#i think a lot of this comes down to what happened with my ex lmao

[lavenderyoonji]

pretend this isn’t me you’ve never seen me i don’t exist

[sundrop-writes]

Why Am I The One?

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader

I’ll hold you like I used to - you know that I am home.

So darling if you love me... would you let me know? 

Or go on, go on, go on - if you were thinking that the worst is yet to come.

Why am I the one always packing up my stuff?

For once, for once, for once, I get the feeling that I’m right where I belong. 

Why Am I The One always packing up my stuff? 

Summary:

Isaac loves you. He loves you more than anything else in the world - which is exactly why he has stayed away from you for so long.

But when Derek kicks him out onto the street in the pouring rain with absolutely no warning and no reasoning as to why, Isaac has nowhere else to go. He could claim that he sought you out because you're close by, because he knows that you won't turn him away in his time of need - but deep down, it's because he misses you. And staying away from you for so long is the hardest, stupidest thing he has ever done.

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 4.

Word Count: 15,200

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic is equal parts smut and emotional angst/plot; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; this fic DOES use Y/N; there is no description of the reader's race but the reader is implied to be plus-sized (I can't help myself lmao); the reader is completely human (doesn't have any supernatural powers); this is based on the part in 3x04 where Derek kicks Issac out of the apartment (without telling him that it's to protect him) and leaves Isaac with no place to go - and in this version, instead of going to Scott, he goes to the reader's place (and in this case, she is his ex-girlfriend); mentions of the reader's mother being killed by 'a monster' (Peter Hale in his Alpha form); mentions of the abuse Isaac experienced from his father (non-detailed); Isaac being emotionally constipated/being unwilling to accept help/love/affection as a trauma response because of the abuse he experienced; Isaac emotionally bashing himself due to his trauma; cheating - Isaac 'cheated' on the reader with Erica and there is a depiction of that (them kissing, and later in the fic it mentions and glosses over some of their sexual experiences together) (Erica x Isaac is very much a background element); light Erica bashing from the reader - but a lot of this is written from Isaac's perspective, who is favourable to Erica, so I think it balances out (and I didn't want the narrative to pit the girls against each other because I hate that); Isaac verbally insults the reader during an argument and shoves her (not hard enough to harm or injure her, just to get her out of his personal space); Isaac wears the reader's clothes - so this implies that she is a size where she can comfortably share her pajamas and loungewear with him (I didn't mention if those clothes would be too big on him, just that he does fit into them); some Derek bashing - just because of the optics of what happened to Isaac and the reader not knowing Derek or his motives; mentions of Erica's canon death; for the smut - this is not the first time Isaac and the reader have had sex with each other (this is reunion sex for them); Isaac is more dominant and the reader is more submissive; there is lots of verbal praise (from Isaac toward the reader); slight mentions of the reader feeling insecure about her weight (but this is chased away by Isaac's verbal praise and it's not a prominent theme); protected sex (for once in one of my fics) - they use a condom; penis in vagina sex; slightly dubious consent - the reader is reminded of Isaac's cheating during sex and moves to end it, and Isaac continues (but it's very messy and emotional and the physical pleasure makes the reader want to continue and drowns out any doubts) (it is a very 'humans are not perfect, we are messy creatures' situation); lots of dirty talk - Isaac doesn't miss the opportunity to wind reader up with his dirty mouth; the reader slaps Isaac while they are having sex - not as a kink, but because she is upset at him; the sex goes from very rough to sweet love making (once they 'make up' with each other); orgasm denial (once - toward the reader); Isaac uses his strength to pin the reader down and to hold her arms down (not really strength kink, and I don't know if I would consider it bondage? idk); I think that is all.

A/N: We all know I'm in love with Isaac. His wooby pull attracted me like earth's gravitational pull, and Derek kicking him out into the rain so suddenly is literally the perfect recipe for a fic - the sadness, the emotions, and Isaac wearing a soaking wet white shirt like a whore. How could I not write a fic about this moment? Also, you guys know that I have been vibing with Exes to Lovers a lot lately - I just fucking love the concept of 'right person, wrong time' - it eats so hard. So this fic was a no brainer to me. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This fic is named after a song by Fun of the same name, and I actually found out that the song was written about the singer's experiences in foster care - having to constantly move from place to place and and feeling like he never had a true sense of 'home' because of it. And I love how well it suits Isaac's experiences - the fact that just when he started to establish a new sense of 'home' and family with Boyd and Erica, they were torn away from him. So I really wanted to use it for this fic.

...

It was a lonely night. 

But unfortunately, you had been experiencing a lot of those lately. 

Since the start of the school year, most of your ‘friends’ had been ghosting you. And that was putting it kindly. It seemed like everyone else was in some group, in on something else, always busy with something more important and not telling you why. 

You couldn’t think of anything you had said or done to offend them. And you knew that sometimes, people did just get busy, or drift apart. But you got the distinct vibe that they had been avoiding you intentionally for one reason or another - and you hated not knowing why. 

Sure, life had been weird for you since some giant prowling beast had murdered your mother, leaving your entire life in limbo. Since you had been locked in the school at night and discovered that one of your best friends from childhood, Scott, had the ability to turn into a fucking werewolf. But you were a bit more at ease when he used that ability to save your life from said giant prowling beast. 

You knew Scott would never hurt you. Which was why, only a few short weeks later, you used the much more human ability of an improvised hairspray flamethrower to save his life in return. 

But after you had witnessed that terrifying, burly beast lit on fire, forcing it to turn human - and then have its throat slashed by someone you later came to know as Derek Hale, Scott assured you that everything was ‘over’. Strangely enough, you trusted his words. And you actually expected your life to go back to some sense of normalcy after that night. 

Scott told you that he had mastered the ability to control himself on a full moon, and though there were others in town like him (no matter how much you nagged him, he wouldn’t tell you who), you didn’t have to worry about anyone else in your family being attacked. Not as long as he was around, he had assured you. 

Well, you didn’t have to worry about losing the little family that you had left.

With your mother gone and your father never in your life in the first place, you now lived with your sister in a small apartment downtown. She was attending the local college and working part time as a bartender and you were trying to finish up your education at Beacon Hills, despite the growing body count - which Scott still refused to tell you about. Claimed he didn’t know anything about, but you could sense the lies coming off him because you had known him for so long. 

You had a nagging feeling that him and Stiles knew far more about the recent wave of murders than they were letting on. And it had a whole lot to do with the reason why they were dodging all of your calls, texts, and any efforts that you made to hang out with them. Even Allison and Lydia weren’t returning your messages, and it was downright bothering you. 

So you were spending another Friday night at home by yourself while your sister went out on a date, as lonely as you had ever been and unable to do anything about it. But still, you were trying your hardest to make the best of it - getting ready to curl up on the couch to watch Netflix in your pajamas. All your homework was done purely out of boredom, and you had a pile of junk food ready to go, a few horror movies queued up when-

A knock on the door. Of course. 

It was either the creepy guy from down the hall who had ‘forgotten’ his key again, or your sister, who had forgotten one of several potential things. 

You put your bowl of chips aside, paused on the intro screen of the movie and heaved a sigh as you shrugged off your cozy throw blanket and shoved on your slippers to cross the cold floor toward the door. 

“Let me guess, you forgot your phone again?” You stated this loud enough for your sister to hear you through the door as you unhooked the safety chain and opened it, expecting her to come barreling in complaining about her poor memory. 

You found yourself entirely shaken with shock to discover that it wasn’t at all who you were expecting. 

“Isaac.” You breathed out the name in a gentle gasp, entirely in disbelief of him standing there. 

He was soaking wet from the rain, his white tee shirt sticking to his body in a way that shouldn’t have been as sinful and eye-catching as it was - his back slouched and his eyes low to the ground, indicating how truly shameful he was to be here at your doorstep, needing your help. He was shivering slightly all over, potent enough to be seen, clearly freezing from the cold water that had penetrated through his clothes and soaked him to the bone. 

He had walked through the pouring rain to get here - without a coat. 

And he was carrying a large duffle bag? 

Come to think of it, you had no clue where he had been staying since his father had died. But he had turned eighteen shortly before it happened (which was why they had been intent to charge him with murder when they thought he was responsible) - so he wouldn’t be a ward of the state just because he was an orphan. He had to be responsible for himself. Even if he wasn’t ready for that responsibility. 

He had been so damn intent on dodging your calls and ignoring you in person, so it’s not like he was letting you offer your help anyway. A large part of the reason that you were so surprised to see him here now. 

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but to ask, hating the bitterness that popped up in your voice, entirely against your will. 

You weren’t even sure if you were happy to see him. Not with the way things ended between the two of you. With the fact that he hadn’t even made an effort to apologize. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but you were the only person I could think of-” His voice was curdled and pathetic, edging on tears and shaking from how cold he was. 

“Of course.” You scoffed, a nearly automated response filled with resentment tapering over from months ago. 

You hated that he came to you in a time of crisis, something so natural to him, just like he used to. But he couldn’t lean on you in comfort, he couldn’t take the good with the bad. Isaac could never tolerate goodness - that was something you had learned quickly with him. 

But you knew that had to come with the territory - loving someone so broken and slipping on their sharp edges. You were bound to cut yourself every now and again. Isaac left you with more cuts than you could count, and you kept on coming back for more - because you loved him more than his bitterness. You loved him more than his thorns, more than the fight he put up when you tried to love him. 

Isaac frowned and shook his head, turning to leave again, and your chest seized up with fear and pain. Instinctively, you reached out for him, just like you had so many times before, and you caught him by one of his wrists, digging your fingers in. His skin was freezing and it made you realize even more that he needed you. It was cold outside and he needed you for warmth, for shelter, and so much more that he couldn’t even begin to ask for. 

“Isaac-” You choked out. 

The touch caused him to look up into your eyes, and it was a deadly attack of icy blue through wet lashes - wet from the rain or from his tears, you couldn’t be sure. He looked every bit a kicked puppy, and you knew that you couldn’t turn him away. You couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“I’m sorry.” You pressed, trying to make sure that he truly heard it and knew that you meant it. “Please don’t go. You should come in - you need to get warmed up. Isaac, please don’t think that I don’t care about you anymore. Please don’t think that I would turn you away,” 

That was how things always went with him. You begging him to take the most basic of care and kindness, you begging him to open up and receive everything you had to offer him. You begging him to let himself be loved. 

‘A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.’ 

It was something you had read once and could never get it out of your head every single time Isaac did this - every single time he ran from you trying to be kind to him. His father had ruined him in so many deeper ways than the marks left on his skin. 

“You shouldn’t.” He said - responding to your words carefully, quietly. 

But ultimately, he flexed to your touch and stepped inside, letting you close the door behind him, now dripping onto the welcome mat. He placed his bag down by his feet as you puzzled at his words. The confused look on your face caused him to further explain. 

“You shouldn’t care about me anymore.” 

You let out a sigh, retreating to the couch to grab the blanket you had just been covered up in. With your back turned to him, you used this as a quiet moment to squeak out a vulnerability, simply because you didn’t have to see his face when you said it. 

“Look, Isaac, despite what happened - I still do.” 

You whispered, unsure if he would hear you. You had no idea that with his enhanced werewolf hearing, he heard every single word crystal clear, including the overly emotional crack in your voice. 

“No matter what happens… I don’t think that I’ll ever stop caring about you.” 

Isaac held his breath at this. 

Dammit. 

… 

You and Isaac had dated for two years before it all happened. 

Two years ignorant ‘bliss’ before a giant monster - well, two different giant monsters actually - came barreling through town and supremely fucked up both of your lives. The one that killed your mother and the one that killed his father. 

Before that, the two of you were happy together. Isaac’s life with his father was not exactly blissful. Far from it. But he escaped from the horrors of it when he was with you. He was planning a life after graduation when he could get away with you, be free of his father, and the two of you could live a happy, normal life together. 

You were the love of Isaac’s life. He never loved anyone else like he loved you. 

He would deny it - but there was no past tense on that. You are overwhelming still the love of Isaac’s life. The two of you had your first kiss together, you lost your virginities to each other, you were the first person that he ever said the big L to. You made him so impossibly happy. 

You were the only person in the world who had helped him start on the impossible journey of healing from even a small portion of what his father had put him through. In a lifetime when he had felt abandoned, unloved, useless, abused - you made him feel loved. You made him feel like he was worth something as long as he was loving you. 

When Derek Hale promised him a solution to all of his problems, Isaac didn’t believe it. Derek promised him freedom, power, family - things he never even dreamed of having. The only problem? In this new family, he couldn’t have you. Having all of this new power would put you at risk. There were new dangers - hunters, people who would try to hurt you. With this new power, Isaac might even hurt you himself, even if unintentionally. 

Isaac wasn’t entirely sure why he agreed to it. Maybe because Derek made it sound so appealing. Maybe because he thought it was inevitable, just a matter of time before you found out that he was a poison seed and you stopped loving him, and he thought that he needed a backup plan for when that happened. Isaac thought he needed to stand on his own two legs without you. He didn’t need something as fading and immeasurable as love - he needed power. And Derek could give that to him. 

So he accepted Derek’s Bite - and he transcended into something bigger, badder, and better. Something that would never be loved by you again. 

The only problem was: you didn’t know that yet. 

His father was dead, he had found a new pack - there was just one last severance from his old life that needed to be made. So he did it as cleanly as he could. 

He broke your heart because it was something that needed to be done. 

… 

‘Meet me in the boys locker room at 4:45.’ 

It was a note in Issac’s handwriting - it had been slipped into your locker, clearly meant for some late afternoon rendezvous. At the very least, you were filled with joy at the prospect of getting to talk to your boyfriend alone. 

He had been acting so strange lately. Which was more than understandable, considering that his father had been murdered and he had been arrested for it. You hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him since you had exonerated him with your sworn testimony that he had been at your place on the night of the murder. (And of course, the cops hadn’t believed you until you had tracked down the take-out delivery guy who had also sworn that he had seen Isaac in your apartment when dropping off food that night.) 

You hadn’t gotten to spend any quality time with Isaac since then, so this felt like a breath of fresh air. You knew that lacrosse practice ended at 3:30, so the locker room would be empty - you wondered if Isaac just wanted to talk, wanted to walk you home, or something else entirely… 

Your stomach was bubbling with butterflies as you held the note in your hands and you rounded the corner into the locker room, excited to greet Isaac with a hug and feel his arms around you for the first time in far too long. 

You were surprised when you heard the sound of kissing. 

You wondered if you had walked in on someone else’s afternoon rendezvous by mistake - if the locker room was otherwise occupied and Isaac knew it too. Perhaps he had sent you a text to meet him somewhere else. Before you could pull out your phone to check, your eyes glanced up through the metal mesh and of the cubbies, and you caught a glimpse of absolutely unmistakable pale skin and dirty blond hair. 

A rough, muscled back with bright red scratch marks marring his skin. 

“Isaac?!” You gasped, utterly shocked. 

You charged further into the room, no longer caring if you were intruding on someone’s privacy - you needed to know. If this was just a terrible case of mistaken identity, then you would be embarrassed and profusely apologize. 

Your heart dropped, becoming a cold rock in your stomach when surely enough, it was your boyfriend standing there - shirtless, his pants undone, his face and chest smudged with red lipstick while Erica Reyes was pinned up against one of the lockers. She was smugly grinning at you, wearing nothing but jeans and a bra, her hair a complete mess. 

“Barge in, much?” Erica said, sounding more like a gloat than an accusation of your rudeness. 

You didn’t have the energy to pay her any mind. 

“Isaac, what the hell?” You screamed at him, sounding too pathetic to be angry, your voice already gripped by tears. 

“Can you give us a minute?” He said this to Erica, seeming far too casual. She simply shrugged, picking up her discarded shirt, jacket, and heels before she turned to leave. 

You clenched a shaking fist and simply gave her a glare. You knew that she had been on some kind of chaos streak lately, and Allison had mentioned that she had threatened to ‘steal’ Scott - something that more than left a sour taste in your mouth about a girl that you previously had a better opinion of. You didn’t think that she was cruel enough to actually go through with something like this. You used to think of her as a nice girl. 

But the bulk of your anger was most definitely directed at your piece of shit, cheating boyfriend. 

Isaac wiped the edge of his mouth with the back of his hand, not even getting off a small portion of the lipstick that was wildly smeared around his face. Then he moved to zip up his pants. You continued to gape at him in shock, a harsh, deep pain blooming in your chest as you waited for him to say something. 

“Isaac, tell me this is a joke-” You choked out, looking for some anchor to hold onto, some explanation. 

“A joke?” Isaac smiled, all teeth, the expression in his eyes downright dead. You found him impossible to read in those moments. “Y/N, the only joke here has been our relationship.” 

“You - you gave me a note.” You said, holding up the small slip of paper - the one that previously had you so giddy with joy at the prospect of spending time with him. “You told me to meet you here, I thought-” 

‘I thought you wanted to spend time with me. I thought you loved me.’ 

The words died off in your throat, clenching in on itself as the harsh waves of truth overtook you. 

If he wanted to break up with you, making out with Erica in front of you, putting on some show - it was one nasty way to do it. 

“Did I?” He asked, his tone sounding utterly sarcastic and mean, faking dumb in the absolutely worst way as he snatched the paper from you and pretended to look it over. “I guess I must have forgotten.” He shrugged. “When Erica came in here looking for me, I forgot all about you. Having her mouth all over me-” 

“Stop it.” You barked, cutting him off. 

Why was he being so cruel? Was he trying to make you angry on purpose? Why was he lying about forgetting that he had invited you here? 

Obviously he wanted you to see him kissing Erica - why was he lying about it now? 

“Why are you doing this?” You demanded, tears freely flowing down your face. 

Isaac’s eyes drifted to your cheeks, his wicked smirk flexing into a frown of his own - only for a second, a deep sadness penetrating through the mask he had carefully crafted. What the hell did he have to be upset about? He crossed his arms over his still shirtless chest, glaring at you. 

“Why is it so hard for you to understand?” He said, fighting to keep his voice firm. “I’m done with you. We’re over. Okay? I-” 

“If you wanted to break up with me, you could have just done it.” You told him, sadness gripping at your throat. “Why the hell are you being so mean? Do you want me to hate you or something?” 

‘Yes.’ A voice chanted in his mind. ‘Yes - fucking hate me. Stay the hell away from me. Keep yourself safe.’ 

He shrugged, his eyes avoiding you suddenly. 

When he went for too long without speaking, an obvious question popped up in your mind. 

“How - how long has this been going on for?” You asked. 

You wondered if that was why he had been acting so strange lately - dodging your calls, avoiding any attempt you made to see him. Had he been spending that time with Erica instead? 

“What? Me and Erica?” He posed, gesturing vaguely toward the door where she had disappeared. 

He grinned. You had unintentionally given him the perfect wedge - the final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Something that would make sure you steered clear of him for a long time, something that would make sure you made absolutely no attempt to be ‘amicable’ or be friends with him after this break-up. 

“A few weeks.” He shrugged. “Around the time I started getting bored with you.” 

You let out a sob. 

“You’re lying.” You wept. You wanted it to be a lie, but in those moments - you couldn’t have picked out the truth if someone smacked you with it. 

“Did you ever consider that I never loved you in the first place?” Isaac posed, sounding oddly menacing and steady in his declaration. “That you were just a placeholder for me until I found something better?” 

“No, that’s not true.” You cried, your voice becoming more wet with tears by the second. “Isaac, why are you lying? Is something wrong? Please-” 

“You’re what’s wrong!” He argued, raising his tone, hoping to piss you off, make you flee. “You’re just a… a dumb girl, okay? You’re not the only one who wants me, there are dozens more like you! I don’t need you now, and I never did.” 

You were used to pushing back with him. Pushing to get what you wanted. With the intense emotional chaos, you weren’t sure what else to do. 

“Please, just tell me-” 

You kept pushing, trying to get close to him - the moment your soothing hands crept into his space, he panicked and shoved you back, nearly knocking you clean off your feet with a strength he hadn’t yet learned how to control. The rush of terror and shock on your face was all he needed to remember why he was doing this - why it was important. 

“We’re done here.” He told you, entirely cold. “I never loved you, I just used you, and-” He hesitated before he said the next part, hating that it had to be done. “I hope you find someone who deserves an ugly whore like you.” 

It didn’t feel like the truth - but it still cut you like a knife. 

It made you more determined to figure out why he was lying. But in those moments, you had absolutely no fight left in you. You couldn’t stand there and pry, and pry, and pry in order to figure it out. So, against your better judgment, with nothing else left to do - he got his wish. 

You fled, tears ripe in your eyes. 

And from there on out, any attempts you made to talk to Scott, Stiles, or Lydia about the incident were successfully dodged, and when Allison’s mother died, you didn’t feel right putting the weight of your shitty break-up on top of her problems. So eventually - you just gave up on finding out about the truth. And you settled on trying to become friends with Issac - which he also dodged. 

And ultimately - you found yourself so achingly alone. 

… 

Eventually, you had let it go. 

You chalked everything - all of Isaac’s weird behavior, his avoidance of you - up to the fact that he had been cheating on you. You hated that your first love had done something like that to you. It was only made worse by the fact that you didn’t have any of your friends to lean on after you found out about it, but you moved on. You ended up throwing yourself into your school work to try and distract yourself from all the intense emotions, so now your grades were soaring and you were an A student, so at least one good thing came out of the mess. 

You tried not to focus on the bad memories now that Isaac was in front of you, clearly wounded and fleeing from something. Even if it was just as a friend, he needed your help now. You were still a human being, and you couldn’t deny him of that. He didn’t have any other family - he didn’t have anywhere else to go. So you grabbed the blanket - a large, fuzzy one that you had been using, and brought it across the room toward him. 

Then, as you took in the sight of his soaking wet clothes once again, his slightly purpling lips and the way he was shivering from the cold, you realized something. 

“Take your clothes off.” You told him. 

“What?” He gaped at you, clearly shocked by this demand. 

“Come on, clothes off.” You repeated your words. “You’re never gonna get warm if you’re wearing soaking wet, freezing clothes.” He hesitated still, and you added on. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.” 

It was true. Not only did the two of you lose your virginities to each other, but the two of you had a very active sex life during your two year long relationship. (It was one of the reasons why his cheating shocked you most. You thought that you had been more than enough for him.) You had to remind yourself not to think about that. You wouldn’t let yourself get angry at him. Not now. You had to be mature. 

Isaac nodded, and then kicked off his shoes, which were wet enough for the soles to loudly squish. You weren’t sure if you should advert your eyes as he peeled off his white shirt, the wet fabric sticking to his skin in a way that seemed far too sexual for the moment. It felt too intimate, letting yourself stare at his soft glistening skin, but you almost couldn’t look away. 

Sure, you had seen Isaac naked plenty of times before - but this Isaac felt entirely different than the one you were used to. He used to be more scrawny. He used to be much more on the leaner side, and now he was muscled, thick, glorious. You had no clue that taking up some god-like workout plan had been one of the things he’d done during the time since his father’s death, but fuck - he looked gorgeous. 

You scorned yourself for staring while he worked open his pants, his fingers still shaking from the cold, driving home his vulnerability all the more, driving a tinge of shame into you. And oh god, the fabric of his gray boxers were wet, sticking to the distinct outline of his thick soft cock- 

By the time he got his pants off and around his ankles, you didn’t wait to see if he would shed the underwear before you moved towards him, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, partially for modesty and partially to start warming him up. 

“Better?” You asked, rubbing his shoulders through the fabric instinctively, hoping to get some blood circulating through his extremities. 

“Yeah, better.” He easily agreed, his voice coming out less shaky, his lips shivering less now. “Thank you, Y/N. Genuinely. You didn’t have to do any of this for me. I know you don’t owe me anything after-” 

He abruptly cut himself off, unable to make himself say the words, and you hated the clench in your chest as you thought about it. He was right, you didn’t owe him anything. Anybody else would have slammed the door in his face. Anybody else would have laughed at his misfortune. So why the hell were you doing this? 

You still loved him. 

That became all the more apparent to you as you stood there, close to him, holding the broadness of his shoulders under your hands, remembering what it was like to hug him, to be held by him, to kiss him every single day. Staring at his angelic face, having those sweet blue eyes gaze back at you, something in them still so sweet and affectionate towards you. 

He still looked at you the way he used to. Maybe you were delusional. But you thought it was still there. The love he claimed he never had for you, still lingering there. 

It grappled at something deep in your chest and pulled, tempting you to lean in and sink home, pressing yourself against his lips. 

But no - you couldn’t. 

You had to shake yourself back to reality. You had to remind yourself what he had done. He had hurt you, badly. You couldn’t let yourself be pulled in again by a stupid pretty face. 

“I should put your clothes in the dryer.” You said suddenly, breaking a tense silence that had otherwise only been filled by the sound of rain pouring down outside. 

That’s what you needed to do - go to the laundry room downstairs, get far away from him. You needed more than a few minutes to distance yourself and clear your head. 

You rushed to get away from him, leaning down and picking up his soaking wet clothes, the fabric chilly against your hands. 

“Don’t.” Isaac croaked out, barely above a whisper, surprising you entirely. 

You both knew that he wasn’t protesting having dry clothes - he was stopping you from leaving. He was trying to chase the tension that you were desperate to get away from. 

You felt betrayed. 

In your mind, you were the only one truly at risk of getting hurt by this. You had no idea how deeply he had missed you over the months, how many times he had resisted the urge to rush back into your arms. How many nights he spent plagued by nightmares with horrid visions of your dead body - how real it all was to him. 

“Isaac-” You tried to form a protest, but then you saw a flourish of movement out of the corner of your eye, and a flash of pale skin. 

It was enough to shock you and catch your attention, and your head whipped around to see that Isaac had dropped the blanket entirely, letting it pool around his ankles. Clearly, he knew that you had been admiring his body before and he was trying to use that to his advantage now. He knew that he was a smooth, beautiful, muscled, Adonis-like figure and he was trying to lure you in with that visual appeal. 

You were determined not to let it work. 

“Isaac, you must be freezing, you-” 

You were going to continue on - going to tell him about how he needed dry clothes and how you should attend to getting that done, and how he should put the blanket on and cover up while you were gone. But he cut off your words when he crossed the room toward you, gently cupping both sides of your face with his freezing hands. 

It was an icy shock that caused you to drop his wet clothes onto the floor once again. You reached up in an attempt to tear his touch away, but instinct took over - the second your hands were on top of his, your body flexed with gentleness. You found yourself leaning in, covering his hands with your own, unconsciously trying to warm him yet again. 

Caring for him was a muscle that had been well formed in your body, exercised often. It was difficult to ignore now. 

“Then warm me up.” He choked out, tears dancing in his eyes as he stared at you so steadily, unwavering. “Warm me up, please.” 

He begged you, clearly seeking more than a blanket, more than dry clothes, more than a warm bed. He was seeking the warmth that you had thrust onto him so many times that he had fought off before - your kindness. Your love. The thing rattling around inside of you that you shouldn’t even feel for him anymore. 

