#maybe i could try to just record my ugly ass voice and use that

[deyadee]

My Account(s) Got Deleted

I probably haven’t mentioned this before because honestly I was embarrassed for having one, but for the past few months- maybe since November, I had a TikTok account. Originally I made it so that eventually I could make YouTube videos because to that point I was horrified at hearing my own voice on recording. I figured if I could crap put some random video here and there I’d eventually be ok to move on to actually making bigger more essay-style videos.

After about 150ish videos I got decently popular with 500 followers, 38.3k likes, and 88k views on my top video with pretty consistent rates. Near the end I had 1000 views or more on even my not-as-great videos. I got a confidence boost from it getting comments saying I was actually pretty funny or was entertaining to watch. Since I never appeared on camera, only showing my hands and voicing over top of the footage I never got any comments about how fucking ugly and fat I was. I felt like I was actually good at something in my damn life for once. I mainly made videos about my hyper focuses, anime, monster high, movies things like that. I felt really happy when people would say they’d watch one of the weirder anime I talked about because I convinced them to.

Though a few days ago, I went to check my account first thing in the morning because I liked looking at the comments people had left on my videos after I fell asleep. Only instead I was met with an alternate account that I set up like two years ago for this unboxing series I was doing with a prompt that said my account had been reported for being too young. I’m fucking 21. How goddamn old do you need to be to post videos on a goddamn platform that has 90% fucking children? I went to refute it but when the screen popped up to input my actual age it just fucking disappeared. I spent the rest of the day miserable because there was nothing I could do. I asked for why I was fucking being removed and it just fucking shrugged and said “Oh well, you kind of sound like a kid. It’s your fault you should put in your bio your age and verify your account with your driver’s license and appear on camera.”

1. Who the fuck hears someone’s voice and just immediately assumes “Ah yes this is a fucking child, let’s report them” Thanks you fucking whore ass goddamn motherfucking bitch. I’m sure you think you’re doing the world a goddamn favor by getting rid of a random account. Not like a fucking kid couldn’t just make another account or go to another website. Which, if this website is supposedly for 14+, then why is all the fucking language and everything on there so fucking sanitized that it might as well be goddamn Sesame Street because goddamn forbid adults use bad words.

2. What fucking website makes you verify your age with your driver’s license? I know Facebook and every dick-sucking website has our personal information and there’s goddamn nothing we can do about it, but do you really need my fucking driver’s license? I’m sure you already have my fucking social security number, anything else you fucking pigs want?!? And bullshit it’s to “protect the children” 90% of your fucking customer base is children, is fucking over adults who want to use your goddam platform to make videos about anime so fucking bad for your goddamn bottom line? If you wanna protect the children so fucking badly why do you try to make it appeal to children so fucking bad and then fuck over people who SHOULD be allowed to use your goddamn app? WHY DO YOU NEED TO VERIFY MY ACCOUNT WITH MY PERSONAL GODDAMN INFORMATION USE THE FUCKING EMAIL VERIFICATION LIKE A NORMAL GODDAMN WEBSITE YOU BITCHES!

3. I goddamn hate the notion that “Oh well you should’ve shown your face” WHY SHOULD I BE FORCED TO SHOW MY FACE ON A SOCIAL MEDIA WEBSITE?!?! Am I not allowed to make short-form video content because I don’t show my face for everyone to call me a fat fucking ugly ass hog in the comments?!? I felt happy and confident about myself for once in my goddamn life and now “Oh well you should be born pretty otherwise you’re not suited to make entertainment”

I don’t care about the majority of my videos but some of them I was legitimately proud of and felt like I actually made good content. Some of my best videos are 5-7 minutes long and I didn’t save them because of how much memory it would take up on my phone. So now a lot of my best videos are gone forever. Deleted from history for fucking ever. Because of one goddamn bitch.

I tried to refute the claims but all it did was say that I violated multiple community guidelines even though I read through each one and didn’t find a single goddamn one that I could’ve infringed on. The only one that could’ve was nudity because I have a Nendoroid of En Yufuin from Cute High Earth Defense Club Love that has a body that you can switch out that has a long towel wrapped around his waist which would count because his nipples are out. Two flat dots on a piece of plastic. AND HE’S A DUDE BY THE WAY! I see whores on that app all the time with their tits and ass out but I can’t have a figure show up for two fucking seconds in the background of a video?!

I thought about moving over to YouTube but I tried uploading some of my videos on there and they got fucking 0 on everything, I might as well have uploaded nothing. My content is too long to be a short and too short to be those five hour long iceberg “deep dive” videos that just list the most bare bone info that you can get from glancing a wiki article’s thumbnail. My content doesn’t work on YouTube. TikTok is for shitting out content that isn’t that high quality but is fun to watch and kill 1-5 minutes of time. YouTube is sitting and watching huge ass highly edited videos of someone reading off a script. Not that I can’t make those videos (at least the reading a script part), I just feel I’m better at making short to medium length videos about recommending weird anime or just ranting about something that comes to mind. On YouTube you have to actively CHOOSE to watch videos, on TikTok you’re force-fed them. Out of all the highly edited, high quality, longer videos on YouTube mine is just shit. People have had YEARS to perfect how to get people to click on their videos, while I record random videos of staring at a shelf and mumbling about some new thing.

I mustered up enough confidence to try again and make a second account. I uploaded about 6 videos that I quadruple-checked to make sure were safe and baby-proofed as possible, only for it to get taken down after 4 days. Again it says I have multiple community guidelines violations when I read the fuckers up and down to make sure everything I had was squeaky fucking clean and it still wasn’t good enough. Unless that same fucking skank that fucked me over the first time came by to fuck me over again.

I can’t do it all again. I feel crushed. I don’t think I could ever get to that same level my first account had. I feel like this is a sign from the universe saying “Stay down. Go back to working at the fucking dollar store and letting your dreams die.” I know I wasn’t anywhere near actually getting paid for my work or having some kind of fanbase but I finally felt proud of myself for something I did only for it to crumble to the ground again. Why should I make another account? It’ll just get deleted for no fucking reason. Why try YouTube? I can’t compete. Why put my ugly fucking face on camera if I know everyone will skip right past because even the scum on the bottom of the gutter looks more pleasing to the eye. I can’t do this anymore. I hate feeling like I’m finally good at something, feeling like o have something to live for only my entire existence to prove to be useless other than being a fucking cosmic punching bag. I’ve been trying to be more positive, surround myself with more positive media and content, but it’s all for fucking nothing. Look on the bright side of fucking what? That I exist to die. That I exist to be fucking nothing. That everyone and everything else has a purpose and I’m just here to mooch off of my fucking parents until I finally stop being such a goddamn pussy and end it all?

I know if I wasn’t scared of pain and needles and knives then I’d would’ve been dead years ago but me being too much of a pussy has got me here. WHY AM I STILL FUCKING HERE?

How do you reach out for help when you know you’ll just make it worse? How do you try to climb up from the ashes if you’re just going to burn and burn and burn and fucking burn until you finally stop getting up?

I try to believe in the fucking “indomitable human spirit” but I don’t fucking have it because I’m not goddamn human. Normal goddamn humans can get back up and keep going. Normal fucking humans don’t have to run off to their little suicide blog and bitch like a fucking child because they didn’t get heir fucking way. Other people can accept what they’re destined for and where they’ll end up, or if they can’t they can fight and win. You never hear stories about those who gave up because they’re dead and forgotten.

I probably won’t do it this time because I never have. I get so close. I grab it. I hold it. I aim it at my head, but I can never bring myself to do it because I’m scared I’m gonna fuck it up and end up paralyzed and praying for death every day of my life but no one will answer. Just another sob story.

Maybe I’ll finally get what they call an “NPC mode” where you just go mentally blank and live like a goldfish. Moving to live. Breathing to live. Creating just to get by. Eating to live. Living because there’s nothing else to do.

ADDING ON:

I went on vacation with my little sisters this week and I think I came out worse than when it started. I mean besides losing my account and self esteem, I swear every time my little sister speaks it’s just to sink the knife in deeper.

“So how old are you going to be? 22? EWWW THAT’S OLD!”

“I thought you were supposed to be the tall one in the family”

“Yeah because I have friends and go outside unlike you”

“At least I don’t wear the same outfits everyday. Jean shorts, Emo t-shirt, and hat to hide your balding head”

“Why won’t you watch this with me, you don’t love me you hate me how come when I talk to you you get angry”

I know most of them are jokes but it just felt like every time she was genuinely trying to make me die more inside. I’m too fat, I’m going bald, I have no fashion sense, I dare to get angry after being bitched at constantly, I’m useless, I’m old, I’m wasting my life, I have no friends, I have no job. I swear I’m ready to just fucking smack her I’m so fucking done. I can’t tell my family or they just say I’m being a little soft bitch that can’t take a joke. “What, you’re offended? Ok, nobody make fun of Deyadee, you’ll hurt her feelings! What 22-year-old can’t take a joke from a 14-year-old?”

I just can’t fucking take it, I just wanna shut myself off from the world so I don’t have to deal with it. But since I live in the same house and I’m mooching off my parents there’s nothing I can do but wait until I’m alone to cry. Because I can’t make it a problem that I don’t like something. I can’t say that I hate myself. I can’t say that a fucking child is making me cry myself to sleep every night. I already constantly think about how much I fucking hate everything about myself, I don’t need an hourly reminder on any day that I’m relatively happy. It’s like she specifically watches me to know when would be the best moment to crush me so I can’t do anything. When we’re in the car and I’m singing a song she’ll say “You look at the legs and you look like a child, waist and you look like a fat kid, and face you look like a middle-aged woman” and then be fucking surprised when I don’t respond and just think about carving myself up with a butcher’s knife. I go quiet and don’t respond because I’m just trying to keep myself from seeming like it affects me but it always does. God I just wanna die.

[falsettosmakesmeupsettos]

me: i should definitely try to make video essays where I rant about musicals

also me: *isn't willing to show her face on the internet, has no idea how to edit a video, has the intelligence of a potato*

[helenazbmrskai]

hey

can u write CEO!JK giving ridiculous tasks to assistant!y/n and she has enough and punishes him for it?

Pairing - CEO! Jungkook x Assistant! Reader

Genre - CEO AU, Pinning, Smut, Secret Crush AU

Summary - Mr Jeon to make it up to you for giving you ridiculous tasks he lets you sit in his chair and eats you out on his knees. yes. that's the plot babies

Warnings - y/n yells at kook but they obvi make up later, smut, dom!reader, sub!jungkook, dirty talk, teasing, licking over panties, oral (f), vaginal fingering, mention of masturbation (m), you cum around kookie's face, he also uses his nose to rub your clit, very slight degradation (one sentence only, you call him dumb but that's all), jk likes the taste of your pussy very much

Word Count - (2,1k)

Author note. Hope you like it!

You like to think that you're a very patient person. It's a trait that you got from your mother. It takes a lot for the people around you to rile you up so you're wondering how Jeon Jungkook could do that within five seconds. It must be a new record.  

He's your boss so try to refrain from glaring or rolling your eyes at him even when he tells you the most ridiculous task to carry out. You should give him a tight lipped smile and be on your merry way to do what the youngest CEO of the company wishes. But! Enough is enough. It was a shitty day, to begin with. First, you woke up late last night your washing machine broke down so you had no clothes to wear to the office your only option was your old pencil skirt that's way too short for you now to wear and some ugly yellow blouse. Like you said, not your day. 

Jungkook checked out your ass when you bent to pick up his pen. The pen which you're sure was not just accidentally dropped.

Getting him his fourth coffee of the day was however the last straw, one more thing and you're bound to blow up. 

"Can you get me the-"

"No, get it yourself!" You almost growl at him when he dares to bark another order for you. Yes, you're his assistant but you're not his personal maid that he can just order around. He's way past the bounds of professionalism so why should you care? Especially when you're so ready to put this bratty CEO in his place. 

"I'm not your coffee girl or your maid. Only call me if it's of some important matter otherwise I'll be doing my paperwork that I couldn't finish because of your ridiculous orders! I'm not paid to babysit a full grown manchild." 

Ok, maybe that was a little too harsh you swear you saw tears gathering behind his eyes. Slamming the door behind you was unintentional too. He did take my words seriously though since you haven't seen even a single hair of his after your outburst. 

You hope that you didn't make him cry. If he did you would feel too guilty for yelling at him. He's also the CEO if he cries after his assistant yelled at him this company is in big trouble.

You've been dreading this hour all day after that little outburst in his office but you have to clock out and maybe even wish him good night since you're feeling pretty guilty. 

You hear his soft 'come in' after you knock. His eyes go back to his paperwork when he sees it's you. He's looking pretty meek for a CEO. You're both tiptoeing around each other. You ask him if he needs you to look over something else and he tells you in a soft voice that he can take care of the rest. 

It's so awkward you want to crawl your eyes out. Fuck. You really owe him an apology.

"I'm sorry Mr Jeon I didn't mean to yell at you. I just..I was having a bad day but it's not an excuse. What I want to say is that I'm sorry and I understand if you want to fire me I'm-"

"What? Fire you? No! That's not what I want at all!" Jungkook looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. You have to admit that he's kinda cute. His tie is loosened around his neck and his hair is messy like he has carded his fingers through it to calm himself down. 

"I'm the one who is sorry Miss L/N. I know that you're not my maid and I'm sorry for being so unprofessional. I would like to keep working with you if you...if you would allow me."

You smile at his genuine apology he's usually a sweetheart a little childlike sometimes but he takes his job very seriously and he always asks about your day, your weekend he really pays attention to you and listens when you speak. 

"Apology accepted Mr Jeon." Jungkook's grin widens matching your own as the air clears around you. There's still something in your mind that you can't get over the thought of. 

"Why did you make me do all that bullshit for you? You're normally not like that. You do your job very diligently it's not like you to ask me to do coffee rounds." His ears visibly turn a hundred shades of pink. The way he avoids making eye contact with you means that he's shy for some reason. 

"I-" He stops as soon as he starts but you wait for him patiently to get his thoughts together. "I didn't know how else to get your attention. I'm so sorry I know it's childish of me. Why would you ever want to date a manchild? I'm there are more suitable men out there that-"

"Stop." You raise your hands up to stop him from rumbling further. He said what you think he said?

"Did you try to ask me out on a date all day? Wait a minute. If I get this correctly did you annoy the shit out of me so you could have the opportunity to see me? Correct?"

You groan when he nods his head so innocently. Manchild for sure. You take the time to really look at him though. He's tall handsome and powerful. That's what his business partners see or the people when he's on the top pages of the Forbes. 

What people rarely know about him is that he's a very emotional person. He takes a lot of things to heart and tries to keep everyone happy at the company and meet the needs of the people. Wears his heart on his sleeves.

"Well. Will you ask me?" He looks confused for a moment and your eyebrow raises. His eyes grow two sizes bigger when he realises what you're implying.

"W-Will you go on a date w-with me?" Seeing the CEO of the company being a stuttering mess is kinda empowering. You have him in the palm of your hands and you didn't even know about it till this point. 

"Sure let's go on a date and see if we could work well together. I go on one condition though." Jungkook tenses but eagerly waits for you to tell him your conditions.

"No more stupid tasks." Now he can tell that you're just pulling his leg. A big smile stretches across his face as he nods like a cute little puppy. Cute.

"Everyone already left though." Your smile grows as the distance between you gets smaller. You only stop when you're directly in front of him. Grabbing the armrests on both sides you turn him to face you fully and your knee brushes up against the space between his thighs nearly missing his cock.

"I think you earned your punishment Mr Jeon." Jungkook gulps it's hot how you call him Mr Jeon but it's clearly you who has the power. He wouldn't mind you taking the lead and that's exactly what you do.

Your gazes are locked on each other, it's quiet at the office so you don't have to be afraid someone will interrupt your fun time. Your hand curls around his tie first before you lean down to claim your boss' lips for the first time. 

"Y-Y/N w-we're at the office." Jungkook is the first one to pull away. His lips tell you something else as he longingly licks them as if he could taste your lips on him still.

"Did I give you permission to call my name? CEOs should be smart so why are you being so dumb, baby? Everyone left except for us." Jungkook normally doesn't like to be called dumb but the way you say it doesn't sound like an insult at all. If anything his cock twitches as you speak to him. 

N-No, I'm sorry M-Miss L/N." You push his fringe back and plant a small kiss on the middle of his forehead.

"Good boy."

Jungkook preens when you call him a good boy. You fucking knew he would like that. 

"Only good boys get to be touched in the CEOs chair. Get on your knees." You raise your brow when he doesn't move but seeing your expression it finally clicks that you're serious. You will really punish him. He didn't know what to think about that but his cock certainly liked the idea of you dominating him when he's normally in such a high position. You're his assistant he should be the one giving you orders. 

You push your skirt up as you take a seat where he was with your legs spread wide on his leather seat. 

You motion for him with your fingers to get closer and he does without question. The first thing you do is rake your hands through his hair gripping the roots at the back of his head pulling him closer to your core. Your white panties are in his line of vision and he swears he can see a small damp spot on it in the middle. 

"Go on. Show me how sorry you are." You give his hair a tentative tug his lower lip is between his teeth to keep his noises to a minimum. Jungkooks look up at you from his kneeling position with half lidded eyes before he licks his lips and gives your panties a playful lap. Your whole body shudders when you feel his tongue roll around your clothed core dampening your white panties with his spit until it's sticking to you like a second skin. Faintly but he could taste your natural essence you're so sweet he would like to get a real taste now but he has to be patient. You'll reward him if he's good enough. 

With renewed motivation, he starts licking and sucking pretending that it's your bare cunt rather than the barrier of fabric that hides you from him. Going lower with his flat tongue his nose nudges the hood of your clit that gets a gasp out of you. Liking your reaction he rubs his nose against your swollen nub repeatedly while his tongue continues to lick where he can reach you. Your sighs are getting louder encouraging him to keep going. Seeing how eager he is to please you, you momentarily force his head to back away a little just enough so you can hook one finger at the crotch of your panties and pull it aside. 

Seeing your cunt for the first time makes a loud moan reverberate through his chest he doesn't waste much time admiring your glistening folds he's going mad for a taste and a taste he gets. The lewd sounds of him slurping up your juices makes new gushes of arousal greet his mouth and he tries to get it all drinking you up. 

His nose finds your clit again that you appreciate with a small tug of his hair his moans shooting more pleasure through your core tightening around nothing. 

"I'll cum soon. Soak your face with my cum and you'll drink it all like a good boy right?" Jungkook could only nod his head slightly, never faltering his tongue's movements licking you throughoutly until your legs start shaking around his shoulders. 

The moment his long fingers thrust into your core your walls tighten around the digits, you cum around them with a loud moan. Jungkook whines against your pussy when you release his lips puckering as he tries to catch every drop. You smell and taste amazing. He might become obsessed.

He thinks his punishment is over but it's just only started. You deny him when he asks you to fuck him. You only offer to watch how he makes himself cum with his hands around his cock your name rolling off his tongue as you lick some of the semen that you get with your pointer finger from his stomach. You're such a tease but he likes it. He likes his punishment. He might do it again.

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

I Know What You’re Thinking, You’re On My Mind (You’re Right)

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Angel are in love and these are different moments in the span of their relationship.

Warning(s): Just a lot of fluffy goodness....okay some angst (it’s me lol) but mostly fluff

Word count: 2,526

AN: This is kind of a songfic, but also not really? I think of it as a bunch of drabbles loosely connected by random parts of a song. Song title and inspo from Come Close by Common ft. Mary J. Blige. The sweetest little fic I’ve ever written. Fat Black girls deserve to be loved loudly. This is for us. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading lovelies! xo

Smile, happiness, you could model it And when you feel opposite I just want you to know Your whole, being is beautiful I'ma do the best I can do Cause I'm my best when I'm with you

The sound of a domino being slammed on the table caused several other park goers to turn their heads and see a striking woman jumping out of her seat.

“That’s domino bitches! Y’all really thought you could beat me in dominoes? Shoulda checked my credentials mofos!” Y/N shouted, a huge smile on her face as she talked shit.

The guys around the table all groaned and huffed as she celebrated her win. Coco swore up and down that he would be the winner and Gilly was just as sure that he would be the one. EZ just wanted to play and Angel kept his mouth shut knowing his girl had been playing dominoes with her father and uncles practically all her life.

“Whatever, Y/N. You not seeing me in poker.” Coco grumbled, though he was fighting to keep a smile off his face. He was impressed.

“Well this aint poker is it? Run me my money.” She replied, rubbing her fingers together before holding out her hand.

The men all pulled out their wallets and placed the correct amount of money into Y/N’s hands. She grinned as she fanned herself with the money before draping her body across the smirking Angel’s lap.

“Oh hey there sexy. If you’re nice I might buy you something with this considerable fortune I just won.” Y/N winked.

“You my sugar mama now?” Angel teasingly asked.

“I do taste sweet so I think I fit the description.”

“Damn right you do.” He smirked, before leaning down to kiss Y/N’s lips.

Santo Padre’s mayor, Antonia Pena, had put together a community fair to help raise money for the town and uplift spirits. It was also a great way for local businesses to showcase what they have to offer. Services and items were put into a raffle that everyone who attended the event got entered into. Y/N even managed to convince Felipe to have a little booth to show off his fine cuts of meat and how they could best be used in meals.

Angel was so in awe of her. She managed to pull even his grumpy ass father out of the house and she was constantly a source of light in his life. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but he knew he never wanted to let her go. He loved her more than anything and he knew she felt the same about him. She never doubted him or made him feel inadequate. She understood even the ugly parts of him. Didn’t excuse or condone his behavior, but she understood it and always reassured him that she knew he could do better.

“Whatchu staring at?” She asked, after the kiss ended and he kept his intense gaze on her.

“My whole world.” He answered honestly and she felt herself get a little emotional.

“If you make me cry in public, I will hurt you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He replied, nipping at her shoulder and making her grin.

I know in the past, love Has been sort of hard on you But I see the God in you I just want to nurture it Though this love may hurt a bit

Neither of them had the best track record when it came to relationships. Angel had an awful habit of doing things without thinking about the consequences of his actions. Impulsive isn’t a strong enough word to describe how he is. He runs on emotion a lot of the time. It frustrates Y/N to no end. She doesn’t operate like that. She rarely if ever acts on impulse. She thinks too much. Worries too much about how people will react to her and her actions. Her hesitance to engage in things before she’s run every possible scenario through her head makes Angel want to pull his hair out. He hates seeing her unsure of herself. He makes it his mission to help her just get lost in the moment sometimes. And she tries her hardest to slow him down and make him think more on things before he acts.

His lifestyle also guaranteed their love won’t always be sunshine and roses. The first time Angel got hurt Y/N thought she was going to pass out. The level of panic and fear she felt almost took her down. When she finally got to see him in the hospital bed, she burst into tears. Once he was healed, she tried to pull away from him but he wouldn’t let her. The one time Y/N was verbally and physically accosted in front of Angel, he almost shot someone right in front of her. The need to protect her almost overrode his need to keep her away from the more violent side of himself.

The silence was deafening. Neither one was ready to take the first step and speak. The whole ride back home, Y/N never said a word. Not when Angel was getting chewed out by Bishop or when several people practically gawked at her even as they tried to make it seem like they weren’t. She was silent as she went through her nightly routine and prepared for bed.

It was as she sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to slide under the covers that Angel finally snapped.

“You’re really not gonna fucking say anything?” He practically growled at her, glaring at her from where he stood at the foot of the bed. He had on his usual sleepwear of a tank top and sweats.

She sighed, “What do you want me to say Angel?”

“Anything. Cuss me out, kiss me, or I don’t know, maybe thank me?” He suggested, sarcasm in his voice at the last part because he was clearly exasperated.

She cut her eyes at him fiercely. “Thank you? You want me to thank you?”

“Yes.” He stubbornly confirmed.

She shot up from the bed and spun to face him full on. She had never been so mad at him. “Thank you Angel for causing a bigger scene. Thank you Angel for almost igniting a war between two gangs over one stupid joke. Thank you for putting yourself in harm's way and almost giving me a heart attack. Thank you so much Angel.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It wasn’t just a stupid joke. You think I care so little about you that I wouldn’t fuck someone up for you?”

“I’ve heard way worse..” She argued, so used to minimizing her pain. Her dismissal of the incident as something trivial made him even more pissed.

“I don’t give a damn what you heard. Aint nobody gonna disrespect you in front of me and think I’m just gonna let that shit slide.”

“You could have killed him.”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.” He exploded, making her freeze and stare at him with her mouth slightly open. “You’re mine. I don’t know what kinda cowards you been dealing with before, but I don’t play that shit. There is no joking when it comes to you. Not from some hijo de puta who has the audacity to put his hands on you. He’s lucky the only thing I did was bust him in the head with my pistol.”

“Angel…..” She sighed, her eyes closing as she took in his words. She understood his point but was still uncomfortable with the methods.

He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead before resting his head on hers. He spoke only after she opened her eyes, “You can be mad. I already know you are, but I’m not apologizing for protecting you.”

She had to get used to being loved and protected so adamantly by someone. So often left to comfort herself and bury her hurt, it took her a while to accept Angel’s form of protection. A part of her kept her guard up waiting for him to turn it against her, but that day never came. Any violent outbursts he had in her presence were never directed at her and so she found herself trusting him whole-heartedly. Her love for him deepened as time moved forward.

