#making his open-backed shirt even more open-backed-er is my stress relief

[chaoticnoisy]

some vashies :)

[shotmrmiller]

Tormented by a Ghost

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: small mention of smut and simon being kinda mean

TY TO MY BETA FOR MAKING THIS 10X BETTER @c-h-a-r-n-i-k

Tired of living with your family, you decide to move out. There's just one problem— Rent is too costly to afford on your own. You complain about it to your friend, and they tell you that they know someone who's also looking for a roommate and preferably another female. Fantastic!

Your friend gives you her number and ya'll are moving in together by the end of the month. It was great. No nagging parents, no micromanagement, nothing. You loved it. Until your roommate brings her man over. And he's a fucking bully.

--

You're crawling home from a hard day at work, and you want nothing more than some wine on a quiet night. Unlocking the door, you step into the flat. The lights aren't turned on so you assume your roommate isn't home.

Dumping your bag in your room, you make a beeline towards the kitchen. As you're bent over in the fridge, your roommate's door opens.

"Hey,” you call out, "I'm pourin' myself a glass of wine if you're interested!"

Then an assertive, baritone voice speaks from behind you.

"You must be the roommate."

You give an ear-piercing scream as you jump, whipping around to face him with a hand over your racing heart.

"Fuckin' hell! No, it's okay, I don't need my hearin' er nothin'." he scolds.

"What the fuck! I almost flat-lined with my head in the fridge because of you!"

Then you get a good look at him. This monster of a man is a minimum 6'3, with a black balaclava covering his face, a black long-sleeve shirt, and grey sweats. You tried real hard to not ogle the tattoo that stains his exposed left arm. And the grey sweats, we all know why. Cursed be your fetish for thick forearms and big hands.

He leans his head back, looking down his nose at you.

"I think it'd be an improvement," he says, "You face down, I mean," and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline as he chuckles.

You don't know who he thinks he is, talking to you—a complete stranger— like that but you aren't about to take his shit.

You sneer. "Fuck you. Yeah, I bet that's the view you get the most. Women willingly turn away to not get a look at your mug. Did my roommate ask you to put that mask on so she could face you during sex?"

He steps forward, his height allowing him to tower over you, and growls out, "You callin' me ugly?"

Smirking, you roll your eyes. Of course.

"I don't see any other reason for you to hide your face. Not that it matters to me— I'm not the one that has to tolerate it."

His eyes squint at you as he retorts, "I'm quite the opposite."

Opening your mouth, you're about to tell him that he can say whatever helps him sleep at night when your roommate calls out to the big brute in front of you.

"Ghost? What's taking so long?" she asks.

You tried and failed miserably to hide your mocking giggle at hearing his name, and he leers at you in response. "Go on, Ghost. You're being called back into the realm of the dead."

As he steps away, he says with contempt, "Dumb little bird doesn't know what she's talking about," before walking over to your roommate, looping his arm around her shoulders and going into her room.

He probably doesn't even know your name and he laid into you like he's hated you his whole life. After pouring yourself a glass of wine, you shake your head and walk towards your bedroom. Freak.

--

One day, after having your friend with benefits over in the morning for some nice stress relief, you walk him out. And fucking Ghost is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. You quickly shuffle your friend out the door, face glowing with embarrassment.

Why was he here? Jesus Christ, now he's going to watch you do the walk of shame around the flat. Hopefully, he won't say anything. As you walk away from the door to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, Ghost speaks up.

"Well, that was pathetic."

You hang your head and close your eyes in resignation. Should've known someone as toxic as he wouldn't mind his own goddamn business.

"What now, Ghost?"

He sounds oddly smug as he says, "I've been here for a couple of hours, and I didn't hear anything coming out of your room. Sounds like he doesn't know what to do with a cunt."

Behind gritted teeth, you grind out, "Don't worry about my pussy, bud. You've got yours coming in," and you hold the n as you look at your watch, "30 minutes. Now piss off."

As you stomp away towards your room, the bottle of water all but forgotten, you hear him let out a deep chuckle. He's an asshole. A physically attractive one, sans the face, but still an asshole. You're going to have to get your friend to come over more often if Ghost is going to continue being around with those jacked arms and deliciously tight grey sweats.

Sucking your teeth, you make a mental note to ask your roommate why she gave him a key to your shared flat without asking.

--

A week later, your roommate has Ghost over and you figure it'd be a good time to get some action yourself. You send him a text and in less than 20 minutes, you're letting him in. Hugging him, you tell him to go to the bedroom. But he's not paying attention to you— he's looking directly behind you.

Turning around to look, it's Ghost. Goddamn it. And this time he's shirtless with his arms crossed and a skull mask on. God fucking damn it. Pulling the arm of your friend, he looks down at you and you tell him to go on, that you'll be there soon.

He nods, walking away with one last look at the phantom leaning against your roommate's door. Exhaling a ragged sigh, you turn back to Ghost.

"Can I help you?"

He shakes his head mutely before responding, "No, lovie, but I can help you." You shake your head at his nonsense.

"No. I'm not doing this with you."

You turn to walk away when he speaks again.

"Yer really gonna let him touch you again? He clearly doesn't know what he's doing— Bedroom's silent as a crypt. Even with those glasses he's got on, he can't find what he should be lookin' for."

Insulted for your friend, you face Ghost with a disbelieving look on your face.

"You're not seriously standing here trying to cockblock me. You—" his audacity has you stammering, "You have no idea what I'm like. Maybe I'm just naturally quiet in bed."

Ghost stares at you for a solid minute before he shrugs and goes back to your roommate.

Unbelievable asshole. Why does he have to look so good shirtless, the berk.

--

You start noticing that Ghost is there a couple of hours before your roommate gets there and you'd think it's weird if you weren't too busy being distracted by the fact that he's always taunting you one way or the other. And then one day, you question him on it.

"You do know your girlfriend won't be home until the evening? It's barely 3."

Ghost turns his head from the TV to look at you and grunts.

"Not my girlfriend." That's news to you.

"Then why you spendin' so much time over here? You're gonna have me thinkin' you like spending time in my delightful presence." you banter with a teasing smile.

Ghost continues to stare at you and the heated look in his eyes confuses you but then he turns back to the TV.

"I can't stand ya, ya daft bint."

You pretend you don't hear the muted tenderness in his voice.

--

And on a sunny day, it all comes crashing down. The boys are over again, but this time Ghost is boring holes into the back of your head as you both go into your respective rooms. You're straddling your boy's hips shirtless when you hear your roommate's furious yelling from the other side of the flat and then stomping towards the front door before it slams closed.

After your bedroom door is busted open, the bolt being broken out of the faceplate from the brutal strength behind the force— and you're jumping off the bed and crossing your arms over your exposed chest.

It's Ghost and he's staring directly at your friend on the bed.

"No." He stomps over to grab your friend by his shirt and drags him off the bed and towards the front door before tossing him against it with a nasty-sounding slam.

"Get the fuck out."

Your friend is spluttering when Ghost cuts him off.

"If I see you here again, I'm turnin’ those silly little glasses," and he taps a lens with his finger, "into contacts. Now get the fuck out. I won't repeat myself." And with that, he trips over his own feet running out the door.

You're standing in the living room. eyes are wide in disbelief. What just happened? There's a moment of silence before Ghost breaks it.

"Your roommate won't be coming back today." He walks over to you picks you up to sit you on the kitchen countertop and lifts his mask over his mouth.

"Now. You're going to come on my tongue before I fuck you and personally test out this 'I'm quiet' theory, pet." You look down at him and sigh.

"I think I'm gonna need a new roommate," you lament.

Pulling the gusset of your knickers to the side, he says, "Don't worry your pretty little head over that. I'll be moving in with you. Also, no. You don't have a choice."

He digs his fingers into your thigh and purrs against your skin, “If you find it in you to scream, my real name’s Simon.” 

And with the way his usually sharp tongue delicately rubs against your clit, you can't find it in you to argue.

A/N: dreamt of this and it had me in a chokehold.

[caitybug]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR FAVOURITE PURPLE QUEEN @thehoneyedhufflepuff ! @krisrix and I love you so much and wanted to give you a fun snowbaz shenanigan where there’s confused feelings, magic gone awry, and, of course, lots and lots of purple 💜💜.

Baz is going to kill me. He’s going to rip my esophagus from my throat and drain me dry. 

I didn’t think this would happen.

I only—

I thought—

I guess I didn’t think, technically. I just went off a bit.

And now I’m staring at Baz’s shirt. The one he’s supposed to wear on his fucking date tonight.

(Date.) (I didn’t think Baz dated.)

I just assumed Baz was the type who everyone wanted (look, even I can admit he’s fit), but who was elusive and hard to get.

His shirt was purple. A lovely lavender shade that would have looked all too good against his skin. It’d be a light shade in comparison to his dark hair that would hit right above the collar of the shirt.

(Would he button all the way up?) (Surely not.) (He’d probably let at least his collar bone show—lead whoever he’s dating on. Keep them wanting more.)

I’ve only really seen Baz in his uniform. So seeing him pull this out of his wardrobe has made my mind do flips. 

When I asked what he was doing he just sneered at me. “Going on a date, Snow.”

I blinked at him as he walked out of our room. (Probably to drain rats before his date.)

Is he going on a date with another vampire? Or is this a situation where he takes his meal out before sucking it dry? 

I was supposed to have lunch with Agatha today. But that can’t happen any more. (Not now. Not since I fucked everything up.)

I think, briefly, that he won’t notice.

(Simon, you turned his purple shirt white. He’ll notice.)

It’d still look lovely on him.

(Prat.)

I pace the area between our beds, trying to think of a solution.

Could call for Penny.

(No, not enough time. He could be back at any moment.)

Is there a spell?

I frown. We’ve not been taught color changing spells. (Though didn’t Penny change her hair colour once?) (I think that was an accident too.)

I huff and sit on my bed, letting my head rest in my hands, letting my fingers twist the curls that fall off my forehead. 

My magic just calmed down, but I can already start to feel it come to the surface again as my stress levels rise.

I didn’t mean to do it. I guess I was focusing on the shirt a bit too much. About the date. About what the date was possibly covering up. 

A date.

What kind of person would Baz go on a date with?

I bet she’s bloody perfect. 

Dark hair, same intense eyebrows. Just as posh and put together as he is.

I try to remind myself that it’s not a date. That it’s most likely a plot. A way to cover up a meeting with the Old Families.

(Yeah. That’s got to be it.)

I stand back up and walk to his clothes, thinking they’ll give me answers. (They won’t.) (I’ve already sized them up at this point. Given them a good solid shaking down.) 

They’ve not given any clues yet. No matter how much fear I strike in every pleat and stitch. 

I lay his clothes down again, pondering my next move. 

I could leave? Act like I have no clue.

(He’d never buy it.)

Knowing Baz, he’d hunt me down. Maybe bring me along on this date and make her watch as he tore me apart, limb from limb.

I hear the faint sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs. I hope, briefly, that it’s someone else. That I’ll hear them stop before reaching the final few steps to our room.

(They don’t, though.)

“Fuck,” I murmer. “Please god turn purple,” I say helplessly to his shirt. It stays a stark white, mocking me. (If shirts could have eyebrows, I swear…)

I hear the footsteps reach our door and my heart rate spikes, making the next sentence come out of my mouth dripped in desperation and magic. “Just be purple!”

The door opens; my eyes are shut tight, prepared for what’s about to come to me.

“What the fuck did you do, Snow?” he seethes.

I grimace, my entire face scrunching up on itself at his reaction. (Knew he’d notice.)

I turn around to face the music, to own up to turning his purple shirt white, but when I open my eyes- I can’t speak.

Not because I literally can’t speak.

I’m just, quite actually, speechless. 

Baz’s hair. His uniform, his lips- his hands.

They’re all various shades of purple.

He stomps up to me, grabbing the front of my shirt and practically spitting in my face. “I repeat, Snow. What the fuck did you do?”

My hands are up in defence, trying to let him see reason. (What’s the reason? There’s no logic to get me out of this situation. I’m fucking done for.)

“I—er—well,” I stammer. I feel a bead of sweat going down my forehead. 

Baz’s eyebrows are a dark shade of purple, matching his hair. They’re downturned, making a crease in the middle of his forehead as he waits for me to spit it out.

“Use your words, Snow,” he says, letting go of my shirt and crossing his arms. 

I think, briefly, that I dislike the purple his eyes now have. That I prefer the grey, even when he’s angry.

It’s calming- like a grey sky on a lazy rainy day. Or the color of ocean waves. A soft grey and slight blue mixed together.

He scoffs, realizing I’ve nothing to say to explain myself, walking over to the bed to look at his clothes.

I take a look at the bed, expecting to see relief at the fact that I managed to turn his shirt back to its original colour.

Instead it sits, the only non-purple item in the room. A stark white in contrast to everything else.

I blink twice, trying to see if maybe it’s just a very light purple.

(It’s not.)

Fuck.

“I, er—” I take a step closer to him, think better of it, and back away again. “I hope your date likes the colour purple?”

“Even if he does, I can’t be seen like this.” He walks to his wardrobe and pulls something out of a box on the bottom shelf. (Huh—haven’t seen that before.)

When he turns around he’s got his mobile in his hands.

“You can’t have—”

“If you try to tell me what I can and can’t have while we are currently standing here completely purple because of your fuckup I will throw you into the moat.” He looks down at his phone and starts typing as he walks to the bathroom.

I think, for a moment, I just got through the worst of it- but before he slams the door shut he shouts “You had better fix this by the time I get out, because if I have to cancel a date and any chance of having my normal complexion back- you’ll beg for death.”

The door slams shut, echoing loudly in my ears.

I let out a deep exhale.

He’s cancelling the date. 

That alone seems to help my chest uncoil for some reason. Just knowing that instead of going out with someone else who will probably only aid in my downfall—he’ll be here. Under my watchful eye instead.

I lay down on my blankets and stare up at our now purple ceiling.

I hear the shower run. (Maybe Baz thinks he can wash the purple away.)

I close my eyes, letting myself ease into relaxation. To calm down for a minute before trying to problem solve.

But then it hits me, and I jolt up out of my bed and to the bathroom door.

I knock once.

Twice.

And bang three more times.

“Wait, Baz—did you say he?” 

[winterscaptain]

permanent.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: just in case you missed it, i published a family tree for the hotchners! at this point, jack is married to bella and living in d.c. she’s a journalist for the washington division at the new york times and is generally pretty awesome. as always, lemme know what you think!

words: 3.1k warnings: language, hospital setting, canon-typical injury

summary: “write your injuries in dust, your benefits in marble” - benjamin franklin. au!december 2035

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Come on, Soph! Go, baby, go!”

Your daughter is a vision. She streaks across the field, her green and yellow uniform almost melding with the grass as she keeps control of the ball. You can’t see her face too clearly, but you know she’s scanning the field with the same intensity you see in Aaron’s face beside you. 

Isaac plops down on the bench behind you, home from Los Angeles for winter break. “How’s she doing?” 

Aaron half-turns his head, keeping his eyes on the field. “Going for a hat trick - if she makes it, it’ll be her third this season.” 

“Excellent.” 

Caroline, down the field with her choir group, lounges happily between the legs of one of her friends, eating popcorn. When she sees you looking, she waves at you.

You wave back for a moment before your attention’s caught by a collective gasp and Aaron’s hand shoots to your forearm. You turn back to the field, but you missed it. 

Everyone’s moving and you don’t know why. 

With shocking agility for his age, Aaron all but leaps down the bleachers and onto the field. Your eyes search for Soph, but there are too many people on the field, all of a sudden. 

Caroline’s standing on the seat of the bleachers, her friends steadying her with their hands on her arms and ankles. 

There’s a hand, soft and scared on your shoulder. “Mom?”

You open your arms, and your nearly-grown son ducks under it, curling into you as you stand. “Do you want your earbuds?” 

You feel him nod and you pull them out of your bag. His trembling quiets a little after he fits them in his ears. 

There’s a clamber, and Caroline appears at your side. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching.” 

She exhales, shaky and worried. “Where’s Dad?” 

“On the field.”

But where? 

You find Aaron, his salt-and-pepper hair stark in the autumn light. He’s talking to the referee, his brows low. 

You hear sirens. 

+++

“Oh, hey! What’s up, Mom?” 

You almost hate to ruin his mood. 

“Jack, honey, can you get down to the house at any point tonight?” 

You try not to grip the handle above the car door too tightly as Aaron races through the suburban streets, following the ambulance. Soph was definitely lucid when they loaded her up, but definitely in a lot of pain. 

“Ye - Yeah...Why?” 

“Soph’s headed to the ER - something happened on the soccer pitch today and her knee…” You shake your head. “I dunno. Her knee looks really bad.” 

“Fuck. Okay.” You hear him shuffle around and click his mouse - checking his schedule. “I can get down there after my last meeting at four - I’m headed there in a few minutes, but won’t be able to swing any earlier. I’d cancel it, but it’s literally SecDef and the Joint Chiefs and -” 

“That’s fine - I just need someone at the house with the kids until one of us can get back. Elliot’s at baseball practice until six and I’m not sure if -” 

“I’ll be there. I’ll get El and then I’ll swing by for Isaac and Caro if they’re still with y’all down there.” 

You glance over at Aaron and nod. He heaves a sigh of relief and mouths Thank you. 

“Thanks, Jack.” 

“Yeah. See you soon. Love you.” 

“Love you, too.”

+++

When you’re finally allowed in to see Sophia, her eyes are red and puffy with tears. Her right leg is braced and elevated at the knee. 

Her doctor explains the situation - dislocated knee and splintered patella with a torn meniscus and ACL. “This kind of traumatic knee injury poses a couple of issues…” 

He explains that the rehabilitation and surgery needs for both the ACL and meniscus are exceedingly different, and “It’s entirely possible Miss Sophia will experience permanent joint damage. However, we won’t know that until we have an orthopaedic surgeon look at it tomorrow.” 

“What about sports? Can I still play?” Soph tries to sit up farther, but Aaron’s arm shoots out, locking her against the bed across her shoulders. 

The doctor looks hesitant, and it’s all she needs to burst into tears again. Aaron moves, sitting on the side of the bed and wrapping her up in his arms. He looks over her head at you and your lower lip disappears into your mouth as you meet his gaze. 

You shift your attention to your other children sitting patiently behind you.

Caroline’s practically bit her nails to the quick - her hands looking more and more like her Aunt Emily’s as the moments pass. 

Isaac’s been sitting in the wide windowsill for the entire afternoon, his headphones on, staring out the window, his mouth tight and fingers tearing into the foam stress ball you keep in your purse. 

We’ll need another one of those. Or five.

 You get a phone call, and you step out. “Hey, Jack.” 

“Hey. Just got Elliot. We’re headed over to the hospital now. How’s she doing?” 

You sigh and press a hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, shit. That bad?” He asks. 

You don’t comment on his tell pickup. It’s in his blood, at this point. “Yeah. She’s definitely out for the rest of the season, and we’re looking at some long-term stuff, too.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Hey! I’m still here and she’s gonna kick your ass if you keep swearing in front of me, dude.” Elliot shouts from the back and it almost makes you smile. 

“I’m actually inclined to agree with you, Jack. We’ve got a dislocated and splintered patella in addition to a torn meniscus and ACL. It’s going to be a long rehab.” 

You hear a deep sigh into the bluetooth system in Jack’s car. “Well, I’ll stay here for the duration.” 

“No, no honey it’s alright. Your dad is home full-time and you’ve got a huge project reaching critical stages. Your room is all ready for you, but you really don’t have to hang around if you can’t manage the drive every day. And Bella -”

“Bells is looped in. She’s fine. She’s more than happy to tag out if we need to. Her deadlines are really loose right now what with the whole ‘nothing going on in Arlington’ thing this week. She’s heartbroken for Soph and wants to help where she can.” 

“Alright.” 

“Hey,” He huffs, sounding a lot like his dad. “I’ll let you go. I’ll text when I’m outside.” 

“Okay. Thanks, bud.” 

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Anytime.” 

+++

Sophia’s sleeping when Alice and Hank come to visit later in the evening. Aaron went home a couple hours after Jack, planning to tag out with you later so you could get some sleep in your own bed before work tomorrow. 

Alice immediately embraces you, all but falling into your lap as you hold her. She’s shaking.

“Is she okay?” 

You push her back, smoothing some wayward edges at her hairline. “She will be.” 

Alice’s dark eyes fill with tears, and you brush them off her cheeks as they fall. 

“She’ll need your help, though. It’s gonna be a long time before we figure out what’s permanent and what’s not.” 

Alice nods and retreats, sitting in the plastic chair by Soph’s side, folding her arms on the mattress and laying her head on them. “Hey, Sofa,” she whispers, though Soph can’t hear her. 

“I haven’t heard that one in a while,” you tell her. Sofa is a nickname Derek gave Sophia when she was little. No big meaning to it, but it stuck. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed there all night. 

Hank lingers by the door. In the shadow of the room, you could easily mistake him for Derek, but that concerned pull at the corners of his eyes screams Savannah. 

Eventually, he crosses the room and sits on the little lounger beside you. 

He takes your hand and you kiss his knuckles. “I bet this isn’t how you wanted to spend your winter break, huh?” 

A little laugh leaves him. “Maybe not, but little Miss Thing over here dragged me out the door before I could get two words in edgewise.” He gestures vaguely toward Alice and you actually smile. 

“Yeah. In my experience, Morgan women don’t fuck around.” 

“You got that right,” comes a voice from the doorway. It’s Savannah, fresh off her shift and still in her white coat and scrubs. She scours over Sophia’s charts and checks on her before sitting on your other side. 

“Do you want the bad news or the good-but-also-kind-of-bad news?” She asks, almost inaudible. You glance up at Soph but Savannah shakes her head. “She’s out - those pain meds will leave this entire visit a blur.” 

