#i’m putting this in the tags for now but i might chicken out. it’s a bit embarrassing

[seoulmatez]

𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓂𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈, 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓃

boothill x f!reader. 1.5k wc. sfw. fluff. wild west au. outlaw!boothill. saloon performer!reader. first encounters ♡

a/n: self-indulgent :3 like, selfship fic disguised as an x reader fic self-indulgent :3 pls feel free to ignore lawlz

Outlaws have been a normal occurrence in town for as long as you could walk. That is to say, you aren’t entirely surprised when you find that yet another poster has been pinned up all over town, large bolded letters spelling out “WANTED” along the top pleading for the capture of another criminal—dead or alive. There’s something distinctly different about this one though, and you can tell because instead of passing the wanted poster with a brief glimpse and the mental note to steer clear of the man illustrated on it, you linger at the notice board, eyes glued to the parchment.

There’s no name printed on it and the asking price is fairly hefty—bigger than any bounty you’ve taken notice of in the past—but the one aspect of the poster that truly catches your eye is the drawing. He—or the artist’s rendition of him—is… handsome, you find yourself silently admitting. Contrasting light and dark hair is cut off by the frame—it makes you wonder how long it really is. Some of the shorter pieces hang loosely in front of his right eye, though the left is visible—enough so that you can see two moles right beneath the outer corner. A bullet stylized as jewelry dangles from his ear, metal cuffs hugging his helix.

What sticks with you the most is his sharp, crooked smile. It’s smug and should be off-putting but, for some reason unbeknownst to you, it makes your heart skip a beat.

You can’t put your finger on how long you stand staring at the poster but you don’t make a move to tear your eyes away until you hear someone calling your name from afar.

And even then, you can’t get that man’s face out of your head.

• • •

You’re getting ready in a room too small to accommodate the number of girls in it. It’s typical to fight over a mirror, to bump shoulders every now and then. Curiously, the dressing room feels oddly spacious tonight. As you paint rouge on your lips, you glance around to take a headcount—if anyone is missing, you’ll have more work on your plate this shift.

You count three including yourself sitting on the stools and the rest at the door, practically falling over each other to take a peek outside of the room. They’re whispering about something, their hushed voices only rising loud enough that you can pick out a few words. No way, my goodness, unreal. The gossip makes you frown and rise from your seat. You’re missing out on something, you know it. This isn’t you being nosey, just cautious—if something is happening, it’s best to be informed, you tell yourself as you join the ladies at the door.

“What’s going on?” You don’t bother trying to squeeze your way through—you think it might be even more difficult than trying to take a mirror for yourself.

Your voice, much louder than their faint whispers, is enough to catch their attention. You’re met with wide eyes and even wider smiles looking back at you. Nothing bad, then, not if everyone is grinning like this. You raise your eyebrows in a silent question, waiting almost impatiently for an answer. A couple of them move aside. “Take a look for yourself.”

You accept the invitation, carefully navigating the tight path made for you. Your fingers grasp the frame of the door and you slowly poke your head out, gazing in the direction the girls had been just moments ago. You scan the crowd deliberately in search of anything out of the ordinary but nothing looks unusual. You spot a few regulars as your eyes carry over every face in the place. They stop at the bar where you catch sight of the bartender. He’s pouring something for a patron, one whose head is down and whose face is shadowed by his hat.

You squint as if it’ll help you see better. It’s no use but, as if he could tell you were itching to get a look, he tips his head back, a glass halfway full of an amber-colored liquid touching his lips. You recognize that hair under the lights of the saloon—black and white, two-toned just like in the poster. You suck in a tiny gasp, one that’s inaudible given all the chatter, but you can’t seem to pull your eyes away.

He drinks his liquor leisurely, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with each gulp. The glass is empty quickly and you’re sure you would have heard it hit the counter if it weren’t so loud. One of the man’s forearms rests beside the glass on the counter, his other hand busy wiping his mouth. His thumb swipes away the lingering moisture on his lower lip and as his finger moves, so does his head, slowly turning in your very direction.

Eyes grey like gravel lock onto yours. Your heart skips a beat, just like it had before—and, just like then, you’re frozen, unable to move. Despite having been caught staring, an inkling of happiness sprouts in your chest at the chance to see him head-on, in all his glory.  It’s all there—the two moles, the earrings, and soon enough, that sharp, crooked smile.

He winks at you and the quick movement is all the acknowledgement you need to finally draw back. You do so aggressively, like you had been holding your hand over a fire and the flame finally touched your palm. It’s almost enough for you to knock into the pile of girls you had forgotten were stationed behind you.

They look at you expectantly, not bothering to hide their giddy satisfaction at your reaction. “Cute, ain’t he?” one of them asks.

And a ton of other things—dangerous, off-limits, utterly enticing, just to name a few. You don’t say any of that, though. You just nod and hope your voice doesn’t betray you. “I suppose.”

You seldom find yourself nervous for performances but knowing he’s out in the crowd has your heart racing for the rest of the night.

Time flows strangely during your shift—feeling like it’s crawling at a snail’s pace one moment and flying as quickly as a rocket the next. You feel like you can breathe easier when you’re dismissed for the night, even more so when you leave the suffocating building and are met with a cool breeze outside.

Your relief is short-lived. A voice speaks up from beside you.

“Evenin’, little lady.” 

“Oh!” Your hands shoot up to cover your heart. You debate running—that seems like the best idea given your situation—an unknown man waiting to catch you alone. You take a step away, ready to bolt if necessary.

To your surprise, he doesn’t reach for you.

“Apologies—” he raises his hands in mock surrender, “didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness now and a face you weren’t expecting to see becomes visible. The town’s newest outlaw, here, speaking to you. Maybe you should have run—maybe you still should. Though, for some reason, his raised hands feel like a show of good faith. You’re sure if he had bad intentions, he wouldn’t waste time trying to make you comfortable. “Um, that’s alright.”

“It felt rude not to thank ya for the performance.” He was watching, then. You’ve made a habit of limiting eye contact with your spectators and that much held up tonight. Something was telling you that if you caught a glimpse of him looking at you again, you would end up tripping over your feet and making a fool of yourself. “Would have watched ya all night if they gave ya the stage.”

That grin is back but, now that you think about it, of the very few times you’ve seen him, he’s always wearing it. Almost like it never leaves. Despite that, being on the receiving end of it has an undeniable effect on you. Your heart won’t stop jumping for him. You can’t let him know that. “Yeah, well, everyone’s gotta have their time to shine.”

“Ain’t that a shame…” he drawls. And it sounds like he really means it. “Guess I’ll have to stay long enough to see ya up there again.”

You can’t have heard that right. No singing or dancing could be—should be—enough to make a man risk staying in a town where his wanted poster is plastered all over the place. It’s a decision that toes the line between confidence and stupidity but it flatters you all the same. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire as you hold his gaze. 

“You’d really stay for that?” you ask, but the question in your head is more like; you’d really stay for me?

He takes a step forward toward you and you're surprised that you don’t counter by taking a step back. His hand comes up to hover by your cheek, close enough that you can feel its warmth but far enough that his skin doesn’t touch yours. As quickly as it came, it’s gone. “See ya around, little lady.”

And with that, he leaves.

You lose track of how long you stand outside wondering if that was a yes.

[chlorinecake]

imagine taking care of riki while he’s sick and he can’t resist the urge to give you kissies all over bc he’s so inluv with you :(

[Vitamin C]uddles —⊹ N.RK (西村力) 🛏️

Pairing… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sick boyfriend!niki x gf!reader

Warnings… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ kissing, lots of teasing, fluff

Words… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 521 -> “I’ll take care of you. Duh.”

Despite his usually intimidating appearance, Niki was a huge baby on the inside, and those attributes were only amplified whenever he wasn’t feeling well.

The poor boy had been sick ever since he got back from traveling, so you took it upon yourself to care for him until he got better.

“Hey, this needs more soy sauce… I can hardly taste it,” Niki whined, taking a dissatisfied sip from the chicken soup you ordered.

“Niki, there’s already so much in here that the broth turned brown. Now eat up before it gets cold,” you said, placing a napkin on the table tray beside him.

“I will, but only if you stay with me this time.”

You turned your head at his words, “Aww, d’you miss me?”

“No, I’ve been in bed all day and I’m just bored.”

“Riigght,” you said, spoon feeding him a glob of the grape flavored medicine.

He made a weird face, trying to get over the bitter taste of the cough syrup, “My God, that tastes like poison!”

You giggled at your boyfriends words, climbing in bed next to him with a large plate of assorted sushi rolls, “Try some with wasabi, too! It might help unclog your sinuses.”

Using the chopsticks, you dipped a sushi roll into the chunky green paste, bringing it to his mouth with an airplane motion.

You must’ve put too much, because his eyes immediately started watering as he ate it.

“Do you have any other talents aside from torturing me everyday?” He asked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Yup,” you said plainly, escaping his side, “I’m pretty good at leaving sick people to fend for themselves.”

He watched as you walked toward the door, “Byeeee… wait! NOO!! I miss you already!”

“But you just said bye?”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. Come back please!! You forgot to give me vitamin C.”

“Vitamin what?” You asked, turning to face him with your arms crossed.

“Vitamin C… for cuddles,” he clarified, pouting.

“Fine,” you said sharply, “but only if you promise not to say anything else stupid… or mean.”

“Ok, ok, just stop stalling and get over here already!”

You walked back to the bed, lying next to Niki under the covers as he put the sushi platter on the bedside table.

“Wahhh, you’re so warm,” you giggled, your silly boyfriend swinging his leg over your body.

“Okay, now what are you doing?”

“Making a cage for you, my naughty little kitten,” he smiled, poking your nose.

“But I don’t like cages,” you sulked.

“Well then pretend it’s a seatbelt instead,” he chirped.

“Fine…”

“Double FINE! Can I get a kiss now?”

“What? No, what if you get me sick?”

“Then I’ll take care of you. Duh… and before you ask, yes, I promise,” he chuckled, resting his hand on your neck before cradling your face in his hand, leaving feather light kisses all over your face.

“Thank you for not rejecting my heebie-jeebies,” he said in between pecking your cheeks.

“Well when you put it like that, it kinda makes me want to,” you teased, squirming in his warm embrace.

More like this: Kisses with Riki in the dressing room

౨ৎ Thank you for reading this quick little fic, and special thanks to the lovely anon who requested this piece!

౨ৎ Feel free to check out more cute and fun reads like this at the pinned post on my blog :3

౨ৎ Tags: kinda got lazy here but bear with me ~ @squoxle @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @nikisdubblchococake

update 12/03: Thank you all so much for 1,000 likes!!

[xhazzz]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Bagman

warnings: none.

summary: the cute blonde pilot trying to get your number. and you’re Maverick’s daughter, btw.

a/n: hi to anyone who’s reading this, its my first post so i hope you like it. This might be the first part to a small serie about how you and hangman fall in love. Anyway, enjoy. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIST LENGUAGE, so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || request’s are open

READER’S POV:

Being back home felt strange, like traveling back in time. I remembered how, when I was a kid, my dad and Uncle Goose would sit Bradley and me on the piano and play and sing for hours. Now, here I was, standing behind the bar helping Penny on a busy night.

The Hard Deck was packed—classic for a Friday night. The jukebox music blended with the chatter of the crowd. The place had been full of naval aviators for over an hour, most of them still in uniform, using it as a strategy to attract women. I recognized a few faces—besides Bradley’s—since I had snooped through my dad’s files on the pilots he’d be training.

“What do I have to do to get the pretty girl behind the bar to give me another round?” one of the pilots asked, leaning his elbow on the bar and placing his empty beer bottles in front of me.

“Maybe you just need to ask nicely,” I said with a smile, grabbing the bottles to swap them for fresh ones. His uniform tag read “Seresin”. He was one of my dad’s squadron members. I wouldn’t deny it—he was very attractive: blond, green eyes, and every bit the charming prince. “Here you go, handsome.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, taking the beers but staying put, leaning against the bar more comfortably. “And if I wanted your number, would I just have to ask nicely for that, too?”

“Is that the line you use on all the girls?” I teased, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You think I’m one of those guys?” he said, pretending to be offended as he took a sip of his beer, never breaking eye contact. “Ouch.”

“I know pilots. You all pretend to be charming and different from the rest,” I replied with a sigh, wiping the bar with a rag. “You think you’re irresistible and that every girl falls for you—even with a stupid mustache, like Rooster’s.”

He glanced over, laughing, and spotted Rooster playing pool with the other pilots.

“The problem is, you’ve only met Chicken. I’m way better than him,” he said, making me pause and lean on the bar in front of him. Bradley had already told me about him.

“You must be Bagman,” I said, laughing.

“Hangman, sweetheart,” he corrected instantly, winking. Okay, he was very attractive. “How do you know my callsign?”

“Oh, trust me, I know way more than you think,” I said, winking back before turning to serve some other guys who had come up to the bar for refills.

It took me about five minutes to serve everyone, and the whole time, I could feel his eyes on me as he sipped his beer, patiently waiting for me to finish.

“So, since you know who I am, maybe you could reconsider giving me your number,” he said, leaning closer from the other side of the bar.

“I don’t know. I don’t think you’re ready for it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad walk in and head straight for the bar to take a seat.

“Hey, darlin’. You know my usual,” my dad said with a smile.

I started preparing his whiskey the way he liked it, aware that Hangman was still waiting at the bar.

“I think I’m more than ready. It’s not every day I meet a gorgeous girl like you,” Hangman said. “All I’m asking for is your number—or at least let me buy you a drink.”

I laughed, shaking my head. Poor guy had no idea what he was in for. I garnished my dad’s glass with a slice of lemon and set it in front of him.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“No problem, Dad,” I replied, turning to face the blond pilot with my arms crossed. He took a sip of his beer and nearly choked.

“Dad?” he asked, glancing between me and my father.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” my dad asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“No, sir.”, he replied, pressing his lips together.

“Then you’d better keep your fake charm away from my daughter,” my dad added.

I burst out laughing and leaned over to swap out the pilot’s beer.

“I told you, you weren’t ready for my number,” I said with a smirk before walking away to serve someone else. After saying goodnight to my dad, Hangman finally moved over to the pool table where Rooster and the others were.

“Poor guy, Dad. You scared him,” I said, approaching my father.

“I don’t care. No one’s good enough for my little girl,” he said, rubbing my arm affectionately. “Besides, if he’s really interested, he’ll have to work for it.”

The rest of the night passed quietly, picking up glasses and serving drinks until Penny told me I could clock out. Every now and then, I caught the blond pilot glancing my way, and I couldn’t deny I felt a little disappointed when he backed off after realizing my dad would be his coach. Maybe he was a jerk, like Bradley said.

After saying goodbye to Penny and my dad, I grabbed my denim jacket and stepped out of the Hard Deck. My ears welcomed the silence after the noise inside. As I walked toward the street, I heard someone coming out behind me.

“Hey, wait,” Hangman called out. “Have you reconsidered giving me your number?”

“You never quit, do you?” I laughed, crossing my arms.

“Not when it comes to the prettiest girl in the bar,” he said, mimicking my stance and stepping closer.

“You don’t even know my name—and I don’t really know yours, either, Bagman.”

“Hangman. And it’s Jake,” he said, closing the distance between us and extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” I said, shaking his hand. Mine was noticeably smaller than his, but they fit perfectly.

“Now that we’re properly introduced…” he started, still holding my hand.

“If you figure out my name, maybe I’ll give you my number,” I teased, pulling my hand away. “Goodnight, Jake.”

I took a few steps away and glanced back at him. He stood there, shaking his head and laughing softly, hands on his hips.

“Hope you’re free tomorrow night, sweetheart,” he called out loud enough for me to hear as I walked away.

“We’ll see, Bagman,” I replied.

__________________________________________________________

JAKE’S POV:

“Give me 200 more, Hangman,” Maverick shouted with a grin on his face, standing in front of me. This man was enjoying himself.

“What’s up with you, man?” Fanboy asked after finishing his push-ups. “Is it because of that girl last night? The one who didn’t give you her number?”

“She’s not just any girl, dude,” I replied between sets. “She’s Mav’s daughter.”

“No way,” my friend said, laughing. “Maverick’s daughter is what’s got you so distracted today?”

“Shut your mouth,” I muttered, noticing Rooster laughing at me from a distance.

By the end of the day’s training, we were all in the locker room, peeling off our flight suits. While everyone else was chatting about who should buy drinks tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Not just because I didn’t get her number—though, to be honest, that didn’t happen to me often—but because she was truly stunning. I knew that the more I saw her behind the Hard Deck bar, the more she’d catch my attention.

“So, Hangman… last night you met Daddy’s little girl,” Rooster teased as he pulled on a clean T-shirt, followed by one of his ridiculous Hawaiian shirts. “Must be the first girl who didn’t fall at your feet.”

“Don’t start, Chicken,” I shot back, slamming my locker shut and leaning against it, arms crossed. “I’m sure that happens to you all the time.”

“You wish,” he said. “At least I can call her whenever I want.”

Rooster closed his locker and started walking out of the room.

“Don’t you dare, Bradshaw. I saw her first,” I said, following after him.

“God, how old are you? Eight? What is this, ‘I saw her first’?”

“Shut up, will you?” I sighed. “I can’t deny I’ve been thinking about her all day, and I don’t even know her name. But you, my friend, are going to help me.”

I threw an arm around his shoulders playfully, and he shrugged me off, pushing me away.

“So now we’re friends?” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “Y/N would never go for you anyway.”

“Y/N,” I repeated, biting the inside of my cheek with a grin. “Even her name is cute.”

“She’s not going to be one of your one-night stands, got it, Bagman?” Rooster said, walking toward the exit again.

“Come on, Bradshaw, I just want to take her out to dinner,” I said, trailing after him.

“Why don’t you ask Mav for her number? I’m sure he’d be thrilled to give it to you.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Chicken. I’ll buy you a drink too if that’s what you want.”

Bradley let out a laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll buy all my drinks this week, and I’ll give you her number,” he said, challenging me.

“You’re insane. I’m not paying for all your drinking this week.”

“Then I’ll call her and ask her out myself,” he said, pulling out the keys to his old Bronco and heading toward it.

Was it worth paying this idiot for Y/N’s number? Even knowing she might turn me down again—and that her dad would punish me in every damn training session? Screw it. I’d take the risk.

“Deal,” I said, catching up to him at his truck.