“Please,” He choked out. “I haven’t felt warm in so long.” 

The desperation curling in his voice was truly what got you - the gloss of sadness in his eyes, the way he looked so kicked and alone. It was something you had seen from him dozens of times before, when he had knocked on your bedroom window at three in the morning after having a bad night with his father - bruised, broken, looking for comfort that you would have to fight with him to accept. 

Everything else flew out of your mind then. It was an instinct - to hold him. It was an instinct to grab him up in your arms and make a home for him there. Your heart so easily forgot about all the pain he had made for you, because you were so used to pushing pain aside for him in the name of comfort. 

“Isaac,” You said his name gently again, this time reaching up and letting yourself give into the pull - your mouth drifting toward his and finally sealing into that deadly kiss. 

You couldn’t contain the moan that spilled out of you the second that you felt the smoothness of his lips against yours for the first time in so long. You hated how he still felt so good - how he still felt like home. 

His arms rushed to wrap around your torso in the most utterly possessive way - not just a hug, not just seeking comfort, affection, or warmth - but holding you in a way that said he had truly missed you. Holding you as tightly as he could, pressing your whole body against his, encasing himself around you as though trying to protect you from the world with his flesh alone. Your hands went to his hair, rabid and frantic as you tightly gripped onto the curly locks - holding him in place as you melted your mouth against his, your kisses quickly turning from smooth and sweet to downright frantic. 

You never thought that you would have this back again, that you would have him back, and you couldn’t help but to enjoy it now. The press of his body against yours, so thick and muscled now, quickly warming up, so different but still so Isaac. The gentle whimpers he released into your mouth, something so familiar - his sweetness coming through, as much as you tried to deny it. Within moments, it unlocked an intense need within you. It made you realize how terribly long it had been since the last time you had cum. 

If he was determined for you to make him warm, then you would get something out of it too. If you were going to make a stupid mistake, then you were going to make it right. (Or make it terribly wrong - you weren’t sure which it was yet.) 

You pulled away from his lips and he let out a disappointed whine, and while you panted, out of breath against his chin, you began pushing him, shuffling back toward your bedroom, hoping he would get the hint and understand. Which he didn’t, his whole body numb and dumb with lust, still tightly holding onto you, almost fighting against your movements. 

“Bed.” You huffed at him. “Bed, Isaac, go-” 

He let out a grunt of understanding, but then he moved a hand to the back of your head, pulling you into another kiss. You dug your nails into his shoulders, about to push him away, but you unconsciously melted into the movement, letting out another moan. Between the two of you, the path to your bedroom was stumbling and messy, and took far longer than it needed to be - heated mouths tonguing against each other, neither of you actually looking as you got lost in the kisses, frantically pawing at each other. 

When his hand found the hem of your cotton sleep shirt, part of you blinked in protest, slightly hesitant. But still, you found yourself pulling away from his lips for a single moment and then the item was gone, shed and ditched on the floor. This revealed you completely to him, braless. 

Of course, he had seen you naked before too. Plenty of times. But still, you felt a stitch of regret that you hadn’t used the time since the break-up to get some kind of ‘revenge body’. You hadn’t been religiously hitting the gym as apparently he had been. Instead, you had been obsessively hitting the books and spending nights alone with junk food, and-

“God, you are so much more beautiful than I remembered.” He breathed out, the words so utterly passionate and sacred on his lips. 

Your stomach clenched at this. You felt yourself being involuntarily swallowed up by your affection for him again. Drowning in a love for him that you had long since locked away deep somewhere, trying to smother it out until it died. Apparently you had been unsuccessful in that. 

Isaac only made it worse when he dove in for another kiss, smothering your lips with heat again as he ran his hands, now much warmer, over your body - up your stomach, gently tracing the stretch marks there as though he appreciated each one. His hands coming to cup your breasts and oh-so-lightly flicking at your nipples, teasing them as he tongued along your teeth. 

You could barely handle it - the gentle treatment, the way it made your pussy flutter and leak wetness into your panties. You knew all too soon, you would be entirely weak to him. If you weren’t careful, you would let him do anything he wanted to you. 

You continued to back him up, your hand going to the doorknob of your bedroom and finally, successfully pushing him inside. You pushed him back until his knees met the bed and then you brought two hands to his chest, shoving him out of the kiss and tossing him back onto the bed - this caused him to make a startled noise as he fell back onto your neatly made covers and collection of fluffy pillows. 

And then, he looked up at you with an utterly cocky smirk - strangely, one that only made you want to fuck him even more. 

“Come on, c’mere-” He encouraged you, full of breath, holding out his hands to you. 

You felt a rush of lust-fueled bravery and you tucked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and underwear all at once, shoving them down over your hips, pushing out any last bits of insecurity that you felt. 

You waited for Isaac to follow your lead and strip out of his last remaining bit of clothing. Instead, he sat there, sprawled out on the bed, leaning on his elbows, looking at you in the low lighting (the streetlamps coming in through the window with the sound of rain still pouring, pounding against the glass) - his jaw dropped and his eyes wide, looking at you with a unique kind of awe that you hadn’t seen on his face before. Not even the first time he had seen you naked and he had given you that ‘teenage boy seeing tits for the first time’ look. 

It was like he was well and truly seeing you for the first time - like the distance had made him appreciate you so much more. It made you feel so much more naked, and gave you the urge to cover yourself. 

Just as you were about to, he spoke again. 

“You are so utterly gorgeous.” He told you, his voice full of that epic passion that made your insides quake. “So fucking perfect. Fuck.” 

“Isaac-” You squeaked out his name, entirely unsure of what else to say. 

He pushed himself up, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you forward until you stumbled and tripped, landing on the bed between his thighs. You let out a breathy gasp as he began kissing down your neck - smoothly, softly, seemingly intent to appreciate you now that he had you here. It brought more of those dangerously warm feelings washing up - it made you feel soft and sappy inside, made you miss the days when you called Isaac your boyfriend. Days when the two of you used to lay on the couch together and cuddle, when you held hands in the hallways, when you would tell each other everything. 

It was a dangerous feeling to have now. 

One of his hands pulled on your thigh and you understood his unconscious wish - moving your legs to straddle around his waist as he began sucking a spot on the base of your neck, a tender bit of skin he knew was a weakness he could exploit. This sent warm waves of pleasure through you while he squeezed both hands across your ass, bringing you to sit down fully on his still clothed crotch. It sent a shockwave through you - feeling his hard, clothed cock pressing right up against your hot, naked pussy - it made you intensely needy, caused you to unconsciously grind down on him and let out a high, needy moan. 

“Isaac, please,” 

You knew that you were hovering in a dangerous place. All of this was settling you back into familiarity - if you weren’t careful, you would set yourself up for hurt all over again. You were letting him pry you open, inviting him to tear through your heart all over again, and then - what would be left for you? 

No - you needed mindless sex. You needed to fuck him, for closure. And then you needed to put him out of your life completely. 

You leaned over to the nightstand, unlatching him from your neck in the process. You tried your hardest to ignore the sweet kisses he peppered along your shoulder as you dug through the drawer for a condom, checking to make sure it wasn’t expired (because woefully, he had been the last person you had used this pack with) before you came back with it in hand. 

When Isaac saw you bring it to your teeth with the clear intentions of ripping it open, it began to protest. 

“Woah, Y/N, wait-” He rushed out the words, and you glared at him. 

“‘Wait’, what? I thought this is what you wanted.” 

The words came off your tongue much crueler than you intended - a result of you being harshly at odds with yourself. You were trying desperately not to stumble back into being that foolish girl who loved him too much. Trying to get over your feelings for him, to prove to yourself that you could be as emotionally detached as he was on that day. 

He swallowed thickly, looking at you with those godforsaken puppy eyes. Those eyes that had drawn you in so many times before. 

“I just-” 

‘I wanted to kiss over every inch of your body. I wanted it to be slow. I wanted to make love to you. I wanted to prove to you how much I missed you, how huge of a mistake I made.’ 

“Nothing.” Isaac choked out - and then, surprisingly, he snatched the condom from you. 

In one smooth move, he captured your mouth with his again, wrapping his arms around your back and flipping you so that you were underneath him. It was a strong, powerful move that had you whimpering into his mouth, feeling utterly pathetic in his shadow as your cunt leaked more needy wetness against his boxers. You hated that you unconsciously leaned into his touches, desperate for more. 

When he pulled away from the kiss, you looked on breathlessly as he shoved down his underwear and kicked them off, causing his impressive cock to spring free and smack against his stomach. Something you stared at like a beacon, your pussy clenching hungrily around nothing while he tore open the condom and rolled it on. 

He then took the base of his cock in hand, putting the other hand on the bed beside you to prop himself up while he teased the tip of his cock along your folds, parting your pussy as he teased inside - lightly bumping your clit in a way that drove you insane. 

“Ready?” He asked, his voice breathy and full of need, something you had so dearly missed hearing from him. 

“Hurry up,” You egged him on, partly due to impatience from the teasing, wound up by the nagging feeling of the thick cockhead prodding against your throbbing cunt - and partly because you were eager to get this over with. You were eager to prove to yourself that you could do this and feel nothing inside. That ultimately, you were over him. 

He grinned, all teeth, almost evil, and he let out a sharp breath. Then, finally, pushed forward, shoving his cock inside of you all at once - one smooth push that had his hips shoving right up against yours, his coarse pubic hairs brushing against the sensitive, swollen lips of your pussy. 

You let out a throaty moan as you felt the full stretch of his cock so abruptly - a slight sting as your inner muscles struggled to become accustomed to him after going for so long without. Sure, you had masturbated, struggling to get past the sexual frustration while being single. And you really hadn’t wanted to resort to calling on any of your random male classmates for a ‘no strings attached’ fuck because you didn’t want to deal with the social interaction or the potential rumors. 

And really, your fingers were nothing compared to the stretch of Isaac’s magnificent, thick cock. 

Isaac saw the shock on your face as you felt just how big he was, as your body ached to remember it and you felt so fucking full again. He felt a wave of cocky pride flow through him as you clenched down on him, truly feeling every single inch. 

“You asked for it,” He told you firmly, the confidence in his voice sending waves of pleasure through you - he had never been so outright cocky before. And you were turned on even more, even wetter when he added on a quiet, sharp whisper of: “Fuck, I missed this.” 

But it was a bitter, double edged sword. As much as it turned you on to hear that hushed whisper coming off his lips, it only reminded you that the two of you had been parted. That he had done something cruel to you in order for that parting to happen - that his stupid decisions were the reason that you had been forced to miss him. 

“Don’t.” You said sharply, raising your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails in as a type of warning, hoping that he would simply shut up and fuck you - mindless and hard, just like you needed. That he would make you cum, and then he could sleep on the couch for the night before finding other arrangements. 

He gave you a smirk - one that said he had found the perfect button to push, and rather than turning away from it, he was going to slam on it until he broke you. 

“What?” He said, all breath, all need - that tone that made your pussy absolutely flutter. “You don’t want me talking about how much I missed this pussy?” 

“Isaac-” You said his name in a warning tone, digging your nails into him again, but your words were cut off by him pressing his pelvis into you, angling sharply against you in a way that put pressure against your clit. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he had picked up the skill with someone else-

Erica. Of course. It only served to piss you off more, and you moved to shove him off you. 

But he began moving his hips, then - his knees poised against the mattress, using it for leverage as he began fucking you. It was a sensation you hadn’t realized you had missed so much - the smooth, wet slide of his cock in and out of you, the slight burn from him fucking you so harshly, unstretched - the pure need pulsing through you, the feeling of being so full. 

Your little gasp was quickly drowned out when he began talking again. 

“I’m not allowed to tell you how much I missed this feeling, huh?” 

Isaac grunted, his voice only wavering slightly from the effort as he sped up, slamming his hips into you harder, rougher - quickly filling the room with the sound of skin slapping against skin, easily making your pussy lips glow with a beautiful kind of pain that only made it feel so much better. 

“You don’t wanna hear about how much I missed this tight little cunt squeezing my cock?” 

He had never been like this with you before. 

Every single time the two of you had been in bed together, it had always been slow, sweet. The Isaac you knew before always made love to you. He was always so shy and loving. This was a side of him that you had never seen before, and if your mind wasn’t slowly melting between your ears from the pure pleasure, then you would have had the room to be shy about how much wetter you were getting around his cock, how much sloppier the sounds were becoming as he drilled into you even harder.  

“Sh-” You squeaked out, the potential words that you had wanted to be ‘shut up’ easily drowned out by a pathetic moan. He chased more noises out of you when he reached down and thumbed across your clit - just a light tease, but enough to send shocks curling across your spine, enough to have you curling against the bed and squeezing his cock in that way he loved so much. 

“What was that?” He mocked you, the tone of his voice a cocky imitation of the sweet way he used to talk to you, condescending in a way you should have hated. 

It was definitely not something that should have made your head float and not something that should have brought even more heat to your face. Clearly, he sensed it from a mile away, saw it written all over your face - saw another button to push, and kept on going. 

This was a game to him now. And regrettably, he was winning. 

“Aww, baby, you wanna hear more? You wanna hear more about how much I missed your sweet little pussy?” 

You choked on your own breath trying to protest against him, hating how perfectly his words got to you. And now, even your hands were numb and limp and you couldn’t claw at him as your own kind of petty revenge. You could barely even hang on as he continued pounding into you roughly, shoving you across the bed, making the headboard shake. 

All you could do was choke on your own spit and take the blurring pleasure of his thick cock slamming into you while he leaned down to purr his next filthy words into your ear. 

“You know, nothing can compare to the feeling of this sweet pussy gripping my cock,” He said, putting cruel emphasis on these words, causing your heart to bitterly ache in your chest. 

Was he mocking you on purpose? Was this his way of asking for forgiveness, saying that he regretted what he had done? 

It was something you couldn’t discern now - not with your brain so thoroughly melted by his cock. 

You let out a whimper in return, the sadness mixing strangely with the pleasure he was fucking into your throbbing pussy. 

“Nothing is better than the feeling of your soft, gorgeous body underneath me.” He added on, running his hands up your hips and to your breasts for emphasis. “Nothing is better than cumming while your pretty eyes look up at me, Y/N, you-” 

Something inside of you snapped. 

Perhaps it was because he was saying all of the right things, drifting back into that sweet man that you had fallen in love with. Inadvertently triggering all of that affection inside of you again, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

You reached up and slapped him broadly across the face. 

It was a very weak hit from your pleasure-numb hand, barely enough to make him flinch, but it was certainly enough to get his attention. 

In response, in a fraction of a moment, he paused his rough movements, completely still his hips from fucking you, and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning you down to the bed with the impressive strength of his newly worked muscles. He shoved his cock deep inside of you, settling it there, pressing his hips tightly against yours in an almost spiteful way. 

This created the battling sensations of your orgasm curling up in your stomach, already so close, and the fiery anger you had for him, along with the love for him that you didn’t want to release caged up inside of you. It was almost too much, too overwhelming while you stared into his eyes, trying desperately to read the stiff expression he wore. 

“Why are you doing this?” You demanded sharply. 

You desperately wanted to know what he wanted out of this. He had begged you for warmth, for the touch of another body against his - but clearly, this was about so much more. 

Did he want forgiveness? Did he genuinely want to work on the relationship because he had missed you? Did he see what he had done as a mistake? 

Did he want to simply rub all of it in your face? Did he want the bragging rights of having cheated on you and the ability to come back and fuck you whenever he wanted just to lord it all over you? To know that he could screw you over and still screw you? 

He leaned in closer to your face, and you were praying that he would give you a definitive answer. 

“You let me in.” He told you gruffly, his eyes dark. 

You both knew that this had a dangerous double meaning. You had dared to let him in the front door when he knocked. You had let him into your life when he had told you over and over again that he was simply ‘poison’, that it would end in pain for the both of you. Had he been right about that, after all? You knew that he had more trauma than you could reasonably comprehend, but you didn’t know that heinous self sabotage was his number one reason for ruined relationships. 

When would fighting for him no longer be viable? 

Before you could puzzle it all out, he began fucking into you harshly once again. 

“Fuck you,” You squeaked out, breathless - it wasn’t clever, but it was all you could come up with. 

Your mind was useless while his cock was turning your brain to mince meat once again, making your pussy delightfully sore and unfortunately, quickly bringing your orgasm to life in your belly with rapidly hotter waves of pleasure that he was forcing through your body. 

“You - you can’t tell me that you didn’t miss t-this,” He grunted out. 

He pressed his hips tightly to yours and grinded in deep, angling his hips in that skilled way once again that put pressure on your clit. He knew how to perfectly trap that swollen bead between your two bodies, slowly torturing you with rapid little shocks while he drove home just how full he made you feel with each stroke of his hips. 

At this point, even though you were dizzy and desperate to cum, you were also sick of his self righteous attitude - still looking to deny him. 

“I - I didn’t,” You choked out in reply, your body more than betraying your lie. 

Your muscles seized toward him and you struggled against the hold he still had on your wrists, unconsciously fucking your hips against him. You needed more friction on your clit, needing just a bit more before you could cum. 

Isaac stopped. 

He completely stilled himself, making your orgasm cold and stale, ebbing off inside of you. Tears leaked thick and bold from your eyes - partially from the denial, and partially from all of the cruel emotions battling inside of you. 

You had missed Isaac. You hated lying - but you hated what he had done to you so much more. 

You let out a choked off wail, continuing to struggle underneath his impossible strength. 

“You’re lying.” He growled in your ear, a sharp sound that sent shivers down your spine. 

It was a truth that pierced through you, utterly revealing. Perhaps you were raw from the state of being, from being open on his cock and so desperate to cum, but you knew that he could absolutely see your truth. 

You had no clue that he could literally smell it on you - your defiance, your lies, your arousal. The love you were holding back that he was absolutely rabid and starving for. 

It was a hunger that he had felt for months - one he had tried to fill by having mindless sex with Erica, by blindly running forward on the search for her and Boyd, by running headfirst into stupid fights with the opposing pack that had nearly gotten him killed. He had tried so damn hard to dull that impossible hunger with the pain of claws and hits smashing against his skin. 

But it was something that could only be satisfied by you. 

So he had come crawling back to you, lapping at your door like a kicked puppy - a powerful wolf like himself begging you, a human, for something only you could give him. That love that would fill all the holes inside of him that he claimed were never there in the first place - all those empty spaces he so desperately tried to ignore. 

“Isaac-” You breathed out again, further reminding him of just how hollow he felt when the sound of his name coming off your lips echoed off all that empty space inside of him. 

“Tell me you didn’t miss me.” He choked out in return, tears of his own blooming in his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t miss me and I’ll stop.” 

“Isaac,” You let out his name as sob, your pussy clenching tightly around him. Both of you knew that you couldn’t - you could muster this up now. 

Maybe it was a trap he had perfectly set - maybe it was something Derek had accidentally taught him. Trap the vulnerable, make them depend on you, and they can never leave you. Build a home out of glass walls and you’ll be happy for a while. 

“Tell me.” Isaac wept. “Or I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” 

He said, his voice shaking - it wasn’t a threat. To him it was a golden promise. He was a starving dog, and if you did this now, if you truly showed him that you had nothing left to give, then he would disappear off into the woods - he would starve to death or he would learn to get his food somewhere else from now on. 

“Tell me honestly that you didn’t miss me and you’ll never see me again, Y/N, I swear.” 

It was a sacred promise on his breath, barely a whisper on his lips as he tightly gripped your wrists once again, sending slight pain shooting through you, assuring you of his desperation. 

In those moments, all you could summon was the truth. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about his motives - the sheer pain in his warbling voice only did what it had always done to you before. It made you want to care for him more. It made you honest in that caring as you always had been. 

“I missed you.” You choked out, and took a deep shuddering breath, finding the courage to say it louder, more firmly. “I missed you, Isaac. Okay? I missed you! I missed you, I-” 

Your repetition of the declaration was cut off - he couldn’t help it. 

He sealed his mouth to yours in a messy, passionate kiss, his tearful cheeks clashing against your own as his hands slid up to link with yours, his fingers tangling with yours in an utterly needy way. You couldn’t help but to grip him tightly back, your fingers almost painful from how hard you did this. 

Your chest exploded with everything you had been denying - the love and affection and longing you had locked away for months, those feelings that you had damned and cursed over and over again. 

Instinctively, he began moving his hips again, fucking into you deeply. This felt more like making love - it was slower and so fucking deep, as though he was trying desperately to get as close to you as possible, trying to climb inside and find the essence of your very soul. 

You thrashed against him in response, so overwhelmed. You wailed and wept into his mouth, entirely overcome with your horrible clash of emotions. 

It was a perfect storm for one of the best orgasms of your life. 

His pelvis grinding against your clit, the relief of finally having him back, finally having told him how much you missed him, feeling his tears against your cheek and knowing that he had missed you too - finally having everything you had secretly been dreaming about, yearning for. 

Your body couldn’t help but to sing with joy over these realizations, fucking yourself against him and bowing into an utterly epic release as all your emotions crashed over you. It forced you away from the kiss to cry out brokenly against his mouth while you squeezed his fingers numbly as the sensations rocked your body. 

“Isaac, Isaac-” You chanted his name, entirely overwhelmed. 

“I know, I know,” He gurgled back, continuing to fuck you, chasing his own release now. “Fuck, Y/N. I know. Fuck, I missed you-” 

His voice broke down into a whimper as he finally came, pumping his hips a few more times before he finally planted himself against you and emptied his cum into the condom. (In the back of his mind, having a passing thought about how he hated it being there, how he wished he could feel you raw). 

That was when you saw it - a flash of bright yellow, a literal glow in the dimly lit room that was absolutely unmistakable. The only other time you had seen anything like it was when Scott had transformed in front of you to save your life. In a single moment, everything came to you in a crashing realization while your orgasm was still echoing through your body-

The newfound seemingly epic strength, the muscles, the way he had been acting so strange after his father’s death, his eagerness to get distance from you. He had been bitten and transformed into a fucking werewolf. He had been one this whole time. Wait, how long-? 

He captured your lips once again while he continued to enjoy the feeling of your hands tangling with his own, the feeling of you warm and wet, nestled around his cock - the feeling of finally being home. After a too-short moment, you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, puffing wildly against his chin while your nose brushed his flushed cheek. 

The realization was still crashing over you. 

How long had he been lying to you? Did he lie to you to protect you? Did he think that you knew nothing? Did he think that you were in danger because your mother had been killed? Were you in danger? 

You wanted so badly to bring it up, to ask him more questions, but instead, you basked in the silence - the sound of his slowing breaths, the last bit of enjoyment you could get from the fullness as his cock softened inside of you. Which reminded you-

“Isaac, you - you have to throw away the condom.” You whispered, terrified to break up the moment. 

“Oh. Yeah.” He said, clearly bitter at the idea of being distanced from you, but knowing that it was just the reality of things - that the two of you would have to part eventually. 

He finally released your hands, which were now slightly numb and painful from being in the same position for so long, and from being gripped so harshly by him, tingling with blood in that ugly sharp way. You couldn’t bring yourself to truly mind it. 

When he pulled his cock out of you, you whined from the soreness and your own hesitation at parting, and he kissed a silent apology into the top of your breast as he took off the condom and tossed into a wastebasket that was at your bedside - your room well memorized by him and still so unchanged since he had last been in here. 

In fact, he had helped you move in and had done a lot of unpacking with you when you had made the transition after your mother’s death. He felt so comfortable in this room. More than he ever had at ‘home’ with his father. 

You scooted off the bed, your body already protesting with soreness, and you moved to the doorway, intending to go to the bathroom. You needed a moment to yourself to comprehend everything and also, you needed to clean up. 

You paused in the doorway, feeling Isaac’s eyes heavy on your back. You picked up one of your shirts that had landed on the floor beside the laundry hamper - one you had been wearing just the night before. It was a black shirt with the Jigsaw spiral on it. In a sense, it reminded you of him - willing to take a lot of pain and suffer in silence, sacrifice a lot for the ones he loved. 

You picked up the shirt and tossed it at him, causing it to land awkwardly on his head. 

“Get dressed.” You told him quietly. “I don’t think my sister will be a huge fan of some naked guy sleeping in my bed when she comes home.” 

It was your not-so-subtle way of telling him that he would be spending the night, and definitively staying in your bed. 

“What am I now - your whore?” He joked, letting out a small nervous laugh as he peeled the fabric off his face. 

This was his not-so-subtle way of asking what the relationship meant to you now - posed as a joke. Did he get the precious title of being your boyfriend again? Even after all he had done? 

You shrugged. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” You told him - another insinuation. You would be back to have that grand talk. “You should get some pants. They’re in-” 

“-in the bottom drawer.” Isaac finished off the sentence easily. “I remember.” 

Of course. 

You left the room then, and Isaac watched your back until you were gone from view. He picked up the shirt you had given him and lifted it to his nose, taking in a greedy whiff of your scent - and his heart ached as he thought about all he had put you through. But he also felt like telling you the truth wouldn’t have been much better. 

…

“You’re sure that you wanna do this?” Erica posed, stepping into the locker room with Isaac. 

She was going along with his plan simply because she wanted the petty thrill of stealing someone else’s boyfriend - even if it wasn’t entirely real. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Isaac told her, checking the clock again, counting down the moments until his relationship with you would be over. “I need her to hate me.” 

Erica hummed in affirmation and nodded, and then kicked off her shoes and stripped off her jacket. When she went for the zipper on the front of her top, Isaac flinched and put up his hands in protest. He didn’t want to actually cheat on you - he thought he had made that part very clear when posing the plan to Erica. He didn’t want to actually have sex with her (no matter how much she suggested it). 

“Woah - what’re you doing?” He gaped, and she rolled her eyes at him. 

“Making it look real, dumbass.” She told him, unzipping her top and tossing it aside without care. “You don’t have to fuck me, but make it look like you were going to, at least. Make it believable.” 

His insides churned with guilt… but - she had a point. 

“You said you want her to hate you. So make her hate you.” Erica added on with a smirk. She was enjoying this far too much. 

“Fine, fine, yeah.” Isaac agreed, and then he thought of something. “Do you have the uh-?” He motioned to her mouth, to the bright red lipstick that she was wearing. “The one that you have on?” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

She reached to the back pocket of her jeans, took out the lipstick tube and handed it to Isaac. He uncapped it and - much to her horror - stuck his fingers all over it to begin smearing it across his cheeks and then his chest. Staging the scene to make it look like she had been kissing him. 

“Gross!” She complained, snatching it back from him. “You - ugh!” 

She inspected the top of the lipstick for a moment before deciding that Isaac had ruined it entirely - so she sighed and tossed it into a nearby trash can. 

She wanted to complain further about it, but instead - she got petty. 

“Okay, you want real?” 

Before he could predict what she meant by this, she reared her claws and dug large scratch marks into his back, wicked stinging and painful - marks that wouldn’t heal for at least a few hours due to his Beta status. 