You sigh. “Fine. Hit me with the bad shit.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Savannah rests her elbows on her knees. “I’ve seen a knee injury like this exactly once before. No matter what you do, they can’t and don’t always heal right. She could need a mobility device permanently, even after she’s healed, and I can tell you now she won’t play again.” 

That’s okay. She’s okay. 

Better soccer goes than her life. 

Soccer is her life. 

You only know that Alice can hear everything when her shoulders start to shake. She doesn’t make any noise as she cries. She’s like her dad that way. Hank stands and places a hand between her shoulder blades, but says nothing. 

“Is that the worst of it?” 

Savannah nods. “Yeah.” She takes a breath. “The kinda good news is that she’ll be totally fine no matter what obstacles she may run into. She’s tough. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Hotchner.”

She snorts. “Hell, I watched you bounce back from crazy life-threatening shit with a quip and a grin.” 

You raise your eyebrows and shrug. “I do what I can.” 

+++

Caroline curls into her father’s side, her double bed big enough to manage the both of them. It feels a lot like when she was little - she’d have nightmares or couldn’t fall asleep and Aaron would come and sit with her until her breath was even and slow.

“Dad?”

“Mhmm?”

“What’s Soph gonna do about college?” Caroline’s voice is small, nearly smothered in Aaron’s shirt. “She already has scouting offers and stuff.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I’m not sure. We’ll all have to figure it out together, won’t we?”

+++

Aaron steps into the room, closing the sliding glass door behind him. Alice, just as you predicted, snoozes next to Sophia, her head pillowed on her arms. Sophia’s upper body almost arcs around her and she managed to snag one of Alice’s hands in her adjustment. 

Those two…

Maybe he won’t escape the inevitable after all. 

Morgan-Hotchner? Hotchner-Morgan? 

He really only ever prepared to lose his name with Caroline. Soph always seemed far too… herself to take on a new one. 

We’ll see.

You’re asleep in the pull-out chair, your brow drawn and arms crossed over your chest. He approaches you as quietly as he can, putting his go bag down and sitting beside you. 

Much to his chagrin, you startle awake. 

“Sorry,” he says in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

You shake your head. “You didn’t.” Talking through your yawn, you add, “Just had a weird dream is all.” 

Aaron pulls you close and you relent, tucking into his side with a hand pressed to his chest. 

“Did Savannah come by?” He asks. 

You nod. 

“What did she say?” 

You sniff a little, more from the antiseptic smell than any emotional response - that will come later. “Soph won’t be able to play again unless fuckin’ divine intervention or some shit comes along and fixes her knee from scratch, but she’ll be able to move around just fine with a cane or brace or something after a while.” 

Aaron can only imagine it now - fits and righteous anger about getting around the house, watching games from the bench - the list could go on forever. “She’ll hate that.” 

You hum in agreement. “Just another parenting challenge. Already have the rest of the gamut covered neurodevelopmentally, so we were bound to get a physical challenge at some point.” 

“Never more than we can handle.” 

Shaking your head, you note, “This one just might do us in.” 

+++

“I swear to God, if I see you in the office at all this week I’m gonna smash your kneecaps in.” Emily pauses. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” You laugh a little and Soph sits up, her brow asking a question. 

You answer, pulling the phone away from your mouth. “Your Aunt Emily told me she’d smash my kneecaps if she saw me at the federal building this week.” 

Soph snorts. “Nice. We could match.” 

You reach over and tweak her nose. “We already match.” 

“Hey.” Emily grabs your attention again and you put your cell back to your ear. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to be here. Stay home for Soph right now and I’ll sign off on it and turn everything in for you.” 

You roll your eyes. “I can’t believe you turned into Rossi, Miss I’m Past Retirement Age But Twisted the Bureaus Arm to Let Me Work Myself to Death.”

She laughs and hangs up, leaving you and Sophia alone again in the hospital room. She tucks back into her Jello, taking bites that are way too big. 

“How are you feeling, bug?” You brush her cheekbone with your thumb and she shrugs. 

“Can you hand me my headband?” 

You reach over and dig around in her back until you find the wide swatch of colorful fabric. She takes it from you and shoves it over her head, pushing her hair back with practiced ease. 

She’s just like her dad. 

What? Loyal? 

Yeah. But also chronically avoidant. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

She huffs, playing with her fingers. “I’m fine. I think.” Her breath is shaky. “I can’t really tell with all the meds I’m on, but it feels… really bad.” 

When she looks over at you again, her eyes are glassy, tearful. “I know I can’t play again, maybe not even run.” 

You reach out for her hand, but don’t say anything. 

“Momma…” She pauses, looking down at her blanket. “Momma, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I feel like I only know how to play soccer. I don’t know how - I don’t know if I want to do anything else. I’ve never thought about it before.” 

You run your thumb over her knuckles. “Soph, you can do so much. You have a great strategic mind - you think in these big, creative webs. It’s such an asset.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not profiling you, baby,” you tell her with a smile. “I just know that about you because you’re my daughter.”

Her mouth twists. “Right.” She looks down when her phone buzzes. 

“Who is it?” 

The corners of her lips tip up. “It’s Alice. She’s asking me if I want anything from the drive thru.”

You mirror her little smile. “That’s nice of her.” 

“Yeah.”

+++

“Alright so you have twenty nuggets, large fries,” Alice digs around in the bag, taking things out as she speaks. “And… a vanilla milkshake.” 

“God, I love you.” Sophia wraps her hand around Alice's head and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Alice laughs, deep from her chest. “Shit, Soph, if all I have to do to secure your love is get you crap chicken, sign me up.” 

“You could get damn close.” 

Aaron watches the girls sit beside each other in the bed, taking turns dipping their nuggets in the sauce. They’ve always been this way, exchanging barbs and affection in equal measure. Symbiotic in the extreme, one is never far from the other. 

You’re home, getting everyone else in bed and settled for the evening. Isabella drove in a night early - Jack’s headed back to D.C. apartment for a series of days-long meetings at the Pentagon regarding his latest project. 

Aaron’s excited to see her. It’s been a helluva thing to see his son married, even more surreal to know and love his son’s wife like his own daughters. 

His phone rings. 

Speak of the devil. 

“Hey, Bella.” 

Sophia looks over at the mention of her sister-in-law, and Alice looks beside herself with delight. As well as being a hit among the parents, Bella’s a winner with the kids, too. 

Some days, Caroline likes her more than she likes Jack. 

“Hey, Pops. Want to tag out?” 

“Sure. I’ll switch with you. How long do you want to be here?” 

He can almost hear her shrug. “Eh. I’ll spend the night. My column isn’t due until the end of the week and I’ve got it covered. Don’t need to work, don’t really need to sleep. Win-win.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do. I’ll be there in twenty.” 

She hangs up before Aaron can respond, so he just pockets his phone and takes the loss. Sophia, after taking a sip of her milkshake, asks. “Is Bella here all night?” 

“Yeah, bug. She’ll be here.” 

Soph and Alice share a look. 

+++

“Well, Bella has more patience than I do,” Aaron says, dropping his go bag at the bedroom door. “She’s stuck with H&M for the rest of the night at the hospital.” 

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad the girls have company, and fun company, at that.” 

“Fair enough.” 

The two of you quiet for a moment, and you tuck further under his arm, placing your hand over his heart. 

“Aaron?” 

His hand traces up and down your back, slow and steady. “Yeah?” 

“What can we do for her? She sounded so… defeated today.” 

And it’s true. You’ve never seen Soph like that, even at her lowest. If you were honest, it scared you a little. 

“We can be her parents. That’s all. And she’ll figure something out. If she needs to take a gap year, she’ll manage. She and Alice can search for programs together.” He sighs before he continues, leaning back to look at you. 

“All we can do is ask her what she needs and support her as best we can.” 

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower​ @hotchslatte​ @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[notabloodmage]

Anders Clinic: early Act 1

hello! i am handers trash! here is the first time my hawke helped Anders around the clinic! thank u!

The clinic was crowded today. There was another fever burning its way through Darktown. Anders was stretched thin as it is, with very few volunteers in recent days to help him keep the clinic running and safely hidden. As it turned out-- operating for free meant that help was hard to find. His mana was low, even with the extra reserves that Justice granted him. The clinic was overrun with patients-- his little corner of Darktown a filled with a cacophony of retching and the groans of the ill. He shuffled tiredly, but with purpose, from patient to patient. He was grateful that Justice wouldn’t let him rest until the job was done. It wasn’t good for Anders, sure, but it helped save the lives of all these people, so it had to be worth it, right? 

“Uh, Anders?” A familiar voice broke through the crowd. Hawke was… unexpected. The little rogue had weaved her way through the crowd somehow to make it to his side. He didn’t even look up from his work to greet here, focusing on blue fade-energy pulsing at his fingertips. 

“Sorry, Hawke, but I really don’t think I can be of any help to you today,” Anders said balefully. He was knelt over an old woman, a Ferelden refugee not unlike the rogue before him.

“Er, actually, I was wondering if I could help you…” 

That made him look up, and the sight was so beautiful it made his head spin (or perhaps it was the fact that he was going on 50+ hours without sleep). 

Hawke was looking down with her signature crooked grin, brow cocked with concern at his appearance. She wasn’t wearing her armour like usual, he’d never seen her without it before, all that tan freckled skin in the open. She was wearing a casual peasant shirt with a hastily lased collar and simple trousers torn at the knees. He snapped his eyes onto her warm brown gaze to keep them from wandering. Her eyes always had a twinkle in them, somehow, like she knew something you didn’t. 

She just had a way with people, Anders supposed, even the woman he was treating seemed to relax at her mere presence. 

And more than that, he realised, she may as well have been handing him a pot of gold. She was holding out a basket of fresh picked herbs. Elfroot, Embrium, Blood Lotus-- everything he could possibly need to treat this flu. She beamed when he looked up at her incredulously. 

“Bethany is here too, somewhere-- healing isn’t her speciality but Father did teach her the basics. And I may not be a mage, but I do know my way around a cauldron.” She winked down at him, turning toward the back of the shop. “You do have a cauldron, right? Or at least a pot I can cook with?” 

“I… What?” Anders gaped--half-convinced the exhaustion had finally gotten to him and he was hallucinating. Hawke giggled.

“A cauldron, Anders, so I can make some healing potions for these people. Father used to make this awful potion for us whenever we were sick, it tastes like the void itself but it always works! I’m not as good as he was but I do know the recipe!” She looked back at him quizzically.

“There’s a cauldron on the fire near the back, miss.” One of his other patients, a young boy who had been in the clinic before spoke up for him. 

Anders still couldn’t believe this was happening. This couldn’t be some kind of stress-induced hallucination, could it? Hawke wasn’t really just sweeping in to solve his problems again was she? First with Karl and now this...

“That’s… I…”

Before Anders could fully process the situation he was whisked back into his work. 

The sunset bled the day into night, the work still hard but going significantly more smoothly now. He’d bumped shoulders with Bethany a few times throughout the day, who’d always given him an encouraging smile before returning to her work, she may not have been as adept as he was at healing but she did better than fine. Her proficiency with the elements kept the fire burning and kept them supplied with clean water so Anders could focus solely on his healing abilities. The atmosphere of the clinic had changed, it was no longer so frantic, and although he felt as though he was about to collapse with exhaustion, Anders was cautiously optimistic. With all the help they’d been able to give it looked like most of the refugees would actually survive this. 

Plus, Hawke wasn’t kidding. She did know her way around a cauldron. Between patients Anders caught glimpses at her slicing up herbs at an alarming speed, Anders hadn’t considered that he proficiency with daggers would translate to something as mundane as chopping up potion ingredients. She’d brought more than enough, too.  With this potion a little goes a long way, she’d assured him, and she proved herself right. Sip after agonising sip of the sludge-like fluid had patients perking up already. She’d even been able to slip in a lyrium potion or two to keep Bethany and Anders running late into the evening. 

She hummed a cheery little tune to herself as she stirred away, serving patients with a smile and a joke. She made it look so easy, but she had to tired by now...

The clinic finally began to slow around midnight, most of the patients had cleared out and those that remained were asleep. Hawke had sent Bethany home before sundown-- Leandra got nervous when Bethany was out late, apparently-- so it was just the two of them that remained, in the back of the clinic. Anders was warming himself by the fireplace, hands gripping his mug tightly to keep them from trembling with exhaustion, as he sipped the tea Hawke had pushed into his hands. It smelled like like home somehow-- Ferelden. 

Mint, fennel and elfroot, sweetened with honey.

Hawke bit back a yawn, she was sat on a stool, scrubbing out his old cauldron-- he’d gotten it second-hand after he’d set up shop down here.

Her curly brown hair was tied back with a white rag, and at some point she had lost her overshirt, leaving her in tight camisole. Anders tried desperately to ignore how it gave him the perfect view of the way her chest heaved as she worked. Her toned, tanned arms were in full view, every inch of her skin patterned intricately with freckles. Sweat dripped down her neck into the valley between her breasts and Anders cleared his throat in an attempt to clear his thoughts.

“Thank you for today, really. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” He fixed his gaze on hers once more. She was smiling at him with something that looked like admiration her amber eyes, and he didn’t know if that terrified him or turned him on. 

Maybe both.

“I can’t believe you do this every day… I don’t even think I can stand back up…” Hawke leaned back, setting the cauldron aside so she could stretch, letting out a sweet sound of satisfaction at the relief on her sore muscles.

Anders nearly cursed aloud when Justice forced him to avert his gaze.

“It’s not always this bad…” He stammered out, as Hawke stood focusing his eyes on the hearth, where the fire had burned down to coals. She was looking at him again. He could see it from the corner of his eye, she was studying him intently, it seemed. 

The silence hung over them--warm, wanting, and not quite comfortable. 

Anders wanted to thank her again, but he couldn’t find the words. He still couldn’t believe she’d come at all. Completely unprompted, unasked. He’d asked her a few hours in what she was doing there and all she’d said was that Varric told her was busy at the clinic and she wanted to help. She didn’t say how she got the herbs or found the time, in her busy schedule though, and Anders thought that maybe he should ask if he could pay for those... not that he could afford them, he thought bitterly. 

The silence was broken by Hawke bursting into a fit of giggles. 

He looked at her, brow creasing. She was… Odd. Always smiling, always laughing at something or other. She’d tripped over her feet on the way up the Chantry steps that first night they’d met and he could’ve sworn her laugh echoed through all of Hightown, far too loud for someone as small in stature as she. In that moment she’d put him at ease, and even though his meeting with Karl went as terribly as it did she stuck by his side, even inviting him out on jobs with her in the days after, knowing full well that he could use the money, and time out of Darktown. 

Her eyes glimmered with mirth as she turned to him.

“I just realised I never told you my name.”

Huh. 

So she hadn’t. 

It was strange, given how much they’d been through together in the, what, few weeks? Since they’d met? Anders found himself laughing alongside her. 

Maybe they were delirious-- maybe the fever had finally caught up to them-- but Maker did the two of them laugh.  A gross, hard day full of grief and sickness that had left them both worn and covered in vomit and the pair laughed themselves to tears. 

Justice was confused. Anders was laughing. Why was Anders laughing? 

Anders didn’t quite know the answer himself, but he figured it didn’t matter as Hawke extended a hand to him. 

“I’m Minerva Marian Hawke, and you are?”

He took her hand in his. His handshake was a little too firm in an attempt to disguise how his hands were trembling. 

“Anders. Just Anders.”

“Just Anders, hm? Coooool~” She grinned, voice regaining its familiar teasing quality. He couldn’t help but return her grin. “Well, Just Anders, I’ll come by tomorrow, okay? I think it’s time to get some rest. Both of us, okay?” Her eyes flickered over him, an expression of genuine concern on her face. Anders didn’t know what he’d done to earn such kindness from her, but he couldn’t deny the way it made his heart pound in his chest.

She smiled her farewell and turned to leave.

“Goodnight, Minerva.” Her name tasted sweet on his lips. “And thank you.”

[phoenixblack89]

Secret Crushes III: Cinemas, Love Notes & Cuddling

Hallo again my lovelies!

Here's part three for ya.

Part 1 Part 2

Tags: @fandomsaremykryponite @autocon23 @lilythemadqueen @writingdeadangel @boondoctorwho @darylsgirl @browneyes528

You were stressed out and panicking. 

After your sister's outburst the other day in the woods, Murphy had been avoiding you somewhat. It seemed her threat had made him back off. It rattled you to the core that maybe she was right. Maybe Murphy was an asshole. 

You sighed and flopped down on your bed and groaned. 

The weekend was dragging like crazy, as had the week at school watching her and Connor suck face while you'd glance  towards Murphy hoping to catch his eye but he was always looking away.  

You felt so alone.  

Like you'd made the biggest mistake of your life by giving the darker haired twin something so special, your virginity, allowing him to use his mouth on you like that... But he had said such sweet things... Made you believe him when he called you beautiful.... 

"Y/N!" 

Your father's loud and slightly angry voice called from the hall. You groaned again and padded out of your room and leaned over the bannister rail. Your eyes took in the form of your dad's broad and tense shoulders and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.  Your sister was hugging your father happily, which was odd, considering she'd been in a foul mood since they had returned and grounded her for the month following last week's party. 

"Y/N! Get ye butt down 'ere now!" Your dad's Irish accent thick with annoyance. You sighed and walked down the stairs slowly, eyes widening as you took in the sight before you. 

Smirking brightly, the elder MacManus twin nudged his brother, glancing you up and down. An act your father and sister thankfully missed. You flushed, realising you had yet to change out of your pajamas - a pair of short, bright green shorts and a tight spaghetti strapped top that left little to the imagination. 

Your father sighed at you as your eyes flickered to Murphy, whose eyes were focused on your chest as you folded your arms. You blushed under his glare and turned to your father. 

"Go get dressed." He growled. 

"Why daddy?" 

"This gentleman wants t' take ye sister t' the cinemas" He gestured towards Connor, "however, as she is still grounded fer dat ridiculous party," your sister lowered her head in mock shame, barely able to hide her smirk. "You are going t' go wit' her. You will stick t' yer sister like glue. Yer both must be together when yer come home."

"Oh..." you reply, feeling eyes run over you once more. You glanced at Murphy, but his eyes were firmly fixed on his shoes, your head turned slightly to Connor, who licked his lips as his eyes ran down you. "Erm... I... I.... I better get dressed then."

"Go. I need t' talk t' these boys and set some firm ground rules." Your dad all but growled, which made Connor and Murphy flinch. 

You ran to your room, your sister quickly following and closing your door quietly behind you. You sighed and grabbed some clothes out of your closet, which your sister threw to the floor. 

"I need you to distract Murphy tonight." She whispered, pulling clothes out your closet and pushing them into your arms. 

"Sara... Thought you said he wasn't good enough for me and has to keep his hands off your baby sister? Huh?" Your replied, your voice muffled as you dressed. 

"Look... I'm sorry. I was kinda jealous... And it is my job as big sister to try and protect you. I'm sorry." She wrapped her arms around you and rested her head against yours softly. "Besides.... I do owe you one. For not squealing on me about the whole barn thing."

"Get off me woman! Fine... I'll try. Though I doubt it'll do any good.... He took ya warning pretty seriously." You sighed, as your sister slumped more of her weight into you. You shove her off and start putting a little make up on. Just enough to highlight y/e/c eyes but still look natural. She smiled and took it from you and quickly applied just the right amount. You glance in your mirror and smiled. 

Your sister should be a make up artist you mussed, she'd added more than you usually wore but she had brought out your features perfectly.  

You actually felt pretty for once. 

She grabbed your hand after you finished getting dressed and pulled you downstairs to the lounge where the MacManus boys sat quietly on one sofa as your dad glared at them from the armchair. He rose and gave you both a hug and shooed you all out of the house with a quiet warning to the twins to have you both home by 11pm.

Your sister laughed as Connor's hand once more left the stirring wheel to run along her thigh. You rolled your eyes as Murphy scowled at his brother. 

"Keep ye fuckin' eyes on the road man!" He growled and crossed his arms over his broad chest. You ducked your head and bit your lip, eyes raking down his shirt which strained tightly against his chest. The buttons seemingly ready to pop open at the slightest expansion of his breathing. Murphy gave you a nudge and flicked his hand towards you, a simple, white folded piece of paper between his fingers. You crossed your eyebrows in confusion as he nodded to his hand again. You gently slipped your hand across the seats and took it from him and lay it in your lap.  You gave him another look and he nodded at the note, twirling a pencil in his fingers absentmindly. 

You unfolded the note and gave Murphy a quick glance to catch his eye but he was looking out the window. 

Do ye forgive me? 

You smiled as Murphy's hand came into your view, holding the pencil between two of the slender digits. You bit your lip and took the pencil, scrawling a reply. 

For? 

Ignoring ye the last week

Why did you do that? 

Ye sister is fuckin' scary. 

Haha not as scary as dad

Aye. So do ye?

Depends... 

On? 

If you earn it...

Murphy smirked at you as his eyes scanned the note. He shifted his body slightly as the car rounded a corner, using the turn as an excuse to get closer to you. Sara glanced in the rearview mirror and caught your eyes. She nodded her towards Murphy and wiggled her eyebrow before smiling widely as Murphy's hand landed on your knee. You smirked at her and glanced back at Murphy as his other hand cupped your cheek softly. 

He leaned in and brushed your lips with his, not noticing his brother glancing at you in the mirror as well.  

Murphy's tongue flicked at your bottom lip for access, which you granted and gave a little moan as he ran his tongue around yours. His hand gripping your hip gently and sliding under your shirt to run his thumb across your hip bone. His grip tightening as you kissed him deeply. You parted breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours. 

"Have I earned ye forgiveness then?" He whispered against your lips. You bit your bottom lip and nodded before kissing him once more. 