You helped me to discover me I just want you to put trust in me

Y/N loved Pops and she enjoyed the family dinners with him and EZ, but she knew he was not the perfect father. He made mistakes and Angel still hasn’t completely dealt with the issues the mistakes left him with. Everything just got buried. She knew when he was starting to feel inadequate or like he didn’t deserve her because he would become even more clingy. He was already very affectionate with her, always having a hand on her back and kissing her head. She loved how open he was, but when he was going through it the touches would have a desperate edge to them. Like he was trying to prove something.

A new episode of Joseline’s Cabaret played on the tv showing off the Puerto Rican Princess’ latest antics. Y/N had on sweats and a tank top as she laid on your back and giggled at the fight on her screen. She doesn't know why she watches that show, but it was entertaining.

Her front door opened and in walked the man she’d been seeing for a year now.

“What did I tell you about leaving this door unlocked?”

“I knew you were coming over so why would I lock it?” She argued, tilting her head back to watch Angel toe off his shoes and take off his kutte.

“You’re so hard headed.” He slapped the outside of her thigh and leaned in for a kiss before lying in between her legs. His head rested on her stomach and her hands immediately began running through his hair. His hands ran over her thighs as he buried his face in her belly and just breathed her in.

“You walked right in so obviously I was right.” Her hands moved from his hair to slide down his back, feeling for any new bruises. “How was your day? Do I gotta kick someone’s ass for messing with my man?” She asked, a teasing tone to her words even though she was kinda being serious.

“I’m all good, mi dulce.” He responded, already knowing her touches were to comfort him but also give herself some peace of mind that he was with her and he was still whole.

It was quiet for a moment before Angel propped his chin on her belly and looked at her. She brought her attention from the television to him. There was a gentle look in his eyes, full of love but also a vulnerability that made her heart clench.

“You love me right?” He gripped her hips tightly as he searched her eyes for the truth in her words.

Her eyes widened at his question. “Of cour-”

He interrupted her. “Because I love you so damn much, querida. I know I’m not easy, but I try to be better for you.”

“Angel…” Her hand gently caressed his cheek as she softly smiled at him. “You are my favorite person in this whole world. You love me like no other and I’ll always love you. Never forget that. And when you do, I’ll be here to remind you.” She leaned forward to kiss his lips and felt his grip on her hips loosen.

The two shared loving kisses for several minutes before he pulled away and kissed her stomach before laying his head back down. His attention finally focused on the television. “What the fuck are you watching?”

She was unable to contain her giggles.

I kind of laugh when you cuss at me The aftermath is you touching me

“Oh, is that funny? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not at all gorgeous.” His words and his facial expression did not match.

“Then why are you smirking? I’m as serious as a heart attack. If you miss the ceremony where I’m awarded for my work, we’re gonna have some big problems Reyes.” She threatened, not letting that smirk get to her as it usually did. The club pulled him away a lot but some things she just needed him present for.

“Mmhm…how big?” He asked, still joking around.

“Angel!” She admonished, striking out to punch him in the stomach and making him grunt.

“You know I love when you scream my name. Sexy as fuck.” He growled, before playfully tackling her to the bed. She finally laughed as he kissed and nipped at her neck. He pulled back to look down in her eyes. “Hey, come hell or high water Imma be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

The smile she flashed him was bright enough to light the darkest of nights.

I'm tired of the fast lane I want you to have my last name

Dabbing her eyes with a napkin, Y/N smiled as Angel and EZ shared a heartfelt hug after the best man speech. She knew EZ’s speech would be beautiful and she thanked him for his kind words.

“You’re my sister for real now.” He responded, making her wanna cry again but she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before Angel pulled her into a side hug.

“First dance time.” He whispered in her ear, taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

“How does it feel to be Y/N Reyes?” Angel asked, his eyes taking her in. She looked so magnificent in her wedding dress. He wanted to rip it off, but also he couldn’t take his eyes off how good she looked in it. If he shed some tears when she walked down that aisle, who could blame him?

“It feels like the most natural thing in the world. I’m so beyond honored to be Mrs. Angel Reyes.” She responded, her eyes filling with happy tears but she refused to let them fall. She just felt so overwhelmed with happiness. Even though he’d long gotten rid of the jacket, she loved that he actually wore a suit. He hardly ever wore one and it was a damn shame. He looked so delicious she couldn’t wait for them to get back home.

Y/N found herself really taking the moment in. Their family and friends watched them with huge smiles on their faces. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Angel for long as he held her in his arms, his hands always making her feel safe. This was her life and he was her future.

Her eyes twinkled as she asked him, “Ready for forever?”

Come close to me, baby (Yeah, love) Let your love hold you (Let me hold you tonight, babe) I know this world is crazy (It gets crazy, but I'll be right here) What's it without you? (We gon' make it, I love you, I love you, I love you)

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fifteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: NSFW!!😈😈 please disregard colorado window tinting laws for this chapter

***

Cassian has yet to regret getting Nesta that personalized record, despite the fact that she plays it everyday on repeat with a near obsession. Is this what true love is? Letting your girlfriend blast the same songs through your home again and again, and never tiring of it? Never tiring of her?

He doesn’t get to ponder on it, because while Nesta spends the week lazing pantsless around the house (“I’m getting ready for the party,” she states while he rubs her feet. “Spiritually and all that.”), Cassian has to figure out how to turn the cabin into an inviting space for forty wealthy guests.

All of Nesta’s shit gets shoved in the back of his bedroom closet. Personal items and framed pictures of the two of them are swiped off any surfaces. Lights go up around the house. Catering is secured.

By the time it’s all finished, the cabin has been stripped of all warmth and familiarity and turned into something chic and upscale, suitable for a small gala. Nesta stares around at the space when it’s done, her face revealing nothing.

Cassian points to the small sitting area on the second floor, directly above the open living room, that leads outside to the wraparound balcony. “We’ll be able to see fireworks from there,” he says. He turns to see Nesta’s face is still carefully blank, the way it is when she’s thinking too many things at once. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks. “It’s not too late to cancel the whole thing.”

She looks at him in horror. “It most certainly is. The party’s tomorrow.”

“Still not too late.” Cassian might not have that much power in the overall Night Court hierarchy, but for Nesta he could figure it out.

She smiles wanly but shakes her head. “We’re doing this, and we’re not letting it go to hell like last time.”

***

Nesta knows her sisters are aware that she’s on the guest list for the party (though she can’t imagine what Cassian’s explanation for that one was), but she still stiffens when she enters the cabin through the open door. Her eyes fall on various men and women that she’s never seen in her life, all glammed up and dripping self-importance, until recognizing Feyre and her boyfriend laughing with an older couple in a corner. The only thing that brings Nesta a little peace is that the snide woman, Amren, isn’t here tonight, having chosen to spend New Year’s with her boyfriend in California instead.

Nesta eases up when nobody takes notice of her, though a few nearby guests throw appreciative glances in her direction. She looks like a disco ball in her sequined wrap dress, and a freezing one at that. She shuts the door behind her, sealing the winter air out, but quickly pulls her hand away from the knob. It feels like the door isn’t hers to touch. She realizes that even though the cabin is her home, no one here except Cassian knows that.

Speaking of Cassian, she needs to find him. Nesta is not such an advanced creature that she knows how to survive in a room full of strangers on her own, and she no longer cares if anyone finds her clinging to Cassian weird.

She makes it three feet before she’s accosted by Morrigan, carrying her usual champagne glass like it’s an extension of her.

“Nesta!” she exclaims, loud and bright as ever. She smiles broadly, with too many teeth. “You’re here.”

Nesta blinks in response. She doesn’t understand how Morrigan benefits from this exaggerated excitement. Is it supposed to be insulting or polite?

“By the way,” Morrigan adds when Nesta doesn’t reply, “what exactly are you doing here?”

A heavy arm slides around Nesta’s shoulders, pulling her close. “I invited her,” says Cassian with a smile. “Because she’s my friend, and this place is practically hers.”

“Oh, I think that’s an exaggeration,” Nesta says sharply, trying to step away from Cassian.

He holds her closer. “No it’s not. We were roomies for over two months, remember?”

Morrigan winces, looking between the two of them. “Right,” she says slowly. “I keep forgetting that. Cassian is like this with everybody,” she says apologetically to Nesta. “Don’t take him too seriously.”

Nesta nods solemnly, wanting this conversation to be over. “I won’t.”

Her exit is made clear when the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” she says quickly, escaping from under Cassian’s arm.

Hurrying to the door, she swings it open.

Eris Vanserra stands looking irritated on the other side. He freezes when he sees Nesta, and then his face lifts into a smug grin. “Oh, this is too good.”

“So Cassian Madani was your sugar daddy all along?” Eris asks her later.

“Say sugar daddy one more time. I dare you.” Nesta stands near the stairs with her arms crossed, trying to pretend she isn’t associated with Eris. Which is more than a bit difficult when he keeps badgering her with questions, and Cassian is giving the two of them odd looks from across the room.

“I mean, what are the odds?” he laughs.

“My sister is dating his CEO brother.”

Eris throws her a look of surprise, but Nesta says, “How do you even know him?”

Eris sticks an hors d'oeuvre from a nearby platter in his mouth. “He manages security and logistics at every event Night Court is involved in. Can be a real pain in the ass to work with when I’m trying to get shit done for my dad’s company.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she retorts.

They’re interrupted by Feyre and Rhys appearing before them, Feyre with her hostess smile and Rhysand with an inquisitive look on his face. Nesta can’t tell which one of them is more attached to the hip of the other.

“Eris,” Rhysand greets smoothly.

“I see you’re already acquainted with my sister,” Feyre says. Her tone is tense, either because she’s still pissed at Nesta or—even worse—she feels protective of her.

“We’re classmates,” Nesta says tightly. “Does it matter?”

Feyre tries not to look hurt. “No—I just didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Ladies,” a new voice says warningly. Cassian’s left whatever droll conversation he was stuck in and made his way over to them.

“Is the entire party congregating here?” Eris looks around himself.

“No, we are not,” Cassian says, all his usual friendliness gone around Eris. “I just came to ask Feyre to talk to the representatives from Spellbreaker before they pull all their money out of our latest operation.”

Feyre’s eyes go wide and her tattooed hand goes to her chest. “That’s not really my job—”

“Oh, come on, darling.” Rhysand slides a hand around her waist. “I’ll go with you; the art of negotiating is easier than it looks.”

Nesta nearly pukes in her mouth, but she maintains a careful blank face until Feyre and Rhysand are successfully out of sight. Cassian turns to Eris with a stony look. “You’re still here?”

Nesta sighs internally; this man has never hidden his feelings in his life.

Eris shares an amused glance with Nesta as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Is there anywhere else I should be right now?” he replies.

“Maybe in hell.”

Nesta claps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and fakes a smile at Eris. “Tell your brother hi for me,” she says while pulling Cassian away. “I miss talking to a sensible redhead.”

“That’s because you have awful taste,” Eris calls after her. Nesta drags Cassian deep into the hallway, where no one lingers.

She releases him without flourish. “Are you doing okay? Because it seems like you’re having a harder time with this than I am.”

“I’m fine,” Cassian defends. “I was just hit with a terrible memory back there.”

“Like what?”

“That you’re friends with Eris.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. Friends is a very liberal term, but she won’t correct Cassian while he’s acting like this. “Thank you for helping with Feyre and Mor,” she says instead. “I didn’t need it, but I still appreciate it.” It’s a hard thing to admit, but she wants him to hear it.

“I was just trying to get you alone,” he says, leaning against the bathroom door. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all night.”

Nesta looks him up and down, from his white dress shirt and tied back hair to his uncharacteristically polished shoes. “For what?” she says warily. “If this is about a sex thing, don’t bother. There’s nowhere in this house for us to go without raising suspicion.”

Cassian pushes off the door with a dark look. “I wasn’t going to suggest staying in the house.” He holds a bronzed hand out toward her. “Wanna get out of here?”

***

Cassian doesn’t remember how he ever managed to fit all six-four of himself into the cramped backseat of his truck when he was fucking girls in college, but for Nesta he figures it out somehow.

Her pretty little dress is shoved down to her midriff, baring her arms and flushed breasts, and her skirt is bunched up high enough that Cassian can watch as he moves his fingers inside her. The glow of lights from the cabin lands on her perfect face as she throws her head back in pleasure, and he can only watch her in awe.

He laughs lowly when she whimpers and eases a third finger into her wet heat, in no rush to return to the party anytime soon. Let them all wonder where he and Nesta wandered off to.

But Nesta has far less patience than him; she pulls him in for a frenzied kiss and uses the distraction to slide her hand into his boxer briefs, palming his cock. He groans into her mouth as she pulls out the length of him from his unzipped pants, and it’s at that very moment that two voices interrupt their panting.

“Thanks,” a muffled female voice says from outside the truck. Cassian looks up through the dark tinted windows to find—Jesus Christ—Mor accepting a cigarette from Rhys. The two of them stand some feet away from the truck, unaware that anyone is occupying it.

“Some way to end the year,” Rhys is saying, watching the clear night sky. Nesta’s gone completely still beneath Cassian, not needing to get up and look to know who stands in the driveway. “Would have been even better without Nesta terrorizing Feyre at every turn.”

Sickness turns Cassian’s stomach at hearing such ugly words about Nesta come from his brother, but that sickness is quickly replaced by rage as Mor huffs a laugh. “She’s not that bad,” Mor says, taking a pull from her cigarette. “Though I could do without the attitude at every damn gathering.”

Rhys clicks his tongue. “She’s always been like that, even when the sisters were kids. It kills Feyre.”

Cassian glances down at Nesta, terrified of what he’s going to find on her face. But Nesta doesn’t look hurt or enraged like he expects. Instead, she’s listening closely with her brows furrowed, studiously intrigued.

Noticing Cassian’s attention on her, she meets his eyes and her breath hitches. A blush takes over her cheeks, and she clenches involuntarily around the fingers still deep inside her. Cassian realizes that his fury is written all over his face. And she likes it.

His anger at his friends flickers—or rather, transforms. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of Nesta. He sits up a bit straighter and kneels properly on the backseat, earning a curious look from her. Hunching so his head doesn’t hit the truck ceiling, he wraps his hands around her thighs and maneuvers her legs up, up until they’re hooked over his shoulders. She nearly chokes at the new position.

He adjusts them so his cock is pressed right up against her sex, and looks out the window again, where Rhys and Mor are still talking. It’s all idle gossip, he knows, but... “What do you think, baby?” He slides his length over her slick folds. “Should I go out there and defend your honor?”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta gasps, shaking her head.

“And it’s like when she’s not quiet as a brick, she’s being rude,” Mor rants outside, flicking her cigarette. “I know Cass is friendly with everybody, but I have no idea what he was thinking inviting her here.”

“Oh, she’s not so quiet when I have my head between her legs,” Cassian murmurs at Mor. He glances down at Nesta with a knowing smirk. “She’s not so rude when I give her the right incentive, either.” He pats her bottom lip with his thumb, the bright red lipstick smearing. “Isn’t that right, Nes?”

“Bastard.” Nesta squirms, trying to line up her entrance with the head of Cassian’s cock. She’s not even listening to the conversation outside anymore.

“I think he likes her,” Rhys says, his breath clouding in the freezing night air. If only he knew. “We don’t always use reason when it comes to people we like.”

“Maybe,” Mor ponders. “But I can’t imagine it going anywhere. They’re too different.”

“I disagree,” Cassian mutters. He finally gives in to Nesta’s efforts and pushes inside her, sliding to the hilt in one thrust. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her moan.

“There are plenty of things we have in common, don’t you think, Nesta?” He sets a steady rhythm with his hips, pumping in and out of her. “Like how well we fit together.” Her head bumps the car door with every thrust.

“You—you’re gonna rock the truck,” Nesta tries to whisper. Cassian hides his smile in the crook of her knee at the rare use of informal contraction. She’s adorable.

“We wouldn’t want that to happen,” he teases, leaning forward to take a pert nipple into his mouth. A whimper slips past her lips; she’s nearly bent in half beneath him. With this new, deeper angle, Cassian moves slow enough that Nesta feels every solid inch of him.

His loose hair falls around his face as he drops his head to the center of Nesta’s chest. It takes every bit of restraint he knows not to suckle at the space between her breasts, not to leave reddened marks there that everyone will be able to see when they go back inside. But damn if this position isn’t driving him crazy.

Mor, Rhys, everything beyond the haven of the truck falls away. He doesn’t know if anybody is still outside, or if people have noticed his and Nesta’s absence from the party. He doesn’t care, not as he swears and thrusts particularly deep into her tight warmth.

Even her hand can’t contain the sound she makes at that.

Cassian moves one of his own hands to the crown of Nesta’s head, creating a barrier between her and the car door. With his other arm, he locks her thighs into place against his chest, and begins slamming relentlessly into her.

“CassianCassianCassian—”

He silences her with a searing kiss, and flicks her clit with a calloused thumb. Nesta scrabbles at his arms, at the seat upholstery, as her orgasm crashes into her. Her walls milk his cock almost painfully, and with a few more thrusts he’s coming, too.

As he rides out his climax, he intertwines their fingers together and presses them to the freezing window. Outside, there is no one to see the handprint they leave on the fogged up glass.

***

Nesta needs a moment to catch her breath while Cassian zips himself up. Leaning against the hard truck door, she achingly fits one arm back into the sleeve of her dress, then the other. “I think I have a bruise from where that seatbelt buckle stabbed me in the ribs,” she mutters.

“Where?” Cassian looks her over, but she waves him away and reaches over to dig in the back pocket of the driver’s seat, finding a packet of makeup wipes she left there some weeks ago. She plucks out a wipe for herself and tosses the rest of the packet at Cassian’s chest, which is covered in her lipstick marks.

He accepts the wipes with a “thanks” and begins rubbing at his reddened mouth and neck. Nesta watches him instead of wiping at her own lipstick, taking in whatever the light of the moon highlights: his unbuttoned shirt, his loose hair that fell forward into her face while they fucked, his skin peppered with her marks.

He notices her stare. “What?” he says, smiling.

“Have you ever done that before?” She nods outside to where Mor and Rhys were standing ten minutes ago. It wasn’t exhibitionism since nobody had seen them, but it still felt... dirty.

Cassian snorts, starting to button up his shirt. “I’ve done far worse.” He meets her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten off to the sound of other people shit-talking my girl, though, so that’s new.”

Nesta blushes, and pretends to look around for her shoes to hide the reaction. She’s always known her bedroom experience was pathetically limited, but she’s just now starting to realize how much of that was Tomas’s fault. Not only was he boring when it came to sex, but he left her too hurt and untrusting to try anything with other men until Cassian came along.

Cassian nudges Nesta’s knee, and she finds him already holding her heels. Instead of letting her take them, he takes her feet and starts putting them on for her. “Clean yourself up,” he directs as he buckles a silver strap into place. “It’s almost an hour to midnight.”

Right. Cassian tosses her her panties, and she uses them to clean up the mess between her thighs before discarding them on the floor. “Don’t—” he tries to protest, but sighs and gives up. “You’re filthy.”

“You love it.” She picks up her forgotten makeup wipe to scrub at her smeared makeup. “Do I look okay?” She turns her face to him after a moment so he can check.

“You missed a spot.” He takes the wipe and rubs at her chin. “There,” he says softly, gazing more intimately at her than usual. “Beautiful.”

She most certainly doesn’t look beautiful right now, with the mess that’s been made of her face and hair. But he seems to believe it all the same.

I love you. The thought comes to her suddenly, unexpectedly.

“What?” Shock turns Cassian’s face.

Nesta blinks, realizing the words weren’t only in her head. “What?”

“You said—”

“I said ‘Let’s get out of here’,” she says quickly, swinging her legs down from the seat and reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go!”

She shoves out of the truck without waiting for Cassian and foots it for the cabin, breathing harshly like she just fell from a great height.

***

Nesta goes straight to the master bedroom to redo her makeup and pick up a new pair of underwear. She knows it’s cowardly to leave Cassian downstairs, stuck chatting with wealthy donors and unable to follow her, but she won’t let him confront her about the confession that spilled back in the truck. Not yet.

When she finally finds the courage to stick her head out of the room, she nearly jumps at the sight of Azriel leaning against the hallway wall.

“What are you doing in my brother’s room?” he says, as if he was waiting for her to come out.

The best lies are half-truths. “Avoiding people,” she answers vaguely, exiting the room fully and shutting the door behind her. She clears her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Snooping.” He pushes off the wall and slides his hands into his pockets. “It’s interesting; I don’t think I’ve seen you all night, and now I find you in Cassian’s bedroom of all places.”

What is this, an interrogation? “I’m good at blending in,” Nesta says. “Few people ever notice me.”

“And I’m good at observing,” Azriel retorts, dark amusement gleaming in his gaze. “Where did you run off to earlier?”

Nesta looks him up and down, too bored to bother answering him. “I’m going to go now.” She shoves past his shoulder and walks away, leaving him too stunned to follow.

She comes across Elain near the top of the stairs.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise. Her brown eyes flicker past Nesta’s shoulder, to where Azriel still lurks in the hallway. She looks back to Nesta. “I wasn’t sure if you actually came tonight. I haven’t seen you at all.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around.” Nesta waves a dismissive hand. It’s like Christmas Eve never happened between them. That’s the wonderful and terrible thing about sisters, Nesta supposes: there are no apologies, only moving on and moving past.

“Well, you look like you’re doing good.” Elain seems distracted. “I wish we could talk more, but I don’t have time for a fight tonight.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Azriel says, who’s snuck up behind Nesta. “If it’s me you’re worried about, I was just about to leave.” He’s addressing Elain, but won’t quite look her in the eyes. He turns to Nesta instead. “Happy New Year.” And then he’s gone down the stairs.

Elain stands there looking torn, wondering if she should go after him or not, but then Nesta says, “Why do you assume I would start a fight?”

“I—”

“Because if I remember correctly, our last fight was started by you.” She crosses her arms.

Elain sighs. “I just said I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m asking a question in response to a comment you made unprovoked.” When Nesta is calm, she can talk circles around Elain all night.

Elain throws her hands up. “It was just a stupid comment! I said it because we argue all the time. I can’t remember the last time we talked without arguing.”

“September twenty-eighth,” Nesta snaps.

Elain’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You got the loan for your flower shop approved and you called me to celebrate. I was happy for you.”

Elain shakes her head, but Nesta can’t read what she’s feeling. “You remember the most inconsequential things.”

It doesn’t sound like an insult, so Nesta shrugs. “Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” She turns to go on her way. Of course, Elain doesn’t stop her. She’s never been one to get in the last word.

***

It’s ten minutes to midnight and Cassian still hasn’t been able to get a hold of Nesta since she ran from the truck. He doesn’t know why she’s running from such a simple truth, but he doesn’t plan on giving her much more time to hide. He has so much he needs to say to her—

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he’s about to slip away upstairs to find Nesta. Cassian turns to find Rhysand there, wearing the serious face he only uses for work-related business. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Cassian is not in the mood. He already had to repress the urge to find Mor and Rhys and tear into them when he returned to the party, and now he’s not sure if he can manage a conversation with his brother without snapping. Without spilling everything he’s worked so hard to hide.

“Not now,” Cassian says, trying to act chill. “It’s almost midnight and I’m trying to catch the...” He trails off as his eyes catch on Nesta, who’s appeared at the second floor sitting area with Eris.

“...fireworks,” he finishes. He turns to Rhys. “Let’s go upstairs to watch.” Half the guests, including the rest of his friends, are probably already outside for the countdown.

He keeps his eyes on Nesta as he climbs the stairs. Watching as she takes notice of him and quickly turns away, smiling at Eris instead. She lets the dickhead place his hand on her back to guide her out to the balcony.

Rage and disbelief take Cassian by the throat. Hiding in another man’s arms to avoid him? Coward fucking move, Archeron.

She steps outside with Eris, and before Cassian can follow he’s stopped once again by Rhys grabbing his arm. “Cass, will you slow down and listen to me for a minute?”

“What is it?” he snaps impatiently. They’re stopped at the top of the stairs, and other guests flow past them as they head for the balcony doors.

Rhys inhales, getting visibly irritated. He says, “I got a call from one of our overseas partners the other day—”

“Rhys!” Feyre calls from the balcony doors, waving her arms at him. “Get your ass over here, it’s almost midnight!”

Rhys turns to his girlfriend, his face lightening. “Be right there, darling.” He gives Cassian a sharp look. “We’ll finish this later.”

Cassian only nods and whirls on his heel, nearly shoving people out of his way to get outside. To get to Nesta.

Up on the wraparound balcony and down below on the frosty ground, guests are lined up with their partners, wrapped up in coats and eagerly awaiting midnight. He barely feels the cold, but he knows Nesta must. He should have grabbed a coat for her.

“Thirty seconds to midnight!” someone announces, answered by loud cheers.

Spotting shining red hair, Cassian grabs Eris by the suit jacket and whirls him around. “Where’s Nesta?” he demands over the loud chatter.

Eris makes a face like he’s been manhandled by a filthy dog. “Clearly not with me,” he retorts, shoving Cassian’s hand off him. “She got all pissy and went that way.” He gestures at a faraway section of balcony where most of the guests are crowding, hoping for an optimal view of the fireworks.