“Dammit!” He cried out in protest. 

He turned and looked in the mirror then - out of context, the marks would look oddly sexual. 

She grinned at him. “You’re welcome.” 

“You are such a bitch.” He sighed in defeat. 

“Takes one to know one, sweetie.” 

Before he could come up with a clever reply, they both heard you coming down the mostly secluded hallway, able to notice you from far off due to their enhanced hearing. 

You were humming brightly to yourself. You were so happy. 

Isaac churned with regret already, but he knew he couldn’t turn back now. 

“Showtime.” Erica grinned, and pinned him up against one of the lockers, kissing him fiercely. 

… 

That had easily been one of the worst days of his life. But he had felt entirely validated when he had witnessed Gerard attempt to use the Kanima to kill Allison - the impossible power of the large reptile tightening its tail around her throat, her own grandfather ruthless enough to want her dead without caring. Something that might have actually come to terrible fruition if Scott hadn’t thought steps ahead to outsmart him. 

You were someone so kind. You were someone who always wanted to help people, wanted to save people - and it would have gotten you killed. You would have gotten in the way, trying to help someone who couldn’t be saved, and you would have died because of it. 

Erica suggested to Isaac many times that he simply let Derek give you the Bite so that you wouldn’t be ‘weak’ anymore - so that you could fight for yourself and you could be strong alongside them. But Isaac refused to even consider it. He refused to even let Derek talk to you because he knew that you would be making the choice for the wrong reasons. You would want to be Turned to be with Isaac. You wouldn’t want it for yourself. 

And - as Derek had warned all of them - there was a small chance that the Bite could kill you. And Isaac would never let that happen to you. He wouldn’t put you in that kind of danger, not for his own selfish reasons. 

So Isaac stayed far away from you. 

He started having sex with Erica after he broke up with you - the kind of harsh, mindless sex that took his mind off you for at least a few minutes. And thankfully, Erica didn’t mind when your name slipped from his lips as he came. She said that she thought it was ‘cute’ - how in love with you he was. It was likely more okay with her because she was seeing Boyd and Stiles on the side at the time. 

Her and Isaac were never anything exclusive, never anything close to being in love. It helped him see the more human side of her. It definitely made them closer friends. And it caused it to hurt a lot more when he found out that she was dead. 

Maybe it was part of the reason why he had come back to you tonight. Because Erica thought the way he loved you was sweet. She was always pushing him to go back to you because of how hung up on you he was. She thought that he should just push all of his fears aside and be with you instead of hiding from it. 

Isaac let out a harsh huff and shoved the shirt over his head before getting up to find a pair of pants. 

… 

As you made it to the bathroom, you felt an intense chill biting at your skin from walking around the apartment naked. You couldn’t help but to find it ironic that a single shiver had started all of this. Perhaps you had given all of your warmth to Isaac. 

What the hell had happened? 

Isaac had cheated on you with Erica. Or so he wanted you to believe. Either way, he had set you up for the hurt of believing it, rather than just breaking up with you. Rather than just telling you the truth. That truth being that he had been transformed into a werewolf. 

Isaac was a werewolf. 

That was a lot to take in. 

Perhaps the most shocking part - for some fucking reason, he didn’t trust you with that information. 

The basis of it all being: he didn’t trust you. 

It made you crash with hurt and betrayal all over again. Almost worse than you had felt on the day you had walked in and seen him and Erica all over each other. 

You had to ball up some toilet paper to wipe up your tears, and you stared at yourself harshly in the mirror, wondering why. 

Why didn’t he trust you enough to tell you? 

Was he afraid that you would consider him some kind of monster? Did he not know that Scott had saved your life at the school that night and since then, you considered every single werewolf to be an ally of yours in some way, rather than feeling afraid of them? Did he think that you would have shunned him as dangerous and scary because of his newfound abilities? 

Had he actually killed his father? 

You highly doubted it, seeing as he had been with you all night on the night of the murder. Even if he had been the one - you would have congratulated him for doing so. His father was a cruel bastard and you never would have judged him for finally snapping on the man. 

So why? Why? 

You finally gathered yourself enough to go back to your bedroom, and you found Isaac wearing your shirt and pair of your plaid pajama pants, leaning against the pillows, clearly waiting for you. You silently gathered some clothes of your own, and then you sat on the edge of the bed with your back turned to him. 

There was a tense moment before either of you spoke. The rain had come to a calm patter outside, making the gentleness of your voice cut through the room in a much harsher way. 

“You didn’t cheat on me with Erica.” You spoke it as a statement, rather than a question. 

You knew it to be virtually true, and you were simply waiting for him to confirm it as a fact. 

You stepped into your underwear and pulled them up, and he kept his eyes carefully on your back, trying to memorize each precious inch of you in the low lighting - as though this would be the last time he ever got to see your naked skin again. 

“How did you know?” He wondered quietly in return. 

“It’s that self destructive thing you do.” You told him. “I got you that nice watch for your sixteenth birthday, and then you ‘broke it’ running late night lacrosse drills.” 

You said, putting sarcastic emphasis on the words, not pretending to believe the lie he had told you at the time. You and Isaac both knew what had happened. 

He didn’t believe that he was worthy of nice things. He had smashed it on purpose in an emotional fit, maybe not even knowing that he was desperate to see what your reaction would be. It was an instinct to sabotage the relationship with you. 

He thought that you would scream, yell, fault him for being ‘stupid’. He thought that you would break up with him over a watch - over him not taking care of your nice gift well enough. Instead, you told him that it was okay - comforted him about. And a week later, you replaced it with a slightly cheaper version that he still had. 

“After the first time I told you that I loved you, you got into that huge bloody fist-fight with Greenberg because you said that you saw him staring at my ass.” You recounted. “But you’re not the jealous type.” 

Again - true. He wasn’t jealous, he had just been looking to get a reaction out of you. Again, it was a desire entirely unconscious to him - projecting all of that discomfort and annoyance onto Greenberg at the time. He felt like things were too good with you. You were too loving, too sweet - he was going to fuck it up sooner or later, and one day, he was going to make a mistake too big for you to forgive. 

He simply thought he should make that mistake and get it over with, rather than waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

You sighed and hoisted your shirt over your head, slipping your arms through the sleeves and letting the loose fabric fall down over your back before you finally turned to him. 

“The one thing I couldn’t figure out, though-” You told him carefully. “Was what I had done to evoke you cheating on me.” You said, your voice choppy and tearful once again. 

“Y/N-” He begged quietly, reaching across the bed toward your hand, which you quickly snatched away. 

He didn’t want you to think that his vile nature was ever your fault. 

“I finally get it, though.” You added on sharply. “You could have just told me, Isaac.” 

His chest jumped with anxiety. How did you know? You couldn’t possibly know that-

“Your eyes were glowing yellow earlier.”

Isaac sighed in defeat and slumped back against the bed. 

“How do you know?” He asked, curious about how you knew about the existence of werewolves in the first place. 

“Scott.” You said simply. 

“Scott.” He echoed back dully. Of course. 

Isaac ground his palms into his forehead, exhausted by the fact that you had found out about something he had been trying to protect you from. That he had put you through so much unnecessary pain. 

“I was trying to protect you.” He said quietly. “I didn’t want you getting hurt, I wanted you as far away from me as possible-” 

“Protect me from what?” You cried out, entirely exasperated with him. 

If there was truly some source of danger, you wanted him to tell you about it. 

But of course, that wasn’t what he meant. 

“Me.” 

He finally admitted it, the thing the two of you had been dancing around for the entirety of your relationship. 

“I’m not good for you, Y/N.” Isaac added on, his throat tight with tears once again. “You need to stay away from me, you-” 

“So you pretended to cheat on me?” You bit back sharply. 

There it was again - the stupidity of his own regret that stung him so much. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” He replied, sounding bitterly regretful rather than any kind of smut. 

“Yet we’re still right back here.” You sighed in return. 

“Like I said - I didn’t know where else to go.” 

He felt a unique guilt in running to you. But as much as he tried to deny it, you were his safe place. You were the only one he could turn to when his world was crashing down. He had done the same thing too many times when his father had been alive, so the habit was far too ingrained into him. 

Rather than reminding him why you gave him that safety, driving it home, you asked a different question that had been burning at you. 

“Where have you been staying since your father died?” You asked. 

Isaac hesitated heavily at this. He didn’t want to delve into the stupidity of his choices; the mistakes that had led him up to this point. 

You waited patiently in his silence. 

You began to busy yourself - stood up and began plucking certain pillows off the bed to put them aside, causing Isaac to stand up to the side to let you pull back the covers. You didn’t ask him to leave, which was as good as wordlessly inviting him to sleep there with you. It gave him a certain comfort, knowing that you weren’t entirely paying attention to him as you fluffed the bed and then sought out cream for your hands, going about a nightly routine. Knowing that he would still get to fall asleep with you after all this. 

“You know Derek Hale?” Isaac posed. 

That was a complex question for you. 

You knew him as the man who had ultimately killed the beast that had killed your mother. In your mind, that made him someone favorable. But Scott had warned you to stay away from him - had said that Derek was not the kind of person you should ever be mixing with, werewolf or not. And you trusted Scott with your life, and thus far, had absolutely no reason to interact with Derek Hale. So you had steered clear of him. 

But you weren’t sure how to form your opinions around him. 

“I know of him,” You replied. “Scott talks about him unpleasantly. Told me to stay away from him.” 

Isaac was happy that Scott had done so, but that didn’t set the stage so well for what he had to say next. 

“He - he kinda took me in after my father died.” Isaac explained, purposefully vague. 

“Oh.” You said, your aptitude of mixed feelings for Derek flowing through the air so easily with your voice saying this simple word. 

Clearly, Scott didn’t like him. He had never explained to you why, but whenever he spoke about Derek, there was always an oddly calm rage bubbling under the surface. Derek had taken Isaac in, which seemed like a kindness on the surface - but clearly, he didn’t care for Isaac. He had left him homeless in a rainstorm with nowhere else to go but to come crawling back to your doorstep in utter desperation. 

Derek sounded like an asshole. 

Again - you trusted Scott completely. And whatever reasons he had for not liking Derek… they seemed to be coming to light without an explanation needed from him. 

You put two pillows at the head of the bed, and then you crawled to sit on your side while Isaac leaned against the bench underneath your window with his arms crossed, staring at you with his jaw clenched. He knew you well enough to know what was on your mind. 

“Look, it’s not as bad as it sounds.” He told you, instinctively defensive of Derek, his pack Alpha. “He helped me out. And not just me. Boyd, and Erica-” 

“Oh.” You sighed, rolling your eyes, still feeling sensitive toward the name even though the cheating hadn’t been entirely real. “He helped Erica. Big fan of Erica.” You scoffed sarcastically - the image of her red lips all over Isaac still seared into your brain. 

“Please don’t be like that.” Isaac shook his head. “She was my friend.” 

“Was?” You questioned, now entirely caught up on the tense. 

Were they no longer friends, or-? 

“Erica is dead.” Isaac choked out, barely able to say the words. 

It was the first time he had spoken these words in a conscious state, out of the ice bath. It was the first time that he had truly come to terms with it. Even after Derek had brought her body back and he had helped him bury her under a circle of Wolfsbane, just as he had done to his sister Laura before (until the grave had been disturbed by two idiots not knowing what they were doing). 

This came as a shock to you. 

You had seen the missing posters plastered all over town - all over school, and you had heard people whispering rumors about her, none of which you believed. Things about how she ‘shacked up’ with an older man who ended up killing her and burying her body somewhere. Whispers about how she became a prostitute and probably overdosed, how she simply ran away because Beacon Hills sucked so much. 

Even if you didn’t like her at the time, you had always felt bad for her, and hoped that she was truly okay. You had always felt bad for her parents because they never had answers. 

You had no clue that she had been involved with Derek Hale and other werewolves. 

“Boyd just got back after being missing for months,” Isaac continued, his voice still saturated with mourning. “But it’s like he’s still gone. I don’t blame him, after what happened.” 

You badly wanted to ask what Isaac meant by this, but you held back. His eyes were distant, swimming with intense thought - he was off somewhere else, clearly speaking into open air things that he had been dying to get off his chest. So you were going to stay silent, giving him the space to let it all out. 

“And Derek -” 

He cut himself off abruptly, replaying the moment in his mind, wondering where it had all gone wrong. It made him sick - the sound of Derek’s booming voice, the glass smashing over his head. Isaac knew that somehow, it was all his fault. What had he done wrong? What had he done so wrong to make Derek react that way? 

What was so poisonous, so inherently unlovable about Isaac that made people act that way around him? 

“Derek kicked me out for no reason.” He mumbled quietly, continuing. 

“Isaac-” Your urge to comfort him was welling up again. 

And now that he had opened the dam of these feelings - unfortunately, he couldn’t turn off the flood when it came. 

“I feel so alone.” 

He declared sharply, his voice edging into a near-sob that made your chest bitterly ache. His eyes were wide and wet with tears, and you nearly rushed across the room just to hold him. 

“I just - I feel so wrong. There is something inside of me that is so wrong, that is so damn broken. I felt like… for a moment, for a split second, things were good. I had a family, I had a purpose. But it’s me, ya know? I’m just broken. I break things. I fuck everything up. If I love something, it dies. So I can’t - I just can’t be loved.” 

“That’s not true.” You rushed to say it, and before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling from your lips. “I love you.” 

It was the first time you had spoken the words since the break-up, the first time you used those words in such an anchored, present tense. 

Isaac looked at you with the most broken expression you had ever seen. 

Thousands of demons fighting to get out, his eyes so glassy with hurt. His lips quivered as he fought with it himself - he wanted so badly to say it back, but the moment he did, he became liable again. The moment he did, he became yours again and you became his - you became something he could lose. 

It felt like a death sentence in his mouth. One that he couldn’t bring himself to curse you with. 

He let out a sharp, nasal breath as the words fought hard inside of his chest. Your own pain struggled inside of you, and you knew you had to do the one thing that you did best - comfort him. Release him from his pain. 

“It’s okay.” You told him gently. “It’s okay, just come to bed.” 

You patted the empty side of the mattress, and all of the tension left Isaac’s body in an instant, looking as though he was about to collapse in on himself. He practically fell across the gap from the window to the bed, falling into the comfort you provided once again. You raised the covers for him to crawl in beside you, laying your head on his chest so that you could enjoy the sound of his heartbeat as you pulled the covers up over the two of you. 

“You are loved, Isaac.” You told him - you had to tell him. You had to let him know. “And you aren’t alone. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He replied, the words so quiet that they barely broke free from his throat. 

If you weren’t careful, you would start crying again. 

“Just go to sleep now.” You told him, putting an arm around his stomach, holding him tightly while he put a hand around your back, holding you to him, anchoring you there as though you might drift away while he slept. “It’s all gonna be okay.” 

For some reason, that felt believable to him when you said it. 

… 

Isaac slept for a few wrecked hours, maybe less. 

He was woken up by a nightmare - a vision of Erica crawling toward him, desperately crying out for help before her throat was slashed by Kali. The sound of her choking on her own blood remained swollen in his ears when he jolted awake and stared at your ceiling. It was a while before he realized that calm, sweet pattern beside him was your breathing. 

He laid there and listened to it for a long time before he got up. He found himself too thankful that he could hear your heartbeat now - that he could know with his own ears that you were so alive, so safe. 

He watched you sleep - took in your peaceful face, the way the first golden rays of the sunrise kissed at your skin - and he knew that he could never let anything worthy of tainting his nightmares happen to you. He was a damn selfish dog, but he would never let you truly get hurt just because he wanted something as fading as sex or comfort. 

So Isaac kissed you on the forehead - gentle, careful not to wake you. And he gathered his things. He crept out the door still wearing the shirt that smelled like you. He would claim that it was because he didn’t have any clean laundry - not because he was greedy for your scent. 

… 

When you woke up, Isaac was gone. 

Your sister’s bedroom door was closed and her shoes were back by the front door, so she was home safely. Isaac was not in your bed, and his duffle bag was gone. He had even picked up the soaking wet clothes that he had strewn all over the floor. 

The only evidence you found that it hadn’t all been a dream was the used condom still in the wastebasket, and a tiny note on your bedside table that said ‘I love you, too’ scribbled in his handwriting on a piece of torn notebook paper. 

You were going to track him down - and when you did, you weren’t sure if you were going to kiss him or kill him.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a 'Part 2'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, or commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for a sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

I really enjoyed writing this fic, and I do have some ideas for a potential sequel, but it's not something that I am rushing to write, and it's not something that will be on my schedule anytime soon. If you would like to, you can come into my inbox and chat about my ideas for the potential sequel - but right now they are just ideas and they will stay that way for a long time before becoming a full realised story (if they ever become one). I hope you enjoyed this fic as the capsule story oneshot that I always intended for it to be, and that you enjoy my other works if you do check them out.

Happy reading!! -Sunny <3

[call-memissbrightside]

a continuation of this one-shot

warnings: mentions of cheating, having an affair, bad-words, relationship insecurity, hints of NSFW, (Y/N) cries a lot but honestly I would too lmao

"If you think crying like this will make me want you, you're a fucking idiot."

You instinctively flinch, like Katsuki's words were physically hitting you. He notices your small movement from the corner of his eye, and moves so that his back is facing you to almost save you from the wrath he was unleashing on his ex-wife.

You weren't going to tell him what Ochako said to you. Because you knew it would cause trouble between them when that was the last thing you wanted. When accepting to marry the hero, you decided that no matter what, you wouldn't further cause tension between them. For Katsumi's sake.

Yet, it was Katsumi who told her father. Somehow she stole her mother's phone the moment they returned to Ochako's home across town and called Katsuki, explaining what she saw even if she didn't understand the whole story: mommy yelling at (Y/N) and making her cry.

Katsuki didn't hesitate to immediately coming home when receiving the distressing call from his own daughter, and scared the absolute crap out of you when he seemed to pop out of nowhere and demanded to know what Uraraka said to you.

Seeing his anger made you submit all too easily, and he patiently listened to you tell him what happened through broken sobs and snot pouring from your nose as you tried calming down. Katsuki was upset that you were upset, and had the idea to hug you, comfort you but then his phone rang.

Now he paced the living room, half listening to excuses Uraraka gave him for being unnecessarily cruel to you. You watched him from the plush couch, hiccuping now instead of intensely crying.

"I'm getting the lawyers involved," He barked, cutting off whatever his ex-wife was saying. You shake your head, not wanting to cause more drama but Katsuki holds a hand up to stop you. Leaning more into the couch cushion, you bite on your lip as anxiety digs into you.

"Tell Katsumi I love her and that she's not in trouble for calling me. You better not punish her for doing the right thing. I'll be damned if my daughter gets in trouble for calling her own father, you fucking bitch." He leaves it at that, promptly hanging up the phone before Ochako could have a word in.

Katsuki tosses his phone down onto the coffee table and rubs his face groaning. You watch, silent, not knowing what to do or say.

Noticing your cheeks were still read and how puffy your eyes became from crying, Katsuki cooed softly, "Come here baby, it's okay."

Holding his arms open, you immediately get up to let him hold you. Burying your face into his chest, you inhale his strong, expensive cologne. It works wonders to calm your racing heart.

"Let me see you, " Katsuki whispers, cupping your face gently so that you could look up at him. His red eyes burned like embers and seeing concern in them makes your bottom lip wobble so you bite it to stop from trembling.

"No, no," Katsuki lightly chastises, pulling your bottom lip with his thumb, tracing it lightly over the bite makes you gave yourself.

You still don't know what to say, but a broken, "Sorry."

Katsuki will have none of that, he scoffs and rolls his eyes, "No (Y/N), I'm sorry my ex is a fucking cunt."

You're still sensitive, and hearing him say something that cruel makes you flinch.

"Don't call her that Katsuki, she is still Katsumi's mom." You're careful on correcting him, knowing he doesn't like it when you do that.

Katsuki sighs loudly, you feel him inhale and exhale. Looking back down at his phone, he looks almost annoyed. "She is, huh?"

Turning back to you, Katsuki can't help but admire how you look at him with your full attention, like you can't help but hang onto his every word. When he leans down to kiss you, it starts off slow and sensual. His tongue dominates yours and you completely relax against him, getting lost in his kiss.

"You think all that shit 'chako said was true?" Katsuki mumbles against your lips. Your eyes were closed and they stayed closed, but your eyebrows furrowed at his question. You don't respond.

"You wouldn't have cried that hard if you didn't think it was true."

He knows he's right. You know he's right. But you continue not to say anything, embarrassed to be so quick to lose trust in your husband from one simple conversation. Katsuki looks at how how your face begins to crumble, and is hurt from your hesitance.

"Look at me baby," He demands, and a smile almost graces his face when you listen to him. Fingers that were threaded in the hair by your neck tightened, making your neck snap up.

"None of that shit Ochako said was true." Katsuki looks straight into your eyes and you knew he was telling the truth. A weight that you weren't even aware of seemed to be lifted from your chest, and you almost wanted to begin crying from relief. But you don't, because you knew that would only irritate Katsuki further.

"Do you regret marrying me Katsuki?" You finally ask.

He really didn't have to marry you. You sure weren't expecting him to when the affair was leaked to the press, and after Ochako announced their divorce in a press statement. That was hell for you, when the whole world learned you were sleeping with Japan's #2 hero, who was married and a father. It hurt even worse when people realized you were the babysitter, like you purposely broke up the Bakugou family for your own personal gain. That wasn't true, it just happened and yes, you felt horrible about it but also you and Katsuki were real. No one, absolutely no one, wanted to hear your side of the story. Their minds were made up.

You lost everything from having an affair with Katsuki Bakugou.

Your parents were so disappointed, they cut off all contact with you. You had to drop out of college mid-semester after getting harassed by your peers. Fans of Katsuki would throw things at you when you'd walk through campus. Coffee, paint, condoms. Uravity fans were even worse, calling you all the horrible names in the book: slut, whore, home-wrecker, gold digger. They bullied you online constantly, and you had to take down all your social media pages because it got so bad. And when your phone number got leaked online? You almost went mad with the countless calls and messages from trolls that you broke your phone just to have peace. You were broke because no one wanted to hire you, especially not as a nanny.

You truly thought that Katsuki would end things during that time. He would only call you from a new, secure phone his assistant dropped off at your dorm, hearing you cry about all the things people had done and all the names they called you. It was a while before you got to see him again in-person, due to his publicity team deeming it appropriate to wait it out until the divorce was settled.

You didn't think Katsuki would stick around. You already cried and yearned for him when under the impression that he'd leave you. Sure, the relationship started with just hot sex. But you liked to believe that there were moments when you saw the real Katsuki, the one who was kind and gentle with you, the one you loved. God, after all the shit you endured because of him, you still loved him. That's what made it hard to finally see him, because you convinced yourself he was only asking you out to break things off with you completely.

Yet, when Katsuki went down on one knee and asked you to marry him, you burst into tears and said yes before really thinking about it because you were just glad he loved you and chose you.

It all happened so fast, too fast and you were slowly cracking under the idea that all of this was a mistake.

Katsuki laughs.

He fucking laughs. Whatever vulnerability you felt comfortable sharing with him is locked away in your chest.

"Fuck you!" You yell, pushing at his chest but there's no way you're getting away from him. Not if he didn't want you too.

Katsuki kisses you silly, and only pulls you back when you try to speak up.

"Stupid woman," He whispers against your lips. "I must be a bad husband if I have you thinking I regret ever choosing to be with you."

He's smirking now, thumbs tracing the underlying of your jaw.

"Go to the bedroom and wait for me, and I'll show you just how much you mean to me."

Your body heats up at his words, and he finally lets you go. Katsuki was never much of a talker, but rather liked showing how he felt. You knew you would never get a full explanation from him on what or why he decided to marry you, but you body ignited at how he would explain in the bedroom.

Yelping at the feeling of his hand swat at your behind when you turn to head towards the bedroom, Katsuki laughs out loud again.

Checking his phone as he grabs his hardening cock in his pants, his eyes look over the countless messages and emails notifications to see if any need his attention immediately.

Assistant Hana: when will you be back?

"Katsuki!" You yell from the room.

"Be there in a few, calm down!" He yells back, texting a quick message.

Bakugou: i got important business to deal with at home

A/N: I was going to continue the angst but surprisingly i decided to go with a 'happy' ending. i'll probably make more one shots using this storyline, keep a lookout for them.

[btsgotjams27]

don't push your luck | knj

you’re asked to present at an important meeting, but of course, your rival has to come along for the ride.

✨ title: don't push your luck | one-shot ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope ✨ rating: pg-18 | ✨ word count: 6.4k ✨ warnings: language, joon loves to call reader a lot of pet names, suggestive language, they're both kinda jerks to one another, they've also known each other for a long time (and slept together once), both are literary agents, mentions of surgery and cancer, banter, mentions of alcohol, they sleep in the same bed, there is a small hug, reader has misconceptions of joon, did i mention angst?, reader likes to blame namjoon for her shortcomings ✨ a/n: hi--so this was originally supposed to be out for joonie's birthday lmao and here it is a few weeks later. don't be afraid to let me know what you think. i love hearing from readers.

[ MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ~ under the mistletoe (drabble)

“Hold the door!”

A heaving sensation fills your chest and you feel out of breath. Everything you could imagine going wrong before a flight happened—your alarm wasn’t set, the Uber arrived late and hit every traffic light, security ‘needed’ to rifle through your suitcase for suspicious items, and the stupid expensive carry-on you purchased has given up on you.

“You made it just in time,” the attendant smiles and scans your plane ticket.

“Oh, thank god.”

You’re grateful to be in first class and now you can finally relax. It’s even better when you look at your row and the seat next to you is empty. There are a few glares from other passengers, but you don’t care–you’ve made it, and that’s all that matters.

When you settle into your seat, you check your phone for any last-minute work emails. The flight attendant announced the plane was ready to taxi for take-off. They ask everyone to be seated and buckled.

As you’re ready to plug your earbud in, you hear a muffled bang from behind. Peering over your shoulder, you realize you’re in the row before the bathrooms. Great, you think, that’ll be fun. You can hear clinking and clanking from the bathroom door along with someone shuffling out as the door slam shuts.

“Sir, please take your seat. We’re ready for take-off,” the flight attendant says.

The man clears his throat. “Oh, yes, of course. My seat’s right here.”

You look up to see none other than the person who has become the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. They say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer and he loved to be so close to you alright–everywhere you are to be exact.

Your jaw clenches as he plops down beside you. A few seconds later, a woman emerges from the bathroom. She brushes past the attendant, holding a card between her fingers as she peers down at Namjoon. “That was fun. Call me sometime,” she grins while walking away.

“You’re disgusting.” A shiver runs down your spine as one can assume what they were doing in there.

Namjoon gives you puppy eyes. “You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, folding his arms against his chest as he looks down. Not a split second later, he turns to you with a smirk. “I can rock your world whenever you want, angel.”