"Fuck!" Connor yelled as the car swerved to the right wildly before he regained control of the car. Murphy being pushed across the seat to land with his face in your lap. You blushed bright red as he straightened and licked his lip. You both glanced towards thee front of the car and paled. Your sister's body was laid across the seats with her head dipping up and down into Connor's lap. The slurping sounds turned your stomach and you blushed in embarrassment. "Oh god...." 

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ! Could ye nat wait til we weren't wit' ya? Fuckin' hell man!" Murphy complained, covering his eyes and yours. Connor continued to moan and pant for several more minutes, the volume increasing steadily until he braked suddenly and gave a deep gutteral groan. Murphy gave a gag of disgust at his brother and his hand over your eyes tighten slightly. 

"Ye fucking idiot! Could've killed us all! Carrying on like that!" Murphy whined as he uncovered his eyes then yours, once sure your sister had resumed her seat. Sara smirked at your red face in the rear view mirror as she wiped her mouth, winking at Murphy who scoffed and folded his arms.

"Hey Murphy..." 

"Aye?"

"If you're lucky maybe my sweet baby sister will give you one once we get to the cinema." Sara laughed, watching your face and Murphy's change colour several times.

You gave a nervous laugh and buried your face into your shoulder, leaning your too warm face against the cool glass of the window. 

Fuck.... Would he expect me to? You panicked, blocking out all sound inside the car. I can't do that! I don't know how! Oh my god... What if he does and I can't get him to cum? Oh my god... Oh my god... Oh my god! 

The internal panic didn't fade at all during the rest of the car ride, nor did it as you got to the cinema or when you were buying your snacks or even entering the theatre. It was still there as you and Murphy separated from your sister and his twin. You were nervous to say the least. 

Murphy smiled at you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, settling comfortably close as you sat in your chosen seats at the back of the theatre. You gulped as you stared at the big blank screen. 

"Ye alright beautiful? Ye tense as hell." Murphy whispered into your ear as the screen lit up and his hand ran along your arm softly. You nodded and bit your lip, nerves fired beyond relief.

"I'm fine... Its just... Never mind." You were thankful that the room was near darkness as your face turned bright red. 

"What? Tell me" 

"It's stupid..."

"If somethin' bothering ye, ye can tell me. I promise I won't laugh." He whispered, brushing your ear lightly with his lips as his hand gently kneaded your thigh. "Is it what Sara said? Cos I wouldn't ever force ye t' do summit ye ain't willing t'..." 

You nod and turn to face him slightly, your eyes not meeting his. Murphy chuckles lowly and runs his hand from behind your head to cup your cheek bringing your lips to his gently. You sigh into the kiss as his other hand trails along your thigh and cups your core gently. You pull away and glance around nervously. Thankful everyone's attention is on the screen in front of you. 

"Relax beautiful. No one's lookin' at us. Let me really earn ye forgiveness..." 

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip harshly as Murphy's talented fingers slip under your underwear and begin to stroke your heated pussy softly, teasingly. You gasp as one briefly grazes your clit and his lip begin to suck and nip at the delicate skin of your neck. You subconsciously shift your hips to grant him more access as his fingers dip between your slicken folds. You give a little whine as his fingers explore your inner walls slowly, feeling him smirk against your neck which was sure to be a lovely shade of purple from his constant attention. You'd definitely need to wear a high collared shirt tomorrow.

Your fingers scrambled to his wrist as his thumb begins to circle your clit in time to his thrusting digits. Your other hand finds his hair and pulls him to your mouth, sealing his mouth to yours hungrily. Your toes curl in your shoes as you suddenly orgasm around his hand and nearly shriek. Luckily the loud explosion on the screen covers your shriek of unexpected pleasure. Murphy laughs as he massages you down from your leg shaking orgasm. 

"Murphy... Wow.... Fuck..." You pant, smiling softly against his chest as he pulls you into a tight hug, kissing you gently once more. 

"Ferget what ye sister said. I ain't gonna ask ye t' do that. Unless ye ready." He smiles as you snuggle against his chest and begin watching the movie, despite having missed the first 35 minutes of it due to Murphy's wonderful hands. 

It was truly a perfect date you smiled to yourself, feeling Murphy press his lips to your head once more. 

And you couldn't wait to see what else the night had in store. 

[oingo233]

Rapture is a Boy (3)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior?  And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader

Warning: angst, cuss words, self-doubt, angst, cheating, angst (but not as much as there will be later mwhahaha)  

Authors note: I try to keep my writing(self inserts) gender, body type, ethnicity and house neutral/not specified.  If I ever slip up please let me know so that I can change it.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Word Count: 3k

                                                     Part Three

                           ****After All This Time, There is No Love****

The common room walls seemed to pulse with the vibrations of the song, every ear in the room being invaded with music, cheers, laughter, and somewhere for some odd reason, screaming.  Screams of joy of course. The party was alive and everyone had large smiles and butterbeer slipping through giggles or being shared through a kiss. This party would surely be talked about in the weeks to come.

But I was having a harder time of letting loose, and it would seem Lily is too.  For our very reason for throwing the party could not make it, so what the hell was the point?  Remus was off studying, James was off studying, so we had no lips to lock with our own, no body to dance and grip to, no one to have fun with in the way we wanted to tonight.  Lily was sipping on a butterbeer, staring at the portrait with me, hoping they’d walk through.

“Ladies...” A hufflepuff named Paul collided into our sides, looping his arms around our shoulder.  Lily to his right, I to his left.  He was staring drunkenly at the portrait with us, his eyes going large and then small, as if he was searching for something. “What are we doing?” He chuckles to himself.

“I mmmeann seriousllyy, if-if you’re waiting for a snnog anny onne here will step up.  Lilyy that is, she’s sinngle. I’d snnog you though (y/n) but Remmuss might tear mee apart-a-apart me.” He slurs, leaning in close to my face. “Pre,’ He mutters to himself “pretty,” he laughs again and saunters off, swaying his hips to the music, declaring he’ll chug another jug of butterbeer. I look at Lily and she stares back at me, mouth open and my own fighting a smile. Before we know it, we’re cackling like the bunch of witches/wizards we are.

“This is the worst, mission failed! M’ sorry Remus couldn’t make it,” Lily says, huffing hair out of her drink.  The fire burning only brought out the red of her hair, she looked apart of the flame herself.  I see why James was in love with her, she got her wits, charm, beauty, and kindness. So why would he miss this time to be with her?  Does Peter really need the whole lot of them?  

“mmmh,” I agree wordlessly, “M’ sorry James couldn’t.” She sighs into her drink, cheeks burning and she looks up at me.

“Me too.” She mumbles. I’m taken aback to say the very least.  I was always just teasing, I mean I had a hunch sure, but for her to really admit it. Well, I’m not proud to say that I stood there like a daft cow for roughly 5 minutes before she groaned and bumped her shoulder into mine. Hiding her smile and embarrassment with a final swig of her drink.  

“I- you- James?” Is all I can seem to get out of me, shock makes ya useless it seems.  She nods slowly.

“Yes, I thought you knew already.” She shrugs, turning towards the raging crowd of drunk witches and wizards.  

“Well, yeah..” I shrug just as cooly and she laughs, pushing me with her arm again.

“Stop, you did not because Remus doesn’t know, and you tell him everything.” She points out, but soon regrets it as my smile grows wickedly large.

“(y/n)!” But I was already half way through the portrait, muttering to myself just loud enough for her to hear.

“Remus! Remus, I’ve got to tell Remus!” I’m laughing hysterically as she chases me through the corridors, our robes trailing behind us like a little sea of black rolling by our angles.

“No! Please, don't!” She yells after me, both of us out of breath by the time we reach the same corridor as the library.  “I’ll hex you...” She glares at me as we walk swiftly up to the library doors.  Now, of course I would never ever snitch such a thing to anyone.  This is Lily’s long kept secret and when I had my unrequited love for Remus she didn’t go blabbering it to him or anyone else, so of course I would return the favor of silence.  My plan was to simply lead her to James, where they can now confess their undying love for one another after the secrets already out.  But she didn’t know this.

“You won’t hex me Lily dear, you’re not that against James knowing.  Why don’t you tell Remus yourself, or better yet, James!’’ I exclaim, smiling to myself for my own genius.  God, Remus will be in more of a shock than I, all the boys will, no one more than James. She tilts her head in disappointment directed at me, we raise our hands and together we open the doors.

We are first greeted with an indifferent glance in our direction from Pince.  We smile at her and nod our heads in her direction, then walk slowly (as in I’m matching Lily’s pace which is practically the march of dread) to the table the marauders usually sit. The table has all of our names scratched into the bottom.

I wish Lily would walk faster because I was bouncing to see Remus, he quickly apologized to me once again for being dismissive and it led to quite the kiss (or two) and left us with some unfinished business.  We turned the corner of a large bookshelf and where we were expecting to see the boys, we instead saw no one at all.

“Where are they?” I ask Lily, she shrugs beside me, just as confused.  Though her shoulders are slumped with either relief or disappointment, from the look on her face I can tell it is a mix of both. “Come,” I say wrapping my arm around her shoulder, “They’re bound to be here somewhere, yeah?”  She mumbled back a yeah to me, and together we searched the entirety of the library.

But it was a waste of time.  Hardly anyone was there, and certainly not the loud (yes, even when they study) boys we came here for.

But we did find someone of interest, walking back along the corridors we found someone perched by the window, staring out towards the forbidden forest, towards the shrieking shack. Lucy. Lucy is girl by the window. She looked worried.

I swallowed my pride and my anger. It’s irrational, I told myself, my emotions talking, not fact. I did all of this just to take two step towards her and ask a simple question.  But the answer was anything but.

“Are you okay? And before you lie to us, you should know that we genuinely are good listeners and I like to think quite non-judgmental and-” Though I swallowed so much, I could not swallow my stress ranting, the one that spawns when I am put in uncomfortable situations, such as this one. A curse truly. But thankfully Lily cuts me off.

“Yes, so uhm... are you?” Lily asks.  Lucy doesn’t even turn to us, she bites her lip and continues to stare out the window.  We almost go to ask again, thinking she hadn’t heard us.  But she starts speaking, her gaze never leaving the shack before her.

“I guess it’s always good to talk about our problems,” She laughs to herself, “Remus tells me that, says bottling things up only make it worse.  I’m worried about him actually.  Remus, do you know hi-” Her words fall short as she turns around and sees the expression on my face.  Remus.  She is worried about Remus, my boyfriend.  Why was she worried? Why was he not in the library where he said he would be?  What does Lucy know that I do not? 

Why does she care about Remus enough to sit and stare out of a window for hours? I quickly came back the conclusion that Remus was lying to me, about where he was, and who he loves. He has been cheating on me.

I stager backwards and Lily grasps my hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. 

“Are you two friends?” She asks, without venom or even a quiver in her lip, but I felt like my world was crashing down. I was thankful she asked the question because I wouldn’t have been as composed.

“Yes, er- sort of, closer than friends actually” She smiles to herself like she just said the sweetest thing. But it was just another stab to the heart, another hand constricting my throat.  Not very convincing Lucy, I think to myself. Lily squeezes my hand again and goes to lead us away but Lucy begins to speak again.

“You’re (y/n) right?” She knows me. She knows me?  I nod numbly and Lily quickly says goodbye for us, and rushes us away. She partly carries me through the portrait, I trail lamely behind her, not able of thought. She trudges us up the stairs to her bed where she promptly lets me sit and breakdown.

“Lily...” I don’t get to finish the sentence before she pulls me in for a hug, I didn’t realize how hard I was crying until my sobs made our shoulders hit into one another. She hugs me tighter, running her hands through my hair.  Shhhsing me softly, and whispering sweet things in my ear.

“I love him, I love him so much,” I cry out, fisting her shirt in my hands. I think I feel her wipe away a tear of her own. God, I must be such a mess to make Lily herself cry. But I am a mess.  I feel as though my very home has been taken away from me.  This boy I gave my heart to, this boy I gave my very own body and love to, was giving it all to someone else.  I confided in him, I trusted him, hell I’d even die for him.  But he was playing me, he was using me. I have been loving a stranger.

“He doesn’t love me...”Is all I can mumble to myself again and again, rocking in Lily's embrace. We lay there until sleep takes us. None of the girls wake us up whether I belonged in Lily's bed or not, they noticed the way my face seemed blotchy and I was frowning in my sleep.  But more than that they saw the tired look in Lily’s expression, and the rage hidden deep within.

I woke up to the sound of rustling clothes, and parchment.  The sound of the girls dormitory coming alive, and everyone preparing for the schools day ahead.  I didn’t want to wake up.  I wanted to lie there until I grew the strength to face my worst fear.  Until I grew the confidence to walk out there, to love myself again when I felt anything other than beautiful or good. I felt disgusting, what was wrong with me that would make Remus feel the need to be with another?  No, I didn’t want to get up until I was healed, until time would reverse itself completely.

But nonetheless I got up, because Lily was worried and Lily was watching and Lily was there to hold my hand and reassure me that I was wonderful, and worthy of love.  That it was Remus.  My Remus.  Lucy’s Remus, it doesn’t matter.  I love him, I still do.  After all that happened, I wish love was something I could tear from me and leave behind, but it was at first a beautiful flower in my heart and now it is just a dead weed stuck in cracks.  I will never be able to get it out.

Lily silently sits me on the edge of the bed. She fixes my hair for me, and wipes at my cheeks, and gives me a tissue.  I blow into it, she throws it out.  She kisses my cheek and waits for me to get dressed.  

At last, we make our way through the sea of students and staff to the great hall.  The laughter of fellow students makes the lump in my throat all that much larger.  My hands begin to shake and so Lily holds it within her own.

“Look at me love,” She says, “Remus does not deserve ya after the shite he pulled.  Ya need to talk to him love, you need to break up with him yeah?  Feel the freedom in your new single life and get out there.  Paul said he’d snog ya, yeah?” I know she was trying to make me feel better, and it almost worked.  Almost.  But I was still very much in love with him, I don’t know if I can move on.  After knowing Remus so intimately, how could I?  Nonetheless I swallow my despair and nod slowly to her.  She lets go of my hands and we walk straight to the Gryffindor table.  Straight to the boys.

My heart swallowed itself whole when I caught sight of Remus.  He looked tired, exhausted even.  His skin pale, and he looked in pain.  The other boys didn’t look any more alive, but they were laughing with one another, though in a more sedated way.  Remus was in his own world, reading a muggle book I gave him a while ago.  He promised he’d tell me all about it and that we’d find a way to watch the muggle movies when we can.  We never will.

My sadness is suddenly replaced with an intense anger.  With rage and hurt I walk right up to the table, I stand behind Remus. The other boys look up at Lily and me with easy smiles, but they drop as they soon further dissect our appearance and with it our mood. Sirius goes to wolf whistle as if he was excited by the fact one of the boys were about to get hounded into, but Lily raises a hand and stops all sound at the boys part of the table.

I clear my throat.  He is still reading, he smiles to himself as he reaches a rather humorous part of the book.  

“Remus,” I call, my voice sickly sweet, it seems to shock Lily. She begins to walk back, not wanting to be in the middle of the spitfire.  But the boys seems to soak in the scene with amusement. Remus hums in response, and puts his thumb near the edge like he does when he is about to finish a line and then close the book, but I was above waiting now.

“Could you Remus, for 5 seconds perhaps give me more attention when I speak to you than some fucking book.  It’s like I’m talking to a godamn wall!’‘ I lose my temper near the end, and now half of the table was staring at us.  Remus doesn’t even bother to mark the page, he places the book down and whips around to me with wide eyes. The boys no longer looking humored at all, everyone is giving me odds looks.  I’ve never once acted this way with Remus, all our previous arguments were resolved rather quickly.

“Great,” I smile too big at him, then turn to the boys. Every word dripping sarcasm and fake calm. Remus only frowns more, his eyes darting across my face and than to Lily searching for an answer.

“Now, could you all leave us be or are you going to be obnoxious flies on said wall while I speak to my boyfriend for the little amount of time I have managed to grab his attention?” I grit out every word, as if fighting my anger, I did not mean to be so hurtful but I am very hurt myself.  Did the rest of boys know about Remus cheating?  Instead of leaving, they stare at me in shock, after some time of staring James goes to ask why I am being so rude but I cut him off.

“You know what?” My voice cracks, I am losing my resolve.  With every second I spend staring deeper into Remus’s eyes my anger fades into sadness.  A great sea of sadness.  “Never mind, I am being rude. All of you can continue to ignore me completely, Remus, my love,” My voice cracks once again and I will my anger to come back so that I may do what I have to next.  “You keep reading that book of yours and for the love of god don’t stop for anything, I mean don’t ever stop because what on earth could be of a more pressing matter?  And boys, keep your sweet asses locked in place because I do always forget how much of fucking arseholes the whole lot of you are!” Remus stands up abruptly and caresses my forearm, he wishes for us to talk somewhere more privately but I jump back at his touch.   

My lips curl up in a snarl “We’re over Remus!  You cheat!  You fucking liar!”  I yell loud enough for the whole of Gryffindor table to hear, my anger has run from me completely and now nothing is left but Remus’s eyes staring deep into mine.  

His eyes, as they well up with tears and dart around the room.  His eyes growing red and defensive at all the people looking back at him. His eyes meeting mine once more, his mouth falling open and closing again.  He goes to speak, but at last, I watch as he can’t hold the tears back anymore. He rubs aggressively at his eyes, and rushes out of the great hall.  His friends racing after him, not before Sirius shoots me a dirty look and James questions Lily with his eyes.  

And then it was done. The students begin to whisper behind hands and poke their fingers in our direction.  The great hall filling up once again with chatter and gossip, I feel the color drain from my face and every feeling I previously had becomes overtaken with grief.  It is over.  I have lost him.  After all this time, there is no love.

Lily catches me before I fall.  She is now the one to rush me through the doors of the great hall, but we are stopped short.  Stopped by the sound of horrible, horrible sobs and 3 boys trying their hardest to silence them.  To comfort him. No pain in that moment would come to compare to the miserable feeling I’d carry around after that night.  After seeing him lying there, body racked with sobs because of me.

Sirius looks up, he looks as though he is in pain as he bounces his leg and runs a hand through his hair.  He looks around, anywhere but his broken friend.  But then our eyes meet.  

He begins to walk over to us, Lily stands as my guard.  But nothing could protect me from the onslaught that is an angry Sirius Black...

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess @1975weasley​  @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain@nicodoesntexist

[hurricanery]

every other freckle

A/N: I got this prompt requesting something from Link’s POV and I struggggggled with that concept but here it is. Something very random and fluffy bc next week’s promo is scaring me and I wanted to write something cute to distract myself. This is also basically my love letter to season 15 amelink bc I miss them so very much. Hope you enjoy & as always feedback and prompts are welcome <3

_______

Sometimes she snores.

And it makes Link smile.

Like right now. She’s snoring, but just barely. It’s faint. And it’s rare.

She’s a quiet sleeper. Sometimes she sleeps so soundlessly, that Link almost finds himself questioning whether she’s actually breathing, eyes scanning for the rise and fall of her chest. Just to make sure.

This morning though, there’s no question about it. The light snore only ever occurs when she’s in a deep sleep. And this is one of those occurrences.

It’s a Sunday morning. Which means they don’t have anywhere to be. But Link is wide awake anyway. Amelia faces him, curled into herself slightly, her faint snores fluttering against the stray pieces of dark hair that rest over her cheek. She sleeps on her side, and Link mirrors her position. She has her free arm draped between them, the arm that’s not currently trapped underneath her. And her hand loosely grasps his t-shirt, even in sleep.

This is when Link is most content, he thinks. On Sunday mornings. When they have no obligations other than to be exactly where they are. Sometimes he thinks he wants to live in Sunday mornings forever.

Amelia sighs. And her hand twitches slightly against him. But she doesn’t wake. Link's smile widens, and he reaches his own hand forward to begin gently tracing a pattern over her bare arm. She has a freckle on her shoulder, just to the right of her tank top strap, and another freckle on the outside of her wrist. Link traces a route, lightly with his finger, from one freckle all the way down to the other. Up and down. Back and forth.

Amelia shivers and Link halts his finger. Her eyes don’t open, but the absence of her snores is his first indication.

“What are you doing?” she mumbles, voice hoarse.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Her eyes blink open, adjusting to his stare.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

Link ignores her question. A question she likely already knows the answer to. He resumes his finger’s pattern against her arm, and a moment later, he speaks again.

“You have a lot of freckles.”

Amelia frowns.

“I do not.”

“Why do you say that so defensively?” He chuckles, and his finger continues it’s zig zag from one mark on her arm, onto the next.

It causes her to shiver again and Link grins, shifting his eyes to hers.

“Cold?” He sounds smug.

“No,” and she sounds pointed. “You know that tickles.”

He stops his movement, fingers coming to rest against her wrist. Her eyes slip shut again and Link watches her face.

Another of his favorite things about Sunday mornings, when they have nowhere to be, is that they get to experience the morning sun from bed. The way it shines through the translucent material of the curtains and gives the room a warm glow. It highlights their bare faces and makes everything feel revitalizing.  

“You have freckles on your face, too.”

“Shh,” she mutters, frowning as she buries the side of her face deeper into her pillow. “I’m trying to go back to sleep.”

Link exhales on a smile, but nods to himself. He relaxes into his own pillow, too. In an attempt to incite a little more sleep.

Moments later, he feels cold feet press between his shins, attempting to bury their way into his warmth. His eyes jolt open. It’s a common occurrence, something Amelia’s made a habit of. But every time she does it, it still gives him that initial shock. He looks at her, and her eyes are still closed, like she’s on the brink of sleep again. And it makes Link want to laugh, her ability to always be touching him in some capacity, especially so absentmindedly. It makes him think about how far they’ve come.

It had started physically for them. Their entire relationship. It was based on physical touch. It had very recently grown into something more, but it had surely started that way.