“TEN!” Someone starts the countdown. Others quickly catch on.

“NINE!” Cassian heads in the direction Eris pointed, searching through the sea of glitter and gold for a glimpse of Nesta.

“EIGHT!” He hears his friends calling after him distantly, asking where he’s going.

“SEVEN!” He catches sight of Nesta.

“SIX!” He doesn’t know what he’s thinking as he navigates through the crowd, reaching for her. But he knows she’s shining brighter than the moon right now. He knows he’s been fooling himself since the moment she stepped into his cabin this past September.

“FIVE!”

He closes in on her, her back turned to him.

“FOUR!”

Let’s not go out of our way to hide this anymore, they agreed after Christmas Eve. Let’s just be ourselves around our friends and family, and they’ll find out when they find out.

“THREE!”

In Cassian’s defense, he’s simply being himself in this moment.

“TWO!”

He takes Nesta by the elbow and spins her around. She meets his eyes in surprise. “Cassian. I was looking for you—”

“ONE!”

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her.

***

a/n: punk 57 was a shit book but i gotta give it credit for the truck scene

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein

[joannasteez]

Headcanon request:

The guys going shopping with their girl while she is trying on more and more hideous clothing trying to make her man crack and say “what the fuck are you wearing?”

Not sure whose included when you say “guys” so I just did the Reyes boys since I only really write for them at the moment! Also, comedy isn’t my strong suit so hopefully this isn’t completely cringe LOL, if it is forgive me! Haha

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

Shopping is no simple endeavor, never has been, never will be. There are far too many components to just offhandedly consider the process easy. Color scheme, sizes, fabrics, the cut of the clothing, the energy of the store, the weather outside, all these factors and many more play integral roles in making or breaking your shopping experience.

But you never considered Angel to be such an influential factor, but he was, and his far off nonchalant mood was putting a damper on your shopping.

He’d been occupied by the bright screen of his phone, scrolling and tapping away vigorously, texting EZ or Coco or Gilly no doubt, or hell maybe all three at once, which was no problem any other day, but considering you wanted his insight on the things you’d picked from the lined up racks, it was becoming a tiny bit of an issue.

Every other thing you showed him he barely looked at, giving you a short nod or a thumbs up, and these outfits were GOOD mind you. Like dinner date, catching the eye of every other person around you good, baby making till 4 AM good, and he was giving you these half assed responses.

“I’ll fix you”, you thought. Grabbing a bunch of random pieces and leading him to the fitting room.

The first couple of outfits you put together aren’t horrible but they aren’t amazing either, but that’s purposeful because you want to see how much he’ll notice. And you’re actually surprised, because he does notice, the upturn in his brow telling you he isn’t that into the outfit. “Yes? No?”, you ask.

“Try something else”, he mumbles before tapping away again at his phone.

You try again. Coming out the fitting room. “What about this?”.

He looks you up and down, taking the time to look over the fit of the clothes and the colors before he speaks. “The bottoms don’t go with that top”.

You try once again, a smile giggle emitting as you throw together the craziest, most random things. ‘Time to up the ante’, you think, as you move from out the door, clearing your voice to catch his attention.

He double takes when he sees you, and it takes a lot not to burst into a fit of giggles. “You being serious? You look like a Y2K red carpet”, he scrutinizes and you tilt your head not sure of what he’s getting at, so he clarifies as he texts away on his phone. “That’s not a compliment baby”.

You roll your eyes, making quick work of changing the top of the outfit. “Ok is it better now?” You hands smoothening over the top.

He sits his phone down, brows coming together in deep thought. “You know that word people use to like describe stuff that’s unpleasant? Stuff that’s uneasy on the eyes?”

You think for a minute..... words unsure as they leave you. “Ugly?”

“Exactly”.

“Ass”, you gripe lightly. Throwing a nearby shirt his way before you make your way back to the fitting room. His voice carrying over toward you as you close the door. “Don’t even hang that top back up on the rack, just toss that shit in the trash”.

“Excuse me J. Alexander”, you mock.

He’s confused at your reference. “What?”

“Nothing”, you say, piecing another outfit together another outfit, more ridiculous than the others. “I have one more outfit, it’s good this time I promise”.

“I’m at the edge of my seat”, he deadpans.

You come out and it takes a moment for him to respond, eyes stuck on the jarring contrast of color and patterns. He rushes to you, holding your face as his thumbs pull at the skin just below your eyes to get a better view of them, expression dramatically worried.

“Are you color blind?”

You swat him away. “No Angel, what are you talking about”.

“You must be because what the fuck are you wearing?”

𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

Ezekiel’s a bit different from Angel when it comes to your shopping experience, and so despite his lack of knowledge or interest even in the complex goings on of such an endeavor, he realizes that it makes you extremely excited. He gives as much attention as he can muster, which is pretty hard sometimes, especially when it’s been a long day and his feet are hurting or if his muscles are sore. But there’s still a bit of an issue when it comes to him, a tiny issue you come to realize as you walk through racks of clothes.

No matter what you show him, even if it’s not particularly your style, he gives his approval.

And it’s kind of sweet and endearing, because he doesn’t want to dampen your mood by expressing how he doesn’t like a particular color or pattern on some dress or shirt or another, but honest opinions are crucial to the shopping experience. He’s hindering more than helping and he doesn’t even realize it, so now you’ve got to fix the situation a bit. Nudge him a little into the right direction.

So you pick up a couple of ok outfits, some not so great outfits and a few that are just completely awful. Even looking at them as you lead him to the fitting room you’re wondering why they’re even in the store.

You change into the first outfit, coming from behind the fitting room door to show him, and his head tilts. Eyes taking you in but he’s unsure of how to express what he’s thinking. “It’s...... nice”.

“Nice?”, you ask before looking down at your self. And again, it’s not awful, the cut of the top and the bottoms go together pretty well, but the colors are just off. “That’s it?........ nothing else?”

“It’s cool. If you like it, I like it”.

“Forget what I like, I want honesty”.

You’re changing again, into something a little more ridiculous, lips turning a bit at this little game you’ve been playing to see how long it’s take till he cracked and gave you some truth.

You come out again. Twirling to give him a 360 view. “Yes? No? Be honest”.

His face is scrunched, brows pulling in dislike. “It’s alright......... would look a lot better if you left it on the rack”.

You gasp, tone of the comment taking you back a bit and he throws his hands up in defense. “What? You said be honest”.

You try again, upping the ridiculousness with some janky looking braided belt and it’s taking more and more not to laugh at how good you’re putting these bad outfits together. “Ok ok..... this is better I think. Thoughts?”

He gives a once over fairly quickly. “Are we still doing the honesty thing?”

“Yes!”

“You’d look better in a burlap sack”.

There’s a near by piece of some cotton shirt that lays idle, you throw it his way. “Harsh......”, your hands slipping off the ugly belt. “And for the record, I could pull off a burlap sack if I wanted to”.

He nods. “Exactly my point. Anything is better than this”.

You’re turned now, slipping of the belt and walking back to the fitting room. “Who knew Mr. I Only Wear Plaid and Sleep in my Jeans was such a critic”.

“At least I match”, he shot back. Readying himself for the next outfit.

You’ve completely thrown caution to the wind, mixing patterns and completely destroying any sense you have of color theory. Patterns clash and the contrast of the color is just despicable at this point. A four year old could do better than what you have on, you’re sure of it.

You step from the fitting room, giving a strut and face that just might make Naomi Campbell proud. And honestly you were kinda selling it..... till Ezekiel really took a good look at you. His features dropping.

“Ok babe forreal, what the fuck are you wearing?”

Taglist: @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @superhoeva @witching-hour @noz4a2 @withmyteeth

[holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight]

Hothead

Summary:  Extended station scene from 1x03 between Carlos and TK, from Carlos' POV. A snapshot of how they started to mend things between them after TK had stormed out on the date that Carlos had tried to spring on him.

Rating: General Audiences

A/N: I do not pretend to know anything about the inner workings of a police station, their rules and regulations or what sort of things are contained in their reports. Tried to be as realistic as I could but apologies for any inaccuracies.I also do not claim any ownership of 9-1-1 Lone Star or the associated characters. Pretty sure they own me instead... (:

First foray into the 9-1-1 fandom but hopefully not the last!

Read on AO3 here.

* * *

Carlos was flipping through the files on his desk, making sure he had signed off on the last of them, when a familiar name being spoken caught his attention.

"TK Strand, yeah. He's a firefighter with the 126. Guess he got a little hot-headed."

"You can't keep reusing the same joke every time something involves a firefighter, Ben, seriously."

Carlos looked up from his desk to see two of his colleagues ribbing each other, all talk and no malice.

Jill was right – Ben liked to reuse the same heat-related jokes about firefighters, but his curiosity was peaked over the implication in regards to TK.

"What's that about one of the 126 firefighters? Did they get hostile at a scene we were at or something?"

The two cops looked over at him in surprise. He wasn't normally one to join in on gossip.

"Nah, he was off duty. Started a fight at a bar. Provoked two built men that were drunk off their asses. Bartender called it in after security tried breaking it up."

Carlos felt his worry double. What was TK doing? Why was he picking a fight? He knew he had freaked out on him the other day, making it clear there was a lot more going on internally than he was letting on, but volunteering to get pummeled? That had to be a cry for help.

"EMS clear him?"

"Yeah, he's fine, just some cuts and bruises. He's cooled off now; just gotta process him, give him back his shit, and do the usual stern warning that means bull."

Carlos seized the presented opportunity, hoping Ben would take the bait. "Hey, if it's that easy, why don't I take over? Your shift just ended and I owe you for staying late when I had my abuela's birthday to run to. I've finished the last of my reports from that three car pile-up earlier, so I'm free."

"Well, me and Ella were supposed to do date night tonight… yeah, all right, Reyes. He's all yours. Thanks, man."

"Of course. Have a good time." Carlos said, trying to play it off casual, like it was no big deal, even though he was itching to corner TK and ask what the hell he was thinking. He didn't need his coworkers knowing details about his private life so it was better they didn't know he knew the guy more intimately than professional overlap.

"I think you still owe Spencer, Reyes. Pretty boy is easy on the eyes, even if he is an idiot who started a bar fight." Officer Porter teased.

Carlos didn't bite; the station knew he was out, at least most of them did, so it wasn't that weird of a comment. Reacting would only make it obvious that something had gone on between them and he didn't need a lecture from the sergeant on duty about professional conduct or bias.

Ben passed over the folder on his way to his desk. Carlos immediately sifted through it, scanning the pages quickly to learn the basics of what had gone down.

Caucasian male, mid-to-late twenties, athletic build. 0.0 BAC on breathalyzer test. No abnormalities on basic toxin screen. No prior records with APD. No registered fingerprints in American database. New York driver's license – Tyler Kennedy Strand. Firefighter identification lists station 126. Charges of assault and disturbing the peace dropped by others involved. Release from policy custody with warning.

He read further through the other two men's files, piecing together that the story detailed matched what he had already been told.

Carlos looked up as another one of his colleagues led a handcuffed TK to his work desk and nodded in his direction. He accepted the plastic bag of TK's belongings from Jill and headed over to his… well, he didn't really know what they were.

He watched as TK held an ice pack to his temple, the odd cough wheezing out of him. He probably had a bruised rib or two, if not fractured, and it no doubt left his chest extra tight.

Carlos strode over and dropped the plastic bag of belongings onto the desk without a word.

TK looked up and groaned at the sight of him. "Seriously?"

Carlos grimaced as he sat down. "Austin's a small town, TK. Or should I say, Tyler Kennedy."

"Ugh." TK grumbled, eyes closed as he kept the ice pack against the side of his head.

"Bummer about getting arrested – people might find out your real name. Which marks the first actual thing I've learned about you."

Being good with his mouth, hands, and body notwithstanding…

"Isn't your processing me, like, a conflict of interest?" TK asked, a thin shred of hope clinging to the words.

It wasn't really an issue, given that Carlos hadn't been the deciding officer on charges and, technically, he wasn't even sure what their relationship could be classified as in order to consider it. If anything, it would be their definable working relationship that was the issue, but most officers in the precinct would have the same problem since they all crossed paths at one time or another on the job.

Carlos chose not to answer him, instead changing the subject. "The good news is that neither of your new friends want to talk about that little scuffle tonight…" he explained while unlocking the cuffs around TK's wrists, trying not to react when their hands brushed in the process. "…and since you blew a 0.0, we're not even giving you a drunk and disorderly."

He finally freed TK entirely of the metal, and TK rubbed his wrists, still not looking at him straight on.

Carlos pushed the bag towards him. "You're free to go."

There was a pause as TK digested that.

"And what's the bad news?" he asked as he picked up his stuff.

Carlos inhaled. "The bad news is that means you did this with a clear head." He swallowed before leaning on the desk to bring them closer together, lowering his voice so any nosy coworkers couldn't overhear. "I'm not trying to be your boyfriend, or even your friend if you're not into it, but you should probably talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal."

TK's eyes held so much pain as he looked back at him that Carlos had to look away. Needing something to do with his hands before he grabbed TK and refused to let go, he tossed the tissue box in front of him.

"You've got a little crud there, by the way." he added, gesturing to the side of his mouth.

TK plucked a tissue out and rubbed at the opposite side of his mouth to where the blood had piled up.

"Other side." he said, staring unblinking at the computer screen without taking any of it in. He was way too hyperaware of the man he hadn't been able to get out of his head to concentrate on the words on the screen.

TK wiped closer to the spot but still missed and didn't get the bulk of it, so Carlos sighed and grabbed a tissue of his own.

"Stop. Just… let me."

Deep green eyes bore into his brown ones as Carlos gently wiped the area, managing to get at least the worst of it. Their gaze was locked so intensely, Carlos was half-expecting sparks to explode in the air. God, he wished he could read TK's mind. There was some sort of storm brewing behind his eyes and Carlos had no idea what kind of emotion was rolling in.

He pulled the tissue away, crushing it up in his fist to stop him from saying or doing something stupid. He had already put his heart on the line enough with the man. No need to solidify his humiliation any further.

"Thanks." TK muttered, looking away finally.

Carlos didn't look at him, pretending to be wrapped up with finalizing the paperwork on the computer.

TK leaned over the desk, crossing an arm over the space between them. "Hey. I'm sorry I went crazy on you the other night." he said softly.

Carlos didn't want to reveal all of his cards, but there was no denying the thrill that rolled through him that TK was trying to apologize for what went down between them the other day. It had been eating him up inside since. And if TK was bringing it up unprompted, maybe that meant it had been bothering him too. And that he actually wanted to mend things between them.

Carlos managed to play it cool and indifferent. "I'm a cop. I'm used to crazy."

"Look, I just went through a really bad breakup. Like, nuclear bad. And then I relapsed."

Carlos had turned his body to face him but couldn't look him in the face, instead busying himself with a report on his desk. "You mean with me?"

Great, he was just a mistake. A 'relapse'. Guess that meant TK slept around, or used to, and it really had meant nothing to him.

"No. I mean with substances."

Carlos finally looked up at that. He wasn't expecting the confession, nor the way that TK was exposing himself to him right then. TK had addiction issues? Had given up substances likely due to misuse or overuse and his breakup had been bad enough to trigger using again?

Something clicked in his memory from the other night and he felt shame wash over him. "Right. Which explains your reaction to the champagne."

He had never asked if TK was even a fan of champagne or alcohol in general. He should've been more respectful and anticipated the idea that maybe TK had a poor relationship with it, or a bad experience, or just wasn't interested in it at all. No wonder he got his back up right away – Carlos had been trying to have a proper date with him but he didn't know this important thing about him. And TK was still probably pretty raw after his relapse that even the pressure to be polite would've been enough to set off some ugly emotions. That he'd have to come up with an excuse or lie, because who wanted to reveal their deepest secrets that early on?

"I'm such an idiot. I'm-I'm sorry…"

TK cut off his stammering. "No, it's fine, okay? I just… ever since I got here, it's just… it's just grey. And I just feel numb, all the time. I guess I just… I wanted to feel something."

TK's eyes were wet now, and there was nothing but heartbreaking honesty reflecting out of them.

Carlos felt his own eyes filling with moisture. He didn't know what to say. Hearing that TK had been hurting so badly, that he still was struggling so much… it broke his heart.

TK slipped his wallet and phone out of the clear bag finally and stood up to leave, heading in direction of the exit without another word. It seemed he had said all he needed to say.

Carlos couldn't let him go yet, couldn't let that be the last thing said between them tonight. "Judging by that lip, I'd say mission accomplished."

TK stared at him in irritable disbelief, the barest hint of amusement at the edges. "You really busting my balls right now?"

"Yeah. I suppose I am." Carlos replied.

He couldn't help the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk, and he felt his heart pick up its pace when he saw TK's expression break into one of his gorgeous smiles.

TK shook his head at him in mock-disappointment. "And all this time, I thought you were too good for me."

It was clearly meant in jest, but Carlos could detect the hidden truth behind the words. He was a little too stunned to say anything to dispute it, their easy banter normally coming naturally to him but he was drawing a blank.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that Carlos moved, and then he was crossing the station to chase him outside.

"TK! Wait."

TK turned from where he was walking down the sidewalk, his movements more ginger now than they were in the station. He likely was in a lot more physical pain than he had let on.

Carlos stood in front of him and inhaled a breath in the hopes that it would instill some courage in him.

"Thank you for telling me all of that. I know that couldn't have been easy. But I want you to know, it doesn't change anything for me. I still want to be with you. Whenever you decide you're ready. I…" He exhaled shakily, glancing down at his shoes as he tried to dig for that bravery somewhere deep inside him. "I really like you, TK. Not just because you're the best sex I've ever had. I… there's something here. I feel it when I'm around you. You're… you're special. You make me feel… so many things I don't know how to name yet."

Great, now he was rambling. Even better, making it clear how much of a lovesick fool he was over the guy. That wouldn't freak him out or anything.

He corrected his throat, trying to calm his anxiety. "Look, all I'm saying is that if you feel anything for me, I can be patient. I can wait until you're more ready. I think you're worth the wait."

TK's responding smile could outshine the sun. He wasted no time in coiling his arms around Carlos' waist and burying his face in his shoulder.

"I really like you too. And I do want to give this a shot. Just… when it has a better chance of not blowing up before it gets started."

Carlos pressed a quick kiss to his good temple before pulling back.

"For now, try to stay out of trouble, okay? You won't always be so lucky to get such an understanding cop like me processing you at the station."

TK blew out an exasperated breath that turned into a laugh. "I'll do my best."

Carlos couldn't help grinning at him, a much bigger fan of a laughing and teasing TK than a shattered and beaten one.

"I should get back. You gonna be okay to get home?"

TK nodded. "Yeah I already called a ride."

"Well, see you later then." Carlos said, not really sure how to be less awkward as he headed back up the stairs to return to the station.

"Hey, Carlos?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Best sex you've ever had, huh?"

TK was sporting his cockiest grin, and Carlos wished he could kiss it off of his stupid smug face.

"You would pick that as the only takeaway from that whole speech…"

TK chuckled. "No, I remember it all. I just latched onto that because it was the same for me too."

Carlos took an extra second to process and then he felt himself flushing in pride.

TK's smile softened, no doubt reading his reaction even from several feet away. "Goodnight, Officer Reyes." he said cheekily as he moved towards the car marked with the Uber sticker that had pulled up.

Carlos could only watch as the car drove off into the night.

He felt a little bereft being apart from TK after all the honesty of the evening. Something about being so vulnerable together gave him the urge to be within close quarters, not wanting to give up the resulting rush that came with exposing your heart and having it be safe with the other person.

But Carlos knew that TK needed time. And he was willing to wait as long as it took.

For now, he returned to his desk, this time with a little more of a spring in his step.

[jengajives]

the much anticipated part three in which dinner doesnt actually happen yet

part one

part two

Just inside the metal door, there was a plaque that read “TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES OR I WILL KILL YOU” in elegant, cursive lettering, and Daeron spent a long time just staring at it trying to decide whether he found the joke funny or not. At the moment, being murdered here was a genuine worry of his. The thought of Fëanor bursting into the entry hall wielding a machine gun and unloading just because Daeron had forgotten to remove his sandals felt entirely plausible. Daeron was careful to leave the shoes neatly in the row near the others. After taking a moment to examine the gold-embroidered sneakers and a pair of dress shoes polished to perfection he finally managed to speak again. “Is everyone in your family obscenely wealthy?” Maglor glanced up. He’d taken a seat on a very uncomfortable-looking metal bench to unlace his boots. “I guess so, yeah. Curufin and Caranthir have the most because they’re actually talented, but the rest of us are just kind of leeches on Dad’s fortune. He’s got more than enough.” “Yeah.” Daeron glanced at the ceiling some thirty feet above his head. “I noticed that.” “Once I finish recording, though, I should be able to hop off the charity line.” Maglor tossed his boots carelessly into the pile. “I’m gonna make it big.” “I know you are, honey.” If he ever actually finished recording. Maglor was such a perfectionist; he’d been working on his album for years. Abruptly, from somewhere deeper in the belly of this beast, came the sounds of shouting. Daeron turned to see if he could place it. The entry hall was tucked just alongside a massive room that definitely could have fit Daeron’s entire apartment four or five times over. Slick laminate floors reflected the sunset that came in through floor-to-ceiling windows over looking the valley and the distant gleam of ocean. The furniture was of simplistic design but unmistakably expensive, and in the center of the room a massive fireplace was alight with a pale red flame. The far corner featured what seemed to be an indoor waterfall, cascading alongside an opening which Daeron assumed led down to other rooms. There was a glass and steel staircase suspended off the side of one of the walls, curling up to the second floor landing impossibly far above. Directly to his right, the floor stepped down into what seemed to be a lounge of some sort. Behind that, at the far end of the room on the same slightly lower level, there was a massive dining table set with at least twenty chairs. A couple of them were filled, though their occupants were too far away for him to make out. From this table came another shout. It was so echoey in the massive room that Daeron had absolutely no idea whether there were any words in it at all. “Oh, wonderful.” Maglor sighed as he shucked his jacket and tossed it onto the little bench. “They’re fighting already.” “Who’s fighting?” “Who do you think?” The new voice was drily amused and, thankfully, familiar as it approached from the side. Maedhros emerged from the lounge wearing a tired smile, with a baby standing on top of his feet. The little one clung to his left hand and the stump where his right had once been so it wouldn’t fall as he walked it forward with short, certain steps, and when he got close he carefully lowered the baby to the ground so it could start crawling around and babbling, as babies are prone to do. Daeron immediately gave a coo and stooped to pick up the kid. “Look at this little cutie!” “He’s Curufin’s” Maedhros said. He stuck his hand into his pocket now that he wasn’t using it anymore, and gave Daeron a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad Mags convinced you to come.” “He was the one that did the convincing, actually.” Maglor looked at the baby in mild disgust. “They put you on Celebrimbor duty?” “No, I volunteered. Didn’t want to listen to them scream about whatever economics thing they’re upset about.” “Good choice,” Daeron said as he wiggled a finger in front of the baby’s face. Celebrimbor had a ridiculously chubby face and a big smile that made his eyes squish down to nothing but the narrowest slits of silver. His dark hair was surprising thick for one so young. “He’s adorable.” “He’s good company.” Maedhros smiled again. Daeron was beginning to think the expression was a trademark to him- a tired smile that looked convincing, but with nothing at all behind it. There had always been something off about the eldest Fëanorian. Personally, Daeron thought it had something to do with the hand and the scars, but it was rude to ask and Maglor had never offered any meaningful insight on the matter, so he was left to speculate. “How long have they been going off?” Maglor glanced in the direction of the dining table and Maedhros only chuckled. “Not too long. Celegorm started it and then bailed, as per usual. Mom should concede here soon and it’ll probably be safe to go in.” “Big happy family,” Daeron observed absently, because he was too occupied playing with the kid to remember not to be rude. Luckily, Maedhros just laughed softly, which probably meant he hadn’t said anything too offensive. “You have no idea.” Daeron tickled Celebrimbor under the chin. He held the baby towards Maglor. “When can we get one of these?” Maglor gave a strained smile. “Must we?” “You don’t want a baby? He’s so cute!” “Sure, sure. You know I love kids. Nothing I love more than kids.” Maedhros chuckled at the two of them, but before he could say anything, something buzzed in his front pocket. Hastily he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, and his face went somewhat pale. “Sorry. I have to take this.” He hurried from the room and bounded up the stairs two at a time in what appeared to be desperation. Daeron watched him go. “Wow. What is that about?” “No clue.” Maglor shrugged. “He’s a weird guy. You know, not as weird as the others, but weird.” “Sure.” Didn’t really satisfy Daeron, but it would be a little much to ask more about it, so he just didn’t. Maybe he could pry after dinner, depending on if they had wine or not. He looked back at little Celebrimbor and was about to follow Maglor into the lounge when they were interrupted by another yell. The voice was clearer this time, closer, and when Daeron turned he saw a dark-haired man standing just outside the dining area, looking at them. He was speaking Quenya, which was irritating, but Daeron knew enough to understand him. “I thought I heard you out here, Mags! Is this your boyfriend? Come in here right now!” He had a playful tone, but it still seemed incredibly threatening. Maglor just smiled and motioned for Daeron to follow him. “Hey, Curufin.” As Daeron approached, the new Fëanorian gave him a shrewd, calculating type of look. He was wearing a gold chain and a flashy watch on each wrist, and his outfit was so disturbingly ugly it had to be designer. There was some sort of brand logo printed over and over beneath an obscure animal print on the shirt, but Daeron had no idea what it was. His hair was long and done up in loose, stylish locks twisted with gold. He was definitely looking at Daeron like he was a cut of meat. “Oh, dear.” Curufin’s lip curled. “Isn’t this interesting? Good to meet you, pal. It’s Curufin.” He held out a hand, and Daeron was disturbed by the amount of rings on each individual finger. Hesitantly, he accepted the handshake and made a reply in clunky Quenya. “Hello. My name is Daeron.” As he spoke, he shot a glare at Maglor. “They’ll speak Sindarin,” my ass. “You one of Thingol’s?” “Curufin,” Maglor said warningly. His brother only chuckled and motioned to the table. “Welcome to you both,” he said, with just a bit of malice in his voice. Daeron took a deep breath and turned to face the others.

