#my tags are longer than my reply geez

[hrhprincerichard]

That would make the evening a little less fun. I'll try to come up with a suitable replacement. You do. That present turned out better than I thought. Even if you reading that poem made things rather difficult for me that night.

I am certainly for that plan! Yet another thing I never thought I'd be doing but you make sound so enticing

Ha! Fuck you, if you show up with beans on toast I refuse to share my tequila with you. Glad to hear it. I could probably be talked into reading you another Spanish poem, I do have a book of them ;)

Oh yeah? If just the thought of taking a photo is doing that to you I guess we'll have to make it happen then won't we? ;)

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Accidentally On Purpose

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !non-athletic fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: was it really an accident ....

Alright the one shot as promised! I hope you all enjoy it!

For the past two years, Paige and I had been quietly building a life together while keeping it low-key on social media. It wasn’t that we were hiding; we just preferred to let people wonder. The occasional soft launch—her hoodie on me in an Instagram story, my hand visible in her post-game meal pic—had fueled plenty of speculation, but we never confirmed anything.

But this past week changed things.

Paige had sprained her knee during the January 5th game. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but her coach had benched her and banned her from practices to ensure she healed fully. That left her with more free time than either of us were used to, and she spent most of it at my apartment, lazing on the couch with her leg propped up.

“Coach is going to regret this,” she joked one evening as we watched a movie. “I’m getting too used to being pampered by you.”

“Pampered?” I snorted, handing her a cup of tea. “You’ve been milking this injury for all it’s worth.”

“And you love it,” she said smugly, taking the mug and flashing me a grin.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Having her around more often was nice, even if it meant dealing with her teasing 24/7.

By the time January 15th rolled around, Paige was cleared to play in the UConn vs. St. John’s game. She was practically bouncing with excitement, even as I made her promise to take it easy.

“I’m not going to push it,” she assured me, pulling me into a quick hug before heading to campus. “But I’m not sitting out any longer than I have to.”

“Just don’t forget who made your recovery bearable,” I teased, poking her side.

“How could I forget? You’re my favorite nurse,” she said with a wink before disappearing out the door.

That evening, I watched from the stands as Paige played like she’d never been injured. She wasn’t at 100%, but her movements were sharp, her energy infectious. UConn won, of course, 71-45 to be exact and I cheered louder than anyone else as she jogged off the court with her teammates.

After the game, I was scrolling through my photo gallery, deciding what to post. It had been a while since I’d done a photo dump, and I had plenty of new material: blurry candids of Paige from the past week, a shot of my coffee from earlier, and a cute mirror selfie I’d taken that morning.

As I uploaded the photos to Instagram, I included one of Paige and me kissing—something I’d meant to keep private. I was too distracted tagging locations and adding captions to notice until it was too late.

When I refreshed the post, my heart dropped. There it was: a clear shot of Paige holding my face as she kissed me, her other hand resting on my waist. And the kicker? I’d tagged her.

“Crap,” I muttered, staring at my phone in horror.

The comments were already rolling in:

@uconnfan23: OMG WAIT IS THIS REAL??

@basketballbae: so y’all really been soft launching for TWO YEARS??

@team_pucker: someone call TMZ 😭

@kamoreaarnold: I see we got the @trufur run in here

Paige’s name popped up in my notifications seconds later.

@paigebueckers: Are you serious right now??

I groaned, typing out a quick reply.

@yourusername: It was an accident! Calm down 😩

Her response was immediate.

@paigebueckers: Accident my ass. You’ve been plotting this.

@yourusername: Oh, because I’m the one who’s been hinting for two years? Sure, Paige.

@paigebueckers: Don’t deflect! This is a hard launch! A HARD LAUNCH!!

The back-and-forth continued, drawing more attention to the post. Fans and friends chimed in, most of them thrilled by the revelation.

@azzi35: Finally, geez. We’ve all known.

@williamskayla_: Y’all arguing in the comments is the real entertainment here.

@janaelalfy8: @paigebueckers we all knew this would happen someday. You’re just mad you didn’t get to plan it.

By the time I put my phone down, the post had thousands of likes and hundreds of comments. I was half expecting Paige to storm into my apartment, but instead, she called.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice somewhere between exasperated and amused.

“Dead serious,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Look, I didn’t mean to post it, but...is it really that bad?”

She sighed dramatically. “No, it’s not bad. It’s just...sudden. We’ve been low-key for so long.”

“Too long,” I pointed out. “And the reaction’s been good so far.”

“I guess,” she said, the smile in her voice now evident. “But if anyone asks, I’m telling them you planned this.”

“Deal,” I said, laughing.

By the next morning, the post had gone viral, with news outlets and fan accounts picking it up. Paige leaned into it, sharing the post to her story with the caption:

"Well, the cat’s out of the bag. @yourusername, you’re lucky I love you."

I reshared her story with my own caption:

"Love you too, drama queen 💕."

From that moment on, there were no more soft launches—just the two of us, unapologetically in love and finally out in the open. And honestly? It felt perfect.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[lunamochii]

a/n ; hello guys! I just keep on disappearing on this platform geez😭 anyways here's angst/fluff akaashi! There's also a suna one coming up, requested by a reader!

11:55

cw; angst/fluff, pls expect spelling and grammatical errors, x f!reader.

likes, reblogs with tags and feedbacks are highly recommended!

"Let's go on a date. My treat."