‘Alternative pain relief,’ Amelia had called it.

Link lays in bed now, feeling her feet tangle with his, and he thinks all the way back to the beginning. How they even got here, to this particular Sunday morning.

It had been a false start. The first time they really spoke. An ill-advised proposal for a dinner date had unfortunately led to some animosity on her part.

“Are you asking me out?” she’d question his intentions incredulously.

“I heard you like Italian food…”

Her face fell. And Link recoiled.

A false start.

And then the next time they interacted, it was the same but different. An almost change of heart.

But horrible timing.

A mass overdose in the park had led to an overcrowded ER, and major stress on everyone involved.

He remembers the way her face had twisted at the news. One second, they’d been discussing escape hatches and trips to Barbados. And then the next, they’d been discussing the outcome of a teenage boy that Link couldn’t successfully revive.

But it wasn’t just any teenage boy.

“I knew him.” Amelia’s expression had haunted him in the moment, and it still haunts him now. “That kid...he was….”

He’d stepped forward.

“He was a good kid. He wasn’t a bad kid.” She shook her head, battling with the idea that the argument even had to be made.

And Link had nodded slowly.

“I’m gonna have to call his parents.”

“I could take care of that.” He’d offered. Desperate for anything to combat the distress that invaded her face and voice.

“No. No I’m-” She’d cut herself off, and Link felt panic rise in his chest. He barely knew her. But he’d felt strangely protective of her. He’d battled with the decision of how to help her.

“Thank you.”

She’d turned away from him, but Link had caught a glimpse of it. Her expression as she fought off a full-body sob.

“I’m so sorry.” And it had been evident in her voice too.

“It’s okay.” It’s all he could come up with, as he stepped around her, towards her. In a protective way. Like he’d been trying to cover her from the people that surrounded them in the hallway.

“I’m sorry.”

He’d felt so inclined to comfort her. To reach a hand up and rest it against her back as she keeled over on top of the cot in the hallway.

She’d let out a broken sob. And it’s still one of the most devastating sounds Link can ever recall hearing.

And he wholeheartedly regrets the way his hand had dropped to his side, and not gently against her back, like he’d intended.

Because he’d battled with it. Hesitated. Stuck on the predicament of how to comfort her.

He regrets it currently. As he lays in bed and watches her sleep. And he can’t help but reach forward and touch her now. Like he’s overcompensating for the way he’d reacted then. Because he was so close in the moment, to acting on his instinct. But it just wasn’t enough.

So he does it now. His fingers find their way back to her arm, in a similar pattern to before, and the action reminds him of New York. Again of the early stages.

It started as purely physical. Just sex. No sleepovers. And that’s the way Amelia had labeled it.

But, in a hotel room in New York, Link had done it almost absentmindedly.

He’d run his fingers up and down her arm in an intimate way. He’d never done it before, but it felt right. And he swore he saw a wave of emotions cross Amelia’s face at his actions. Like she’d actually quite liked the feeling. Or maybe she was scared to like the feeling. And so she’d climbed out of his bed, removed herself completely from that revelation.

Link chuckles to himself at the memory, as he re-creates that same motion against her arm. Because now they're in her bed. And it is intimate. Yet there’s no revelation on Amelia’s part, because the light touch is such habit by now.

“Why are you laughing?”

Link startles at the sound of her voice, once again surprised to learn that she’s awake.  

“I’m just thinking about you.” He answers honestly.

She groans. Because she’s not a conversationalist in the morning. And especially not a romanticist.

“Well, you’re thinking really loud,” she huffs out a sigh, turning over in bed.

“I’m sorry,” he stifles a laugh, reaching forward to tap his finger against her shoulder blade. “I’ll be quiet now.”

When she turns back over to face him, she’s grinning.

“Can we just….stay in bed all day?” She whispers.

“Of course,” Link mirrors her grin. “I already thought that was the plan.”

She looks him up and down, in the same way she always does when she’s deciding her next move. Deciding how she’s going to eliminate the space between them.

Link knows the face, and in response he opens his arms to her. She bites down on a smile as she shifts forward, burying her face in his chest and sighing in content. He wraps his arms around her and gives a gentle squeeze as they settle into the position.

And they both quickly drift towards sleep again.

_______

When Link eventually blinks awake, he has no idea how much time has passed. He registers one thing, though, as his eyes adjust.

And that’s Amelia’s stare.

She faces him, eyes wide like she’s just been caught.

Link clears his throat.

“Are you the one watching me sleep, now?”

“Maybe.”

Link laughs a bit, under his breath. Still slowly waking up.

“Have I ever made you my waffle recipe?” Amelia sounds eager, her tone far more awake and alert than Link feels. He thinks he has some catching up to do.

“I don’t think you have.”

She rolls over, swinging her legs over the bed and setting her feet on the floor.

“Amelia?”

She stands, tossing a robe on as she moves towards the door.

“Stay here,” she says simply.

“Where are you going?”

She pauses, looking once more in his direction before leaving the room.

“Just stay here,” she grins hugely. “We’ll eat in bed.”

A warmth fills Link’s chest, one that matches the morning glow of the room. He rolls onto his back with a gratified exhale, as his thoughts from earlier echo into his mind.

He thinks he wants to live in Sunday mornings forever.

//

[elphiej]

Be My Light: Chapter 1 Shadows from Our Past

*Pairing: Yoonig X Reader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: Language, violence, gun fight, mentions of abuse, mention for drugs. 

Author’s note: Hi everyone, here is chapter one. My editor and I had some conversations about the length; they wanted to shorten it and I wanted to leave it in tact for the sake of the flow. Let me know if the length is too long or not. Also, there are a bunch of easter eggs (bangtan lyrics, iconic outfits, ect. as we continue) let me know what you find. And, of course, thank you for reading and let me know what you liked. 

Tag list: @lalalalaloo-blog​, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng​, @barbikatherine​, @mrsfortune1306​

The sun had just begun to fill the windows of the Lotus Apartment when you stepped out of your unit, coffee tumbler in one hand and bag slung over one shoulder , ready for a gruelingly long shift at Central Mercy Hospital. You let your eyes scan the corridor for any signs of life; no one else in their right mind would be up this early, yet anxiety had you checking the halls before you felt secure enough to fully exit your apartment. Taking out your keys, you pull your door shut and lock the two deadbolts that had become necessary in your mind.

And not just because of the active gang activity in this part of the city.

It had been close to three months since you had come to Central. And over four since you had left your miserable excuse of a ‘boyfriend’; The lying, abusive snake that was Daniel.  Just thinking about him made your stomach churn. Your time in Central, alone in your apartment, helped you reflect on your relationship and how toxic it had been. At first, it was nice. He had been your friend. He had been supportive and kind. Then, he was your roommate, taking care of you and being your security in uncertain times. Then, he became your boyfriend. It was nice and normal, something you thought you’d never have. He was protective, at least that’s how you saw it at the time. Looking back now, it was controlling and manipulative. He would say things that you thought were sweet, but now you understood they were horrible things. He said he wanted an obedient, good girl; he’d tower over you and make you feel so small. And for some reason, you believed him. You stayed like that for too long. After you had taken a job, trying to help support the two of you, his behavior got worse. He started to drink, and his abuse became more physical. Afterwards, he’d always say how sorry he was, how much he cared about you, or how he only drank because he was worried about you. Somehow it was always your fault. He wanted you to quit your job at a small medical clinic near his secluded home, but it was your only escape. To make it worse, you found out he had been sleeping with another woman. And still, you stayed with him, because he had fucked your head up so bad that you thought you needed him. The final straw that snapped some sense into you was when you confronted him about the other woman. He had come home from drinking with her and went crazy when you said you were leaving. He screamed, threw you around the apartment, hit you. Then he trapped you against a wall and started choking you. Had you not been able to grab hold of a bottle he had left on an end table and hit him just right, you may not have made it this far.                                

You left that night with just your backpack full of clothes and the few personal belongings that you had with you, your cellphone, and the money in Daniel’s wallet. And you ran all through the night. You didn’t have a plan or destination but you just had to get as far away from him as you could. A small voice under all the doubt and fear that he had piled on you, cheered and drove you to keep going.  You didn’t stop moving until you found a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. The driver had told you it was headed to Central, and something in that name seemed familiar to you. It drew you there like a siren’s call. Central was so large, it felt like it could have classified as a country. It was the perfect place to disappear. As the bus pulled into its terminal, that familiar feeling came back in as you gazed about the large buildings. But you chalked that up to remembering that you and your father moved around a lot.

It was one of the few memories you had like that.

Over the last few months, you had questioned why Daniel had changed so much. He had been the first face you remember seeing after the accident. And he had been the one to break the news to you. There had been a terrible accident, a horrendous car crash. You had been in the passenger seat when the car had broadsided by a drunk driver, sending the car rolling into a ditch. You had survived but your injuries were so severe that you had to be placed in a medical coma, and the trauma had affected your memory. When you woke up, you could remember very little of your past; You remembered that you had studied to be a nurse and recently graduated, that your father had been your only family, and that he had been a high ranking police officer. Daniel’s face was something that you sort of remembered as well, and you figured that was why you clung to him like an anchor. But everything else was wrapped in a dense fog, shattered like pieces of glass that couldn’t be put together. Daniel had, also, broken the news to you that your father hadn’t survived the accident. He stayed close to you for over a year, helping you through therapies, reminding you to take your anxiety medications, and wiping away the tears. He was perfect. But then, it changed. And any time you tried to talk to him about it, he would brush you off or say that he was stressed out, but that he loved you and just let him do what he needed.

What was funny was that in the months since leaving him, a piece of a memory had resurfaced. It was of your father and how he didn’t seem to like Daniel all that much. You could only think of what your father would have said when he saw what his daughter had become. You did remember how he had taught you to be strong and tough, to stand up against the bullies. He would be disappointed now. You rubbed your neck where he had choked you, smelling his alcohol pungent breath as he said so many nasty things to you.

But you got out and for that, anyone should be proud.

Shaking your head from the bad memories, you shoved your keys back into your bag and down the dimly lit hall towards the elevator. You felt a tad silly looking over your shoulder, thinking one day he was gonna show up at your door and drag you back to that unsafe mind set, but you had learned from the support group you had been to that it was normal. Thankfully, you were about to have a long shift to distract you from all those feelings. The intensive care unit had been short staffed, and with the increase in gang activity, everyone was working extra hard.  Central Mercy was the most active hospital in all of Central; the others were less willing to help gang members or those targeted for fear of retaliation. But once they came through the ER doors, it didn’t matter what they were. If they needed help, you would help. Even villains need help, and maybe your help can change them, your father’s voice had echoed from somewhere in the foggy parts of your mind. Also, Central Mercy was the main hospital dealing with the current outbreaks of drug overdoses due to a strange street drug known as U4-1A, a highly addictive and deadly substance that had been making its way through the city. Mercy was more equipped for trying to save the overdoses that kept popping up. You had only seen a few of those cases, but the doctors who had been on the front of those, had described it as a mix of “ecstasy, meth, and cocaine all rolled into one deadly substance”. You shook your head. You didn’t understand why people would do that to themselves. But, then again, who would stay with a person who abused you for so long? As you stepped into the small elevator, you really needed a distraction from all these bad thoughts and your best friend, Amber, should be on her way into work by now. You decided to try and text her.  

Bless that girl, she had been a big part in getting you back into a functioning human being. When you had stepped off the bus in Central, you were overwhelmed by everything. You were scared, tired, and had nowhere to go. You had felt so lonely. You ended up falling asleep on a bench just outside the station. That is where Amber had found you. She felt sorry for you and took you to get some food. Once she had heard your story, though, she brought you back to her loft to help you. She had said she was in your position once, but never explained what she had gone through, and wanted to help turn you around. She had got you into therapy, got you to open up, helped you find a job in her department at Mercy, and found the woman you were sure you had been on track to be before the accident had set you back.

You hit the lobby button on the elevator, then reached in your work bag for your phone as the door shut. You felt your umbrella, wallet, extra shirt, and even your lunch, but not the phone. You prayed that you didn’t leave your phone in the apartment in your sleep deprived haze. It wouldn’t be the first time this week that it had happened. Your anti-anxiety medicine had finally run out, even after you spaced them out over the last few weeks. And your mind had refused to shut off and you had been plagued by nightmares all night. Finally, your fingers had brushed against the plastic case of your phone. You let out a sigh of relief. However, when you pulled it out of your bag, you wished you hadn’t. It had been the phone that Daniel had given you, and the one that Amber had been trying to get you to throw away for months. You remembered having a panic attack when she had taken it from you. It had been one of the only things you could call yours. She had returned it to you after messing with the setting. Amber didn’t want to take any chances of him tracking the phone, not that you thought he could think of that, and told you not to respond to him. He had sent a few messages in the first few days; he said he was sorry and how much he loved you, but you did as Amber had asked. There was a small part of you that wanted to reach out, in secret. Thankfully, the logical part of your brain kept you silent. Amber wanted to block his number for good, but you left it as it was. She had given you a new phone not long after so you wouldn’t be tempted. And you hadn’t turned the old phone on since then. It had been stuffed in a bottom drawer, only reappearing now when you had rushed to grab an extra thick undershirt and stuffed it into the bag without realizing it.

The elevator came to a halt and opened to the empty lobby. You knew there wasn’t much time to decide what to do. You needed a phone- a curse of modern society to not be able to go a day without it. If you decided to go back up to retrieve your real phone, you still had to find it from where it had fallen in the chaos of this morning. And by then, you would miss your bus and be late to work. Technically, this was a working phone. You hit the power button; if it turned on, you would just get on with your day. That was your decision. It sprung to life, still with a good amount of power despite how long it had been in that drawer. The home screen had a picture of you and Daniel. It made you cringe at the sight of those smiling faces. But it worked and that would have to work. Amber may not be too happy to see it, but you’d rather deal with her then your supervisor. Plus, you really had no desire to talk or see Daniel.

Though, that small, needy part in the back of your mind was still wondering if he had still reached out to contact you.

You got your answer as you stepped out onto the chilly, lamp lit sidewalk. Your inbox was full of text messages and voicemails. He must have sent two or three a day since you had run away. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear his voice. But, as you head down the sidewalk to your bus stop, you decided to read through a few of them.

-Y/N, I’m sorry. Please call me.

-I know you’re mad. You have every right to. I’m weak and dumb.

-Please, just let me know you’re ok.

-Honey, I love you. I’ll never drink again.  I never meant to hurt you.

-Please let me know you see these.

-You mean so much to me. I’ll do better. I need you.

-Honey, that girl meant nothing. I can’t live with what I did to you.

-Please call me. Yell at me, hit me. Do anything you want, just come back.

His last message came only two days ago.

-Honey, you must be out of your medicine. Please, just let me give that to you. I won’t bother you anymore. We don’t need to get back together. Whatever you want to do, we can do it. Just let me bring it to you. You need it and I care about you. Please, Y/N, I’m sorry. Please, let’s just talk.

               Wow, you thought, he seems really upset. That small part surged forward again, pushing you to respond since he seemed so sincere. But you shook your head. Amber had brought you to a counseling center she volunteered at where a survivors of domestic violence group met. And based on what they had talked about, and his history, you knew it was best to move on. Though, you were basically out of medicine. You didn’t know the name of it, nor had the prescription for it. Daniel had always taken care of it. There was a doctor at Mercy whom you were close with, Henry Na, who had offered to investigate it for you. So, you had given him the last generic, round, white pill. He had offered to prescribe you a basic anxiety medication to help you while he did some research. He had been a big help, just like Amber to getting you to the state of normalcy you had achieved. Hopefully, he had found something for you. You would wait to see what he had to say before making that decision. Or you could talk to Amber and she would slam the stamp of “HELL NO” on that whole thought.

               Not wanting to continue this train of thought, you sent a quick text to your friend to say you were on your way to the bus, then locked your phone and stuck it in the pocket of your scrubs. You were determined to make the most out of this day. Even after a terrible night, you were going to be with your best friend, seeing some of your favorite patients, and being away from your troubles. You just needed to get to the bus stop and out of the chill of the early morning. You pulled your jacket close to your body and quickened your pace. Living at the far end of town, while cheap, had its disadvantages. There was much gang activity in the outskirts, the bus stops were sparse, and all the main shops were a long way away. At least, for the moment. Ahead, you could see the outline of the new shopping center the government had decided to build in hopes to revitalize this part of the city. And while you were excited that you wouldn’t have to go far to get essentials, you hoped it wouldn’t raise your rent anymore. Your bus stop was just beyond the construction. You hoped that today would prove to be just as exciting as the prospects of the new shopping center.

               Little did you know, in the dim light of the dawn, just how exciting your life was about to become.

~*****************~

               If the outside wasn’t foreboding enough, the inside made up for it. It was dark with only a few work lights scattered around the large, open space. There were tall, arching pillars and small openings along the sides that were meant for food stalls, and a large, empty fountain in the center of the concrete floor. Loose wires hung from the unfinished light fixtures, while high scaffoldings and boxed materials were randomly spaced about. A cold breeze swept through the open doorways, sending dust and debris swirling about Bangtan’s feet as they took echoing steps towards the elevator at the end of the floor. Above them, there were large cut outs in the floor so patrons would peer down at those below, all in interesting and modern designs. Once it was finished, it would be very fancy and high-end, the complete juxtaposition to the traditional and family owned buildings around it. It didn’t belong there.

               Just like we don’t belong here, Suga thought as his eyes wondered about the dim area. Jimin was beside him, the sparse lights glittering off the studded shoulders of his leather bomber jacket. His face was sharp and serious, his eyes constantly moving behind his rose-colored glasses. And Jungkook was trailing behind, dragging the poorly trained spy with him. The bound and blindfolded kid had fought against the maknae’s grip as soon as they entered the construction zone, screaming unintelligently against the gag. It took a good smack on the back of the head and a threat of “knock it off before I knock you out” before he stilled and allowed Jungkook to lead him around. He, even, made an annoyed promise that he would not let him stumble or fall until they turned him over to his team.

               V’s voice rang through the earpiece Suga wore, telling him where to go. The elevator would take them to the top floor, opening to a reception area. And beyond that was the event hall where Choi and his group of assholes were waiting for them. V didn’t see anyone on any other floors, which meant that their passage should be safe. Just as a normal drop should be. But Suga knew that it wasn’t going to be normal. With each step, the uneasy feeling grew. With the confirmation of the General’s presence, old feelings from the past made Suga even more on edge. But he hid it from his younger members. He figured this was a trap; he and RM had talked every conclusion out. They just needed to get in and out as fast as possible. V had set some helpful distractions up if they needed a quick getaway. But all Suga was focused on was dealing with Choi and keeping his dongsaengs safe. He took out his cell and texted a quick update to the leader.

               “This place is huge! I didn’t realize it when V and I came here before. Let’s make sure we come back when it’s finished. Something this fancy looking is bound to have a Gucci store,” Jimin said, trying to ease the mood a bit. He brushed a bit of dust from his white Gucci shirt to highlight his point.

               “I feel between the two of you, you have enough Gucci in your closets to open your own store,” Jungkook replied, though he had his own collection of name brands to rival theirs.

               Suga gave little response as they reached the elevator. RM had texted him back, saying what they already knew; Get in, get out, and be safe. The leader had added ‘try not to antagonize him too much, hyung’. Suga had a gift of speech, known to the others as his ‘Tongue Technology’. He could talk circles arounds even the most versed debaters, and knew exactly what to say to break someone down. If he had ever decided to pursue a career in music, all of Bangtan was sure he’d be a master at diss tracks. When Jin had captured the spy, Suga barely warmed up before the kid broke from fear. And while he knew he should do as his leader asked, Yoongi knew that if Choi opened his mouth, he’d find it extremely hard not to challenge him. As all four crowded into the elevator, he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his red coat and hit the top floor button. Jimin had started cracking his fingers and stretching out his limbs just in case he needed to be ready. Jungkook seemed to be bouncing on his heels with anticipation. A black face mask was resting under his chin. Suga reached over and pulled it up over the young maknae’s nose. He reached up, after, and fixed his black hat to hide most of his face. Jungkook was the only one of their members who Choi hadn’t seen face to face, making him the safest when he walked around barefaced. The boy had been quite young when he had joined them, and each meeting before the Generals had disappeared, Jungkook’s identity had been hidden. And Suga meant to keep it that way. Jungkook smiled at the action and nodded a ‘thanks’ to his hyung.

               “Just stay behind us until the trade is made. Block the door. And keep your face hidden. We don’t need Choi knowing who you are, got it?”

               Jungkook nodded again, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

               The elevator came to a halt as it reached the seventh floor and the doors slid open. It opened to a finished reception hall with an ornate, marble desk at the end near the large, double doors. Compared to the rest of the building, this was practically finished. The floor had a mirror finish, there was a small chandelier above the desk, and the walls were painted with a dark contrast to the white marbled floors. As they stepped off the elevator, a strange crackle sounded through the piece in Suga’s ear. With each step, it got louder. He could see the small red light from the CC camera that V had placed under the edge of the desk. He knew V had been monitoring them, as well as the Royals, and he tapped the earpiece to signal V something was off. He could hear the young man under the roar of the static typing away at his keyboard, letting out a few curses. The roar got louder and louder the closer they got to the doors.

               “Hyung-…. Sug-…. Can you…” static “Wait they…. With them! Plea-…” static “Get-,” then a piercing noise overtook everything, and Suga ripped the earpiece from his ear. From what little he heard from V, and the tone he was using, whatever he was trying to say wasn’t good. Jimin and Jungkook looked at him, questioningly. It was clear that something wrong was just beyond those doors. But they were already too far to turn around. The Royals must have heard the elevator’s chime and their footsteps as they came up to the door. If they fled now, it would only be worse later. Suga gave a reassuring nod to his dongsaengs and turned towards the door. Jimin took his position beside him, a hand on his hip to give off the air of sass that his gang persona was known for. Jungkook pulled the spy close to him as he positioned himself behind them, eyes glowing with strength and determination.