If only he could see the smoke fuming from your ears. He would never let that one time you slept with him go, would he? It was a moment of weakness you wish you could take back.

You scoff at his comment. “I can’t believe they just let anyone on airplanes now.”

His eyes rake over you. “I could say the same about you,” he retorts.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, darling?”

Your body cringes at the stupid pet name. “Oh, I don’t know, to annoy the fuck out of me?” you say, flashing a wry smile.

“Ah, yes. That’s on my itinerary too, but you know I can’t resist an all-expenses-paid trip when it’s offered.”

This was your chance to make an impression on one of the biggest publishing houses. But with Kim Namjoon tagging along on this little trip? He will consume your thoughts because you can’t think of anything else when he’s around–plotting and scheming ways to take you down.

“Just stay out of my hair tomorrow.”

Namjoon sucks his teeth. “Wish I could, sweetheart. But, whatever Ms. Davis wants, she gets.”

A part of you wondered if Namjoon was sleeping with her to get to the top of the food chain, like the vulture he is. You shivered at the thought of the two in compromising positions. Namjoon’s college shenanigans were something that continued even into adulthood, you guessed. 

The blinking cursor in this blank Word document has been mocking you, thinking you’re a clown. But you blame Kim Namjoon. He’s pushed his seat back, legs crossed and reclined, hands behind his head as he’s laughing obnoxiously at the movie on his computer screen. Every stifled laugh and clap has you rolling your eyes.

You can’t concentrate when he’s around, and that’s how it’s always been since sophomore year of college. The countless conversations with yourself because you had to be ready with a witty remark in case he is a smart-ass about anything and everything.

It was a sweet relief when you walked across that stage to shake the president’s hand and retrieve the rolled-up paper. And when you lifted your tassel from one side to the other, you exhaled because you never had to cross paths with him again.

That is four years into your job, and who shows up sitting in your office? None other than Kim Namjoon–your old academic rival.

You’re 29. No man should have you gritting your teeth, ready to claw at him. Then again, he’s no ordinary man–more like the devil incarnate. He makes your skin crawl. His presence makes you want to jump out of a window–because he’s suffocating, and the air in your lungs doesn’t exist.

Okay–maybe you’re exaggerating. But right now, you want to spill your glass of red wine just so he’ll have a stained shirt.

Your mouth twists as you nudge the giggly goon head. He takes off the noise-canceling headphones. “What?”

“Can you zip it? I can’t concentrate,” you say, repositioning in your seat.

Namjoon snickers. “Aw baby, you weren’t able to concentrate before I even started the movie. What makes you think me turning it off will help now?”

With a click of your tongue, you’re unsure why you even bothered asking him, so you return to your blinking cursor and blank document.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into New York City….” the announcement continues.

Guess it didn’t matter, anyway. You’ve spent two hours unproductive on a flight while Namjoon lollygags. At least you’ll have time to work on your presentation in peace when you get to your hotel.

You notice the way he walks and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder-practically about to drop, and you can’t forget the stupid overcoat that’s a tad too big for his frame. The crooked black tie contrasts against the crisp white button-down, and you want to help him fix it, only to make it snug enough to choke him a bit. It’s the way his cheeks lightly push against his thick black-rimmed glasses when he smiles, and his crescent eyes disappear, then immediately he widens them. It’s the way his hair falls perfectly above his glasses, and he daintily moves it away like the unflawed prince he is.

You hate you notice all these details about Kim Namjoon, but you’ve been around him long enough to have your guard up in case he pulls any funny business.

He doesn’t even care to check in at the front desk. Instead, he runs off to the bar when he sees a beautiful woman walking the same way.

You’re third in the check-in line, and you can’t help noticing the crowd hanging out in the lobby. Everyone’s dressed as some kind of anime character. It almost makes you feel underdressed in your plain white tee that’s tucked into your jeans.

A nudge from the side causes you to catch your footing. You clench your jaw before breathing out a sigh of frustration. He’s like a fly that won’t leave you alone.

“Want a sip? I think you could use a drink,” Namjoon says, tipping his glass toward you.

“I don’t drink on business trips.”

“Damn, baby. Lighten up. One drink won’t kill you,” he raises a brow and smirks. “Maybe it’ll even warm you up to me.”

If only your eyes could shoot laser beams every time he opened his smart mouth. Facing him, you took a step toward him, pretending to pick off lint from his coat. “It’s cute you think I’d warm up to you,” you pout.

Namjoon gives a lopsided grin, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure we’ll become real cozy.”

When it’s your turn at the front desk, the receptionist flashes a warm smile, asking for your information. “Is this man with you as well?”

“No,” you say.

“Yes,” Namjoon chimes in.

You roll your eyes, glaring at the man who is the bane of your existence. “No. Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “He is not with me. He needs his own room.”

The receptionist doesn’t respond. She types and clicks around on the computer, her eyes darting around the screen. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it looks like we only have one room left,” she says, avoiding your gaze.

“What do you mean there’s only one room left?” you articulate, gritting your teeth.

The receptionist clicks around her screen again. “Again, I’m so sorry, ma’am. But we’re overbooked because of the anime convention in town. We can book this room for the two of you or give you a free hotel stay for another time to compensate for the inconvenience.”

Free hotel stay for another time? It wasn’t an option at the moment. You needed this hotel room to prepare for your presentation tomorrow.

Someone cosplaying as Sailor Moon walks past you and Namjoon. His elbows are propped on the counter as he faces toward the lobby. He turns to you. “Guess we’ll just have to share,” he raises a brow and licks his lips.

“You cannot think I’ll sleep in the same bed as him. I’d rather burn in hell instead.”

Namjoon turns to the receptionist. “She’s joking. She doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed because she knows she can’t control herself around me,” he grins, holding his hand out for the key card. “We’ll take what you have, love.”

You grumble, muttering curses under your breath as you grab your things, heading toward the elevator. First, he shows up unannounced, and now you have to share a room with him. Let alone a bed? What’s next? He’ll take over your presentation, you bet.

Namjoon whistles a cheerful tune while strolling down the hallway. How is he like a ray of sunshine right now? But to you, he is like a lingering cloud ready to rain on your parade.

When he reaches the door, he turns to you, still whistling, tapping the keycard against the sensor. The door almost slams in your face. You’re struggling to keep the heavy door open while dragging in your luggage.

“Really?” You huff with irritation in your voice.

Your eyes follow him as he makes himself comfortable on the bed. He’s lying down, his legs are dangling off as his feet touch the floor. And you hope the phone screen illuminating his honey skin drops on his face. You’re vile, you know. But Namjoon’s like an itch you can’t seem to reach.

Setting down your things, you walk over to him, slotting yourself between his legs, arms folded against your chest. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He chuckles, placing the phone beside him. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes raking over you. “Waiting for you to hop on, baby,” he sneers, patting his thigh.

How are you supposed to get any work done if he’s around invading the very air you breathe?

“In your dreams, Joon. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, baby girl. You don’t even wanna know what you do in my dreams.”

His dreams, huh? You’ve wondered how many times you’ve shown up. “Let me guess, am I strangling you?”

Namjoon sits up, pushing himself off the bed to stand. It forces you to take a step back. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks, “Actually, you’re the one who likes it, remember? Not me, princess.”

You’re inches away from him and you hope he doesn’t see you visibly gulp. It’s like everything is stripped away when Namjoon’s around. As much as you try to hide it, you hope he can’t see through your bullshit.

Clicking your tongue, you try to compose yourself, tilting your head as you gaze into those dragon eyes. “Keep dreaming, Joonie because that’s the closest you’ll ever come to fucking me.”

“Again—” he corrects you. His gaze turns dark as he scans you from head to toe. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, love. Don’t you want another taste?”

You roll your eyes, pushing away his hand. “Another taste of Kim Namjoon?” you tut. “Please—I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

A stupid grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. His scent invades your space again, making you step back. “Well, I’ll be sure to serve you breakfast in bed tomorrow. I hear the sausage is great.”

You huff a breath, glaring at the tall, beefy man. “I swear to god, Kim Namjoon if you don’t stay on your side of the bed—there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

Namjoon puts his hands up in defeat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep my package safe, but it's cute you think your mouth is big enough for me.” He raises a brow, gently nibbling on his bottom lip.

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Joon. Always talking a big game, but you gotta put your money where your mouth is love.” You almost retch as the last word rolls off your tongue.

The night you slept with Namjoon was a hazy one. You blame the wine that was coursing through your veins and the critique you received from your professor—it messed with your head and you wanted nothing more than to get your mind off it. Namjoon was in the right place at the right time—annoying you like always. Naturally, he wouldn’t shut up, so you shut him up. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had slept with your rival.

Walking away, you grab your bag, breathing a sigh of relief once you’re out of the room. It’s a stupid game the two of you have played since college—he riles you up, and you retaliate, but you would try your best to not let him get to you. 

You spent the last few hours sitting in the hotel’s bar, with headphones on as you clicked and clacked away at your laptop, finally getting your thoughts onto this Word document. There’s no music playing. You wanted to drown out the noise of the crowd.

As you’re facing out toward the lobby, you look up, glimpsing the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. You watch as he makes his way out of the hotel lobby, and now is your chance to sneak back up to the room and have some quiet for once.

When Namjoon’s out of view, you gather your things, making your way back up. As the door closes, a breath expels from your lips and you can finally breathe again.

Sitting down at the small table, your stomach growls, a reminder that you had ignored for the past hour because this presentation was more important than nourishment. You’re more than halfway finished, and your reward would be a delicious meal.

It’s nearly 9 o’clock, and your meal is nowhere in sight. The outline is finished, talking points are ready to go, but your laptop is dead, and with your luck, you forgot to pack the charger.

You want nothing more than to disappear and crawl into a hole and never come out of it. You’re ready to jump ship without a lifejacket—it’s practically what you’re doing going into this presentation. If only you had more time to prep instead of being thrown into this so last minute. Maybe you shouldn’t have told your boss you’re always ready for whatever’s thrown your way.

The rumbling in your stomach continues, but you’d rather wallow in self-deprecating thoughts than fill your belly with a delicious meal.

Why can’t things go your way for once?

As you’re sitting on the couch beside the window, a sprinkle of rain falls, and it’s perfect, actually–matching your exact mood. You place your chin against the jade-green velvet-colored couch, breathing a sigh of frustration.

How are you meant to get others to care when you're apathetic about why you got into this profession in the first place? You remember discovering your first author and how they made you kick your feet and giggle all night. The feeling of watching someone grow from a small audience into a commercial success made you love your job, and when you and an author are on the same wavelength and both so passionate about a story? You were unmatched when the stars aligned.

But this trip was a different story. You had been working with this author, but Ms. Davis asked Namjoon to chime in, and once something is in Namjoon’s hands, it’s never yours again. It was like a repeat of your college years.

So when Ms. Davis asked you to fill in for Namjoon, you jumped at the chance because you had missed this story and this author, and you hoped Namjoon didn’t distort the beautiful story and world that she had built. You get why everyone fawns over Namjoon. Admitting it crushes your soul just a tad, but he’s smart, charming, suave, and not that bad to look at. You just wished he’d let you have a win now and again. You’re tired of being second best.

When you hear a beep from the door, you sigh, throwing your head back. You don’t acknowledge your roommate for the night and instead focus on the rain droplets hitting the window. Pulling your knees toward your chest, your arms rest on them along with your head as you stare outside. You’re not in the mood to deal with Namjoon right now.

A delectable aroma fills your nose when Namjoon’s presence occupies your space. He sets something next to your feet while on the couch. You look at the box and then at him.

“What’s this?”

“You need to eat.”

“I already ate,” you lie, and your stomach growled, loud enough you’re sure Namjoon heard it too. You make a face, clenching your stomach, hoping it doesn’t do it again.

“Just eat,” he says, bending down to grab the box for you.

“Is this your way of poisoning me, so you can do the presentation tomorrow?”

Namjoon scoffs. “No, actually. It’s me being a decent human being. I saw you at the bar, and I know how you are when you’re in work mode. You forget to eat.”

There’s a fire rising in your chest, and you want nothing more than to be left alone. “I didn’t think the devil had a heart,” you quip back. It’s easier when he isn’t, makes you feel less of an ass—and so much for not being in the mood to argue.

He tuts. “Why are you always like this? Even when we were in school together. You’ve always hated me.”

Maybe it’s how everything’s been handed to him on a silver platter–like how he doesn’t have to work his ass off just to get a sliver of recognition. Maybe it’s because he could be the good guy, but he chooses otherwise. Maybe it’s because somehow he always shows up wherever you are, ready to take things from you.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, starve. I don’t even know why I tried.”

You groaned. “Can you just go away? You’re so annoying.”

“Me? Annoying? You’ve had a stick up your ass ever since you saw me on the plane, and I haven’t done shit to you. I’m here out of courtesy for our boss. What am I supposed to do? Say no?”

“Yeah! You should’ve.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “God–there’s no winning with you, is there?”

You ignore his comment, shifting in your seat, eyes focused on the rain again.

His jaw clenched as he backed off. “I was trying to be nice–break the ice, but it’s useless when I keep hitting a wall with you. See you later. I need a drink.”

Your eyes squeeze shut when the door slams. Sometimes you wonder if you’re too harsh or if you channeled your hatred toward something else, if it would benefit you more. But this was the circus of you and Namjoon–mortal rivals, nothing less, nothing more.

It’s well past midnight when you illuminate your phone for the third time. You’ve been tossing and turning, panicking about tomorrow’s presentation. Maybe you’d have to forgo using a slideshow and go off your outline. Graphic design isn’t your passion anyway because Canva was your best friend for presentation templates.

You had prepared yourself for having to share a bed with Namjoon, but you can’t help but notice that he hasn’t returned from wherever he went. You wonder if this was it–if it was the final straw for him, with you and your bitchy attitude.

As you’re on your phone, going over your outline, a beep from the door alerts you that Namjoon is back. You quickly stuff your phone underneath your pillow, turning in the opposite direction with your back facing him.

“Yeah, mom. Don���t worry. I’ll be back.” His voice softens when he sees the lights are out.

An indistinct voice is heard from the other end, but you close your eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

“Yes, I have it on my calendar and already asked for the days off. I’ll be back before your surgery.”

You feel bad listening in on his conversation and even worse when you realize his mother is having surgery.

Namjoon hums. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you next week. Mm–bye.”

He sets his phone down and cards his hand through his dark hair, but it softly falls back in place. You can hear him ruffling through his bag before he walks off to what you guess is the bathroom to wash up.

You turn over when there’s a sudden ache in your side. Your eyes open to see the light shining from underneath the door, and he’s pacing around as he brushes his teeth.

When the water shuts off, he opens the door, turning off the light. The darkened curtains eliminate all light sources in the room, save for the bit peeking through from the moonlight shining on him, revealing his broad shoulders and honey-skin chest. Thank god it’s dark, otherwise if Namjoon saw you ogling him, he’d have a field day. But the gawking ends when he slips on a shirt.

You shift back to the side that’s still aching and Namjoon slips under the cover, keeping his distance. You’re facing away from him, and you can’t help but hear the frustration when he huffs a breath.

Of course, the stupid ache doesn’t dissipate, and you’re back on your side, facing Namjoon. You peek an eye open. His phone is dimly lit before he turns it off, setting it on his chest. Both of his hands are laced behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, and you’re fighting the urge to say something.

What you overheard was personal, something you weren’t meant to hear. After all these years of being academic rivals and co-workers, you knew little about his life except that he was a trust fund baby and had a younger sister.

“Namjoon?” You quietly croak out.

He quickly gazes in your direction. “Sorry—did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard you come in.”

A muttered apology escapes his lips along with ‘Night,’ as he turns on his side, facing away from you.

His demeanor is different, almost as if he’s let down his guard. You’ve never seen him distraught before.

“Namjoon?”

He hums but doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Is everything okay with your mom?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, she’s okay. At least, I hope so.”

You’re nibbling on your bottom lip. “I couldn’t help but overhear she’s having surgery?”

“Oh—yeah, we, um, recently found out she has breast cancer and has to have a mastectomy.”

“Joon,” you utter. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. “Everything happened so fast, and I feel like I haven’t had time to process my thoughts. I’m trying my best to stay strong, you know?”

You place your hand under your cheek as you’re staring at his backside. The two of you stay silent for a moment.

“I get that,” you say, lying on your back, bringing the duvet to cover you. “Um, my mom also went through breast cancer a few years ago, if it’s any consolation, I suppose breast cancer is one of the better ones to have? If that’s such a thing—I mean, there’s a lot of research that’s gone into it, and there’s so much support out there if she wants it. So, um, yeah, just keep your head up. Your mom will be okay.”

Namjoon mumbles, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t turn to you, and you don’t blame him. You have been a bit of an ass to him, but you’re not made of stone—there’s a heart buried somewhere inside.

Flipping on your side, your backs are facing one another, and you hear a sniffle. Immediately, you turn back, hesitant about being in this position. In the time you’ve known Namjoon, he’s never cried in front of you. There are more sniffles, and you can hear him holding back whatever’s caught in his throat.

Your heart’s racing, your breath is slow and controlled. You shift closer to him, removing the pillow you had placed in the middle to separate the two of you.

“Joon?”

He wipes his nose and clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

Namjoon hums in agreement, and you take it upon yourself to inch closer to him. Somehow he seems so much smaller when you’re this close. You snake your arm underneath him, wrapping it around his waist, pressing your body against his. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, and then his hand finds yours, entwining them together.

You’ve been where he has and any kind of surgery is scary, especially when it’s a loved one. Your mind can only wander to the worst-case scenarios.

Your bodies are in sync as you can feel his chest rise and fall. But his breath is ragged and shaky. You suppose he’s fighting off any tears threatening to fall.

“You can tell me to fuck off.”

He chuckles. “No, I like this. It feels nice.”

Your mind finally settled during the night, and you could fall asleep. Namjoon’s snores were your alarm clock this morning. The weight of his arm draped over your waist. It was a familiar feeling—just like the day after you had slept with him. Only this time, all your clothes were on, and there was no accompanying headache.

Peering over your shoulder, he was still fast asleep, so this was your chance to sneak away. You were hoping to go over your presentation a few more times before your meeting today with the publisher. But as soon, as you decide to slip away, a buzzing from Namjoon’s side causes you to close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t trying to get up.

It buzzes a few times before Namjoon stirs awake, fumbling around to find his phone. “Hello?” he says in a groggy, raspy voice.

You shift away from him, snuggling underneath the duvet. The conversation is indistinct, and you can’t hear anything but Namjoon’s responses.

“Wait—” Namjoon sits up, turning away from you, his feet planted on the ground. “You want me to do what?”

He’s frustrated by whatever he was told.

“No, I can’t do that to her.” He quickly peers in your direction, and he sees you fast asleep. The voice on the other line continues along with Namjoon’s frustration. He’s rubbing his temple and sighs. “Please don’t make me do this. She already hates me as is.”

You can’t help but wonder who’s on the other line and who the ‘she’ is.

Namjoon shakes his head, and his voice quiets down. “She’s been working so hard on this presentation. I can’t just take this from her.”

Your heart sinks when you realize he’s talking about you. There’s no one else doing a presentation, and Namjoon was working with this author before they were handed back to you.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let her know,” he said dejectedly. Namjoon doesn’t even say goodbye. He’s crouched over, elbows on his knees as his head hangs low.

The soft chimes of your alarm go off. You wait a few seconds before reaching for your phone to silence it. Sitting up, you glance over at Namjoon who’s looking right at you.

“Morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, my alarm woke me up,” you say before flipping the duvet over. You stand, smoothing down your hair. “Big presentation today. I should get ready for the day.”

You’re ready to run to the bathroom, but Namjoon stops you. “Um, about that.”

Slowly, you turn to him. “What about it?”

Namjoon’s hands are entwined, and his thumbs fiddled out of nervousness. “Ms. Davis called and wants me to do the presentation.”

You suck in your lower lip, gently chewing on it. “But I worked on it like a madwoman last night. Why would Ms. Davis ask me to do it and then go back to asking you?”

A buzzing from your phone interrupts you. The screen flashes ‘Ms. Davis.’ You peer at Namjoon, then answer the phone. “Hello? Ms. Davis?”

“Good morning, ____. I hope you slept well.”

You hum in response.

“I know I asked you to go to New York, but now that Namjoon is there. I think it’ll be better if he does the presentation. He just has a way with words, and I think he’ll be able to land this deal, don’t you think?”

Namjoon avoids your gaze by scrolling on his phone. You remember Namjoon’s words from the day before, ‘What Ms. Davis wants, Ms. Davis gets.’

You take a moment before responding. “Why yes, Ms. Davis, I agree. Namjoon would be perfect for this presentation.”

She continues about supporting him in whatever way he needs today, and you’re seething like a teakettle that’s ready to burst. You agree with everything she says.

“Mmhm, yes. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs.”

You bid her a chipper farewell before hanging up. Your phone’s clenched in your hand, and your chest is heaving. Thoughts are running rampant—you’re ready to quit on the spot.

Licking your lips, you look at Namjoon. “Well, good luck with your presentation today. Don’t ruin it for our author and Ms. Davis.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No–you worked hard on it. You should do it.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t want to take this from me, Joon. It’s what you’re good at. You always get your way—just like when we were in school and now even at work. No matter how hard I work for everything, you’re there to reap the reward.”

His jaw clenches. He stands, walking to you. “You’re so fucking exhausting,” he spits out. “You think I’m some guy who’s out to get you or wants the worst for you–it’s like whatever preconceived notion you’ve fabricated has overlooked the fact that I’m a pretty decent guy if you could get past whatever thing that I’ve done to tick you off.” He sighs. “I’m telling you to do the presentation, but here you are blaming me.”

The warmth from his body is scorching as he nears you–it matches the energy firing inside you. Here he is, allowing you to shoot your shot, but you’re stubborn and temperamental.

Your gaze pierces through him. “Do whatever you want, Joon. I quit.”

Quickly, you gather your things, stuffing them into your carry-on. You know how ridiculous it sounds, but Kim Namjoon tends to bring out your foolishness. You’ve had seven years of him right by your side, which was too many for you. Maybe it was time to find a private island with no form of communication to escape him.

Namjoon doesn’t stop you, he lets you leave. He knows how strong-willed you are and once you’ve decided, there’s no changing it.

You wash up in the hotel lobby’s restroom, rushing off to nowhere because well–you had quit and home was two hours away by flight and it wasn’t leaving until tonight.

Cars and buses screech to a halt along with the sounds of never-ending honking. Chattering from tourists and bicyclists whiz by your side. There’s never a dull moment so you can get your head on straight. 

A buzzing from your bag goes unnoticed because you’re too busy figuring out the next steps. You don’t know what you’re doing. Quitting, so suddenly? Was it out of spite? If you couldn’t even handle Namjoon, how would you handle the next prick that came along? 

You held your arm out, trying to hail a cab, but no one stopped. Well, it was probably the worst time to grab one, anyway. Checking your phone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail, and it wasn’t from anyone you were expecting.

It was from Noa Skye, the author you were trying to get published.

“Hey ____. I know I’ve been working with Namjoon for the last several months, but when I heard that you’re doing the meeting with HarperCollins instead, I screamed! I know you’ll be able to pitch my book well because you love this story as much as I do. So, yeah, I just wanted to call and wish you good luck. You’re going to do great. Talk to you soon!”

Your heart sank to your stomach when you heard Noa’s voicemail. It was true–you loved her story, and you wanted the entire world to read it so they could laugh and cry along with you. Her book deserved to be on bookshelves and New York’s best-seller list.

Should you buck up the courage and walk in with your head held high? And for once, maybe Namjoon was right–that you were looking for someone to blame and he was conveniently the scapegoat.

Noa deserved better than this ongoing battle between you and Namjoon; maybe more you than him–but regardless, you needed to set aside your ego for the sake of your author.

Huffing out a deep breath, you pulled your hair back, ready to fight for this presentation.

Namjoon was typing furiously, looking through his previous notes on Noa’s novel. He wished he had spoken to you about what you had outlined to get a better grasp. You and Noa had been working on her novel for a couple of months before Namjoon came into the picture. Surely, he knew how to charm the pants off publishers, but sometimes he felt like you captured the heart of these stories better than he did.

You’re jabbing the number seven several times, encouraging the elevator doors to close. Looking at your phone, there’s half an hour before the presentation. You hoped it was enough time to sort things out with Namjoon and go over your outline.

Turning the corner, you find Namjoon sitting with a laptop. He looks up, almost relieved when he sees you, but of course, he doesn’t make it known.

“Thought you quit,” he says when you’re near.

You flash a thin smile, sitting beside him. “I never waste a moment where I can rescue you, because it looks like you need my help.” A glimpse of a nearly empty page proves your point.

In normal Namjoon fashion, he’s ready to bite back, but he holds his tongue. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You can say ‘thanks’ and I’ll call it even.” He mumbles something indistinct and you cup your hand up to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the sound of your ego.”

His shoulders slump, and he cocks his head. “Thanks, ___. I owe you one.”

Wiggling in your chair, you’re smiling proudly because this is the first genuine show of gratitude from Kim Namjoon.

“Here’s what I have. Can you tell me what you and Noa have been working on?”

Even without visuals, you felt the presentation went well and did Noa justice with her novel. Namjoon was another surprise. He didn’t interrupt, waited until you finished before adding in his two cents.

Although the presentation and trip to New York were short and sweet, it was eye-opening for you because you had been toying with the idea of opening up a literary agency. The sound of being your own boss sounded lovely.

“We did good, huh?” Namjoon says as he stands beside you.

“We?” You quirk an eyebrow.

He tilts his head. “You. You did a good job.”

You stand proud outside of the hotel’s driveway as the two of you wait for an Uber. “I know. I always save the day.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Well, have a good flight back home.”

Whipping your head back to him, your brows stitched in confusion. “Are you not going back to Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “My mom’s surgery got moved up, so I’m flying straight to Seoul. I’ll be back in Chicago in two weeks.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thanks,” he flashes a small smile. A car pulls up to him. “Looks like my ride's here. I’ll see you.”

Namjoon grabs his carry-on, ready to leave, but you stop him. “Joon–” He turns back around. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. You’re right. I haven’t treated you nicely and have blamed you for a lot of things over the years, and it’s no one’s fault, but my own. I hope things go well with your mom, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can call me.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Call you, hmm?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Just–” you groan. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even know why I tried.”

Namjoon lets go of his carry-on and walks back to you. “I’m messing with you.” He chuckles lowly, taking another step closer to you. He lifts your chin with his forefinger, his dragon eyes gazing into yours. “It’s our thing, isn’t it? You hate me, I hate you. We find some kind of common ground, then fall in love. Isn’t that in all the books we read?”