Excited is not the right word for what you are feeling right now, Akaashi seldom ask you out on a date ever since you started dating 4 months ago. His busy and you know it that you don't bother asking for small things. Being able to see him whenever they have a practice match is enough for him.

"That's a wide smile you got there, boyfriend things?"

You laugh at the remark of your friend and nodded

"Yeah, Akaashi ask me out on a date!"

She rolled her eyes and sat on your desk

"And what? He will text you that he got caught up from practice and is unable to come?"

"It was one time, okay?"

"Yeah, right."

You poke her side making her jump down from your desk and glare at you, she's ticklish on the side and totally hates it when you poke her. You shoo'd her away since the class is about to start but your friend's word lingers around and you did your best to forget it.

You're standing at the front of your school building, lifting your wrist to have a look at your wrist and saw it's already 5:30 but you can wait for a little bit more. Though the sky is looking rather dark. Grabbing your phone from your bag to text Akaashi where he is

You; Akaashi, where are you? I'm waiting for you infront of the school building.

A minute passed and you receive his reply

Akaashi; I'm so sorry, love. Coach wants us to stay a little bit longer. Let's set the date on the other day.

You can feel something deep inside but you just sigh and type out your reply

You; Sure! See you then.

After hitting the send you didn't bothet looking at his reply and went straight home. You lay on your bed starring at the wall then remembered the words of your friend, you curled up into a ball and reassured yourself that this won't sway your relationship with him.

"____! I'm sorry for yesterday. Today, let's hang out?"

Akaashi spotted you at the cafeteria and excuse himself from the people his with

"Okay, I'll wait at the front."

You smiled and squeeze his hands before letting go and catching up with your friends. Afternoon came and you are back standing at the front of your building. This time, the sky was ruthless and it's raining cats and dogs. Your phone dings and you take a look who's it from

Akaashi; Hey, love. Don't wait for me because coach wants us to study some new moves and strategies. I'm so sorry :(

The grip you have on your phone is tight and there's this grueling feeling bubbling up inside you.

You; Sure, no problem.

Akaashi on the other hand knows that his being a complete jerk but he just can't leave his responsibilities too on his club. Not with the nationals around the corner. He already notes that after the national, he won't leave your side.

The next day Akaashi got the news that they don't have any practices today so he plan the date you guys will be having after school except you didn't show up. He went to your classroom only to be greeted by a harsh tone from your friend

"Are you a sadist? She's way too good for you, Akaashi. Be direct and tell her that you want to breakup."

And Akaashi didn't like one bit the words that came out from your friend's mouth

"Where is she?"

"Who knows? Though, I sure hope he finds someone better than you."

After school Akaashi went to your house right away but the one who answered the door is your father who looked a bit disappointed

"Is.. Is she home?"

He stuttered, fiddling with his hands then he heard your father sigh

"She's in the living room. Keiji, I like you for my daughter. Two days, she's been crying silently for two days. It hurts me to see her cry so please... take good care of her."

He felt his breath get stuck on his throat and all he could do is nod

"I'll leave you two alone."

Your father tap his shoulder and left the door open for him, Akaashi put his shoes on the side and slowly walk towards the living room. He cleared his throat to get your attention and you barely look at him

"What? Are you here to tell me to hang out with you then left me hanging?"

Your words cut deep and he hang his head low then he notice you standing up and stood infront of him.

"Tell me, Keiji. Did you date me because you took pity of me that day or you agreed because you really do like me?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Answer me!"

He lift his head and saw your tears threatening to drop

"Ofcouse it's because I like you! I love you more than anything!"

You exhaled and held his hand, whenever he starts to get nervous Akaashi will fiddle with his hands. You bring it close to your lips and kiss his hands on the knuckles

"If you have said that you pity me then I'd have let you go."

The action just now made his heart race that he lost control of his own body and crash his lips to yours. His gym bag dropping at the floor, strong arms wrap around you. Akaashi decides to just forget everything and just decides to pour all of his unsaid thoughts and words on this kiss his sharing with you

"I can't breath- Kei-"

"Shh, let me make it up to you."

You should be irritated on what he just said but seeing his ears red and how his barely having any control to himself, you know it's best to let him. He sat down on the couch and he pat his lap, you sat down and he wrap one arm around your waist and rest hid other hand at the back of your head and resumes the kiss

After some long minutes of making out, Akaashi pulled away and rest his head at the crook of your neck.

"If you would have let me go, I won't let you. I will get down on my knees and beg for you to love me back." He said softly

"Dummy.."

He laughs and press a sweet kiss on your neck, you two cuddled on the couch. He told you that their coach is letting them rest for the whole week so they'll have enough energy during nationals.

"I'm sorry for treating you poorly. I won't ever do it again, mark my word. If I ever did it, again, let your dad beat me up."

"Akaashi!"

There's a strange bond that your boyfriend and your dad shared and it all started when you introduced him to your dad.

"Akaashi? You were calling me Keiji moments ago."

"It slip off my tongue, Akaashi"

"Keiji. Call me Keiji.'

"No."

He pout his lips and you just laugh at him, he rest his palm on your tummy and began showering your face with kisses

"Stop- hahahaha stop it!"

"I won't."

His hands move at your neck and began tickling you there, his the only one who knows that you're ticklish on that spot

"Aahhh!! Stop! Fine, fine! Keiji pleaseeee!!"

"That's more like it, good girl."

He kiss your forehead before letting your head rest on his shoulders

"Your dad told me that you've been crying for two days... am such a jerk."

"It's okay now. I knew we would get through it anyways."