               And then, Suga kicked the double doors wide open.

               The solid oak doors slammed against the inner walls of the large room with a big bang. Just as the lobby, it was practically finished, save for the large crates of fancy décor, some unfinished lights, some high work platforms, and a good polishing. The floor was the same marble and dark finished wall combination as the lobby, with large Roman pillars that gave the room a grand and expensive feel. There were high windows that lined one side of the room, showcasing a large section of downtown as it was bathed in the warm light of the dawn. Further into the space, two high metal scaffoldings had been constructed, high enough for someone to walk under and for painters to reach the vaulted ceiling in order to finish the commissioned watercolor piece; one was just beyond the double doors while the other was against the opposite wall at the far end of the room near the emergency exit. In the center of the room, surrounded by work lights, appeared to be a diamond shaped dance floor. There was a worktable there.

               And sitting at the table was Choi. He stood out against the sea of black suited goons with his silver fur coat. Choi always had an air of intensity about him, especially when he caught you in a stare down. He was like a cobra; smooth, unpredictable, and ready to strike without warning. When Suga had first met the General, he had overseen the breaking in of the new “recruits”. And the look he gave was enough to warn the kids to beware his wrath. Choi leaned forward on his elbows; his tented, gloved fingers pressed against his lips. His crazed eyes tracked Bangtan as they sauntered into the room, stopping just before the first scaffolding so to keep some distance between the two rivals. The one holding his spy stopped behind the other two. He tsked in disappointment.

               “Nice of you boys to show up,” he greeted in his deep, gravel voice. “I appreciate that you agreed to come to our location. Times have been tough for my troops, and this makes them feel more at ease.”

               “Safe it, Choi,” Suga said, his tone even but methodical, “I don’t need you to put on this little act of yours. You’re not doing this for your guys. At least own up to the fact that you don’t want to follow the Accords.”

               Choi made an amused noise. “Ah, Agust, I have missed that lip of yours.”

               Out of the corner of Jimin’s eyes, he watched as Suga slid into Agust, a second persona Yoongi had developed in the early years before Bangtan. Suga was cold and intimidating, methodical and quiet. Agust was the opposite. He was more aggressive, ready to set the world ablaze; where Suga was the bulletproof vest, Agust was the machine gun and ready to pop off at whoever provoked him. While Suga liked to take his time, his second persona didn’t want to. The shift was subtle, but Jimin had seen the wicked smile appear across his lips as he cocked his head to the side, spilling his platinum blond hair across his eyes. Agust seemed to vibrate with mischievous energy. Jimin hadn’t seen this side of his hyung in an exceptionally long time; only people from Bangtan’s past knew of Agust or he hadn’t been pushed that far to bring out the wildcard. However, he knew Choi had a way of bringing the worst out in them. This would be interesting.

               “Oh, I missed you too, Choi. But don’t worry, my aim is much better now. Can we just do this shit? I have better things to do and you are not one of them.”

               The amused look on Choi’s face slipped. “Such disrespect for your sunbaenim. This is why I requested your leader. He seems to have taken my lessons better than you.”

               “Sorry,” Agust pouted, bringing up his hands in a mocked apology, “but my leader has better things to do than play with a flea infested bitch like you. Wait, that was an insult to dogs.”

               Jungkook was happy he had a mask on to hide his grin; he always enjoyed when Yoongi-hyung fell into Agust; it didn’t happen much these days unless he was extremely angry or overly stressed. So, this was a treat to see Agust tearing into Choi like he knew his hyung had always wanted to do when he was younger.

               Agust continued, his eyes glowing with annoyance. “Seriously, can we move this along? We have your little spy here, all safe and sound. We even fed him, which is more than you could do. Let’s do this exchange before I get more annoyed. It’s past my Maknae’s bedtime and he’s gonna be cranky later.”

               Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh at that point. That drew Choi’s attention. A gleam appeared in Choi’s eyes that, even from that distance, Jimin didn’t like.

               “Now I wasn’t expecting to see you, Sweet One. It’s been a while since we last met. How have you been doing? Had your fix recently?”

               Jimin only glared behind his glasses, his hands clenched in a fist. He took a deep breath and tried to block him out.

               Choi stood up and moved to the front of the table. “What, nothing to say? I missed that voice of yours. So sweet and addictive. You know, sometimes I can still hear your sweet moans and gasps echoing through my memories. Begging and pleading, so needy and desperate. Makes me wish I had taken a chance with you when I had the opportunity. I can see you’re shaking from here. I have what you need, baby. I can help you feel all better. You just need to come over and ask for it. I can take good care of that itch of yours. I’d love to hear how loud your moans can get now.”

               Jimin felt something in him snap. He went to rush him, fist cocked back, ready to shut the bastard up. Suga threw out an arm in front of him before he could take a step. The look he gave Jimin told him to let him handle Choi. RM had asked Suga not to cause too much trouble. And since Agust had already made an appearance, he couldn’t risk Jimin starting something. Even if Choi deserved whatever Jimin had planned to do for bringing up such a dark part of their past. Suga’s reassuring hand gave Jimin a slight push behind him, which the younger man begrudgingly allowed.

               “Seems like you’ve become the responsible one, Agust. Perhaps you’ve gone soft on me, despite the bite. Fine, we should get down to business. But first thing is first; lets make sure that you followed the rules I sent to your leader. No weapons were to be brought with you. Chen, Yao,” he called over his shoulder, “search them.”

               The two suits stepped away from the pack and crossed over to Bangtan. Suga nodded to Jimin, who made his way to stand next to Jungkook in order to keep the spy between them as they were searched. The guards started with Jungkook, then Jimin. They searched Suga last. Both guards ran their hands through clothes, dipping into each pocket. So, of course, they found the small pocketknife Yoongi had slipped into the inner pocket of his red coat. Chen fixed the smaller male with a look, which was received with a nonchalant shrug. Chen was not amused by the gesture and grabbed him by his blond hair, yanking his head back. Agust grabbed hold of Chen’s wrist, twisting it as hard as he could before spitting in the thug’s face. Yao rose his fist to punch him, only to be stopped by Jimin, who had appeared next to him. Agust was intimidating on his own, but the look that Jimin transfixed on them was enough to send a message. Both suits backed away from the two before things got any worse.

               “Agust,” Choi remarked as his guards returned to their space, “how disappointing. Do you see, boys? They have no respect for us. They bring a weapon to a tradeoff. And when scolded for breaking the rules, he acts like a wild animal. They don’t even have the decency to dress professionally. Instead of business attire, we are presented with ripped jeans, flashy and cheap clothes-,”

               “Hey, I wore designer labels to this,” Jimin interrupted.

               “And the one in the back,” Choi continued, “look at how they teach their Maknae. Black cargo pants, hoodie, and wearing a mask and hat. Like he’s going to a club instead of meeting with his betters. Take that off and let me get a better look at you, boy! The least you can do is give me a proper greeting.”

               “Leave my Maknae alone.” Agust took a few steps forward, stepping into the primary focus. “He’s protecting himself from all the bullshit you keep spitting. You don’t need to see him for us to do this. Stop stalling. Where’s your goods? We took good care of your little rat. Now put up or shut up.”

               “You keep demonstrating how low you can be, Agust. Do you think you’ll become as successful as us acting like a classless thug?”

               Agust shrugged, tapping his long finger against his cheek. “I’m not sure about the secret to success. But I think I know the secret to failure and being an idiot. And that is to keep babbling like you. I’m really starting to lose my patients with you. Show me the fucking trade, else I’m leaving with your spy and I’ll do whatever I want to with him.”

               Choi nodded to one of his suits. They pulled out a suitcase and opened it. It was full of cash and ammunition boxes. “Satisfied with that, Agust? It’s way more than his life is worth. But recruitment has been slow recently. However, before we trade, I need an apology.”  

               “For what, your appearance? You need to take that up with your parents,” Agust sneered, causing Jimin and Jungkook to start chuckle.

               Choi slammed the case shut. “I’m over your bad attitude! You have disrespected me enough today. You show me respect, or I will demonstrate how I used to deal with you.” Choi reached around and brandished his ornate cane, smacking it against his hand. “You remember what I used to do to you. Now, apologize to me!”

               “Alright, I’m sorry. Don’t get angry. Your mom will be upset if you lose your only asset- your health,” Agust mocked with a small bow, causing Jimin and Jungkook to laugh. The shocked expression from some of the suits added fuel to the fire.

               Choi’s face took on a red shade. “Enough,” he screamed, his voice shattering against the empty walls, “You may appear brave and bold, but I know what you hide behind that smile, son!”

               Agust took another step forward, unafraid by his little outburst. “If I’m the sun,” he said, pointing out the windows at the rising light, “then you are the moon; as I rise, you go down. Though, I’m sure I’m going to be more disappointed in your tongue technology than your cohorts are with mine.” The roar of laughter from behind him only increased and sent Choi further into a rage. He lunged at Agust and swung his cane.

               Suga’s hands were almost as fast as his tongue; he grabbed hold of the cane before it could strike him. He pulled his face close to the General’s, his eyes cold and serious.

               “I am not that scared little boy you locked in the dark. I will show you that I’m the king here. I’m the boss. And you will end up just like your vile, worthless Maknae.”

               “You’ve gotten strong in my absence,” the taller man remarked as he tried to pull away from Suga’s grip. The younger held tight for a second before giving him a hard shove back towards his team. Choi took a grounding breath and ran a gloved hand through his frosted hair. “Remember Agust, our Maknae acted on his own. Against his boss’s plan. And you got your revenge on him for that. He damned himself, not his hyungs.  Don’t keep using that to fuel your hate.”

               “I have plenty without that.” Suga turned and walked back to his team. “I’m done playing with you. Slide that case over here. We’ll leave your man here as we exit out the door. And we will call this done.”

               Choi shot a dark glare at the blond’s back, before waving a dismissive hand at him, accepting that he wasn’t going to get anything he wanted from the younger man. He gave a nod to the suit holding the case, who slid the case across the floor. Jimin stopped it with his foot before picking it up. He thought it felt lighter than he expected it to, but the want to leave outweighed his curiosity; he was still pissed about what Choi had said to him. He turned his back to the room and made after Yoongi.

               Suddenly, Choi’s soft laughter filled the room. Yoongi remembered that laughter; the General had used it when he knew something they did not. Bangtan’s Second in command looked over his shoulder to see that Choi had a small remote in his hand. With a press, the double doors swung shut automatically. Panic rose within Bangtan. They were trapped! Jimin opened the case in his hands and discovered it was full of fake bills and empty ammunition boxes. Everything was a set up. Choi must have figured that they would have a surveillance too, and made it so he couldn’t communicate with V once they got to the meeting spot. Yoongi hoped that he hadn’t thought about a camera hidden within the room. Since V had been trying to tell him something before their communication was severed, he must have eyes in the room, at least enough to know he needed to get to them fast. Jungkook tightened his hold upon the spy, as if it was their only protection. He shot Suga a look. The elder shifted his eyes between both of his comrades, deep, stormy eyes narrowed in defensive thought. He had thought of this; he had many plans unraveling in his mind. Now, it was all a matter of finding the best one in order to get them out of there. The only unknown factor was Choi. Suga motioned for the two to keep calm as he turned back to the General.

               “Honestly, Agust, did you really believe it would be that simple? That I would let you come in, disrespect me and my troops, and walk out of here like you’re the one in charge? After all that you and your little boy scout brigade has done. I was hoping to send a little message when I scratched up that smiling fool of yours. And yet, your leader couldn’t grasp that and sent you right into my hands. It should had been obvious that you weren’t going to get out without a struggle. There is no Hallowed ground here. You are in my territory with a member of mine that, for what anyone would see, you have kidnapped. Therefore, I can have my fun without any fear from the Accords and their rules.”

               Jimin growled, “Since when do you care about the Accords? You already drew us here under false pretenses.”

               “They’re not entirely false. As I said, you have my recruit,” Choi remarked, his voice in a mocked tone of concern. “He was given such an easy task. And he couldn’t even do that correctly. It would see that some more training is in order.”

               Jungkook felt the kid in his grasp cringe and bury himself deeper into his hold. It was painfully clear that the kid had no choice in this life, much like most of members in the room. And from the stories he had heard from his hyungs, Jungkook was sure this kid had been treated much better in their care than anything in the Royals clutches. It wasn’t up to the Maknae, but he wondered if it was too late to try and take the kid with them.

               “As you know,” Choi continued, “recruitment has been difficult on me. And all the rookies have little to no talent when it comes to the finer arts of the trade. They would benefit from some more one on one training. How do you think we can achieve this?”

               “Well, when Ji just up and leaves like the coward he is and leaves his most useless General in charge, seems like a daunting task for you. Might as well just give up and disband,” Suga said in his methodical tone, causing Choi and the Suits to actively flinch at the mention of their leader’s real name said so offhandedly.

               “Don’t you dare say his name! I will make you regret that. And you’ll be the example for my new recruits. Like I said, my boys don’t do well with their basic training back at the compound. They need some ‘on the job’ training, some action in the field. And what better place then here. Since we are not on Hallowed Ground, we can let them play a little rough. What a splendid opportunity for all of us; they get to have a real experience and you get a few broken bones to send a message to anyone who thinks that they are above the Royals in the food chain. Do me a favor, Bangtan, and don’t give up to fast.”

               With that last smirk, Choi settled himself back against the table and snapped his fingers. Four of the Suits smirked and started to cross the room towards Bangtan. Jimin looked over at Suga. The steely member gave a sharp nod and Jimin pushed some of his honey locks out of his hair with a dark glint in his eyes. He heard Suga tell the youngest to ‘stay put’ as he set off at the advancing Suits. Out of Bangtan, Jimin was known as one of their best fighters. He had studied many different styles and always perfected his craft; from judo and taekwondo to kendo and target shooting, he was regarded amongst most gangs in Central as the most skilled. Jimin was, also, a well-versed dancer, having studied since he was a child. And that control and flexibility of his body only aided him when he decided to show off just why he was well known. As he was still seething with anger from Choi’s words, he decided to take out that frustration on whoever came near him. Jimin took off like a bullet and launched himself up to grab a high bar on the bottom side of the scaffolding. Using his momentum, he swung himself up towards the closest Suit, catching the young man off guard as Jimin wrapped his toned legs around the taller man’s neck. Before the Suit could recover from the surprise, Jimin let go of the bar and arched back into a backbend. Using his lower body strength, he pulled the victim over and down the ground with a loud thud. The shock knocked the air from the Suit and Jimin sent a sharp punch to the throat, to keep him down.

               A yell from another Suit brought Jimin’s eyes up. He got up and tackled the second. The new opponent was sturdier on his feet than the first, easily keeping himself upright and throwing Jimin back. Jimin recovered quickly; he ran to one of the supportive, vertical legs of the scaffolding, grasping hold and using it to spin himself back to the Suit, his heels colliding with the goon’s chest. The Suit stumbled back, chest heaving. Jimin didn’t give him much chance to recover; he was instantly back in his range, throwing punches and sweeping kicks towards the taller man. Being as flexible as he was, Jimin had no issues dodging and sliding under the Suit’s attempt at a comeback. While the bastard was strong and aggressive, he lacked speed and foresight. And Jimin had much of that. They had been backed further along the scaffolding towards it’s beginning, moving rhythmically around the bars and legs. The Suit had managed to grab Jimin by the collar of his studded jacket as he tried to get behind him and threw him face first into the ladder that lead to the top of the scaffolding. He clung to bar for a moment, feeling his lip start to bleed and his head ringing from the sudden impact. He could hear the asshole let out a laugh before charging at him. Just as the Suit was able to connect his jab to the back of Jimin’s head, the smaller blond side stepped him, and let the Suit’s hand make a cracking impact with the metal bars. Jimin got behind him and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could. The other man thrashed against his grip, but his windpipe was being crushed. The Suit slipped onto his knees as his vision started to dot. And Jimin took the opportunity to release the Suit’s throat and use his knee to hit him in the nose. Blood spattered over the dark denim as the Suit screamed in pain. He was silenced when Jimin elbowed him in the back of the head. After the man fell unconscious, Jimin ran his hands through his hair and adjusted the rose-colored glasses that had managed to stay on his face.    

               While Suga wasn’t as graceful as Jimin when it came to fighting, he was able to hold his own with the rest of them. He was scrappier, more calculative in his actions. The remaining two Suits had come at him at the same time. And just like Jimin, he used his height to his advantage, easily dodging under the sweeping arms of the two. The closest Suit had backed Suga up against one of the Roman pillars with his advancing punches, his back flushed against the cold stone. The bastard set an upper cut, which Suga caught and turned back upon its owner. He looked over the goon’s shoulder to see the second had a picked up a crowbar. Oh, fantastic.  The second Suit raised the bar and brought it down in a hard motion, only to hit his own comrade when Suga grabbed the first one and used him as a shield. The goon swung again and Yoongi moved behind the pillar just as it made contact, sending dust flying into the air. When he came back around, he caught hold of the bar with both hands and struggled to push back against the brute’s strength. The first one had recovered from the hit and caught him from behind, locking his arms around the thin gang member’s body. Suga threw his head back and knocked against the Suit but his grip only tightened. He struggled hard as the second guy advanced on him again. Thinking fast, he brought his legs up and kicked the second Suit hard in the chest, sending him to the ground. He thrashed harder against the taller man behind him. He was swung around until Suga saw the white pillar in front of him. He ran up high enough on the pillar and kicked back with all his strength, sending him and the Suit to the marble floor. The arms around his chest loosened enough to slip one out of the hold and use a reverse elbow strike to the goon’s face, hard enough to send him to the very edge of consciousness. Suga scrambled up to his feet as the second Suit barreled at him; he moved just enough to grab ahold of the Suit’s jacket and propel him into the pillar. Suga grabbed hold of the Suit’s shaved head and slammed it as hard as he could into the pillar as many times as it took until the guy slumped down, blood decorating the white stone. Taking a deep breath, he turned back towards the General, smirked before giving the Suit at his feet a good kick to the stomach.

               “That all you got, you son of a bitch?” Agust was out of breath, but still had enough snark in his voice to fill the room. “You couldn’t teach them how to fight their way out of a paper bag. I didn’t even need to bring out my tank over there,” he pointed at Jungkook, who smiled behind his mask and gave a little wave. “What were they supposed to do again? Teach me a lesson? Make me into the example to what happens when your fragile self-worth is questioned. If that’s how you teach your boys to fight, you should change your profession because your ability to make yourself look like an idiot is extraordinary. Your title should be ‘Moron Extraordinaire’ instead of ‘Washed-up Mafia Kingpin’. What you want to throw at me, now? Clearly, we can take you. And when I get out of here, you can guarantee that it’s going to be open season on you. I don’t care if your punk ass leader decides to show his fucking face. I’ll gladly spit in it and let him know how this little ‘bapsae’ took his place.”

               Choi looked down at the Suits, most of whom were still unconscious at Bangtan’s feet. His eyes flicked up to meet Suga’s cold stare. He gave a deep sigh and shrugged the fur coat from his shoulders.

               “Oh Agust, I really do wish one of my men had the foresight to break your jaw. That way I wouldn’t have to hear you anymore. I’m growing tired of this game. I would have hoped you would’ve gone down easier. It would have boosted the moral of the boys instead of their medical bill. Guess we are going to have to do this the old fashion way.”

               Choi reached behind his suit jacket and brandished a chrome revolver. Behind him, the rest of his guys pulled out theirs and pointed them at Bangtan. Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to get bigger as he took in the site before him. Jimin looked concerned as well, but tried to keep it internalized so not to feed their egos; his eyes were darting across the room, looking for places to shield himself should shoots be fired. Suga refused to break eye contact with Choi. The older General gave at laugh at the fronted courage. He cocked the gun and raised it eye level.

               “I have wanted to do this for a long time. When I was away, I had dreams of shooting you right between those cold eyes and wiping that fucking smile off that face. I remember when my brothers and I brought you under our wing; we had high hopes for you if we could break you. But you are just as stubborn as the rest of your ragtag crew. I hope your efforts were worth it in your mind.”

               Choi’s finger moved towards the trigger. And Suga didn’t move, just stared him down. Before Choi could pull it, a loud gun shot rang out in the space! And a bullet hit Choi’s weapon and sent it ricocheting across the marble floor. Choi spun around, looking for the source of the shot. Suga let out a breath he didn’t realize he had held. Jimin rushed to his side, eyes searching for an explanation, as if Yoongi had some how done something. But the second-in-command was just as shocked; his eyes darted about the room, just as the Royals were making a commotion looking for the phantom gun.

               A deep chuckle filled the space, bouncing off the shadowed walls that made it seem like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Stop going on about ‘effort’ and more ‘effort’,” the deep voice commanded. “It’s makes my skin crawl when you say things like that.”

               Drawn by the voice, Suga finally caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket and red pants perched atop the second scaffolding behind the Royals on the opposite wall. V was squatted on top of the platforms, gazing down upon the scene like a gargoyle, one elbow resting against his knee. The other arm was stretched out with his emerald green gun held tight in his grasp. Suga was half impressed that V had hit his intended target; the other half was annoyed he had taken that chance.

               “About time you decided to show your face,” Suga remarked. “What, did you take the scenic route?”

               “Sorry Suga-hyung,” V responded, his voice like black velvet. “They scrambled my signal so I couldn’t contact you. Not even on your phone. And, of course, I had the guys at the cars to deal with. By the way,” he moved his steely eyes to Choi, “your henchmen weren’t a fan of my ‘Vante’ mark on your tacky car. So I left them giftwrapped in the trunk. They didn’t play nice so they’re a bit bruised. Hope that’s ok.”