[thiswasinevitableid]

if you’re still taking meet ugly asks, could you do 01 or 13 for sternclay? nsfw please

Here you go! I went with 1.

we were set up on a blind date but it went horribly, so now you message me every time you have a good date because you think your tips will help me in the future, you ass.

Bzzbzz

Joseph picks up his phone and regrets it before he’s even done reading the waiting message.

Barclay: See, this is how you dress for a date at a casual place.

It’s accompanied by a photo of a headless torso, sporting a Ramones T-shirt and blue jeans.

He deletes the message. He told that asshole he was in the suit because Hayes kept him late to finish a report and he didn’t want to be any more behind for their date than he already was.

No, you know what, he’s had enough of this.

J.S: He’s dressed like a college student. No one told me you were a cradle robber.

Barclay: Just trying to help you do better next time ;)

This is the same line he gives Joseph every time he sends one of these texts

“It was great, it felt like a real conversation instead of an interrogation.”

“See, what made tonight nice was he didn’t look at his phone even once.”

“Now, what made this nice is that he didn’t mistake another guy for me on the way in.”

He has reasons, explanations, things that could make him look more like a man who had a bad day and less like the poster boy for the horrors of blind dating. But the one time he tried sharing his side of things, Barclay responded that he wasn’t doing this to make sense of their shitty date, but to make it easier on the next guy.

It was the last date in a long line of increasingly desperate attempts by his loved ones to find someone, anyone, for him to be with; being married to his work fills all his needs. Leave it to his older sister to spot that it wasn’t meeting many of his wants.

Joseph tosses the phone away, retrieves his take-out leftovers from the fridge. As he munches reheated green mango chicken, the city heading out into Friday night revelry without him, he decides that while he’s not about to take dating advice from a guy who can’t pull his head out of his ass long enough to consider someone else’s perspective, Barclay makes one good point: there’s always a next time.

And there’s no moment like the present to start planning for it.

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

Barclay cannot figure out why Logan chose this spot; it’s one step above gay cruising club. Not that he hasn’t had fun at those before, but he was hoping for somewhere quieter. Also somewhere with better food; you can tell a lot about a guy by what he orders, and fuck all about him when the only meal to be found is chips or the olive from a martini glass.

Still not the worst date he’s been on.

As Logan steers the conversation in promisingly steamy directions, Barclay glances at the bar and locks eyes with his biggest disappointment of the year. Joseph raises an eyebrow, then his face goes annoyingly neutral as he looks first at Logan and then to the bartender for another glass.

His date excuses himself and Barclay weighs how much of a dick he wants to be against how good Joseph looks tonight. He’s in a v-neck and a short jacket, dark-wash jeans making it easy to picture how satisfying hooking his legs over Barclays shoulders would be.

Barclay sidles up to the bar, leaning on it and smiling at Joseph, “You finally decide to put my advice to good use?”

“No.” Joseph replies, tarter than a cherry, and goes back to looking at his phone.

“Suit yourself, and have fun going home alone.”

The black-haired man squares his shoulders, turns so that Barclay gets a full-on view of a stunning face and sharp, blue eyes, “At least I won’t be going home with someone who’s using me for a prank video.”

“Pfft, whatever man, you’re just-” Barclay snaps his mouth shut as Joseph turns his phone, showing a Youtube channel hosted by none other than Logan.

“His modus operandi is to have viewers vote on which gay man he should go out with and string along the whole night until he reveals he’s straight.”

“I, I uh, that’s” his heart is in his shoes, “that’s not very nice.”

“That’s not all. There are three cameras recording your date.” Joseph points to three separate guys, “they’re using their phones, makes it hard to prove they’re not just texting or something else innocuous.”

He might cry. Worse, if he cries, he might owe Joseph an explanation.

“There you are baby, thought you’d run off.” Logan sets a hand on his arm and Barclay freezes, trying to work out a non-humiliating form of escape.

Joseph clears his throat, “Are you aware that recording people without their permission is illegal in this state?”

“Uh, no, but what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

“You, and those three gentleman you’re having film Mr. Cobb here, are all at risk of being charged with a misdemeanor.” Joseph’s voice is smooth and clear, utterly in control, and Barclay gets goosebumps as he pulls out his wallet and flashes an FBI badge, “I suggest you get out of here before you do something you regret.”

The quartet disappears in a cloud of body spray as Barclay slumps onto a stool and Joseph orders two more drinks, sliding one his way. Whiskey Soda, his favorite. He’d ordered it during their date.

They sip in silence for three songs before Joseph says, “I guess I passed the dubious honor of your worst date onto someone else.”

“You’re still a strong runner up.” It’s mean, but Barclay isn’t feeling very chipper right now.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad! I was trying to learn as much about you as I could while switching from work mode to a date.”

“You made me feel like I was doing all the work!”

“If you’d given me more than a half hour of your time I could have fixed that.”

“Nah, I know when a date is doomed. No point in dragging it out. It wasn’t going to be fun.”

“I can be fun!” Joseph knocks back the rest of his drink, “I’ll prove it.”

Barclay snorts, “how?”

“I want a do over. Right now.” Lights dance across his skin and Barclay gets a whiff of gin and mint as he leans so they’re almost nose to nose, “Unless you’re afraid you’ll be the dud this time.”

“You’re on.” Barclay growls, “but don’t get your hopes up.”

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

Either his pillow sprouted fur overnight, or Joseph isn’t where he should be.

He cracks his eyes open, squinting in the muted, grey light sneaking in under the curtains. The room, while tidy, isn’t his, and the clock on the wall tells him he’s starting his Saturday out with oversleeping.

Barclay is sound asleep beside him, his broad, hairy chest rising and falling soothingly. A cursory peek under the blankets shows he’s a naked as Joseph is. As the agent slips from the bed and hunts down his clothes, he starts to remember why.

They’d done something in the club bathroom, a blow-job, that’s right, and the instant Barclay dragged him into his apartment Joseph shoved him onto the bed, yanked his pants off, and returned the favor. He remembers, as he surrenders to going commando rather than wear his pre-cum stained boxer briefs, wanting to sleep with his head on Barclay’s stomach, cum still on his lips, but the cook made a very convincing argument to come up and kiss him instead.

His pants are back on when his phone lights up from it’s spot on the floor.

Alert: Snowstorm predicted to last until 5 pm Sunday. Travel limited, recommended for emergencies only. At least five feet of snow predicted.

“Shit” he whispers, pushing the curtain aside to discover a world of smooth, white roof tops and impassable streets.

Jinglejingle

He spins, startled, as what he thought was a black pillow shakes out it’s ears and rises from a cushion at the foot of the bed. It’s the single most absurd dog he’s ever seen, like someone smushed a corgi and a Rottweiler together. It blinks at him, cocks it’s head, and then shifts its attention to the bed.

“Please don’t jump.” Maybe he can still sneak out on foot, or find somewhere else to wait out the storm.

The dog launches it’s tubular body onto Barclay, who “oofs” and is laughing before he even opens his eyes.

“Hey boy, yeah, I know, I know, didn’t let you in until way after bedtime.” The cooks deep voice is scratchy with sleep. The dog wiggles and digs at the blankets on his chest as he turns his head, smiling Joseph’s way, “morning babe.”

“Good morning.” Throwing himself out the window would result in hypothermia. Also a broken ankle. So no luck there.

Barclay notices his jeans, “Oh, uh, if you need to go that’s cool. I, uh” he yawns “I have a policy of making breakfast after a hook-up, but if you’re in a hurry I can just get you some coffee for the road. C’mon Sass, let me up.”

“I, um, I can stay. I don’t have much choice.”

“What do you--oh fuck, I knew we were getting snow this weekend but no one said anything about a fucking blizzard. Guess you’re crashing here for the weekend.”

“I guess so.”

Barclay’s smile shrinks, “Is that a shitty outcome?”

“No! Or, um, I just” Joseph sits on the bed, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to impose. I was trying to get out of here so I wouldn’t make things awkward since I, um, I don’t do this much.”

“Gotta say that was kinda obvious.” It’s a gentle tease, Barclay’s fingers flipping through his phone, “huh, when did I take a video last night?”

“I think you--oh, oh my lord.” Joseph claps his hands over his mouth, blushing at the memory.

“What, did I talk you into karaoke or somethi--holy fuck.” Barclay scoots to where Joseph is frozen, holding the screen where they can both see it. The same face growing excited beside him is looking up at the camera, lips wrapped around Joseph’s cock as a voice urges him on.

“You like that, big guy?”

Barclay nods, pulls off so he can drag his tongue up the shaft with a grin. Then he swallows it almost to the base, Joseph’s hand flying past the lens to stifle a moan.

“That’s it, show me how much you like it, s-so the next time you feel like sending me a snarky text you can watch this and remember just how much fucking fun you had sucking my dickAH.” A laugh as Barclay sits back on his heels, pulling off the condom.

“C’mon blue eyes, bet, bet you’re gonna look great when you cum, fuck, think I ruined these pants just watching you. Heh, you like that, like getting me hard and wet on the fucking bathroom floor.”

“Usually it’s, it’s the other waAAaay aroundohfuck, shit.” Cum spatters across Barclay’s face. The cook licks his lips, still smiling, as the camera sinks to his level, Joseph giggling behind it, “here, let, let me clean you up.”

“Don’t want everyone else to see your cum all over me?"

“Nngn. I, I mean no, not in actuality.” Joseph’s hand returns to the frame, gently cleaning Barclay’s cheek with toilet paper.

The video ends there. Joseph is red from his hips to his cheeks, but not so embarrassed that he misses Barclay rubbing his thighs together. Then the cook meets his eyes and sets the phone aside.

“I can delete it. Know your face isn’t in it but if you’re more comfortable with it gone, it’s gone.”

The offer alone calms him, “No, no it’s okay. Thank you for offering. I, um, since I’ll be here awhile, can I use your shower?���

“Sure, it’s just through there.” He tips his head at the door in the left wall, grabbing a robe from the door and heading into the chilly apartment, Sass clickclick-ing on the hardwood after him.

As always, the world is more manageable when he’s clean. A pair of sweatpants and a thick, blue sweater are waiting for him on the bed, and coffee-swirled air coaxes him into the kitchen. It’s small but immaculately organized, Barclay moving from stove to cabinet to fridge and back again in an intimate dance.

“Coffee on the left is yours. I’m doing pancetta in the omelettes; most of my friends are vegetarian so I never get a chance to bust it out.”

“That sounds delicious.” He picks up the mug, sighs as warms his chest, “mmm, you have real cream somewhere in this house.”

“Yep. Remember you said you liked the real stuff when you could get it. I drink mine black, but really these beans demand cream instead of milk; sets of the chocolate notes really nice.”

“I can never taste those. Same thing with wine. But I guess that’s why you’re the professional and I’m not.”

“That’s more a happy coincidence. I got into this to help with the bills when I was in high school. I wasn’t, like, combining flavors and deciding to be a cook like in Ratatouille or something.”

“That’s a Pixar movie, right?”

“Only the best one ever made. Have you really not seen it?

“I, um, I only watch kids movies if I’m babysitting my niece. Which doesn’t happen as often as I’d like.”

“Well, now I know what we’re doing after breakfast. Ah ah, Sass, not for you.” He shoos the dog from where it’s valiantly trying to double in length to reach the table.

“Is his name short for something?”

“Sasquatch.”

“Awwww.” Joseph crouches down to scritch behind one, floppy ear.

“His whole litter was named for cryptids; Nessie, Champ, Yeti, stuff like that.”

“‘Bray’ feels like an obvious one.” He smiles, then remembers not everyone is a nerdy UP agent, “sorry, never mind.”

“Uh uh special agent, I’ve been waiting to ask you about this. You don’t get to say you’re ‘like Fox Mulder’ and then not share more.” Barclay pulls out his chair, kisses his head when he sits down. He then listens to Joseph expound on canine cryptids of the midwest for fifteen minutes, fascinated the entire time.

“Y’know, I had a line cook who swore he’d been abducted by aliens.”

“What was his proof?”

By the time their plates are clean, Joseph has generated three alternative explanations and Barclay is staring at him with an expression straight from a rom-com. The cook sets up the movie while Joseph does the dishes, then pulls him under a mound of blankets.

“The heat in this place is shit, but I promise I’ll keep you warm.”

He enjoys the movie plenty, the weight of Barclay’s arm over his shoulder and, eventually, his waist, even more. They watch Ramen Girl for the hell of it, spooning on the couch while the snow makes dunes out of the sidewalk.

When the second movie is done, Joseph rolls so he’s facing the cook, “What should we do now?”

“Could keep watching movies, or bake something. I’ve got some cards and a few games in the closet. Or we could just cuddle and talk. I’m good with whatever.”

“...Could I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You’ve been so sweet all day. Why were you such an ass about our first date?”

Barclay shifts, discomfort entering his eyes, “I was having a shitty week and was hoping the date would make me feel better. I ended up so anxious after it, felt like you wanted to be somewhere else, that I kinda took my frustration out by being a dick. I’m sorry. I, um, I wasn’t even on that many dates between now and then; I’d just text you what I’d wished had happened to fuck with you.”

“I should’ve known it; no one has that many good dates in a row.”

“Sorry.”

Joseph cups his cheek, “And I’m sorry for making you feel that way the first time. I had my reasons but, well, you still had a bad time because I was flustered and couldn’t get my mind off work.”

“Think you’ve more than made up for it.”

“Can I try again anyway?” Joseph kisses him, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his sweats.

Barclay’s lips curve up, “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

Once Barclay is comfortably naked atop the blankets (space heater pointed at the bed all the while), Joseph asks if he has any condoms.

“Yeah, bathroom cabinet. But I’m not, uh, I don’t-”

“It’s not for penetration. You said last night that was a no for you.” In the reflection of the bathroom mirror, he watches him relax. If he ever finds out someone saw the tension in those muscles, heard the worry in that sweet, deep voice and pushed anyway, he’s going to set them on fire with his mind.

Barclay nestles his cheek on his pillow as Joseph fishes his swiss army knife from his jacket, puts his ass in the air and wiggles it expectantly as Joseph unrolls the cut latex.

“Is this okay?”

“Uh huh, I really love it when guys do this but, uh, it doesn’t happen much. The hair turns a lot of them off.”

“Cowards.” Joseph holds the makeshift dam in place. Barclay’s chuckle morphs into a moan as he presses his face between his asscheeks, tongue making an obscene sound against the latex. There’s a warmth to this angle that he loves, a tender sort of filthiness to the way Barclay pushes his ass back with little gasps of his name.

He doesn’t get to practice his technique often, but that makes it all the more pleasurable to re-acquaint himself with it now, find the ways of pressing and curving his tongue that make Barclay’s ass tense under his hands.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, I take it all back, every rude text, you’re gonna drive every date you get crazy, gonna make them wonder how they got so lucky to get someone so goddamn wild.”

“I don’t think I will. I think” Joseph kisses the small of his back, “I think it’s you. You bring it out in me, you make me want to do all the things I’d be ashamed to ask for the rest of the time.”

Barclay whimpers happily.

“I’m serious. There’s something about you, I feel like I can want what I want without shame.” He nips his right cheek once, gently, “or maybe it’s just that what I really want is you and everything else finds into line because of it.”

“Fuuuck, baby, please.” Barclays weight shifts as Joseph eats him out ever more messily, “wanna, wanna make you feel good.” He’s rubbing his dick, Joseph can tell by the sound.

“May I?”

“Uhhuh, fuck, c’mere” Barclay grabs him as soon as they’re both sitting up, “was gonna pound you into next week but I dont wanna waste time with the harness right now.”

“Then we can do that tomorrowAH, ohlord” his hand stutters on it’s way to Barclay’s cock as calloused fingers circle is dick, “god there is not a part of you that disappoints, you’re just a wet dream from top to bottom.”

“Aw, babe.” Barclay kisses his shoulder, groaning as Joseph thumbs his dick, “fuck, speaking of, you gonna tell me what you meant in the stall last night? About things being ‘the other way around.”

Now it’s his turn to hide his face, “Promise you won’t think I’m dirty?”

“Babe, your mouth was on my ass a minute ago. You’re dirty and I fucking love it.”

“I, um, I, when I travel for missions I look for, for places that have glory holes.”

“Oh fuck” Barclay ruts against his palm, “that’s a fucking amazing image blue eyes. You on your knees, trying to keep that fucking suit clean while a fucking parade of guys shove their dicks down your throat.”

“I, it’s an easy way for me to get off, I can edge myself until I’m done and then cum without anyone being the wise but, god, half the time I’d think about this, want this.” He speeds up his strokes, pumps his cock into Barclay’s fist.

“What, a hairy trans guy?” Barclay bumps their noses together.

“This” his free hand glides along Barclays arm where it’s holding him, “s-someone to see me, hold onto me, fuck the whole of me and not just the acceptable, easy part. But” he meets brown eyes, teases slick skin, “I, the other times I fucked someone like this it, it was like I was still in that fucking stall. Last night, today, I’m here, I want to be and I am.”

“Baby.” The word comes in a sweet rumble of understanding just as Joseph cums with a gasp. He holds on for dear life as Barclay joins their hands and guides his fingers along his dick, forces his mind to memorize the movements and shapes for next time.

Barclay cums with a groan, flinging his hands up to cup Joseph's head and kiss him. There’s cum on his arm, on Joseph’s fingers and now in his hair and he cannot bring himself to give a shit. Gradually the kisses trail to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone, and then Barclay is nestling his head under his chin.

“I, um, I think it might have been a good thing. That first date. I can be overly focused on work, can forget to turn off the special agent questioning mode and just talk like a person. I’m glad you saw those parts of me and, um, and decided to give me another chance.”

“Hey, you saw that I could be kinda sensitive and stubborn when I think someone did something wrong and you still saved my ass from being humiliated on the internet.” Barclay sighs as Joseph pets his hair.

“Do you, um, want to keep getting to know each other? Good parts and bad?”

Barclay looks up at him. Sees him.

“Yeah, blue eyes, I do.”

[personasintro]

either way | knj drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; it's just a matter of time before one of you snap

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; namjoon x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, smut, e2l

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5.5k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: fingering, strong language, penetrative & unprotected sex, creampie, biting kink

𝘢/𝘯: commissioned by the wonderful @falsemagic​ who was kind enough to let me share this with you!

Humans are difficult to deal with it, especially when you're surrounded by hundreds of them every day. The older you get, you always realize how hard it is to work with them. Although, you're not someone who gets irked by the littlest thing and your patience is set high, there is still one person that makes your blood boil just from hearing his voice.

Kim Namjoon is the definition of perfect employee, who's doing more than his job. Maybe that's why he irritates you so much to the point, you can't even stand his voice. From what you've heard, he graduated from one of the best colleges in South Korea which earned him to work in this firm just a few months after he graduated.

It took you four years to get here, something he managed to do in record time, just because your college isn't as prestigious as his is. Jealousy is an ugly quality a human being can have, you're aware of that. Yet, every inch of your body hates him for being so perfect.

When you first started, it took you some time to get used to things, especially to a new environment along with your position. You messed up couple of times, didn't prove yourself of being worthy to get a better position, and Kim Namjoon didn't help with that.

You can perfectly imagine him being that one annoying kid in high school, who'd always raise his hand at every chance he got. Because it felt the same way whenever he interrupted your presentation, coming with wiser opinions and ideas. It was your only way to prove yourself that you're perfectly capable of doing the same job like he does, even without all the diplomas and experiences he had.

He had it so easy, and still has. It irritates you how everyone always agree with him, he could literally tell them to jump out of the window and you're pretty sure they would. Everything he says or does is a pure gold, an automatic success for the company.

It was exactly three years of watching him swaying his way to every meeting, proposing ideas which always became real. You've never had that many opportunities to talk to him outside of the meeting, when he'd just interrupt your speech with a brief raise of hand, pointing your errors. It was boiling inside of you for so long, that one day you just let it out.

“Who does he think he is? Just because he has a perfect education, everything he says is right and perfect?” you snap, trashing your hands to prove your point. Just the thought of the meeting that ended five minutes ago, is making you furious.

It's the same old story. You came with perfect idea how to save more money, where the Mr. I Know Everything just cut you off once again. He has to make it on purpose, there's no way he's being like this with everyone.

“Well, he had a point.” Jungkook says, causing you to glare at him right away. Did he just agree with Namjoon?

“See? This is my point! Everyone just agrees with everything he says,” you blurt out, not being able to contain your anger anymore. Jungkook widens his eyes, surprised by your sudden outburst and he opens his mouth, probably trying to calm you down and not to raise too much attention in the middle of cafeteria. “Education is not the most important thing. People can be very good in what they're doing but they're never going to get a opportunity to bring something new, when there are people like him.”

Poor Jungkook, the only employee you can vent to about your hatred feelings about Namjoon's personality, just stares at you with worried eyes. It pisses you off even more, because Jungkook is one of those people who think of him as an inspiration for the company and to other colleagues. Everyone is fucking blind when it comes to Namjoon.

Yeah, that guy knows what he's doing and his ideas are great. But he keeps attacking you, not giving you enough space to become better.

“Okay, I think you should calm down. I know you hate him, but even you know he's really best in what he's doing.” Jungkook interferes, words carefully spilling out of his mouth as he waits for his coffee to be done.

His words dig into your heart even more, spilling more anger and you try really hard not to scream in desperation.

“Yeah, go suck his dick, Jungkook,” you roll your eyes, catching the way his brows shoot up in surprise before he frowns in hurt. You're being rude to your only friend here, but he's not exactly being a friend, does he? “He thinks he's so perfect, always helping everyone even when they don't ask him for it. He's so fucking annoying, I can't stand him. Does he think he owns it here?” you continue, spitting every word with so much anger that you miss Jungkook's widened eyes.

“Y/N, I think you should--”

“What? Now you want me to shut up because I'm telling you my opinion? I'm not going to shut up just because we're talking about Mr. Kim Perfect Namjoon. He's so fucking irritating, always in everyone's faces--”

“Seriously, Y/N--”

“What?!” you yell out of frustration, completely oblivious that the whole cafeteria turned silent and people stare at you.

Your cheeks flush, embarrassment washing over you over the fact they probably heard every word you just said. You stand by it, but the look they give you makes you want to hide. Of course, they would stare at you like that, they're up in Namjoon's ass probably ever since he started to work here.

You finally notice the way Jungkook coughs awkwardly, reaching for his coffee as his eyes look behind your shoulder. Huffing, you turn around to follow his vision of line but your breath is hitched in your throat when your eyes meet the one and only, Namjoon himself.

His face is unreadable, standing just a few meters away from you with a piece of cake in his hands, before a dark glare illuminates his warm eyes. You're fucked. He heard every word you said, with the rest of the staff. You can't even open your mouth before he turns around and leaves the room, leaving you with your red cheeks and guilt digging in your heart.

Since then, nothing much changed. He still interrupted you whenever you had your presentation going on, barely looking at you but if he did, he'd have this dark look in his eyes. That time you've realized he hates you the same way you hate him. Maybe he always did, but now he just finally had the guts to show it.

A single glimpse of him wearing a dark blue button up with black slacks, a thick lenses sitting on the bridge of his nose, is enough to make you clench your jaw in annoyance. That bastard is hot, and he probably knows it by the heart eyes he gets from almost every women in the conference room. He's holding a pen, clicking on the small controller as another slide fills the white wall. He speaks clearly and wisely, explaining everything that needs to be explained, before someone can even think about the question.

You're not in denial, you know he's very wise and attentive, probably works hard in his free time as well. You're jealous that he knows everything and can think of solution in minutes, you're jealous how every colleague of yours admires him. It's okay to acknowledge his work, but constantly talking about him, praising him for the smallest things he does, is just irritating. Everyone is so far up his ass that it's unbelievable.

The conference room is darkened with blinds, making sure everyone sees Namjoon's presentations projecting on the wall, and you take that time to fully observe him. He doesn't seem to be abashed by the amount of eyes set on him, not showing an ounce of nervousness on his face or mannerism. He looks relaxed, the complete opposite of you when you're in the same position as he is.

It's wrecking enough that the CEO of the building is sitting at the head of the table, listening to presentations every Friday, along with other employees. There are twenty of you, throwing ideas at the end of each presentation and showing your opinions, but the final word always comes from Mr. Jung.