You look at him and he smiles softly at you, Akaashi leans forward to catch your lips and once again you two shared a passionate kiss that the both of you didn't notice the door opening, your dad returning.

"Holy-"

"Dad/Sir!"

"I did say to take care of her but aren't you guys too fast?"

You shot up from his lap and Akaashi stood awkwardly at your side

"To be young again~ just make sure I won't hear you guys on my room~"

"We won't be doing anything!"

Your dad just wave at the both of you and went upstairs, you let out a sigh and grab the bag of Akaashi and turn around only to find him fidgeting and hiding something..

"Keiji?"

"I- It was involuntary!"

Your eyes drop down to where his hands and you burst out laughing

"Stop laughing, baby! Fuck- can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure but don't you want my help?"

"No thanks! Love you though!

He hurriedly run past by you and left you laughing at him.

There was a doubt in your heart when you ask him that question but Akaashi prove to you how much he loves you. Actions do speak louder than words.

[average-kitty]

Complete Bliss 💕

p2!

Warnings: Lanuage

Summary: A rough day at work turns for the best

word count: 2k

Some people may call you crazy, which is completely understandable but how could you not be a little crazy for being in love with this girl? She seemed perfect, sweet, quiet, put together, knew how to take a stand for herself… The kind of girl who would put you in your place if necessary, your kind of girl. You always wanted to try and talk to her after class or even in class but- you just couldn’t, that little interaction all those weeks ago was all you could manage for a little while- which was pretty sad for anyone who was watching from the sidelines, but you didn’t care- maybe watching from afar was better than actually trying to do anything and accidentally ruining it.

But of course, some people wouldn’t let that slide- “You're STILL not talking to her?! Not even saying hi and bye in classes or the hallways?!-“ Your friend screamed through the phone speakers, making you jerk the phone away from your ear- You two had been friends for a while even though neither of you had even met in person, you two were like best friends. “It’s not even that serious-“ “IT IS!-“ she squealed, making you lower your phone again, rolling your eyes with a soft scoff before placing the phone near your ear again “Your insane.” “You're insane for letting opportunities like that slip everyday!” She hissed through the phone as you chuckled softly “Piper it’ll happen when it needs to…” “Well it needs to happen sooner Y/N, i'm getting hella inpatient. If you don’t make a move yourself I’m gonna fly my ass over and MAKE something happen!-""OKAY BYE PIPER I HAVE WORK-“ You hung up the phone and sighed,rolling your eyes before groaning. You knew Piper was right about you needing to make a move but you just weren’t sure if it was the right time.

You sat up on your bed, rubbing your head before setting your phone down on your mattress and getting up and walking to your closet grabbing a random shirt off its hanger and slipping out of your school clothes and into the older shirt for work. You walked over to your dresser and grabbed a pair of shorts before grabbing your phone off your bed and checked the time- you were late. “SHIT-“ you quickly shoved your phone into your pocket and stumbled over your feet, hitting the floor with a light thud- groaning out of pain and frustration before grabbing your shoes and pulling them on. Sure you were terrible at keeping track of time, courtesy of Piper- but you knew how to hurry when necessary. You rush out of the door and find yourself running half a mile and bursting through the back door of your work- panting heavily as you let your head hang, before looking up and meeting the eyes of one of your favorite coworkers- Sam.

“Geez what’s got you practically dying?-“ Sam questioned with a small chuckle as you groaned.

“I was running late- I had to run over here again…” You mumbled as Sam gave you a small sad smile.

“If you keep showing up late you know Rachel is gonna fire you right?-“ Sam questioned as she set down the box she was carrying and walked over to you and tried to help you fix the mess of yourself you had made in your hurry to get over there.

“Yeah, but Piper kept me longer than I was expecting-“ You responded as you face scrunched at Sam licking her finger and wiping away some of your leftover mascara that had smeared, earning a chuckle from her.

“She seems to do that a lot.” Sam replied calmly, as you gave a light nod, putting your hair up in a lazy bun and sighing softly.

“She’s my best friend Sam, we live too far apart for me to just not talk to her one day-“ 

“Your being too sweet.” Sam replied as you roll your eyes.

“We’re practically married okay? I have to give her some sort of attention.” You retorted with a small whine, as you clipped on your name tag and put on the stupid apron you were required to wear.

“Yeah yeah, since you were late you can go reorganize the shoes for me.” Sam said as she picked up the boxes she had put down earlier.

You almost wished you didn’t run all the way from your apartment to work- you hated reorganizing the shoes… but you gave Sam a nod and walked out of the employee break room and over to the shoe aisle- your eyes widening in the amount of dread and horror you were feeling. The aisles were in complete disarray, shoes on the floor, shoes mismatched, just about everything that would need to be fixed, needed to be fixed. You groan and swear under your breath before you begin to pick up all the shoes not on the shelves and in their boxes. It was gonna be a long afternoon…

What felt like 3 hours of picking up after all those inconsiderate people you were finally done, sweating a bit but satisfied with yourself. Sam walked past and saw the large smile on your face and snorted softly, walking over to you and placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Surprised you actually did it, looks a lot better.” You gave a nod and continued to smile and your work before turning around to look at Sam.