“What?” Rooster asked, incredulous.

“I’ll cover your tab this week, as long as you give me her number and stay out of my way, Chicken.”

The idiot just laughed, pulling out his phone and typing on it. Seconds later, I got a notification—he’d sent me her contact info.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Bagman,” he said, climbing into his truck. “And just so you know, I wasn’t planning on asking her out. She’s like a sister to me, you idiot.”

“You’re an asshole, Bradshaw,” I shouted as he drove off.

______________________________________________________

READER’S POV:

I had just gotten out of the shower when my phone started ringing. “Unknown number.”

“Hello?” I answered, putting it on speaker while wrapping myself in a towel.

“Hi, Y/N,” said a voice on the other end. It was the blonde pilot from the Hard Deck.

“How did you get my number, Bagman?”

“It’s Jake to you, sweetheart,” he said. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he had that stupid grin on his face. “So, are you finally going to let me take you to dinner?”

“Don’t you ever get tired?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Not when it comes to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed and stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“Pick me up in 30 minutes. I’ll send you the address,” I said, smiling.

“At your service, ma’am..” he replied, and I hung up.

It was just dinner with Hangman. What could possibly go wrong?

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | In Motion

Moving on is scary. Moving back won't bring you forwards. But moving with someone at your side can be exciting.

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, fluff!!, MCs Ex, police, Jungkook being the victim of bullying (dw), fluff?, nsfw but it's very light (sorry)

Length: 6k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

“Its funny how a woman can change a man.” Yoongi mentions, sitting at the big company dinner next to Jungkook, who's both visibly distracted and upset to be present, phone being checked every few minutes or so- and Yoongi knows who he might be texting with. “why didn’t you bring her along?” He wonders, while Jungkook sighs.  

“I’m actually not sure.” He admits. “I’ve been given a plus-one like always, and I planned on inviting her- but then I.. chickened out.” He shakes his head. “these events are boring as hell.” He says, eating his food with not much interest.  

“What is she doing at home instead?” Yoongi asks, setting his own cutlery aside as he’s finished his plate.  

“Cooking. She sent me a picture of some.. macaroni and cheese she made from scratch.” Jungkook smiles to himself as he thinks to the image you’ve sent him with multiple excited emojis to convey your happiness over it- having tried to wing it for the first time. “now she’s most likely watching her favorite show since it’s Tuesday.” He shrugs.  

“Wow.” Yoongi jokes. “That’s so much more exciting, damn.” He flatly tells his friend, who rolls his eyes. “Jungkook, have you actually asked her if she’d ever want to tag along?”  

“…Yes.. and she said she wouldn’t mind..” He admits shamefully so.  

“Then bring her next time. You act as if you and her are George and Maria over there. You’re not sixty for God’s sake, and she didn’t turn legal yesterday either.” Yoongi shakes his head with laughter, amused by his best friend. He’s noticed the change in him pretty much immediately after the younger guy had returned from his vacation and days taken off- looking almost ten years younger, happy and most of all carefree. There was no worry on his face, no thoughts wrinkling his brows, no annoyance and clear signs of boiling burnout left.  

“I.. want to ask her to move in with me.” Jungkook admits suddenly, staring at his food. “I know it’s a bit fast but.. I feel like this time, she really is the one for me.” He tells his friend, who shrugs.  

“Its your decision. I’m happy you found someone good.” He simply answers him, refusing to really help in that regard. Jungkook can make this decision all by himself, after all. 

And he should. 

Back at his place, where he puts the car keys on the kitchen counter before he unbuttons his shirt to get ready to shower, he takes a small look around. The cooking utensils he bought just for you are still here, and so is your favorite blanket. The pillows he got are littering the couch, and yet, only you are missing.  

You’re missing.  

Even though you’re technically not even meant to be here all the time yet.  

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook has become.. suspicious, to say the least.  

You’ve been together for a few months now after all, and ever single one of them, for the same week or so, you vanish out of sight. And he’s not stupid. 

He knows you don’t have an affair with someone else, or your work simply always calls you in during that time, because he knows you escape his sight even when you have days off. No, he knows exactly what it is, and he honestly doesn’t really know why you do it.  

Do you think it grosses him out? Or that he doesn’t know how to deal with it? Knowing you at this point, he might just be right.  

But he also can’t force you to come out and be with him during that time of the month if you don’t want to. You have to want this all by yourself, because otherwise, how can you both build a relationship that’s not the same as your past? He’s not that much better from your past boyfriend if he was to just overstep a boundary you clearly still have.  

Back at work in his private office, he contemplates on messaging you. That could help, right? He types out a simple message, letting you know that if it really is what he thinks happens every month, then you don’t have to be worried at all.

He doesn’t mind. At all.  

So he just texts you- tells you that if you ‘need anything at all’, he’d just bring it over and leave you be if that’s what you’re most comfortable with. However, instead of just texting back, you call him- making him wave towards his secretary in a manner that shows her he is for now unavailable unless urgent. “Well hello, darling.” He chuckles when he picks up the call, unaware that on the other end, his words still make you horribly shy.  

“Sorry for not.. Uhm.. You know, calling you or anything.” You say, but Jungkook doesn’t mind.  

“It’s no bother. We’re both still getting used to things, after all.” He reminds you. “Though I’d love some sign of life every now and then in the future. Just a quick ‘hey, I’m doing ok’ is really enough for me.” He offers.  

“Sorry. I’ll think about it from now on.” You say, though Jungkook is pleased to hear that you don’t just do it out of submission- but that it sounds a lot more like relief, almost. As if you’ve waited for him to say this. “But uhm.. What do you mean by, ‘if I need anything’?” You wonder.  

“I’m assuming you avoid me every month due to your period.” He says, and you just meekly answer with a sigh, and a ‘yeah’. “It’s no bother to me, really. It’s not gross or whatever you might think.” 

“I’m just.. Moody and stuff. I’m worried I might.. I don’t know, be mean to you on accident.” You warn him, and he just laughs it off.  

“I’m not that fragile, love.” He jokes. “And I doubt that you’ll end up calling me an asshole every second of the day if we spend time together.”  

“No, I’d never!” you defend yourself, making him chuckle. “I just get cranky, and I don’t know.. I might just get onto your nerves.” You warn him. 

“You could turn full on toddler on me, and I’d still take care of you.” He jokes. “I really don’t mind. How about we meet up later, and I’ll cook us something at your place? I have the weekend off, we could spend it together.” He offers, clicking a little through the rest of the E-Mails he has for today. “Or you could always.. Stay over at my place as well. You know I love it when you’re there with me.” He says. 

You really like his place. To the point, where you actually begin to miss being there, despite having loved your little apartment for so long until now. It’s odd how his house has become somewhat of a safe-space, even thinking about it makes you feel good. And hearing that he personally enjoys having you over as well offers you some sort of hope that maybe one day, he might even want you there permanently.  

What could living with him look like? 

How long until he gets annoyed with you? 

“I really like your home.” You confess quietly, and he waves off his secretary that’s about to knock- because he can feel he’s potentially at the very cusp of something. “Do you.. I mean..” You mumble, before you sigh. “Yeah sure, let’s uhm.. Spend the weekend together.” You tell him, and he realizes quickly that your tone is not very confident at all, despite the fact that you’re trying to make it seem like it is.  

“It could be your home too, you know?” 

He waits for you to answer, and he knows this needs some time to be thought through, but he truly believes that you’re the one for him. It doesn’t have to happen right away either- but he wants you to know that the option is there, if you’d like to take it someday.  

“I-“ you start, when he can hear your doorbell ring in the background. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” You tell him, leaving the phone for a little bit, silence the only thing that Jungkook gets to hear. Your phone probably cancels out whatever quiet noise might be there, so he’s unsure what’s going on, until you return to the phone again. “Can I call you back later?” You say after a moment, voice almost whispering.  

“What’s wrong?” He asks, immediately alarmed by your behavior. He presses for an answer by saying your name- but still, you don’t answer. Until you finally do.  

“He’s here.” You say, 

And Jungkook immediately grabs the keys to his car, rushing out as fast as he can.  

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook isn’t sure what he expected your ex to look like. But seeing him now, in front of your door as Jungkook walks closer, he feels his blood boil. 

The man is not quite as tall as he is just like you mentioned a few months back, but he’s clearly training for muscle. A very intimidating body, and the second the man turns towards him, he spots the things you’ve told him before as well. His facial features are a lot sharper than Jungkook’s, eyes dark as they muster him up and down, frown on his face. “What do you want?” He asks, voice deep, raspy. Most likely from smoking- cigarette smell still clinging to the man in front of him. 

“I’d like to visit my girlfriend, if you’d be so polite to make space for me to enter the door, please.” Jungkook speaks, tone held at a very specific tone as to not give away any emotions for his opponent to pick up on. 

“Oh, so she got a rich guy now.” Your ex says, leaning back, arms crossed- most likely to present his muscles, something that Jungkook thinks looks simply childish. “Tell her she owes me money. I need it asap, and she keeps avoiding me.” He explains, and Jungkook nods.  

“I’d love to tell her that.” He says. “But you’re still blocking the door.” he says, noticing both the very clear and sharp smell of alcohol, and the way he slightly sways a bit. 

It’s quiet for a good moment, both men staring each other down, before your ex moves to the side, though it’s clear that he doesn’t do it as to admit defeat. Jungkook takes the chance and knocks at your door now, prepared that your ex might try and slip inside the second you open it. “Hey- it’s me.” Jungkook tells you through the door, and at that, you open it just a little bit, like you’re trying to check if he’s actually there or not.  

Once you look at him, his entire face softens. 

You look like a panicked animal that just escaped a shot to the head, eyes wide, staring up at him. At the sight of Jungkook you instantly open the door wider to welcome him inside, and he himself is quick to shut the door right behind him, a hand having tried to keep it open last second. 

“I’m here now.” Jungkook reassures you while you cling to him, your ex having moved to knock and ring the doorbell constantly, angry about Jungkook’s antics. “Don’t worry. Let’s call someone to deal with him, and then we’ll go from there, alright?” He explains to you, as you detach yourself a bit, taking a few deep breaths at the instruction of Jungkook who’s still holding your arms as if to steady you. “Go sit down, I’ll make the call. Did he hurt you at all?” He worries, but you shake your head. 

“I didn’t let him in.” You answer quietly, and Jungkook nods. 

“Which is the best thing you could’ve done. Good job.” He praises, helping you sit down in your bedroom, as far away from the front door, which is still being tortured, as possible, before he walks back out into your kitchen, phone on his ear to call the police. 

It all happens a lot quicker than he would’ve thought- your ex having apparently had gone against some very important guidelines he’s been given after a more recent violent crime he’s committed. “You can file in for a restraining order.” The officer tells Jungkook who nods. “Judging by the fact that he’s known already, that might be for the best. Those people are too unhinged to really be trusted.” 

“Yeah, seeing him in person today has definitely made up my mind about some legal restrictions placed onto him.” Jungkook agrees. “Thank you for dealing with him so quickly.”  

“No problem. You two have a calm rest of your day.” The officer says, before they drive off, your ex in the back of the police car. 

The second he’s back in your home, having realized he actually knows the pin-code to your door, he carefully opens the bedroom door where you’re still hiding on your bed- and the second he nods, you get the message letting go of a deep breath, leaning against him the second he sits down on your bed. “The officer said we should probably file a restraining order towards him.” Jungkook tells you. “I think that’s a good idea as well. It would.. Definitely help me, knowing that he can’t get close to you.” 

“...wait- it’s Tuesday, you were at work-!” You suddenly say, realizing that he probably left work early just to be here now. “You can go back now, I swear I’m fine-” 

“The office won’t burn down just because I’m not there darling, relax.” He laughs, running a hand up and down your arm. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow anyways, and after that I’ll work from home for a while. So it’s not that bad, I promise.” He explains to you, who slowly nods. “And it was a family-emergency after all. They all surely understand that I suddenly ran off.” He jokes- 

Though you feel oddly emotional at the mention of that phrase. 

“Family emergency?” You ask quietly, and he nods, easily, as if it’s no big deal.  

“My girlfriend was in trouble. I’d count that as a family emergency.” He shrugs, and you look at your knees, unsure about what to think. “Which, by the way.. And you can totally say no, it would be completely fine-” He starts, before he continues his sentence once you look at him. “-but.. My parents might want to meet you.” He reveals, strangely... shy almost. 

“Might?” You wonder, and he nods, before sighing. 

“I might’ve let it slip that we’re.. Well, a couple.” He admits. “And I can’t help it, really.” 

“Can’t help what?” You wonder, making him play with the silver rings on his bottom lip. 

“I tend to.. Ramble on and on when it comes to you. So when they asked about you, I just.. I couldn’t help it. And now my family is very much curious to meet you.” He explains, and you smile to yourself. 

“Well.. I mean, I don’t mind?” You say. “What’s the worst that can happen, am I right?”  

“Oh god you don’t know my family.” He dramatizes playfully. “My mother can be a handful, and my brother will most likely just go on and on about some embarrassing stuff that happened when we were kids.” he groans, and you can’t help but grin. 

“Are you scared I might end up hearing something you’d otherwise keep from me?” You wonder, and he glares at you, before he suddenly smiles. “But really. I don’t mind meeting them, if you’re okay with that.” You say. 

And Jungkook can’t help but lean over at that to kiss your lips, realizing just how serious you’re both getting. 

“You’re the only one I’d ever want them to meet.” 

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook’s parents have never liked his ex wife. 

That’s information you’ve been told later that night before Jungkook had left to go home- and you’re unsure how to think about that. You feel like there’s now a standard you have to reach, and you’re not sure if you can. If you meet them, and it doesn’t work out, what will they think of you?

Your ex has never really let you meet his parents much- only fleetingly, when you met them by chance at the local grocery store or in similar situations. You know that Jungkook has a brother who’s been married for much longer than Jungkook has been- will he judge you for being so much younger than Jungkook himself? 

Will his parents think you’re not a good fit for him because you’re too young? Or do they know already? 

You’re currently washing dishes from the breakfast Jungkook and you had at his place today, when the doorbell rings. You’ve spent the night after admitting that you weren’t feeling good about sleeping at your own place after what happened, and he understood- happily telling you that you can always stay at his house for as long as you’d like. You wonder if he meant permanently.   

He’s been hinting at it for quite a bit now.  

A dog almost jumps up on you, another one following- two tiny whippets excitedly yapping at you, before a young man calls them towards him. Only now do you see three people entering the house through the front door- an older couple, and the young man who you assume owns the dogs, Jungkook standing on the sidelines, hiding his face in his hand.  

“Oh, you must be her!” The woman says, and you instantly know that she must be his mother. He inherited quite a bit of her facial features, though you can also see his father in him as well, the man a lot quieter than her, simply hanging up her coat before greeting his son properly. “Oh you do look young! But very pretty.” She tells you, before she tells you her name.  “When did you change the furniture? It looks so much brighter in here without that weird sofa in the living room.” His mother exclaims, as Jungkook enters the open kitchen.  

“I- mom, when I said you could visit I didn’t mean today.!” Jungkook almost whines, before he throws you an apologetic look. “And also, what are you even doing here?” He asks the young man who very clearly has to be his brother from visual appearance alone.  

“Hey, I gotta know who the pretty girl is who caught my baby brother’s attention!” He teases, smacking Jungkook’s back. “You’ve been going on and on about her, you can’t blame me for being curious.” He explains himself, before he reaches out to you. “Junghyun. Nice to meet you.” He greets you, before he boldly moves to take a look inside the fridge.  

It's odd how you just instantly know the dynamic of his family from this small interaction alone.

Jungkook quickly somehow gets his family to sit in the living room while telling them that he’ll make them something to drink, before he joins you in the kitchen again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know when J talked to them yesterday that they would show up literally 24 hours later-“ he apologizes, but you wave him off.  

“Its.. not that big of a deal. They seem nice- and it would’ve had to happen at some point, right?” You wonder, and he nods.  

“Still, it must be at least somewhat uncomfortable. I know I’d like to be prepared to meet your parents.” He sighs, moving to make some coffee for his parents after pecking your lips once.  

“…would you?” You ask, and he turns around after clicking the right buttons on the coffee machine in front of him. “meet my parents, I mean.” You ask, unsure.  

“I.. yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck a little. “I’m.. I mean, I don’t know if they’re even aware that you’re seeing someone-“ 

“They are.” You admit. “they.. I told my mom. After we.. after Christmas.” You explain, and he listens with interest, letting you go at your own pace however. “She’s.. they both know you’re older, and my dad is not very happy about that. But my mom seemed welcoming of the idea.” You tell him honestly, and he nods. “they’re scared too, you know? After all that happened.”  

Jungkook nods. “I completely understand. And even without that-“ he shrugs. “-I guess any parents would be suspicious of a relationship like ours.” Be admits and you nod as well, well aware that your parents might not be as easy going as his are. “but well make it work. Right?” be asks, and you know what he’s asking.  

Not if you’re gonna make it work- but if your parent’s possibly being against your relationship could be a deal breaker for you.  

“Yeah.” You say, because you’re not going to let this be taken away from you, by anyone. You’ve had a taste of what your life could be like if you were to just let it happen- and you don’t want to hide away and be trampled over anymore. You want him, you want this life and this future you might have together- no matter what.  

And Jungkook can’t help but walk closer to you, kissing your lips while he tenderly holds your cheeks.  

“Mom, Jungkook is making out with his girlfriend instead of making Coffee!” his brother yells, and Jungkook leans back at that, jaw clenched and tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek while he’s got his eyes closed, having to restrain himself you imagine. But you can’t help and giggle at the situation- visions of what those two brothers might’ve been like as children filling your mind, curiosity growing.

What was he like before Evelyn? Before he married? Before he met her? 

“get out!” Jungkook barks, taking a towel from the sink to hit his brother with it, the laughing older male running off back into the living room, where you follow- carefully carrying the two cups of coffee Jungkook had forgotten in his playful rage against his sibling. 

“Thank you.” His mother says, smiling warmly, while his father only nods, face however gentle, and friendly. You sit down after that, in the corner of the sofa, listening to the two brothers fighting in Jungkook’s office, before his father speaks up.  