“Thank you everyone.” Namjoon says, bowing slightly when it's the end of his presentation.

The same round of applause resounds in the room, causing you to mentally roll your eyes at them. They barely give anyone applause and if, it's weak and forced. You hate how everyone seems to be so enthusiastic by him and his stupid presentation. Luckily, you had time to take notes and weren't busy gawking at that dickhead.

Blinds are up, a bright light illuminating the whole room as Mr. Jung gives him the words of praise which causes Namjoon to smile at him, showing a gratitude with a brief bow. You sigh, clicking your pen against the glass table as you look up at him. He catches your eyes, staring at you behind the desk as he cancels his presentation. He has the audacity to raise his brow at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek almost as if asking you 'what you are staring at?'.

You can't hide your roll of eyes this time, quickly looking away from his. It's embarrassing enough that your eyes met in another hateful stare.

“Does anyone have any objections?” Mr. Jung asks, but it's a simple formality he always does, just to show that everyone can speak up. He knows no one will have any objections, not when it comes to Namjoon. Even the round of applause is the same as every time he speaks up in front of everyone.

Although, you haven't had that many opportunities to say something, because yes, it's hard to object against Namjoon. His ideas are wise and makes sense, that's why you always listen to his every word even if he and his stupid voice irritates you so much.

But now, it's a great opportunity to say something, and you raise your hand with a silent cough.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?” Mr. Jung speaks, hiding the look of surprise behind his glasses, as he acknowledges you.

The whole room is silent, surprised that you've decided to speak and since everyone knows about the hatred you feel to each other, it causes a weird tension in the room. Luckily, you've learned your lesson and you're professional. You won't let him interfere with your work and make you seem like a bad guy. It happened a year ago, and you haven't said anything close as explicit as you should've.

“Well, Namjoon wants BADA to be expanded Gwanagku district, which would be a great idea since streets are busy all the time. But,” you speak, eyes glancing at Namjoon who can't stop himself from frowning and you almost smirk at that sight. “Seoul National University is only about ten minutes away from the new building that's on sale.”

“I see, although, I'm not quite sure where you're heading with this.” Mr. Jung speaks, a mere confusion crossing over his wrinkled features.

“It means a lot of students would visit the place after their classes. BADA is known as one high-end bar that holds a specific reputation among Koreans, I think having and expanding the business there would create a different reputation. A lot of young students spend their time drinking with their friends after classes, not only on Fridays but every day. If the bar is going to be packed with students, it's presumable it'll lost it's elegance and seriousness between our permanent customers.” you explain, making sure you've read all your points that you've taken while Namjoon was speaking.

Mr. Jung nods, before he gives Namjoon the space to speak and explain himself. Good, now it's between you and this dickhead.

“I don't think it necessarily has to be a bad decision. It'd mean BADA would always be full of customers. Plus, young students are adults. They're free to drink alcohol, it's not like they're illegal.” he says, staring right back at you with coldness in his eyes.

From the corner of your eyes, you see some of your colleagues nodding along Namjoon's words, agreeing with him. Idiots.

His words or tone isn't necessarily rude, not giving a hint of irritation that's aimed at you, but you can see it. The look in his eyes, the same one he had when he heard you bad-mouthing him in front of Jungkook. But you're quick to react, Namjoon can't catch you off guard.

“They're adults, but look at others bars that are filled with students drinking and being loud, causing a lot of fights. BADA is full with or without student customers and is financially stable enough, actually better than that. The incomes have been raised by ten percent just this month, BADA is doing very good, even best since its inception.”

“I must say, that's interesting point of view, Ms. Y/L/N.” Mr. Jung says, your eyes brightening at his small praise as you smile with gratefulness.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cold facade breaking as you glance at your boss. “I think the reputation and image of BADA is more important than money. Especially when it's doing great on its own, with or without student customers.” you explain yourself, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you try to read his face.

He scratches his chin in thought, before he straightens himself. “I think Ms. Y/L/N might be right. It's important to realize what we're trying to achieve here. The point of expanding BADA isn't money, but it's bringing it to people from that district. The bar has currently three locations, Busan, Daegu and Seoul and I think Namjoon's idea is great. It'd bring a new audience, however, our reputation and image is more important just like Ms. Y/L/N said.” he explains, a triumph feeling bursting in your chest as you can't help but proudly smile.

Jungkook gives you a thumbs up, a very brief one, but you see it and silently giggle at him. To be acknowledged by Mr. Jung and him saying he agrees with you, barely happens. He always praises Namjoon, barely pointing any errors to him, if any. It feels fresh to hear and say him something that's not just a pure agreement and astonishment.

“Our meeting is over. Thank you everyone for being a part of this, I'll see you next Friday. It's your turn, Mr. Jeon, right?” he asks, already standing up as he looks at your friend.

“Yes, sir.” he says him, bowing at him before Mr. Jung nods and leaves the room.

It's silent in the room, everyone scurrying away for their lunch break. Not even Jungkook waits for you, too busy thinking about his turn next week. You know how stressed he has been about it.

As you're packing your own stuff, which only consists of your notepad and pen, you glance at Namjoon who's sporting a frown as he packs his own stuff. You kind of feel bad, seeing displeasure written on his usually soft features, but it's all gone when he looks up and glares at you.

“Good presentation.” you speak, mentally cursing at yourself when it sounds like an attack, rather than a provocative comment. Either way, you're acting like an asshole right now, but thinking about all those times he did the same thing to you, this is nothing compared of what he has done to you.

This is the first time your facts are valid, Mr. Jung himself agreed with you, but this is the first time he's not on Namjoon's side. It should feel triumphal, but rather than to feel that, you don't feel anything. Yes, you're happy Mr. Jung finally acknowledged you and listened to your explanation with interest, but that's all. You thought you'd feel phenomenal once you see the look of displeasure on Namjoon's face, but you feel empty instead.

“Weren't you waiting for this? Listening to me so attentively, so you could do the thing you just did.” he chuckles, but it's dark and accusative, and it makes you feel attacked for some reason.

You've never heard him speaking to you this way, it was always just cold hatred glances. But you won't let him get to you.

“Nah, I just knew you're going to fuck up some day.” you tell him lightly, a little bit of edge and attitude behind your words as you innocently smile at him. You're just being bitch, you know that, but you won't let him affect you.

“You know what? Fuck you.” he spits, closing his laptop with a loud thud as you stare at him dumbfounded before you frown.

Did he just tell you 'fuck you'?

“No, fuck you,” you spit back. “You should put up with the fact that you're not perfect, and you can make mistakes. Or the fact that everyone is so far up your ass, and not everyone has to agree with whatever bullshit you're spitting out.” you bark, gripping your notepad tightly to your chest as you see his frown deepening with each word.

“I've never said I'm perfect, just because you're not capable of doing your job right and I was here cleaning up your mess, doesn't mean I'm perfect. I'm simply doing my job, you should learn to do that.” he barks back, his tone filled with venom as he furiously brushes his long fingers through his blond locks.

“Cleaning up my mess?” you exclaim, on the edge of yelling as you widen your eyes in fury. “Interrupting my presentations isn't cleaning up my mess! It's fucking rude of you to do that every time! At least, I've waited for you to finish. Maybe you should learn to do that, you prick.” you throw your notepad and pen back onto the desk.

“It's not my fault you don't know what fucking help means,” he spits, “You do the same fucking mistake every time and instead of asking for an advice to someone, you're just too confident. You're attacking me for doing a good job while you're fucking up!” he suddenly yells, your mouth falling onto the floor as you walk towards him.

“Oh, so what? Should I go to you and ask for an advice?” you mock him, laughing at that idea.

“You could, I'd help you.” he says simply, catching you off guard before you shake it off and scoff.

“Yeah, of course you would.”

“It's not my fault you're just fucking jealous of my success. Using my education as a reason for my success is just plain dumb.” he says through his clenched teeth, looking at you with so much intensity that it makes you shiver underneath his gaze.

He's talking about that time he overheard your outburst that was only meant for Jungkook's ears. You're sure of it, because you've never brought it up again. It was only that time when you spoke it out loud and he heard it.

“It happened a year ago, and you weren't supposed to hear that.” you mumble, embarrassed by the fact he brought it up.

“It doesn't mean it didn't hurt hearing you saying that.” he scoffs, causing you to open your mouth in shock.

“Stop playing the victim!” you snap, hating how guilty he makes you feel. “You might've wrapped everyone around your finger, but I'm not one of them.”

“I don't have anyone wrapped around my finger. That's just how people treat you when you're a decent human being and not a bitch.” he remarks, causing you to gasp in disbelief.

“Did you just call me--”

“Bitch? Yeah, I did.” he cuts you off, pissing you off even more since he likes to do that.

This fucking motherfucker--

You're launching yourself at him, hands trying to hit his firm chest, but before you can even make a contact with him, he's grabbing your wrists stopping you. You're trashing in his hold, cursing falling out of your mouth as he grunts at you.

“Calm the fuck down, you freak.” he scolds you, shaking with you once you start to kick his leg.

“How dare you to call me--”

He pushes you against the edge of the desk, your ass digging into the glass as you stare into his dark eyes. He's holding you, his fingers securely wrapped around your thin wrists, not too tightly to hurt but enough to stop your attack.

Your chests heaves with each breath you take, the fire in your eyes slowly dying once you calm down. You're reminded by your close proximity, enough to notice how soft his skin looks up this close or the small mole underneath his bottom lip. There's no denying he holds such a charisma, not just in his looks but the way he talks professionally. You envy that and you hate him for that. Even his stupid cologne smells so nice, another great quality you appreciate in men.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he chuckles, smirking at your quiet state but it lasts only for a few seconds, before you're trying to pry your hands off his grip.

“You fucking asshole!” you trash again, hating how close he is.

You need some space, he's distracting you from your fury.

“I'm done with you acting like a bitch.” he spits, his breath hitting your face as he comes near your face.

“What are you going to do about it?” you speak up before you can think it through, mentally cursing from the way it sounded.

You sound desperate, cunning and provocative – enough for him to chuckle when he notices the glint in your eyes.

“Is that a challenge?” he frowns, studying your features to make sure you're hinting at the same thing.

He lets go off your hands, his fingers slowly sliding off as he stares right into your eyes, mirroring the fire in yours. But he doesn't move, about to take a step back when you scoff at him. That's all it takes for him to growl, before he grabs your face and kisses you roughly. You're surprised, your fingers wrapping around his wrists as you hold him. His lips are surprisingly soft, despite of the way he moves them, before he bites onto your lower lip.

“Ow!” you exclaim, voice muffled by his lips as he chuckles.

“That's what you get for that big mouth of yours.” he comments, before he starts kissing you all over again.

It's fast and rough, but you don't move away. You sit on the desk, legs wrapped around his thighs before you pull him closer.

You can't believe you're kissing him, the man that's been irritating you for so many years and become your enemy of your daily life, but you can't stop. So much anger has been built up inside of you and now it bursts again.

“I hate. You.” you tell him between the kisses, making sure to tag his hair which causes him to growl.

“Why are you kissing me then?” he smirks, causing you to roll your eyes.

His fingers trace your leg, making you to give him more space as he raises a brow at you. Before you can react with another roll of your eyes, your fingers fumble with his belt and zip. He does the same, hiking your skirt up before you glance at the clock on the wall. You've got thirty minutes before everyone's back.

Most of your colleagues go out for a lunch, so there's not a high possibility of you getting caught, but there is still some. However, you can't bring yourself to dwell on that simple fact, not when Namjoon's fingers caresses your clothed pussy with a light hum.

You moan, embarrassed how quick of a reaction he got from you. By the smug smirk, he thinks the exact same thing but it's all washed up when you touch him the same way through his black boxer briefs. You pull it down with his help, pulling out his hardened cock and feeling it for the first time. It feels heavy in your hands, the soft velvety skin takes you by surprise as you give him a few testing pumps. He clenches his jaw, biting onto his lower lip as he denies to give you a reaction. His fingers work at the same time, sliding away your lace panties before he starts to play with your clit.

Your head bumps into his shoulder, insides clenching at the simple feeling of his finger that's coated with your wetness. He doesn't comment on it, inserting his finger inside of you in quick movement, causing you to gasp.

“Fuck.” you curse, smearing his pre-cum over his head before you pump him again.

He adds another finger, fucking you with his two long digits with his rings cold against your walls. “Namjoon.” you gasp when he scissors his fingers, slightly penetrating your hole.

“Hmm, not being a bitch now, huh?” he comments, enjoying the way you squirm against him in pure ecstasy, trying to reach your high.

It feels so fucking good, yet it's not enough to make you cum. He knows it, judging by the way you meet his thrusts, desperately pleading for more.

“I-I hate you so much.” you breathe into his neck, inhaling his scent as you squeeze his cock harder to prove your point, but he only chuckles.

“I hate you too,” he says simply, slapping your hand off his cock as he pulls out his fingers out of you.

You watch him wrapping them around his cock, his fingers coated with your arousal as you take the time to admire his cock. It's long, curved in the right direction with red head that pleads for attention. Gulping at the hot sight, you feel yourself clenching around nothing.

With his free hand, he goes under your skirt, hand disappearing underneath the plain white material before he's sliding your panties off. A cold air hits your exposed pussy, a new rush of lust washing over your body as you stare into his dark eyes. He doesn't budge, looking at you with the same intensity. This is the longest time you've ever stared at each other, and it's only now that you realize that he's even hotter and more handsome than you previously thought so. Just thinking about him standing behind desk with firm look on his face and clenched jaw in concentration is making you all hot.

“Now be a good girl and spread those nice legs for me. I'm gonna show you what you're doing to me.” he commands, and embarrassingly, you're quick to follow his order as you expose your wet and swollen pussy for him.

His eyes drop down between your legs, taking a glance at your pussy before you're being pulled to the edge of the desk, standing closer now.

“Show me.” you breathe out, not caring how pathetic you must look and sound right now.

His eyes flicker to yours, his features relaxing before he's frowning again. “Are you taking pills?” he asks, pumping his cock.

You're greedy, you want him inside of you so much that you quickly nod, telling him that indeed, you're taking a birth control. He nods before he doesn't waste a second, guiding himself to your hole before he slowly enters you. The both of you gasp at the feeling, your heels digging into his plump ass as he bottoms out.

He doesn't give you a second to adjust, pulling out before he slams back into you. Your eyes roll at the back of your head, back arching at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls in quick and rough way. He holds your hips, making sure you're not sliding away from him as he fucks into you with so much aggression that makes your breath hitch. Wanting to be closer to him you pull up yourself, hands disappearing under his dark blue button up, before you grab his back for support. The feeling of his naked skin makes you clench around him, causing him to growl for the first time. You messily kiss him, groaning when he bites your lower lip before he moves to your neck. He sucks your skin there while fucking you, his balls meeting your ass with each thrust. The shameless sounds of skin hitting skin fills the conference room.

You should be embarrassed that you're having sex in here, but it drives you crazy and closer to the edge.

The desk starts to shake underneath your body, caused by Namjoon's rigid thrusts as you gasp into his ear, moaning his name over and over again. You're yelping when you feel a sting pain in the crook of your neck from Namjoon's teeth, before he licks his mark.

“Ow! That hurts!” you complain, pain long forgotten when you feel his lips pecking you there.

You've never experienced someone being so rough, yet affectionate during sex and you can't believe it's Namjoon of all people.

“You feel it? That's how you make me feel.” he growls into your ear, before he tears off your blouse, some of the buttons hitting the floor with soft clicks.

He pulls down your bra cup, exposing your perky breast as he dives down, taking your nipple into his mouth. The feeling is incredible, your walls clenching even tighter around his cock. The sting pain comes back when he softly bites your nipple, more careful than he was with your neck before he starts sucking it again.

“Fuck, I hate you.” you spit, hating him for how good he makes you feel.

He pulls away, crashing your lips together and it's the final step for you, taking you over the edge as you cum around him. He fucks you through it, a deep growls leaving his plump lips as he tries to chase his own orgasm.

“Fuck me, Namjoon,” you tell him, ignoring the feeling of oversensitiveness as you scratch his back with your nails. “Fill me up.” you moan when you hear your name leaving his lips.

It takes him a few more thrusts before he's spilling into you, halting his thrusts as he comes off his high. You feel him filling you up, causing you to clench around him at the incredible feeling of being full, and it makes him hiss. He leans his forehead against yours, the sheer coat of sweat decorating your skin as he slowly pulls out. You feel his cum already dripping out of you, but he catches it with his fingers before he's stuffing it back.

Gasping, he silences you with his lips, this time softly meeting yours before he pulls away. To your disappointment, he's taking a step back as you watch him tucking his soft cock back into his slacks, buckling his belt and tucking his crinkled button up into it. He picks up your panties off floor, sliding them up your legs as you sheepishly put them on, material catching his cum right away, dampening it.

Just when you're about to leave and hide yourself for the rest of the day, he turns to you with unreadable eyes before he licks his lips. “Are you up for lunch?” he asks, his tone light a complete opposite from just minutes ago.

It's not just the fact he fucked you, that your heart jumps at his offer, but the realization from his words hits you. You've hurt him and you were both at wrong. You both said some hurtful things to each other, probably things you didn't even mean. He nervously lifts up the corners of his lips, a cute small dimple popping out of his cheek that makes your heart warm and features relax even more.

Either way, you both have tons to say to each other, including an apology.

“Yeah, lunch sounds cool.” you tell him, smiling down at floor, too shy to meet his eyes that are filled with hidden adoration and amusement.

[mrvdocks]

Selcouth

You shouldn’t have come on this stupid trip. Not even if it had opened you up more to him. If anything, you felt this trip had soured the more time had passed. Alex could tell. But you two had to play it safe, play the parts that Karl thought you two assumed from his perspective. You resented that, having to stick to an image that he had formed of you, one that tried to act like you weren’t so in love with him it made your heart ache. 

Or,

You and Alex plan a meet up with Karl for a week trip, only to have your feelings for Karl be put to the test when things don’t pan out how you all planned. (Karl Jacobs/Reader)  

After

“Stop it.” He says, voice serious and no longer joyful or even hinting at friendliness. You’ve heard Karl be serious many times but this time sounded different. This time he sounded like he was scolding a child after being annoyed by them repeatedly. 

“Stop what?” You ask, pretending to be aloof.

“Stop acting like a child!”

“I’m the one acting like a chil - since when was doing something I want, acting like a child?!” 

He makes a hmpf sound. “What is this supposed to be, payback? Is that what you’re playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything here, Karl. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He scoffs. “Oh yeah? So you just suddenly developed an interest in Dream overnight, is that it?” 

“Honestly, why do you care so much? My love life isn’t up for debate here.” 

“Oh and mine was?” He retorts.

You knew he would bring it up, you just knew. It was perfect ammo right now. You stutter to find the right words. 

“What - what do you want from me Karl? I don’t need to explain myself to you. Have you considered that maybe I just finally got tired of being alone? That maybe I just needed someone?” 

Karl tries to not let this dig push him over the line but his frustration and jealousy wouldn’t let him stop seeing green. 

“Is this what you do? You like playing with people's feelings? Do you think screwing my friends is going to help you or is this another one of your phases?”

It feels good in the heat of the moment but he knows he’s messed up as soon as he says it. 

Your mouth drops open. Incredible. In-fucking-credible.  

You laugh bitterly, trying to put up a strong front but your voice betrays you by cracking. “That’s low, Karl. That’s - really fucking low.”

Instantly regretting it, he tries to make amends but can’t put words together properly. His mind reels, heart races, palms suddenly feel sweaty and all he can manage is your name. “(Y/N)......I -”

You can’t bear to hear another false apology spill from his lips. If that’s how he felt, then there was no changing his mind. No matter how badly you wanted to. 

“No you’re right. You’re right. You made your choice and so have I. Goodbye Karl.” You conclude and hang up, throwing your phone across the room. You stare at it until your vision becomes blurry with tears. 

Where do you go from here?

Before

You didn’t think that when you first started streaming that you’d end up at the point you were now. You just wanted to have fun with your friends, maybe meet some new people, share your interests along with the loads of games you found amusing. Interestingly enough, your personality and content seemed to resonate with a lot of people. 

Pretty soon you’d become one of the top streamers on Twitch behind the other big talent that once dominated your dashboard. 

You’d made your way into the big leagues with names like GeorgeNotFound, Dream, Quackity, Nihachu, and even Karl Jacobs. Though you’d met the latter two years ago, you’d become quick friends with Quackity, or Alex(is), having bonded over having similar backgrounds and interests. 

He was more like a brother to you than anything, much to the chagrin of many in the chat. You believe it had to do with growing up in a family with mostly girl siblings. 

Your collabs with Alex garnered lots of views, with people tuning into the streams to watch you two yell at each other chaotically while playing odd games or attempting to bake things. 

Of course, while he did your side of content, that meant you had to hold up your end of the bargain. Minecraft wasn’t your strong suit at first, but as time went on and with some help from both Alex and Karl, you became a little more proficient. 

Karl was no stranger to you, not anymore. Alex had introduced you to Karl a little after he started streaming. You’d only really known him from a couple of Jimmy’s videos. 

He seemed kind, goofy, friendly, and all around a pretty fun guy to be around. Which is why when you started to fall just a little bit for him, you were surprised. You came into this Twitch thing with one rule. Don’t fall for people. 

Things could get messy, it was always a given. The fandoms would tear into you or them, people were unpredictable. It was just better to keep everyone at an arm's length when it came to shipping. 

You were thankful nothing had come to fruition from your friendship with Alex. If anything, all you saw were people shipping you platonically. Though you two would often tease each other if one had a crush on someone. 

Your dynamic with Alex meant that you had countless ridiculous and outrageous moments together, often documenting them when he would visit you in LA from Mexico or you going to Mexico to see family and stopping by to visit him.

It was starting to become a thing you two did a few times a year. This year was no different. Even when the pandemic seemed to sour your plans, you both promised to stay safe and healthy and limit the trips. So far, this was going to be the first trip you two would be taking anywhere. 

Your phone buzzed next to you as you scrolled mindlessly through your discord server. You laughed a bit here and there, looking at memes and chatting with people. 

Alex’s text ringtone was him rage quitting during a game where you absolutely obliterated his ass. You either cracked up at the sound of it or jumped in sudden fear when it bounced off the walls of your apartment in the middle of the night. 

A: Hey wiener, are you packed?? I know you take like three business days to get ready. 

You rolled your eyes. He was supposed to be coming to visit you first before you both made the flight out to see Karl in North Carolina. 

Y: Me??? I’ve been packed since last week. I thought you were supposed to be on the flight here already 🙄

A: I may or may not…...already be out. 💀

Your eyes widen. You abandon the chat and hit the FaceTime button. He lets it ring for a good five seconds before he accepts it and greets you with a close up of his face.

“What am I looking at?” You ask, feigning disgust. 

“My beautiful face, what else?” 

“Really? I thought it was a dog’s asshole.” You chuckle. 

He guffaws. “Fuck off! First I get stranded here in LA, then I get some shitty chicken nuggets and now you’re calling me butt ugly! Why does life hate me so much?!”

“Menso! You were supposed to call me when you - wait did you say chicken nuggets?”

“Yeah, I still have the rest but I can’t finish because every time I chew I think of the pink slime.”

“Ugh don’t talk about Supersize Me, I’m still having nightmares about it. Who shows that to little kids??” 

“Yeah well it’s shit, Burger King’s better.” He admits, munching down on the nuggets. He chews obnoxiously near the phone speaker to annoy you so you tap at the screen in retaliation. 

“Hey, I was supposed to record you trying out American McDonald’s! Why are you taking sweet sweet content away from me? Now no one gets to see you lose your McVirginity!”

He sputters through a mouthful of nuggets and does a combination of coughing and laughing. 

“Anyways,” he says, finally nugget free. “You coming or not? I don’t think I wanna sleep on the airport floor.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming. I’ll text you when I’m outside.” 

The airport was a forty five minute drive, thirty if you stepped on it and committed several traffic violations. 

Maybe that would make good content. 

You grabbed your keys and rushed out of your home, fully prepared to go fast and furious. You put your windows down, connected your phone to the aux and blasted Tokyo Drift as you merged into the freeway. 

Half an hour later, you’d arrived at a packed airport pick up area and texted Alex to let him know you’d arrived. He replied that he was starting to feel the effect of the chicken nuggets but that he would push through people to get out of the building before he caught anything from anyone.

Once you could make out his figure up ahead in front of the other cars, you got the bright idea to switch your music to something more interesting. You pulled up one of his videos where he was fully invested in a rendition of Hey There Delilah and honked excessively once you got closer to him. He looked around and pulled his beanie down lower to hide his face in embarrassment. 

You and the prerecorded Quackity sang in off key unison with the volume up as much as you could before he threw his luggage and bags into your backseat, hopped into the passenger seat and put the volume down.

“Never do that again.” 

“Hey, that was your welcome salute. I don’t do that for other people, you’re special and I like it.”

“Could you try liking me a little less? I could do without all the cringe covers.” He laughed to himself as he buckled up. 

The ride home consisted of a mix of very poor and impressive impressions of characters that would’ve annoyed nearly anyone else except you. Alex alternated from a gruff impression of Squidward to a raunchy Mickey Mouse that left you doubling over and gripping the steering wheel. You competed with him, doing your worst impression of Cookie Monster and Goofy. 