“I’m gonna go work at the register.” Sam gave a nod as you walked off to the register, flipping up the slab of wood that closed off the register to customers and took a seat at an open register, sighing softly. Most of the customers were manageable for the rest of the day, you were getting ready to leave for the day but one woman walked up to your register to set down her basket, you turned to look at her before biting at the insides of your cheeks but you began to scan her items. Down to the last few things you stumbled onto an unmarked bag, raising a brow as you grabbed it, looking on every side and even on the inside of the bag for a price tag but you couldn’t find it. You looked over to the computer at your side and looked up the bag’s brand- it wasn't there, which either meant it was new in stock hadn't been put out or she had put her bag in by accident. But it couldn’t be a accident- 

“Ma’am I can’t check this out for you…” You turned to look at her, as her brows narrowed.

“Yes you can!” She hissed, her voice was extremely bitter and made you flinch back a bit.

“There’s no price tag, and I can’t find it in our stock…” you mumbled, making the woman even anger, raising her voice even more.

“Then just give it to me!” “That’s against our policy, you went into the back and grabbed this bag. I'm going to have to ask you to leave…” You whimpered.

The woman seemed even more furious as she slammed her fist on the counter “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!-“ She growled, you were going to respond but she kept going. This continued for the next few minutes before Rachel,your manager stepped in. Luckily she was able to get the woman to leave but you weren’t able to leave early which was incredibly unfair. But you had to suck it up, you were muttering to yourself and cussing out Rachel for making you stay as you set the bag under the counter then- 

“Hello?-“ that sweet and familiar voice rang out, you immediately shot up- slamming your head on the bottom of the counter that sat the register on top, making you groan in pain as you lifted up completely- rubbing your head. Meeting Tara’s eyes, ones filled with worry for your voiced pain. 

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?!-“ She yelped as you tried to laugh off the pain, wincing at the new bruise forming on your head.

“Yeah I'm okay… uh- if you could just hand me your basket I’ll get that checked out for you..!” You nervously squeaked up, Tara nodding and handing you her basket. You took out the various pairs of sweats,hoodies, crop tops, and a bunch of other clothes and scanned all of them, your eyes trying to peer up to look up Tara but your mind refused to allow it. You finished scanning her items and bagged them up before leaning over to the register and reading the number out loud for her-

“135.45$, Uh cash or credit?” You looked up from the register and offered her a smile, which she returned to your surprise and spoke up with a soft giggle. 

“Credit, my sister works here so I should get a 15% discount.” Your eyes widened a bit as you turned the card reader to her for her to stick her card in.

“Oh really? W-well who’s your sister?” You questioned as curiosity ran through your voice, as you watched her hand move over to Sam- your eyes widening.

“Sam, you know her right?” You glanced back to Tara as she was smiling at you, making you give a nod.

“Y-yeah!- she’s a good friend of mine actually!” Tara hummed in response as you grabbed her recipient for her, looking for some way to try and keep the conversation going.

“Say, you're in Film Study right? We should compare notes sometime, i-i struggle with the class a little bit.” You're lying, you love that class more than anything when it comes to taking note of the small details, but it was an excuse nonetheless. Tara glanced up to you as she grabbed her bags of clothes, shrugging lightly.

“Maybe, I mean it’d be good for both of us.” You tried so hard to hide your smile as you give a nod.

“Yeah! Maybe tomorrow in class or some other time? I get off of work at 6-“

Suddenly she cut you off- “I said maybe.” 

You felt like you had overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know existed yet, you kept your smile to try and seem un-bothered but the hurt was clear in your voice.

“O-oh yeah- sorry, Makes sense.” You chuckled as you handed her recipient to her,Tara taking it in her own hand as your fingers grazed her, sending butterflies through your body. You swallow nervously as you get ready to leave for the day, another coworker walking up to take your register before Tara called out to you.

“Hey, maybe isn’t a no. I’ll think about it.” You turned your head slightly as she walked out, a wide smile spreading across your face as you tried to keep yourself from squealing, practically skipping back to the break room. You took off your apron and name tag, stuffing them both in your locker as Sam walked in, making you freeze in your tracks. 

“What’s got you all excited?” She scoffed, looking you up and down, as you turned around.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!- anyways I’ve gotta go! See you tomorrow Sammy!” You bolted out the back door, before quickly coming back and grabbing your phone.

“Sorry I forgot this-“ before Sam could even get a word in, you slammed the door again- she didn’t get what sparked your sudden change in attitude but she was sure it was for some good reason. You walked down the street to your apartment,smiling the whole way as you blew up Piper’s phone- sending a text every other second as you tried to get home as quickly as possible. You rush to the elevator of your apartment building and rush in, quickly stepping in as you continue to blow up Piper’s phone, praying to god she hadn’t fallen asleep. As you stepped in your apartment room Piper finally responded, giving you the go ahead to call her- she sounded groggy and pissed off.

“Why did you send me 186 texts….. this better be good-“ she muttered.

“It is! Remember how we were talking about Tara earlier today? Well something happened-“ you were about to drop the bomb that you had gotten a date of sorts with Tara but Piper’s idea of what happened was completely different from what you expected…

“DID YOU TWO FUCK?!-“ She practically screamed as your face flushed a deep red.

“PIPER!-“ You hissed, covering your face with your hands. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!-“

“Wait was I wrong?” She squeaked.

“WELL DUH-“

did you guys like this one?-

[gauntlets-shot]

Knowing your partner well can potentially make writing together a lot easier

Name: Royal

Pronouns: She/they

Preference of communication: Discord since its more mobile friendly than tumblr IMs

Name of muse(s): Vi and Caitlyn Kiramman

Experience/how long (months/years?): Geez uhh I wanna say...less than a decade but more than 5 years. I did have breaks within those 5ish years though, different fandoms/lost muse/school were the primary reasons

Best experience: Just one? Hm well I'd probably just vaguely say some 1x1s on discord. At that time, I was writing OCs and most of them were wlw ships and ofc I'm a sucker for wlw content so yeah, being able to expand my own OCs and discover other people's was (is) really fun!