“My son mentioned that you two have.. Quite the age gap between you.” He says, and you nod. “And that doesn’t bother you?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“It.. Did. In the beginning.” You admit, his father now visibly interested in your answer as he didn’t expect you to admit something like that so outright. “I was worried that he might.. Think of me as childish. Or that our ambitions might differ too much, since we’re both at different points in our lives.” You explain, his mother now listening in as well. “I mean.. Let's just take family-planning for example. He’s a lot closer to settling down than I am, technically.” You explain, and his mother nods. “But I realized that, if we talk about these issues, we can solve them together. Make compromises, so we can meet in the middle, so to speak.” 

“Has he spoken to you about his.. Past marriage?” His father asks, and you nod. 

“I’ve met his former wife a few times. And I’m.. Somewhat aware of the things that happened in the past- though I’m sure he didn’t tell me everything yet.” You say. “And I respect that. We’re still.. At the very beginning of our relationship after all.” You chuckle a little, nervously, but suddenly, his father smiles. 

“Stop interrogating my girlfriend just because I’m not here.” Jungkook interrupts the conversation, protectively sitting in between his father and you- though that wasn’t the smartest idea, since his father just quietly pats his back rather roughly, making Jungkook complain in embarrassment. “What the fuck dad?” He asks, but his father just laughs. 

“Stop hitting him darling, you’re gonna break his back!” His mother complains, and you can’t help but smile at the mention of that petname- making it clear where Jungkook got the habit from, since he calls you the same most of the time. It’s cute. 

You’re happy to see that he has such a nice family.  

“So, when are you gonna bring a kid into this world, huh?” His brother asks shamelessly, making Jungkook choke on his water. “Hey, come on. I’ve got the second one on the way, you can’t make me do all the work here!” He teases, making Jungkook turn towards you. 

“I’m so sorry- if you want them to leave, just tell me.” He says towards you, but much to his dismay, you shake your head. 

“I don’t mind them.” You say, and his brother grins, before he leans forwards towards you. 

“Did you know that Jungkook used to be scared of the microwave-” Jonghyun starts, and Jungkook throws his head back, groaning in agony.  

All while you can’t help but be happy that his family seems to like you. 

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Later on, once they all left again, he talks to you once more in the living room after the dishes had been washed, and you both had gotten ready to just laze around and go to bed later. “I’m really sorry they showed up unannounced. That was terrible of them-” He shakes his head still, holding you in his arms on the couch while a random TV series plays quietly in the background, commercial break ongoing. “-and I’m also sorry I left you alone with them. I hope they didn’t interrogate you too hard.” 

“It was fine.” You brush off, telling the truth. “We just.. Spoke about the age gap.” You explain, and Jungkook sighs. “And I told them that, you know, yes, it did bother me at first. And I know that it bothered you too.” You admit, making him stare blankly, listening to your words. “But that we.. Work together. If problems occur, we find compromises. Put equal effort into it so we meet in the middle, you know what I mean?” You say, and he nods. 

“Yeah, I see where you’re coming from. What did they answer to that?” He wonders, but you shrug. 

“He just asked if I knew Evelyn, and I said that yes, I’ve met her a few times.” You remember. “And that I know you probably didn’t yet tell me everything, but that it’s fine because neither have I. Since we’re still.. Pretty new.” You offer. “And then you came back, so we didn’t talk further.” 

“My brother can be so terrible, I swear.” He huffs. “Two years older and thinks he’s always got the upper hand in everything..” He mumbles. 

“Well, from what I’ve been told, he is a bit quicker with things than you.” You giggle. “Second marriage, second child-” 

“Second job after he kept slacking off at his first, second house because he got kicked out of the first, second dog because one wasn’t enough-” Jungkook goes on, and you can’t help but laugh out loud. “-Hey, stop laughing about that!” He complains, moving his hands to pinch your sides, only causing your laughter to intensify as you try and slip away from him. But you’re unsuccessful, rather ending up somewhat manhandled down into the couch, with him above you, your wrists pressed into the cushions below you. 

It doesn’t take long for him to lean in and kiss you, the knowledge of everything that happened today settling in. You’ve been so understanding about everything, calm and collected even though he knew that you must’ve been at least somewhat intimidated by the whole situation. You still handled it perfectly in his opinion, facing it all head on. 

He’s so in love with you.  

His kisses slow down after a moment or two- and you know why they do. He’s not really a fan of getting heated on the couch of all places, preferring the bedroom or maybe the shower- and sure, you have indeed gotten rather scandalous in other places of his house before, but if he can control himself, he does.  

Laying next to you, your head on his biceps, he just observes you for a moment before he speaks again.  

“Move in with me.” He says, and you’re caught by surprise at the sudden proposal. “I’ve got.. Enough space. A room you can have just for yourself if you ever want some time to yourself. I can continue renting out your old place too if you’d like.” He tells you, hand resting on your waist. “Just.. I’d like to have you close. Every day.” He says. “And night of course.” 

“I mean.. if you’re okay with that?” You say, unsure. “you don’t have to do it just because.. we’re a couple, you know? I can be.. a little chaotic, and loud, you might not-“ 

“I wouldn’t have proposed the idea if I didn’t want it, darling.” He chuckles, easing your mind quite a bit. “Think about it though, before you answer me now. I realize I might’ve come off a bit.. strong with how I phrased it.” He hums, slowly sitting up again with you next to him. “What I really want to say is.. If you wanted to move in with me, I’d welcome you with open arms so to say.” He offers, and you nod.  

“I’ll think about it.”  

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

“Hm?” You wonder still half asleep, Jungkook right behind you with his hands running over your skin, legs entangled and lips kissing the back of your neck.  

“You’ve been sleeping for ages.” He complains lightly, his own eyes barely open. “been waiting for you to wake up.”  

“..whats.. why?” You ask, moving a little to stretch your legs out.  

“hm, why..” he just repeats, hands traveling further and further until one of them finds its way beneath your light shirt you wear, bare chest warm beneath his palm. It’s clear to you now what exactly he’s been aiming for when waking you up- intentions obvious, especially with the way he presses himself into you from behind.  

You do have to admit, that it’s been a few days since the last time you two got together like this. With some stress at his work and your own life, you didn’t want to bother him too much- rather deciding to let him reach out on his own, so you know that he’s up for it.  

“You smell nice.” Jungkook comments, running his nose over the crook of your neck. “Is that the.. pink bottle you left here last time?” He asks a bit slurred, himself still somewhat asleep.  

“Hmhm.” You nod. “It’s.. yeah. I forgot it.” You explain, moving a bit to give him better access, and also to show that you’re okay with this. “it’s body lotion.”  

“smells better on you than it does on me.” He chuckles. 

“You used it?” You wonder, and he shrugs, before moving to position himself over you, reaching into his bedside table for a condom.  

“Hey you left it here!” He defends himself. “but it didn’t smell as nice on me.” He admits, shrugging before he moves to shed his cotton pajama pants- the shirt long gone, a habit of his during the night.  

“Well, now I’m here.” You say, and he nods, smiling.  

“You are.” He agrees, tapping your hips to make you lift them, his hands pulling down your underwear and sleep shorts off in one go. He gives the condom to you for now, before he lifts your legs over his shoulders, head lowering between your thighs to eat you out. He’s got a habit of holding eye contact with you during the act, and even now, he does so- soaking up every one of your reactions, eager to see you restless beneath his touch.  

This is the type of love he’d hoped for when he married. This is what he thought could grow from nothing.  

But he’s realizing now that that was a mistake- you can’t just hope for the best and then be disappointed when things don’t turn out the way you’d wanted them. There’s got to be effort put into it, and knowing that now makes him accept the fact that his ex wife isn’t the only reason his marriage failed. He himself also made mistakes, many of them- agreeing to going out with her when he didn’t love her being one of them.  

There’s no clear villain and no obvious victim in his story.  

Your skin is soft beneath his hands as he runs them up and down the sides of your legs- body squirming from his actions beneath them, as you experience things you haven’t before. You’ve never really had anyone ever pay so much attention to you in any way- be it sexually or just with the way that he calls daily to make sure he at least checks in with you whenever you’re apart. And thinking about it, there’s nothing speaking against living together- what's really the worst that could happen? 

You’ve been through the worst. You know that Jungkook would never be anything close to that. 

Your hand finds its way into his hair, unsure where else it’s supposed to go- and you’re faintly apologetic about the way you’re most likely tugging on it the second he pushes you over the edge- but he’s visibly uncaring of it, none of it bothering him it seems. He chuckles as he comes back up to you, wiping his face with his hand before he watches you open your eyes again to look at him. “You okay?” He chuckles, and you nod. 

“I want to move in with you.” You say, and he’s caught off guard, eyes wide for a second before he leans back a little to properly look at you.

“You sure?” He wonders, and you nod. 

“Hmhm.” You nod. “I.. Want to.” You tell him, and he smiles, clearly excited.  

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay! Yeah, we can.. Uhm, I mean, I’ve got the next week and a half set for home-office, so I can help you with the furniture?” He proposes, and you laugh, almost in relief, before he steals the still wrapped condom from your hand that's been holding it the entire time, face leaning down to kiss you.

"But first, let me love you some more."

[cherryspicest]

I'm here for you

Part 1 Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader

Might not be the happiest Christmas, but surely she’ll make your holiday count.

Only if you could put in the emptiness of your heart inside the white blanket and leave it under throughout the day, you could’ve done it. Yet it was impossible, only to see yourself sitting on the white comfy bed with a pillow atop your legs, blanket tucked in between and your tummy as you rest your arms over the pillow. The pouring snowflakes outside the window was not enough to count Christmas’ for you—unless she replies back with a text.

You didn’t receive any message from Sullyoon again after she greets you Merry Christmas. Though it is a holiday season, a time where she would spend more of her day with her relatives, her active status that shows online throughout the day clears out the good thoughts running up in your mind.

A few hours ago, you called her friend Lily on the phone to ask about Sullyoon, and told you she is with them while you hear clanking bottles in the background. Even with the urge of asking her to give the phone to her, you rather shrugged it off—letting her enjoy the time with her friends even if she has left you like this. 

Enjoy your Christmas love! Call me if anything happens—You type into your phone, unmotivated

You feel pity for yourself, and yet still rather play stupid with all these scenarios that she would sometimes leave you. Throughout your life, losing your girlfriend is what you swore not to happen. One risky action driven by emotions is a sure path for the end of such promise.

You immediately throw the pillow and the blanket when you hear three soft knocks on the entrance door. Expecting it to be your girlfriend, but rather it was Wonyoung—your best friend—standing in front of you in a tight red dress, enough to shape out the perfect curvature of her body. She carries a paper handbag in the other hand with a small christmas tag stapled in it.

“Merry Christmas!” She greets with a sweet smile. 

Her usual smile - cute voice tone combo she always does never gets tiring. The fact that she only shows that side to you gives you the reason to value it. 

You let her in shortly. Her heels make soft thuds in every of her step while she makes her way towards the kitchen table to place her carriage. When she notices you never had anything to prepare, nor even ingredients and food around the kitchen, she flips around to look at you with widened eyes. 

“No food? You haven’t prepared anything for yourself?” She asks, and you push your lips. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

The silence from you was enough for her to take as she scoffs in disbelief. “That bitch didn’t even visit you here, Y/n?”

“Hey, you can’t call her that. She’s still my girlfriend though.”

“So what?” She rolls her eyes and groans. “Where is she?”

“I’m just letting her enjoy Christmas with her friends right now. If she’s happy there then, can I even do anything? I just want her to be happy.”

“No Y/n, you’re stupid. You’re here fucked up around your small apartment, looking helpless, and expecting her to show up in your door when she entirely chose to stay with her friends..”

“Wonyoung, she’s my girlfriend.”

“As if I care?” She raises an eyebrow. Her voice tone went deep and natural. “Plus I know things better, she’s your girlfriend, I’m your girl-best-friend. No wonder she doesn’t have the word best compared to me—because she’s .”

“Alright, no need to say it again.” You interrupt her, and she smirks.

The amount of slurs she said to your girlfriend was enough to make any guy pissed, though you’re not one of them as you take her words completely normal. That abrasive attitude would always show up whenever Sullyoon does something that she wouldn’t like. Insults, jokes, slurs everywhere like a typical male gaming lobby. 

“Chicken bucket? Fries? Steak? What do you want?” She continues scrolling on her phone, not bothering to look at you. “Caviar? Milk Tea? It’s all in me, don’t care if it's priced like Dior or Versace.”

“It’s your money.

“That’s why I’m asking you? I want my money to be wasted on something that would make you happy at least.”

You sigh. “You’re so cheesy, can you stop it for once.”

“I’m not being cheesy.” She grins. That pissed off look seems to disappear right away. “Just pointing out the reason why I’m asking you that.”

No buts, no what ifs, chicken bucket is what you chose, and Wonyoung came to agree with your decision. Tapping the add to cart, buy, then that’s it, the food will adjust for your lazy asses because you can’t head to the chicken store 2 streets away from your place.

The delivery arrives earlier than expected. There was no reason for Wonyoung to flex the thick amount of folded money inside her wallet before she opened the door—-and yet she still did. That action was unnecessary, but it's typical of her, she’d do such things to prove how lucky you are to be her best friend. 

“Are you attending some red carpet event with that dress?” 

She chuckles while pulling the bucket out from the paperbag. “You like it?”

“Probably yeah, it’s just funny you have to wear some luxurious shit just to visit me here.” You grab a drumstick from the bucket and take a bite. “I look poor around you.”

“I’d still appreciate it though.” She grabs a drumstick for herself too. “By the way, did she even greet you?”

“She did, atleast.”

“You even know the place is? Whom she is with?”

You sigh and grin. “What’s with the interrogation, Wonyoung? You sound like my mom whenever I arrive home.”

She pushes your shoulder, enough to move you an inch away. “Hey, I’m asking you? I don’t need your stupid side comments.”

“Come on, she’s with her friends, that’s it, I know she’d be safe anyways. The place?”

“Green flag Y/n?” 

You cross your arm and smile, proud of being called as one.

“No, you’re stupid. If I could only hit you with my heels right now, I would have right now.”

“Go ahead.”

“Uh? You’re really challenging me to do so? You know I don’t say shit that I wouldn’t do.”

You keep your attention on the TV in the living room . “Go ahead.”

Wonyoung’s words were never meant to only scare you away. You ready yourself when she puts down her drumstick over the table, and reaches for her heel. She raises her shoes at you, and you manage to grab her wrist at time. You feel her pushing you more and more, not minding what and where the direction you’re both into.

“You’re so weak, Wony.” You tease, and she lets out a hiss. Her narrowed eyes show how much she wants to win against you. 

“I hate you so much.” 

She groans, and seems to boost up her inner strength. You feel her force get heavier. In a moment, you start to move backwards, her expression is enough for you to see her desire to contest against you. It all stops when your back meets the refrigerator.

Your world seems to pause, everything feels slow. While your grasps are at both Wonyoung’s raised wrists, you didn’t realize how close you were both. Both of your eyes gazing into each other like two interlinked bridges that never get separated. Your breaths are the only ones you can hear between, yet it never stopped you from admiring your best friend’s visual.

You let go of her wrists, it was a weird feeling to remain that composure. The sense of awkwardness struck out of nowhere yet it is a better thing to shrug it off. 

When you make your way back to the table, she follows shortly in a slow pace like a little girl who broke a glass. She grabs her paper bag closer to her, revealing a wine bottle in her hand just as she pulls it out. It was the typical holiday type wine that rich people give their close ones, obviously the same level of status as them where you can’t relate. 

“Someone wasted an amount of stash again.” You joke.

“It’s just wine.” She rolls her eyes. “Stop acting like you never went to the same school as me. You think you forgot how your mom even paid for my private taxi when it was too late at night already.”

“It’s my mom, not me.” You notice her wandering around the kitchen as if she’s finding something. “And, the wine glasses are in the 4th cabinet up there.”

Clumsy Wonyoung as usual, always the struggle of finding something. She’d be losing her pens every single time back in freshman years where she’ll make up an excuse of her pen teleporting in an unknown dimension.

She hands you the glass, then pours the wine carefully in it. She does one for herself then motions to clank with you in which you accepted.

“A great holiday ahead.” She smiles, then sips into her wine glass. 

She’s too luxurious for you. The way you’d drink the wine glass like a milk in a cup, hoping it doesn’t look embarrassing, while she drinks it too formally as if you’re a CEO of some known brand.

Lowkey, you’re expecting some message from your girlfriend on your phone—-yet there was none. A single vibration from your pocket is enough to keep you alive—and there was none even. At least, Wonyoung is here to keep you stable and promising, a true friend who’d never leave you.

“Fuck, the hell even happened to her,” you mutter, pertaining to your girlfriend.

“Sorry?” Wonyoung pauses. 

She notices the phone in your hand which gave the reason for her smile to disappear slowly. She knows it, always your stupidity, but rather not show it to you and decided to continue sipping in her wine glass. 

“Ok, let’s do this,” says Wonyoung as she unexpectedly snatches your phone, then hides it behind her. “No phones tonight, we enjoy this day together like how we used to do when we were still at the same school.”

“Come on, give it back.” You walk closer, effortfully trying to grab your phone back.

“What if I don’t?” 

She places the phone on her other hand, giving you a hard time reaching it unless you wrap your hand around hers.

“Friendship over then.” 

“Is that so?” She stretches her arm down. 

That phone is what all you wanted, and the urge of snatching it back from her is heating you up. No matter how awkward things may be, you come closer and grab her wrist behind, ignoring the close proximity between you and her as if you are cuddling like couples. Her grip on your phone was surprisingly strong that it might take you a little why before you can forcefully free it. 

She looks at you in mischief, then a smirk forms into the corner of her lips. 

“Let’s break our friendship then,” she says softly, and you feel the warmth of her breath on your neck, “chingu geu isang-eul wonhanikkayo”.

“So what did you just say to me?”

“Want me to translate it for you?” 

A quick second glance on your lips, then she leans forward to press her lips into yours. There was no time to react, nor escape in this scenario. You feel your heart skip a beat when you feel her lips on yours, slowly accepting the fact she’s kissing you right now.

The kiss was getting deeper. She slowly wraps her arms around your neck while she pulls you even closer. You feel her tongue asking for entrance, and there was no reason for not to welcome it. She lets out a soft moan when you wrap your hands around her hips. Now it’s a make out session—with your alluring, old best friend that you’ve known more than any you’ve met.

You wanted it so badly. These hormones heat you up as if you wanted to get undressed and finish right away. Yet there was a hold back, a sense of stop like there were chains around your wrists, no matter how much you wanted to continue, it does not let you.