Your impression competition was interrupted by a phone call, Karl’s photo flashing flipped a panic switch in you as you scrambled to grab your phone. Alex takes your phone and extends his arm far from your reach. 

“Ah, ah, ah! No texting and driving! You want to kill us or something?!”

“I need to answer! What if he thinks I’m ignoring him?”

“I got it, I got it.” He assures, sliding the bar to unlock the phone and meet Karl face to face.

Karl makes a surprised sound, greeting Alex almost immediately. 

“Hey bub!” You chime in, keeping your eyes on the road but getting a glimpse of Karl in his frog outfit. 

“Hi! Sorry, I didn’t know you were driving.”

“No it’s okay! I’m just coming back from picking up this idiot.” 

“Who you calling idiot, dumbass?” Alex suddenly burst into his Mickey Mouse voice from earlier, ending it with the iconic Mickey laugh. 

Karl seemed to eat it up, breaking into laughter. It was infectious enough to make you chuckle. 

“You guys excited for the trip? It’s looking really pretty here this time of year. I can’t wait to show you around.”

“You mean show us your sweater collection?” Alex jabs.

You nudge him roughly to the side as a warning, glaring at him when he glances at you. 

You’d hoped that the change of scenery would do you some good. LA was an endless heap of  heat that you never could seem to escape. Not even with air conditioning. It was October already, which normally would mean Fall, orange leaves, pumpkins everywhere, a complete shift in temperature, right? Nope. 

It was the devil’s asshole all year round, something Alex could attest to. 

“Don’t mind him, I think he was dropped as a kid.”

“How dare you! There is nothing wrong with me, I’m perfect.”

“Ha! Sure. As if you don’t have a lot of things wrong with you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

You tap at the time on your screen, “We don’t have enough time to get into it.”

You turn your attention back to Karl, very attentive to your bickering, small chuckles here and there. It wasn’t until he made eye contact with you that you felt your hands falter on the wheel. You were lucky enough that it didn’t make you stray away from the road. 

“Um - you know what? We’ll call you later, we’re almost home anyways.” 

“Okay! Be safe! Goodnight. ” Karl bids you both goodbye and poses his phone in front of him in order to hug it from afar, as if to hug both you and Alex. 

You groan to yourself, pretending to bang your head against the steering wheel as soon as you pull up to your complex. Alex laughs at your misery. 

“Oh man, you really are down BAD.”

“Shut up! I regret telling you things sometimes.” 

“No one said you had to! I guess I just have one of those faces.” He Chad swipes at his chin and squints at you.

“Yeah, punch able.” You remark with a quirk of your brow, slipping out of the car and heading to your front door. 

Alex follows, grabbing his things in a hurry before you can get the chance to lock him out and leave him to sleep with the coyotes. 

“Don’t leave me out here! I’m too delicious to die!” He cries.

You’re awoken by the feeling of warm sunlight on the left side of your face. You hesitate to move, feeling tired already even though you’re sure you slept longer than you should’ve. 

You prop yourself up by your elbows, shielding your face from the sun with your hand. You get out of bed groggily, staring at the floor for a second before making your way to the living room and finding Alex sleeping in a weird position. 

Amused, you rush back into your room and grab your phone to document this moment and post it on Twitter. However when you return, he’s gone. You lean over the couch to check if he’s hiding behind it but he’s nowhere to be found. 

You’re about to crouch to check for his feet or any sign of him when you feel fingers dig in your sides. You yelp in fear and surprise, smacking your attacker until he starts to yell in a shrill voice. 

Alex pushes you over the couch making you fall on your ass. 

“WHAT THE HELL?!” You scream. 

“That’s what you get for trying to take pictures of me!”

You try to stand, rubbing at your sore ass. “Ugh, what are you, a cryptid or something? The people have a right to see!”

“No one gets to see me in the morning! No one! I need my beauty sleep more than you.”

He extends a helping hand for you to take in a moment of truce but you take advantage and pull him down with you to land on his back. He groans when he hits the ground and curses at you in Spanish. 

“Play time’s over, we gotta get ready. The plane leaves in…..one hour????!” 

Your phone says it’s only nine in the morning but you hazily remember the tickets reading ten thirty. 

“No way! I have to take a shower, I have to order food….” He begins, counting on his fingers the various things he suddenly had to do but you stop him by running into your room and getting your bags. 

“No time! Brush your teeth, get dressed, I’ll buy us something at the airport.”

“NOOOO! Airport food is disgusting! Can’t we stop somewhere?” 

“Like I said, no time! We gotta be out of here in thirty minutes.”

He grumbles under his breath. 

“I heard that!” You yell behind you, grabbing a towel and turning on your shower. 

After Alex rummaged through your kitchen, stuffed himself with some snacks and an alarming amount of frozen food, you urged him to shower in the little time span you had left and ordered a ride to take you to the airport. 

You had to basically pull him away from putting on his finishing touches with his beanie, with him complaining that his hair wouldn’t settle under it the way he wanted. You rolled your eyes and shoved him and your stuff into the Uber and kissed California goodbye. 

You two started planning what you’d do in NC as soon as you landed, besides getting food. You could practically hear Alex’s stomach grumbling the whole drive to the airport and even after the Uber gave him some snacks.

There was a sense of urgency that made your stomach twist in knots until you’d arrived at the drop off section. You stuck your tickets in your pocket as you hurried Alex, dragging him and urging him to run faster than he’d ever imagined to catch the plane. 

With only minutes to spare, you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you panted and tried to regain it once you were at the gate. Alex makes a joke about you being out of breath to the pretty attendant that you make a note of later, just in case he tried to flirt with her. 

Alex followed the attendant like a puppy while you popped your phone out from your pocket and snapped a photo of the plane. You debated sending it to Karl, not sure if wanting your boarding to be a surprise or not. You relented to posting it on Twitter and sending it to Karl. 

Big things coming ;) You tweeted, exiting out of the app as quickly as you’d posted it, knowing you’d be flooded with notifications. 

You switched over to message, sending it to Karl but unsure if he would be awake right now. Maybe it would make his day better. 

On our way! See you soon! :)) 

You ran to catch up with Alex, finding him still talking to the attendant. In the most bitchy voice you could muster, you hugged him from the side and nestled your head into his shoulder. 

“I’m so happy we’re going on vacation babe, thank you!” 

His face fell, the attendant suddenly losing interest and suggesting the two of you find your seats. You intertwine your hands with his and hold it up, making a joke about how you two were inseparable. 

He suppresses the urge to fight you and instead screams internally, whisper yelling to you as you both sit. “You couldn’t let me be a Chad once? Just once!” 

“That’s what you get for slamming me on my ass earlier.”

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 24

Bio dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Oh dear, oh dear Lila what a shame this is

First< Previous > Next

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The next couple of days are... awkward. Dick keeps calling which is nice, they even go for dinner one day dragging Tim along. Tim seems fine, tired but that's hardly unusual. Jason had just straight up disappeared, but Dick had assured them he would be coming to the Wayne Gala that weekend. Speaking of which they had been invited, well they were already going because of MDC stuff but now they were also invited as civilians. The news would have been happy if Damian hadn't stormed out the room when it was mentioned. The next day and the day after that hadn’t improved anything, Damian was completely ignoring them and they weren't the only ones to notice.

“What did you do to upset Dami so much?!” Lila announces rather loudly to the entire cafeteria, “I told you, you were going too far,”

“Lila, and I mean this sincerely, fuck off,” Marion says flatly, he hears Marinette cover a laugh despite swatting at him lightly.

“How dare you?! I’m just trying to look out for him,” Lila sniffles, basking under the attention of her large audience, looking between the girl and Damian. Marion catches Damian's eye, raising a brow basically saying you’re going to let this slide? Apparently he was as Damian looks away from them, and if anything was going to give Lila more believability it’s that.

“Marion are you alright?” Rose asks gently, having tiptoed after Lila with the rest of the class. Had he been looking so downcast she actually noticed?

“I’m fi-” Whatever assurance he was about to give is mute as he feels tears sliding down his cheeks, “Fuck-I just-”

He tries to wipe away the tears, very aware of everyone watching him. It��s starting to get hard to breath when he feels gentle arms wrap around him. It’s Rose. Rose is actually hugging him! It’s been so long he forgot what her hugs felt like. Well if she was trying to stop him from crying that certainly didn’t help matters. He tries to take a calming breath but it comes out more like a sob and soon enough he can’t hold it back anymore. A fine place to break down Mari, really, truly a testament to your skill.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this here,” Lila scoffs, Marion can feel the arms around him tighten, “After all the work I put in for this trip-”

“LILA WOULD YOU JUST STOP!” Alya’s scream makes them all jump back, Marion turning to face the absolutely seething girl, “This is the first time in YEARS we’ve been allowed to feel emotions! So just leave it alone, they’re allowed to be sad!”

“Well-I-its-they-” Lila splutters looking completely blindsided that one of her puppets broke off its strings, clearly she hasn't been paying attention the last few weeks, funny when you save someone's life they tend to listen and care about what you say a bit more. And if that leads to noticing a few more jibes in their direction... well that's just a happy coincidence.

“What is your problem!? You’ve been nothing but nasty to them since we got here!” Well a bit longer than that but good on you for noticing Alya.

“Oh, it’s just been so hard for me!” Lila exclaims, crocodile tears coming in as Marion still tries to wipe off his own, the genuine article at that, “If you had heard some of the things they’ve said to me-”

Lila jumps as Damian appears next to her. He doesn't look at or acknowledge the twins. In fact, he still looks rather pissed but at least some of its directed at Lila this time. He silently hands his phone over to Alya with some hesitation, Lila's eyes go wide. As quickly as he had come he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd that had formed around them.

“What’s-”

“Give it!” Lila screeches, lunging for the phone. Alya jerks back in surprise, Lila’s nails tearing down her arm. Ugly red marks that had broken the skin and gone in deep.

“What the hell!” Alya shouts through tears, clutching her bloody arm as the class crowd around her.

Instead of apologizing Lila tries to snatch the phone in the moment of distraction, but Alix is a hair quicker. She presses play despite Lila shouting threats that made the rest of the class go pale. The recording plays everyone is glued to it. The class becoming increasingly more hysterical. Marinette doesn't wait for it to finish, she gently guides Marion out of the room slipping through the crowd. They hide in an empty classroom, far enough away they can’t hear the outcry that follows.

“Do you think that’s really it, it’s done?” Marion whispers, Marinette is wiping his face with a handkerchief he had always made fun of her for carrying.

“Maybe, I honestly can’t bring myself to care anymore,” Marinette rests her forehead against his, her standing as he sits on a desk, “I thought I’d feel more…”

“Victorious?”

“Yeah,”

“I don’t think there are any winners here,” He can hear someone shouting their names down the hall, voice wobbly with tears, he doesn't care about any apology the can muster, “How lame did I look crying?”

“In front of the whole school like that?”

“Yeah,”

“I’d say it was pretty brave,” She pulls him into a hug, squeezing tight.

“He was just ignoring us,” Marion admits quietly, Lila hadn’t made him cry in a long time, but Damian? Damian did.

“I know,” Marinette pats his head, the same way she would tease him as Chat Noir, “But he did something in the end didn’t he?”

“Oh, gee look at this lame-ass, better make him stop before people associate him with me’,” Marion does an impression not remotely close to Damian, Marinette pinches him.

“That’s not what he was thinking and you know it,”

“Yeah,” Marion sighs, he can hear doors opening and closing now, apologies cast out through the school in hopes they’ll hear them, “What do we do now?”

“Jump out the window?”

So they did end up jumping out the window. Something Alfred had somehow known they were planning because he was waiting right there to pick them up. The debated on actually going to the manor, but their phones were lighting up with messages and the hotel was not an option. The Manor was silent when they arrived. And it remained silent for most of their stay.

Dick had apparently set himself a mission of making them feel at home, whatever that meant, and was nowhere to be seen. He seemed like the only one actually happy to have them join the ragtag family so without him it was likely the others were just avoiding them. That was fine, really, Alfred set them up with a movie and ice cream that they used to ignore everything else.

Dick was their saving grace and the bane of their existence. When he came back he had apparently made the decision they would be staying at the manor for the rest of the trip, despite it only meant to be a few more days(it wasn't for them but he didn’t know that yet). Alfred had apparently told him what happened and he had brought it upon himself to bring their friends, actual friends not classmates to the manor. This was a blessing and a curse as all they seemed to want to do was fill them in on what had happened.

They listened and ate ice cream together. And yeah Marion kind of wished he could have seen Lila as every lie was torn down but Chloe rejoiced in relaying her reactions with great detail. She had of course tried to lie and turn it all on the twins, them trying to frame her. However, with blood running down Alya's arm that warranted a trip to the hospital it was met with a cold shoulder. Their talk eventually morphed into laughing at all her outlandish lies, which Chloe gladly compiled into a list to share with the rest of the class, ranking them in order of their stupidity. She planned to go through the whole list on the plane ride back where there would be no escape for anyone. It was fun in a way, and if Marion noticed more than one pair of eyes spying in on the conversation he wasn’t going to point it out. Lila was yet to face her dues.

When their friends had to go back to the hotel they promised not to give anything away. Alfred gratefully let them skip over dinner and Dick was overjoyed to show them to their rooms. Marion kind of wanted to laugh when he was shown his, wondering how much of it was Dick, how much was Bruce, and what was Alfred.

There were cat plushies everywhere which he had to guess was Bruce latching onto the detail from the fair and indeed Dough boy is sitting front and center on his bed. Then again wherever he was over he did spend a lot of time with Catfred. It could also be Dick taking note of that because really everything has cats on it. There's blankets, pillows, a rug with kittens over it. There was an armchair shaped like a cat head, and where had they even found that? It only got worse the further he went into the room noticing that the curtains had been replaced to have cats on them and there were pictures of cats hanging on the wall, the lamps in the room even cast shadows of cats. The only thing he could find that wasn't cat-related was a picture of them with Bruce at the fair, each sporting a plushie with Bruce holding a cutesy Batman plush between the grinning twins.

“Nette my defining trait isn’t cats is it?” He walks into her room through the joining door he was willing to bet didn’t exist a week ago. His side, of course, had a cat painted on it, he closes it just so he has less exposure to all the cats.

“Course not,” Marinette grins from her sewing machine.

She had a more, let's say subdued room. Oh sure Bruce had apparently found her all the Ladybug plushies he could but they apparently didn't have the same abundance as cats. Instead, he seemed to have focused on her sewing kit. Mannequins littered about her room that Marinette had already started pinning fabric to. Half of her walk-in closet was dedicated to spools of fabric, the other stocked with clothes. Marion didn’t dare brave his own knowing he would find only cats .

“Did you notice the dollhouse?” Marinette asks as Marion flops onto her bed, at least you could actually see her bed and it wasn't hidden by a pile of cats.

“Yeah mine was stocked with camembert and sugar cubes,” and it had personalized rooms for both Kaalki and Plagg that they were happily exploring.

“Mine cookies,” Marinette hums, more concerned with her design than the topic at hand, “Think we got found out,”

“Probably, whoever it is hasn't said anything tho,” Marion looks over at the large dollhouse in Marinette's room, Tikki waved at him from a window and he waved back.

“Probably Alfred,”

“Probably, that mans a witch,”

“A Witch?”

“I know what I said,” Marion sighs, sealing himself to go back into the cat infestation. How do you politely say ‘thank you so much but what the fuck?’

He knew he had to brave the closet sometime as someone had been so kind as to put away his clothes. Sure enough, it was as bad as he had imagined. Everything from t-shirts with cartoon cats to clothes carefully crafted to have cat ears. I was actually kind of amazing at this point. Giving up his conquest to find his actual pj’s he buttons up a two-piece that is, naturally, covered with cats.

On his way out he notices a bit of black at the very front of the closet not fitting in with the color-coded organization. He pulls it out to find a gorgeous leather jacket that was completely devoid of cats! Huzzah! There was a note hanging from the sleeve which Marion unfolded.

Knew Bruce and Dick would be idiots so I got you something actually decent

I saw the room and yeah it's a fucken mess

If you ever need it gone or I don’t know accidentally set on fire give me a call

Marion chuckles knowing it could be no one else but Jason he tucks the note into the jacket, pulling it on to find a perfect fit. He keeps it on as a shield, something solidly not-cat is comforting at this point. He pushes the piles of cat toys onto the floor and seriously he was going to have to have a talk with Bruce about moderation and interior decorating. He lies down looking up at the ceiling, then immediately getting up and storming into Nette’s room. He was not going to sleep under a mural of cats! Nope not tonight! Not ever!

Marinette doesn't even look up from where she’s hunched over her desk as he flops onto her bed. Can someone be over the moon to be surrounded by ladybugs? Yes provided they have had an overexposure to cats first.

“I know we don’t want to go to school tomorrow but I can not stand a second more in that room,”

“Schools over Mari, it’s the concert tomorrow remember?”

“Goddammit,”

“Jasons having a bad influence on you,”

“Can’t we have just one day of rest?”

“No, now go to sleep,”

“You first,” Marion shoots, back despite curling up under the blankets.

“If you want to wear that jacket tomorrow you better take it off before it gets ruined,”

“I can wear it for the concert?” He shoots back up, excited but takes her advice anyway.

“ No I did not spend weeks designing a new jacket for you to wear that,” Besides it doesn't even have bats on the back,”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Marion yawns, sinking back into the bed, and wow it’s really soft, “What if we changed them to Robins?”

“... you really don’t want me to sleep tonight do you?”

“Means I get the whole bed to myself, a master plan if I do say so myself,” Marion doesn't even stir as the pillow hits him square in the face.

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

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd @trippingovermyfeet

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

Chopped: Holiday Trope Exchange 2020 Masterlist!

A huge thanks to every person who signed up for our fic exchange, we got 21 really wonderful fics! We’re sorry it took us so long to get this out to you all! For anyone who isn’t sure what this was all about, this was a double blind gift exchange where each of our twenty-one (21!!!) writers were assigned four tropes from an anonymous recipient, and were tasked with writing a fic that fit our holiday theme, and included all the tropes. The only guidance from their recipient were a couple of brief notes they included during the sign up, and both the writer and recipient were revealed when we shared all the fics! A big thanks to the Tropesters who stepped up to write a second fic when we needed them! These fics, as with all our TROPED fics, were creative and unique, and found ways to utilise tropes that may seem so simple but were transformed in really spectacular ways! Please enjoy these wonderful holiday fics!

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roots in my dreamland (my house of stone, your ivy grows) (Rated M) [Bellarke]

Written by @captaindaddykru for @thelittlefanpire. The four assigned tropes were 1) Doppelgängers, 2) one character is a dancer, 3) first snow, and 4) kissing to keep a cover/a secret.

Summary: Clarke really wants it to work out with Bellamy, but as an A-list Hollywood actress there’s a lot of contractual obligations she can hide behind instead of confronting her own insecurities and past mistakes. Luckily, this Christmas she’s lucked out, and her stand-in Josie is more than willing to (completely selflessly of course) take her place.

Now comes the hard part.

brighter than moonbeams (Rated T) [Memori]

Written by @the-most-beautiful-broom for @thedefinitionofendgame. The four assigned tropes were 1) The characters play a game,2) Secret Santa, 3) Exes to Lovers, and 4) Surprise kiss.

Summary: Murphy and Emori fall in love fast, and then talk themselves out of it. Years later, their paths will cross again, and they realize that their might be parts of their story that are yet to be written.

What a way to start the year (Rated T) [Bellarke]

Written by @bellarkeshoe for @bellamysgriffin. The four assigned tropes were 1) Law enforcement partners, 2) Character gets BADLY injured and they hide it somehow only to reveal later that they are mortally wounded, 3) Characters hugging after they’ve been through hell, and 4) Kissing in the snow.

Summary: It’s New Years Eve, and Bellamy and Clarke got stuck working.

It’s Alright, It’s Okay (Rated M) [Clurphy]

Written by @sailawaymayday for @wwjacksparrowd. The four assigned tropes were 1) Found Family, 2) Groundhog Day/timeloop, 3) Character gets shot/stabbed/BADLY injured and hides the wound somehow, only to accidentally (someone else touches them and their bleeding, they collapse, etc.) reveal later that they are mortally wounded, and 4) Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: Clarke makes it onto the Ring with the rest of Spacekru. What happens when New Years Eve keeps repeating itself? And what does Murphy have to do with it?

Dancing in Graveyards: An Arkadia Anthology (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Written by @justbecauseyoubelievesomething for @kinetic-elaboration. The four assigned tropes were 1) Small town gothic, 2) Christmas Lights, 3) First snow, and 4) Sneaking someone in/out of your window.

Summary: Three small town gothic stories intertwine as old friends reunite and try to make the best out of their lives. Raven returns home after her foster father’s death and is pulled like a magnet to her enigmatic highschool sweetheart. Jasper seeks solace from a tragedy and desperately attempts to outrun the ghosts of the past. Bellamy battles his inner demons and prays not to tear himself and his loved ones apart in the process. And all of them come to realize that they belong together, even if the place they call home is shadowed by sorrow.

do or die, you’ll never make me (because the world will never take my heart) (Rated T) [Bellarke]

Written by @shen-gong-oops for @probably-voldemort. The four assigned tropes were 1) Fake dating, 2) Amnesia AU, 3) Enemies to Friends to Lovers, and 4) Superhero AU.

Summary: As the youngest member of the Guard and the daughter of the Guard former leader, there are high expectations set for Clarke. The Marketing and PR teams at Ark expecting her to be prim and proper during any conferences, while simultaneously performing their well-rehearsed fight choreography to a T.

But when four unknown supes challenge the juggernaut that is Ark Industries, Clarke wonders if herodom isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Merry Christmas, Lovebirds (Rated G) [Murven]

Written by @kinetic-elaboration for @shen-gong-oops. The four assigned tropes were 1) One character cautiously says “i’m going to kiss you now, okay?” or some variation of that, 2) Mutual pining, 3) A misunderstanding, and 4) Tattoos.

Summary: There’s never snow for Christmas on the beach, Murphy is a culinary genius, Raven has a boyfriend, and other presumed facts, too obvious to mention.

Once Upon Our Story (Rated G) [Bellarke]

Written by @andthelightbulbclicks for @bellamythology. The four assigned tropes were 1) break-up/make-up, 2) Did they or didn’t they, 3) Extremely biased flashbacks of the same event, and 4) Bookstore or library AU.

Summary: Bellamy returns with as much fanfare as one can imagine when driving a school bus decorated as Santa Claus through town, leaving Clarke shocked and all of their friends confused given he hasn’t been home in months.

(Or: Six months ago, Bellamy left Arkadia.

Six months ago, Clarke didn’t.

Six months ago, their friends knew the relationship ended, even came up with their own versions of what really happened. But the question that they all want to know for certain– is why?)

Dream A Little Dream of Me (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @queenemori for @vmreed. The four assigned tropes were 1) One character has a child, 2) Protectiveness, 3) Only one bed, and 4) Soulmates.

Summary: It was just Murphy’s luck that right as he was starting to enjoy Earth, he had to leave. But he’d rather that than succumb to a fiery death wave. He and the other residents of the Ring remembered Clarke every year during their New Year’s Eve celebration. But even when they weren’t celebrating Clarke, Murphy couldn’t seem to get her off his mind. He wished his brain would stop playing tricks on him by making him think she was alive. Clarke was dead. Wasn’t she?

i don’t wanna burn out, so wont you please set me on fire again? (Rated M) [Murven]

Written by @kuklash for @sparklyfairymira. The four assigned tropes were 1) Protectiveness, 2) Exes and Lovers, 3) Small Town AU, and 4) Characters fall on each other and have a moment.

Summary: The wind nipped at Murphy’s nose as he stood in the doorway of the gas station on the edge of town. Work was slow, as it always was after sundown, especially in the mid-December cold, but someone had to make sure the good townsfolk of Arkadia could get their milk and gas after the small general store closed. All 800 of them. He watched the cars drive by throughout the day, recognizing each and everyone of them. Bellamy’s beat up truck he worked all highschool to afford, Clarke’s clean new sedan, even that jerk Finn’s loud ass motorcycle. He watched them all pass one by one, his old classmates returning home after another semester of college at the University of Polis. The only sign that time was passing at all.

The phone inside rang, breaking him out of his melancholy, at least for now.

“Great,” he thought, sarcastically. “A phone call 10 minutes before we close.”

He walked back inside and put on the most cheerful customer service voice he could muster.

“Dropship Gas, this is Murphy. How can I he-”

A familiar female voice cut him off, leaving him cold.

“Murphy? Thank god!”

It was his ex.

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you (Rated M) [Bellarke]

Written by @sparklyfairymira for @captaindaddykru. The four assigned tropes were 1) Celebrity AU, 2) Meet Ugly, 3) Characters must share something, and 4) Characters aren’t together but are mistaken to be.

Summary: Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin are household names thanks to their music. They belong to the same label so they often work together on duets—even though they can’t stand one another. Their first meeting is disastrous and six years later they still can’t get along.

toward brighter days (Rated T) [Sea Mechanic]

Written by @reggieshamster for @/ashplana. The four assigned tropes were 1) Apocalyptic Log, 2) bed sharing, 3) road trip au, and 4) mythical creatures.