RP pet peeves/dealbreakers: It's not really a pet peeve or a deal breaker but one liners. Can't really work with them, I need a little meat to give something fun back haha. Also implementing major character changes into a thread/RP without discussing first, for example killing my muse or vice versa. I'd really love a heads up or if we talk about it first. Adding onto that but this is obvious, godmodding. Please don't control my muse to the point where I can't put in some action/help roll the thread/RP along for the both of us

Muse preference (fluff, angst or smut?): A N G S T! Forgive me my muses, but I am such a sucker for angst. Breaking them down is fun in such a twisted way but I love delving into all that drama, what makes muses tick, what makes them throw everything aside for one person/purpose

Plots or memes: Plots! Even if there is a vague discussion of what we wanna do, I love planning little details/background info for our muses/RP

Long or short replies: This one I actually had to think about as I love both. That being said, I'd probably prefer longer replies (from me or the other party) since every juicy detail is packed in and I can better envision what our muses are doing/going through. The emotion of our muses in a thread really comes out the longer it is, though of course I would never expect anybody to write to a certain degree

Best time to write: Night. I can't focus for most of the day so when everything is dark and I'm left alone with some good music, I can write for hours (and completely wreck my sleep schedule but shhh)

Are you like your muse(s): Somewhat. I'd like to think I am a nice mix of both Caitlyn and Vi. I sure as hell am not as smart as Caitlyn but I'd like to think I'm as analytical as she is. And for Vi, well...I'm a masc lesbian. That's all you need to know lmfao

Tagged by: @ferinehuntress

Tagging: @everybodysenemies, @tealsteel and anybody else that wants to!

[fwitolei]

Howdy! For the WIP Tag Game, the Bluejay title story really intrigues me! So here are a few questions: What's the fic going to be about? What's the significance of the title 'Bluejay'? What are some things you can talk about regarding the whole new planet you made? (because that sounds really cool and any lore on it is greatly appreciated!) That is all, hope you have a nice day/night! 🩵💫

Sorry for the late reply lol. I'm so excited you asked!

I'll try not to spoil too much lmao---

Bluejay is going to be about my Bad Batch oc, Jaye N'Cante, and the story of her of how she became a medic for the GAR (So it's technically a Clone Wars fic). I'm going to include a lot of lore from her home planet, Gradine, and the war's effects on her indigenous people.

I haven’t fully fleshed out this concept yet, but the people of Gradine have a culture that involves tattoos, resulting in Jaye and her family having their family crest on their backs; a Gradinean bluebird. So something something spoilers she ends up adopting the name “Jaye” in honor of both her family crest and some friends she meets along the way ;)

Gradine is an island planet in the Middle Rim that was colonized by the Republic hundreds or thousands if years ago (i have yet to choose), but Jaye’s people (the natives) have lived in relative peace away from the colonies. The colonies built a city on a distant archipelago that Jaye’s people refer to as the “Metal City.” When the Clone War started, the Republic sends troopers to occupy the village “for their safety,” causing much unrest between the city folk and natives.

I’ve taken inspiration on Native American, Hawaiian, a bits of Indian culture to mix it all up into some kind of beachy warrior culture that you will see on Gradine. They have a chief-family type of government, but there’s quite a history behind it:

The natives of Gradine were first brought about by a magical figure called Ashla, who created the village and made them the people they are today. This Ashla wielded a strage power called The Gift, and it is said that they who possess the Gift were chosen by Ashla to lead the people to prosperity.

And with no context at all, there’s your subplot of Bluejay :D

Geez this was longer than I intended—

I’m planning on putting together a timeline of the planet’s history, which will inclide all kinds of tidbits on Jaye’s culture. Thanks for the ask, I hope you enjoyed my overly-extensive rant 🌻

[holycrimin]

It hurts to love.

Karl heisenberg x male!reader

Tags: Hanahaki and angst

SFW

(Note: In this au, none of the main events happen with ethan, as he is not in this story. Also SPOILER WARNING.)

(Warning: probably shitty plot, but i'm trying my best ok)

[Your pov]

It all started a year or two ago, when mother miranda had found me lurking around the village. As i was not a local, she deemed me suspicous. However, before she had the chance to kill me, She had a spark in her eye. As if she had an idea. And before i knew it she was using me as some sort of vessel for her daughter, Eva. Although i am a male, she had seen something special in me apparently. I had also found out that her daughter had passed away and she was determined to bring her back.

It failed.

The experiment... failed.

I was no longer deemed useful.

She had proposed me two options. become a servant or assistant to one of the lords, or die. A slow, and painful death.

Of course I chose to be an assistant.

She was kind enough to let me choose who to work for, thankfully.

Lady dimitrescu was very much intimidating. And from what I've heard, if you mess up even just a little while working for her, you will be sent to the dungeons. Never to be seen again. And she isnt really fond of men, so I wont be choosing her.

Next up was Donna Beneviento. She was nice, although her doll 'Angie' is a little... how do I say this... creepy. It doesnt help that i have a huge fear of mannequins and dolls, so I dont think i'll be choosing her anytime soon.