You lick your lips and nod, pointing to yourself. “Me? Fall in love with you? Don’t push your luck, Joon.”

read 'under the mistletoe' (a don't push your luck drabble)

[hueseok]

( 01. ) GOOD GRACES.

kim seokjin doesn’t believe in luck. he’s someone who knows that in order to have good things coming your way, you have to work damn hard for it. however, that might not be the case when it comes to bad luck, because after a video of him goes viral wherein it looks like he’s screaming at someone’s grandma, he begins thinking maybe luck does exist—and it just so happens that he’s now being subjected to a lot of unluckiness.

he’s being cancelled. his career is getting destroyed. his manager is forcing him to take a hiatus. and on top of that, as if things could not get worse, the only hope he has on redeeming everything he worked hard on depends on you, the director’s daughter of the theater show that could propel him back to where he used to be.

that should have been a piece of cake. if only you weren’t his ex who he dumped via phone call and got threatened by to never show his face to ever again...

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 4.2k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, humor, exes to enemies to friends to lovers au | ft. theater actor!seokjin + himbo energy!seokjin lmao, podcaster!reader + nepo baby!reader

warning/s: lots of swearing | lots of internal monologue by seokjin? lmao

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 01. there are worse things i could do !

seokjin never thought that the downfall of his career would happen because of a misconstrued video of him going viral where he was apparently yelling at a poor old lady in a grocery store.

but here he is, getting canceled on twitter and being informed by his manager that he was taken off the projects he was scheduled to do for the upcoming year, the brands who were once so keen on getting him on board suddenly backtracking and terminating the previously signed deals that were already discussed.

regardless of how he tried convincing yikyung, the said manager, that he wasn’t actually fighting the woman who was probably the same age as his grandmother on that short clip—and that all of this was just a stupid a misunderstanding, he’s told it’s too late. the public already made up their mind; they all hated him, and there were several gossip blogs publishing articles that had ‘receipts’ of his apparent bad and diva behavior over the span of his career.

“look, namjoon and I are working on it,” yikyung says, explaining that the PR and legal team are already in the midst of taking care of the whole problem. “but for the meantime, the best you can do is lay low for a while, buddy.”

“what?” seokjin exclaims. “are you saying—”

“you’ll be going on a hiatus.”

“hiatus,” he repeats, enunciating every syllable like he heard it wrong. he feels like he’s going to vomit, the whole room he’s in right now spinning before his eyes.

“yes. hiatus.”

god, seokjin hates that word. he’s been working his ass off since he knew how to act and sing and was the absolute fucking best at it. and now they’re putting him on a hiatus? it’s ridiculous. it’s unfair! he isn’t in some kind of boyband or anything, but he’s pretty sure that they use that term to sugarcoat the fact that the members are quitting the industry or going solo which doesn’t make sense for him so the former category is probably more applicable to his situation at the moment and—

“it’s temporary,” yikyung continues speaking, as if reading what’s going in his mind. “at most, it’ll be a year.”

that still doesn’t calm seokjin down. “you’re benching me for a year?”

“at most.”

“does it really have to be that long?”

“yeah, if we see that it’s necessary enough.”

“i don’t think a year is necessary.”

“we don’t know that yet.”

“but if you keep me away from the public that long… it's going to kill my career!”

yikyung gives him a pitiful look. “it's already dead, jin. let’s be real here.”

he gasps, genuinely offended that his manager would say such a thing. “take that back.”

“look, i’m not happy with this either,” yikyung says, “but the public needs to forget that video. It’s what everybody is talking about, it’s what every director or sponsor that’s asking us about too—nobody would want to associate themselves with your name anyway while the story’s fresh, so this hiatus won’t kill it. doing this hiatus will just induce your career into a coma. you’ll be like sleeping beauty.”

“then who’ll be the fucking prince?”

“a mindblowing project that’ll remind people that you’re the best leading man in the theater world.”

seokjin lets that sink in.

just days ago, he was being blasted with offers to do commercials and new productions due to the successful run of chicago where he portrayed billy flynn. A lot of columns praised his versatility, saying that despite reservations on how he was going to perform, he nailed the part and captured the audience’s hearts with how he made that character his own. it was the biggest ego boost he had in a while considering he was so passionate in bringing billy flynn to life and pulling off the long note he had in we both reached for the gun—now though? all the happiness that he felt before? all the acclaim he reckoned could last him a good few months to stay motivated in doing this? it’s being buried to the ground; he feels as if everything is crashing down and every good thing in his life is fading away.

guess it’s true that being too happy can cause too much sadness after.

“a year goes by so fast, you know,” yikyung tells him. “keep yourself busy. pursue other hobbies. the next time i’ll call you, i’ll make sure it’s about an offer that’ll jolt your career awake again.”

and so with no other choice, really… that’s what seokjin did.

he decides to follow yikyung’s advice and take a train back to his hometown with the plan to help his aunt run the small grocery business she had, residing there until circumstances appear better for him. he figures this break might be better than he thinks, taking into account the fact that he’s been working nonstop since he began landing solid roles years ago. maybe a restart is what he needs; maybe he can use this as an excuse to do other stuff and pursue other hobbies like he was suggested to do.

in the first month of his forced hiatus, he becomes some kind of apprentice at his aunt’s mentioned grocery store. he meets taehyung, a young man who looks way too handsome to be only arranging packed and canned goods in the aisles of the shop as another helper of his aunt; taehyung also apparently recognizes him, asking if he’s that “theater star harassing an old lady” he kept on seeing on tiktok which seokjin’s always quick to correct. taehyung never looks convinced though, regardless of how much seokjin explains, but he at least doesn’t treat him shit for some groundless scandal.

then in his second month, he begins to try pottery. there are classes for it in the same town, a 10-minute drive away and the instructor happens to be a family friend. however, after five sessions, he realizes that he’s horrible at the task and can’t produce anything that’s worth selling or admiring even. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it though, ‘cause he does, and he still attends each class or goes on his own for the following months to use this activity as catharsis.

for the third month, he starts painting; on the fourth, he volunteers to walk the golden retriever that an elderly couple neighbor has; when the fifth month comes, he begins jogging around the area, continuing that until the sixth and seventh as he progresses to running—and then on the eight month, while he’s tending to the crops he’s growing at his aunt’s backyard, he finally gets the call from yikyung that he always pretends not to care about.

hurriedly taking off his gloves that are covered with mud, he picks up his phone from the table and answers his agent’s call. “please tell me you have something,” is what he says, not even concealing the desperation in his voice.

“i have something,” yikyung confirms, sounding excited.

“holy fuck,” he whispers to himself. he’s pacing around now, thrilled and anxious, praying to the gods of every religion that this will be a good offer. “what is it? tell me quickly.”

“they’re doing grease,” he says and seokjin does an impromptu super mario impression, just jumping all over the place because of the mention of the famous musical, the kind of musical that he knows would definitely benefit him if he wants to be within everybody’s radar again. “they already have a sandy young—it’s the producer’s niece—so now all they’re looking for is the rest of the cast. I already got you an audition for danny zuko and it’s two weeks from now.”

“god, i fucking love you, yikyung.”

“i’m amazing, aren’t I?”

“the best. you’re a goddamn gift from above.”

“and it hasn’t even been a year,” yikyung proudly points out. “you’ll be absolutely back on your feet after this project. your scandal has died down, anyway. not a lot are talking about it, and some of your fans are getting better at defending you, sharing encounter stories of their own to support the claim that you aren’t a dick who has a fetish in getting into a bickering war with an old woman.”

seokjin rolls his eyes. “never describe it that way to me again.”

yikyung chuckles. “i’ll hire a cleaning lady to clean your apartment here in the city maybe this weekend. when do you think you’ll arrive?”

“some time after the weekend. i’ll have to take care of a few things before i go.”

“like what?”

“well, believe it or not, i actually made some friends here.”

“damn. i told you this hiatus was going to be good for you.”

“yeah, you are right about that. i think it was healing for some reason. aside from the first weeks of me being depressed as fuck.”

“so, what does that mean? does this mean that you think you’ll nail the audition?”

seokjin grins. he isn’t cocky for nothing. even though it was advised to him before to lower it down a bit so that he wouldn’t come across as a complete ass, he knows he’s great at this pursuit of his. he’s charming, he has an amazing voice, and he can pull off any choreography instructed to him regardless of his initial lack of dancing abilities. being a hard worker makes you that way, and it’s what seokjin thinks will always help him in every endeavor he runs after.

“you bet, i will.”

“how’s your voice? your joints? do you need to warm up?”

“i’ve been singing for the community here every tuesday and thursday. i also haven’t been physically inactive like you think i am. i’ve been exercising regularly, improving my stamina and all that shit.”

yikyung doesn’t answer for a few seconds, a silence that seokjin translates into his manager being impressed that he hasn’t let go of himself despite the circumstances.

after a few more clarifications and reminders, the call ends and seokjin flops down on the wooden chair close to him, this goofy and giddy smile erupting on his face. it doesn’t occur to him until this moment that he’s been wishing for a miracle like this to come along because he’s been missing performing on stage like he used to do during shows and even when he’s in dance studios for the rehearsals. yeah, having a reason to take a break was nice too as he expressed, but nothing beats doing what he loves to do.

and playing danny zuko? wow, talk about a huge upgrade from being mandated by his management to disappear from the public to potentially being cast as one of john travolta’s famous roles. of course, the challenge with this is that he has to make sure that he actually gets the role, which he’s optimistic that he’ll be fine with.

his reputation may be questionable once he comes back, but there’s no denying that if there’s anyone who can emanate an arrogant greaser who cares too much about his image—it’s him.

****

seokjin’s aunt was devastated when she discovered that he’s leaving. she tried to persuade him to stay longer (if not for her, for the plants and the grocery store—and maybe the crowd of people he would sing for whenever there was an occasion in the neighborhood). however, regardless of her insistence, seokjin cannot be budged; he’s been waiting far too long for this to have second thoughts about it, to be swayed from this provincial life he has come to love and genuinely enjoy.

“are you coming back?” taehyung asked him when the news of seokjin’s immediate departure got to him too. “because if you aren’t, can I have your bike?”

seokjin rolled his eyes. over the course of his stay, taehyung has become some sort of little brother he never had. “i’m coming back. just to visit though,” he said. “so you can have my bike.”

on the weekend before he left, he spent time with the people he befriended. he arranged a bingo session with the elderly; he ran laps with that golden retriever he took on walks every morning; he did his last piece of pottery with the instructor he also became friends with; then, on his very last night, he shared a few drinks with his aunt and taehyung, promising them that if he gets the part, they’ll have front row tickets to the show.

if not, he’ll jump off the bridge because he doesn’t think he has a face to show to anyone anymore. 

he earned a slap on the arm by his aunt with that one.

everything went smoothly when he came back to his old apartment the following morning, freshly cleaned like yikyung promised. nonetheless, seokjin felt it was necessary to check every nook and cranny of the place to verify that, even going as far as examining the decorations, memorabilia, and picture frames he had on display, his finger being swiped on the most random areas to make sure that every corner was polished. nobody lived here for eight months in his defense, and he really could catch a bad case of allergic rhinitis in the case yikyung was lying. he couldn’t have that. he had his voice to take care of; there shouldn’t be snot or phlegm getting in the way of the full prowess of his vocals.

for the next few days leading up to the audition, he did everything he can to assure that he’ll be in his best state when his time to shine comes. he practiced the song sandy, a solo piece sung by danny zuko, and rehearsed the lines for the scene where danny and sandy first meet again at rydell high.

in those hours he spent talking to himself, warming up his voice, making sure that he shaped his words right and exuded the energy of the greaser he’s aiming to play, he started thinking again that he seriously got a huge chance in landing this role. he’s superb at acting; he’s certain that he has the voice needed for this part; and not to mention that he’s got the looks for it, alright. his handsomeness is certainly one of the aspects that makes him so marketable as an actor.

plus, he manages to get a positive outlook regarding this because yikyung has been great in encouraging him, sending him inspirational quotes that sometimes were borderline annoying because it had nothing to do with his situation but still touching in a way.

like right now, as seokjin waits in the holding room of the theater for the audition, he receives a message from his manager with a GIF of a maneki-neko with an oversized arm and the quote by dr. seuss saying, “you have brains in your head. you have feet in your shoes. you can steer yourself any direction you choose. you're on your own. and you know what you know. and you are the guy who'll decide where to go”.

it is a little aligned to what he’s going through right now but seokjin can’t help but still grimace in distaste.

“kim seokjin?” the casting assistant calls, and he snaps his head up from the screen of his phone to peer at the person who called him.

he stands, gaining the attention of the casting assistant. “here.”

“great. follow me please.” she smiles and begins walking to where the stage is without checking whether seokjin followed her or not. 

he does, as quickly as possible, thankful because he can finally get away from that enclosed space with fellow auditionees who were either gaping at him or chatting him up, asking about the hiatus he did. he’s smart enough not to give any specific details, instead saying the standard “mental health break” or “sabbatical leave” that they seemed to buy.

walking across the stage, his eyes squint a bit at the spotlight directed to him. then, stopping at the center, he averts his gaze to the two people who are sitting on the front row seats. hyunbin park the director and seungjoon ahn the producer. they both appear serious, like they’re bored, or like they’ve been unimpressed by the roster of auditionees they’ve been having so far.

it creates a spark of hope for seokjin who’s confident that he might just be the person that’ll blow their minds for today. even though this is his first time performing in front of a professional again, he’s learned over the years to trust his skills more, and he knows that he’s definitely adept for the tryout happening at the moment.

“kim seokjin, isn’t it?” mr. Park says. he’s the more intimidating one out of the pair. he’s famous for having directed a lot of shows that got to win several trophies in every award giving body that catered to the theater industry. aside from this production being an anticipated project of his, he’s scheduled to direct a movie with a star-studded cast.

seokjin nods. “yes, that’s me.”

“wait a minute, i know you,” says mr. ahn, an index finger pointed towards him. this man doesn’t look that much older than seokjin. give or take about only five years his senior. “i’ve seen you somewhere. where have i seen you?”

seokjin swallows hard. fuck, fuck, fuck. kill me now. bury me in the ground. shit. i hope he doesn’t realize that i'm—

“ah! i remember.” mr. ahn laughs, turning to mr. park. “isn’t he the guy who played corny collins three years ago or something?”

a huge breath of relief escapes seokjin.

mr. park nods unsurely. “yeah, I think so. did you play corny collins, son?” he asks.

“i did.”

their faces significantly brightened.

“well, i’m looking forward to your audition, seokjin,” mr. ahn says. “i watched the media preview of hairspray back then. i was a great friend of jiyong.”

jiyong was the director of the said show.

“you may begin,” mr. park adds, gesturing for him to go ahead before readjusting the glasses he’s wearing. “break a leg.”

seokjin flashes a dazzling smile and begins.

****

yikyung: how was it? yikyung: the audition should be over by now. yikyung: tell me how you did! yikyung: i’ll be like this for the whole day until you reply. yikyung:

seokjin: do you think sending gifs is cool? seokjin: bc it’s not

yikyung: you didn’t answer my question?

seokjin can’t stop grinning. he’s had this grin since he finished the audition and walked out to the lobby, his mind replaying the events that took place during his performance and the reactions of the director and producer after he was done.

even though the two didn’t make their verdict apparent, seokjin had a feeling that he was going to get cast in this show for the reason that as soon as he finished belting the last line of the song sandy, mr. park and mr. ahn shared a look with one another, their eyebrows raising in what comes across like understanding.

now, quick disclaimer, seokjin doesn’t read minds, but he’s pretty sure that that’s a good sign. he’s done his fair share of auditions and seeing an interaction like that from people who are in charge of casting always raises the chances that he’ll end up in the project. it’s a really big tell from what he thinks—and it’s what’s prompting him to almost skip like a little girl while walking to the café nearby where he’s planning to treat himself with the mouthwatering strawberry cream croissant he saw on their display earlier, nothing in his mind other than fantasies of receiving a call as soon as he gets home confirming he got the part.

maybe i should start incorporating black leather jackets into my wardrobe more… it is what danny zuko wears half of the time in the film and since i’ll be danny zuko, it can be some kind of way i’ll be able to internalize the character and be fucking amazing in this…

clearly, doing an inner monologue isn’t advisable when you’re walking along a busy street filled with people who are obviously in a rush to get to where they’re going.

because as he continues marching forward, taking a quick turn to the café he’s aiming to go to, his thoughts everywhere aside from the path he’s strolling on—his arm bumps against someone’s shoulder, ceasing his daydreaming and causing him to glance back, about to utter a quick apology if it wasn’t for the sight that greets him when he does.

he wrinkles his forehead, gazing at you.

there’s no doubt in his mind that it really is you who he’s looking at, but due to the fact that it’s been approximately 9 years since you last saw each other, seokjin asks himself whether this is legit or is his imagination taking a sinister route and letting him imagine how it would be like to meet the person he doesn’t want to see on a perfect day.

“well, shit,” you say, staring at him with the same surprised yet puzzled expression. your features look more mature, your hair is styled in a different way, your choice of clothes is more sophisticated—yet despite the subtle changes, you’re still as attractive as you were when he last got to see you. he might even dare to think that your attractiveness leveled up as well. “i’ll be damned. it’s you.”

seokjin feels his throat closing up, reality sinking in that you’re really here in front of him. “____?”

“i’m flattered that you remember.” you chuckle. “or that you’re not pretending to have amnesia to escape this conversation at least.”

to be fair, if it registered to him a few seconds earlier on who you are, he might have done exactly that.

but of course he doesn’t admit it. his ears just turn red while he utters a lie. “that’d be silly. it’s not like you’d believe me if i said that.”

“touché. but i still reckon you’d do it. you are an actor.” a smirk makes its way to your lips. “how’s that going, by the way? last time i heard, you’re being murdered on twitter and being called a world class asshole.”

he winces slightly. “that’s an exaggeration.”

“i don’t think so. you are on hiatus because of it, aren’t you?”

“not anymore.”

“oh?”

“you seem disappointed,” he retorts. “then again, i wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been praying for my downfall ever since you-know-what happened.”

“you-know-what? do you mean when you dumped me?” you explicitly say, not even missing a beat after he was done speaking.

yes, you’re an ex-girlfriend. sadly, an ex-girlfriend he knows he didn’t treat well because of what you just reminded him of.

he presses his lips together, gathering all the confidence he has left. “yes. i do mean that. and i am sorry about it. truly.”

“you dumped me over the phone.”

“i’m aware of that too.”

“you didn’t explain why you wanted to break up.”

a pause. “yes, i didn’t.”

“and just because we coincidentally met again after so many years, you finally apologize?”

“that’s about right.”

“it doesn’t sound very sincere to me.”

he widens his eyes, surprised that you’re not letting this go as easily as he thought you would. from what he remembers, you’re the type of person who doesn’t hold grudges; you’re the type of person that everybody would say was genuinely good. in fact, it’s what he was mad about years back when you were still together—how you often let other people take advantage of your kindness, often putting you in a position of being a doormat or an emotional punching bag.

but that’s almost a decade ago. he feels bad that he’s not sure whether to be proud of you or to be a bit frustrated that he’s on the receiving end of this.

“anyways,” you add after the excruciating awkward silence, “as much as i want to give you a piece of my mind, i have to go. i’d say it was nice seeing you and that we should catch up sometime, jin, but that would be a lie.”

seokjin’s supposed to let you go despite his conscience eating him up. he’s not entirely stupid, it’s apparent that it’s better not to reopen healed wounds, and judging from the manner you spoke to him, you don’t want to give him an opening to enter your life again.

but then your phone rings, which you’re holding on one hand while the other holds a paper bag from the coffeeshop. And then, seokjin sees it—sees mr. park’s face on the screen with a caller ID named ‘dad’, that he can’t prevent himself from staying still and allowing you to leave without explaining what he’s witnessing right now.

“wait,” he holds your elbow as you’re trying to walk past him, “your dad isn’t mr. park, is he? i know your dad. He’s not hyunbin park.”

you blink at him, confused at the random question, however a wave of understanding swiftly washes over you. he watches you grin all of the sudden, eyes twinkling in amusement. he’s familiar with that expression, and it’s scaring him to death because he now has a pretty good idea on what your answer is going to be.

“you’re here in the city because of an audition,” you state, tone so sure that it makes him sweat. “don’t tell me… You’re auditioning for grease?”

he doesn’t tell you he’s auditioning for grease.

your grin widens even further, your next sentence inducing a sensation that might be a heart attack.

“then you’ve met dad. he is hyunbin park, the director.”

fuckity fuck fUCK FUCK!

note. AHHH first chapter is out! i hope y’all like this because i’m happy with how this turned out hehe. this drabble series will only have 10 episodes and i’m gonna pray that i get to finish this before the year 2024 ends 😭

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[genericpuff]

The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere (Pt 2)

Alrighty, I promised a part two back in the first part of this analysis, but found myself busy with Rekindled and my day job, so I'm finally sitting down and finishing this up. If you haven't read that first part yet, please go check it out!

CAUTION: THERE BE FASTPASS SPOILERS AHEAD!

We left off with Hebe and Apollo roleplaying that one scene from The Lion King, albeit with a lot less sense or nuance. Literally all the "drama" so far feels purely manufactured for cheap plot progression and tension and it hardly feels authentic. But now we gotta talk about the second half of this episode, where we finally address the cliffhanger that the FP midseason finale episode left off on - Persephone causing winter.

And what better way to kick it off than with a completely off-base Persephone monologue?

Now, what's shown here is actually a flashback to the job interview scene from S1, when Persephone asked to see the snow in the Underworld. But it's written as if Persephone has some intimate relationship with snow as a whole, as if she's experienced more than this one time which... she hasn't. There was nothing "romantic" really about that scene following the job interview, she literally just wanted to go out and see something she hadn't seen before.

But that calls into question - why does Persephone constantly act like she has an intimate relationship with snow when it doesn't occur in the Mortal Realm? She even says in the honeymoon episode that it's hot all the time in the Mortal Realm, and the temperature only drops every now and then during rainy days... and she somehow makes this about Hades when it literally has nothing to do with him lmao Persephone monologues are some of the worst /r/im14andthisisdeep moments in the series because she's constantly using word salad to describe feelings we never saw or scenes that never happened.

And this scene is no different. She says that snow is something that's interwoven with her most 'treasured moments' but all the visuals have to show for is that one scene from S1 that, again, didn't even come across as a 'treasured moment', it was just her seeing the snow for the first time, there was nothing 'romantic' about it in a vacuum. All the moments from the series you could call ACTUALLY TREASURED milestones of Hades and Persephone's relationship - and Persephone's supposed "love" for the Underworld - are scenes where snow was completely absent (ex. the scene of Persephone and Hades talking about Sicily in Zeus and Hera's garden, Persephone and Hades spending the night in the cabin during the trial arc, etc.)

But then, to make it even more confusing, she goes on to describe her losing her powers and causing winter a "betrayal". As if the concept of winter owes her anything. As if Erebus owes her anything.

The allusion to Erebus itself in the visuals implies that she feels "betrayed" over this happening, as if it wasn't made ABUNDANTLY CLEAR TO HER that she would have to sacrifice something. She's gone SO LONG without knowing or caring about what she could have possibly given up, that by the time it finally revealed itself, she's acting all shocked Pikachu because there's finally something she can't just have. Everything that could make her seem imperfect has been washed away, from her SA trauma to those pesky green hands. Now we finally ARE seeing her affected by her own choices and she's basically waxing poetic about how sad it is that her actions have consequences.

That said, she does seem to have a moment of self-awareness here... but I can't be confident it will actually amount to anything seeing as how all the past attempts at 'growth' have been overshadowed by her vanity and ego.

This line is really confusing / weird in the way that it's written but I think she's trying to say that the source of the cold is from her, she can't pin it on any sort of 'big bad' like she could with Apollo and Kronos. It's just her.

And again, this could be a moment of realization for her that her actions are her own regardless of whatever she wants to pin it on-

But she rejects it instead. She's still not capable of acknowledging that her choices affect others, that her actions have consequences, that she's finally paying the price for something she knew had a cost.

If this were any other comic, I would accept her rejection of this, I would have confidence in knowing she may recognize it eventually. But this is LO and we're three seasons in, she's technically already gotten her happily ever after in the form of becoming Queen and married to her 'true love', so all of this feels like a very last-minute attempt to paint Persephone as this "struggling" character. But she's not "struggling", she's just finally experiencing karma catching up to her and as expected for a person like Persephone, she's already cracking under the pressure of realization that she can't have everything she wants.

Again, in any other comic, this would feel satisfying or endearing to see her fall on her own sword, but to me it just feels frustrating in the context of LO because we've spent five years seeing her get everything she wants with barely any real struggle that wasn't manufactured - with all of it painted as a GOOD THING - while still getting away with treating the people around her like shit.

And when I say she rejects this concept of having humility, I don't just mean through her monologuing, but also through her actions.

If I were to critique LO the same way I would an actual functional series, I would say that this should be the point of realization, the point where we see her crumble under the weight of her not being perfect, not being able to "fix" everything. It all stems back to her entitlement as a bratty main character, someone who can't fathom not being the main character or the "hero".

Because she's not the hero. Demeter is - or at least, she tries to be.

Again, it's hard to know if this is intentional or if this is yet another attempt to present Demeter as an "overbearing mom", but Persephone here looks and sounds like she's been reduced back to the state of a child crying for her mother in the face of her own failures. Despite now technically being a mother herself (through literal babynapping sigh) Persephone is still not a mature adult. Aging her up 10 years and giving her a husband and baby will not make her an actual functional independent adult who's capable of taking care of themselves or making the right decisions... unlike Demeter who is still, ultimately, more skilled than Persephone. She is an actual experienced and mature adult who's capable of rationalizing and decision making, and knowing when it's time to put aside your ego, walk away and let someone else who's far more qualified take care of things.

What Demeter has is something that one can only gain through true hardship, failing, learning from one's own mistakes, and experience, all of which Persephone does not have because she transitioned from a cage of her own imagination where hard work and responsibility was a virtue, into a gilded cage where true hard work can be passed onto someone else whose efforts she could take credit for while sitting on a throne and buying anything and everything she could ever want.

Despite everything Persephone and the narrative claims to have 'earned', she's still a child. The adults have to take over.

And like a child, she doesn't let them.

This is not an 'anime moment'. This is not a moment of redemption. This is immaturity and irresponsibility in its most visible form for Persephone - refusing to let go of her ego and shortcomings to "prove herself", even if it means making things worse.

And Hades enables it.

I want to make it clear there is a massive difference between not being controlling over someone, and actually enabling them.

This is not some small hill to die on. Persephone is literally causing winter, which could very well kill the Mortals. As we've seen in that prior Hebe scene from the first part of this essay, the snow is showing up in Olympus. This isn't something that's happening in the isolation of this single scene, this is happening everywhere and instead of taking the L, Persephone is trying to make things 'better' by simply 'trying harder' which is just not the solution here, Demeter knows this, but Hades is playing the "girlboss" version of a "good husband" by not even bothering to try and convince her to do otherwise. Hades above everyone else should be the one stepping in because he'd likely be the only one she'd actually listen to, but he's refusing to because he has to be the "good husband" who doesn't control the actions of his wife.