               V brought his hand up to flash his signature ‘V’ sign and winked at Choi. The General just stared back at him, his gaze disbelieving and furious. Then, he turned to his Suits.

               “Unbelievable,” he said, the hand V had shot the gun out of balling into a shaky fist, “the empire I helped create is being spit upon. And its members are just letting this bunch of misfits walk all over them. This isn’t even all of them! You are supposed to be the most feared, strong, aggressive men of the Mafia families. But you let a pretty boy, a shadow, a whore, and a foul-mouthed baepsae fuck you over time and time again?! I should just shoot you all myself for being so useless! Do you know what’s going to happen if you continue to let the Royal’s name drag in the filth of these fuckers?! I will make sure every single one of you begs for death before I’m finished! Is that what you want? Or are you going to do something about it?!”

               “Whoa, watch that temper, Big Boss,” V said, while smacking on a piece of gum. “Your face is turning a bright shade of red. It’s clashing with your suit. Not a good look for someone of your age.”

               Choi had had enough; he gave a sharp order to Chen who whipped out his revolver from a hidden hoister. He raised it at rapid speed and took aim at V. But while Chen was fast, someone was faster. A loud shot sounded from behind them, and the bullet cut across the captain’s arm. His arm spasmed at the contact and dropped his gun before he could even move to the trigger. Choi whirled around, eyes wild and enraged. Behind Suga and Jimin, both of whom were wearing a smug smile, was the shadow who Choi had dismissed, still holding their hostage in front of him. Jungkook had his arm balanced against the hostage’s shoulder, with his metallic purple handgun on full display. Even with his face hidden behind a mask, all could tell he had a triumphant grin spread across his lips.

               Choi grabbed his captain by the arms, uncaring of the bleeding wound his hands covered. “I told you to search them for weapons! Can you not do one thing I ask?!

               “I did, Boss! I swear,” Chen cried as Choi fingers dug further into his gunshot wound.

               It was Suga’s turn to let out a bemused noise, letting his head loll to one side. His hands came to rest on his hips, and he clicked his tongue in a disappointed fashion. “Oh Choi, you think you’re the smartest person in the room. You think you’re the only one with secrets. See, we’re not as naïve as you like to believe. We have the genius leader after all. We planned for every eventuality you could think of. You’re not as slick as you boost yourself up to be. But we played our part well to make you believe that, didn’t we? Since your boys lack the brains to think of creative methods beyond your orders, I’ll let you in on my little secret. Your boys did search us – they didn’t check your little rat.”

               As quick as he brandished his own piece, Jungkook pulled Jimin’s and Suga’s weapon from under the rat’s oversized sweatshirt and tossed it to them. Jimin’s was a polished gold, while Suga’s was a studded black gun. Both caught their respective piece as if they had rehearsed the moment. Now, they had four barrels pointed at the Royals. Bangtan was outgunned, but they were widely known for their accuracy and body count. That reputation alone was enough to worry the newer Suits. Suga’s cold stare drilled into the General as he held is gun steady.

               “Even after all your shit, Choi, I’ll let you decide how we do this; either let us walk out like nothing happened or we start shooting. You’re already down a few men,” Suga said, motioning to the four men still on the ground from their earlier rumble, either still unconscious or too scared to sit up. “Do you really want to risk losing more? After all this, I can’t guarantee that we won’t hit anything vital like with Chen there. So what’s it gonna be, Jackass?”

               Choi stared at the younger man; his face was blank and unreadable. Suga wondered if he was going to have to repeat himself, or if they could use that silence to back away before anything happened. But then, a crazed look appeared in the General’s eyes and a wicked smirk cracked his face. He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders before taking a step back behind his Suits.

               Then, he snapped his fingers.

               The Royals opened fire with an onslaught of bullets. Bangtan scattered behind whatever cover was closest. Jungkook pulled his hostage behind a large crate and shoved him to the ground, ordering the kid to  ‘stay down and don’t move if you want to live to see adulthood’; he had protected the kid so far, he wasn’t gonna let him get shot for a stupid reason. The poor kid was too scared to do anything but shake and do as he was ordered. Jungkook leaned around the box and fired a few shots to try and cover for V. The gray-haired boy was running across the scaffolding, yelling out ‘one shot- two shots’ as he fired down into the Suits. He vaulted from edge of the platform and scampered behind one of the pillars where Jimin had shielded himself with. The smaller Bangtan member was an impressive shot and was managing to keep the Suits from advancing upon him. Suga was across from them, behind another pillar. From his position, it was difficult to get a clear shot at anyone and he was pinned down behind it. There was a crate a few feet from him that would give him a better vantage point to lay out the Royals. It would be a bonus if he would break down the human shield Choi had surrounded himself with, and stain that blue suit of his. Running away from the pillar into the sea of smoke and ammunition, he rapid-fired at the Suits, hearing at least one of the Suits call that he had been hit. Jimin and V were moving to a new cover, alternating cover shots over each other’s shoulders. Suga knew they needed to get out of there; no matter how good of a shot they were, they would run of bullets before the Royals would. He needed a plan, and fast. He looked behind him at the door Choi had rigged; there was a red light from the mechanical device that had shot and locked the door. The lobby had some decorative things that they could use to bar the door once he could destroy the mechanism. There were the emergency stairs just behind the Royals that they could use if they could keep their distance. Or both to split up the group.

               Behind him, Jungkook had slid a new round of ammunition into his gun that V had slid to him. He had moved from the very back of the room closer to the rest of his team. One of the Suits came running at him from along the side of the room. He easily showed him why they referred to him as Bangtan’s tank; he blocked the Suit’s punch before pistol whipping him, sending two strong jabs at his gut, and a final uppercut that sent the suit falling backward and his gun flying from his hand. Jungkook easily caught it in his empty hand and sent double the shots at the rest of the Royals. He ducked behind another set of boxes and looked to Suga.

               Three more Suits had been hit and were scrambling for cover. Those still shooting had changed weapons and released a new spray of bullets that pinned Bangtan where they were. Choi stood in the middle of it, almost as if he were a statue, with a confident grin still on his lips. He gave an order for the Suits to advance. Suga knew they needed to get out now. He rose up and fired, hitting two Suits and bringing them down. He gave a signal to Jungkook to come to him. The Maknae rushed over, both guns firing and keeping the Royals ducking for cover. Suga looked over his shoulder at the other two and called out. He gave a pointed look to the door and V followed his gaze. They had all worked together long enough to not need much to understand what the other needed to say. V looked back and nodded, knowing Suga meant for them to leave that way on his signal. Jungkook laid down some cover as the blond turned from the battle and fired four shots at the mechanism, destroying it. He turned back to see Choi look stunned at his actions, before ordering his men on.

               Suga grabbed Jungkook and leaned close. “Get to the back stairs. I’ll cover you and be right behind you.” He looked behind and called out to Jimin and V, “Get to the car! If we’re not there, just drive. We’ll meet up at the safe zone!”

               V and Jimin nodded and took off towards the double doors, Jimin kicking them wide open before V turned and slammed them shut behind them. Choi yelled out for a few men to follow them. Three of the men who had lost in their hand-to-hand battle with Bangtan, jumped up from their positions on the floor and ran towards the closed doors. They pushed against it but it was wedged closed. The blond smiled, knowing V had thought of the same things he had about securing the door to help give them time to get away. It held just long enough for the two to escape the lobby. Suga gave Jungkook a shove and the young man took off around the outskirts of the room towards the emergency door in the back of the room. Shots continued to whiz by him as he ducked and weaved between pillars and boxes, having a few close calls as he neared the back end of the room. Suga trailed behind him, pausing at each cover to fire back at the Royals. He managed to bring down two more of the Royals before he ran out of bullets. Jungkook finished the clip in the stolen gun and threw it, hard, at an advancing Suit, nailing him in the side of the head. Chen, still bleeding from his arm but determined to win favor from Choi again, had seen where Jungkook and Suga were heading and stood in front of the door. Jungkook ran at the captain and got locked in a hand-to-hand fight. Chen was one of the few present to offer a challenge to the Maknae, even injured. Chen grabbed one of Jungkook’s fists, as he went in for a cross jab, and twisted the young man’s arm behind him. Jungkook twisted, trying to get his arm free, but Chen held tight. So, he shoved them both backwards until the captain’s back slammed against the wall, throwing his head back to crack against the taller man. Chen let go, and the two were back to exchanging punches, jabs, and dodges.

               Suga was almost to Jungkook when, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Choi moving towards one of his new recruits, one who was a terrible shot. The General snatched his gun from the Suit’s hand and rose it. And it was aimed at Jungkook in a fatal angle. The Maknae was trapped with Chen and couldn’t see what Choi had planned. Suga cursed and ran. Everything happened too fast.

               Jungkook had landed a sharp punch to Chen’s face, causing the captain to stumble back stunned.

               Choi fired the weapon with a clear target.

               Jungkook noticed Choi, as Suga shoved him out of the way.

[lost-in-the-80s]

Winter Memories pt. 2

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,156k

Summary: The pressure of making a new album is finally hitting Axl. To get rid of some stress he decides to take a trip to Norway, however, he did not expect to meet a mysterious woman there.  (smut + fluff)

A/N: I am back with part two!! Let me know if you liked it! Sorry it took me so long! There will be some lines in norwegian again, the translations will be below in italics.

Warnings: Mature content, swearing and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!) ​​

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car​​ @ladieswttda​ @teasid​ @metalheartofgold​ @slashscowboyboots​ @ginny-rose-sixx​  @rumoured-whispers​ @normatural​ add yourself to my tag list :)

Tagging who showed interest for a second part: @sugwinter​​ @vinylvintage​​ @fosterchild-3203​ @littlemisscare-all​​ @ultrabithc​

Part 1

A year passed after that weekend. December arrived and Y/N got ready to spend another weekend at Anna's cottage.

As she packed her bags, she couldn't stop thinking about Axl, the mysterious redhead she had met the year before. He never left her mind, not even for a day.

But finding him would be impossible, so she ignored her heart's pleas that begged her to go to the United States to look for him. Her best chance was to hope he was in the cottage.

During the flight to the mountains, anxiety washed over her body. It was the longest two hours of her life. Her stomach was full of butterflies, as the memories of that night filled her mind.

Taking a taxi she asked the driver three times to go faster, ignoring the fact that the track was slippery with snow.

As soon as she reached the cottage she strode toward the front door, hoping to see him already waiting for her. But he wasn’t there.

After asking Anna she was sure, he wouldn’t come. His name wasn’t on the schedule list, nor had been since that weekend in December.

Han må ha gått videre med livet sitt, og du fortsetter å tenke på ham. She thought to herself.

He must have gone on with his life and you silly keep thinking about him.

Y/N tried to stick to her routine schedule, but spending twenty minutes on a bus to go skiing seemed too tiring. So she spent the entire Friday in her room, reading and whining about her life.

The next morning she woke up late and walked slowly down the steps. She had decided to have breakfast and go back to the airport, catch a flight to Oslo and try to forget all of that. Staying at the cottage brought too many memories to her mind.

“God morgen, Anna” She said calmly.

"Good morning, Anna."

“God morgen Y/N" The lady replied smiling.

"Good morning, Y/N."

Looking at all the breakfast options, she just couldn't feel hungry, so she took a big mug of coffee and sat at a table, sighing when she realized she had sat at the same table he was at the previous year.

After a few minutes, Anna came over, pulling the chair across from her to sit down.

"Hva skjer, Y/N?" The lady asked, touching the younger woman’s hand on top of the table.

"What's going on Y/N?"

“Det er ingenting, Anna, du trenger ikke å bekymre deg.” She gave a weak smile.

"It's nothing, Anna, you don't have to worry."

"Det er ikke gutten?"

"It's that boy, isn't it?"

Y/N looked out the window, avoiding the lady's gaze.

"Han så veldig trist ut dagen han reiste."

"He looked really sad the day he left."

She looked at the lady, seeing compassion in her eyes.

“Ikke bekymre deg, Anna. Jeg klarer meg. ” She smiled, trying to look convincing.

"Don't worry, Anna, I'll be fine."

----

During the next two years, she improved. She focused on work and was able to be distracted from her own thoughts.

She had a few boyfriends during that time, but she couldn't help comparing them to the redhead, and given his color and brilliance, all the others became gray and opaque.

During the nights, his face appeared in her dreams, they were always together and happy and she hated waking up every day and knowing that it would never go beyond that, a dream.

Sometimes she could even go a week without thinking about him, but then something simple reminded her again. Like when she wore the sweater she was wearing that night.

She felt stupid, it was ridiculous to feel that way after so long, especially for someone she only met for a weekend. But every time a rock song played on the radio, she remembered him.

He had said he worked with rock and she always wondered what he meant by that. Was he a band manager? Or was he a member of one of the bands that had already crossed her ears? She would never know and maybe it was for the best.

"Y/N!"

The sound of her name made her look up from the papers she was signing.

It was Hanna. She had moved from the United States to Norway the previous year, working in the office's accounting. The two became close very fast and today they were best friends.

"Hanna..." She looked up smiling.

“Guns n Roses will be playing here in June!! I can't believe it, I thought I would never see them live again! ” She gave little leaps of joy.

"Hmm that’s great, I'm happy for you," Y/N said, smiling at the girl one more time before going back to work. She didn't listen to much music so going to concerts and festivals was not quite her style.

"Come with me?" She crouched down in front of the table.

"Oh I don't know, you know I don't like these crowded places."

"Please. I don't want to go alone. ” She made puppy eyes, staring at Y/N.

"Do not look at me like that!" She pointed her index finger, but Hanna was persistent. "Ah, fine, I'll go with you!" She gave in.

"Yess!!" Hanna celebrated as she stood up doing a victory dance.

Y/N started laughing, making the girl stop.

"What's it?"

She pointed with the pen. Looking back, Hanna saw her boss shaking his head as he looked in her direction.

"Shit!" She scratched the back of her neck, sitting on the chair in front of Y/N’s table. "Do you think he's going to fire me?"

"No ... but he'll think twice before inviting you to the Christmas party this year." She giggled a little.

"Thank God..." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"What day will the concert be?" Y/N asked, going back to signing papers.

“June 10th. I'm going to buy tickets today after work, I'll bring yours tomorrow.”

Hanna looked like a child when she was happy, which always relaxed Y/N's serious mood.

"All right." She prolonged the first word, writing the day on a post-it note.

---

June 10th arrived and Hanna made sure they arrived two hours ahead to get a spot close to the stage.

Wearing denim shorts and a black T-shirt, she accompanied Hanna across the field until she reached the edge of the stage. At least she would be able to see the show up close.

The hot afternoon sun went down and a cool breeze came with the night, but Y/N's irritation didn’t fade away. The band was almost an hour late for the concert and every few minutes someone was bumping into her, making her wish she had stayed at home.

The stage lights came on and a guy with black curly hair came on stage, playing a riff that sounded wonderful to her ears.

Kanskje jeg vil glede meg over denne konserten. She thought to herself

Maybe I’ll enjoy this concert.

Soon the rest of the band members appeared and she became convinced that it would be a good show. That's until the vocalist entered the stage.

He was wearing tight white shorts and a leather jacket, his hair in a red bandana and her heart missed a beat.

Her mouth was slightly open and she put her hand on her chest, to make sure her heart was still beating.

It was him. Axl. The guy from the cottage.

He funnily ran and danced around the stage and his voice sounded so different from what she remembered. But there was no doubt, it was him.

"What's it?" Hanna screamed near her ear when she saw that her friend was not moving.

"It's him!"

"Who?"

"The guy from the cottage!"

She had told Hanna about the event, although she had never mentioned his name.

"Axl Rose??" Hanna's eyes widened, looking from Y/N to Axl and to Y/N again. "Holy shit!"

For the rest of the concert, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off of him anymore. But he hadn't noticed her. They were on the side and he spent more time in the center.

But then the guitar solo started and the same guy from the beginning took over from Axl, who started to leave the stage.

He was smiling, laughing at something and then his eyes shifted to the right and he saw her. The smile disappeared completely from his face and stopped walking.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before he walked over to the edge, making the fans next to Y/N scream out of control.

"Good to see you." He smiled, lowering himself in front of her.

She nodded, smiling, not being able to form words.

Fans around her started trying to push her to get closer to him, the screams making it impossible for her to understand what he had said.

He could tell by her face that she didn't understand, pointing sideways with his thumb and making a sign with his fingers that meant later.

"Backstage later." He spoke again and she could read his lips, finally managing to assimilate the information.

She nodded quickly, giving him a thumbs up.

After the solo, the band played a few more songs before finishing. At every chance he got, Axl came over to her, singing while looking into her eyes, making a huge smile come over her lips.

When the show was over she pulled Hanna by the hand, heading backstage. Where a security guard at the entrance made her stop.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, Axl is waiting for me." She said with a small smile.

"Identification, please."

"She showed him the concert ticket."

"This is the common ticket, I’m sorry Y/N, but you can’t pass."

"Wait! Y/N? ” A man in a red button-down shirt appeared behind the security guard. "Are you Y/N?"

She nodded.

"Let her in, Axl wants to talk to her."

"What about this one?" He pointed to Hanna.

"She’s with me!" Y/N said, taking her friend's hand.

"Let her in too."

The security guard made room, letting the two pass.

"Come, this way." He started walking down several corridors. "I'm Doug Goldstein, by the way." He turned for half a second offering them a small smile.

"We're here," he said after almost a minute of walking.

Opening the door there was a spacious room with several couches, all the members of the band were there, except him. There were other women in the room, some on the lap of the band members.

"They are groupies." Hanna whispered in Y/N's ear.

"What is it?"

"They like rockstars, travel with bands and sleep with them."

Y/N nodded, understanding what she meant. "Lucky for them, they are very cute."

"Aren’t they?" She laughed softly.

"Hey, I saw you two at the gig!" A tall, blond guy said getting closer.

"Oh my God, Duff McKagan noticed me during the gig!" Hanna said, putting her hand on her forehead as if she was going to pass out.

Duff laughed.

"And you are?" He offered his hand for them to shake.

"My goodness!!" She gave a little squeak. "I'm Hanna and this is Y/N." She shook his hand. "I shook Duff McKagan's hand!!" She looked at Y/N. "Do you believe? Me?" Hanna pointed to herself.

Y/N and Duff laughed.

"Is she always that excited?" He asked as he shook Y/N's hand.

"She is a huge fan." She said laughing.

"I am! I am! I even have a T-shirt signed by Slash. I paid

200 bucks on it.” She said the last part with a little remorse for the money spent.

"We can get you another one, I can ask the guys to sign it for you." He smiled a little and Hanna smiled, nodding quickly.

“So you are the famous Y/N! Axl has talked about you for years! ”

Before she could answer she heard his voice saying her name.

Looking to the side, Axl was standing in the hall, wearing only his shorts while a towel was slung over his shoulder.

Det forblir varmt. She thought.

He’s still hot.

He nodded, indicating that she should follow him, so she did.

After a few steps, Axl stopped, opening a door that had his name written on it, and letting her in first. As soon as he closed the door, her lips were glued to his.

Their kiss was hot as summer rain and urgent as if they only had a few seconds to do it. Her hands touched his face, bringing him closer, while his hands infiltrated in her hair, gently pulling the strands at the top of her neck.

A small moan left her lips and he smiled during the kiss, pulling away just long enough to say, "God, how I missed that sound."

He moved his hands to her waist, starting to walk farther into the room, taking her with him.

"Axl." She sighed his name when their lips parted.

He moved away from her a few inches as he stroked her face with his right hand, the left one remaining on her waist, keeping her close.

"Fuck, you haven't changed a thing." He looked at every detail on her face, as if he wanted to memorize it.

"I missed you." She smiled, touching his face.

Axl closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her touch.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea." He opened his eyes, kissing her again.

The kiss grew hotter and when she realized Axl's hands were on the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms, breaking and kissing and allowing him to remove the garment.

He let out a small growl in the kiss when she pulled his hair gently and he lowered his hands to her ass, squeezing her flesh before he propelled her upward.

Y/N intertwined her legs around Axl's waist and he started to move towards a sofa in the living room. He laid her down gently, removing his lips from hers just so that he could make a trail down her neck, slowly going into the valley between her breasts.

She moved her hands to her back, unclasping her bra and allowing Axl to enjoy her nipples. He took one of them to his mouth, sucking lightly by biting the skin while his fingers played with the other, causing a small moan to come out of her lips.

Y/N moved her hand towards Axl's shorts, feeling his already rigid erection over the fabric, making him moan and look her in the eyes. His gaze was filled with lust with a touch of malice, his pupils dilated.

Continuing his kisses to the south, Axl stopped at the waistband of her shorts, unbuttoning the garment and removing it from her body. His fingers caressed her core over her panties, making her gasp.

He slowly removed the last piece of clothing from her body, applying soft kisses to the extension of her leg, until the material was finally free and she was completely exposed to his gaze.

He stood up, removing his white shorts, tossing them on the floor before removing his sneakers in a hurry. He wore no underwear and the sight of his free and throbbing member made Y/N bite her lower lip while she sat down.

Axl climbed onto the couch, kissing her again. She moved her hands to his shoulders, pushing him to sit on the sofa, his back against the armrest when she climbed on his lap, making him smile mischievously.

Y/N touched his member, running its length a few times before collecting some of her juices with its tip and positioning it at her entrance.

Slowly she started to go down, keeping her gaze fixed on Axl's, she felt him fill her completely, letting a small moan leave her lips with the sensitivity.

She started with her movements, going up and down. Axl's hands found her hips, squeezing them firmly and guiding her movements until she reached a steady rhythm.

"Axl" She moaned his name, throwing her head back and allowing the sensation of pleasure to take over her mind.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He moved his lips to her now exposed neck, making her moan even more.