And then theres Salvatore Moreau, dont get me wrong he's a great guy but.. he might accidentally drown me. I might be overreacting, but the guy smells. Although, I feel bad that he's treated so poorly by the other Lords, but i think it's for the best if i stay away from him.

And.. i guess my only option left is Lord Heisenberg. I just hope that he wont be that much of a hassle, even if he IS kind of an asshole...

A day before i start working at the factory, Mother Miranda forced us to spend the day together. To 'get to know eachother' I assume.

Lord Heisenberg looked pissed off, he wasn't really fond of me. He was more pissed off at Mother miranda though. Most likely because he was forced to spend time with me. I quickly learned what he called the 'basics of him'. Basically, common facts. Such as, the fact that he can bend metal and his deep hatred for Mother Miranda. that was basically all that he told me.

The following day was my first day at the factory. As we were walking along the factory, he stopped in his tracks. "Listen pup, there's rules." He practically growled. "First of all, Don't touch my shit. Second of all, don't go around the factory without me knowing. And third of all, Don't try to get to know me, we're keeping a proffessional relationship, got it?" He said.

"Uh.. y-yes Lord Heisenberg." I very nervously stammered, lightly blushing at the nickname he gave me.

"Good, now let's get to work."

Present day

That was around a year or two ago, and while i have gotten closer to the other lords, i never managed to get to get close to Lord Heisenberg. And..

I'm an idiot who fell for him... And... I know he'll never feel the same way. I've tried getting his attention, impressing him, but... nothing's working. Every time i try to get close to him, wether it's emotionally or physically. I get pushed away, literally and figuratively.

It's my fault really. I fell inlove with a man who was emotionally closed off. His charisma, his voice, everything about him just makes me fall more and more inlove with him.

I know i wont have a chance, hell, i dont even know if he's into guys... Guess i really am an idiot, huh?

Later that day, Lord Heisenberg asked me to help him with something. I agreed of course, and during that time I tried to know him more. "Jesus christ, are you trying to get me to open up or something? Cause' that's not gonna happen, so give it up." He spat out, "a-ah... sorry Lord Heisenberg.." I stammered out.

A few minutes of silence pass. Suddenly, he grabbed my hands. "I- ugh.. Just- you're doing it wrong. Here, let me help." He said, while holding my hands 'teaching me how to do it right'.

Of course my face started heating up, the feeling of his slightly roughed up hands on mine... it feels nice. Although this is probably the only time i'll ever get close to him.

"Hey pet, you ok? Geez, you're practically as red as a tomato." He said, while still holding my hands. "Uh.. y-yeah..! Uhm... i.. i'm good.." i stuttered, feeling his breath on top of my head. He was bigger and taller than me after all.

"Well, whatever you say, pup." He shrugged as he continued his work. I got a little flustered on the nickname, i never got used to that..

After, he went and ordered me to get supplies fron the duke.

As i was walking along the pathway to the duke, a few lycans were following me. They didnt seem to be attacking, so i just left them alone. However when i reached the duke, the lycans were gone. How strange.

"Well well well, if it isn't Heisenbergs pet! What brings you here, young man?" He says, with a shit eating grin. "Ah.. well, i'm just here for some supplies is al-" i was then cut off with a series of coughs, "Oh my, are you alright?" said the duke, genuinely concerned. "O-oh i'm fine i ju-" i was then cut off by another series of coughs, but just when i stopped, a small white flower petal came out of my mouth.

"Oh dear, i hope this isn't what i think it is... Are you sure you are alright?" Asked the duke. "I.. i dont know," i pause and look at the small flower petal in my hand. "do you know what's happening..?" I questioned him, very much confused. "It may be something called the 'Hanahaki disease'. It was said to just be an urban legend. Where, if you were suffering from unrequited love, you would begin to cough up flower petals." He explained. "I didnt think it was real.." he muttered to himself.

"..." i was silent as i stared in shock and horror, I'm.. coughing up flowers..? Like actual, real flowers...?

From.. unrequited love.... i should've known, i... i should've known that he would never feel the same way.

How could i be so stupid, to think he would fall for a mere mortal like me. Or atleast.. i think i'm mortal. "Well," the duke spoke up, "luckily there are two ways you can get rid of the sickness." My eyes lit up, "the person you like, either loves you back," he continued "or, you can get surgery. Not only will it remove the flowers, it also removes all of your feelings for this particullar person permanently."

"Th-that's great! I can finally get this 'hanahaki' disease while also getting rid of my feelings for him-!"

"Him?" The duke asked as he cut me off, "do you mean Lord Heisenberg?"

"Uh-" as i think about him, i start coughing again. This time, blood was spilling over. And so were many petals. "Oh dear.. so just the mere thought of him triggers it..?" He said, concerned. "Uh... i'll just... take the supplies. Thank you though, duke."

"No problem, stay safe. But remember, the longer you wait around with the flowers still inside you, the worse your state will become." He informs me,

"I'll try to get the surgery as fast as possible duke." I said, waving him goodbye.

As soon as i walked out, those same lycans followed me all the way back to the factory. Strange isn't it? Anyway, when you finally arrived at the factory, supplies in hand, I hear Lord Heisenberg open up the door.

"Here, let me help you with those." He says as he starts taking some of the bags.

"...Why are you being so nice all of a su-sudden?" I stammer as i try to hold in a cough. "Would you rather not have me nice, pup?" he growled. As i opened my mouth to speak, i was interrupted but a fit of coughs. Blood spilt out as did the petals. Heisenberg didn't seem to notice as he was already far ahead.