So he flat out enables her instead by not even bothering to try and reason with her, to help her see that what she's doing is not helping. Not even so much as a "Persephone, I know you want to help but it's clear something is wrong and if Demeter can figure out what to do to fix this, we should let her", just him saying to Demeter who wants to stop her that he can't stop her from trying... ignoring the fact that he should at least try.

And that's the difference between being controlling and being an enabler. He's not keeping her from doing something that benefits her and doesn't harm him or others. He's not micromanaging her decisions or trying to tell her she's not capable. Now, don't get me wrong, there are definitely things that make Hades a walking red flag especially when it comes to him being a groomer, but when it comes to directly controlling Persephone, most of the time she's doing things of her own accord convinced that it's "the right thing" (which is still just a side effect of the obvious grooming because I really doubt S1 Persephone would have done this shit lmao).

Here, he's not stepping in to even try to reason with her because "well I'd be a bad husband if I stepped in", completely ignoring the fact that it makes him a terrible person, period, to not at least try to calmly reason with his wife and explain to her that her 'help' is not going to help here. Just like when he rewarded her with sex for abusing a nymph in her own home, he's completely complacent to Persephone's actions and doesn't step in to try and help because, according to Wattpad and TikTok, a "good husband" is someone who looks the other way while his life partner does whatever she wants regardless of the consequences to herself and others. "Happy wife, happy life, who cares if the wife wants to be an actual piece of shit to people if it makes her happy".

And thus she makes things worse in her pursuit of "happiness", while Hades stands idly by, watching it all unfold as if he's just an innocent bystander who can absolve himself of any responsibility in this situation. As if she didn't become this way because she ate the pomegranate to be with him and a part of his world.

Now, there's one other sort-of-blatant smoking gun that I want to talk about that I haven't really seen anyone else mention since this episode went up. Granted, this might be me reading far too much into it, but hey, that's what this blog is for and I think it's something that absolutely needs to be mentioned.

Persephone goes on about how her powers aren't just gone, they've been replaced, all she can create is decay, and more specifically-

Now... think of the context of LO's narrative, what it's told us both literally and through subtext, intentional or not.

What does this sound like?

Hades lost his ability to produce children when he ate the pomegranate. He can no longer "create life".

And now, Persephone is finding herself in a similar situation, unable to "create life" the way she knows how. I'd like to think this isn't literal, but it really feels like there's a metaphorical implication here that Persephone losing her ability to create life is meant to be taken literally, that she not only can't create flowers and plant life anymore, but she's lost her fertility entirely. You can go even further back in this when it was established Persephone didn't eat six seeds, but nine, which originally felt like a weirdly random choice, but now seems intentional. I know some people have theorized that it has to do with her possibly being pregnant, but I don't think that's the case, I think it's the opposite - that the 9 months was a metaphor for the 9 months of childbearing that Persephone can no longer do.

And if that's the case... LO truly is no longer a "feminist" piece of work. It barely was before, but if the point of all this winds up being an attempt by Rachel to give Persephone a "flaw" by taking away her ability to bear children... that'll be a punch to the gut.

That said, if it does go somewhere, maybe the point will be Persephone learning she doesn't need to be able to reproduce to have value as a woman. But considering LO's track record with these sorts of plotlines, I can't be confident in the slightest that's where it'll end up. What I can be confident in is that Persephone will likely not stay this way. Like her green hands, she'll likely get her powers back, maybe after the resolution that she's still a real woman deserving of love even if she can't reproduce. I can't possibly know at this point where it's going, all I do know is that LO hasn't done a great job at resolving these sorts of deeper narratives so this just feels like another dart on the wall of bad ideas. Because it's, again, all being framed through Persephone being the "perfect woman", without there being any actual subtext throughout the narrative to imply that this may be a flawed ideology to have, it's just what Persephone has to be and it's sold in the narrative as a positive.

There's one term to describe this with that's rather consistent throughout LO when you peel back the layers of both the comic and Rachel's past work - white feminism. Despite LO's attempts to be "feminist", it's still ultimately being written through a heteronormative male gaze, that women are only "valuable" so long as they're youthful, that any goals or dreams a woman may have should be dropped as soon as they fall in love with a rich and powerful man, and that "other women" who don't fit into that mould of being rich, white, and heterocis are not worthy of love, empathy, or understanding. It's hard to trust that LO will actually challenge these norms when it's been practically enforcing them for five years.

But ultimately, that's a very loaded topic and right now, we don't know where this is going... I'm just not so sure I want to see it after all the missteps the series has pulled over the past half a decade. Like the miracle of childbirth, it's gonna take a miracle for LO to actually stick this landing.

Now, I'm assuming you read this line of dialogue, and you understood it. Yes? You positive? Okay, great. Why am I asking you this question as if you're an infant who doesn't understand what being "passed out" means? Well, you'll see what I mean in a minute.

Now, again, like with the whole "I can't bring life to anything anymore" thought process I just went through, I can't know exactly what they're trying to do here, but Demeter is fully in the right. I want to make that abundantly clear that Demeter was right the whole time and it's pretty telling that even a lot of the people reading the comic in good faith are pointing this out in the discussion circles they can actually access.

Now, in case anyone hasn't noticed, it's clear that Demeter herself is drawing upon the fertility magic of Gaia or Rachel is just alluding to Gaia for some reason. At first I thought it was supposed to be her form of "wrath" until I remembered that (unfortunately) Eris was the only reason for Persephone's wrath, so this is clearly meant to be some allusion to Gaia. Considering the fertility powers were passed down purely through Gaia and Ouranos, this means Demeter is a descendant of Gaia, which... calls into question Rachel's attempts to "remove the incest" from LO, but that's for another topic.

Either way, Demeter is fully in the right here. Hades is a fucking idiot - a useless lump - for not only enabling the shitty actions of his shitty wife, but for not taking even any amount of accountability for the fact that Persephone found out about the pomegranate through him.

"But Puff, she had to eat the pomegranate to beat Kronos!" Did she? Or was that purely manufactured for Rachel's sake because she just had to have an MCU Evil-Robot-Jeff-Bridges villain despite the fact that this FANTASY ROMANCE series didn't need one? The fact that it was written purely to 'force' Persephone into doing something she already wanted to do was completely redundant, it wasn't a 'sacrifice' she made, it was made pretty clear in Episode 165 that she wanted to eat the pomegranate as soon as she found out about it and while that decision is certainly her own, that does not absolve Hades of responsibility for not questioning his future wife's fascination with it or realizing that he unlocked the inner Pandora's Box of Persephone's mind.

And so, Demeter holds him responsible. As she should.

Okay, you read that, right? But remember that line I asked you about before? We should all know Demeter doesn't mean this literally. We have brains and we should all have a minimum amount of media literacy to understand that Hades was telling the truth when he literally said Persephone was "passed out".

We finish the episode on this panel, which I swear to christ I couldn't tell you in all of my own divine wisdom of the arts what in the world is going on in this panel. I'm literally looking at salad.

Is it Demeter and Persephone? Just some dying plants? I have no fucking clue, your guess is as good as mine.

But we're not done. Because we have one more glaring issue to talk about with this episode, and it comes in the form of an author's note that was inserted at the end of the episode. It is truly, despite EVERYTHING we've talked about in both parts of this analysis, the dumbest, most airheaded and egregiously pretentious thing I've seen in this entire episode.

Rachel quite literally put in a fucking disclaimer telling her audience what Hades already told us point blank in the comic - "Don't worry, audience members, Persephone is not literally dead, it's a metaphor for her spring powers being dead!"

I literally can't even express to you how pretentious and shitty this is of her to do. I can't tell if it's legitimately her thinking her writing is "too smart" for even her older audience members to grasp, or if she just wants to dispel the theories that people would want to make about this, or if she completely misconstrued the criticism about her writing not being "clear enough" and thinks that THIS is what people meant. Pardon my tone because I've kept it together relatively well throughout this post, but this is some 2009-era Fanfiction.net level of author's note bullshit.

If she thinks her writing is "too smart" for her audience to grasp, I'm sorry Rachel, but you're just wrong and this is incredibly shitty of you. You think the 14 year olds in your community aren't also reading other webtoons that have deeper writing than LO? I read Death Note when I was fucking 14 and I knew exactly the point of what the story was getting at by the time it was over, despite all the other stories I read at that age that completely flew over my head. And you think LO is somehow more complicated than Death Note, baby's first introduction to the grey areas of morality and justice?

If she's trying to dispel the theories... that actually holds some merit because not only is Rachel notoriously bad at not letting her fandom just talk about their theories without her swooping in to "um actually" them (even if it means killing the fun of theorizing), but the official FP page on FB was closed to new submissions in the hours following this episode and it since hasn't posted any new content. Is it because people aren't posting? Absolutely not. The mods are quite literally holding these posts hostage through the submission and approval system. People are legitimately trying to submit only for the mods to block it entirely from going through. If this is Rachel's attempts at trying to "protect herself" from the criticism this episode has surely earned, then all she's really doing is punishing her own fans who want to talk about it. It doesn't matter anymore that the discussion groups are finally back from 3-4 months of being shut down over the hiatus, they're still not being allowed to operate. The best there is now is the Discord and it's undoubtedly just as heavy moderated as the FB groups.

And as for the third possibility, this also feels like an attempt at Rachel trying to make her writing "more clear" without actually putting in the work of writing a good story. She's undoubtedly seen the criticisms towards LO as a whole that it doesn't express itself clearly, that it constantly flip flops on character motivations and information that has been established, and that any monologuing that's done implies things or events that we've never seen unfold on screen (case in point, the Persephone monologue from the start of this episode) but she seems to have either misconstrued or ignored the point of that criticism entirely by solving it with a quick and shitty author's note at the end explaining her intentions with a scene that was already clearly laid out to us. Instead of putting in the work to write a concise story to explain the things that are a bit more under-developed, she's slapping in a spoonfed explanation for scenes that literally don't need explaining and that ultimately cheapens the scenes that are TRYING to have impact, bringing them down to the same level of mediocrity as the scenes that never had the impact they intended to have to begin with. "You've killed the Goddess of Spring" was plenty clear after Hades said she was passed out, Rachel. Taking the time to explain it in a note at the end is just sad and it really goes to show what you think of your audience, especially when it comes to how you treat your fans in regards to community accessibility in the official discussion groups.

"The haters" didn't set this comic onto the path that it's on or ruin the fanbase experience, Rachel - you did.

[numberonetacostan]

polycule anon is back i have more thoughts (just gonna use ✨ as a sort of tag so you know it’s me lmao)

i have more hcs:

- more tacomic centered but i could totally see mic fidgeting via doing taco’s hair in tiny little braids. not only bc it’s cute but also bc i think taco really likes having her hair played with for some reason. just thinking about them watching a movie together with taco leaning against mic while mic braids and unbraids her hair to keep her hands busy

- i love the nest hc that i’ve seen on this blog as well and i think it’d be 10x more fun with the polycule. girl is stealing all of their clothes and there’s nothing they can do to stop her. she is such a little thief

- again related to a hc mentioned on this blog: taco hoarding stuff. she totally steals random little trinkets from everyone in the polycule (provided they’re not important to them bc she would never upset them like that) and stashes it away in one of her little hiding spots that nobody else can fit in. sometimes just to mess with them she’ll return it to the exact same spot she found it in days or weeks later. mepad is 100% sure it’s her but just lets her keep doing it since it’s not harming anyone

- just. all the little passing touches between them all. hand holding, little kisses when they’re saying hello or goodbye, etc. i personally think taco is really sensitive to touch bc it’s just been so long, so she reacts a lot better to random light touches than sudden hugs or smth. in turn she’d probably act the same with everyone else since it’s what she’s comfortable with. so just. constant little passing touches whenever they see each other

- i love the wingman idea you mentioned so much. i think it’d be extra funny if mepad was completely aware that taco liked him but knew she needed to take her time sorting it out and all. he’d probably wait for her to come to him unless it becomes increasingly obvious that she won’t and he has to do something or she’s just going to be constantly trying to awkwardly flirt with him but never going any further

- give me taco and toilet bonding over the fact that they both messed up so much but still have people that care about them and want to help them. they are genuinely so similar to each other it drives me insane

- mepad is so sweet with all of them even before they get together. he’s always willing to help comfort any of them and is the first to offer up encouragement or kind words. i think he’d also be the first to say how proud he is of them when they do something they’ve struggled with in the past (ex. mic standing up for herself, she’s def gotten better about it but i’m sure she still struggles at times; taco actually communicating properly and being more open about her emotions; i don’t have a example for toilet tbh i tried coming up with one and just couldn’t)

- related to the above, mepad definitely has to help mediate when taco and mic have issues in their relationship. they both tend to fall back into their own patterns which is not healthy and only really causes problems. he notices them start to avoid each other a bit and sits them both down to talk out what happened and why they’re both upset. it helps when he knows enough about taco to figure out what she may have done even if she won’t say it

Hi Sparkle!!!!!!!!!^^ happy to have you back, and thank you for submitting more of the polycule of all time!!!!!!! XD

Awwwww hewjjwhw!!!! I imagine that after all the time in the woods, Taco is really really happy to be able to have clean hair again!!!!!! So getting it played with like this would make her so happy!!! No more oily, matted hair, only soft happy braidable hair!!!!! And Mic would love love to touch it!!!!!!^^

LITTLE THIEF!!!!!!!!!!^^ yay!!!! I'm so glad you like my hc!!!!!! :D omg she would steal clothes from all of them and just!! Revel in how safe and warm she feels with something of theirs surrounding her!!!!! Mepad's stuff would be so massive compared to her it's so cute <3 <3

Omg little thief part 2!!!!!!!! She can take little knick-knacks of theirs and keep them in her shell too!!!!!!! Just something little from each of them so she always has her partners with her, in a way. Mepad would find it very cute <3!!!!!

YES YES YES!!!!! She would be so sensitive to touch after the homeless era!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They would be so sweet and patient with her, letting her take the lead in a case-by-case basis. Some days Taco maybe want to snuggle for hours, and some she doesn't want to be touched at all!!! And that's perfectly okay and they never touch her without knowing she'll be okay with it!!!!!^^

OMGA Mepad knows and is totally chill and just gonna let her figure things out for herself and even though he reciprocates he wants to give her that space aaaaaaaaaa I love Mepad so much. I also think he would be a better wingman than Mic, but only because he's subtle about it. Mic is not.

TOICO PARALLELS DID SOMEONE SAY TOICO PARALLELS BOTH WHO HAVE MADE SO MANY MISTAKES AND ARE CONSTANTLY TRYING TO MAKE UP FOR THEM AND DO WELL. WHO HAD MEPAD AS THE ONE PERSON WILLING TO BELIEVE THEY WERE MORE THAN THOSE MISTAKES??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I am #1 toico supporter in any dynamic they can be platonic romantic anywhere in between and i love them

OUGH AUGH GAH MEPAD BEING THE SUPPORTIVE KING HE IS. HE IS SO SO PROUD OF ALL OF THEM. *gently taps mepad because I would NEVER slap him* this bad boy can fit so much love inside him. Guh I'm so sorry most of this is just me gushing over what you've said rather than giving an actual response.

Oh yeah he would absolutely be the mediator for them. He's an excellent mediator anyways, and for Taco and Mic he'd have such a solid understand of both of them he'd really be able to help them work it out. Toilet tried once when Mepad was taking a well-deserved Me-day and. Well nothing actually got resolved but it did dissolve into chaos that left them all laughing so hard that Taco and Mic forgot what they were upset about. Thank you, Toilet <3.

[sentientcave]

Let's Riot!

When the Reader St arena gets bought out from under them by Morgan’s vengeful ex, Pippa Graves, The Reader St Riots suddenly find themselves without a practice space. Pippa may say she’ll play nice, but Morgan knows that she’ll either have to get back under Pippa’s manicured thumb or the whole team will be out on their ass in no time. Problem is, the only other practice space around that’s not booked up to the tits belongs to Jo Price, captain of the Femme41, and well… Morgan has a bit of ugly history with her too.

Still, Jo’s at least a little more reasonable than Pippa, and Morgan may hate to beg, but she’d hate to see the Riots disbanded more. And well, maybe there’s room for a little cooperation, especially when their teams get along so well.

Contains: Lesbians! Almost everyone is a woman (Alex is NB and there are like. A few men mentioned.) and most of them are gay, OCs: Readers and OCs from a bunch of my projects and also Bambi and Bricks who belong to the esteemed @dragonnarrative-writes , Roller Derby!, complicated dating histories, this is just a fun little palette cleanser because I got sad working on one of my other projects lmao, alcohol consumption, cannabis consumption

~3k - 18+ MDNI

“Frank, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Come on, sweetheart, calm down—”

“I am calm!” Morgan snapped.

Chelsea quickly put an arm in front of Morgan and dragged her back a step. Calling Morgan sweetheart was a great shortcut to her blowing her top. “You are definitely not calm.” She looked back at Frank. He stood between them and the doors to the arena, a short, balding man that looked a bit sweaty and nervous in the low light. “You couldn’t give us any notice?”

“Look, I’ll return your deposits for the month—”

“That’s not the issue!” Morgan's brown eyes flashed with fury, her jaw tight, like she wanted to bite the man, which would be distinctly unhelpful.

Chelsea dragged her back another step. “It is a little the issue. What happened? We’ve never had any trouble, we’ve always paid on time, there’s no reason why you’d drop us like this.”

“New owners,” he said weakly. “I’m sorry, they cancelled everyone. You were just at the bottom of the call list, and you got here before I could.”

“New owners! Since when was it for sale?”

“Hell if I know. They don’t tell me shit either. All I know is that Gerry came in here with some blond bi—" He thought twice about his wording, giving Morgan another nervous glance. "--Woman and she’s the boss now.”

Morgan walked in a tight circle, looking up at the sky, hands on her hips. This wasn’t happening. It didn’t have to be her. Maybe it was some other blond woman with money to burn. “Fuck.”

The doors behind Frank opened. “Oh, hey sugar,” a too-familiar voice rang out, southern accent distinctive. “Fancy meetin' you here.”

Morgan turned around sharply. “Pippa.”

Chelsea groaned. “Oh here we go.”

“Go back to your office, Frank. I think I’ve got this from here.” Phillipa Graves patted Frank on the shoulder and walked past him. “Morgan, I’ve missed you. You never return my calls anymore.”

“Is that what this is about?” Morgan shifted her grip on her bag, glancing toward the parking lot. Bricks and Doll were lingering at the edge, talking to each other and looking back with worried expressions. They knew the history between Morgan and Pippa well enough to be wary of what might happen next. “You’re gonna steal our practice space because I won’t call you back?”

“Aw, honey, don’t be like that. We’re all big girls. I figure we can learn to share. Why don’t you join us tonight? And early next week we can grab dinner and make a new schedule. I’m sure there’s a way to make sure we’re all… satisfied.” Pippa twisted one of Morgan’s curls around her finger, leaning in close. Even ready for practice, she looked perfect as always, more like she was about to model for a roller skate advertisement than actually practice. Sleek blonde hair swept back in a low braid, a tight pink tank top, leggings that clung to her thighs, pads on, skates off, preparation interrupted by all the fuss she was certainly expecting.

“I’m the one that does the scheduling, usually,” Chelsea interjected. “Maybe it’s us that should get dinner.”

“If you like,” Pippa said smoothly, barely sparing Chelsea a glance. “The more the merrier, of course. Though I do have some personal business to talk over with Morgan too. Suppose it can wait.” She tapped Morgan under the chin with her first knuckle. “Come on, sugar, practice with us. We’re not so bad. And you’re all already here, ain’t you?”

“We’ll have to talk it over.”

“Course. Y’all come on in when you’re done talkin’.” Pippa winked at Morgan and sauntered back inside.

Chelsea sighed, elbowing Morgan as they walked over to the others. The rest of the team had gathered around Bricks, her height marked among the group of shorter women. “You’re gonna have to sleep with her.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “I’d really rather not.”

“She’s not going to be reasonable,” Billie pointed out. “She’s pure evil. She’s the head of the PTA at Ellie’s school, and she runs that shit like the navy. She’s gonna bend us over a barrel to get what she wants.”

“Have you ever tried not having antagonistic relationships with your exes?” Bricks asked. “Because that’s what I do, and no one has bought a whole arena just to fuck with me.”

“Yet,” Doll said reassuringly. “It could still happen.”

“The whole team is awful,” Bambi said. “One of them works in my office, and she’s a real— Well, I don’t like her.”

“Harsh words, DB.” Bricks propped her hands on her hips. “We can suck it up for one night, a free practice is a free practice. And if you have to flutter your eyelashes at her the whole time, you’re gonna do it.” She pointed at Morgan accusingly. “This is your fault.”

“It is not!”

“It is,” Chelsea said solemnly, fixing her pink bun from on top of her head to low on the nape of her neck to fit under her helmet. “Pussy game is clearly too strong. Maybe try being a worse fuck.”

“She can’t.” Bricks gently turned Morgan around so that she was facing the doors, and nudged her forward a step. “She doesn’t know how.”

Chelsea turned fully toward the others, walking backward. “Alright, drills only, we’re not going to let them goad us into a scrimmage, they’re gonna play dirty as hell with no refs, and we can’t afford an injury this close to a game. Keep it loose, and if anyone hassles you, come to me, or come to Bricks. Do not tell Morgan or she’s gonna punch someone and we’re gonna lose our space for good.”

“I’m not!”

Bricks laughed and caught Chelsea’s arm, spinning her before she hit the edge of the door. “Yes you are, Morgan. Stay on your best behaviour. Maybe even try being charming.”

Bunny nudged Dancer, grinning. “If you’d joined up last year, like I told you to, you could have been here for the whole explosion. It was great.”

“Great?” Billie asked, raising her eyebrows. “Were we watching the same breakup?”

Bricks glanced over her shoulder warningly. “Save it for drinks, ladies, or Morgan’s gonna make us skate line drills till we drop.”

They dropped their bags along the benches and geared up, watching the Shadows zip around the track. The Shadows were mean, not just on the track, but off too, in that sugar sweet way that left you wondering if you were just reading into it. They were a pretty well-rounded team, and coordinated, thanks to Pippa. She did nothing in half-measures. It seemed impossible that she’d be able to raise children, run school events, coach a junior team as well as an adult one, somehow have a job on top, and still have time to run around keeping two relationships secret from each other for nearly eight months, but Pippa was the kind of woman who really could have it all.

The Riots were… A good team. Pippa had poached two of their players during the breakup drama, and Pepper had moved back home to take care of her grandmother, and they were still trying to get back to where they had been a year ago. Kitten Caboodle and Break Dancer were pretty solid for fresh meat, but with a small team and only four of them with more than a few years experience, it was rough going out there. Hard not to get demoralized when Kortac had beaten them 240 to 60 during their last game. No one’s fault really— Bunny and Sweetpea had been out sick and neither Kitty or Dancer were prepared to jam more than a few rounds with players that rough. They’d gotten shaken, so Morgan and Billie had done most of the jams. Nobody and Freddie Kruger had just torn right through their weakened pack while Morgan and Bill tried to wrestle their way past Queenie.

Once Dancer and Kitty got more confident, they’d be hard to catch. Kitty was tiny, and Dancer was agile, but they both needed more time. Doll and Bambi, who had joined a little over a year ago had turned out to be a highly effective set of blockers— Small, but sturdy and hard to knock down. When they were out on the track with Bricks or Chelsea, they were nigh impossible to get past, which would leave their fourth blocker free to assist the jammer, in an ideal world.

The ideal world simply had five more players in it. Maybe more, since no one but Morgan and Bricks made it to every game.

Later on, worn out and sweaty from practice, crammed into the biggest booth at a diner that was roughly equidistant between everyone’s homes and the arena (and the young man that worked the fryers had a massive crush on Sweetpea, which meant everyone got more fries), they debriefed.

“That’s gonna be tricky for me to stomach long term,” Morgan admitted. “I’m gonna sleep with Pip if I have to be too nice.”

“You don’t actually have to sleep with her, you know,” Bricks said.

“No… I’m gonna.”

“We can find somewhere else,” Billie suggested. “I don’t want Morgan and Pip to get back together, it was so annoying when they were. All in favour of Morgan not fucking Pippa, say aye.” She raised her hand to note the measure.

“Aye,” they intoned together, all raising their hands as well.

“Simone says the Femme41 practice out of Jo’s warehouse now. Pippa did the same thing to them eight months ago. I bet they’d let us skate there.” Bricks tossed another fry into her mouth. “If someone behaves herself.”

Morgan scoffed. “It’s impossible for me to date another one of her girlfriends, her relationships hardly last the weekends now.”

Bunny mouthed the word Pippa at Kitty and Dancer.

“Then you won’t have a problem asking her,” Chelsea said. “Maybe bake her something nice as an overture. A pie or something. You make good pies.”

Morgan winced. “We have a game against them this weekend. We could ask her all together.”

Billie shook her head. “No, this one’s on you. Captain to captain conversation. You have Chelsea’s schedule key, you can negotiate for a time that works.”

“And if she says no? She hates my guts.”

“Wear something low cut and bake her a pie,” Bricks suggested. “Maybe just go wearing nothing but an apron.”

“I’ve got one that says Born To Be A Lesbian Housewife,” Doll said. “You can borrow it. It’s very frilly.”

Bambi giggled. “I’ve got one that says Vagitarian.”

Doll laughed too, knocking her head against Bambi’s shoulder. “That’s way better, Morgan, borrow that one.”

"I'm not going to-- Did you people hear me when I said she hates my guts?"

"She still has eyes, Morgan," Bricks said. "And you have nice tits."

"If you don't sort this out, we might have to disband to other teams. And I don't want to. I like you guys." Chelsea looped an arm around Kitty. "We started this team because we wanted to get together and have fun and challenge ourselves without it getting so damn competitive or mean. Bill and I are not going back to the Shadows, and there's no way Bricks wants to go back to Kortac. So put on your big girl panties and a cute dress, and charm Jo into sharing the warehouse with us. Got it?"

"Got it." Morgan sank back into her seat with a groan. I'll talk to her after work tomorrow."

"Good," Billie said, a note of finality in her voice. "Now, did anyone else watch Game of Dragons last night? I have opinions."

By the time Morgan got home, walked Laika, showered, ate cold leftovers out of the fridge and stepped out on her balcony with a joint, it was well past dark, and she was bone tired. Jo was out on her own balcony, feet up, smoking a cigar. She was a thick, barrel chested woman, wearing a tank top and jeans, cigar in one hand, glass of whiskey in the other. Her hair was longer than usual, tucked behind her ears, like she'd been growing it out. It had been a while since Morgan saw her without a hat on.

They acknowledged each other with a curt nod, and Morgan settled into her swing chair, tucking her feet up underneath her. Laika went to the railing to give Jo the biggest, saddest eyes she could.

