracks and pull back with a frown. His hand flies out of your pants like he had been burnt, but instead he's looking at you cryptically, not fully understanding what's just happened a few seconds ago. He takes a cautious step forwards and one of his hands reaches out to the brick wall you were just pressed against, sliding his hand over the surface.

You pale instantly when he pulls his arm back and you catch a glimpse of his fingertips smeared with your blood.

“What the-” James turns you around, facing the wall, and you wince when his hand touches your upper back, feeling the shirt sticky with blood press into your wound where his fingers are. You feel his hands ghosting over your neck before he rips the back of the shirt in half, exposing you. “Holy shit.”

There hasn't been a chance to look at your injuries. Not yet, but you can still imagine what he's seeing and it's not pretty. Your wings have been ripped from your back that still feels like fire; bloody, uneven gashes decorating your shoulder blades and scapulae where wings once used to be. Even if you're not the first angel who's had their wings ripped off, there's still a problem.

“You haven't healed.” He voices your exact thoughts. “Why haven't you healed?” You know it’s only a matter of time until he figures it out, the wheels already turning in his head.

“It's…” you stammer, suddenly embarrassed at this whole situation “it's hard to explain-”

“Bullshit!” He interrupts you, making you jump at his sudden outburst “You have your grace, you should've healed unless-” He's angry now, pulling away from you once again and turning you around to face him, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Unless you don't have it.”

You hang your head in shame, and he reads your reaction like a book. In a flash, he's lifting your chin up, grabbing it roughly with one hand, and you feel another fresh wave of his pheromones wafting around you. Trying your best to resist, you hold your breath, shaking with the effort it’s taking you to fight him, but his scent hits you once again, this time laced with what feels like anger, and it’s potent enough to make you gasp in pleasure, making your pupils dilate, thus confirming his suspicions. You're human.

“Shit!”

He looks beautiful when he's angry. All deep, blazing eyes and ragged breaths, teeth just a little bared and chocolate brown locks that fall out of place when he pushes them back roughly with his right hand. A small part of you—perhaps the human side of you that you've only just discovered—can't help but wonder if he has any idea of how blindingly beautiful he is… How deadly he can be.

But alas, he is right, and you should've never come to this place at all.

“I'm- I'm so sorry” you stammer, holding onto your shirt as much as you can to try and keep it from falling. “I am so stupid! I never should've come here, I… I'll be on my way.“ You scramble for your jacket, pulling it tight against you in spite of the pain it causes to your back, clinging to it like the last shred of your decency as you make your way to the door, back hunched and cold sweat dripping down your forehead now that you've lost so much blood. The back of your shirt now completely drenched.

His voice—though you're not sure if he even speaks at all—seems to reach you almost at the door. Halting your movements completely with just a simple “Wait.” And wait you do. Even if the silence that settles over the room seems deafening to your ears. “Someone’s coming.”

He pulls you back without warning, grabbing one of your arms and leading you to a big closet, practically shoving you inside it. Your feet get tangled on a pile of rumpled clothes at the bottom and you have to crouch to fit inside the piece of furniture. Suddenly he’s closing the door, leaving you lost in total darkness with barely any time to catch your feet, with nothing but a whisper. “Shhhh Angel.” he says “Stay quiet and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Having your sight taken from you, you strain your ears to hear what’s going on, barely catching bits and pieces of muffled conversations. And yet you can’t help but notice how every hair on your body seems to stand on end, and it’s like your brain turns into overdrive, running every possible scenario that keeps getting gloomier and gloomier, the walls almost closing in on you until you can’t breathe.

Two more seconds, you can’t help but think. Two more seconds and you’re sure you’ll go crazy, but then the door is opening again and you all but fall right on the floor as your legs shake from the effort of being crouched in the tiny closet, leaning on the wall for support.

James seems agitated somehow, a bit of his cool demeanor seemingly gone as he stares at you with an unwavering gaze. “There are people out there looking for you doll... I want you to tell me why.” He is ruthless, releasing another wave of pheromones into the air and you can tell he is getting impatient; see it flickering right behind his eyes, and it frightens the hell out of you, especially when he’s grabbing your chin and you catch the barest of blazes in his eyes.

You whimper, feeling your heart about to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s beating; already dizzy from the adrenaline and the blood loss. At this point, all you can do is whimper both in fear and in pain, hoping for mercy, because you’d rather die at the hands of this man then let them take you. 