I try to cover it up as much as i can as i try to catch up with him. "Jeez.. Finally, you caught up-" he cut himself off. "Why is there blood on your face?" He said, slightly concerned. I froze. "Uh.." that was all i could say. "Whatever.." he said as he wiped the blood away from my face. A faint blush spread accross my cheeks.

I excused myself to the bathroom as i felt another fit of coughs. More blood splattered out as well as more petals. God it hurts. I heard a knock on the door. "Hey pet, you've been there a while, you sure you're alright?" He said

"Uh- yeah, i-i'm fine..!" I said, trying to hold in my coughs. "Well just make it quick, we have work to do." "Yes sir..!" I reply back quickly, not wanting to upset him. I quickly cleaned myself up and walked out of the bathroom. "Took you long enough." He sighed, annoyed. He went ahead and grabbed his hammer, dragging it along the metal floors. It was loud enough for him to not hear you cough up more petals.

~later that week~

My condition kept getting worse and worse, to the point i was barely able to breath. I've consulted the duke, however nothing seemed to work. No matter how much medicine, herbs or other medicinal items i jammed into my body, it just won't go away.

I was asked to come over Lady Dimitrescus castle, i'm not exactly sure why. Maybe she heard of this 'hanahaki' disease?

As i make my way to the castle, lycans started to follow me. Even more than before, why was this happening?

I finally arrive at the castle, the lycans seem to be watching me very carefully. I hear the doors open, and out came a tall lady. "Ah, Y/N! I'm glad you came! Come in." She said, holding the door open for me.

I walked in and was immediately tackled with a hug. "Uncle Y/N! You came!" Exclamed Daniela, one of Lady Dimitrescus daughters. "Oh, uh... hello Daniela." I say, hugging back. I never imagined them to warm up to me. "Now now Daniela, me and your Uncle Y/N have something to discuss."

"Aww man... well, i'll see you around Uncle Y/N!" She waved goodbye to me. "I'll see you around, Daniela." I say as i wave back. As soon as her footsteps were no longer in range, i spoke up. "So.. what did you want to talk about..?" I carefully asked the tall woman, not wanting to be sliced to bits. "Well, as i said before, the duke has informed me of something related to your wellbeing."

"So... you've heard about this.. 'hanahaki' disease, i assume...?" I say as i tense up even more. "The duke told me about it, and when i asked why he was informing me about this, he simply stated it had something to do with you. So tell me, do you have it?" She asked me with a concerned expression.

"W-well.. I-.." i say, sighing. "Yes, as far as i know." I reply, not wanting to lie to her. "As much as i dislike that wretched man, Heisenberg, i must ask, is he the object of your affection?" I froze. "Well... uh-" i cut myself off as i break into a fit of coughs growing more and more violent than the last. "Oh dear- MAIDS!" She called out, panicking, as blood and petals fall out of my mouth. She patted my back as i continue to cough. "So... it is Heisenberg.. I am terribly sorry Y/N i did not know this would happen.." she said, apologetically.

"I-it's alright-" i break into another fit of coughs. But instead of petals, this time, there were fully grown flowers. "i.. i can't b-breath.." i say almost blacking out. The last thing i see and hear are the maids, Lady Dimitrescu shouting to get the duke, and the door opening to reveal... Lord Heisenberg..? "Goddammit, out of my way-!" Was the last thing i heard before blacking out.

•

•

°

.

.....

I woke up to the duke. I sat upright, "what... happ-" i was then cut off by the duke. "You're awake! Honestly, i.. didnt know if you would wake up.." he said sadly. "Thankfully, i was able to patch you up just fine. And after days and hours of research, i finally found an alternative to your hanahaki!" The duke said, switching from a sad, to a cheerful mood.

My eyes light up, "W-wait, really!?" I said as a smile creeps up on my face. The duke gives me a small bottle, "Here, take this. Free of charge!" He said as he smiles brightly. "Now, you should drink it as soon as possible. Lord Heisenberg is waiting for you outside."

"I will, thank you duke!" I said as i waved him goodbye. As I walked to the gates, I take the small bottle and drink it. Within seconds, the flowers were gone. I could finally breath again!

Walking out with a small smile, I saw Lord Heisenberg. "Oh, hey-!.. uh.. i mean, hey. You're awake, lets... get back to the factory..." he stammered out.

..

Was it just me, or were there tears on his face..?

The walk to the factory was silent, but as we walk up to the factory gates, he stops dead in his tracks. "Before we go in, I just uh.. wanted to let you know that the duke let me know about how you really felt about me." He said. "And.. after a long time of thinking about it.." he cuts himself off as his cheeks turn red,

"...I like you too." He confesses.

But,

I don't feel any different.

I don't have butterflies in my stomach.

I don't even feel my face heating up.

It was like...

I was never inlove with him in the first place.

"I... I'm sorry, Lord Heisenberg... but.. I dont feel the same way anymore. I think... it was that small bottle the duke gave me, but.. I am sorry, i don't feel the same way." "W-wait.. you're.. you're joking, right...?" I watch as his expression goes from flustered to heartbreak. "..." i grow silent.

"Let's... let's get inside... we'll catch a cold if we don't." I say, opening the doors to the factory, not wanting the situation to get more awkward. "...Y... yeah... just, gimme a minute.." he says as his voice was slightly shaking. "Alright.. just... please be quick, you'll get a cold." I said, walking in and closing the door on him.