Jo maybe didn't like Morgan much, but it was hard not to like Laika. The big goofy rottweiler loved almost everyone, and knew exactly how to get what she wanted (big sad eyes, a few pathetic whines, a raised paw, if need be). It was only a minute before Jo was up and leaning over the railing to give Laika a pet.

Usually they didn't speak. The smallest things seemed to spark up into fights between them, and Morgan found it was easier just to keep their interactions to a minimum.

So it was a surprise when Jo spoke first. "Rough night?"

"Yeah. You could say that."

"Want to talk about it?"

“Thank you for pretending to care, but not really.” She grimaced. It really was the perfect opportunity to ask, but it was hard to shake the habit of brushing Jo off.

Jo snorted. “You know, I really preferred fightin’ to this cold shoulder treatment.”

“That’s because you’re a disagreeable sort of woman.”

“That’s the spirit, pet. But you can do better than that. C’mere.”

Morgan glared at her. “No. I’m good where I am actually.” She looked the other way, puffing on the joint. She could ask tomorrow. She wasn’t in a mood to deal with anyone else tonight. Having to smile and play nice with Pippa had been bad enough. She needed a good sleep before she could even pretend to be friendly to anyone else.

She startled when Jo’s thick fingers plucked the joint out of her hand. “Hey! I didn’t invite you over here.”

“Your weed’s better than mine.”

“Probably because I grow it myself. What do you want?”

Jo sat down on the solid little coffee table in front of Morgan, holding her cigar and whiskey glass in one hand. She leaned forward, glass resting lightly on her knee, bleeding condensation into the denim. Mixed drink, then, not straight whiskey. Jo drank the better stuff neat. “Pip called me today.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jo hummed, offering the joint back, blue eyes stern. “Don’t be coy, if you’re fuckin’ her again I’d rather know than get blindsided bumpin’ into her in the hallway.”

“Did she tell you we were?”

Jo’s jaw clenched tight. “She said she was lookin’ forward to seein’ you tonight.”

“Well I’m sure it was super nice for her. She bought my team’s arena. I am gonna have to start fucking her if I want to keep our usual practice slots. She made that… Well about as clear as she ever makes anything.” Morgan handed the joint over again. “So not very, but I still got the gist of it.” She scrunched up Laika’s ears, humming. Laika’s tail solidly thumped against Jo’s shin, bridging the space between them.

“Extortionist,” Jo scoffed.

“Yeah. Pretty much. Bricks said you might take pity on us if I asked nicely. I know you practice out of your warehouse.” Morgan lifted her eyes back up to Jo’s face.

“Is this you askin’ nicely?” Jo leaned forward slightly, her soft stomach spilling over her belt a bit, biceps flexing as she leaned more weight on her arms. “You can do better than that. Not so much as a please.”

“It was not me asking nicely. I had no intention of talking to you until tomorrow, and I’m still not asking until I’ve had at least four hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Surprised you’d come to me.”

Morgan looked away first, just like she always did. Jo had an intensity to her that was hard to match, blue eyes drilling into her own like she was looking for faults she could use to crack her open entirely. It was much easier to study the freckles on the top of her shoulder, just above the pinup girl sitting on the curve of a crescent moon that looked rather a lot like her ex wife, Sadie. “I wouldn’t if I had literally any other option. But I have to admit that you are slightly more tolerable than Pippa. Even if you do park half in my spot and fuck squealing college girls at all hours of the night.”

“You don’t need the space. You have a bike.”

“So that gives you the right to park your big-dick pickup truck wherever you please?”

“Sure does, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart! We have one conversation that doesn’t make me want to punch you, and you have to ruin it.”

She grinned, shifting back again. “Not being very nice to someone you want to ask a favour from.”

“I’m not asking the favour until tomorrow. I’m too grumpy to be nice tonight. You invited yourself over and plopped yourself down in front of me and started smoking my weed.” This was not helpful. Why did Jo always manage to get her this worked up? She drew in a centring breath. “No, you’re right, I should be nicer.”

"I did bogart your joint," Jo conceded. "That's on me." Rather than hand it back, she took a long drag, the cherry burning bright all the way down to the folded cardboard filter, and dropped the remains in the ashtray. She leaned forward again, cupping the back of Morgan's neck with a strong hand, and blew smoke directly into Morgan's face. She grinned wickedly when Morgan spluttered a bit. "What's wrong, pet? Thought you wanted me to share better."

"Maybe I am better off negotiating with Pippa," Morgan grumbled, swatting Jo's hand away.

"Hm. Maybe. Why don't you think about how you'll ask me about practice space tomorrow, and I'll get out of your hair." Jo stood up, gave Laika another pat, and climbed back over to her side of the balcony without another word.

Morgan ushered Laika inside, fuming again, and furiously got ready for bed.

She was sure of one thing; Jo Price was going to make a truce between them nigh impossible.

Title card made on Canva - Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 (Stickers are Canva assets) Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴄʜ. 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The problem? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, talks of nightmares, eating and food, mentions of Bucky not doing so well, mentions of Bucky's trauma in general, and Bucky is probably written wrong. (Trying my best lmao)

A/n: Hi! So sorry that this came out later than expected, life is kinda kicking my ass right now. This chapter’s shorter than usual, but I wanted to at least put something out. I hope you enjoy!

||Part 4|| Part 5 || Part 6 (Coming soon!)

[Series Masterlist]

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

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒆

🄳🄰🅈 3

You slept in the next morning, and Bucky didn't have the heart to wake you. Well, he did, but he felt bad for last night. He knew you were right. God, he knew. He regretted it. It was a stupid argument to even get into in the first place.

The two of you had a habit of getting into stupid arguments. Over little things, like you sitting in the chair he always sat in at the dinner table, or him eating the snack you were waiting to eat. Sometimes it was over bigger things, like who fucked up the mission, or who's fault something was.

He couldn't even remember half of them. He just remembered that he'd had them with you, and that you pissed him off. A lot. But even just for three short minutes last night, he thought otherwise.

"Who gives a shit?" Your voice echoed through his brain, and it felt like every other thought he could hear you again. As he got ready for the day, he heard it over and over again.

When you woke up, he waited patiently for you to pack up your things and get ready. Once you did, he took down both of the room keys as you loaded the truck. He let you drive this time, thinking that it was only fair.

“Remember when you first came to the tower?" You asked, eyes never leaving the road.

Bucky did remember. He remembered it clearly. He remembered Steve's reassurance every five seconds, he remembered the fear. He remembered staying holed up in his standard Compound bedroom. Nothing unique or special, no extra decorations. Cold and unwelcoming. He'd slept on the floor. He deserved it, he knew. The bed made him feel like he was sinking, anyway. Beds always made him feel like that. Even now.

He gave a simple nod as you continued.

"How long had it been? Since..HYDRA?"

"Two years." He'd been getting better, during those years. Kind of. He learned to make decisions again. He figured out an easy way to live. He didn't have very many memories back then. Newer, more recent HYDRA stuff. But then the whole Zemo thing happened, and it had basically reset the entire process. And then the memories hit. He knew for a fact that he didn't have them all, and he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted them.

You nodded in the driver's seat.

The car drive felt long. There wasn't much talking, which meant Bucky was left alone with his thoughts.

He remembered what it felt like, after Zemo had triggered the Winter Soldier. His mind was so used to operating knowing that those times had passed that once he was back, when he was Bucky again, his brain seemed stuck in that mindset.

Steve hated it when he said it that way. "You were always Bucky. You've always been Bucky. You're not a machine, Buck," he'd say.

He'd isolated himself from the team, terrified both of them and for them. He couldn't prove to himself that he wasn't some kind of monster, he couldn't prove that he wasn't a danger to the team.

Steve had treated him like he was made of glass, always being cautious and quiet and polite. Steve had introduced him to the others, who either quietly avoided him or pretended like he didn't exist past a simple 'hello'. Bucky didn't mind.

But you weren't like that. You treated him like he was just another guy, arguing and bickering with him. Sometimes he'd leave annoyed, other times he was glad that you didn't treat him like a glass vase.

Bucky didn’t mind that either.

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

You said nothing as you checked into two motel rooms. You couldn't get conjoined ones, so Bucky was just across the hall. The drive had been quiet. It was different, but a somewhat good kind of different. You hadn't argued, or bickered. You listened to your favorite playlist, and Bucky sat quietly.

Sleep came easily that night. You wondered if it was the same for Bucky.

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

🄳🄰🅈 4

It was not the same for Bucky. He'd been up half of the night trying to fall asleep. He hated nights like these. He had them quite often. Sure, they were annoying as hell, but he'd take them over a nightmare any day.

It was day four of the trip. That meant thirteen days left, and then the two of you didn't have to share a truck ever again.

“Let’s play a game. Or something.” You suggested. You were driving again, because you’d made it to the left side of the truck first.

“Like what?” Bucky questioned.

“Ever played twenty questions?”

Bucky shook his head. He hadn’t.

“The way Kate and I play it is that you just take turns asking questions until twenty questions have been asked. You can’t lie and you have to answer it no matter what.” You explained. Bucky nodded. It seemed simple enough.

“Okay. I’ll go first.” You decided. “Hm..are you left handed or right handed?”

This was an easy question. “I’m right-handed.” Bucky answered.

“That’s one question. Now it’s your turn.”

Bucky couldn’t think of a question. There were so many things he could ask, but he wasn’t sure what qualified as a good question. He could ask your favorite color, but would that be too basic? He could ask where you would want to live if you weren’t an Avenger, but would that be too personal?

“C’mon, it’s easy. First thing off the top of your head.” You encouraged.

“How did you meet Kate?” He decided on an easier question, at least to start the game.

“When Clint brought her to the Compound. She made a Shrek joke, and then it just kinda happened.” You explained. Bucky had no idea what a ‘Shrek’ was, but he just went along with it.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Before the war, before HYDRA, Bucky would’ve said blue. Sergeant James B. Barnes would’ve said blue. Blue like the sky on a sunny day, blue like the ocean on a tropical island far away. Blue like Steve’s eyes, blue like his sister’s favorite and nicest dress.

He still is that Bucky. Just..different, now.

“Pink.” He answered simply.

“Pink?” The way you echoed it wasn’t mocking, nor disbelieving. Bucky didn’t really know what it meant.

“Pink.” He nodded. Pink like the sweatshirts in the men’s section in stores, pink like the sky when the sun’s setting. Pink like Natasha’s old ballet outfit from the time where he trained Widows in the Red Room. There was no pink in HYDRA. He was sure of that.

The game continued, but parts of Bucky’s mind lingered on the subject. He had a favorite color. He was free enough and in control to have a favorite of something. And his favorite color was pink.

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

(My apologies if your blog couldn't be tagged- I have no idea why it won't work.)

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @laughterafter @cjand10 @kandis-mom @emmsybucky @mrsnotfeelingsogood @matchat3a @identity2212

[starsofang]

cod characters as detroit become human characters

soap as connor

- extremely skilled at what he does

- makes sarcastic/snarky comments towards people he doesn’t particularly like/trust, but can be very serious and sharp when doing a job/interrogation

- dedicated to his work, hence why he’s so good at it

- gets along with essentially everybody, but people end up letting him down/turning on him ): graves

- soap was the youngest to pass the sas selection, and connor was the first android to be created for police work :p

- very smart and knowledgeable, literally know SO much about everything, especially their jobs

- both rays of sunshines

ghost as luther

- it was hard picking who ghost would be, and at first i said hank. they’re both lieutenants, have lots of trauma ): and liked working alone until their partners came along

- but i also think he’s a lot like luther

- first off, big boys

- reserved personalities that make them appear off putting and cold at first, but once you realize that’s not all they are, they’re very kind people who just happen to be intimidating

- luther is very protective of his ‘family’, ghost is protective of 141, he’d very much die for them and kill for them

- history of abuse and mistreatment, they come from bad backgrounds that created who they are today

- gentle giants. i don’t like the trope that ghost is scary and mean, because he’s not outside of missions. in dbh, luther was made out to be the same way when all he wanted to do was protect kara and do his duty of being a guardian, and i feel ghost is very similar

gaz as markus

- natural born leader

- gaz is very selfless and wants better for the world, the same as markus

- well spoken and executes their voices very well

- extremely strong willed while also knowing how to keep their temper in check, they know how to do their job and do it well

- does what they have to do in order to guarantee the best outcome, even if it’s not always what they want to do

- they’re also very pretty to look at lmao

price as hank

- at first this didn’t really fit in my mind, but after some thinking, i think they’re pretty similar!

- both of ranking in their respective jobs

- experts at what they do, have been doing it for a long time and know how to lead their men in the ways they know best

- hank is a bit more of a grump than price is, but when they’re both angry (ex. price literally any time shepherd is around), they bring hell to whoever they’re angry at and don’t have the nicest things to say

- the world on their shoulders, they just need a nap man

- hank doesn’t show it as much, but they both have a lot of care in their hearts, especially for the people they work with and they’d do anything for them

- love their liquor after a job lmao

farah as kara

- selfless women who have been through so much

- both deserve better

- but because they’ve been through a lot, they’ve become strong both physically and mentally and use that trauma to their advantage

- will do anything to protect the ones they love, even if it means hurting themselves in the process

- farah is such a soft spoken person with high maturity and intelligence in the way she conveys her words, just like kara

- i literally love them to death, best characters in their respective games ):

graves as elijah

- can be manipulative as fuck lmao

- when they have an end goal for themselves, they do anything to achieve it, even if it means taking others down with them

- both can be perceived as complex characters that have good intentions and good moments, but also know that the reality is they’re rather selfish people who make decisions for themselves

- even the way they talk is similar at times !!

- many people who don’t truly know elijah trust him, just like graves, but only the people who they’ve hurt know the real side of them

- many people like them, while many people don’t, that’s how conflicting their characters are and it’s hard to pick a side

shepherd as amanda

- literally hate them both

- but really, they’re great characters that bring so much to the story and the way it progresses

- has lots of impact on the way the characters navigate themselves. amanda controls connor, while shepherd controls graves. it’s a very similar concept imo

- lots of knowledge and wisdom but uses it to manipulate things the way they want

- betray the very people they’re working with and supposed to guide, for their own selfish reasons

- both dead, technically lmao

replaying dbh for the sixth time and i was like !!! this might be a fun concept. to some it may not be entirely accurate, but i thought it was fun to dissect all the characters and see who fits who the most, and this is the way i see everybody 🙏🏻

[afanofmanyth1ngs]

Yellowjackets/IWTV Fanfic

So, about a week ago I put out a poll about doing a weird IWTV fanfic that's basically set in the Yellowjackets verse... And now I'm doing it... YAY!! but I do just want to come on here to basically throw around some things I'm going to do :P So this is going to be where I update people and just basically talk about how I'm going to do this, what my schedule is going to look like, things I need opinions on. This is more so a motivation thing so IF YOU ARE INTERESTED, please please please comment and follow along. I lose motivation quickly, but this is something I'm pretty dedicated to. but either way THIS IS HAPPENING.

______________________________________________________________

First things first. YES I have started working on it. Im not even close to finished with the first chapter because each chapter is going to be LONG. This is not going to be everything that happens in Yellowjackets happens in here, and not even close. Even as I started it... I will sometimes use direct quotes, but thats only if im stuck and cant figure out what im doing.

NEXT as I said this is not going to be yellowjackets word for word, but I will be using each episode as a starting point. scenes might mirror each other, and I will cut between scenes as they do in the show.

Some things that are automatically going to be different from Yellowjackets:

They will not be on a Sports team of any sorts. The one thing each character has in common, is that they all are passionate about one or more forms of art (ex: Louis: Photography - Lestat: Acting - Madeleine - Sewing and dress making and altering (not the right words sorry lol)) SO im having them go to an art school :P little bit of a long shot but not only is it just convinent for me because of all the art forms they like, but also I think it would be kind of cool for just normal (LMAO) IWTV kids who have never touched a sport in their lives to now have to like hunt and stuff... kind of Lord of the Flies with half of the kids being CHOIR KIDS core.

Theyre all gonna be in High school. i was like well im not aging them up cause what fun would that be, so lets just age them down and keep a whole bunch of that trauma and see what happens... and im not super far into the writing process but its working rn!!

Theyre crashing in the Alps. I have zero knowlege of the Alps whatso ever BUT i know i went over them when i flew to Italy so Im having them go to the Uffizi Galleries!!! and then BAM Alps. so get ready for some major inaccuratcies about that cause im gonna make them how they are in Yellowjackets... just in like Italy. Maybe I'll reasearch a bit more... dw about it its ok :D

As I said before each chapter is going to be LONG. so rn I have around 4ish scenes (ones not finished yet) and by the time I'm finished with those and edit it's going to be close to around 4,000 words I'm estimating... that's 4,000 words for not even a quarter of THE KIDS STORY LINE. on that topic, because each chapter is going to be so incredibly long, I've decided to split each chapter in about half. I was originally planning to do one chapter = one episode of yellowjackets but again it's going to be WAY too long, so kids' storyline, adult story line. I like that a lot too because a big pet peeve of mine is in stories where it keeps switching through times and then i get so lost and have to reread like 10 times to understand... LIKE PLEASE JUST SPLIT IT INTO A FEW CHAPTERS SO IM NOT CONFUSED

Last thing! Most of each character's backstory IS WORKED IN... so for example (A HUGE example) is for at least the first few chapters Armand will be called and referred to as Amadeo. Marius is his adoptive father who rescued him from some sex trafficking scandal or something and renamed him, before he eventually changes his name to Armand while out in the mountains. So, like obviously he's not going to get the name Armand from Santino, but you know... working in what I can :P

OK ACTUALLY LAST LAST THING: I don't know when this will come out... I have a deadline for myself and I'm certain I will get to it, HOWEVER I do not have access to the other Yellowjackets episodes, which is pretty crucial if I want to get into a schedule of posting each week regularly. As of right now I am hoping to get the first chapter out on October 3rd... Yellowjackets will be accessible to me AND then I'll be able to post a chapter on Halloween... YAY!! if that does not work out because the following chapters are taking too long and I release before I can make sure the Schedule is set, it will most likely be one of the Thursdays in October because I REALLY want to get one out on Halloween!!

OK!! hope you guys liked my little rant!! I'll keep everyone who's interested updated on here so if you want to be in the loop follow me (or don't! if you don't you can just check my page!) and again comments motivate me, so if you have any questions or just think it's a cool idea let me know!

[ilovechubbieguys]

hiii omg just found your account, so happy to see more tgc fanfiction ((ive read every single one of them at this point 😭)) soo could i request some nick/yumi fluff or smut? thank yououou 🦭

Omg same man i made this because i read them all so i might as well make my own lmao! Very happy to do one for yumi and nick!! (First smut sorry if its a little off lol) 🦭

Nick & yumi fluff/smut hcn!

-smut and fluff for each, gn! Reader. Use of f! Body parts. White=fluff red=smut

-----------------------♧♤------------------------

Nick

♧- love language is definitely quality time ex: just sitting and watching tv or going to the mall

♧- baby, love, and babe user for sure

♧- loves loves loves to hold your hand and in the car when he drives (which is almost always) he always has a hand on your thigh

♧- so sweet and caring. Very good listener and always listens to you rant about your day or any thing that ever slightly upset you

♧- if your a hyoer person he keeps you from doing dumb crap that youll regret later

♧- if your a calm person theres alot of cuddling he always wants to be big spoon

♧- about 5 months into your relationship he made a song for you and it was the cutest thing ever

♧- i feel like if your on a late night drive with him on an empty road he likes to speed just for the fun of it

♧- rolls down the windows and lets you stick your hand out while he speeds down an empty highway

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

♧- 6in and gurthy

♧- totally a service dom "i know baby" "your taking me so good baby"

♧- some days its slow "i missed you so much" thrusts with kisses all over your body

♧- other days its fast and rough "ive needed this all day" thrusts with hickeys and bite marks all over

♧- hes normally pretty soft and slow but if you decide to be a tease that day hes now holding back "fuck.. you just couldnt fuckin..wait could you..huh?"

♧- doggy style because he loves to see you bent over for him

♧- and missionary because he loves to be able to see your face and have access to every inch of you

♧- he secretly loves when you sneak under his desk while hes playing siege or cod and help him out

♧- " yumi i got a guy on m-me.." "you good man?" "Ya im good sorry i think i gonna get off i dont feel the best" "alr man get better"

♧- prepare to not be able to walk for alteast 2 weeks for that

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

Yumi

♤- late night smoke sessions are a common thing. You guys just talk about everything and anything or you enjog echother presence in silence

♤- Dance was made about you 😧

♤- babe kinda guy change my mind, baby when hes tired or comforting you

♤- loves sleeping in with you, when you try and either get up or get him up he pulls you back in "5 more minutes.."

♤- 5 minutes normally turms into atleast another hour

♤- convinced you to join LTLVC to motivate him to stay in or incase another pc incident happened

♤- loves when you watch him play video games or making a video

♤- his favorite thing is when you lay on his chest while he scrolls threw tiktok or insta

♤- if you guys where together when he made Lost he would always want you with him at the recording studio

♤- constantly asking what you thought

♤- they type of guy to always have his arm around your waist. Especially likes to come behind you and wrap his arms around you and kiss your cheek

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

♤- 7 in and curved

♤- pretty vanilla guy, but for a little lets pretend he's not as vanilla as he is 😮‍💨(still love you, man)

♤- riding and spooning are his fav positions for sure

♤- not very vocal, but a lot of grunting

♤- giving and receiving head is godly to him

♤- "fuck.." "god." "Your so fucking pretty"

♤- high sex goes crazy with him. He's still smoking a blunt while you ride him every now and then, taking a hit yourself

♤- holds you pretty rough if you're riding him, normally rutting his own hips into you, especially if you're close

♤- eats you out till your heavy breathing, tears are running down your face, you can't form real sentences, till your legs are shaking

♤- oh u need him now? Ur alreadt bent over the nearest counter, in the car? Why not. In the shower? Done. At the mall? Family bathroom it is.

♤- uses the fact hes alot bigger then you to him advantage, manhandling, and holding your hands down

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

For my first smut, i think it's ok lmao. Lmk what yall, though, what i should improve and change. Thanks for requesting! :3

[doberbutts]

it's very funny to me that exactly 2 people I follow are posting a lot about BG3 and one of them hates Astarion and loves Gale, and the other (you) hates Gale and loves Astarion. Opposite polarities, I love it

I don't hate him hate him I just think he's very uninteresting and the vibes are bad. The most interesting he's been was when his bestie told him his ex said "kill yourself now [but point it at the Big Brain]" which like. That JUST happened right before I started Act 2 so I'm waiting to see if he continues to be at least mildly interesting or if I can officially say my game did not change for not using Gale like at all and I could have left him in the portal with zero overarching consequences.

And see that's kind of my problem with him. Panic's big into theology so he struck an almost instant friendship with Shadowheart, who has been following him around a bit like a smitten puppy ever since he saved her from the pod, because they got onto the discussion of gods and Shart was happy to discuss her faith once she knew she wouldn't be judged for it.

But when Panic tried the same tactic with Gale it was "yeah I fucked the divine embodiment of magic" "oh okay, good for you I guess? Can you tell me anything else about her?" "The sex was great BTW and I am a very good lover" "that's... nice... but not what I meant" "I could show you if you want" "oh, no, no thank you, actually I just wanted to have friendly conversation" *pop-up in the corner Gale disapproves*

Unfortunately that's how many of our conversations have gone which leads Panic to avoid Gale because he's more persistent about it than Lae'zel (who ironically is both more aggressive in her come ons and yet also stopped when Panic put his foot down about respecting boundaries) and he was already put off Lae'zel for similar behavior.

But he's like. Hmm. Nice Guy (tm) persistent about it which gives ME bad vibes because most Nice Guys (tm) are not actually decent people. And I have no way of knowing if that similarity I see in Gale is telling me that he also is that way, or if it's just an unfortunate coincidence, so I as the player am equally put off by this guy who seems to be coming onto Panic with every conversation and gets mad when Panic uncomfortably extracts himself from said conversation.

Anyway I referenced this post before but I saw a post that said you can find a hundred Astarions on grindr and you can find a hundred Gales in silicone valley and I would 100% agree with both character assessments even though the post meant it disparagingly. The difference is I'm attracted to the Astarions on grindr but can't stand the Gales in silicone valley lmao

[majimasleftasscheek]

I was wondering if you had any nsfw headcanons re: tigerfish? mostly asking cause i was thinking about the idea of nishiki doing his little hair-slick-back thing whenever he’s feeling Spicy (more dominant, regardless of position) so if/when he does that when they’re making out or whatever saejima knows what’s coming hehe

hope this isn’t too uncomfy to ask or anything! thanks for making me a fan of this tiny little ship lmao <3

not uncomfy at all! I'm always happy to talk about nsfw 😏

*as usual, even tho I talk about em as cis dudes, yall are welcome to imagine them however 😌

so prolly an uncommon take but Saejima's always sorta sat on the ace spectrum for me personally like he's into people but not in a way that's like something he'd go out and seek nor really need to be happy. not into being touchy feely with people he's just met and needs a bit of emotional bonding to let that happen *insert some joke about him making everyone he meets his kyoudai lol*. so when it comes to Nishiki, he feels a lot more comfy being openly intimate since they've gotten plenty of time to know each other in jail. Nishiki on the other hand, gives me casual guy™ vibes so he's into slapping the salmon whenever however but not in a wildin' type of way. he's into trying new things but also enjoys comfortable patterns that don't necessarily have to change anything up.

so when they're first shooting the shit about getting their freak on, I can see Nishiki being kinda surprised at first by Saejima's preferences but totally gets it too. he's used to Kiryu being a loner type who isn't exactly going out of his way for the ultimate boner experience. where they differ tho is Saejima is experienced while Kiryu just sorta bumbles through it. Saejima on the other hand, sees Nishiki who was a prominent crime boss and conventionally very pretty so he's thinking oh yeah Nishiki's prolly some kind of sex pest but is pleasantly surprised when Nishiki's more than considerate and patient.

now, Nishiki's been with people of all sorts so he knows his shit while Saejima is more like yeah I know my stuff but I ain't into it enough to really know if I'm performing up to the standards for my partner. he has a good bit of anxiety about that sorta thing and Nishiki didn't really believe him at first cuz like, just look at him. Saejima doesn't look like he'd have anxieties about anything so that's a hurdle they'd have to cross. Nishiki ends up being the lead in most cases, if anything to show the types of things he likes and to give Saejima confidence that he's doing a good job.

when Nishiki leads, he's either topping or power bottoming which defo pumps up the fish ego. but when tiger tops, it's more of a service top thing - he wants to see Nishiki pass the FUCK out lol. he wants to see toes CURL, he wants that ex patriarch to BEG for more. it makes him happy, knowing he can bring Nishiki down a peg for all the pride he's got in him. for Nishiki, it's a nice balance of leaving the work to Saejima while still being in control, even more so when he's going evil mode and gets a mad kick out of having such an imposing man at his beck and call hohohehe.