The pained wail is enough to make him stop dead in his tracks and release you, allowing your body to lean completely against the wall once again. It’s like he’s only noticing you for the first time, your shaking limbs and fearful eyes and your bloodied back, bright scarlet against the fabric of your clothes. You look so vulnerable to him, so human, that it makes him take a step back.

You stand still as James reaches out for you again, slower this time, as if he was calculating his every movement before doing it, and you can't help but hold your breath, flinching when he tries to pull the jacket off of you, feeling the fibers cling to your wound and pulling painfully at it.

“Stand still” he whispers, one hand coming to rest at your shoulder. It grounds you, quieting down all the frenzied thoughts in your mind except for the one that can focus only in the warmth of his hand. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“But will you?” You ask, still fearful of him “Hurt me, I mean. That's what the blade is for.” You clarify, looking at what you recognize as an angel blade resting on top of his dresser; all shiny metal, delicate and deadly. The only weapon capable of killing an angel.

“I can't touch it if that's what you're worried about.” He shrugs. “And you're under my protection now, Angel. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

His words resonate in your head, making a strange sort of calm settle over your bones. And still… “How about others?” Your question makes one corner of his mouth to turn up in a hint of a smile.

“I guess,” he says, drawing his left thumb over your cheek, “that’s not your jurisdiction sweetheart. You’re no longer a guardian angel.”

SHOULD I WRITE A PART 2???? Feedback is greatly appreciated <3

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[sebbytrash]

желание - Part Seven

Longing: A yielding desire

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings - Swear words. I’m Scottish, I can’t help it.  A little angst, I’m sorry. Some kissing. Bucky needs a hug. Everybody needs a hug.

A/N: REPOSTING BECAUSE OF BLOG MOVE

желание Masterlist

Bucky POV

Bucky wakes before you, his sharpened senses unable to ignore the soft glow of sunrise peeking through the slates on his window. His room gleams a fiery orange, every surface dancing with it.

He glances down at you, curled tight against him, hair fanned out around you in a wild halo. Last night had been… everything. There was something so freeing about finally giving into his desires for you. No longer waging a war against his own body, his own heart; this was the lightest he had felt in a very long time, probably since before Hydra. He skims the backs of his fingers down your skin, watching as goosebumps break out after each touch. He smoothes his thumb over your bottom lip, chasing it with his lips. He’s revelling in the freedom of that feeling, of just being able to touch and kiss you simply because he wants to. He knows the instant you wake, as a lazy frown mar’s your face and your grip on him tightens ever so slightly as though you worry he will disappear. A sliver of guilt breaks its way free at that thought knowing he is the one to plant those tiny doubts in your mind.

“Morning,” he whispers against your mouth, that oh so beautiful mouth.

“Mmmm…” you mumble incoherently, sleep still pulling at you, “We seriously need to get you some blackout curtains.”

He laughs a little at that, but is hanging off the way you said ‘we’ like you were a team now. Like it was the most natural thing in the world

“Whatever you say, Doll.”

You open your eyes and peer at him, your face open and curious. Bucky maps your face with his eyes, dragging in deep vats of air into his lungs to steady himself. He knows he has to talk to you, explain himself a little given the way he caveman-ed all over you last night. Dragging you from the club like you were property, his property...he can’t help the warm buzz he gets from that particular thought.

“So...last night was…” Doubt floods your face and you duck your head a little, eyes lowering, and it sucker punches his heart. He brings his hand up to cup your face, thumb pressing just under your jaw to tilt your head back up to his, “Last night was amazing.” He enunciates every word slowly, watching as each one hits you.

“O-oh..yeah- yeah it was.” The smile that breaks out on your face knocks the wind from him. God, so beautiful. His heart gives a little stutter, and his lips find their way to yours, dancing softly over them. It’s like the dam has broken, now that he stopped fighting it he can’t keep his hands, or lips, off you.

“It's just- I want… I’m not looking for a one time thing, doll.” The words feel thick in his mouth as he says them, trying to coax his mouth into telling you what he wants.

“Uh? What, like a friends with benefits kinda thing? I don’t think-” You voice pitches a little, the disappointment weighing.

“Shit, no. God no. I mean, if you want, I’d like to see where this thing between us goes.”