Placing your fingers on her chin was enough for her to stop and pull away. 

“Wonyoung, I can’t. I’m sorry, this is ridiculous.” You shake your head while you avoid her eyes, pulling away as you distance yourself. “I can’t cheat on my girlfriend, you know this is wrong right?” 

“I know it’s wrong,” she contests. “But that’s the only way for you to understand my feelings. 

“Wony–”

“Yes, you’re right. I fucking love you, and I don’t understand why do you have to be numb throughout the years we’ve been together.” She keeps her eyes locked at you. “Because every time I confess, you always think I’m fooling with you, or either way I’m drunk, crazy, or stressed. And here my stupid ass is going to pretend it is because I don’t want to embarrass myself!”

The atmosphere between you two seemed to set upside down when you once heard that deep natural voice from her—it was a cue for her seriousness. Your feelings are mixed like scattered tin cans, nothing specific, hard to distinguish. You just wanted to leave and smell the fresh air outside to calm yourself down, yet you didn’t want to leave Wonyoung like this either.

“I don’t understand.” There’s nothing you could do but leave your mouth open. “That must be the wine.”

She forces a smile, scoffing as she begins to nod lightly while her eyes appear teary. “Yeah, must be the wine, this fucking wine. It’s always me or any shit you would see just to make me look crazy.”

“Come on, do we have to come at this point? Wonyoung you know it’s hard for me to understand this, I have a girlfriend, and . . . “

She picks up her small sling bag from the bar chair, and looks at you, fixing her hair. “I know, you have Sullyoon. It’s my fault as well, I shouldn’t have been this fragile likewise.” She sniffs and moves a few strands in her hair. “I think it’s better for me to go, Merry Christmas.”

“Wonyoung.”

Calling her name was not enough to make her stop from walking out of your apartment. The silence was loud, and you flowed with it.

You find yourself standing emptily  like a mannequin as you watch the door close itself. Everything that happened flows quickly, one an action that can’t be undone, and it’s all gone. That kiss is enough to change how you see your best friend anymore.

[steddieas-shegoes]

new things

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'winter sports'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 732 words | no cw | tags: modern au, slice of life, hockey parents trying to navigate figure skating bless them

⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️

Rory barrels through the front door. Eddie follows behind at a slower pace, looking somber and resigned.

Steve watches as Rory runs to her room without even saying hi. Eddie meanders to the kitchen bar and sits in his usual spot.

He gently puts his forehead against the counter and sighs.

“She wants to try figure skating.”

Steve’s eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“She…who? Rory?” Steve asks because there’s no way Eddie could mean their daughter.

The girl once complained that figure skates were sent to ruin the ice for hockey players.

Eddie nods, not lifting his head from the counter.

“Rory Munson wants to try figure skating?” Steve asks for further clarification.

Eddie nods again, but lifts his head up this time. He looks like he’s in mourning.

“What brought this on?”

“They’re offering three free lessons to any hockey player who wants to try,” Eddie explains. “Ryenn is trying it so now she wants to.”

“But…”

“Dad!” Rory yells as she runs from her room. “I’m gonna do figure skating!”

“Um.”

Eddie raises his brow at Steve to silently tell him to be more encouraging, which is bold coming from the man with a red mark on his forehead from the emotional support countertop he was just laying on.

“Are you sure you wanna have toe picks?” Steve settles on, which is the best he can do right now.

“The coach said I’ll get used to them,” Rory shrugs. “If I like the free lessons, it’s only half price to do the beginner program!”

Steve nods, already doing the mental calculations for the cost plus the time minus his sanity equals burnout.

“What’s for supper?” She asks, already moving on from this jarring conversation.

“Uh, I’m making chicken parm,” Steve’s still lost in thought as he speaks. He looks back over at the stove where he was just about to start frying the chicken cutlets before they walked in. “Homework?”

“Just math,” she says as she looks at the contents by the stove. “Can I have two chickens?”

“Sure,” he says because she’s a growing kid and because he knows she probably still won’t even finish one.

She walks back to her room, presumably to do homework, and Steve tries to put his mind on the task at hand.

“This must be genetics from the other side,” Eddie interrupts Steve’s thoughts. “You would never have this in your DNA.”

“Have what?”

“A figure skater.”

Steve snorts. “Baby, she’s not gonna like it.”

“You hope.”

Steve sighs. “Well, kinda. Balancing that schedule on top of hockey would be a nightmare. Plus having to deal with figure skating parents and hockey parents makes me nauseous.”

Eddie nods in silent agreement.

“But if it makes her happy…”

“Ugh! I know!” Eddie puts his head back down on the counter. “If she’s happy, I’m happy. But why can’t she be happy with just hockey?”

“She might be, baby,” Steve reminds him. “And she’ll always love hockey most.”

“We hope.”

****

Rory hated figure skating, but she stuck it out for the three lessons because Ryenn did.

Steve smiles as the last lesson finishes up with Rory once again forgetting about the toe picks and falling on her hands. It’s not like he ever wants to see her fail, but he saw the schedule for the beginner program. He likes having two nights a week at home with Eddie and Rory. The program would take those right off his calendar.

She comes off the ice with a frown.

Steve unlaces her skates even though she can do it herself.

Her arms are crossed over her chest.

“I don’t like figure skating,” she finally admits.

“Okay,” Steve replies.

“Okay?” Rory sounds unsure now, less mad and more worried that Steve might be mad.

“Yeah, green bean. I could tell your heart wasn’t in it. No harm in trying, though. Now you know.”

Rory nods, relaxing as she slips her sneakers on.

On their way out of the rink, she points out a poster that shows curling lessons every Saturday.

“Look! Only $10!”

Steve resists a groan as he turns to the reception desk to sign her up for a lesson.

“You and daddy can do it with me!” She says as she bounces on her feet next to him.

He smiles at the front desk person and sighs.

“Three for the curling lessons please.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Bump in the night

Written for day 29 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles, and the December round of the @stmonstercalendar

Prompts: Fairytale and Krampus

Relationships: Pre-Steddie; Steve & Dustin

Rated: T

Tags: Kidnapping; Krampus!Eddie; Good babysitter Steve; Dustin is a little shit; crack (somehow, idk. it grew a plot again)

Running in snow is a bitch on the legs. 

By the time Steve leaves the village behind, the moon is dipping behind the trees and his legs are screaming at him to stop. He doesn’t. It has started snowing again, and he knows that it won’t be long before the tracks are gone. He’ll have no way of catching up to them, then.

He’s gonna fucking murder Dustin. 

Provided he manages to save him and they don’t both die of pneumonia. 

He pushes himself to go faster, and when he reaches the top of the hill, he spots a figure ahead of him. A dark, hulking shape standing out against the moonlit winter landscape. Even from the distance, he can see the pair of horns protruding from its head - long and curved and ending in wicked points. 

Steve gulps. 

Sure, he knows the stories. About things that go bump in the night, about monsters creeping down into the human settlements from the mountains to steal misbehaved children from their beds and carry them off into the darkness. He used to roll his eyes at them, think of them as mere fairytales made up by his father and the village elders.

Looks like he owes them an apology. 

He mentally schedules that for after he murders Dustin. 

“Hey,” His voice slaps off the trees as a distorted echo. “Hey, fuckface!” 

The figure stops. Then, very slowly, it turns. It’s hard to make out features through the night and the snow, so all Steve can see are its eyes. Two deep, dark pools peering back at him through a curtain of tangled hair. 

Steve is rushing down the hill before it occurs to him he didn’t even bring a weapon. Not breaking his run, he snatches a thick branch off the ground, twirling it high over his head and lunging at the creature with a hoarse scream. 

“Hey, careful with that! You could take out an eye.” 

Steve freezes. The branch drops. 

“Wha-” he croaks. “Wait, you can talk?” 

The thing rolls its eyes at him. Now that he’s closer, it turns out that its face is … unexpectedly human. Large, brown eyes and a pair of surprisingly pretty lips framed by a spill of dark, chaotic curls. Almost like any other guy you might meet in the marketplace - if it weren’t for the pair of horns attached to his head and the shaggy fur covering his body from the shoulders down, and the fact that his legs end in fucking hooves. 

“Yes, I can talk,” says the guy … the creature … Steve is so confused right now. “I’m a monster, not an idiot, y’know?” 

“Sorry,” says Steve automatically. “I didn’t mean to- … cut that crap, what did you do to Dustin? I know you took him, where-” 

“I’m here,” says a disembodied voice. Steve flinches, spinning in a startled circle. “Steve, is that you?” 

There’s a weird sort of echo to his voice, like he’s in a tiny room or other confined space. 

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps. “Did you eat him already?” 

“I didn't eat him,” says monster dude. He sounds appalled by the concept. “He's in here.” 

He jerks back his thumb - longer than a human one and ending in a wicked claw - to point at the giant wicker basket strapped to his back. 

“You put him in a basket? Like what, a chicken?” 

Monster dude scoffs. “I sure as hell am not dragging him all the way. They tend to kick and bite.” 

Then, evidently deciding that Steve isn’t worth the trouble, he turns and resumes his way through the snow. 

“Wait,” Steve blurts. “Where are you going? Let him go, right now!” 

“No can do,” monster dude shrugs. “He’s been the naughtiest kid in all the valley, and rules are rules.” 

“Oh, c’mon!” says the basket. “I’m not that bad.” 

“Oh yeah?” monster dude says, producing a rumbled piece of parchment from somewhere in his shaggy fur. Does he have pockets in there? “Let’s see. It says here you talked back to your teachers.” 

“Because they were glaringly wrong. Was I supposed to just let that slide?” 

“You fell asleep in church.” 

“Not my fault the priest sucks at public speaking.” 

“You blew up the school building. Dude, seriously?” 

“That was an accident, you can’t hold that against me!” 

“Woah, wait!” says Steve, who just spotted the curly letters scrawled onto the parchment. “I know that handwriting! Did my father give you this?” 

Monster dude’s eyes go wide. Then, before Steve can so much as blink, he jumps. Steve yelps as he hits the ground, claws easily as long as his own fingers digging into his arms, pressing him down into the snow. 

“Hey,” Dustin yells from within the basket. “What are you doing? What’s the ruckus about?”

“You are the mayor’s son?” 

Steve blinks. “I- … what? What does that have to do with any- ow, shit!”

He tries to wiggle out of the claw’s hold, but they tighten their grip. Monster dude’s face has twisted into a manic grin, revealing a row of gleaming fangs and a long, pointed tongue. 

“This is brilliant,” he growls, more to himself than to anyone else. Steve winces as he is grabbed by the collar and yanked upright. 

“Hey, let go of me, what are you-” Something cold and heavy closes around his wrists. When he looks down, it is to find his hands bound together by a pair of large, rusty manacles. “What the actual fuck? What kind of sick weirdo are you?” 

“The worst there is,” monster dude smirks. “And you, big boy … You might just be my ticket to freedom, if I play my cards right.” 

He turns to go again, and Steve is helpless to do anything but stumble behind him as he tugs on the chain. The fresh snow covers their tracks as they disappear into the night.

Something, something, and then Dustin and his monsterfucker dads unveil how the village elders have been disposing of bothersome kids for years.

More holiday drabbles

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Humping it up on hump day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You taste the cocktail and make a face. As sweet as it is, the alcohol is stringent in your throat. You set the glass down as Bucky’s fingers tap on his pint. You glance up, surprised to find him watching you. 

"Don't like it?" He asks. 

"Mm, no, I mean yes. No." You stutter out. "It's good, I just... don't drink much." 

"She's a good girl." Your mom teases. "I always had to push her out the door. Oh, don't even ask about prom." She grabs his forearm and cackles. "You would think buying a dress would be fun. Nope. I think she'd have rather gone to the dentist." 

Your cheeks turn hot. Four years past and you still cringe at the fitting room torture. You look down and fiddle with the cutlery wrapped in a red napkin. You really wish she wouldn't treat you like a child. You suppose at times you might act like one. 

"Those things can be tough. I barely remember mine. Only went so my buddy didn't feel like such a loser," Bucky shrugs. "But look at how far you've come. I'm sure high school is like a blip on the radar. Now the real fun begins, huh?" 

You know he's trying to help and you appreciate. But it only makes your chest tighten. The dread throbs in your temples. Life, it's all ahead of you but you have no idea where to start. 

"Yeah, I... I barely remember." You talk to the table. 

"She's a smart one," your mom praises. "I really lucked out. No teenage angst, no rebellion." 

You chew your lip and pick at the trim of the table. You sound lame. You are and you never minded the safety of that trait. Still, you'd like to be known as more than a boring little bookworm. 

"Okay, here we are." The server rescues you from further humiliation. "Chicken caesar." 

She puts your salad in front of you, "cheese steak sammy and macaroni salad." She lays a plate in front of Bucky, "and the sizzling fajitas." 

Another server appears with a wooden plank, set with a cast iron pan atop it and fixings; tortillas, salsa, guac. It smells delicious but you know it's too early for all that. You'd be even sleepier and you still have to get unpacked.  

"Enjoy," the waitress smiles and struts away. 

You unwrap your cutlery and use the knife and fork to shred the lettuce. You should've known better than to order salad. It's always so awkward to eat with others around to see. 

"Mm, pretty good," Bucky says. "Lauren, how's that extravaganza? Really went all out." 

"Wasn't expecting all this." Your mother scoops grilled peppers into a tortilla, daintily with her fork as her nails shine in the light. You remember when you asked to get a manicure and she said they were impractical... 

She's changed but you don’t feel all that different than when you left for college. Maybe you should have tried harder. Well, it's not like your life is over. Far from. 

"How about you?" Bucky prompts and once more you meet his gaze with a startled blink. You nod and swallow. 

"Good. Just boring old salad." You say. 

"Always chicken caesar," your mother chirps. "Creature of habit. Don't worry. You'll hardly be surprised. By tonight, she'll have one of her books and you won't hear another peep." 

You bite down on your tongue. You're not sure anymore if she's bragging or she's chiding you. Her life is so exciting now. Her hair is highlighted, her nails are filled, and her makeup... she's actually wearing makeup. 

"Didn't think you could work with those." You say as she catches her nail on her napkin. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm not in the ward anymore. Sweetie, didn't I tell you? I do clinicals now. I just show the new ones what to do. Not much hands-on stuff." 

"Uh, I remember. Sorry." 

"Too sharp," Bucky chuckles. "Can't even hold her hand without getting clawed." 

She jabs him with her shaped tip and he grunts. They laugh together and you look around. You're the sore thumb sticking out. Ever the third wheel. Even when you had 'friends', you sat on the sidelines, confused by their inside jokes. 

"It's very good. Thank you." You sit forward and focus on the salad. The sooner this is over, the sooner you can do exactly what your mom expects. Hide with a book. Alone. 

🩵

Home is always a comforting sight but not as much as you expect. A flicker of guilt sparks in your chest. Bucky just bought you lunch, you shouldn’t be so negative. Still, you just want to unwind after a long day of traveling. 

As much as you want him to just go, you would never say as much. Your mom seems happy with him. She even seems healthier. It’s nice to see her taking care of herself, she’s done enough of that for others for too long. 

You get out of the car but Bucky’s too fast. He has you bag in his hand before you can react to the trunk opening. He smiles and insists, “I got it. You lead the way.” 

“Mm, I could nap about now,” your mother calls over the car roof. 

You agree internally. The whole train ride, you looked forward to burying yourself in blankets and leaving the world behind. It would be rude to do so with company around, even if they aren’t yours.  

You follow your mom to the front door and she unlocks it with a yawn. You enter and slip your shoes off on the mat. Things are different. Not too different, you can’t quite place everything. Yet you notice that the coat rack has been replaced with mounted hooks across the wall and the rug at the bottom of the stairs is new. 

“Oh!” Your mom spins, surprising you before you can sneak past her. “I forgot about your surprise!” 

You look at her then over your shoulder at Bucky as he plunks down your bag. You wait for him to respond. He just offers a small curve of his lips. You turn back. 

“You,” your mom taps your nose. “Come on. Ah,” she waves around you at Bucky, “bring her bag with you.” 

Your mom grabs your arm and ushers you upstairs. You can’t resist, too swept up in fatigue and confusion. He follows behind you. What’s happening? 

“Okay. I hope you like it,” she goes to your door and your stomach flips. Oh no, what did they do? She swings the door open and backs up, waving inside, “tada!” 

You hesitate but make yourself step into the doorway. You glance around and your mouth slowly falls open. You blink at the room. Wow. 

It’s not awful, just another change you’re not ready for. Instead of your old rectangle bookcases, new circle ones have been built into the walls; white instead of brown. Your bed is the same but the wood is newly re-stained and the bedding is shade of pink you wouldn’t necessarily choose. A heart shaped rug is spread across the floor and your previous desk has been replaced with one that folds into the wall. 

There is an entirely new piece that stands out. A vanity in the corner. The mirror is the same shape as the carpet and the stool has a fluffy seat. 

“Oh, wow...” you utter as you step further inside. 

“Bucky is so handy! I always wanted to do this but I didn’t know where to start. Oh, just wait until you see his place,” she rambles as she trails you. “He built the whole thing himself.” 

“I had help,” he tuts and sets your bag down. “Tried not to do too much but just added a fresh coat to everything.” 

You’re silent.  

“Sweetie?” Your mom touches your arm. 

“I’m... surprised. That’s all.” 

“She’s speechless, Bucky!” She squeals and claps her hands. “I knew she’d love it.” 

“Heh, yeah. Well, I hope it isn’t too much.” He rubs his neck as he looks around. “You can let me know. I can change whatever you need.” 

“No, no, it’s really nice. Like really. I...” you wring a finger in your other hand. “Thank you.” 

“Lauren,” he sidles past you and nudges your mother gently. “Why don’t we let her get settled in? I’m sure she’s beat from the road.” 

“Right, right,” she beams around the room before she faces him. “Of course.” She glances over at you, “sweetie, let us know if you need anything, okay?” 

“Mom, I’m fine.” You show your teeth sheepishly and hover around the wall. 

Bucky leaves first, your mom following as she cranes to stare at the room. She leaves you with an excited wiggle and you go to close the door behind her. Once it’s shut, you sigh. You weren’t ready for any of this. Somehow coming home has proven even more disjointing than going away to college. 

You plod to the bed and flop onto it. You roll onto your back and let your eyes rove. It is so cute. You would have killed for a room like this in high school, even on campus. Yet it does seem a lot. You’re sure once you get a job, your mom doesn’t expect you to stay too long. 