After a few minutes, Axl started to move his hips, meeting her movements, hitting her G-spot with strength and precision, making a loud moan leave her lips.

"Yes, moan for me, baby." He moved his thumb to her lips, allowing her to suck it, and he grunted at the sight.

"Axl ... I’m going to ..." Her breathing was rapid when she uttered the words between moans.

"I know baby. Cum to me. ” He said, moving his right hand to her clit, applying precise movements that made her moan even louder, if that was possible.

A cry with his name filled the room when she reached her peak, rolling her eyes and feeling her legs tremble with the wave of pleasure that spread through her body.

Axl's hands cupped her face, bringing her close to him as they continued to move. He enveloped her in a deep kiss and her hands tugged at his hair, knowing it was his weak spot.

"Oh, fuck." He groaned after a few minutes, parting their lips, but staying close enough that their noses would bump up every few seconds. "I love you." He said looking into her eyes, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

"I love you." She whimpered due to sensitivity, she could feel her walls tightening for another orgasm and she scraped his back with greed when a long moan left her lips and she closed her eyes.

“Fuck… Y/N.” It was all that Axl could say before they could both be hit by another orgasm, his jets filling her while her walls tightened his member, their juices mixing inside of her.

Sweaty and out of breath, all that could be heard in the room were their heavy breaths.

She leaned her forehead against his, holding his face with both hands as he hugged her.

"You don't know how much time I spent looking for you." He whispered.

She opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

"I hired a guy, but he never found you." 

She removed some locks of his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "I went back to the cottage the following year, but you weren't there."

"Shit, I was on tour." He giggled a little.

"When I was told we were going to play here, I couldn't help but hope that you would come."

"Well, I'm here now." She smiled sweetly, kissing his lips.

“Come to America with me? I don't want to be away from you anymore. ”

She stopped for a few seconds, thinking about his proposal.

"Please." He pleaded in a whisper.

Slowly she started to nod. “Yes, I will go with you! I don't want to be away from you anymore either. ”

The two smiled at each other before engaging in another passionate kiss, glad for finally being together again.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

the boy next door bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

i know he has like an actual new york apartment in the show but i thought this idea was cute and kinda ran with it. in this they live in the same building rather than like his town house in the show.

also this might be the only one shot out for a little bit but ill be back soon i hope!

Song: Superman by loaded (duff mckagan)

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

Another day another dollar, right? One more day of work before a long holiday weekend away from the office and away from the stresses of life. It was almost worth the salary in more ways than one. Yes I was comfortable now that I'd been promoted but it also allowed me to move into a new apartment over the last two months. Apartment 25, right next door to a very handsome neighbor who id only ever had the pleasure of seeing once.

It was no more than a passing in the hall when I was still moving in. He had nodded his head followed by a soft hello as I was coming up the stairs. My door was propped open and half my furniture was sitting around the kitchen inside the door. I had noticed him glance in, a small smile coming to his face as he dug his gloved hand into his jeans for his house key. The only reason I knew he existed outside of that was the fact that he left his TV on at night. But I knew how that was. Some type of noise to make a lonely apartment seem less empty.

I wanted so badly to go introduce myself, to say hello or invite him over for dinner but it never felt right. I was the new neighbor after all and no one else had made an attempt at introducing themselves either. Besides, I wasn't even completely moved in yet. Two months and I still had boxes strewn about, some filled with books, some filled with kitchen utensils I hadn't needed quite yet. In all actuality it was a mess still but I was working on it. Something I would be fixing during this long holiday weekend.

This is what was on my mind as I buzzed into the main door. Then his smile flashing behind my eyes as I walked up the flight of stairs to stand in front of my apartment. Then the thought faded for a moment. It was one sigh after another as I dug into my bag for my key, a grumble under my breath as they shifted under my wallet. It was already a long day, and now this?

"For fucks sake."

I complained, finally grabbing them in my hand but stabbing myself in the finger rather than retrieving them. I pulled my hand out quickly, hissing at the feeling as I shook my hand out.

"Damnit!"

I furrowed my brow before putting my mouth to my finger. Then I heard his door click. I breathed deeply before shaking my head and reaching back in my bag for my keys. When he stepped out of his door I offered a disingenuous smile.

"Hey 25."

He said and I stood upright, confusion across my features as I stared at the number plate on my door.

"Hey, 23...?"

I said back, looking over my shoulder as he made his way quickly down the stairs. I watched as he opened the main door at the bottom, looking at him like a deer in headlights as he smiled and nodded before disappearing down the street. I just stood there for a moment, perplexed, arm still in my bag but no longer focused on the task at hand. What a strange interaction. Then the door across the hall made a noise, shaking me from my thoughts. I got to work getting my keys out properly this time, without hurting myself, and unlocking my door before they made it outside. Time to get to work.

°°°°°°°°°

When I woke up this morning I knew I should've immediately gone back to bed. Who knew Saturdays could actually be shit. It started with me ripping the collar of one of my favorite shirts while trying to get dressed. Then it was me spraying myself in the face with water trying to do the dishes. And amongst every other little thing like dropping books and trinkets and tripping over boxes on the floor, the air conditioner went out. I had promptly called the landlord but he said he couldn't get anyone to replace it until Tuesday given the holiday weekend. Just my luck.

I had almost thought about giving up but I wasn't that kind of person. Instead I dug out a box fan, propped the front door open and kept it on high for the majority of the afternoon. Yeah I was sweaty trying to unpack and fix my living room but it was worth it. I was gonna make this day better if it killed me. Now I was stood on a bar stool, couch pushed into the middle of the room, trying to hang a few pictures. It was a struggle getting the one on the far part of the wall but I was making it work. One grunt and complain at a time.

"Need a hand with that 25?"

I heard from the door, scaring me and making the stool wobble. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I steadied myself against the wall. I closed my eyes and sighed out in relief.

"No thanks 23 I got this."

I called back, recognizing his voice before reaching back over and trying to hang it again. I could hear soft footsteps behind me for a moment but it didn't really matter, the door was open, if he wanted to come in he was more than welcome. Maybe he could give me a hand. And maybe I was overestimating myself. The next second I was losing my footing and on my way to the floor. I screamed as the stool came out from under me, the picture smashing to the floor. I expected to hit the floor after it but instead I had landed in someone's arms, looking up to a smirking neighbor, wide eyes and scared

"Sure you don't need some help there 25?"

He asked again, a little cocky. I just stared at him. My heart was knocking at my rib cage trying to escape and I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I could've just hurt myself severely or even died. But I didn't. Because 25 saved me.

"I guess not anymore."

I blurted out in a panic, realizing that my interior design dreams had just been crunched into pieces against the hardwood. He let out a soft laugh before walking out from behind the couch and placing me flat on my feet.

"You okay?"

He asked and I nodded, frowning at my less than handy work on the ground. The stool was laid on top of the frame, glass everywhere, and the picture itself torn in two.

"Body yes, ambitions no."

I sent him a defeated look and we both laughed. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Thanks for saving me 23. Without you I definitely would have had to take a trip to the ER."

I said through a nervous laugh. He looked taken aback for a second before placing his hand gently at my back.

"You look like you've had one hell of a day."

He noted and I looked down at myself before rolling my eyes.

"So it's obvious?"

I asked and he smiled, nodding slowly.

"Just a little bit."

My gaze followed his hand as he tucked some of the hair that had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear.

"Well I guess for an official first impression I chose to big or go home."

I joked

"You always this charismatic?"

He quipped back and I sent him a look.

"You mean in terms of needing assistance?"

He shook his head in amusement.

"If that's how you wanna take it, sure."

I rolled my eyes playfully.

"No actually. Normally I am very poised and carefully thought out. Today is just not my day."

He looked at me for a moment like he was trying to figure me out or come up with something to say.

"Well I think I'd like to meet poised and carefully thought out."

He said and I sighed out a laugh.

"Is that an offer for a date 23?"

He smiled widely at me.

"James."

"Bucky!"

"Yes!"

He said quickly, getting progressively louder. My eyes went wide as he closed his, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Jesus I'm not usually this awkward."

I smiled at him, placing my hand at his shoulder, him looking at me in a lost puppy kind of way. Then I noticed the chain tucked under his shirt, looking down the the two outlines pressed against his chest. I drew my brows as I tugged it out, the warm metal laying in my hand as I ran my thumb over the dog tags. He just watched me intently.

"Sargent James Buchanan Barnes."

I nodded, looking up to him innocently. He had a small smile tugging at the corner of his lip but you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it.

"Well 23, I'd love to go on a date with you."

In a second his smile got bigger, tucking his tags back in his shirt after I let go of them.

"Guess we both made pretty good first impressions."

He said and I nodded, rubbing my hands together as we started walking towards the door.

"Oh, 25, I didn't catch your name."

He mentioned, stepping over the box fan and back into the hall. I smirked at him.

"You buy me a drink, 23, and it's yours."

He let out a short laugh, nodding as he turned his body towards his own apartment.

"Deal."

[mithranqueersmusings]

I Think I'll Love You Too II

Chapter: 2/?

Rating: U

Summary: George and Ringo have been going out officially for a couple of months. Ringo anticipated that dating a stripper would be complicated, but he didn't understand exactly how complicated it would be.

Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The following clean-up from their nocturnal experiment was far from easy, the wax seemed to crumble into tiny pieces and was determined to cover each inch of the carpet. George was insistent on doing most of the work, a struggle of manners ensued in which Ringo was adamant that he should help but eventually gave in and took up George's offer to relax in the bath.

Soaking in the warm water, Ringo's mind began to wander to their first official date. It seemed like such a long time ago now, although it had only been a couple of months at the most. Ringo could vividly picture arriving at George's house for the first time and picking him up for dinner, bruises still dotted across George's pale skin from the somewhat embarrassing but retrospectively rather comical fall at the club. Ringo had struggled to figure out the best place to take George, unfortunately the only advice available was John's.

"He's a vegetarian." Ringo emphasised for the fourth time, John had once again offered up a meat-only establishment.

"Oh, well you could've told me sooner." John scoffed, sometimes Ringo couldn't tell whether he was joking or truly that oblivious.

"What about sushi? That can be veggie, right?" Ringo was fiddling with a bouquet of flowers that had been left on John's kitchen counter, a small card had the name 'Paul' written on it, punctuated with a kiss.

"Sure." John offered "You could always, and hear me out, ask where he wants to go."

Ringo rolled his eyes "Great advice John, thanks. What if he doesn't know either?"

"Then you're both helpless and you belong together."

In the end Ringo had settled on sushi, which only calmed his panic somewhat because he still had to find which sushi place was best. He'd forgotten all about how stressful dating could be, and it'd been a long time since he'd been a proper date. Eventually he settled on a fairly affordable place that wasn't too far from his house, he felt rather silly calling up to make a reservation an hour in advance but he didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by not having a table booked.

This struggle with the restaurant left Ringo only an hour to get himself looking presentable for the date, his closet was emptied onto the floor and bed as he rummaged around for something suitable. He felt like making more of an effort than usual, this was one date he didn't want to screw up, especially knowing how fashionable George was likely to look. In the end he settled on a paisley blazer, it had been a gift from John years ago and had hardly been worn, and a black shirt underneath which he experimented with the buttons of.

He left himself just enough time to brush his teeth, sort out his hair and tidy the room as quickly as he possibly could. Hurrying over to George's in the car, he'd almost forgotten to be nervous about the date itself. Almost forgotten, because as soon as he knocked on George's door Ringo felt a wave of dread washing over him. He hadn't even thought of any conversation starters, or what he was going to order at the restaurant. As he waited for an answer, the dread only festered further. Yet once the door finally opened, revealing George draped in a decorative kimono, all fear subsided.

"Hi." Ringo spoke, suddenly sheepish.

"Hey." George replied with a grin, stepping out onto the street and locking the door behind him.

The two of them looked at one another for a few moments, eyes tracing from head to feet with no words being said. George was wearing makeup: his eyes darkened with liner and mascara, his gaunt cheekbones sparkling with highlight and his lips painted a tempting shade of red. Ringo could see that he'd tried to use foundation to cover over the bruises on his face but it wasn't entirely successful, not that it mattered.

"You look great." Ringo managed to get out without stumbling over his words as they walked over to his car.

"Thanks, so do you." George responded but Ringo supposed he was only trying to be polite.

Passing a shop window, Ringo stole a glance at the reflection and found himself presently surprised at how good the two of them looked together. Ringo was even beginning to believe George's compliment, a surge of confidence arising merely from being stood next to George. He'd anticipated that George would only make him look worse, but there was something complimentary in how the two of them were dressed. It was a small boost that Ringo needed to quash his nerves, he was determined to not ruin the night just because he was feeling anxious.

"So... Where are we headed?" George asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Sushi." Ringo replied more curtly than intended "Is that alright?"

"I love sushi." George answered cheerily.

"What a relief." Ringo chuckled "I'm not gonna lie I was struggling to find a place to eat, with you being a vegetarian and all."

George paused for a moment "You remembered that?"

"Of course I did." Ringo panicked for a moment, afraid he'd said the wrong thing and given too much away but the smile that spread across George's painted lips calmed him back down.

It didn't take them long to arrive at the restaurant, it was rather busy but not so much that it would become uncomfortable. Ringo still couldn't believe his luck, that he'd actually been able to get a date with George. Looking back on how their relationship started, it was strange to consider that they'd end up here.

"Is your face alright?" Ringo asked when they'd been seated, it was hard to not notice the swelling on George's lip.

"Oh yeah, it's fine." George provided evidence with a genuine smile "I've had way worse, don't worry."

"You fall over a lot then?" Ringo joked, looking down at the menu and feeling a little intimidated by the amount of choice.

"Only when I know you're there to catch me." George winked "No, I've had my fair share of scraps here and there. That's just life, isn't it?"

Ringo chuckled "Not in my line of work, no."

"Don't be so modest, I haven't forgotten when you beat up that creep in the club." George was studying his menu with far less fear than Ringo "Any idea what you're gonna order?"

"Haven't the faintest." Ringo read the same words over and over again as though it'd help him understand "What about you?"

"Hmm, I think so." George answered with a confidence Ringo envied "Want some help?"

"Please." Ringo smiled sheepishly, laying down his menu and looking to George for assistance.

The date was hardly going as Ringo had anticipated, but while George went through dishes on the menu with a clear expertise Ringo couldn't stop himself from smiling. The intimidating Spike was describing in detail the difference between maki and temaki with such delicacy, it was such a strange moment of realisation for Ringo that made him truly understand how far they'd come. Ringo realised too late that he hadn't been listening to what George had been saying but it didn't matter in the end because George ordered for the both of them.

"So..." George began, drink in hand.

"So." Ringo repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"How long have you been waiting to take me out?" George asked with a knowing smile.

Ringo half expected this line of questioning to begin, he only wished he'd prepared some answers "Does it make a difference?"

"I'm just curious." George leaned in a little closer, a devilish look in his eyes.

Ringo sighed "Now I'm debating whether to lie so you don't think I'm a loser."

"I wouldn't bother with that, I already know you're a loser Ringo." George spoke deadpan, staring without expression then burst into laughter "I'm sorry, I had to."

"And that's meant to encourage me to be honest?" Ringo laughed nervously.

"Come on, tell me." George sounded almost whiny, a tone Ringo had heard before but never in regular conversation.

"Fine, fine." Ringo conceded after drinking his beer "In all honesty it was probably the first time I saw you... Not that I thought you'd ever say yes, of course."

The answer seemed to satisfy whatever itch George had "Really? I'm that good looking am I?"

"Not to sound cliché, but have you seen you? I don't think I've seen anyone more attractive." Ringo spoke somewhat seriously.

George blushed just slightly, having to look away from Ringo's intense gaze "You're sweet. But why were you even in the strip club in the first place? You didn't seem too at home, at least from what I remember."

Ringo felt rather complimented that George even remembered how he'd been acting all that time ago, he'd always supposed he hadn't left much of an impression at all and whatever he did was surely negative.

"John dragged me there. He, uh-" Ringo stopped himself before saying too much "Thought it'd cheer me up."

George squinted his eyes in suspicion "What aren't you telling me?"

Ringo paused, debating the best verbal exit strategy but the good beer and even better food was slowing his thought processes "Uh... Nothing?"

"Oh come on." George kicked Ringo lightly under the table "You think I'm gonna judge you?"

"Well, yes... But fine, I'll tell you." Ringo chuckled, pausing for an anticipatory breath "I'd been going through a bit of a... dry spell, so to speak."

A grin spread across George's face "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Ringo repeated, hiding his shame behind his beer.

"I find it hard to believe that you were having a 'dry spell'." George rested his hand on Ringo's own, his finger tracing around the metal of the rings.

"Well, I'd, er- I'd still be having one if you hadn't come along." Ringo stammered "Shit, that sounds really pathetic, doesn't it?"

"Just a tad." George smiled reassuringly "I'm just glad I could be of service."

"For a while you were making it worse, actually." Ringo had finished his beer and was itching for another "With all my pent up frustration and then I see you undressing on that stage, I nearly lost my mind."

George chuckled, looking rather proud of himself "I can only apologise for being so tempting." He emphasised the word by running his tongue over his top lip onto his sharp canine tooth.

"No need to apologise, it's your job after all." Ringo tried to remain composed "And in the end it all worked out so... No harm done."

"My aching body disagrees." George pouted his still somewhat swollen lip.

"Well... That was your own fault really." Ringo joked, finally catching the waiter's eye so that he could order another beer.

"You're right, you're right." George's hand was still pressed against Ringo's "Hopefully from here on out all the pain will be consensual."

Ringo blushed "Hopefully."

Later that night it was clear that there was no longer any need to be hopeful.

[animepreferences]

P R E F E R E N C E # 5 - T H A T T I M E O F T H E M O N T H

-

A K U T U G A W A

It was very rare that your usual calm and cool composure was compromised, but every once in awhile life got to you and made you lose your bearings. This usually happened when you were under an immense amount of stress or you were on your period. In this particular moment, it was currently your period. “Y’know what? No, I’m over this. There is nothing to eat in this god forsaken house and I KNOW I just went grocery shopping.” Slamming the cabinet doors close, you would let out an exasperated exhale as you threw yourself down at your shabby kitchen table. Little did you know that Akutagawa had currently just arrived home with takeout and groceries. He wasn’t dumb, afterall. He knew what time of month it was by the way you had bit his head off earlier in the day about something rather trivial. That and he had noticed that you had stripped the sheets on the bed first thing in the morning. “Rough day?” He would chuckle, walking right past you as he placed the groceries on the counter. “You have no idea. I’m so slumped. And annoyed.” You would grumble, ignoring how your boyfriend continued to chuckle. Why was he laughing at you? “I’m sure you are. That’s why I picked up a couple of things at the store for you. You can take a peek if you want,” Aku would say nonchalantly as he tossed a bag onto the table, never once turning around to watch you. Letting out a small ‘hmph’, curiosity would win you over in the end and you would end up just having to look in the bag. It was then you would gasp. A bouquet of flowers, a substantial amount of chocolate, and some painkillers would sit before you. You hadn’t even told him and yet he somehow knew. He always knew, really. That was one of the things you loved most about him: he picked up on the little things that meant a lot to you. “Aku...” You would start, standing from your seat to approach him in the kitchen. “How-I mean-thank you-I,” You would stutter over your words, struggling to find the right ones to say. “I hope you feel better soon. Maybe later I can draw you a bath?” Aku would murmur, halting his actions to pull you into his arms and press a kiss to the crown of your head. “Perhaps, you could just cuddle me instead.” You would suggest, melting into his touch as he pulled you in even closer and tighter, mostly so you wouldn’t have to see the blush that was creeping ever so slightly to his cheeks. “Whatever you want my precious Y/N.”

-

C H U U Y A

“Stop it.” You would growl, crossing your arms across your chest as you stared straight forward, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “Pardon?” Chuuya would ask rather innocently, cocking his head to the side as he stared at you with complete and total bewilderment. “Stop.” You would say again, finally snapping your head up to stare at him, eyes cold. “You-Just-Could-You-Please—Ugh-Just—“ You would stumble over your words as you stared at him miserably. He clearly had got caught in a rainstorm on his way home from work and due to this he was drenched from head to toe, water dripping in a messy puddle around him. It wasn’t the mess you were worried about, however. He could drip mud and water throughout the entire house for all you cared. It was the way he looked. His wet hair framing his face perfectly, his clothes clinging to his open chest in the most seductive way. Your damn period always made your...er...hormones a little wacky meaning you got a little bit too turned on by Chuuya when you were menstruating. Not that you weren’t typically turned on by your boyfriend, but when you were on your period your emotions were heightened tremendously. “Y/N, are you?” Chuuya would giggle darkly knowing exactly what your black eyes and nervous stutters meant. “You have no idea.” You would groan, throwing your head back as you closed your eyes. “Mmm, just say the word and I’m all yours, baby.” Peeling the wet shirt from his body, you would nearly choke out a sob throwing your head in your hands, the image before you too beautiful. “Y/N?” Chuuya would say, urgency coloring his tone as he tried to pry your hands from your face, but to no avail. “I’m on my period. I can’t.” You would finally sigh, peeking at him through your fingers, cheeks flushed. “Oh, yeah! I forgot you get super horny when you’re on your period,” Chuuya laughed more to himself than anything as he walked over to you, draping the blanket that hung over the back of the couch over your shoulders, ruffling your fringe playfully. You could hear his steps fading into the background and finally felt it was safe to raise your head knowing that he was no longer around. When he returned, he held a heating pad in his hand, with a steaming mug of hot tea in the other, clothes completely dry and comfy. “For you.” He would say, handing you both things as he sat next to you on the couch, careful to sit far away. “You’re more than welcome to come cuddle with me, but I don’t want to make you even more miserable. I know you can’t resist me during these times,” wiggling his eyebrows, he would shriek when a pillow would be sent flying to his face. “Arrogant prick.”