“Oh. OH. Like dating?” He nods his head, knowing full well he’s given you no real reason to want this with him, “Uh, yeah. Yes. I’d like that.”

With that, his heart is gone. Soaring and dipping, leaving his body behind to cocoon you tight against him. He dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongue invading your mouth as his fingers dance across your jaw and disappear in your hair. A moan escapes your mouth and he swallow it up, his fingers tightening in your hair and the kiss turns deeper. He rolls over, pinning you beneath him with his hips, his solid weight pressing your further into the mattress. He loves this, the feel of you under him, so open and responsive even if he doesn't deserve it. He could stay here forever.

Reader POV

He's making you forget yourself, your fingers tangled in his hair, legs wrapped around his waist as his lips steal your sanity. There's more you want to say, or ask, but his fingers have now found their way down your neck and they’re resting on your collarbone with clear intent.

“Nrrgghh, B-Bucky...” You pull back from him, breaths coming a little choppy now, and rest your forehead on his, “What happened, you know, at the club?”

His eyes bore into you as your breaths mingle, his face darkens for a beat before it clears, a smirk forming.

“Oh, you mean when I acted like a possessive bastard and practically dragged you out?” You release a small laugh, and nod, “I just couldn't do it. I couldn't watch you with anyone else, when I saw his hands on you...I snapped.”

“I guess I just don't understand, you seemed like you regretted the kiss. Like you weren't interested. I was only at the club to try to forget you in the first place.”

“I know, I was just...scared? I don't know, at first it was frustrating to me because it's been so long since I've been in control of me, ya know? So when I started to feel things for you, my instinct was to fight them.” He pauses for a beat and drags a hand roughly through his hair, his eyes everywhere but yours.

“But you were the only thing that helped with the nightmares, so fighting them was ridiculous really when I was climbing into your bed every night. Then after the attack and I realised that everything was still there, t-that I could still be The Winter Soldier, there was no way I could be alone with you again. So I avoided you, because it's what I do.”

He gives you a wry smile as he finally meets your eyes, a glimmering of pain evident in them.

“Steve kept saying I was being stupid, because you were the one who snapped me out of it, but I was stubborn and terrified and so I ignored him. I think I knew we were inevitable though, because as soon as I seen that asshole put his hands on you I lost my shit completely. I'm sorry about that, well, sort of. It led us to this…”

You listen as he explains, his voice barely above a whisper but still nestling its way into your gut and settling there. Understanding washes over you, and perhaps a little guilt. Of course it would be difficult for him, after everything he’s been through, and you’d pouted for weeks over it. You understood him better now, granted this was the longest conversation you’d ever had with the man. But at least you knew this thing was real, this pull between you, that it was solid and breathing.

“I’m in this Bu- James. Are you in this with me?”

“Fuck yes. I know I’ve given you reason to doubt me, but I’ll show you.”

And he did.

All day.

Several times.

You venture out of Bucky’s room that evening, desperate for a shower and change of clothes, as nice as it was wearing his sweats and T-shirts. As though she freaking lives there, Nat is in the kitchen when you try to sneak passed.

“You. Asshole. Where the fuck did you go last night? Wait- are you...are you doing the walk of shame right now?” Her eyes dance and glitter as she says that last part, her anger quickly forgotten.

“Uhhh...maybe?” There’s no point in lying to her anyway. Assassin's know.

“Well, well Y/N. Getting some...finally. Tell me, who scratched that itch for you?”

“Erm...it’s...Bucky. Uh, I went home with Bucky.”

“About time, god, if i had to see you two eye-fucking each other one more time I swear I was gonna gouge my eyes out with a blunt spoon.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, completely unsurprised and unfazed by your life altering news.

“We did not-” Your voice is loud, too loud, and you glance around frantically to ensure no one is there before harshly whispering, “We did not ‘eye fuck’.”

“Puh-lease, I called that shit months ago. We even have a pool going to see how long it takes you to bang.”

“Natalia!” You duck your head at that, but can’t help that half smile that pulls across your face. It helps in the most ridiculous way, to know that someone other than you think that Bucky likes you. You enjoy the little buzzy warmth you get from that, “Just, just don’t tell the guys okay? We need to figure this out for ourselves without their meddling.”

“Oh. Oohh.”

“Oh what?”

“It's serious. Not just sex.”