Maybe this is a good thing. A little less pressure on you to get out but not exactly. With Bucky hanging around, you can’t help but be in the way. You’re not the only one who needs to adjust to your return. 

You can worry about it all later. For now, you need to close your eyes and stop thinking. 

🩵

The afternoon wears on as you dawdle away on your phone. You can barely keep your eyes open as the screen glares back at you. It’s almost six when you make yourself stop the addictive word game.  

You lay listless, trying to urge yourself to get up and do something. You lose the battles as your eyes close and you drift off without realising it. In your subconscious, you’re just as you are in reality. Just lying there, motionless and mindless. 

You wake slowly as pressure squeezes in your pelvis. Your bladder forces you to action. Even with the painful weight throbbing inside, you move without urgency. You sit up slowly, dizzy from the unexpected doze. You stand and shuffle to the door. 

You leave it open as you go into the hall and let your feet guide you. Habit takes down to the bathroom door and you reach for the handle. It turns from the other side and you recoil in surprise. Bucky stops short as he emerges and apologises. 

You stammer as you gape back at him. Somehow after the whirlwind morning, you forgot all that change. In your grogginess, you didn’t see the new walls or the white bookcases or think. 

“S...Sorry...” you murmur.  

You’re consumed in radiating heat as you stare at the stubble along his neck. Any lower and he might be embarrassed. He is shirtless after all. You’ve never been the best at looking people in the face but you have no choice. You examine his silver-streaked hair, slightly tussled, and his grizzly beard with its dusting of white along his chin. 

You step back as he raises a palm and dips his head. “No problem. Gotta get used to each other, I guess. Bad timing, is all.” 

“Right,” you agree dully. 

He looks back at you and his forehead creases. “You okay?” 

You wince. “Yeah, why?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Just... you look... a little out of it.” 

“I fell asleep,” you run your fingers along your throat nervously. The motion catches his eyes. Their startling blue hue gleam in the light. 

“Right. I figured you needed it. Long ride...home.” His gaze flicks up to meet yours. “Sorry you’re stuck here with us boring old people. You probably miss it already.” 

You shrug, “not really.” 

“Not really? What about your friends?” He rests his hand on the door frame and leans. 

“Didn’t... just study buddies. Classmates.” You look away and shift as your bladder aches. 

He clears his throat and stands straight. He steps out of the frame and you jump at his sudden movement. He touches your hip to keep from colliding with you and sidles by. 

“I’ll just get out of your way, baby girl,” He squeezes, his hand lingering for a moment. “Welcome home.” 

He lets go and turns, strutting down the hall as you stand frozen. You hurry forward and shut yourself in the bathroom as you scramble with the sudden agonizing pang. You don’t have time to think, you have to go! 

[noellawrites]

Y Tú, Mamá? Part 2 - Yandere!Lalo Salamanca x reader

part one linked here

summary: you wake up in a strange place and Lalo is the first person you see.

warnings: kidnapping, forced restraint

tags: @jaythegreat @gothams-gotchya @oceandolores @matt-lipstick @joonie7007 @mavericksicybabe

author’s note: the two year wait is finally over! sorry it’s so short. if anyone has any more ideas on how to continue this or what they’d like to see, please let me know! :)

Your evil, sadistic and wickedly smart husband had eyes on you every moment of every day.

And, in your momentary lapse of judgement, you had forgotten that. Lalo never let you out of his sight without a few of his men keeping eyes on you and his precious daughter.

After calling Saul’s girlfriend and setting up a meeting, you walked with Leticia hand-in-hand out to your car.

Before you even knew what was happening, Lalo’s men grabbed you and threw a bag over your head. The last sound you heard was Lettie screaming as your world went dark.

—

You woke up to the sound of birds chirping and children giggling. As you looked around the room, something about it was strangely familiar.

The mix of Southwestern and Mexican artwork, the patchwork quilt on the bed, even the view of the countryside outside of the window.

You looked down at the chains binding you to the bed and realized that this was Lalo’s house in Chihuahua. You were in Mexico.

“Good morning, my love,” Lalo cooed as he opened the bedroom door, a glass of water in his hand.

His unmistakable musk followed him, expensive cologne of tobacco and leather. Your body shook with fear each time he took a step closer.

“Lalo… why are we here? Where’s Lettie?”

“Lettie is fine, she’s with Abuelita and her cousins. Now, are you going to apologize?” your husband said, an edge to his tone.

He crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow as he stares at you. You try your hardest to sit up, chains rattling as your limbs move.

“You don’t understand how hard this is for me, Lalo! I haven’t been able to see my family in years and your family hates me! You treat me like a pet! I’m tired of it!”

“How hard this is for you? Mi amor, I take care of everything for you. You do not have to work. You do not slave away. You simply watch after and grow our little ones,” he stated, taking a step closer.

“I never wanted this, Lalo,” you sighed, tears building up in your eyes.

“So I should’ve left you there, frying chicken for Gustavo? Suffering, struggling to get by?” he scoffed, shaking his head at how stupid you were.

“I don’t want to argue anymore, I’m tired and I’m cramping,” you groaned, trying to adjust and allow your stomach to rest comfortably. Your child seemed to be kicking up a storm in there.

Lalo walked up to you, eyes bearing into yours, and leans in to kiss you on the lips.

“Eduardo Junior should be here soon,” he says with a smile and a gentle rub on your stomach.

“Lettie’s gonna be so excited,” you say softly, trying to crack a smile.

Giving birth to your daughter at nineteen was a traumatic experience, to say the least. Especially with the way Lalo had kept you locked up.

And now, looking down at your chains, you suspected you would be put back under strict watch, though now he had his entire family to keep watch over you.

“Are you feeling okay?” Lalo asked, forehead wrinkling in concern. Before you could respond, he sat down next to you on the bed, resting his hand on the swell of your stomach.

“Yeah, I just— Lalo, do you think you might let me see my family sometime? I want them to meet Lettie and—“

“Mi amor, your family is right here in Mexico. Now, it will be so much easier to see Abuelita, the cousins, and all our nieces and nephews,” he smiled, gently rubbing your baby bump again.

“Lalo,” you said gently, “I want to go back to New Mexico. We can’t stay here, the kids—“

“The kids will love it here. Lettie’s Spanish will improve, they can be around family. I can protect all four of us better out here, hm?”

Lalo looked at you expectantly, and you knew in that moment that you will not be returning to the United States anytime soon. Lalo, the father and husband, always had the last word.

[rheiple]

Attention Seeker

-OneShot

▪︎SUMMARY↦ Why is he following and helping you around with every chance he gets?

▪︎WARNING/s↦ None

▪︎CHARACTER/s↦ Eclipse, Reader

▪︎AUTHOR'S NOTE↦ Gago ang tagal ko nang hindi nagsusulat,, well anyways this the Eclipse wanting reader's attention, the first thing I needed to do at the poll.

I'm not really satisfied with the out come, but I wanted to post it not instead of letting it rot in my notes, and also I might not do the other fics I've planned at the poll, if i did write them then its gonna be for a long time

I've noticed that whenever i write, when I'm passionate about something I noticed that my writing looks good(?)

But when I force myself to write its basically shit, and this Fic is probably one of the few sjit fics I've written

So yea I hope you don't mind

“…It’s really dark in here.. Mind if you shine your eye lights over here bud?”

The sound of metal clinking represents the movement of your very tall and lanky companion.  With it’s big bright eyes, you’re able to be see the injured Helpy trying to move it’s way towards a vent.

Here in the storage room, it’s very hard to move and see with how many piled stuff are stored in this small room. You’re surprised that He managed to cramp himself inside here.

Eclipse, your ‘new' friend has been tagging along with you ever since your shift has started.

You don’t really know why- or maybe you do. Perhaps it’s because he’s still new with his surroundings in this Pizza Plex. Couldn’t really blame him, and it’s not like you mind his company anyways. You just found it a little strange.. and maybe cute.

You went to carry the small bear in your arms, you heard a little hiss coming from the taller one. You eyed him as you put Helpy on a table.

Noticing you making eye contact with him, he grinned from ear to ear, he lets out a creepy glitchy giggle. It’s like he’s drunk on something.

Honestly though, you want to have a taste with whatever he’s drunk with. It’d be a good stress reliever for at the moment. But oh well, no matter, you have at least 30 minutes until it’s your break time. You could pull this through.

Just like what you keep saying to yourself for the previous days.

Holding the hammer up high, you gave Helpy a little warning. Knowing he’s been given the ability to feel pain and all. It’s creepy and sad knowing this bot's cursed ability is used to train newbies. You also wondered how on earth are they able to program that.

“All right Helpy, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this and tell you it’s gonna hurt just a little. It’s actually gonna hurt really bad but I need you to be brave for me ok?”

He's shaking, but he nodded his head.

“…Ok, on the count of one… two…”

You aimed the hammer a little close to his knee.

“And…Three-"

Eclipse hold the back of the hammer.

“Wha- Eclipse? What’s wrong?”

He gently took the hammer out of your hand. His other hand softly patting your head.

And immediately slammed it on baby bear bear's knee.

“OH MY GOD!”

While Helpy screamed because of the sudden pain, you screamed in fright because of how loud and painful Helpy's scream is. Eclipse took care of the situation by putting some kind of mask that emits special smoke to calm him down, and put a bandaid on his knee.

His other hand went to give him a lollipop.

You only looked at him flabbergasted. And he only smiled at you.

“Work is over.. Break now..”

One of his hands took yours and led you to the cafeteria.

.

.

.

Well this is humiliating.

You ignore the stares of your co-workers, glaring at them if they ever so much as chuckled at your current predicament.

He held the spoon filled with fried rice and chicken, the lunch you packed for yourself and tried to feed you. He’s making you look like a baby god dammit! You glared right up at him and gently smacked away the spoon. “Eclipse, you’re kinda making me look like a fool here…”

The celestial robotic tilted its head, he slowly brought back the spoon close to your mouth. His other hand  holding your chin, trying to pry your mouth open. “…ahh”

You took a grip on his hand and lowered it down where he couldn’t reach your chin once again. He didn’t seem to mind, as he gladly took your hand and intertwined it with his slim fingers instead. He began to rub your hand with his thumb as best as he could.

With a sigh, you took the spoon and placed it on your lunch box. You look at Eclipse and hold his other hand. His rays slowly started moving at the initiated contact. “Look man..” You start off, letting out your thoughts and feelings was really hard for you. You’ve never thought you’d even do it to someone like Eclipse, considering he probably doesn’t know the most of what your saying unless you explained it but.. At least he had sympathy, you wouldn’t be able to find that in most people nowadays. That’s probably why you feel safe sharing your thoughts and feelings to him.

“Eclipse…You know I really really appreciate you helping me around stuff n all but. I kind of feel like you’re just… Babying me at this point.”

He emits a low mechanical whine, you could feel the slight tightness of his hands. “…Not intentional.. wanted to help you… get work done…”

“Awwe, thanks buddy.” You gently squeezed his hands and did the same thing Eclipse did with your hand earlier. “…But are you sure that’s the only reason? I noticed that.. You’ve been a little passive aggressive with the other bots.. Whenever I focus on them instead of you.”

With your confrontation, he looks to the side and whistled out some playful toons.

You confirmed that being rough with Helpy earlier was intentional on his part.

You let go of his hands to put yours on your hips. Giving him the all knowing stare, you called to him in a accusing manner. He only grinned widely at the mention of his name. You guessed that scaring a robot wouldn’t really work considering with looks alone, he’s the scary one than you.

“…Are you jealous?”

“…no..”

“You’re lying.”

“Not lying… only fibbing.”

You scratched your head and raised a brow. “But why? Why are you jealous?”

The tall robot leaned in to hug you. You went to sit on his lap. His faceplate rotated from left to right. “…love your eyes. Better on me.. than on them..”

You snickered and brought a hand up to your face. “Oh my god.. you wanted my attention?” You  seem to get the memo as he purred in delight at your question. “..Oh Eclipse.”

You pry yourself off to stand and look at him, cupping his face with your small hands. As expected he leaned in to your touch. “You didn’t have to go through all that way just to get my attention you know that?” Seriously, he really shouldn’t have.

He caused hell to the other bots, he’s scary when he’s jealous.

“If you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked! You know I wouldn’t say no..”

He took a hold of your hand with his, and looked at you with bright purple eyes.

“May I… have your eyes on me?” You grinned and kissed his teeth. “Of course..”

He began to stand up, surprising you by picking you up. You didn’t know where your going, but you assumed in one of the dark places where no one could find you. You’re glad you play a vital role at your job, or else you would’ve been fired with the amount of time you’ve went missing during your working hours.

You didn’t noticed, but Eclipse surely did, of a certain robot hanging from the ceiling observing him with envy.

The moon themed animatronic crossed his arms. “…So this is what our star has been wasting their time on..”

‘No fair, no fair! Why spend time with a bootleg version of us?!'

It’s as if Eclipse heard their thoughts, one of his hands gave them the rude gesture from behind.

Moon clicked his tongue. “So…that’s how you want to play…”

He’s been playing unfair for the past few days! Always sabotaging their plans so he could have you in his arms! They tried so, so many times to get your attention. Like making so many messes in the Daycare for you to help them clean it, they made gifts so they could see your flustered face, and they even broke themselves for you to fix them.

Not only did the metal prick cleaned the Daycare, fixed them instead of you- which they much rather prefer,  he stole their gifts, lying to you that he was the one who made it instead of them! He is such a big fat liar! A phoney!!

He could imagine his Sunny counter part walking around and huffing in annoyance. ‘Oh the nerve of him to do that! When I get my hands on our star once again he’ll be begging us to let him see her! And even then it’d be over my shut downed body if he ever thought I’d agree!'

The lunar jester is pretty sure the Eclipse would just control their minds to scrap themselves up, before they could even think of hiding away their star.. As much as he wanted to, he and Sun knew it’d just make you sad if you found out they’re not on good terms.

So they’re the ones who tried to give them the time he needed with you but, they’re just abusing their kindness at this point. They need to hatch up a plan to have you back in their arms sooner of later.

The moon slowly backed away by crawling. “…Hoping to see that soon…” He went back to his patrols for now.

[includedisco]

Title: From Guns to Roses

Characters: Fadel, Style, Bison, Kant

Pairing: FadelStyle, KantBison

Fandom: The Heart Killers

Tags: First Date, Fluff, Flirting, Alternate Universe- Different Meeting, Eventual romance, Match-maker KantBison

warnings: none

Word Count: 1,610

When Fadel’s brother, Bison, strong-arms him into dating, the former hit man reluctantly agrees. Enter Style, a whirlwind of chaos and charm. Will Fadel’s tough exterior withstand Style’s infectious energy, or will his date prove to be a fatal attraction?

-

UPDATE*: This was a one shot but due to popular demand among my readers for me to expand this story and show KantBison playing Cupid, FadelStyle's first date from Style's POV and the aftermath of the date; I decided to turn this into a four-part story.

The link for chapter 2 is at the end of this one.

The thing is, Fadel showed up for this date to silence his brother Bison's constant nagging about how he needs to put himself out there more, start socializing, and begin dating. Since walking away from their lives as hitmen, Bison has found himself in a seemingly happy romance with a tattoo artist named Kant.

Love and romance are not exactly what Fadel is seeking at the moment, as his tolerance for such matters is low. Based on his experiences, love requires a high level of commitment, patience, time, emotional investment, and effort—all of which sound like stress to Fadel. He would much rather invest those resources into his passion as the owner and chef of a burger restaurant.

Bison has different ideas for Fadel and hasn’t stopped nagging him for the past few weeks. As it turns out, Bison’s boyfriend has a best friend named Style. Style is apparently a single, attractive mechanic whom both Bison and Kant believe is perfect for Fadel.

“We told Style about you, and he wants to meet you,” Bison said to Fadel two days ago.

“So?” Fadel sidestepped Bison to go and stand by the counter and finish marinating his chicken. Recently, Fadel proudly added some fried chicken recipes to his menu.

“So, go on a date with him. Just one.”

“No.”

“Oh, Fadel. Must you always be so stubborn?” Bison scowled reprovingly

“I’m not being stubborn. I’m just not interested.”

“How would you know that you’re not interested? You haven’t even met Style.”

Fadel didn’t reply. Bison walked up to him and continued talking, “Just one date. If it doesn’t work out, I won’t bug you about this anymore.”

Fadel gave his brother a doubtful look, “We both know you’re lying.”

Bison blinked owlishly, then sighed and rolled his eyes, “Okay, whatever. Just give Style a chance. Please?”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Look, I know I wanted to be in love when I met Kant, but being in love is nice. You might not want it now, but you never know how you’ll feel about it when it comes your way. We are no longer hitmen, and there is less to be skeptical about. Give yourself a chance to live a normal life.”

“Alright!” Fadel finally and begrudgingly conceded with a dramatic display of reluctance, mostly because he is tired of listening to his brother go on and on about the same thing. Maybe if Fadel went out on this date with Style and it failed, he would have an excuse to stay away from the dating scene thereafter.

That’s how Fadel finds himself at this little hole-in-the-wall bar and restaurant, sitting across from Style. Apart from how wary Fadel still is about this date, he admits to himself that he is blown away by how attractive Style is. The moment he walked in, his allure jumps out at Fadel immediately. Tall—about Fadel’s own height—an impossibly pretty face for a guy, and a waist entirely too sexy and slender to be real. It seriously has Fadel wondering about Style’s workout routine.

Also, Style shows up here wearing a fucking crop top. That’s how Fadel gets quite the perfect view of Style’s waistline. Style’s full outfit is a bit…much for Fadel’s tastes—because he has never quite seen someone in that combination of clothes—but at least it doesn’t take away from Style’s allure. It gives Style a playful and youthful vibe, which isn’t altogether bad.

“You’re much hotter in real life than in the pictures I saw,” Style is saying to Fadel

Oh, and Style is a talker. The guy doesn’t seem to have a filter at all. Since he got here, he hasn’t closed his mouth for more than three seconds, maybe. What he is on about, only heaven knows. Fadel has been too busy sipping on his beer and staring at Style’s pretty lips the entire time.

“Do you always wear black clothes? You had on black clothes in the pictures I saw and you’re black tonight,” Style continues talking. Before Fadel can answer, he goes on, “The look gives you a mysterious vibe. It also goes with your tan skin.”