Saejima's very much not horny ever so Nishiki's gotta be the one to get him in the mood which is perfectly fine for the two of em. it's part of their foreplay, lots of talking and touching and even if it doesn't pan out to anything, they still enjoy just being around each other.

when Nishiki tops he's real sweet about it, very handsy and slick, doing everything you'd expect out of a well choreographed movie tbh. it's a very ideal time and Saejima just sorta gets lost in it, unused to being treated well and gentle. he's definitely prone to being a bit more emotional during these times and not afraid to show it which shocked Nishiki for a time until he got used to it and has come to really enjoy bringing such feelings out of him.

EVIL MODE so there's occasions where Nishiki's into the rougher stuff *insert whatever your heart desires here* and it's a lil bit embarrassing for him cuz there's been occasions with past partners where it's not exactly been the most enjoyable experience for either party, due to inexperience or going too far, etc. he's a lil too eager and too aggressive for his own good, especially back then cuz he had some aha issues to work out and ended up unintentionally taking it out on others.

so insert Saejima who proposes hey let's try out whatever the hell that maybe other people couldn't handle and Nishiki's hesitant, thinking, oh nah you already have anxieties and I can't do that to you but it's in the back of his mind like I want to tho. a big component of nsfw tigerfish to me is that they have a theme of taking time to get to things with a certain gentleness unlike my kazumaji hcs where they have a very intense, impulsiveness to them. so it takes a hot minute for Nishiki to open up this more aggressive side of him that for a long time he's suppressed cuz he felt that there's no place for it even tho it's very much a part of him.

so when Nishiki does eventually start to tip toe into his more perverse kinks, Saejima gives him comfort in that nothing really shocks him about what he wants and he's more than ready to handle it physically. with Nishiki leading, it's a good time for the two of em; Saejima can be of service while Nishiki can feel freer to explore this part of himself without judgment or so much worry.

after all that, aftercare! very important. it's usually Saejima who takes care of Nishiki, wrapping him up and massaging out the jitters. sometimes, one or both of them can experience some mixed emotions from a variety of things, performance worries, trauma, etc so they spend a lotta time just talking to each other. there's a lot of reassurances but also just a lot of wanting someone to listen.

random shit

Saejima loves some good head and body worship. he knows he's got a fine bod so complimenting him is the good shit 👌

Nishiki's all about smooches whether they be deep ones or just lil pecks here and there. ever since post y1, he's been one for enjoying simpler affections, especially when he knows his partner means it.

Saejima's a handsy drunk with people he's close to, but it's all cuddles and kissing and then passing the fuck out.

as a material girl in a material world, Nishiki gets off to gift giving lol. definitely has a praise kink but you gotta be a bit careful. be too dick sucky and he starts to feel like you're just patronizing him.

both of em are into overstimulation for different reasons: Saejima likes the intenseness and Nishiki likes inflicting it (receiving it ain't so bad either). Nishiki doesn't exactly have Saejima's stamina so they got a lotta toys just for the occasion 👀 there's been many a time where Saejima gets into it more than Nishiki can handle and he's then down for the count.

Nishiki tends to keep his prosthetic arm on and doesn't particularly like bringing attention to his disfigurement in general so when he's being intimate, he wants to be treated as if his body is like anyone else's. in that way, he's not into body worship at all, as he sort of warps it into pity he doesn't want.

Nishiki's possessive - not to the same extent Majima is @ Kiryu but it's there in the sense of like, look at this guy, he's mine.

bonus monster AU stuff 👀

as a literal tiger man, Saejima's got a lot of cat characteristics including loving pets and pats. Nishiki's learned very quickly which spots are best to get Saejima riled up and fiesty ;)

that being said, he's got a spikey dick lol. the spines aren't harmful, they more or less lock his partner to him which can end up being inconvenient if they're in a hurry.

big claws = lots of big scratches all up Nishiki's back. Saejima gets nervous he's hurting him but Nishiki think it's pretty hot to be marked up.

[noisyghost]

Ooo you fed me so well, I wasn’t even sure if I would get answers! So now I’m gonna try my hand at asking who bit Ark, what happened?! This is so juicy (rubbing my gremlin hands together).

oh rest assured, I will answer any and all OC related questions with overwhelming fervor and I will not be cool about it at all <3

The person that bit Ark was Josie! She's what the girlies like to call "a hot mess" <3

im so sorry this reply is so long. I started typing and kept failing to summarize things until it was. way too many paragraphs lmao. TLDR; Ark and Mira were attempting to rescue a woman named Josie who'd basically been manipulated into servitude by a very shitty guy. Josie also happens to be a werewolf. At some point during the attempted rescue, Josie had to watch someone she cared about a lot be killed, and she immediately wolfed out and attacked everyone around her, including Ark <3

I did not proofread this after typing it and it's 1am so i'm sorry if some things dont line up correctly, im stupid :)

Josie got bit when she was 18 on a camping trip with friends and it subsequently ruined her life. She survived bc a monster hunter killed the werewolf before it killed her, but she still got bit and ended up running away from home bc the aforementioned monster hunter told her to (it was either "run away and never come back" or "im killing you right now for real") everyone in her family thinks she died except her sister, Rose, who saw it happen and - upon never finding the body - spent the next 10 or so years looking for her.

Because Josie never really had anyone to explain to her what was going on, or support her in any way, she spent a lot of time alone, and subsequently fell into some pretty dark places. She eventually finds herself stuck in a monster fighting ring bc shes been conditioned to think that this is literally all shes good for. At the very least, she makes "good friends" with another werewolf girl stuck in the same spot as her named Cleo and theyre basically the only thing keeping each other alive for the next couple years.

At some point in all this, her sister Rose manages to track her down, but worried about her and her sisters safety, gets in contact with Mira (who is functionally the lynchpin holding the entire cities supernatural community together whether anyone knows it or not lmao) to ask for help rescuing her from the guy basically keeping her prisoner.

Aforementioned guy keeping these monster girls prisoner was named Dekker, and he was basically the scum of the earth. He dealt in monsters and magic and took advantage of a lot of peoples inability to get help (EX: 'you're a werewolf. what are you gonna do? who's gonna help you? no one. theyll just think you're crazy, and then youll end up killing innocent people because you're a monster and that's what you do). Josie and Cleo were his favorite girls and he showboated them around as both arm candy and bodyguards.

The thing with Mira and her work is that she likes to help people as best she can, but she's not like. A superhero with all the latest tech. She's a woman with a smartphone and a handful of 30 year old weirdo friends that share a group chat where someone will text "do we have plans this weekend?" and then someone will reply 3 days later with "i forgot what day it was". They're not exactly the justice league.

All they were trying to do was find Josie and rescue her for her sister. Mira has a lot of power and can do a lot of things, but this Dekker guy was notoriously slippery, and no amount of brute force was going to get them into one of these monster fights without notifying Dekker and giving him a chance to escape with the girls.

So, after tracking down one of these fights, the plan was to sneak in, find Josie and then convince her to leave with them. Originally, it was just supposed to be Mira doing all the legwork. But Ark, who was going thru a fucking crisis of identity at the time and also saw a lot of his own sister in Rose, essentially demands Mira lets him help under the guise of "I'm human, I'm way less likely to draw unwanted attention". Esp since Mira is a 6'4" goddess who attracts attention everywhere she goes lmao (Of note, they had several friends who also urged Ark to Not Volunteer To Do This, but outside factors made it unrealistic for this plan to work without getting caught with anyone other than Ark oops).

So Ark went in to find Josie and Mira was anxiously playing support, ready to rush in and save him if need be. And, to be fair, he did in fact find Josie! He told her who he was and who sent him here (Rose) and told her all she had to do was go find Mira and she would get her out. But Josie was skeptical and, frankly, afraid. She didn't believe that Mira had the power to keep her safe from Dekker, but she also didn't want to believe that her sister had been looking for her for 10 years because she was so disgusted with herself she would have preferred her sister just think she was dead!

However - Cleo, who was with Josie, did not share her fears. Cleo had had Enough, and wanted to run away with her. Josie panicked, afraid that if they ran, they were going to be hunted down and everyone involved with her was going to be killed.

So she ran away to a back room to calm down. Cleo went after her, and Ark kind of followed, but at a distance. Cleo did manage to get her settled a little, but the both of them got caught by Dekker, who harassed Josie into admitting that there was someone there trying to get them to leave, hoping he would respect the honesty. He did not.

To try and mitigate some of the flack, Cleo claimed she was the one the guy was talking to, so he would chew her out instead. Josie and Cleo both felt bad that they'd fucked this guy over, but if he was with someone as powerful as he claimed to be, he'd be alright, surely?

Apparently this was not the first time Cleo has been distant from Dekker recently. It was clear she wasn't as afraid of him as he thought she should be. So he made the executive decision to make an example out of her.

The thing about werewolves and the full moon is this: the full moon is the only time when a werewolf is forced to turn. However, they can technically turn whenever if you supply enough trauma. For Josie, that line was watching Dekker kill the only person she'd loved in the last decade.

He'd expected her to fall in line because that's what she'd been doing for the last few years. He didn't really know what Cleo had meant to her, so he hadn't expected any retaliation. But something snapped in her brain and everything kinda went red.

Josie's a particularly large werewolf - at least 13'; there's a reason she was a fighting champion - so when a beast like that gets let loose in a relatively small arena, things tend to go bad fast! She just blindly started tearing people apart (including Dekker, of course).

Ark had heard the muffled gunshots over the music and the crowd and he just went in on instinct, knowing immediately he was fucked regardless of what he did. Things escalated very quickly after that. It couldn't have been more than 30 seconds that passed inbetween Josie wolfing out and her clamping her teeth into his shoulder. And maybe it was just a moment of grief-stricken clarity, but she wavered just slightly - what the fuck was she doing? She hated him because he'd tried to help and if he'd never shown up, they would be fine. But Cleo had trusted him without a doubt, like she just intrinsically knew something about him. And no matter how much she hated him in that moment, It's not what Cleo would have wanted. Dekker was dead.

Josie gently let go of him, mostly sure it wouldn't matter because he'd die either way. She took Cleo's body and she fled. Mira saw Ark, and she saw Josie run - she could choose one or the other. She, of course, chose to help Ark, immediately struck with the guilt of knowing that he was here because she couldn't talk him out of it, and because she thought she'd be strong enough to keep him safe anyway.

The next couple weeks are a blur for everyone. Mira hates Josie and she hates Rose for coming to her in the first place. Ark hates himself, mostly, because he was tired of being the weak little human everyone had to dote on so he decided to get in over his head playing hero. Well, at least he didnt have to worry about the human part any more.

Josie buried Cleo in the woods. She marked the grave and visits often.

Anyway.

Would you believe me if I told you this very sad series of events somehow ends in Ark marrying a professional wrestler? Or Josie going on to become a lawyer with a house-husband who is also part demon? Because it somehow gets much, much weirder.

[lesbianslvt666]

road trip pt4

pt1. pt2. pt3. pt5.

College au!

Mean! athlete!Ellie x trying to stand up for herself! Kind of an art major?(f)reader lmao

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Synopsis: Ellie and you are roommates in your shared dorm, both in different majors, you ever see each other when it comes to be at the dorm, on parties or with Dina, your shared best friend. At first Ellie was nice, always kept to herself but never mean, until she got her first college girlfriend, everyone keep telling you how much she looked like you, including Dina. So when Ellie "cheated" on her ex, her reputation went from friendly reserved football player, to fuck girl, "I got all the girls" asshole, or so it seemed to you…

Cw: kissing (gasps), mentions of saliva~. A LOT of swearing lol, Some angst. I don’t know what else lol, descriptions of nudity I guess, cannot remember if this has smut but I don’t think  so.

Well, tbh I wasn’t going to continue road trip, I was losing all motivation, however, something stressful happened, and to distract myself I tent to write, so…  (nothing to worry about anymore, I am just a bit mad.)

might some angst be here, or not, we would both discovered that lmao

Tw: this shit is so fucking bad, like I fr hate this so fucking much, the plot I originally had planned for the angst got deleted when my fucking stupid phone died and I didn’t saved it, I remembered some shit but I didn’t realized it got lost until like two days ago so we are here now.

The tinted sun light that went in from the small dot in between the heavy drapes of the ban got brighter and brighter as I became more conscious of it, I also became more conscious of my body, tangled in between the sheets, my feet and legs touching hers.

My hair falling to the opposite side, while her shorter hair tickled me a bit, she was nuzzling her face in my neck while holding with both hands my waist.

I felt her calm and sweet breath, how her body raised and rose quietly, however, I felt someone else's breath fanning over my face, which make me wake up instantly.

My eyes pilled open, the hand that was wrapped loosely around Ellie moved to my mouth, my body jumping off the embrace, hitting my head in the back board on the process.

"what the fuck!" Dinas eyes were open so impossibly big that they might as well gouch out of their sockets, I was too busy massaging my head with a groan to realized that I was still naked from last night, and so was Ellie.

"yall shut up, I am too tired…" Ellies voice was raspy and silky, drawing both our attentions to her, my eyes opened big, my stomach flipping upside down, I looked down to myself, putting the duvet up my breast to cover them.

"yall fucked last night?!" she started to walk from side to side, her giggles going dry and stopping to see us for a moment, giving Ellie and I a flick to the head "what's that for, fuck!" my head was still pounding from earlier, how dare she

"fuck you guys! Jesse and I haven't fuck to not make yall uncomfortable, and yall going all porno out here!"  her eyes squint at us, I felt kind of naked under her gaze, I looked down, to where Ellie was, she was now propped in her elbows, still resting, the cover falling from her breast, the warm sunlight from outside making her look so beautiful, she was so relaxed at what was happening.

at that moment she looked up at me, covering myself, she give a light smile and rode up, brushing her hand from my arm down to my leg, hugging with both her toned arms my calve, placing her beautiful head on my lap, looking back at Dina.

 "my bad peach, I couldn’t help myself, your bestie is just too hot" her body so relaxed, almost sleeping again. My heart felt heavy on my chest, my own body stiffing. she can't just do this to me, acting like we just hooked up and everything is fine, and she doesn’t has feelings for me. cause she doesn’t…

I mean she has every queer women at her feet, cause she can just screw however she wants, for she is The Ellie Williams for fucks sake…

Yeah it hurts, that she can never be mine, although, I can't deny last night was just too good, too fun, that even though her sweet words got to my head, and wrapped around my heart, the way she told me she's been waiting long enough to "make me feel good" how much she imagined how I taste or how I feel. How much she missed my lips…

"well, where are we going from here ladies?" Jesse opened the door, his nonchalant walk, taking a cup of water, like Ellie and I weren't naked beside him, he looked back at the three of us after he didn’t hear no reply.

realizing the situation at hand, his eyes squint and the loudest laugh ever went out of his chest, ripping hard from withing, his arm pointed out towards Dina, trying too hard to calm down his steric laughter "baby girl, you owe me 50 dollars!" he said in between laughs.

"yall bet on us?" Ellies eyebrow raised at them "it was Dinas idea, she said that you two would wait for a week. I guessed you would be all over each other in the first fucking night." his voice muffling more and more as he entered the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door, the sound of him pissing and then washing his hands made me realized that maybe, I didn't wanted to ruined this. having Ellie, having them, all the trust that we had on each other, almost reading each other minds.

Felt so good the dynamic that we had, maybe having something just casual with Ellie wasn’t that bad, maybe that is the only way I could "be" with her.

Maybe I just needed to loosen up and have fun…

After a deliberate amount of time, we ended up going out for breakfast. "well we are kind of close to crystal springs!" Dina was so animate about it "it's so pretty YN, you could maybe get some inspo for a painting there or something, pull out a Monet!" he eyes so bright, her hands clasping together in front of her, resting between her shoulder and her dazzling smiled face.

And with that being said, we walked all the way there. Dina and Ellie were at front, they were talking about the place and how Dina was too excited, "are you going to tell her?" Jesse whispered, "what do you mean?" my eyes flew to my hands, my shoes looking extremely interesting out of nowhere.

"oh, don’t play silly with me bug, you like Shrek" his hand pointing at Ellie, who was wearing a white tank top, some khaki pants and a brown flannel that was unbuttoned, the obnoxious laugh I let out made both Dina and Ellie look back at us, my body going slightly forward, my right hand holding my stomach, the other whipping the tears that followed.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"tell me how to pose now!" Dina was standing in a rock, it's been already two hours and I keep taking pics of her everywhere. I  look at her, squinting my eyes, trying to imagine a pose for her now, I move my hand signalling for her to copy me, placing one leg in front of the other, slightly tilting to the side and lazily razing both my arms over my head, my short skirt riding up a bit while my flowy shirt was dancing with the wind.

"Dina, why not let YN to pose for that pic" Ellie didn’t let Dina respond, for she was already lacing the camera with her long slender fingers, tracing over my own hand and getting a bit too close to me. "it's your time to shine hot stuff" before I said anything Ellie shoot a wink to Dina and smack "playfully" my ass with her tatted hand.

One, two, three… five… six… twenty… thirty, I don’t know how many pictures Ellie took of me but she wouldn’t stop, both Dina and Jesse started to walk ahead, living us behind on every spot Ellie want to snap me from.

"it might me your time to be photographed", I said standing from the rock I was sitting down. "I don’t know princess I am pretty comfortable being the one who take your pics." her bright smile and relaxed figure was so alluring, I placed my hand on my back pocket where my phone laid, taking it out and snapping her pictures without her noticing, so naturally beautiful like always.

When we turned back to the ban, was Ellies time to drive us, so naturally I followed her to be the passenger "princess" as Ellie keep jokingly calling me.

"so princess, your job is to, one. Check the google maps, two, pass me the cigs and three but most importantly, play the music, I trust you with that one, your taste in music is one of your best futures doll." her wink pooling in between my thighs.

As soon as she ignite the engine, I lit a cig placing it between my lips and giving it the first puff, passing it to Ellie, touching her lips on the process, she hummed at me, instinctively following my hand with her head.

Her hand fell to my thigh, squeezing once in a while, making it hard for me to concentrate on anything, including the map, nevertheless, we did found the restaurant Dina wanted to dine at.

"so, I was thinking, beach tomorrow, all day!" Dina was moving so much while munching on her fries, I tried too hard to speak, but the way Ellies hands softly went over the skin of my thigh gave me very distracting goosebumps, I could only concentrate on the feeling she was giving me.

the pent up feelings form earlier, and honestly from the past year were pooling, drooling even on my core, Dina kept on talking about what beach we could go, but oh, how good it felt, the way Ellies hand was going up, and up, my inner thigh tingling every inch she caressed, I shivered.

But she didn’t do anything about it, as soon as we entered the ban she drove to the parking spot, closed everything and went straight to sleeping, keeping herself on her side, fuck… "Ellie… Ellie, you awake?" my hand moved to her shoulder rocking her slightly to wake her up gently. But she didn’t, she just groaned and snuggled more, giving me only a view of her back.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"mmmhh…" my body, completely melted on the cushions, so comfortable, that not even the light entering the windows could've woke me up, the music, foggy from my sleepy state, however, the reason I wasn’t sleep was kissing me all over the face, lowering to my neck, all the way too my arms and tikling my tummy.

"fuck Ellie, let me sleep…"I elongated the e, trying to plead even though I was too tired to speak. "no sweet peach, we arrived to the beach!" Dina finished waking me up from her scream. "she was too insane last night that I woke up earlier to drive us here…" I looked up at Jesse, his face tired, he was already in his swim wear.

Dina went out of the room, wearing a pretty sundress and her green bikini underneath. Ellie stood up, helping me to do so, "I'll take the bathroom you take the room."

I walked to the cabinets where my clothes laid, taking my time choosing which one I liked the most. "oh! Yes, yes! That one, oh my god! I love how that one looks on you!" Dina was now behind me grabbing me by my shoulders and shaking me slightly, the orange bikini hanging from my fingers, threatening to fall, Dina had gifted me this in my last birthday, Ellie had planned for it to be at Joel's, he had a big pool and they thought a pool party was the go to for it.

I haven't wore it since then… "I, I don’t know Dina…" I couldn’t think of an excuse not to wear it, however Dina was already shoving me to the bedroom. I guess it isn't that deep anymore…

The burned orange colour contrasted against my skin, making me glow, my hair flowing wildly from my head, I put on my favourite pair of neckless, adorning my neck that was a bit revealing by the low cut on my cleavage, filling a bit exposed out of nowhere, I placed a flare wrap around my hips, covering a bit without taking away from the beautiful bikini, I finished by putting my brown sandals on, placing my towel on my inner arm.

did  I look even hotter than a year ago? Yes.

Am I more confident than last time I wore this? Probably.

Was I ready to let Ellie see me with it? It didn’t really matter, because as I was looking at myself, she opened the door.

"hey, we have to get going, Dina wants to buy drinks too so…" while rambling around she finally got to see me. Her eyes scanned at first my whole body, "we have to go" her face changed, I couldn’t exactly recognize what she was feeling, her whole body stiffened, oh she remembered…

Walking to the beach wasn’t an easy task, the road there was fine, however, the way Ellie absolutely avoided me… ignored me… crap, I was getting mad, we were almost shoulder to shoulder.

"so have you come to this beach before?" stupid question much? she looked down to her shoes, looking back up, searching for Dina, and as if didn't spoke at all. It wasn’t my most clever question but that was mean. she walked up to her, talking like nothing happened.

"well, this is painful to watch" Jesse, now taking Ellies place from before said, kind of loud, trying to get Ellie to hear. "I don’t know what's up with her, everything was fine this morning…" my hands flew to my face, I groaned looking up at the sky and shoving my feet, feeling like I was heavier with all the thoughts I was having. "shit Jesse!, she woke me up with kisses, what the fuck!?"

"LOOK GUYS, THE DUDE WITH THE HELLO KITTY BEERS!" Dina pointed at this dude that was sitting in a makeshift stand, large glasses with a hello kitty shape stood in bright colours. "the drinks are called ""micheladas"" love." it was Jesse's time to speak, while walking faster to catch up to Dina.

after getting our drinks and making our sitting area on the sand, Dina and Jesse ran to the beach, splashing each other, Ellie, by the other hand, sat down lighting up a cigarette.

"I don’t know what I did, or why the fuck you are avoiding me, but don’t you think we will enjoy this day more if we could fix this?"

My question made Ellie roll her eyes, still looking towards the love birds, I still can't figure out her expression, the pit on my stomach building up, as I sat down beside her, enough space to not scare her off, I didn’t wanted her to leave, again.

"you know what you are doing." she looked at me again. "not the fuck I don’t. cause you won't fucking tell me!" I was now racing my voice, trembling a bit.

"fuck you, I won't be the one saying it…" her face falling, her voice little, almost lost it if I wasn’t paying full attention to her.

"is it because of what happened at my last birthday?"

she looked back at me, her brows furrowed, her eyes burned me, the weight of that night heavy on my shoulders like when it happened.

"shit! Let me help you with it"

Ellies voice lingered all over my thoughts, almost as much as her touch did on my body, I accidentally made a small cut on my finger while we were cutting some fruit for us.

people  outside were drinking, smoking, partying, swimming.

Joel? Nowhere to be found.

Ellie says that maybe he was with this chick named Tess…

"come, I have something for that upstairs"

she guided me towards her old room, roaming around the bathroom, I sat down on her bed, checking down on the cut, a bit nastier than I thought, for the blood kept on spilling.

"here!" she took a big first aid kit with her, placing it on the bd beside me, and kneeling right in front of the soles of my feet.

"why such a big aid?"

when I asked that she let out a small chuckle, placing some antiseptic in a cotton pad, preparing the wound for the next steps.

"I use to skate a lot when I lived here, also playing football leaves you with very nasty slashes."

her laugh coming to an abrupt end when she saw my scrunched face, "yeah it's going to hurt, but we are almost over."

she finished very fast, placing my hand back to my lap but never taking her own off.

"you know YN, you are the most incredible, most beautiful person I've ever met…"

her eyes trailing all over me, her fingers making patterns on my thighs, I looked down to her lips, so puffy, pink and plush, the scent of her cologne radiating with the faint smell of the spf.

the last sun rays making her beautiful green eyes shimmer lightly,  if it wasn’t now, it was never going to be, so I kissed her.

I was afraid of doing so, I didn’t knew if this was alright, I dint knew if she wanted this, but when her hand came right to the small of my back, holding me closer to her, I calmed down, I melted in her touch, in a bit she straddle me, moving from being kneeled on the floor, her thighs on each side of my legs, the kiss too heated.

"you"

Kiss

"look"

Kiss

"fantastic with this bikini"

Kiss

Her words between kisses came with her hands squeezing and touching all over me.

her open lips gave me access to let my tongue in her mouth, her warm saliva mixing with mine.

Slowly and while kissing we shifted further into the bed, tops falling off our bodies and hands massaging and touching everywhere we could.

That’s when Joel appeared.

Bursting the door down.

"Kiddo, you promised me no drugs, and what I smell when I open the door? Weed!" his voice came to a stop when he saw us, shifting under the blankets trying to hide form Joel.

"I am so sorry Joel, my fault really, this was all a mistake…" I was so scared I ran out the door, putting on back my bikini.

Her kisses and her touches clouding my mind, I was so embarrassed cause I was the one that got the weed for them.

Even though I knew it was the only rule Joel gave.

"come on Ellie, I was basically a child, was scared Joel would call the cops on me"

Her face came to look at me, warm red blood pooling on her, her anger creating so much pressure that she felt her eyes become glossy.

"fuck you, you told me it was all a mistake"

Her voice razing a bit more with every words.

"I called you a hundred times after that and you ignored me. Hell, you crashed with your friends to not look at me!" her brows furrowed, knuckles white.

"I was embarrassed Ellie, I was scared okay? I was fucking eighteen and I was shitting my pants thinking Joel knew!" her face went sour, confusion clouding her mind

"what the actual fuck are you even talking about?!" her lip curling up in disgust.

"the fucking weed Ellie! I thought Joel hated me! I was fucking panicking thinking the fucking FBI was behind my ass! Thought you hated me for making Joel scream at you!" her confusion louder, words not making sense.

"why- what?" her voice lower, trying to understand what you were referring to.

"fucking hell Ellie, I took the weed AND Xanax to the party!" her eyes opening wide.

Her lough resonated miles away into the fucking ocean, tears streaming down her eyes powered by the comedy of it all.

"wait- and, and then… why the fuck you hated me?" her hand falling to her stomach, the pain growing with how fucking funny she found your eighteen year old fear.

"fuck Ellie" it was your turn to be mad, how fucking dare she ask?

"you fucking make sure to make my life a living hell after I came back!" your eyes narrowing to her form. Face stern.

"you slept with every girl ever, I thought you were the one who played with me!" your finger harshly crashing to your chest pointing at your growing pain, remembering how you came back to Ellie making out to another girl.

And since then, almost every night was like that.

pt1. pt2. pt3. pt5.