“I guess so. I- I really like him Nat.”

She stares at you for a minute, that unflinching gratey stare that always makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“I think that’s pretty great actually. You two, you seem like a good fit. I like it. He needs someone ya know? Someone to help him put the pieces back. And you are exactly the kind of someone. Just, be careful...okay?”

You gulp in a breath letting it settle in your gut, knowing it’s past that point. There’s no undoing it now. This pull, well, you were pretty sure it was permanent.  

“I think it’s too late for careful now, Nat. Pretty sure I’m already in love with him.”

[bluegreenamber]

Your Brother Was a Good Substitute

((AN: Greetings! I hereby bring to you an ancient manuscript from a time in my EW fanfiction writing career long ago. Translation: I was digging through my documents and found this and decided to post it in between stories. You guys remember TimPay, right? I do. Man, I was obsessed with it. I wrote such cringey stuff for it back then. But hopefully this one is good enough to show the world and not become completely embarrassed. You know, I've never really been good with writing Tim. Idk I just don't have his character down completely I guess. Anyways! I should probably warn that there is some suggestive humor and stuff because it is Pay after all. Just in case. This is based on the song "Gold" by Kiiara. Tim belongs to princeofmints and Pay belongs to threehairs.)) The theme was gold. That much was obvious from the second he opened the door. The whole room was filled with gold. Gold clothes, gold accessories, gold decorations, gold lights. The color was everywhere. He didn't quite know what to make of this. But the DJ was blaring music and people were dancing wildly and drinking heavily and enjoying themselves. It was a party, and he wasn't going to complain about the color scheme. His brother tugged him forward, pulling them through the sea of bodies. “He's downstairs.” He nearly had to shout to be heard. Choosing not to attempt to talk over the music and voices seemed the smartest choice, so he simply nodded even though his brother wasn't looking back at him. They finally reached the edge of the crowd and headed toward a door. It was a little quieter here, and they could speak in normal voices. He crossed his arms. ���You sure you aren't setting me up with this guy, Pat? Cuz it sure seems like that's what's happening. And I know how much you love playing matchmaker for me.” His brother held up his hands defensively. “I swear it's not. I just thought I'd introduce you to a fellow alcohol connoisseur. And I don't want you to either be a bored wallflower all night or get drunk and take some random person home. Besides, he's not your type.” He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know? I mean, isn't everyone my type?” Patryk rolled his eyes. “No. As much as you may or may not wish that was so, I know you're more picky than you let on. Plus, this guy is really not your type.” “I'm sure I could win him over with my natural charm and a few drinks.” Patryk sighed and opened the door to reveal a stairway leading down to a basement, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “I'm not sure you want to, Pay.” He gestured to the stairway. Pay shot him a confused and suspicious look but said nothing. He started his way down the stairs. “Good luck,” Pat said. “And have fun. Just not too much.” Pay winked. “No promises.” He descended, and the stairway was plunged into semi darkness as Pat shut the door behind him. ~~~ “So you must be the alcohol guy.” Pay’s voice made the man on the couch jump. He spun around in his seat and stared at the newcomer. Pay noticed his strange black or lack of eyes, light brown hair, and checkered tie. He looked nervous. Not what he was expecting. He reached the bottom of the stairs and took a moment to take in the basement. Luckily, the gold theme didn't seem to have followed him down here. The other man was sitting in a small area with several couches and chairs placed in a circle, a coffee table in the center, and everything sitting on a large shag rug. There was a bar off to the side with a lighted wall and countertop. The farthest corner was too far away from all of the lights, which made it shrouded in complete darkness. He couldn't see anything in that corner. But what really drew his attention was the back wall, the one the man had been facing before he had entered. The entire wall was basically a giant shelf. And there was what he guessed were hundreds of varieties of alcohol in bottles and several kegs of what he assumed were full of more alcohol. It was like a giant wine cellar. So this was why the man had wanted to meet here. Pay turned back to the fidgety man, intrigued. Well if he had wanted to make an interesting first impression by showing him this, he had succeeded. When the man didn't reply to his earlier question though, Pay raised