Fadel also thinks Style has a really nice smile and set of teeth. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty Style is.

Silence. Style lifts an eyebrow at Fadel as if expectantly, and Fadel answers by lifting his as well in an asking manner.

“So, is black your thing?” Style asks as if he is deliberating why Fadel hasn’t answered the question.

Fadel stares at Style, wondering if he should tell Style that he is talking too fast and too much for him to get a word in. For some reason, Fadel doesn’t feel like being that mean about it, so he just answers the question. “I’m more inclined towards darker colors.”

“I’m the opposite. If I could wear all colors and prints at once, I would.”

“I can tell.”

“The body should be a canvas.”

“No one really says that.”

“I say it.”

“Do you also always wear sunglasses indoors at night?”

“There’s no reason not to.”

“Is it sensible?”

“Fuck sense. Life is an adventure. Overthinking things is a thief of joy.”

Fadel wonders if Style thinks at all. Although, the theories that Style appears to live by aren’t so bad. Fadel is on the opposite of that, and he admits that while he finds peace in being in control, it can be burdensome and boring at times.

Since Style claims to be on the wild side of life, Fadel has to test one thing, “I used to be a hitman.” He randomly relays

Silence.

Style’s jaw drops, and he lowers his glasses in obvious shock. “Are you kidding?”

Fadel shakes his head. “So you…killed people—”

Already sensing where Style’s question is going, Fadel cuts in to elaborate, “For money, yes.”

Somewhere deep down, Fadel is telling this to Style just to be mean and hopefully scare him off. Style is undoubtedly very attractive physically, and his personality, riotous as it seems, doesn’t seem that unbearable, and is even mildly amusing, actually. But Fadel is still uncertain about dating seriously again.

Style appears to process that information for a moment, and then his face transforms completely as he laughs lightly and says, “Cool.”

It is Fadel’s turn to be shocked, “What do you mean cool?”

Style shrugs a shoulder, “What do you want me to say?” He looks genuinely clueless, like he doesn’t understand Fadel’s qualm.

“Isn’t that a red flag for you?”

“Do you spit on the street?”

Fadel has a momentary confusion from the quick change of subject but adjusts, “That’s disgusting.”

“Do you cut in line when you go to places where you have to queue up?”

“No. That’s rude.”

“Do you gamble?”

“No.”

“Are you impolite to elders?”

“I try to avoid drawing negative attention to myself.”

“Then you’re a catch,” Style says with such finality as though there is nothing else to discuss.

Fadel is still surprised. “You’re okay with the fact that I’ve killed people as long as I don’t spit on the ground in public?”

“It’s a nasty habit, that.”

Fadel stares intently at Style, realizing he has never encountered anyone like him. Someone with such logic, yet who accepts Fadel's biggest flaw without hesitation. He ponders that maybe he still doesn’t want to date just anyone, but he wants to date Style. He wants to know more about Style—who he is, and why he is the way he is. He longs to see how bold and creative Style’s fashion sense can get. He yearns to know what Style’s captivating lips would feel like against his own. Fadel even desires the experience of holding onto Style’s stunningly beautiful waistline.

So, “How do you feel about heavy metal music?” Fadel asks with the intention of inviting Style on a second date.

“I fucking hate it, but we can go to that.”

“You just said that you hate it.”

“You asked the question, so you must like heavy metal. It’s the first thing you shared about yourself tonight without the intent to run me off; I’m hoping that while we’re out doing something you enjoy, you’ll be more forthcoming about yourself.”

So Style is logical and smart, and he can also read the room, Fadel thinks. Heaven help him, but he is impressed. He most definitely needs to explore this further. “How do you feel about live music then?”

“What happened to running me off?” Style challenges with a raised eyebrow. “What changed your mind? Is it my body? Have you decided you want to sleep with me at least once? You can be honest. I know I’m sexy.”

Fadel thinks about that for a moment. Style is certainly right, but only in part. “You seem outrageous, and shallow but you’re actually complex. I’m curious about you. Also, you’re a mechanic.” Fadel stops for a short moment then adds, “That’s hot.”

Style flushes, actually ducking his head and all. Fadel is surprised that Style can be bashful. The sight is rather adorable.

“I like live music.” Style finally answers Fadel’s question

“Then let’s go to that after we leave this place.”

“I thought I’d finally get to kiss you under the moonlight and run my hands across the wide expanse of your chest, but live music is fine too.”

Fadel smiles for the first time tonight. “Don’t despair. We’ll have plenty of time after the live music show,” Heaven knows, before the night ends, he must taste Style's lips, bury his face in Style's long, creamy neck, and kiss it while embracing his alluringly slim waist.

-End of Chapter 1-

Chapter 2

Thank you for reading ❤️

If you liked this story, please visit my Ao3 for more.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 23

You're just so frustrating.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, fluff

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Callob with @euphoricfilter !

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Fuck this.

Jungkook refuses to believe that that was how he proposed to you- he won’t aknowledge it, eating his breakfast cereal with a pout on his face.

„Jungkook, come on.“ You laugh, sitting across from him. „I told you it was perfect-„ you say, though he shakes his head, beginning to talk before he can properly swallow- which makes him choke, and you laugh as he coughs up the stray bits of food that entered the wrong tube.

„I don’t care, it sucked.“ He denies, tears on the edges of his eyes as he drinks some water.

„I mean I did suck you-„ you start, causing him to send a glare your way, but you just sigh. „Jungkook come on. It doesn’t matter to me how you asked me- the fact that you did makes me happy already!“ you tell him, before you tap his bowl. „Now eat your cereal or it’ll get soggy.“

He does- but that still doesn’t lift his mood at all.

He doesn’t really have time to figure out another masterplan like last time, since he’ll have to get back to work soon to not make anybody mad enough to slap some god awful project onto his table to be done before the new year- but maybe he can still come up with something memorable. There’s still some money in the bank, and he’s soon to get his december bonus for the holidays, so maybe a fancy date? Now that he thinks about it, you never went to one together. He doesn’t even really own a suit.

He should get one. And you a pretty dress. But not one that’s too expensive, because he’ll surely break it later back home.

Searching online for a fitting suit and dress for you both during his break, he doesn’t even notice you entering the room- quietly, thinking he might still be working, to put a plate of warm food down for his late lunch, and only now does he notice he’s been working for hours on end again without a proper break. And before he can even thank you properly, you’ve exited his office room again, door clicking into the hinge, as he looks on his plate.

Dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, and ketchup squirted down in the shape of a heart.

That's it. That's the last straw.

He exits his office with his plate in hand, setting it down on the coffee table next to yours as you were just about to turn on the TV, looking at him all surprised. “Everything ok-“

“You’re doing it again!” He complains, standing there like some upset Sims character, pouting and brows all frowned.

“I’m.. what?” You ask, confused. “..but you love dinosaurs when you’re upset-“

“I do!” He whines out, and you’re halfway expecting him to stomp his leg like a rabbit any second now, as he stands there with his hands clenched to fists. “I really do, and I also love it when you put my ketchup in a little heart there.” He says.

“…okay?” You chuckle, unsure. What’s he getting at?

He sits down next to you, and begins to eat, quietly. You’re not sure what’s wrong with him, but he’s sometimes like this, sometimes he doesn’t make a lot of sense. Or maybe he does, and he just can’t properly explain it well.

“You do-“ he starts, taking a sip of some water to wash down his food, as he shakes his head at his plate. “-You always do so many things for me.” He rants, almost angrily. “like now. You always know how to pick me up when I’m down, or you just-“ he picks one of the dinosaurs up to dip its tail into the ketchup, “-or you just do stuff like this randomly, and it’s the sweetest shit ever!” He exclaims, glaring at his food. “ridiculous.!” He shakes his head again, biting the tail off.

“Yeah cause, I love you?” You giggle, not quite sure what he’s getting at, still.

“Bu’ I ‘ove u ‘oo!” He responds agitated with a whine, before he almost chokes on his unswallowed bite, making you push the glass of water closer that he eagerly takes to help push down his food so he can talk properly. “I love you too, but you’re so good at it, it’s unfair!” He complains, making you laugh.

“How can someone be good at loving someone else?” You snort, pushing his shoulder when he looks at you with his brows wiggling suggestively.

“No but, in all honesty.” He says, sighing as he stares at the last dinosaur waiting to be eaten. “You’re so good at like.. Doing stuff for me. Everything you do is always so special.” He mumbles.

“...so you feel bad now because your proposal wasn’t special enough?” You wonder, and he shrugs, defeated, and nods. “Jungkook, you do know that the way you proposed is literally.. The most uniquely Jungkook-thing you could’ve done? Everyone goes on fancy vacations to propose!” You tell him, and he only hesitantly moves his face to look at you, back arched as he sits with no tension in his body. “Jungkookie, baby, it really doesn’t matter to me.” You press, hand on his thigh-

And it’s then that he notices, and jumps up to run into the bedroom, roaming in one of the drawers for something. “What is it now?” You laugh, as he stubbornly tugs at your hand before he stops.

“Wait which hand goes the ring on again?” He wonders to himself. “And which finger..?” He says, making you giggle, before you tell him where it goes. And the moment it’s on, he stares at it for a good while, just.. Letting it happen.

He’s really doing this. He’s going to marry you.

“We’re gonna have to kind of.. Talk about how we wanna marry.” You say, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Can’t we marry here at home? With bowser?” He wonders, and you laugh at him, pulling him closer to hold his cheeks as you kiss him.

“Like I said.” You giggle, lovestruck. “It really doesn’t matter to me, as long as I’m marrying you.”

[another-whump-sideblog]

Fixing Tracy -- Domesticity 

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

"Do you have a job?" Tracy asks as she helps Molly put away groceries. It's starting to strike Tracy as odd that Molly can afford all this and also spend the majority of her time with Tracy. Molly’s talked about past jobs, but never anything current.

“Not right now. Don’t worry, you’re not keeping me away from work or anything. This is where I want to be.”

“So how do you… afford all this?” 

“My parents were very wealthy, and I got all of it when they died.”

“Ah. That explains a lot.”

Molly laughs. “I’m not sure how to take that.” 

Hmm… Tracy tries to think of a way to direct the conversation that might give her helpful information. “Are you planning on getting another job any time soon?”

“Probably not. I don’t want to leave you alone all day.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Still, if you got hurt, or needed me for something else, you’d have no way to get help. And I like spending time with you. I would miss you the whole time I was gone.”

That makes sense, logically. No one is forcing Molly to be here, she must be spending time with Tracy because she wants to. Tracy wants to ask what makes her so special, but she chickens out. She gets the feeling that whatever the answer to that question is, she really won’t like it. “Do you… have any friends? At all?”

“Mm… I hope someday you’ll consider me a friend.” She puts the last of the groceries in the pantry. "Do you wanna play Wii Sports Resort? I bet you can get a new high score at wakeboarding."

"Sure." She's really good at the wakeboarding game.

Molly grins and sets up the game. It makes sense that she has no friends, but it’s disappointing all the same. No one is going to come visit her and ask about the heavily locked basement. Tracy isn’t getting outside help.

A thought hits Tracy like a bus. "Am– am I the first person you've kidnapped?"

"Of course!" Molly hands Tracy a Wii remote. "First and last."

A chill runs down Tracy's spine. It's okay, it's fine. Just gathering information. It doesn’t matter why Molly decided to kidnap Tracy, that knowledge won’t help her escape. "Right. Um…”

Thinking of questions is hard. Maybe she should just try to make natural conversation, and see if anything important comes up?

“Do you have a favorite video game?” Tracy asks, partially focused on digital wakeboarding.

“I’m not sure. The only thing I ever play alone is The Sims, so I guess that would be my favorite?”

“That makes a lot of sense. You like taking care of the- hell yeah!” Tracy is momentarily distracted by getting a long string of 100-point tricks.

“Yeah.” Tracy can hear the smile in her voice. “I do really like games where I can take care of people. I’ve had to ban myself from getting any games like that on my phone, I always end up setting alarms in the middle of the night to check on them. Sims don’t have their needs drain when the game is closed the way so many mobile games do.”

Tracy’s turn ends. She didn’t get a new high score, but she got close. “You’d… set alarms in the middle of the night?” 

“They’d be so sad and hungry every morning if I didn’t!”

“They’re… not real.”

“That’s the thing— how do you know? I can’t bear the thought of telling someone that they’re not real if they actually are. Can you imagine, someone coming up to you and telling you you’re not real? That would be awful! I don’t want to risk it. What separates us from programs, really? People a lot smarter than me have theorized we’re all in a simulation. If that’s the case, would it be okay for someone to starve and hurt us because we’re not real? Even deleting those apps felt kind of like killing people. I couldn’t function for weeks afterward… But I’m okay now!” 

“You’re… actually crazy.” That shouldn’t be surprising for a kidnapper, but it somehow is.

“That’s not very nice.” Her tone is lightly scolding. Not angry at all, but definitely the harshest tone she’s used with Tracy so far. “You probably didn’t want to hear about my issues, though. What’s your favorite video game?” As she talks, Molly repeatedly does so badly at the game that it pauses to remind her she needs to land on the water with her board flat.

“I never really played video games before I came here— before you kidnapped me, I mean. I think I need to try a few more before I decide.”

The conversation continues like that until Tracy gets a new high score. Just… pleasant, even if the things Molly says are disturbing sometimes. Tracy’ll have to mentally go through the conversation a few times before bed to make sure she didn’t miss any valuable information. Even if she didn’t, though, building a rapport with Molly is good. That’ll… that’ll definitely benefit her somehow, even if she’s not sure how yet.

“You’re amazing.” Molly looks at Tracy like she’s… Tracy doesn’t even know. Definitely not something human. A beautiful painting, maybe? A sunset? A skyscraper?

“For… being good at Wii Sports Resort wakeboarding?”

“For everything. Everything about you is amazing.”

“…thanks?”

Molly stares at her for a moment longer, then breaks eye contact. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. You barely know me, that probably sounded more like a stalker complimenting you than a friend. I’ll do my best to dial it back.”

“…I appreciate that.”

Molly fidgets with the Wii remote. “I think… I need to spend some time cleaning today. You won’t be able to relax if your living space is filthy! I’ve been putting it off a bit.”

The basement seems plenty clean to Tracy. "Okay."

"I've been keeping the cleaning stuff upstairs, so I'll go grab some stuff and be right back. Is that okay?"

"Yep, go ahead." Tracy feels like she should offer to help, but… she doesn't want to. This isn't her house, she doesn't want to be here and would leave if she could, she has no obligation to do any cleaning.

For the next several hours, Molly takes various cleaning supplies up and down the stairs (always making sure the bag with restraints isn't downstairs while Molly is upstairs) and cleans more or less the entire basement. 

Tracy plays some Minecraft, then starts a book that looks interesting. She's… enjoying herself. Is this the best use of her time? She could talk to Molly more, but did she really learn anything last time? She runs through the conversation in her head repeatedly, but can't find anything useful.

She puts the book back. She needs to think of more questions to ask, more information that might help her, she needs to do something because if she has time to enjoy herself she definitely has time to get something done but there's nothing to get done, she can't do anything she's useless–

"Are you feeling okay, dear?"

"I'm fine. Do you… need help with anything?"

"You're here to rest! I'll handle everything, don't worry. I'm basically done, anyway, I've just got to take the mop back up the stairs."

She's not pathetic enough to beg to help her kidnapper with chores, so she nods and heads to the kitchen. She'll just make lunch for both of them, Molly's okay with her doing that. It's really hard to just wait for helpful information instead of actively working towards escape, but… she can do hard things. It's not Tracy's fault that she's useless right now, anyway, it's Molly's, so there's not much she can do but suck it up and enjoy herself until Molly lets something slip.

Tag list: @whumpyourdamnpears

[2baddiesfanfics]

Something More

Pairing: Clorinde x Navia

Tags: First Time, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Dating, First Dates

Summary:

Now that Clorinde and Navia are official, it's time for a proper date! The duelist prepares a lovely dinner, but both have something much sweeter planned for dessert.

Read on Ao3

“Clorinde…now that we’re official…are you ever going to take me on a proper date?” 

The game master’s manual fell from the young woman’s hands as she scrambled to process what her girlfriend was saying. Truth be told, over the years they’d shared innocent moments of hand-holding and chaste kisses, but had never gone much further. When Navia had finally had enough of the uncertainty, she mustered up the courage to tell her how she felt.

Having been best friends their entire childhood, now that they were in their early twenties, it was time to stop avoiding the inevitable - they had feelings for each other that could not be denied. Clorinde was terrified of losing their friendship if their relationship didn’t work out, but Navia had convinced her nothing could shake the bond they shared.

Tabletop games were all fun and good, but Navia longed to play differently. Of course, Clorinde knew this - but she had never taken things to the next level physically. She was old-fashioned, wanting that moment to be one neither of them would ever forget. 

“Someone as special as you deserves only the best. I’ve got something planned, don’t you worry. When’s the next time you’re free from Spina duties?” Clorinde inquired. 

“Father gave me this weekend off, so I’m all yours.”

“Great. Come over hungry at about eight.”

“Oh, ho! Are you going to cook a feast just for me?”

“I may have something like that in mind. Living alone for so long, I’ve had to learn how to ensure I wouldn’t starve,” she joked.

Navia winced at inadvertently bringing up such a sore topic. “I didn’t mean-“

“Ah, Navia…it’s quite alright. Please don’t worry yourself over it. I mean, it does have its perks…” she trailed off.

Realizing what she was insinuating, the other girl blushed. “Um…does this mean I should, um…bring a change of clothes?”

Clorinde cleared her throat nervously. “If…if that’s what you’d be most comfortable with…then yes. I think that might be a good idea.”

Approaching her slowly, Navia leaned close and whispered into her ear. “I’ll be sure to come prepared, then. Until Saturday.” Kissing her cheek, she turned and started home before her girlfriend could see how red her face had turned.

——————

“Come in!” Clorinde was so busy balancing the many steps of the recipe for Fricassee de Poulet that she, unfortunately, couldn’t meet Navia at the door.

“My, something smells incredible! What’s on the menu for tonight?” She asked as she followed her nose to where her girlfriend was currently frying up her latest hunting catch. Seeing her so focused with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the top few buttons of her shirt left open made Navia lick her lips.

“I figured chicken wouldn’t be too exotic. Can you hand me that bottle of fermented fruit juice? I’ve got to thicken the soup. Then feel free to walk out to the patio. I’ve got the table all set and just need to put the finishing touches before I serve you.”