-

D A Z A I

“Is it too late to take you up on that double suicide?” You would moan, arms clutching your abdomen as you spoke to your loving boyfriend. You two were currently in bed with no intentions on leaving. Why? It was simple. It was that special time of the month for you which meant cramps. Not to downplay anyone else’s cramps, but your cramps were particularly bad. No, not bad, awful. No, not awful, atrocious. Absolutely, positively atrocious. “C’mere.” Ignoring your request Dazai would pull you against his chest, resulting in you to hum contently as his warm arms would encompass you in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry you’re feeling poorly.” he would whisper in your ear, hands sliding down your body till they got to your lower abdomen. “Is this where they are hurting you, my love?” He would inquire softly, pressing a short kiss to the space behind your ear sending shivers down your spine in the process. Nodding weakly in response, Dazai would take this as consent to begin to massage the skin softly. At first you would wince, but then it would begin to bring you relief, his skilled fingers working through the low aches that brewed inside you like a tsunami. “That feels nice,” you would sigh, relief trickling over you at last as your head lolled against his chest. “That’s it, Y/N. Close your eyes and let me take care of you.” Dazai would coo, loving how your body relaxed against his touch, knowing that he was bringing you a relief to this pain that you had never quite found before. You could feel your eyes growing heavy, your body growing warm. A deep slumber was emerging from the shadows but the moment felt too perfect, too relaxing for you to fall asleep even though if it was what you needed most right now. “Quit fighting it, you need to sleep.” Dazai would say knowingly as if he could read your mind. “I’ll be here when you wake again, I promise my sweet rose.” With those words, you would snuggle even deeper into his chest honing in on the magic his fingers were working allowing you to get some rest for the first time in days. You had asked yourself a million times the question that surfaced in your head before falling asleep: how had you grown so lucky to have him in your life? What had you deserved to have the heart of Osamu Dazai? You may never know but you didn’t care. You were just happy to have him.

[recurring-polynya]

I know I missed Renji's birthday but if you ever have time, I would absolutely love to see anything about Renji and Orihime's friendship. I always headcanon him as her no.1 weird bakery experiment supporter, but really anything would be great! They just seem like they would be each other's go-to supports and I would love to see your take on them!

Anon, I have no excuse for why this took so long! RenHime BroTP is one of my very favorite things, but I managed to draw a huge blank on this and then I went through two concepts that didn’t work before I managed to hit on one that did. (Also, I did write two other Renji & Orihime stories in the Time of Many Drabbles, one where they make a cake and one where they act out Orihime’s fanfic)

Anyway, I love the Advance Team Arc, please enjoy this Advance Team Arc story about Renji and Orihime trying to cheer Rukia up by going thrifting, ft. the all-time greatest Renji clothing item.

👖   🧥   💀

Orihime was headed outside for lunch, thinking longingly about her curry tuna fish sandwich, when a low, gravelly voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Oi, Inoue. You gotta moment?”

Abarai was leaning up against the wall of the school, his eyes scanning the school yard like he was waiting for a brawl to break out. Abarai reminded Orihime a lot of a guy in a prison movie. Not the guy that masterminded the prison break, but the guy who had the whole prison figured out and knew how to get illicit goods and would help the main guy escape even though they were sort of frenemies. Orihime found him a little bit scary, but in a cool way. They probably didn’t have motorcycles in Soul Society, but if they did, Orihime would bet money that Abarai would ride one.

“Sure!” she announced eagerly, and followed in his shadow as he silently rounded the corner of the building. He moved very quietly for such a big person, unlike Ichigo and Chad, who crashed and thumped wherever they went, especially when they went somewhere together.

“I gotta problem and I’m hopin’ you’ll be able to help me out a little.” Abarai shifted his shoulders a little, obviously uncomfortable in his school uniform.

Orihime knew all about the stresses of the undercover lifestyle. Clearly, he needed someone for an inside job, someone who knew all the subtleties of living a normal human existence. Fortunately for him, Orihime had been a normal human almost her entire life. “How can I be of assistance, Lieutenant Abarai?” she barked.

Abarai blinked at her. “Er. It’s not really mission-related. I need, um, some advice, I guess.”

Orihime set her jaw and tightened her fists. “I am short on life experience, but I have read many magazines. Ask me anything.”

Abarai waved his hands. “No! No! Look, you’re friends with Rukia, right?”

“Yes!” Orihime agreed. That was an easy one.

Abarai nodded quickly, happy to have found some firm footing at last. “The thing is, she’s been taking Ichigo’s vanishing act kinda hard.”

Orihime gave a tiny nod, her fingernails digging into her palms. The truth was, there was a dull, Ichigo-sized ache in her own heart, as well. She couldn’t stop wondering where he was and what he was up to and if he was getting good hearty lunches. She imagined it must be a thousand times worse for Rukia who had come all the way from Soul Society to just to see him.

“She gets real crabby when she’s worried,” Abarai continued on, continuing to scan the grounds, presumably for lurking Rukias. “She’s been getting on me for not having enough spare clothes for my gigai. I wouldn’t usually let her boss me around like this, but I thought it would make her feel better so I told her we could go, ah, shopping.”

“Oh, that’s so nice!” cried Orihime.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a prince. But here’s the thing: Even though Captain Hitsugaya outranks me, I am technically the mission manager, which means I’m in charge of the budget, and I’d really, really like to come out in the black. Matsumoto already conned me out of a significant portion of the petty cash. I don’t think Rukia has a real good handle on human money and I sure as hell don’t. I told Rukia that we should ask one of her friends to come along and she said she’d ask you, and I just was hoping you could help me keep things, y’know, frugal, without making a big deal about it.”

Abarai looked a little sheepish even asking. Orihime remembered the size of Rukia’s house back in Soul Society, the beautiful kimono she had worn once she was no longer a criminal. Orihime knew all about having friends who had more money than you. Her resolve hardened and slammed her fist into her open palm. “A strict budget is no reason not to look your best!” she announced. “You have come to the right person, Lieutenant Abarai! I, Inoue Orihime, Thrifting Champion of Karakura, will help you out!”

Abarai’s face washed over with relief, followed very quickly by confusion. “The what champion?” he echoed.

👖   🧥   💀

“You are a saint, Orihime!” Rukia declared as they marched down the street, arm in arm, Renji trailing grumpily a few paces behind, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “A gem! I offered to borrow something from Ichigo’s father for him, but this ingrate was having none of it.”

There was some low-pitched muttering from behind them.

Orihime was trying to picture Renji in the pink, ruffled tuxedo shirt Dr. Kurosaki had worn under his lab coat the last time he set Tatsuki’s sprained ankle. “I don’t think Dr. Kurosaki’s style would be quite right for him,” she suggested diplomatically. “I… guess… he’s supposed to be a teenager?”

Rukia heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re correct, as usual.” She craned her head back over her shoulder for a moment. “You owe Orihime an ice cream for this, Lieutenant Hopeless!” She swung her head forward again with a huff. Renji shot Orihime a wink.

Orihime couldn’t quite figure out Rukia and Renji’s exact relationship. Rukia has described Renji as “her friend.” On one hand, she hadn’t said about the shinigami from Ten or Eleven. On the other, she called Renji a lot of rude names and harangued him a lot. Renji had seemed pretty concerned about Rukia when he had pulled Orihime aside that afternoon, but now he was all slouches and scrunchy eyebrows. He reminded Orihime of Ichigo.

Oh! Maybe there was something to that! Maybe Renji was being a grouch on purpose so that Rukia could yell at him and feel like she was yelling at Ichigo. Wow! That was some master-level friendship. Orihime wondered if she should be taking notes.

“Ah, here we are!” she exclaimed, pointing at a little, tucked away shop front.

“What sort of shop is this?” Rukia frowned, examining the cluttered store window.

“It’s a thrift store,” Orihime explained. “People sell old, but well-made clothes to the shop, and they resell them for much cheaper than new clothes. Sometimes you can find really neat vintage, designer things that a rich person only wore a few times and decided they didn’t want. Uryuu likes to look for really ugly things made from nice fabrics and then re-tailor them. I have to modify a lot of my clothes, too, because of-- well, you know.” She gestured vaguely at her chest.

“What a brilliant idea!” Rukia proclaimed. “That’s so practical! Renji, isn’t Orihime a genius?”

“I didn’t come up with the idea,” Orihime mumbled self-consciously.

“Maybe you should open a shop to sell off your brother’s spare kimono,” Renji suggested airily. He was definitely baiting Rukia now, Orihime could see it when she watched for it.

“I should!” Rukia declared, closing her eyes haughtily. “People would probably pay twice just because he wore them!”

Renji just snorted.

👖   🧥   💀

“How about these?” Rukia asked, holding up a pair of jeans. “They look like the kind Ichigo wears.”

Orihime pulled her head out of the rack of pants she was sorting through, and Renji’s head popped up from the next aisle. “Hmm,” she said, tapping her finger on her lips. She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to make Renji feel self-conscious by talking about his body and also, she didn’t want to make it obvious how much time she’d spent looking at Kurosaki’s butt. “Those are skinny jeans. Abarai is a lot, um, more muscular? than Kurosaki-kun? He would do better with a straight leg cut, I think.” She wished Uryuu were here. She didn’t know that much about men’s clothes, but she had heard him say that once while lamenting Chad’s tragic commitment to bootleg cuts.

Apparently, Rukia had no such qualms about Renji’s positive body image. “Hear that, Thunder Thighs? This is where all those squats get you.”

If this bothered Renji, he didn’t let it show. “My thighs are majestic, Rukia. Some people enjoy a guy with a little meat on his bones, for your information.”

Rukia laughed then, a sharp, amused guffaw, almost a cackle. Orihime looked up suddenly. She was sure she’d heard Rukia laugh before, but it had been a high-pitched giggle, a girlish titter. There was a gleam in the shorter woman’s eyes, and at first, Orihime thought she was being mean to Abarai, but when she glanced at him, his eyes were twinkling and he had a slight smile on his face.

Orihime got the sudden sense that she was interrupting something, although she wasn’t sure how you could interrupt someone making fun of someone else. She ducked her head and focused on rifling through the rack of pants in front of her. “How about these?” she asked, holding up a likely candidate.

“Those look pretty worn out,” Renji frowned.

“They’re distressed, Renji,” Rukia explained pompously. “It’s human fashion. They come that way. It presents the illusion of leading a rough and tough, adventurous lifestyle, even for fancy boys like you.”

“Rukia,” Renji scolded her. “Members of the Sixth Company do not walk around with their knees on display, for anyone to see.”

Rukia snorted, and Orihime suspected they were making yet another inside joke. “How’s he gonna find out? And if he does, you can just tell him you fell down the stairs, he would definitely believe that.”

“Er, here’s another pair without any holes,” Orihime offered. “They’re black.” Uryuu also had a lot of opinions on black jeans, but she was pretty sure Renji could pull them off.

“Thank you, Inoue,” Renji said, extra-graciously, reaching over the rack to accept them.

“You better try them both on!” Rukia yelled in her bossy voice. “I demand to see the forbidden knees!”

“Whatever, you’ve seen ‘em, before,” Renji muttered, but he was still smiling.

👖   🧥   💀

“Hey, Inoue!”

Orihime ducked past a rack of sweatervests, to where Renji was contemplating a leather jacket.

“Do humans still wear stuff like this? I know they were pretty popular a few decades ago.”

“Oh, yes,” Orihime agreed. “It’s a timeless look.”

Renji looked mildly shocked, but happy.

“That’s a really nice one,” Orihime added. “You should try it on.”

Renji didn’t seem like he needed a lot of encouragement to slip it over his shoulders. “I had a roommate who had one of these,” he admitted. “They look pretty dumb over a shihakushou, but Iba has never once let looking like a moron slow him down.” He grinned. “I was jealous as hell of it.”

Orihime clapped her hands. “Oh, Abarai, it looks so good on you!” It wasn’t even an exaggeration. It was black, a classic motorcycle cut, and it fit him perfectly. Orihime amended her mental movie casting of Renji: in a jacket like that, he could definitely be the protagonist of an American motorcycle movie, flicking cigarettes into the gutter and leaving a broken-hearted girl pining after him after he got run out of town for Raising Too Much Hell.

“Is it expensive?” Renji asked, holding out the sleeve with the price tag. “I don’t know what a jacket is supposed to cost.”

“It’s a very practical wardrobe staple,” Orihime advised. “Especially this time of year. It’s just starting to be jacket weather, and this will carry you through until winter, unless we have an especially cold one.” She checked the tag. “Leather jackets aren’t cheap, but this is a very good value. If you can afford it, I think it’s worth it.”

“I think I can make it work,” Renji murmured, obviously doing a bit of mental math.

“Hey, Abarai,” Orihime said, leaning forward, and keeping her voice low.

“Eh?”

“Is it going the way you planned? Do you think we’re cheering Rukia up?”

Renji opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I think we at least took her mind off him for a bit. What do you think?”

Orihime contemplated. “She seems like she’s having a good time. I think she liked looking at your butt when you were trying on pants.” Renji raised a skeptical eyebrow. To be fair, Abarai had a very nice butt. Orihime was pretty sure she still preferred Kurosaki’s butt, but it hadn’t exactly been a trial. “On the other hand, she does yell at you a lot,” Orihime said quickly. “She’s very difficult to read.”

“Yeah, I know. It takes some practice,” Renji replied. “And she hasn’t been yelling at me. You haven’t begun to see Rukia yelling at me.” He rubbed his chin. “I think we’re doing a good job. Thanks, Inoue! I couldn’t have pulled this off on my own.”

Orihime blushed. “Oh, I haven’t really done anything!”

“I think you und--”

Orihime never found out what Renji was going to say, because Rukia came skidding into the coat aisle. She was wearing a denim vest, a feather boa, and a cowboy hat, and clutching something in her hands. “Hey! Hey, Renji! Renji, I just fou...nd…” She trailed off as her eyes scanned Abarai up and down, lingering on the leather jacket. Her mouth dropped open a little.

Orihime’s eyes darted to Renji, who looked paralyzed by this development. His hand went to his hair self-consciously, his fingers getting caught in his bandana awkwardly.

If Orihime had felt like a third wheel up until this point, she realized that sometimes bicycles can be very hard to ride if you aren’t used to them, and third wheels are helpful when you’re in danger of tipping over and crashing. “Rukia, look at the jacket Renji found! He’s being waffley! Help me convince him to get it!”

Rukia came back to herself suddenly. “It fits you perfectly, you fool! Listen to Orihime.”

“I dunno,” Renji drawled, having pulled his act together as well. “It’s kinda expensive.” He started to grab another coat off the rack. It was tweed and had elbow patches. “Might keep looking for a bit.”

“No!” Rukia commanded, and Renji’s hand reflexively dropped the hanger like he’d just touched something hot. Rukia cleared her throat self-consciously. “Speaking of things that are non-negotiable, look what I found for you!!” With a flourish, she unfurled the bundle in her hands, which happened to be a t-shirt.

At first, Orihime had no idea what she was looking at. Obviously, it was a t-shirt. If she had to guess, it had been printed by a garage band full of teens that played a lot of covers and had to bum rides to their gigs. There was a drippy looking skull and some words in English. It was objectively terrible. But in a charming way.

“I love it!” Renji shouted, with far too much enthusiasm. “I don’t read English very well, though, what does it say?”

“I don’t either,” Rukia admitted. “I think this says ‘red’, though.”

“It says ‘red pineapple,’” Orihime supplied. They had just finished the unit on fruits and vegetables in English class. She had gotten a 100 on the test.

Renji and Rukia both burst into gales of laughter.

“How much is it?” Renji wheezed. “I’ll pay a million kan for it.”

“They use yen here, you buffoon,” Rukia gasped. “It’s got an orange sticker, what does that mean?”

“That means it’s on special clearance,” Orihime explained, scanning the chart hung on the wall. “100 yen.”

“Ha, ha, that’s cheap! It’s mine!”

“You were skeptical,” Rukia lectured, wagging a finger, “But I told you, didn’t I, Renji? Orihime knows what she’s doing.”

Renji wiped a tear away from his eye. “Double ice cream for Orihime,” he agreed. “What would we do without her?”

Orihime’s face felt very hot. She waved her hands frantically. “Really, I didn’t--!”

“Also, remind me what ice cream is again.”

“You dummy!”

Orihime stopped protesting. Anyone who didn’t know what ice cream was definitely needed her help.

[hinatas-sunshine]

Synopsis: Kirishima is put through hell by a Villian who makes people see their worst fears

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: cursing, Mentions of death, murder, and PTSD

A/N: I was feeling extremely sad when I wrote this so here’s me pouring my sadness into a writing, thank you guys again for reading my head cannons, enjoy my first one shot. <3

Kirishima’s eyes looked everywhere; fire burning, smoke polluting the air, buildings toppled down. His usually bright world was now grey, dull and torn. His panic tore through him as he searched for you, looking for those e/c colored eyes that belonged to you.

What he didn’t expect is Bakugo holding you by the neck as you dangled in the air, feet kicking and holding onto Bakugo’s arm gasping for air. His blood boiled and heart racing as his quirk activated running towards you, his whole world fell to a slow motion as Bakugo looked at Kirishima before your screams filled the air, Bakugo’s own quirk having blasted through your chest.

Kirishima’s own screams filled the air in sorrow, as his best friend stood over your own body looking at his hands. Bakugo’s controlled body was now attacking Kirishima, who threw his all into the battle against his best friend, feeling his heavy heart.

“Kirishima you have to understand! I can’t control my body!”, the blond haired boy yelled over his blasting. “Who cares! You killed my y/n! You bastard!” Finally Bakugo’s own body fell having been knocked out by Kirishima.

“Y/n...y/n!” Your boyfriend screams were the only thing filling the emptiness of his city, his feet carrying him to your fallen body. Kirishima has never felt more alone, more broken, his world seeming to go slow at the worst times. Kirishima held your body close to his, his cries echoing and your hand holding his jaw bringing him down placing a kiss on his cheek, “L-look at me Kiri.”

He did as told, seeing your usual sparkling eyes dull and half shut. You gave him a half smile running your hand through his red locks, “I-I love you. D-on’t forget-t me, ev-er.” You whispered before your eyes shut as Kirishima held your hand in place, his screams full of pain, grief, and loss filling the air once more.

“Y/n! I love you! Please! Please don’t leave me! Please!” His choked sobs continued as he moved his hand feeling your limp one fall while he cried into your still chest.

“Kirishima!” You shook your boyfriend worriedly. His eyes slowly opened, vision blurry seeing your stressed face hovering over him. He sat up pulling you to his chest sobbing, you held onto him tightly before pulling away and running your hand over his red locks.

He stopped you and he pulled you back, “Please don’t ever leave me. Please y/n. Never leave.” He whispered over and over into your neck, you stroked the back of his head. “Baby...what did you see? What happened?” You tried asking but he shook his head, “That bastard killed you.” He mumbled pulling away, glossy eyes looking into your own ones filled with love, and worry for him.

It wasn’t until you two reached the dorms and you noticed Kirishima ignoring Bakugo that you decided to question him again. “Hey, you just ignored Bakugo? He was really worried about you.” Kirishima scoffed before looking at you, “Since when does Bakugo worry about anyone?” You were surprised with his response, but you sat with him anyways and held his hand, to which he responded with laying his head on your shoulder.

“The villian we fought, if you looked into his eyes, you’d pass out and see your biggest fear... Kirishima, what did you see?” He looked at you, heart feeling heavier just replaying the memory in his head. “My biggest fear was you dying, and to make it worse, dying at the hands of Bakugo.” Sadness, maybe fear too washed over you. You opted to just holding him while he just held you back, because you knew nothing you said would help. Either way, you still spoke.

“I’m not going anywhere my love, I’m going to be by your side for as long as you’ll have me.” You assured him, his shoulders shook as he cried softly clutching onto your shirt. It hurt seeing your boyfriend in so much pain, but all you could do is help him through it.

Time went by and his memory of the whole thing seemed to only pop up every so often in a dream, a nightmare. Things were going well until the sports festival, you didn’t expect anything to go wrong, no one did.

Kirishima pumped his fist into the air, cheering for you as you smiled at him, eyes sparkling with excitement. You turn your attention to Bakugo to let out a “Tch.” And looked away from you. You smirked and activated your quirk, getting ready to fight.

Your breathing was heavy as you did your best to dodge Bakugo’s attacks until one wrong step sent you flying back and hitting a wall, Bakugo’s blast hitting you in the chest. You winced in pain as they lifted your body and took you away to Recovery girl.

Kirishima on the other hand was panicking, eyes dark and quirk activated as he ran to go check on you, but was warned that he couldn’t go in, so he was worrying the whole time until it was his turn to fight Bakugo.

Bakugo automatically noticed his dark aura and smirked, not knowing Kirishima’s pain. “Oi!shitty hair, don’t hold back.” Kirishima glared at him, “I wasn’t planning to.” He said activating his quirk to attack Bakugo.

He felt like he was reliving his nightmare, but one thing distracted him, and it was you slowly walking to your seat and smiling at him, your eyes still sparkling, and you cheering for him even if you still had some pain in your chest.

Bakugo took the chance and knocked Kirishima out of the ring, but Kirishima wasted no time going to you and holding you. “Oh my gosh don’t scare me like that ever again y/n.” He mumbled holding you tightly ignoring the pain in his back.

You held your boyfriend, kissing the side of his head, “I told you Kiri, I’m not going anywhere.” He sighed in relief at those words, “I couldn’t save you then, but I’m so glad you’re still here now.”

A/N: this sucks but I’m still posting it - I’ll be posting a headcanon writing a little later today or maybe two depending on if I finish it :) I’ll be trying to work more on one shots but I was feeling angsty yesterday and I had a rough day, it fell short Bc I stopped feeling sad a few mins later so I’m sorry 🥺