an eyebrow. “Well, are you?” The man took a second to process this before he shook his head rapidly. “No, no. You must be thinking of my brother. He's supposed to be meeting someone down here.” Pay crossed his arms and leaned against the end of the banister. “Where is he then? And what're you here for? You his wingman or something? I swear if Pat really set me up like this…” The man looked alarmed at Pay’s sudden anger. He seemed to be the rather nervous type. “Um… I think Tom went upstairs for a bit to talk to some friends. And he told me to wait down here in case the person he was meeting came. I'm… I'm not his wingman or anything.” “Well then, who are you?” Pay pushed himself off the banister and tilted his head, seeming almost oppressive. The man gulped. “I'm Tim. Tom’s brother.” “You an alcohol guy too, or…?” “No, not really. That's always been Tom’s thing. I just know the basics.” He scrunched his face up. “I don't really care much for alcohol.” Pay sighed. This night wasn't turning out as he was expecting. But maybe he could still make something out of it. He strode over to the couch and plopped down next to Tim, making the already tense man stiffen. Pay lounged comfortably while Tim sat straight-backed and stock-still as if ready to jump up and sprint off at any moment. It was almost amusing. “That's okay,” Pay replied. “I honestly wasn't much looking forward to our little ‘chit-chat get-together’ or whatever anyway. No offense to your brother or anything.” He snuggled deeper into his seat. “So I guess you'll just have to entertain me then.” Tim looked much like a mouse that was being played with by the cat that was about to eat it. “I'm not very good at entertaining, I'm afraid. And I'm not quite sure what you consider ‘entertaining.’” Pay actually laughed. “Oh, so you're the comedian then? This is brilliant!” He looked over Tim’s timidly uncertain face. “It's not that hard, you know. Entertaining me. I have the attention span of a squirrel. There's not much blood up here.” He rapped his knuckles against his head. “I think it all goes--” “Please don't,” Tim interrupted. He suddenly looked tired. Pay grinned cheekily. “What? You too ‘pure’ and ‘innocent’ for a few dirty jokes?” he asked mockingly. Tim looked like he was going to say something but then ended up sighing and shrugging helplessly. “If that's what you wanna believe, then sure.” Pay felt a sliver of concern and curiosity, but he simply pushed it aside and scoffed. “Innocence is for children and fools and people too lucky to suffer in life.” “Am I a fool then?” Tim challenged. “Or am I just ‘too lucky to suffer in life’?” Pay was taken aback by the seemingly timid guy’s sudden anger, but he wasn't going to back down from an argument. “You tell me, Mr. Too Good For Dirty Jokes.” Tim made a face. “I don't think I'm either. Lewd humor is just beneath me.” Pay crawled over, hovering over Tim so that their faces were only an inch apart. “Does that mean I'm beneath you too, Mr. High and Mighty?” he practically spat. His sneer morphed into a devilish smirk. “Because I can arrange that.” Tim shoved him away, and he fell back against the opposite armrest. Tim turned away, facing forward with his arms crossed like an angry child. “Please stop,” he said in the most ticked off tone he could muster. Pay shook his head like a dog, trying to recover from being thrown back. He looked at Tim’s posture and immediately mimicked it, blatantly mocking his childlike behavior. “Would've preferred your brother,” he grumbled. “Don't bring my brother into this,” Tim snapped. “Ohhhh, defensive, are we? What? Are you the stereotypical overprotective sibling?” “Why wouldn't I be? Don't you have anyone you're overprotective of?” Pay’s mind immediately thought of Pat, but he shook that image out of his head. “This isn't about me.” Tim finally turned to look at Pay again, giving him a withering look. “But isn't it? Isn't this all about you? You playing mind games with me? You pushing all of my buttons? You making sure you leave an impression so that I can never forget you? You saying and doing all the right things so that I'll like you?” Pay’s eyebrows furrowed. “I wasn't trying to make you like me.” Quite the opposite, in fact, he thought. Tim laughed without humor. “Well if you are, it's working.” Pay blinked, and it took a moment for the meaning of those words to fully sink in. He smirked. Tim hadn't realized quite what he was saying either, so his words came back to bite him a moment after he said them. He felt like groaning in exasperation of himself, but he refused to let go of his stubborn anger-induced pride and let the other know that he had messed up big time. So he sat back with his arms crossed again. “Did you just say you liked me?” Pay asked with a smug smile. When Tim refused to reply, he continued. “You did!” He laughed triumphantly. “You actually like me!” Then, he tilted his head curiously. “Why?” Tim turned back to Pay, a