“Are you sure I’m not needed in the kitchen? I’d be happy to help...”

“That wouldn’t be much of a date now, would it? It’s my pleasure, truly. Just go relax outside. The weather is perfect and the sky is clear. You’ll see what I mean.”

Wandering toward the open sliding door, Navia gasped when she saw the view. A starry night worthy of a painting served as the romantic backdrop to a dinner that was sure to be absolutely delicious. 

“Wow…” she breathed.

“See? What did I tell you.” Clorinde had appeared behind her with a bowl in each hand. Moving to set them on the table, she pulled out a chair for the other woman. “Now, let’s eat while it’s still hot. I’ve got some Fonta in the fridge. I’ll be right out.”

As she took her seat, Navia glanced around the small outdoor space. She’d been over before, but never had the opportunity to appreciate this part of the apartment.

I wonder if she comes out here to look at the stars when she misses the nights she spent in the wilderness with Petronilla…

The clinking of glass snapped her attention back to the woman now sitting before her. “Should we toast to something?” Clorinde asked.

“Hmmm…” Navia thought as she grabbed a bottle for herself. “How about friendship turned to something more?”

Her girlfriend raised her own drink. “To friendship turned to something more.” They tapped their beverages and each took a swig of the refreshing bubbly liquid.

The meal was delicious and Navia found the flavor actually helped calm her nerves. Knowing this would be nothing like the standard sleepovers they used to have as kids both excited and slightly scared her. 

“Something on your mind, beautiful?”

Dodging the question, she replied, “I just can’t believe such an incredible chef was hiding from me in plain sight! This is simply delectable, Clorinde. And you weren’t kidding when you said you had a view. I don’t know how you don’t just stand out here for hours looking at these stars.”

The other woman chuckled. “I won’t lie, it’s tempting. But tonight I have a view that’s even more mesmerizing.” Navia turned her head and saw her girlfriend staring at her. Averting her gaze back to her now empty bowl, she realized the meal was over. 

“What, no dessert?” She murmured inquisitively. 

“I figured it might be a better idea to keep dinner light, considering…”

“Clorinde…if you’re not ready…I don’t want you to feel pressured into this.”

Her girlfriend rose from her chair and reached out her hand. “Navia…I’ve been ready. For years and years, I’ve been ready. I can think of no one else I’d rather share this part of me with.”

Holding back tears at the beauty of her words, Navia stood and wrapped her arms around her neck. Leaning in close, she whispered, “Then let’s not waste any more time, shall we?”

Their mouths met in a soft and slow kiss. After a few moments, Clorinde felt Navia’s tongue begging entrance to her mouth and stiffened. 

“Relax, love,” the other girl whispered against her lips. Clorinde marveled at how such tender reassurance could make her instantly forget how nervous she was. Her arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer, and she could hear Navia let out a quiet whimper of approval. Emboldened by her reaction, Clorinde’s hands began to wander under the bottom of her blouse as her lips trailed down her cheek to her neck.

“P-perhaps we should move to your bedroom? I think we might be a little more comfortable lying down.”

Clorinde’s years of training had given her more than enough strength to hoist Navia into her arms. With a squeal of surprise, the other girl carried her to where they’d be spending the rest of the evening. She let her down gently and joined her on the mattress. Silently thankful Navia hadn’t dressed in her usual elaborate attire, she continued where she had left off, lifting her shirt over her head and gazing at the sight before her.

“Will you stop staring?” Her girlfriend chided, crossing her arms in an attempt to cover herself. 

“My apologies. You’re just so beautiful…I couldn’t help myself. We can stop if-“

“No! No…I’m fine. I’m just not used to you being so excited,” she chuckled. 

“I’ll try to be a little slower. Must be the adrenaline,” she said before resuming her kisses. Navia wiggled underneath her as she worked to undo the buttons of the other woman’s shirt.

“Now who’s the eager one?” She heard her tease before they both started laughing. 

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one naked, would it?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Clorinde agreed as her mouth reached her girlfriend’s collarbone. Navia sighed at the sensation, her hands sifting through the other woman’s hair as she sunk further down her chest. Showering her breasts with kisses, she fumbled with the clasp of her skirt. “Damned thing won’t-“

Navia deftly popped the latch and shifted out of it, leaving Clorinde dumbstruck. “I was right there!”

“Sure you were, love,” the other girl giggled. “Here, let me get yours…” With a twist of her fingers, she unbuttoned and unzipped her slacks with ease. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good with my hands,” she said seductively.

“I guess I’ll be the judge of that,” Clorinde retorted as she slipped out of her pants. Now all that remained between them was their undergarments. Navia took the initiative, reaching behind her back to unlatch the hooks of her bra. 

The other woman was on her in a flash, knocking her back down onto the bed. Their tongues twisted against each other as Navia worked to remove her girlfriend’s bra. Clorinde moaned in approval, her hands now massaging her breasts. She felt her lover’s nipples harden between her fingertips as she teased her, readying herself to ask permission to take the next step.

“Navia…may I?” 

“Please…” she begged. In the dim lighting of the room, Clorinde could see the dark wet spot that had bloomed on the scrap of cloth between her and her goal. Hooking her fingers through the fabric that clung to her girlfriend’s hips, she slid them down her legs and gently tossed them to the floor. 

To prevent her from feeling self-conscious, Clorinde lay side-by-side with her, prepared to whisper words of adoration as her fingers dipped into the wetness that coated her thighs.

“Archons, Navia. I’ve pictured this moment so many times in my mind that now that I’m here, touching you like this…I feel like I’m dreaming,” she told her as she teased her opening.

Navia turned her head to look at her, her eyes half-closed in a daze of pleasure. “Clorinde…this feels…amazing…please, don’t stop…”

Adjusting her wrist, Clorinde positioned her thumb against the other woman’s clit, her middle and ring fingers slowly penetrating her. She rubbed the sensitive bud in a steady, circular motion and felt Navia gripping her upper arm to ground herself.

“I’ve got you…don’t worry. I’m here…” she reassured her as she increased her pace. Their foreheads rested on each other, neither of them wanting to break eye contact.

“I…I…can’t…please…Clorinde…love you…”

In response to her declaration, her girlfriend kissed her hard, swallowing the sound of Navia’s cry as she hit her climax. Watching her chest rise and fall quickly, fear flashed in Clorinde’s eyes. What if she wasn’t happy? Had she hurt her?

To her relief, the other woman smiled up at her and patted the space next to her. “I’m fine, you worrywart. Come lay with me and let me have a try.” Finding solace in her reassurance, Clorinde did as she was asked.

Navia gently spread her girlfriend’s legs apart and wiggled between them. Clorinde couldn’t hide her embarrassment at the sight of Navia staring at her from between her thighs.

“Y-you don’t have to do anything. I’m fine if you are,” she stuttered.

“Hush. You’re beautiful, you know that, don’t you?” Navia said as she traced some of the scars that were scattered across her lover’s body. 

Clorinde had never considered herself beautiful. Strong, yes. But attractive? Not so much. Navia kissed the marks tenderly, a way of showing she loved all of her. Clorinde’s hand moved over her mouth as she tried to keep herself composed. The tenderness with which she was being treated was not something she was used to. She struggled to hold back tears - the last thing she wanted to do was ruin the moment.

Navia caressed her breasts softly, the pads of her thumbs teasing her nipples. “Feel whatever you need to feel, love. Tell me, how do you like this?” She asked as she began to pinch and pull. Her girlfriend let out a loud moan of approval as she continued her ministrations. Moving Clorinde’s hand away from her mouth, she wordlessly encouraged her to be herself.

“I want you to watch me,” the other woman instructed as she kissed down her body. This may have been Navia’s first time, but she had prepared by reading a thing or two before going into this. Her tongue slipped between her lips and pressed against her girlfriend’s clit. Tracing her entrance, she tantalized her with just the tip. “Is this how it’s done?” Navia asked innocently.

Not wanting to discourage her but eager for more, Clorinde panted, “Need…more…”

“Oh…like this?” Dipping her tongue into her, Clorinde gasped at the unfamiliar but incredible feeling. 

“Y-yes!” She moaned loudly.

She felt Navia smirk against her entrance as she pressed her face into her. Her mouth worked to provide enough suction to bring her to the brink.

“Oh…ohhhhh, Navia!” Clorinde called out as she watched her pleasure her. She marveled at how much better this felt than in the hundreds of times she had imagined it.

Determined to push her over the edge, her girlfriend pressed both of her legs to her chest. At this angle, she was able to sink her tongue into her even deeper.

“Archons!” Clorinde exclaimed as she grabbed fistfuls of the sheets underneath her. Navia’s eyes twinkled with delight as she felt her walls clench around her.

“N-navia…I think I’m going to…” she tried to warn but her body cut her off as she shook with the force of her orgasm. Tears leaked from her eyes as she arched off the bed. The wave of emotions hit her so hard she couldn’t control her reaction. The other woman held her close while rubbing her back and kissing her forehead.

“I love you, Clorinde. I’m so glad we got to experience this together,” she said. 

She felt her girlfriend hug her back tighter. “I love you, too, Navia. Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

Once they came down from the intensity of the moment, Clorinde collected herself and pulled Navia back down to rest against her chest. “Now, tell me - where did you learn those moves? Don’t tell me I’m not actually your first?” She asked with a chuckle.

“A good girl never kisses and tells, Clorinde. But I might be able to point you in the direction of some good reading material, if you’d like. You'd be amazed at what one can import from Inazuma.”

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Crutches and Crushes

Chapter Three of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Four

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.9K

TW: Unhealthy relationship and mentions of cocaine

Chapter Overview: You run into Frankie while you are out shopping.

Notes: Hey everyone ! I love that I'm still going to say no set posting schedule even though I have been consistent in my posting schedule. I just don't want to give a day and then miss it and blah blah blah. ANYWAY I'm absolutely beside myself that people wanted to be on the tag list for this series (i could cry) so thank you to the people that are investing time into this just like me (: my asks are always open if you want to chat about this series in particular or literally anything else !! happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

With a whole week of work at Brass Knuckles now officially under your belt, your dad wanted to celebrate. He called you and asked if you would come and eat lunch with him on Sunday afternoon. You knew that this meant you would be the one selected to go pick up and pay for lunch at some restaurant, but it was the fact that he remembered in the first place. Your dad was the kind of man that remembered globally recognized celebratory events: Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and Thanksgiving. However, he struggled a bit with remembering ones that hit closer to home: your birthday, his own wedding anniversary, and any school function you had. You knew that he never did this with any malice or bad intentions, that wasn’t in his nature, but that didn’t ever numb the pain when it inevitably happened. 

“Did you really have to get me a salad?” 

You already knew that he was going to ask this. “Yes, I did.”

“Well could you have at least ordered me one that is topped with fried chicken and not this skinless bitch chicken.”

“Fried meats are one of the main foods that you have to avoid because of your diabetes,” You narrow your eyes at him. “So eat your ‘bitch chicken’ and be happy.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry, Sweet Pea. Thank you for bringing the food and for putting up with me.” 

“Of course, dad, but speaking of putting up with you…how has your physical therapy been going with Miss. Maggie?”

“I have my good days and my bad days. I actually managed to hold myself up on the uhh…what’s that thing called again? The one that has those horizontal poles on either side of me?”

“The parallel bars?”

“Yeah!” He snaps his fingers together. “I managed to hold myself up on the parallel bars, but I used all my strength focusing on not falling over which meant that I didn’t have much left in me when it came time to try taking a step.”

“I’m still really proud of you! Doing everything that you’re doing isn’t easy. All that anyone can ask is that you take it day by day and to try your best.”

“When did you grow up and get so smart?” His voice sounds airy. 

“When you blinked.”

“Is that so? Okay, smarty pants, what’s the first thing that I’m going to do when I can walk on my own again?”

You lean back in your seat and ponder his question. It wouldn’t have anything to do with playing cards, since he has that poker tournament every Sunday evening. It wouldn’t be going on a date, although you suspect he might have a little thing for Miss. Maggie. As you rack your brain for the answer a car fires up its engine in the retirement home parking lot. Got it.

“The first thing that you’re going to do when you can walk on your own is go to a car show. Then after you’re done, you’ll probably go get the greasiest burger you can get your hands on just to spite me.” 

“Fuckin’ hell. You got me all figured out.” 

“How about this? We go to the car show together, but skip the burgers.”

“Or we go to the car show together, skip the burgers, and get a basket of fries instead?”

You know when you're in the middle of a losing argument. A frustrated sigh comes from you as you nod your head at his counter-proposal. 

“Deal, dad.” 

***

You should have known this was a bad idea. You should have turned your car around the moment you saw how packed the parking lot was. Days like today were the reason why online shopping and curbside delivery were invented. Unfortunately for you, you had no better way to spend the afternoon of your day off than braving the hectic crowds of IKEA. Your desperate need for items inside the store outweighed your hesitation to go inside. You have only just grabbed a basket when your phone starts ringing.

“Thank fucking god you called, Robbie. I just got into IKEA and I need someone to talk to so I don’t get completely overwhelmed here.” 

You spend the next 45 minutes wandering in and out of different furniture sections while filling Robbie in about your new job and friends. You tell her about Benny and how he has become your closest friend so far down here. She audibly gags when you mention Brunson and how he acted when you first met him. Although you reassure her that Benny stepped in and shut him down, she still has a few choice words that you hope the family standing next to you can’t hear through the phone. 

By the time you finally bring up Will, Pope, and Frankie your basket is quite full. You found all the kitchenware you needed: pots and pans, cups, plates, bowls, utensils, etc. Then for your room you got a nightstand, a dresser drawer, a lamp, decorative throw pillows, and a full length mirror to hang on your closet door. You wrote down the item numbers for some of the items that are too big to cart around, kitchen table and chairs and a couch, so you could order them on a later date. 

“So, Santiago is Pope, Will is Ironhead, Frankie is Catfish, and Benny is…just Benny?” 

“It’s weird, I know.” You laugh. “They’re all really sweet, but Frankie is by far the most attractive one in the group.” 

“What did I fucking say?! I knew that you would have better luck finding a boyfriend in Florida than back home!”

“He’s not my boyfriend! I just think he’s cute, damn!”

“Tell me about him! I need a good mental image.”

“He’s a few inches taller than me, maybe 5’11? His hair curls at the end and is this beautiful brown which matches his eyes. Broad, and I mean broad, shoulders.” Robbie squeals on the other end of the phone. “Big nose and probably 10-15 years older than me?”

“I told you that you like ‘em older.”

You playfully roll your eyes at her comment as you walk into the section of the store that carries the bed frames.

“But I think you would really like Will. He’s tall, ruggedly handsome, has a sexy southern accent, and seems really smart.”

She’s quiet on the other end of the phone while you explain more about him to her. You love Robbie, but the men that she has dated in the past couldn’t match her on any level. She needed a partner that could challenge her intellectually and push her out of her comfort zone. Will is the kind of man that could do that for her. 

“Basically, what I’m trying to tell you is that you should date men that are actually men.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll have some homework to do when I come down next month for spring break.”

“Just give him a chance, that’s all I’m asking. Hey, I should probably go. I’ve already been here way longer than I intended and if I keep talking to you there's no telling when I’ll finish.” 

The two of you make plans to talk later and you hang up the phone. Now to find a bed frame and get the fuck out of here. You survey the room to see if anything catches your eye and something does. The only issue is that it's not a piece of furniture. Familiar curls peek out from underneath a black cap. He’s facing away from you which allows you to read the lettering on the back of his shirt.

B.K.B.G Sponsor of the Month

Tire Town Auto Body Repair Shop

When you first met Frankie, Benny had accidentally cut it short. You have been embarrassingly hung up on the fact that you didn’t get to talk to him the way you had with the other two men that evening. Now the universe has allowed you a second chance by placing him just a few feet away. You find yourself stuck in between feeling excitement and apprehension to approach him. Would he think you were weird if you came up and talked to him? Would he see you as Benny’s little receptionist and nothing more? These questions and countless more plague your mind as your feet guide you over to him. 

“Uhh…Frankie?”

He turns around and looks down at you with those enchanting eyes. The wrinkles that form around them when he smiles softly at you echo the photo you saw of him. The front of his shirt has ‘B.K.B.G Friday Fight Night’ written in a large font across his chest. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

You shily gesture to your very full basket. “Turns out that one of the many consequences of moving quickly is having to buy all new furniture because you didn’t have time to bring the stuff you already owned.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” he chuckles and scratches the nape of his neck. “That was a stupid question.” 

“No, no it wasn’t! At least I have a job now so I can pay for it all.”

“How is that going by the way? You just finished your first week, right?” 

You try to convince yourself that him remembering how long you had already been working at Brass Knuckles for wasn’t a big deal. He had come into the gym on Monday and since today is Sunday, a logical person could conclude that you had completed your first week. Try as you might, you couldn’t stop the balloon-like swelling you felt in your heart. 

“I did! It was pretty good, honestly. I feel like I’ve got the hang of everything I’m in charge of. Speaking of Brass Knuckles, I like your shirt.”

He looks down at the shirt he probably didn’t think twice about throwing on this morning. 

“You don’t have one of the fight night shirts yet? I think this is the one my job sponsored.” You laugh as he tries to look over his shoulder to read the back of the shirt.

“No, I haven’t been to the fights yet. You work at Tire Town Auto Body Shop?”

“For the time being.” His eyes drift away while he says. You can tell that there is more to the story than he is letting on.

“Well it’s comforting to know that you work there,” His gaze falls back on you. “I have the worst luck with cars so it’s only a matter of time before I’ll need to find a shop.”

“I hope nothing goes wrong with your car, but if it does, just bring it over to me and I’ll take care of everything for you. Wait, wait…did you say that you haven’t been to the fights?”

“In my defense I have only known about them for a week! Benny is the only one I know there, but he is either preparing the fighters or organizing the event as a whole. I would feel out of place if I went by myself.”

“Well now you know me and Will and Pope. Come with us.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” he rests his hand on the edge of your cart. “It’s actually a pretty fun time. I would love it if you went with me- me and the guys.” You watch his fingers pick anxiously at a piece of tape on the end of one of your boxes.

“Sounds like a plan to me, Frankie.” 

Upon hearing you agree to go with him the corners of his lips curl into a smile. It’s so infectious that you find yourself beaming in the middle of the bustling store as well. His shyness makes you yearn to know what makes him tick. Makes you want to know how to coax that coveted smile out of him. Because maybe doing that will help you smile more as well. 