Summary: Dear Harper,

I am ridiculously out of it this morning. Last night, when we reached the campsite, Luna suggested we give Echo her own bedroll, since she gave hers up the night before.

Which meant Luna was sleeping with me.

Beside me.

Excerpts from Raven’s journal as she travels to Polis for the Winter Solstice Festival

three words, two hearts, one maybe (Rated G) [Bellarke]

Written by @bellamysgriffin for @bellarkeshoe. The four assigned tropes were 1) Youtuber AU, 2) best friend’s sibling, 3) frikdreina, and 4) miscommunication.

Summary: After an accident blinds Clarke, Octavia’s been encouraging her best friend to keep up with her artwork. In order to inspire her, she recruits the help of her older brother, Bellamy, who’s recently launched a new exhibition at his museum, to feature her work. Bellamy likes Clarke’s work, and he’s more than happy to help. But when she doesn’t show on the big day, he takes matters into his own hands. With an old video camera, he records people’s reactions to Clarke’s artwork so that she’ll know just how talented she is. But when he sends it to his sister, he doesn’t expect her to upload it to YouTube. And he definitely doesn’t expect to go viral.

Something Beautiful, Simple, and Bright (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @wwjacksparrowd for @queenemori. The four assigned tropes were 1) Friends with Benefits AU, 2) Prank war, 3) characters are not together but are mistaken for a couple, and 4) Based on a Song.

Summary: Six months after Wonkru and Eligius manage to establish peace and divide Eden between themselves (with a little slice shaved off for Spacekru, of course), Clarke has a mission: plan a New Year’s Eve party for fifteen hundred people within three weeks.

Murphy’s mission? Stop her from burning out in the process. Oh, and if he could just get Monty to quit it with the freaking noisemakers, that would be great, too.

(…Okay, yeah, he’d also like to date Clarke for real instead of just sleeping with her. But that’s a pipe dream, right?)

put your faith in the devil and the deep blue sea (Rated M) [Clurphy]

Written by @probably-voldemort for @kuklash. The four assigned tropes were 1) Time Loop AU, 2) Characters fall on top of one another and have a “moment”, 3) Enemies to Lovers, and 4) Superhero AU.

Summary: Twenty years ago, when the clocks changed from 11:59pm on December 31st, 1999, to 12:00am on January 1st, 2000, the world ended, exactly as the doomsdayers had predicted. Now, there are only a few livable months left on Earth, and the privileged are evacuating for a life in space, abandoning the planet.

But not everyone has given up.

Clarke was only three when the world ended, and she’s spent most of her life in her mother’s lab. Now, as the last space ships are preparing to leave, her mother’s machine is finally ready, and Clarke and her mother are heading back in time to try to stop the apocalypse from happening in the first place.

An attack on the lab leads to Clarke heading back to 1995 on her own, and the past isn’t quite how Clarke’s vague memories from the beginning of her life paint it. Clarke soon discovers that not only did the machine do more than just send her back in time, but she wasn’t, in fact, sent back alone.

Will she be able to stop the apocalypse before the clock strikes midnight? Or are some parts of history unchangeable?

All I Want For Christmas (Rated T) [Memori]

Written by @thedefinitionofendgame for @the-most-beautiful-broom. The four assigned tropes were 1) Fake dating, 2) Joke kiss turned real kiss, 3) One character is sleeping and the other character is watching them totally in love, and 4) Blanket fort.

Summary: Tired of being single, Murphy decides to take matters into his own hands and get himself a girlfriend before the annual Christmas Day dinner with his friends. Having had bad luck in the past with girls - all twenty four of them - Murphy is determined to make the twenty-fifth, the “Christmas Day” number, his forever.

Of course, this is easier said than done. When his fellow coworker, Emori, seems to be having similar problems and suggests them being each other’s “fake dates” to their Christmas parties in December, Murphy jumps at the chance. Fake dating is better than being totally alone, right? It appears that way, at least until Murphy starts to catch feelings; the ones that make you question everything you think you know. As their “fake feelings” start to become more real, Murphy realizes that Emori’s the one he wants for Christmas. But she’s got walls up and even though his heart doesn’t stand a chance, Murphy’s determined to break them down and show her what falling in love really means, maybe with the help of a little December magic thrown in.

As long as we’re together, no I can’t get much higher (Rated T) [Murven]

Written by @dylanobrienisbatman for @andthelightbulbclicks. The four assigned tropes were 1) Zookeeper AU, 2) Treasure Hunt, 3) secret places, and 4) Secret Santa.

Summary: Murphy has only known Raven for a little while, but the longer he spends getting to know her, the more he realises that there’s no hope of him not falling in love with her.

So when he gets her for Secret Santa, he makes it his mission to nail it.

before i knew you (Rated G) [Clexa]

Written by @dylanobrienisbatman for @sailawaymayday. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Pen Pals, (2) 3+1, 4+1, 5+1, etc., (3) surprise kiss, and (4) character meets another characters ex.

Summary: What do you do when your penpal, the person you know the best in the world, who you love, turns out to be the rather rude (if also rather pretty) sales girl from downstairs? Lexa is about to find out. or - 3 times lexa and clarke meet without knowing they’ve been penpals since childhood, and the 1 time Lexa figures it out.

when life gives you shit, you make kool-aid (Rated M) [Becho]

Written by @reggieshamster for @dylanobrienisbatman. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Bodyguard AU, (2) Bed Sharing, (3) Kissing to Keep Cover/a Secret, and (4) a Character gets shot/stabbed/badly injured and they collapse, being caught by their loved one.

Summary: Bellamy used to have it all, and then one screw-up cost him his career and his fancy life. Now, working as a bodyguard for alcoholic businessmen and their families, he gets a call from his sister for a job… escorting a hitwoman to testify against a man convicted of crimes against humanity. What could possibly go wrong?

and left the secret at the grave (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @probably-voldemort for @justbecauseyoubelievesomething. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Murder Mystery, (2) Partners in Crime, (3) Exes to Lovers, and (4) Snowed In.

Summary: At 8:57 on the morning of December 23rd, eight year old Jordan Green discovered the body of Skybox Inn owner Vera Kane on the floor of the lobby. His screams woke up the other guests of the inn, as well as the live-in butler.

The discovery of the body was followed shortly by two more discoveries. The first was that the storm the night before had knocked out the phones and the internet, and the second was that the inn was completely snowed in with no hopes of escape anytime soon.

Thirteen people trapped in an inn.

Uncountable secrets.

One murderer.

One question.

Who killed Vera Kane?

what a tangled string of Christmas lights we weave (Rated T) [Linctavia]

Written by @thelittlefanpire for @reggieshamster. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Royalty AU, (2) Cyrano AU, (3) Characters fall and end up landing on top of each other and have a “moment”, and (4) Hair brushing and/or braiding.

Summary: When the royal family loses their beloved Prince Wells, the future king of Arkadia, all eyes are on them. The Queen remains as stoic as ever, the Spare grapples with his new responsibilities, the Princess drowns in her grief, and the King is threatening to abolish the monarchy forever.

At Christmastime, as tensions in the palace rise with the vicious tabloids outside, the royal family makes an escape to a castle in the mountains, hoping to find solace and reconcile with their loss.

Princess Octavia will try to mend her broken heart back together as she becomes entranced with the letters sent back and forth between herself and another. But when it’s revealed who the true penman is, will she rise above her sorrow or sink further into it?

—————————————————————————

Take a read! Leave a kudos/comment! Our Tropesters worked so hard on creating some unique, festive fun fics from all the amazing tropes that were sent in. Thanks again!

[pinknerdpanda]

Muddle Through Somehow

Word Count: 1,643 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Angst, Fluff, 2020 (even though I don’t say it specifically...you’ll see) Beta’d by: @princessmisery666 - I’d be lost without you. xoxo

A/N: Written For @arrowsandmixtapes for my Merry Manda’s Christmas “Drabbles”. I was so excited when I saw your request, Kansas. This is my favorite Christmas song and it couldn’t be more fitting for this year. I specifically reference the OG version by Judy Garland with the original lyrics, but if ya’ll haven’t seen the video of Adam Lambert singing this song, you need to. It made my ugly cry. But like...in a good way? (video is here) Hope you enjoy this lovely!

Muddle Through Somehow

It wasn’t necessarily the soft sound of footsteps approaching that startled y/n. It was the fact that said footsteps came from a person who usually made no sound at all. If she could hear him walking, it was because he was letting her.

Somehow that made the whole situation worse, which made y/n cry. Again. 

Y/n buried her face in her hands, shielding herself from view and trying to muffle the sound of her tears. It didn’t work. Instead, the sound of feet grew closer more quickly. A heavy, metallic hand landed on her shoulder, tugging her shoulder until she was facing him.

“Y/n?” Bucky’s voice sounded strained and rough - tired even. “What’s the matter doll?”

On a good night, Bucky got very little uninterrupted sleep. Judging by the creases in his right cheek, the squint of his eyes and the mussed hair on one side, tonight had been somewhat of a “good night.” Until she woke him up and robbed him of what little rest he had been enjoying. Y/n sobbed harder.

Bucky’s arms, one warm flesh and the other cool metal, wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against him. The gentle vibrations of his soothing words tickled her cheek where it lay on his chest. Bucky’s fingers skimmed the length of her back as she held onto him like a life raft.

Eventually the tears dried, leaving y/n red-nosed and sniffing against Bucky, whose firm, reassuring grip on her never wavered.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her voice was hoarse and sounded painful as she mumbled the words into the cotton of his now tear-stained t-shirt.

Bucky pulled back then; only enough to look into her face while his hands found her waist.

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for.”

His stormy blue eyes searched hers as though he was trying to etch the sincerity of his words into her corneas. Even in the dim light, y/n could see the furrow of his brow and the concerned pinch of his lips as he regarded her. 

Before she could argue or respond, Bucky was guiding her into the kitchen. Pulling out one of the stools at the counter, he motioned for her to sit while he set about making them each a cup of tea. The silence that stretched on was comfortable despite the occasional punctuating sniffle. 

Turning, Bucky produced two steaming mugs and handed y/n the one with Snoopy dressed as Santa on the front. His own mug featured Woodstock donning an exceptionally long stocking cap. He took a sip and leaned across the counter, elbows resting against the cool granite surface.

“Now, you wanna tell me what’s the matter?” One corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched upward as he readjusted his grip on the mug. 

Y/n tapped her nails against the side of her mug, eyes trained on the steaming cup, as if she were concentrating on the tinkling tune against the ceramic. She screwed her mouth up to one side, trying to find the words to explain. 

The soft clink of ceramic on granite stirred her from her thoughts as Bucky placed a finger under her chin and nudged her gaze up toward him.

“Come on sweetheart. You can always talk to me.” 

His voice held a nearly undetectable tone of uncertainty; worry even. 

“I know. It’s not that. It’s just…” she sighed again, leaning into his touch as his hand slid to cup her cheek. “I’m just...sad. I feel like everything is upside down.”

Bucky frowned, his hand dropping from her face and she instantly felt a chill at the loss of his touch. Rounding the small counter between them, Bucky turned the stool she sat on to face him and held both of her hands in his.

“Have I…” Bucky inhaled sharply. “Did I do something?”

Y/n sighed, silently berating herself for making him think he’d done anything wrong. She squeezed his hands.

“No, baby. Not at all. You’re wonderful.” Y/n sniffed and pressed her forehead against his. “It’s just this damn year. It seems like everything that could go wrong has. I mean Christmas is what...a week away? We have the tree decorated, the stockings hung...everything looks so normal from the outside. But it’s not. It’s like all the things that bring me so much joy every year are just making me so infinitely sad.”

Y/n’s voice cracked on the last syllable and Bucky wrapped his arms around her again.

“I think it’s just really finally hit me that I’m not getting to spend Christmas with my family. And I get it; it’s safest to stay away, but it’s breaking my heart.”

“I know, doll.” He pressed a sweet kiss into her hair. “I know and I’m so sorry.”

Y/n pulled back and offered him a watery smile. “If I didn’t have you, Buck, I don’t know what I would do.”

Bucky pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tilted her head up slightly. He returned her smile for just a second before kissing her gently. “I feel the same way, sweetheart. I’m the luckiest man alive. C’mere.”

Grabbing her hand, Bucky pulled y/n out of the kitchen and into the living room. Stooping down, he plugged in the tree and all at once the room shimmered with the warm lights meticulously wrapped around every branch. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat at the sight; just like it did every time. There must be some form of sorcery that went into Christmas lights that made them constantly emanate peace and joy no matter how sour her mood; y/n was sure of it.

Bucky then moved to the record player and dropped the needle, the faint scratch echoing softly as he returned to stand before her. 

“Dance with me?” Bucky held out his hand, eyebrow arched and a warm smile stretching across his face.

There was no hesitation as y/n moved easily into his arms and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. She breathed deeply, inhaling his warm scent just as Judy Garland began singing.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light Next year all our troubles will be out of sight

Tears burned at the back of y/n’s eyes and she clutched onto Bucky tightly as he led her in a slow circle.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Make the yuletide gay Next year all our troubles will be miles away

“This is my favorite Christmas song,” y/n sniffed. Bucky hummed above her in agreement.

“Reminds me of being a kid,” Bucky chuckled.

Y/n looked up and found a dreamy, bittersweet look cross his face. 

“I thought this movie came out after the war?” 

There was a time when Y/n avoided asking questions about the war and Bucky’s life before HYDRA. She hated seeing the pain in his eyes at the memories such things brought back. But over their years of being together, they’d both realized that avoidance only made the inevitable remembering hurt more. It was important for Bucky to retain those memories, even when they were painful.

“Yeah I think it did, but I may or may not have had a little crush on Judy Garland back in my day.”

Y/n scoffed, her eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. “Really?”

Bucky grinned. “Yes, really. The Wizard of Oz was one of the first movies I ever saw. Dorothy from Kansas? She was a real looker. Those big doe eyes,” he whistled lowly and chuckled. Sobering quickly though, he leaned in, lips against her ear, and whispered. “But trust me, she ain’t got nothin’ on you, doll.”

Y/n shivered as he kissed her temple and pulled her in close again, continuing to lead her in a slow, graceful sway.

Someday soon we all will be together If the fates allow Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow So have yourself a merry little Christmas, now

As the song changed, the pair remained wrapped in each other’s arms, not caring if their steps matched the beat of the music. Between Bucky’s embrace, the warm glow of the lights and the soothing crackle of the record player, y/n began to feel the wealth of sadness that had been building inside her ebb away. 

Eventually the music faded completely, only the occasional scratch and groan from the record filling the air. Everything felt still and lovely and for the first time in a while, y/n felt whole.

Maybe this year has been nothing but trash heaped upon trash and the holidays wouldn’t be what they once were. But she had Bucky and the hope that someday soon things would go back to the way they were. And right now, that was all she needed.

“Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For everything. You said before you were the luckiest man alive and I don’t know about that. But I know for a fact that I’m the luckiest woman in the world. If I’m gonna have to muddle through somehow, I’m glad I get to muddle through it with you.”

Bucky smiled as he leaned down to capture y/n’s lips in a slow, sweet kiss. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

Their lips met again for a brief moment before a yawn overtook Bucky, forcing them apart. He grimmaced, sheepishly.

“Come on, old man. Let’s get you back to bed.” Y/n grinned and pecked Bucky’s lips once more before dragging him back toward their bedroom. 

“Old man, huh?” Bucky smacked her on the ass, making y/n jump and giggle. “I’ll get you for that, my pretty. And your little dog, too.”

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

I am using my new and improved taglist. If you want to be added, Send me an ask with the list you’d like to be on. Weirdos are for everything, Heroes is MCU and Hunters is for SPN.

Weirdos: 

@hannahindie @amanda-teaches @ellen-reincarnated1967 @feelmyroarrrr @masksandtruths @princessmisery666  @jamielea81 @foxyjwls007 @becs-bunker @super100012 @shy-violet-soul @emoryhemsworth @impandagrl @donnaintx​

Heroes:

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @bethbabybaby​

[kissesinthekitchen]

Mine

Prompt: In which a jealous and protective Harry gets into a fight defending your honor, and you decide to repay him. 

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Smutty fluff. Word count: 3,446. Rated mature.

A/N: I’ve been lurking the Harry fic tag for a while now, and have become so inspired by many of the writers and stories I have encountered on here. This is my first ever Harry fanfic. Please be gentle. Likes/reblogs and any love would be appreciated! Enjoy. x

“That wasn’t quite treating people with kindness, was it?” 

You stare down at your boyfriend who is sitting on the hotel sofa, grinning up at you through his lashes and a gruesome bloody lip. 

“Fuckin’ tosser shouldn’t have been grabbing at you though. That’s right, innit?”

You press the towel of ice over his eyelid, which is already turning an angry purple and puffing up. 

It’s a fucking messy picture. Harry can only stare at you with one eye. His cheek looks equally upset, scratched and bruised. When he winces, his lip cracks again oozing blood and saliva from the pressure of mouth and teeth and dribbling onto his floral shirt. His hands are still shaking, swollen too -

This is not how you wanted to spend your last night in London before going home to see his family for the holidays. 

It was only supposed to be one night out. Dinner and then some drinks at a fancy club that Gemma had suggested months ago. You’d gone to the bar to grab some shots ---- when a red faced, tan man with greasy blonde hair had appeared at your side as you waited for the bartender to prepare your drinks. 

He’d been leaning against the bar. He used one arm to stroke your hair, his fingers dipping into your hair to brush back some strands behind your ear. The same hand then moved to train down the exposed skin of your arms. “Mmm,” he said. “Don’t you look like a present? My name’s Michael. What’s your name, love?”

“Oh-” you stuttered, trying to shrug out of his grasp. “Hi. Sorry I’m with-”

“With me, right? You’re a fucking stunner. Meant to be - that’s what we are.”

“Sorry. No. Thank you-” he was so close you had to turn in his embrace to be able to face the bartender again. You took the two glasses in each hand and tried to shift away but he wrapped the other arm around your waist, squeezing you. You were frozen. 

Your eyes tried to scan the crowd for Harry’s face, the music making you feel something akin to drowning as this Michael’s hands deepened their hold on your  skin. You froze as you felt them move to your ass. 

“I’m here with my boyfriend. Sorry.” you tried to recoil and raise the glasses up, so it would block him from trying to smash his face against yours. But it didn’t work, he took your protest as something enticing. It provoked him to move closer -- you could vomit. 

“Your what?” he tried to play along. “Where’s he? Wouldn’t let you outta my sight if you were mine.”

Then you heard a low, deep voice boom from behind you. 

“She’s here with her fucking boyfriend.”

“Harry-” you could hear the shrillness in your voice, your throat threatening to close around the anxiety and panic that had begun to pull you under. Your heart felt like it might soar with relief. He grabbed you to him so quickly, it felt like whiplash, the drinks jostling, tequila spilling on his expensive blazer. “Harry, I’m sorry-”

But he didn’t seem to hear you as he shoved you behind him. 

And Michael? The man was laughing. You watched him over Harry’s shoulder, your cheek pressed against his back. 

“You’re a fucking bitch!” he spit, before his eyes landed on Harry. “God. Don’t I know you from the telly?” He chuckled. His mouth widening when recognition dawned on him. “Oh shit! Fucking popstar!” His eyes fell on some of the people who were now turning around in the commotion-

“Harry,” you tried to tug on your boyfriend’s arm. “Let’s go.” 

But it felt like you weren’t there. His eyes were still focused on the drunk man in front of him. 

“You were saying something?” he said. His jaw ticked. The vein in his neck was pulsing. “Come on with it, then? Fuckin’ tosser.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, as if hearing him for the first time. He stepped closer to Harry. 

“Harry, come on-” you begged.

“You had something to fucking say-” Harry didn’t flinch, even as your grip on his tightened. Your nails digging into his skin-

“I. Said.” He blew air in Harry’s face. “You should keep an eye on your fucking slag.” 

Harry laughed. He did this when he got angry. Got sarcastic. There are times where you’ve argued and the sound was so cold, it felt like it could turn you to stone. It’s a memory you don’t think about often - the moments are so few and far between- but now-

In a blur, you saw Harry raise his fist and punch Michael right in the face. He threw the force of his body in it, the heavy rings on his fingers connecting with his nose at such an ugly, and gruesome angle. You could tell Harry’s reaction had caught him by surprise, he crumpled to the floor in one movement, hands grasping at his face, red dripping onto his fingers. He sounded like he was choking. 

“Harry!” you screamed. 

The crowd around you fell into a thunderous commotion, a crescendo of shouting combined with the music and flashes. The wave of people tightening to get better shots. 

“Fucking asshole!” Harry shouted. “Disgusting. Bastard. Fucking idiot!”

You tried to wrap both arms around his waist, tried to grab him away from the scene unfolding in front of you but it was too late. You could feel the way his skin seemed to vibrate under your touch. Michael grabbed for him and tried to punch him back but he missed his jaw, instead splitting his mouth in two. He tried to swing again on his crooked feet and hit Harry in the cheek. Harry made a show of spitting blood onto the tiled floor, his eyes narrowing as his fist connected with Michael’s face again and again. 

“Fucking asshole! Fucking asshole!” You saw spots of blonde hair, the commotion seemed to pulse around you. 

“Harry! Fuck, Harry stop!” 

You grabbed at Harry to pull him off Michael right as the guards of the club broke up the fight. 

“The fuck is going on here?” one giant, burly man said. His arms extended out to separate both men. 

Harry spit out more blood. “That’s my fucking girlfriend!” he glanced back to stare into your panicked eyes. “Fucking bastard grabbed at her. Wouldn’t let her go. Could we not have gotten some fucking help? Bullshit. This the kind of guys you want in your place?” Harry narrowed his eyes. 

“That true?” the guard turned to where Michael still lay in a heap on the floor. “You try to make a grab at her?” 

“I was-I” he tried to stutter around an alibi. 

Then the focus was on you. “He made you feel unsafe, ma’am?”

You could sink under the attention. You felt so small. Harry seemed to sense this, his bloodied hands moved to grasp you and just that - his hands on your forearms, holding in you place- was enough. You tried to find your voice. 

“Was just getting our drinks. He grabbed me, I couldn’t move-his hands were on my-”

The guard’s face fell, full of understanding. “Alright-” he grabbed Michael’s arms and pulled them back. “You’re out of here, mate. S’what you get for being an asshole.”

Harry’s head followed them. He was still breathing hard. 

Michael started to yell as he was carried away, “Oi! Fucking popstar, I hope you got some fucking lawyers ready. Won’t fucking get away with this!” 

“Harry,” you grabbed at him. “Harry-let’s go-”

But his eyes were still so far away. 

“Fucking bitch,” Michael spat blood in your direction.

“Harry,” you narrowed your voice, your arms locked around his waist. He stared down at you, as if finally realizing what happened, as if he was looking at you for the first time in a while.  His arm was tight around your neck. “Let’s go. Please.” 

Deepening his stare, he squeezed you tight with a quick peck to your head and finally -finally - let you steer him towards the exit. 

---

“Your mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Mum’s not gonna kill you.”

“She won’t get any photos of you at Christmas now that your face has been smashed in.”

At that, Harry seems to agree, you know by the silence you fall into as you continue working. The club owner was gracious enough to let you two through a private back entrance so you could try to avoid anymore prying eyes from the cameras on the videos you’re sure people recorded on their cellphones, as well as the photographers that had gathered outside in the commotion as a result of a bunch of tweets and texts going out. 

You’d been silent on the ride home too, holding Harry’s clasped hands in your lap. Insisting on asking the Uber driver to stop at a pharmacy so you could grab a first aid kit to patch your boyfriend back together again. 

You asked the driver to go around the back of the hotel to avoid some photographers that had already gathered outside. And once there, you carried Harry up to the hotel room with his arm staying slung over your shoulder, keeping you tight to his side even when you had to take the bucket from the fridge down to fill it with ice cubes for his face. 

And now, sitting on your knees in front of Harry, you still don’t know whether to be upset with him. 

Sure, you’d been scared - horribly frightened even- when you heard the crack of that douchebag’s bone under his fist. But there’s a larger, almost unbeknownst part of yourself that you don’t want to acknowledge - the relief that had rushed over you when Harry had appeared by your side, his big hands moving you behind him. The way your heart thrummed, the chill down your spine at the angry, dangerous look in Harry’s eyes. To see him look so out of control with his anger. So unhinged. God, it might have even made you a little wet. 

But you won’t tell Harry that, not yet at least. Not when he’s still hurt and simultaneously being a smug little shit as you treat his wounds. You let the silence draw out like the space between you. You try to ignore the way you can feel his eyes on you, you think it’s just him trying to make sure you’re okay, maybe waiting for you into go into hysterics - but no, he’s always like this. Some part of him always itching to be a part of you. As if to demonstrate it, he keeps one long arm reaching towards you, his large hand resting draped over your lap as you lean in to inspect his face. 

“Ice is melting. Let me change it,” you say, gingerly unfolding the hand on his eye. You scoop more ice out from the bucket and into another towel. “Press it down.” You remind him, as he holds it to his eye with the hand not on your leg. You unwrap a pack of bandages, alcohol, ointment and go to work. 

“‘It’s gonna make the paper tomorrow, babe.” He winces as you swipe the alcohol across his cheek, but you don’t know whether it’s because of the cut or the truth you’ve just reminded him is dawning. “Might even be online already. Probably trending.” 