confused look on his face. “What do you mean ‘why’?” “Why would you like me? I've done nothing but annoy you and be rude to you and make you uncomfortable.” “Well… Why not? You're bold and funny and clever and confident and honest. What's not to like?” “A lot, actually.” Pay stared at the sofa cushions as if they could answer all of his questions in life. Tim glanced at him, and his anger melted away into concern. He wanted to move closer and give some kind of physical comfort, but he feared that that would be overstepping his boundaries. “Look,” he started softly, “I don't know what you're going through or what kind of self-doubts are going through your head right now. But I think you're pretty cool.” “Thank you.” Pay’s voice was a little rough, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. He didn't look up. “But one opinion isn't going to change the world’s.” Tim thought over this. “Maybe not the world’s. But maybe it could change someone’s world’s.” Pay bit his lip. He hated this. He hated being this weak and vulnerable and having to have someone comfort him. He had to get out of here; he had to run from his weakness like always. He stood to go. Tim looked up at him, alarmed. “I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?” Pay laughed without humor. “No, you're fine, darling. I just gotta go. Can't keep the brother waiting too long.” Tim stood as well. “Wait. Let me… let me get you a drink at least. That's what you came down here for, right? To talk about alcohol? It'd be a waste of time if you didn't at least sample some of my family’s best.” Pay paused thoughtfully. Tim had a point. Plus, Pay would never admit it, but he didn't really want to leave Tim. He charted it up to his conscience making a sudden appearance and guilting him into not leaving the poor guy alone in a basement. He nodded to Tim’s request after a moment. Tim smiled and moved to behind the bar, gesturing for Pay to take a seat at one of the bar stools. Pay complied and watched as Tim pulled down some shot glasses. “What's tickling your fancy tonight, darling?” Pay raised an eyebrow at Tim’s not-so-subtle mocking of his earlier nickname. “I'll have a shot of Jack Daniels, handsome.” “Coming right up, beautiful.” Tim went over to the “Great Wall of Alcohol,” as Pay had deemed it, and searched through it. He came back with a bottle and tipped its contents into a shot glass, looking surprisingly at ease as an impromptu bartender. “There you go, princess.” “Much obliged, charming.” Pay downed the shot in a second, making a contented noise at the taste and the slight alcohol buzz he was already starting to feel. “So how's the taste, Cinderella?” Tim asked, pouring another shot. “Wonderful.” Pay downed this one as well. “And I think I'm more of a Sleeping Beauty.” Tim poured a third shot then raised his hands defensively. “Well, excuse me then,” he said in an exaggerated tone. Pay tipped back the third shot. “Simple mistake.” Tim put the bottle and shot glasses away, saying, “Don’t want to get you too drunk. I'm sure your… uh, brother wouldn't be too happy.” Pay was a bit disappointed that he wouldn't be able to completely drink away his problems tonight, but the part of his brain that was still thinking logically agreed with Tim. And maybe… maybe he wouldn't want to forget tonight. So he nodded and stood. “Thank you for the drinks. And… for your words.” Tim nodded acceptance, and Pay made his way to the stairway before pausing at the first step. “Don't you wanna come up and join the party? I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind at this point.” Tim hesitated. He wasn't much for parties and kinda wanted to stay down here where it was quiet and alone for the rest of the night. But one look at Pay’s kind and understanding face had him making his way to the stairs almost subconsciously. “Sure. Sounds like fun.” He flicked off the lightswitch to the basement, and they were plunged into darkness. Tim could barely see Pay’s eyes in the dark. But he could feel Pay’s hand as Pay grabbed onto his own. He squeezed Pay’s hand comfortingly, and Pay squeezed back. He set his jaw determinedly. They made their way upstairs. ~~~ “Is that… Pay? With… Tim?” Tord had sat down on one of the many gold bar stools and had immediately spotted the couple having the time of their lives in the middle of the dance floor. “Yup,” Tom and Patryk, who were sitting on either side of him, said simultaneously. Tord glanced at each other them, a bit incredulous by their calmness during the situation at hand. “And you two are… okay with this?” Both looked thoughtful for a moment before once again replying “Yup” at the same time. Tord sat back in his bar stool, baffled. He thought about saying something, but there was really nothing to say to this. So he watched the two on the dance floor and sat with their respective brothers. He noticed that one from each pair looked slightly tipsy, but he didn't comment on it.