It looks like he is opening his mouth to say something when he’s cut off by the blaring of his ringtone. He easily takes the device out of his pocket, but falters when he sees the name that's displayed on the screen. His once relaxed demeanor has now been replaced by something tense and foreign to you. 

“I’ve uhh I’ve gotta take this. I’m so sorry.” He hits the answer button and places the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“No worries,” You whisper to him. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.” 

You watch as he nods and starts to walk deeper into the store. Before he gets out of your ear shot you hear him say the name ‘Rochelle’. Leave it to you to be into a man that already has another woman first in line.

***

“Why do we always have to come to this dump? They don’t have any good drinks and the music sucks.”

Frankie sits across from Rochelle at a random table in The Barrel. He knew better than to let her sit at the guy's designated table. He didn’t want her to corrode them the way she had done with him. 

“Why do you want to get back together, Rochelle? We never made each other happy. Our whole relationship was a coked out blur.” 

“But you liked it.” She places her hand on his. It was cold and wet since she had been using it to hold her beer bottle. 

“I’m not the same man I was before, Rochelle. I can’t do shit like that anymore. I don’t want to do shit like that anymore.” He forces himself to look her in the eyes. “You know what it cost me.”

She meets his plea with a scoff and brings her drink to her overlined lips. She never seemed interested in conversations where she wasn’t leading or the center of attention. 

“You were fun. I was fun. We were fun. So what if we needed a little bump every now and then to get there?” Her fingers curl tighter around his hand. “I miss you, Frankie.”

He missed having someone ride shotgun. He missed having someone there when he needed to vent about the shitty day that he had at work. He missed having a warm body to sleep next to at night. He missed having someone to care for. He just didn’t know if he missed her. She gave him a distraction when he needed it in the past, but could she give him the support he needs now? The support he would inevitably need in the future?

“The only way I would consider revisiting ‘us’ is if it's just us. No more coke.”

He can see the annoyance in her eyes as he lays out his boundaries on the table. She slowly retracts her hand from his and coils it back around her glass. 

“Fine.” Her tone is flat.

“I’m not kidding. I want a fresh start. If we are going to try again I want to do it right.”

“Then let's start with that woman’s voice I heard on the other end of your phone today. Who was that?”

“Are you serio- I ran into Benny’s new hire while I was out shopping for stuff for my place. She’s new to the area and doesn’t have a lot of friends here yet. It was just a friendly conversation, Rochelle.”

"Well,” Her voice is syrupy sweet. “You don’t need to be her friend because you’re already mine.”

He really wanted to believe her when she said that. He really wanted to believe that she cared for him enough to change and grow as a person. He really wanted to ignore the sound of the water calling his name the longer he sat with her. 

***

By Wednesday, you felt completely at ease working in the gym. You recognized and chatted with regulars, became quite the sales woman for both memberships and Friday tickets, and were able to kick the washing machine into submission without Benny’s help. Your desk was also coming along nicely too. You had posted notes in your favorite color, a photo you and Robbie took together in a photobooth shoved into the top right corner of your computer, multi colored pens, and even a small filing basket so you could better organize your paperwork. Your new found confidence in the job gave you the push you needed to officially pitch the idea of gym wide air fresheners to Benny.

“I don’t want this place smellin’ like a fruity little spa.” 

“You do know that they make dozens, if not hundreds, of different kinds of scents right?”

“People come here to workout, not pretend that they are on a tropical vacation.” 

“People can’t workout if the smell suffocates them.” You retort.

“It’s not even that bad!”

“You’ve gone nose blind, Benny! Please know that I say this out of the kindness of my heart, but it is fucking rancid in here.” 

“Now you’re just bein’ mean.” 

“Listen, what if I buy some, only the most manly smelling ones of course, and let you test them out? It’s a win-win because you won’t have to charge them on the company card and if you hate them I can just return them all.”

“Alright, but you promise that I will get the final say?” 

“You’re the boss, Benny. Oh, what should we eat today?”

The two of you have been eating lunch together during the week. There is a good window of time right after the gym’s lunch rush and before the after work rush. You even made sure to block off at least an hour in Benny’s schedule around that time so he could have a much needed break. 

“Have you tried that burger place up the street? Goddamn, they’re so good.” 

“Burgers it is then. Text me your order so I know what to get you.”

What? Just because your dad has to be on a strict diet doesn’t mean that you have to be on one.

***

Benny had wheeled his rolly chair all the way from his back office and crammed it behind your desk. Both of you sit snugly with your feast of burgers and fries littered in front of you. The silence is only broken up by the occasional ‘can you pass the ketchup?’ or ‘are there extra napkins in the bag?’. When you have eaten half of your burger you decide to set it down and bring up what’s been on your mind. You know you can’t just come out and ask it so you opt to bring it up gradually. 

“I saw Frankie the other day while I was out and he suggested I come to the fights this Friday.”

“I’ve been askin’ you to come since you got here!” His mouth is still full from the last bite he took. 

“Gross, Benny!” You swat him in the shoulder. “I know you have been asking, but you’re busy helping organize things! You’re the only one I know here.”

You can’t tell if he chooses to keep his mouth shut because you’re right or because you just reprimanded him.

“Frankie said I could go with him and the other guys. Plus I have no social life and it's starting to feel like the walls of my apartment are closing in on me.”

“Regardless of who convinced you to go, I’m happy you’re comin’! You’re gonna have a blast! Fish and the guys throw down pretty hard at these things too so you’ll be in good company.” 

“Yeah I think I will be too.” You have to shove a fry in your mouth to hide the smile you can feel making its way across your lips. Only once you have finished chewing, you don’t want to be a hypocrite, do you bring up what you really have been wanting too. “Can I ask a question? It might not be my place though.”

The man across from you motions, burger in hand, for you to continue. You take a deep breath and rip the band-aid off.

“Well, Frankie and I’s conversation was actually cut short when he got a phone call. I wouldn’t have said anything except- except he looked so tense when he got it? I don’t know, maybe I’m imagining things.”

“No you’re definitely not imaginin’ things. I don’t want to get into Frankie’s business because that's his own shit to talk about, but long story short, a woman is tryin’ to come back into his life that shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

You pick your burger back up and take a bite as he carries on with his story. 

“The guys and I all found ways to cope with comin’ back to reality after dealin’ with the worst of the worst in and out of the service. Mine was openin’ this place, Will’s was helpin’ other vet’s, Pope’s was bein’ a military consultant, and Frankie’s was…well Frankie’s was Rochelle.”

“Rochelle.” You wanted to feel how her name felt on your tongue. “I heard him say that name when he was walking away.”

“Damnit, Fish.”

***

“So, remind me again why we are here?”

Frankie pulls into Brass Knuckles’ parking lot with Pope in his passenger seat. He knew he should have done this without him. If anyone was going to sniff out that he had a small thing for you it was going to be Pope.

“Benny left some clothes at my place last week and since we were in the neighborhood I figured I would just drop them off.” 

“As opposed to giving them to him on Friday? Which is only two days from now, might I add.” He looks in the backseat and grabs the small cardboard box. “I think he would have made it until then without a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.”

“Shut up and get out of my truck, man.” 

Frankie takes the box of clothes out of Pope’s hands when they both round the bed of the truck and start walking towards the door. He can see you entranced by something on your computer screen through the windows. 

“I also invited her to come to the fights with us this week.” Frankie flicks his chin in your direction when Pope looks at him. 

“You already have her number? Damn, Fish. I thought I worked quickly.”

“No, man,” He groans. “We ran into each other while I was at IKEA on Sunday. I just thought it would be fun, you know? It’s not like that, Pope.” 

“Fish, you were a bad liar when we served together and you’re a bad liar now.” He turns to look at Frankie. “Come on, you think she’s cute don’t you?”

“She’s just cool.” He should have never brought Pope.

“Whatever you say.” 

The chime of the door bell pulls you from your emails. You’re shocked, but not unhappy, when you look up and see the two of them coming through the door.

“Hey guys. I didn’t know y’all were coming by today.”

“I would have texted you, love, but I haven’t got your number.” Pope flashes his signature beaming grin in your direction. 

“Well you never asked, love.” You tease. 

“We wanted to drop some things off for Benny.” Frankie says as he comes up and places a cardboard box gingerly on your desk.

“Who's ‘we’?” Pope gabs. 

Your attention stays on Frankie as you speak. “Oh, sure! He’s in the back office doing…actually I'm not really sure what he does back there.”

When Frankie doesn’t immediately move, Pope reaches over and slides the box towards himself. 

“Hey, what are you-?”

“Let me take this for you, Fish. Why don’t you stay here and get her number for me? Strictly for scientific purposes of course.” You can see a playful look in his eyes when he turns back to his clearly panicking friend. 

“Wait, no it’s-”

“It’s no big deal, exactly.” Pope whisks the box off your desk and starts walking into the gym, but not before tossing you a wink. 

It suddenly feels a little harder to breathe when it’s just the two of you up front. You want to compliment the soft, yellow jacket he is wearing, but no words come. The only thing you can selfishly focus on right now is your heart and how it's beating so hard in your chest that he can probably hear it. 

“It’s nice to see you again.” You think you can hear his voice shutter a bit.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Frankie. Still alright for me to come with everyone on Friday? I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing!” The words tumble out of his mouth. “You’re not imposing. I invited you, remember?” His tone settles.

“Thanks again for that by the way.” 

A silence falls between the two of you. You both must have been racking your brains for something to say because you speak at the same time.

“Did you-?”

“Were you able-?”

Comfortable laughter blossoms and it dawns on you that he might be just as nervous to talk to you as you were to talk to him. 

“No, no you go first!” You choke out while trying to catch your breath. 

“Did you end up getting anything else after I left the other day?” 

“I actually did; thanks for asking! I found a bed frame I liked. It took me longer than I'd like to admit to put it together though.” 

Frankie has never been more grateful for the front desk than in this exact moment. Images of your naked, writhing body cuffed to a bed frame flood his mind. God, he could do anything he wanted to you. He would take it slow at first, not wanting to leave any part of your body undiscovered by his tongue. Then, only when you were begging him, would he give you what you wanted. 

“Frankie?”

“I-I’m sorry what did you say?”

“I asked if you were able to find anything? You didn’t have a basket when I saw you.”

“No, I didn’t. The thing I wanted was just out of reach-stock! The thing I wanted was just out of stock.” He corrects.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You pray your voice doesn’t give away the curiosity you have about his little slip up. “Here. Let me give you something to make up for it.” 

You take out a pen from its holder and move your stack of sticky notes in front of you. His eyes capture your every move. You write out your number slowly on the small piece of paper as you revel in the knowledge that you have his undivided attention. When you’re finished you sign it with your name and a tiny heart and pray that you haven’t misread this situation. 

“I know Pope was the one that asked for this, but I want you to hold on to it.” 

Your cheeks burn as you hand him your proverbial olive branch. When he takes it from you and reads what you had written he laughs quietly to himself. 

“You know, so you can text me about this Friday.”

“Not for scientific purposes?” He mimics his friend's earlier statement.

“Unlucky for Pope, I was never really that into the sciences.”

“Lucky for me then.” 

He folds up your note and carefully places it into his front shirt pocket. His timing couldn't have been better because Benny and Pope emerge from behind the brick wall as soon as he’s done. 

“I hear that you managed to convince our girl here to come with y’all to the fights, Fish! Good on you!” He comes up and claps his friend on the back. “I’m not at all jealous that you did it when I couldn’t.”

“Benny.” you chide.

“Why don’t you make it up to Benny and come to the bar with us?”

“One step at a time, Pope. One step at a time. I do have something for you though.”

He comes over to you as you start writing your number out again. Out of the corner of your eye you see him give Frankie and Benny and thumbs up. Oh you poor, sweet, incorrect bastard. You nonchalantly pass it to him and hope Frankie see’s that there is no heart drawn on this time. 

“Your reward for being such a big helper today by returning Benny’s clothes. If you text me in the middle of the night and wake me up I swear to God I’ll kill you.” 

“What bliss that would be.” 

“Hey! Unless y’all are gonna workout y’all better get a move on. Just because we are friends doesn’t mean y’all can take up valuable lobby space in my gym.” 

“We’re going, we’re going.” For a man that is getting ushered out of a building, Frankie sure looks happy. 

“Bye, guys!”

They both wave and say ‘bye’ to you and Benny as they open the door and head into the parking lot. Benny heads back to his office before they reach their truck, but you keep watching. As Frankie’s hand curls around his truck door, he looks back at you, and pats over his shirt pocket. Then he disappears inside and drives off with Pope. 

Frankie could feel the note he placed in his pocket burning a hole through his chest the whole ride back to Pope’s place. It made it hard to carry on a simple conversation with him because that fiery sensation was all he could focus on. It was the type of heat that seeped into his very bones and made him feel as if he was glowing from the inside out. He knew you had unknowingly seared yourself onto his heart and that feeling scared him.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @pimosworld @c-justhere @javicstories @saltybutteredtoast @hoeslingz @avastrasposts @bitchwitch1981 @smol-beb @cutesyscreenname }

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 15

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far. ♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

You sit down as you wait for your order to be called. The metal seat isn’t very comfortable, especially after hours in your office chair. You tuck your bag against the wall and stare out the window as Andy shrugs off his jacket.

He sits with the dark blue garment hung behind him, tugging at his tie but not loosening it. As you glance over, he flicks his fingers up to scratch the stubble along his neck. You rest your elbow on the table then drag it off. You don’t know what to do as the awkwardness of the situation settles in.

“So,” Andy breathes out as he claps his hands on his thighs. Is he nervous? No, why would he be nervous? You’re projecting. “Long weekend, you said?”

You smile, a click in your throat. “Um, yeah, I probably shouldn’t go into detail.”

“That bad?” He lifts a brow.

“Let’s just say next weekend, I’m going absolutely nowhere,” you sigh.

“Sounds like heaven. My wife, ex-wife, is coming back from vacation so she’ll be dropping off the kid,” he brings his hand up to the tabletop, rubbing his ring finger, as if searching for the missing gold, “not really a kid anymore. His teenage angst blows right in after him like a raincloud.”

“How old?” You wonder. You didn’t think Andy was that old, but you’re a bad judge of these things.

“Sixteen, for now. Can’t wait to leave for college next year. Honestly, I kind of feel the same,” he chuckles, “I probably sound like an ass when I say that.”

“I think you mean well,” you shrug, “you know, my dad wasn’t so nice about it.”

“No?” He furrows his brow.

“Uh, yeah, but let’s not get into all that. I’m starving and vulnerable,” you kid.

The bell rings and your number is called. Andy stops you from getting up and insists on grabbing the order himself. He comes back with a tray and doles out the tacos. You try not to be too eager and wait for him to fold one up first.

Your stomach growls in an echo of your mind. You’re thankful for the distraction of the meal, you’re not exactly a social maven. Further, he’s your boss and you’d hate to step on any lines, or over them.

You chow down on the grilled chicken chipotle. The spice is more than you expect and has you reaching for your Sprite. Andy hums in delight as you sip and glance out the window again. It’s dark out now. You’re going to be home late. Ugh, your whole routine is entirely lost.

“I was curious,” he begins between bites, “about this club you went to…”

“Uh, yeah, I dunno,” you say evasively, chewing your straw before stopping the anxious gesture. “It was my friend’s idea.”

“Ah, well, I’m trying to get back on the scene, you know? I tried a few dating apps and a bit too few man girls want to charge for just a chat…” he puts his hand up helplessly, “I’m out of touch, I think. In my day, you just met people face to face so I thought maybe, give it a try, but I don’t even know where to go.”

“Mmhmm,” you swallow, “well, I don’t think a club is really the place for that. It’s more so a hookup type place.”

“Hookup? Is that what happened?”

“Uh,” you shake your head, “maybe a book club? That might be somewhere to start.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t suggesting anything about you,” he backpedals, “I just… I don’t have much going on so I might be trying to fill that void vicariously.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” you wipe your fingers, “I don’t really date. Not seriously. Well, I mean, I haven’t been actively looking. With work and everything–” The door jingles as you ramble, “I barely have enough time for m–”

A figure steps up beside your table. His sole squeaks loudly and you look up, shocked to find Curtis glaring back at you. You’re struck dumb as you can only sit there.

“So this is it? You’re ignoring me for this guy?” He barks, “Bunny, you could’ve just told me you’re a slut–”

“Woah, woah,” Andy stands, “what’s going on? Let’s cool off–”

“No, fuck you!” He grabs Andy’s plate and throws the tacos in his face, “I know who the fuck you are. You got a habit of fucking your employees, Andrew?”

“Curtis,” you get up and grab his arm before he can grab your boss, “Curtis, we’re just having dinner–”

“I’ve been texting you,” Curtis snarls as he turns on you, “all day and I can’t get one reply. Don’t lie to me.”

He latches onto your arm and you cry out. You don’t understand why he’s doing this. Or how he even knew you were here. He’s crazy!

“Let go of her,” Andy slides his arm between you and Curtis, bringing his hand down against Curtis’ wrist, “calm down.”

“Calm down,” Curtis sneers as Andy inserts himself between you and rabid man, “mind your own fucking business.”

“You’re scaring her,” Andy puts his hand on Curtis’ chest and tries to ease him away, “so come on, cool off. Like she said, there’s nothing going on–”

Curtis keeps a hold of you as you’re pulled against Andy. You whimper as you're almost pinned against the table.

“Nothing going on?!” Andy jolts as Curtis lets you go, grabbing Andy’s collar instead, “she’s mine, you understand? You’re just some desperate old man–”

“Get your hands off of me,” Andy’s timbre drops dangerously, “before I make you.”

“Hey, hey,” an employee comes out from behind the counter, “no fighting. Get out now or we’ll call the police.”

Curtis huffs as you cower behind Andy. You can’t see him but you can feel his anger. Andy brushes against you as Curtis releases him. Your boss keeps you shielded behind him as Curtis lets out a snarl.

“Whatever, I was just about to fucking leave,” he stomps to the door as you hide, clinging mindlessly to Andy’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Andy apologises to the employee, “we weren’t trying to cause a scene. We’ll just clean up and go.”

The worker says nothing and disappears behind the counter. You see Curtis’ shadow stalk off outside the window. Andy turns to you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Um, I think…” you’re voice quavers, “I don’t know.”