“Shit-” he mutters. 

A long minute passes before he speaks again. 

“S’gonna be alright.” he whispers. “We’ll be alright.” 

“Mmmhmm,” you say back, your attention focused on cleaning the rest of the drying blood on his cheek. His usually flawless pale skin flushes in your grasp. 

“M’sorry about work.” he says, softly as if he’s embarrassed. You only nod in silence as you smooth another band-aid across his cheekbone, your fingers pressing against the sharpness of it - too distracted to really consider the gossip that will follow you back to the elementary school you work at. The nosey coworkers. Idly, you think -hope, pray- that the holiday will create enough distance. You don’t think the school would like another barrage of paparazzi trying to loom around the campus. You remember the scowl that had gripped Harry’s face when you told him that someone had tried to follow you home-

“It’s okay,” you tell him, your fingers grasping his face so he knows you’re serious. “You were only defending my honor.”

At that, he blinks, the smoothness of his lips trembling from a straight line into a curve. He beams up at you. “I was…?”

You straighten your back to dump the bloodied wash cloth and bandages into the bin next to you. “I should repay you for that, shouldn’t I?”

In the corner of your eye you see Harry perk up, the air shifting as he realizes you’re no longer angry or upset with him. At least, not anymore. 

He closes his eyes as you run your hands through the curls on his head, scratching your nails at the nape of his neck where he likes it best. You move onto your knees to slide into his lap and straddle his thighs. 

“God. I love your face. Hate to see it like this.” you admit to him, nuzzling close to where the buttons of his shirt are open, your lips pressing kisses to his throat and collarbones. “Wish I could kiss you.”

“Got other parts of me you can kiss, pet.” 

You smirk at him, pulling back to smooth your hair over one shoulder. “Is that right?”

“Can’t you feel me?” He chuckles. “Want you so bad, honey.” 

He hisses as you move to unbuckle the belt of his pants, your warm fingers digging into the waistband of his underwear to take him into your hand. He licks his lips and whines as you grasp him, pulling tight at the tip where he’s already throbbing and leaking and pushing down. 

He whines. “Mmm, so hard, love.” 

“Yeah? Getting into fights make you hard, Harry? Saw red when you saw someone touching what was yours?”

“Shit-” he says. It’s a grunt through his clenched teeth. The gravely sound of it makes you clench at the sound. “Yeah-yeah. You’re mine. Fuck. I don’t know what came over me.” He laughs, low in his throat. “I think I could’a fuckin’ killed him-”

“Should do something for you then, huh?” You giggle, a mischievous smile stretching over your lips. “How do you want me, H?”

“On your knees,” he says. “Want your mouth. Take me into your mouth, love.”

His eyes seem to find clarity for a moment, the deepness of his voice guiding you back onto the floor. 

Usually you pepper kisses down his abdomen, kiss every one of his tattoos but there is no time for that tonight. It’s not what he deserves. Quickly, you make work of his clothes, pulling his trousers and underwear down enough to pull his cock out. You move onto your knees to hover over him, hot breath and lips kissing up the length of him-

Your cheeks feel hot as you let his voice guide you, even though you’ve done this so many times. 

“None of that right now please. Put me in love.” Harry moans as you open your mouth wide, your eyes locked with his green gaze, never breaking contact as you let him use you to get off. One hand grasping the base of himself so he can feed you his cock. Your lips work over the thickness of him, something you’ll never ever get used to. Your mouth and chin becoming slick with your spit and his precum as you work your mouth on him. He feels heavy against your tongue. “God, you suck it so well. Take me so well, love. Fuck. Your mouth’s so soft-” 

“Why’re you so good to me?” he babbles on. Your ears feels like they’re prickling under the warmth of his praise. You would be smiling at him if your mouth wasn’t so stuffed with his cock. “God. Why’re you so good to me? Suckin’ me so well. And probably gonna let me eat your cunt later, huh? Have got such a pretty pussy too. My baby-”

You try to press your thighs together but it’s not enough. It’s as if every one of Harry’s grunts and moans is able to egg your hands on. It’s hard but you untangle your fingers from his to slip it under your dress and push your panties aside to press them against where you are aching and disappointingly empty. Your lips are firm as you moan around Harry’s length. 

You watch his neck roll back against the couch, the line of his jaw tipping up towards the ceiling as he swallows hard. His Adam’s Apple is bobbing. “God, does sucking my cock make you wet, love? You’re so sweet. Do you like it when I come for you? It makes you so wet-God. Fuck. I can hear it. I can hear how wet you are for me.”

One of his hands stays clasped over your forearm, which is resting against the tiger tattoo on his thigh and gripping the base of him where your mouth can’t stretch. The other is tangled in your hair, combing it back and cupping your cheek so he can stare into your face as you suck him off. 

“Fuck,” he says, as if disbelief is caught in his throat. “Let me see that pretty face stretched over my cock. You’re so beautiful, baby.” At that, you hollow your cheeks and hum back in appreciation. 

You can tell Harry’s close when he gets more desperate. His grunts and moans get closer together, his fingers more frantic to find purchase on something. 

“Don’t,” he grunts, even as his fingers have moved to grip the back of your head to keep you in place so he can fuck into your mouth. His hips are stuttering off the edge of the couch as he gasps, “You’ll make me come. Y/N. You’ll make me come. Oh god-”

His voice breaks, cracking around the sound of your name as he spills deep into your mouth. 

“Y/N. Y/N. Fuck me- Y/N,” he says.

You take him in deep, swallowing down the taste of him as he trembles and whimpers your name again and again. Not one drop left spared, because just like he is always so desperate to be a part of you, you’re so very desperate for every inch of him. 

You moan your appreciation back and hold him there until he starts to soften. The muscles in your jaw and throat ache but you’re happy. His fingers stroke the back of your head when you know he’s become too sensitive, and you let him slip from your mouth. You lick around the length of his cock, his balls, pressing lips to his stomach and cleaning him up. Resting your head against his torso and rubbing your fingers and lips against the leaves on his belly as you listen to him calm down. 

“Fuck. C’mere love-” You tuck him back into his pants and pull yourself up the length of him to press your mouth to his. His fingers grasp your face tenderly and clench in your hair, his moans deepening as he tastes himself on your tongue. “Thank you. God, I love you so much. I needed that. Needed you.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, as you settle back into the nest of his lap. “Don’t want you starting a fuss over me. Or hurting this beautiful face. My favorite face. But still, thank you.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you, kissing the top of his head and the roots of his hair. 

“For what?” he muses, with a mischievous grin. He slides his other hand around your waist and presses his face into your throat and nuzzling the top of your breasts, cuddling closer. 

“For defending my honor,” You cradle his blistered hand up to your face and kiss the rings on his knuckles as you begin listing things off. “For not letting that asshole get away. For showing everyone not to mess with what’s yours.”

“Did what I had to do, didn’t I?” he says, looking up at you. Your heart clenches at the conviction in his voice. The crease in his eye somehow still making him more adorable, even all puffed up. The dimple in his cheek deepening. 

“You’re my woman,” he says in a voice that sounds like nothing else in his life could be more true. 

You kiss the side of his mouth, his cheek tenderly as he whispers into your hair-

“And I’m your man.” 

____

A/N: Hope you liked this! Fine Line has inspired me to try to write a story for each track on the album. This was what I came up with for Treat People with Kindness, as the joke y/n makes in the beginning popped in my head! More stories to come hopefully. 

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

i’m falling again (Bakugo Katsuki X Reader) (sad ending)

Guys... Harry Style’s newest song is... heartwrenching and I fucking love it, it’s such a tearjerker and I love it so much, I NEEDED to write something with it... it’s that good and it made me cry... >.< </b>

Think of this as an extra to my ‘Dump His Ass’ series that I never expected to become oddly popular!! Thanks you guys!! <3</b>

However, while I love me some angst, I think after I’m done with this I’ll hafta write another fic with a happier ending, but for now... here’s the sad ending!! :3 

FROM: https://ice-cream-kitsunegirl.tumblr.com/post/188898319229/i-needed-to-lose-you-to-love-me-bakugou-katsuki-x

Summary: Bakugo isn’t known for his soft heart, but when he saw you kissing another man, it physically hurt...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olGSAVOkkTI

Nothing hurt or scared Katsuki Bakugo.

Nothing. 

He’s been strong and brave-hearted since he was a child, fearless by nature he didn’t let anything get to him and never showed any moment of weakness and never cried about anything, no temper tantrums didn’t count. 

He wasn’t afraid of the dark as a child, he wasn’t afraid of the bullies who were bigger than him. His fear didn’t waver as he got older and stronger. Because he wasn’t afraid of the villains who attacked him and his classmates at the USJ. He wasn’t even scared of the villains who captured him at the summer camp.

They held him captive and tied him up so he couldn’t escape or try to fight back, he wasn’t scared then. Nothing could get to him. Nothing could make him break down, he didn’t cry when he got his first shot at the doctor, he didn’t cry when those older kids fought with him, he didn’t cry when he wiped out on his bike and hurt his ankle. 

He didn’t cry and he wasn’t afraid of anything. 

Aside from maybe getting nearly possessed by that Sludge Villain, and then All-Might going into retirement. Those were the only two moments in his life that probably scared and internally harmed him the most to bring him to tears.

However...

There’s only one person who really knew how much that scared and hurt him. And that person was you, his beloved girlfriend. Even when he didn’t want to, because Bakugo didn’t open up to people, it wasn’t in his nature. Still, somehow you knew everything about him, and even enabled him to open up to you on the rare moments where he would let you see even a SMIDGE of vulnerability from him because he trusted you.

You were always more openly emotional than him, so much it was annoying especially when you would just chat and chat about something you loved whether it was a movie, a TV show or something he thought was dumb. Still, he listened to you, and God he wished he did more of that. But he especially listened when you were being vulnerable and opening up about everything. Ever since you and him were kids, he’s had a soft spot for you and actually let you open up.

You knew him, you trusted him, you loved him. And he knew you, he trusted you, and he loved you.

But then you dumped his ass, told him what a shitty boyfriend he had been and said you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him for several months as you avoided him, froze him out and showed how little you needed him because he failed you.

Now that both terrified him and hurt him...

I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back I can't unpack the baggage you left

It’s been almost half a year since the two of you have broken up, and only recently you and Bakugo got some closure and you didn’t take him back. And honestly, Bakugo knew that was nobody’s fault but his own. He hated admitting it to himself but he knew there was no one else to blame but himself.

As he lied in his bed, he tried his hardest to ignore the fact that you still weren’t with him. Valentine’s Day wasn’t long ago, but he didn’t buy you anything because you and him weren’t together anymore. 

The worst part? He didn’t even get you anything LAST Valentine’s Day because he said it was stupid, commercialized and a game that you shouldn’t have played into even as you gave him those chocolates and even a card that he still secretly kept.

He really was a shitty boyfriend. He realized that the more he lied down with an anguished scowl and growled. Bakugo was aware that he could have been a better boyfriend, but the breaking point was when he called you something he swore he’d NEVER call you.

That’s why you left him. You put up with his bullshit long enough, you could handle him being a jerk, saying ‘no’ to spending time with him, but then he insulted your appearance, your weight, and your interests. The same things all the assholes from school used to insult you for, the assholes HE protected you from.

“Dammit!!” He yelled at no one but himself, “You fucking idiot!!” Even though you said that the two of you could still be friends, Bakugo wished for more than that. He wanted you back...

He wanted you back so fucking much even though he knew he didn’t deserve you. Bakugo refused to shed any tears even as he eventually closed his eyes...

“I dump your ass!”

“WHAT?!”

“You heard me. I. DUMP. YOUR. ASS!” You enunciated the words slowly and deliberately to annoy him and he was extremely indignant and appalled that you were… seriously breaking up with him?! HIM?!

“You’re dumping me?!”

“What the fuck do you think I said it two fucking times!!” 

“You’re not seriously breaking up with me over a fucking insult?!” Bakugou’s pride started talking for him though, because he refused to let you bruise his ego by dumping HIM.

“Yes I am Katsuki, and that’s not the only reason… It’s because you’re also selfish and mean! You’re the worst boyfriend ever and I’ve put up with your shit plenty of times but this is just WAY TOO FUCKING MUCH! What you said is just too fucking much for me to even put up with, you’ve completely broken me down I feel like shit and I’ve HAD it and I’m dumping your ass!”

...

“You called me ‘fat’, ‘ugly’ and ‘lazy’ Katsuki. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“I did NOT call you ugly!” Bakugou replied defensively, aware that he called you ‘fat’ when he really shouldn’t have and he didn’t deny it, but he did NOT call ugly at all. He never thought you were ugly, but you didn’t believe him.  

“Yeah you did… you implied it.” 

“No, I didn’t you idiot! I said shit I shouldn’t have but I never once called you ugly and I didn’t fucking imply it either!”

“You know I’ve been struggling with my self-image and my weight for years Katsuki, and yet you go and say all the things people from school had said to me for years, the people who made me feel ugly, so… you must think I’m ugly if you would say what they’ve been calling me…” 

“I don’t think you’re ugly…” His voice came out as a soft growl, but you shook your head, “Then you wouldn’t have said what you did… it’s okay… I’ve known it for years… well you know what? You’re free now, you don’t need some ugly, fat girl like me dragging you down, maybe now you can go out with that chick from Shiketsu High now..”

...

“How fucking long are you going to punish me (Y/N)?! HOW FUCKING LONG?! ARE YOU REALLY STILL PISSED OFF OVER SOMETHING THAT HAPPENED MONTHS AGO?!”

“Of COURSE, I’m still kind of pissed off! And for the record I am NOT punishing you, you narcissistic asshole, I’m TRYING to think about how I should forgive you for the things you swore to NEVER call me! Or if I even should forgive you! W-What? You want me to j-ju-ju-just… make out with you like its old times?!” You exclaimed with the same vexation that you had been keeping at bay ever since the two of you broke up, not seeing Bakugou’s narrowing eyes and shaking figure as he seethed when you once again, reminded him of the big mistake he made with you.

“I… I mean I… I can’t even look at your face Katsuki! Without… thinking about and hearing the words you said to me and the expression of anger and disgust on your face when you said that I was just some fat pig who was wasting your time!” Emotion nearly choked you up as you wiped your eyes when tears started to cloud them and you couldn’t see just how aggravated and distressed Bakugo was as he clutched his hair out of frustration.

“I FUCKED UP!! How many times do I have to say that I fucked up?! How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?!”

Throwing his hands up, he shouted that he had indeed screwed up, louder than before, frustrated with everything, with you, with himself, with the fucking guilt that just started eating away at him again.

“You can say you’re sorry all you want! I just… I can’t ignore the fact that you would stoop so low to say the same things the people YOU protected me from would say to me. Why did you do that?” 

“ARGH! Dammit! I don’t fucking know! I was pissed off! I had shit I was dealing with and I took it out on you but I shouldn’t have! I admit it!” 

“I just… god… here’s my real question… why are you such a fucking asshole to me?” 

“For God’s sake I said I was sorry for what I said all right?! I’ve said it a million goddamn times! I’m SORRY (Y/N)! I didn’t mean what I said to you! I want to take it all back because it was the worst fucking thing I could have ever said to anyone! Especially you!” He shouted his apology, the angry tears threatening to spill but you shook your head at this.

“I’m not talking about what you said, I’m talking about everything! Ever since we got together you’ve still managed to treat me like shit! Even before we got together you still treated me like shit, and yet it got worse when we became a thing! You hardly spent anytime with me, pushed me away when I tried to help you, made fun of what I liked, insulted me and called me other names for what? Cuz I’m a geek like Izuku, cuz I like geeky things and like to watch TV and eat sweets and say dumb puns and hang out with Izuku and Hitoshi, well I’m sick of it Katsuki! I’m fucking sick of it!”

...

“Look… Katsuki… I mean you no ill will. I still care about you, and I still love you but… I really, really don’t think you’re a good boyfriend…” You said a little bluntly but made your voice soften as he gasped quietly.

“You’re not a bad person… but you’re not a good boyfriend either… and I don’t really think that I can really return to a relationship like that… sorry…” 

“I know I wasn’t! But… look just… dammit (Y/N) I’m not going to say any of that shit to you ever again! I won’t fuck up like I did last time I swear!” He sounded desperate, as if he was pleading to you as he moved closer and you fought the tears starting to build in your eyes when he grabbed your hands. He would beg if he had to, he just couldn’t lose you.

“I love you.”

He said calmly and yet sincerely, out of pure impulse but that’s what he truly meant. He loved you and he just wanted to hear you say the words back to him. He knew you did…

“See that’s just it… I know you love me… I love you too… but… I thought you loving me was enough, at least… until… you said the things you did… now I know you’re sorry… and I don’t doubt that you do love me but… I started hating myself again when you said those things and it made me realize that… I need to love me too, I need to start loving myself… and I didn’t love myself when I was with you. I let you do that for me, and… I can’t do that anymore. It’s not fair to you, and not good for me.”

...

What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

Bakugo’s eyes snapped open as the memories played in his head like some kind of fucked up movie as he remembered every word you said, every tear you shed because of him.

And now here he was, holding in his own tears that he refused to let fall as he angrily wiped at his eyes. No, he did not and would not cry, and he couldn’t cry over spilt milk no matter much it fucking hurt. No matter how much he wanted to just sob and cry out for you to come back to him so he could tell you how fucking sorry he was.

Dammit he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He got up out of bed so he can go to your room and knock until you answer. He needed you, he needed you now...

He outright dashed to the floor where your room was and knocked somewhat vigorously. No answer. Growling, he knocked a little bit harder but again, there was no answer.

Were you asleep? Probably, you were a pretty deep sleeper, but dammit, he wished you were awake to answer him. But then he froze as soon as he heard the tell-tale sound of laughter...

YOUR laughter.

Relief overwhelmed him as he didn’t even realize that he was running so he could find you and not look as pathetic as he probably did right now. He could still hear you, you were near. The commons, duh, you were a late sleeper and watched Netflix when you couldn’t sleep...

“That is disgraceful...” 

But then the ash-blonde stopped dead in his tracks and froze the second he heard someone else’s voice that wasn’t yours. No fucking way...

Eyebags...

“I know...! Oh my God... how humiliating... I love this show but it so uncomfortably hits close to home...” That was your voice and you were giggling as you happily watched that gross show Bakugo didn’t care about at all. Big Mouth it was called, on Netflix too. You were watching Season 3′s ‘How to Have an Orgasm’ to be specific and of course, it was hilarious...

Unlike Bakugo, Shinsou appreciated the show, and watched it with you as he had with other shows on Netflix such as Stranger Things, Kimmy Schmidt, The Good Place, and Big Mouth.  

“Tell me about it... puberty’s a bitch... still is to be honest.” And to make matters worse, Shinsou was laughing with you and it wasn’t the first time. Bakugo was never a fan of Shinsou, he knew you were friends with that bastard, but naturally he was jealous of him because it just seemed like you two were just so damn buddy-buddy and it was annoying.

And yet there was now, just watching TV with you, while he himself was probably the furthest person from your mind...

What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

“Hee-hee... okay~. What do you say? The Office? Since...” Sighing sadly and dramatically you raised your fist in the air, “Friends got taken off...? Or The Good Place maybe?” You binge-watched the entire series before the New Year, because Netflix took it off, but at least you still had The Office and The Good Place.

“Yeah... Friends is gone, but The Office is here for us. Thank God... So yeah... let’s watch The Office. I’d watch The Good Place but I need to watch Season 4 since it just came out but I haven’t seen it yet. And I’ve been dodging spoilers ever since...” Shinsou gave you a smile even though he was just as unhappy as you were when they took Friends off of Netflix.  

“All riiiight~! Hee-hee good idea... I haven’t seen it yet either, I’m waiting til we get the chance to see it with Fumikage, Yuga, Denki and Mina so we can watch the last one altogether~.”

Bakugo had no idea why he was still standing there, but something in him told him to just fucking move already and say something to get your attention so you could see him. He opened his mouth to speak but...

“Can you believe this show’s been out for like 15 years and it’s just getting popular? Like crazy popular?” You nudged Shinsou playfully as he chuckled a bit, “Guess they finally realized how great a show it is...”

Shinsou thought outloud, having gotten closer to you over the past couple of months and spent a lot of time chilling out with you and also training with you as well. Then there were days when you and he would just spend the hours gabbing away about things you both liked. 

“That’s true... some people thought it was uncomfortable... but then they started to like it... which is nice.” You smiled a bit even though you were kind of sad for some reason. The last few months had been... awkward. After all, you had broken up with your boyfriend and went through quite a bit of drama until you cleared it up and made up with Bakugo. You didn’t get together with him, but the two of you reached an understanding and were still friends.

You still talked to him, and you lost your hostility towards him and became more cordial towards him. Although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t still love him. But this was for the best, you couldn’t go back to that, and you were in a better place anyway. You started to feel better and you were able to use your quirk again to fly without your sadness holding you back. You were happier, and not only that...

“Like me.” Shinsou smirked a little bit even though it was a self-deprecating joke which made you roll your eyes. “Hitoshi... okay... you’re a little uncomfortable to be around sometimes, but that was like only in the beginning, you’re great! You’re super great... and awesome. I mean your quirk is so cool, you can fight and punch someone hard enough to knock them out now! AND... you also like Friends, The Office, The Good Place, Stranger Things, smart as hell and you’re nice... well, not nice, but you have a nice side... anyone who can do all those things and like all of that HAS to be great in my book.” You kinda poked at him a bit as he playfully smacked your shoulder with a little grin which made you giggle.

And Bakugo hated it...

“Oh yeah? Well... you’re giving me too much credit (Y/N)... Here’s the truth... I think... you’re great.” 

But Bakugo’s eyes widened when he heard Shinsou say those words to you and you blushed and looked at him with wide eyes that practically shined with stars in them. “Really?”

“Yeah...” He sounded kind of flustered but he didn’t really stop because this was something he needed to tell you even though his face was getting increasingly hot just saying all of this as he nervously scratched the back of his neck, “I mean... your quirk is unique. You made yourself fly, you gave yourself wings to fly, no one else did that but you, you used your quirk creatively and it shows even outside of that, when something bad happens, you managed to make yourself fly again. And you’re weird... in a good way, everyone’s so fake and plastic that they don’t even try to be who they are, but you’re not fake, you’re just... you. Even if you know not everyone will like it, you don’t try to hide it or change yourself for anyone whether they like it or not, and that’s just... great.... I try to do that, I make no effort to change myself but... when you do it it’s actually cool.  I guess... I mean... yeah I just... I think that’s all great. I think... you’re great (Y/N).”

Shinsou stopped making eye contact with you as he felt somewhat bashful, but only when he finished is when he finally looked at you and saw your (E/C) eyes wide and your cheeks flushed. Neither of you aware that Bakugo was still there, listening...

That stupid brainwasher was right... you were great but dammit... HE wanted to tell you that... HE wanted to tell you how great your were and everything else that you were. Beautiful, amazing, intelligent, powerful...

However...

You were so stunned by everything Shinsou told you that you didn’t even think, you acted on pure impulse as you quickly leaned in and you didn’t even hear the gasp coming from your ex-boyfriend’s mouth once he saw your lips on Shinsou’s.

And I get the feelin' that you'll never need me again...

He was falling. Bakugo felt like he was falling as he watched you kiss that brainwashing bastard who made a startled, surprised sound once he felt your warm kiss. Yet Shinsou didn’t deter as Bakugo clenched his fists when he saw his eyes closing as he kissed you back.

He didn’t exist. You didn’t even see him and he knew it because you were lost in such a deep kiss with this extra and it fucking hurt...

He wanted to scream, he wanted to push Shinsou away and tell him to fuck off and tell you that he wanted you back, but he did nothing...

And he knew he was just a fucking loser because all he did was stand there, until his feet started moving as he turned his back so he could get the hell out of here. No, Bakugo couldn’t bear to see you kissing that bastard, he couldn’t bear to see that you had officially moved on.

He didn’t matter anymore to you, he knew it...

Nothing hurt or scared Katsuki Bakugo. Nothing. Except for seeing the love of his life kissing another man. He was a coward, a fucking weakling because now everything was hurting, his chest ached as he lied back in his bed. And he was letting this hurt him, but dammit... it hurt because he loved you. He still loved you and still wanted you here...

What am I now? What am I now? What if you’re someone I just want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...

You were his biggest fan,  his biggest supporter. Not anymore. He knew that... but he didn’t love you just because of that, he loved you because you were you. A dork, a weirdo, unafraid to be your loving and quirky self. You softened his heart and yet he let his own stupidity and asshole self treat you like garbage when you deserved better than that.

He refused to cry, but because he was such a damn weakling the tears just fell and betrayed him by streaming down his face as he swallowed the hard lump in his throat that was threatening to crawl up and make it’s presence known. His breath hitching as he stared up at his ceiling and his mind just showed the image of you kissing Shinsou.

Along with the image of him yelling at you and you ending it with him. It was all he could see through his teary eyes as a soft sob choked him while tears continued to fall and drip down his neck. 

Because you didn’t love him anymore, and you weren’t going to need him again and that fucking terrified him more than anything as he cried and fell back into his misery and wished that it was him kissing you, and wishing that you were here with him to catch him as he fell.

What if I’m down? What if I’m out? What if I'm someone you won’t talk about? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'...