[Heisenbergs pov]

"I... I'm sorry, Lord Heisenberg... but.. I dont feel the same way anymore. I think... it was that small bottle the duke gave me, but.. I am sorry, i don't feel the same way."

"W-wait.. you're.. you're joking, right...?" I say with my voice slightly shaking. Dammit.. god... fucking...

DAMMIT...!

Just when i thought i finally found the love of my life, he's stripped away from me.

"..." he was silent.

I could feel the heartbreak slowly filling me up.

"Let's... let's get inside... we'll catch a cold if we don't."

"...Y... yeah... just, gimme a minute.." i stammer while i try not to break down infront of him.

"Alright.. just... please be quick, you'll get a cold." He says, as he walks in and shuts the door. Heh.. it's cute how he still worries about me when..

Nevermind.

I need some time to thi-

My thoughts were interrupted when i started to violently cough. What i didn't expect though...

Was a flower petal.

"..."

"Heh..."

"So this is what he felt." I said, as i look at the bloody flower petal in my hand.

[plaidbooks]

Rough Beginnings

A/N: So! This idea spawned after reading @cycat-carisi​ story, We. Please read that first, then come back here for this prequel! This also covers the Mafia square in @adarafaelbarba​ moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of a prostitution ring, talks of murder and mafia-related goings-on

Words: 1964

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​  @beccabarba​  @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @permanentlydizzy​ @ben-c-group-therapy​  @infiniteoddball​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @alwaysachorusgirl​  @glimmerglittergirl​ @joanofarkansass​ @caracalwithchips​ @berniesilvas​​  @reading--mermaid​  @averyhotchner​  @mrsrafaelbarba​ @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @dreamlover31​

(gif by @resparza​ )

Sonny never hated his job more than when he went undercover. He had hated when he was posing as a homeless man with an eye for children, but this was worse. So. Much. Worse.

His cover story for this job was that he was part of the Italian mob, and he had been hired on as security for a prostitution ring; some huge network that was international but had its roots right here in Manhattan. Him, along with multiple real mafia members, were in charge of transporting girls, drugs, and anything else the head honcho told them to.

It had been three months since he went under; his beard itched his face still, his leather jacket was starting to be uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of these bastards down. But they didn’t have enough yet. So, he had to stick it out a little longer—at least, that’s what he told himself. A little longer, a little longer. He wasn’t sure how much “little longer” he had left in him.

Sonny lived in the housing quarters his boss supplied him, along with three other mafia guys. He had almost zero contact with the world outside his job—all the information he gathered was sent in a coded text from a burner. But he was starting to miss his friends and family. At least his employer understood that as part of the Italian mob, Sonny was allowed to go to church on Sundays…if there wasn’t something big happening.

His saving grace came a month later, while standing guard at his boss’s door. A woman he’d seen before came stomping up to him, and he braced himself; he knew that look.

“Let me see my father,” you snarled.

Sonny rose his hands defensively. “I was given orders ta not let anyone in. That includes you,” he replied, crossing his arms once more and trying to puff out his chest. But you simply glared at him.

“Fuck you; let me in, before I force my way in,” you growled.

He chuckled, eyeing you. “Ya really think you can get passed me? Let’s see ya try, doll.”

You gave him another impressive glare before trying to lunge passed him, reaching for the handle. Sonny caught you easily around your midsection, lifting you and placing you down at arm’s length in front of him.

“That the best ya got?” he teased. This wasn’t the first time you tried to brute force your way passed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

You let your bottom lip quiver, tears appearing in your eyes. “Pl-please, sir, let m-me see my—” you trailed off, sniffling loudly.

“Ah geez, don’t be doing that. Come on; he’s in a meeting and will be out soon. Just wait a lil, okay?” he said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

But you didn’t stop, letting the tears trail down your cheeks. You let out a loud sob, and Sonny wanted to rip his hair out; he didn’t need a tantrum with daddy’s spoiled brat right now. He internally winced at that; he didn’t really believe that that was what you were, but when you came up here, trying to cry your way in, his mind went there.

You let out another loud sob. “Please, doll, I promise ta let him know as soon as he’s free—” Sonny started, but he was cut off by the door behind him opening. He stood at attention—like a good little lapdog—and the man who was having a meeting with his employer came out. He took one look at you, then left, rolling his eyes. You quickly wiped your face with your shirt before your dad appeared.

“And what are you doing here?” your father asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Sonny felt bad for you, but said nothing, gave away no emotions on his face as you requested to speak with him, privately.

He nodded, and Sonny moved out of the way, letting you enter, the door closing softly behind you both. He released a breath; it was always high tension after a meeting. But Sonny also found himself feeling sorry for you, having a father like that. He was hoping that when the walls came down, you’d at least be spared; you had no real idea of your father’s business, how big and deep it ran.

The meeting between you and your father didn’t last long, and soon enough, the door was opening once more behind him.

“Sonny; drive my daughter home. Giuliano will cover you until you're back,” your father ordered.

Sonny nodded, letting you pass him before following you. He kept his emotions in check, but he saw the look on your face; sadness, betrayal, and fear. He vaguely wondered what you had talked about but didn’t want to pry; he could be fired or worse for it.

It wasn’t until halfway through the drive to your place that he asked if you were okay.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, staring out the window.

Sonny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut; the words just spilled out. “Ya father is a hard man. I’m sorry ya have ta deal with that.” It was a mistake, he knew; if you were indeed loyal to your father, then saying that out loud was a good way to end up dead.

You blinked in surprise at his bluntness, and for his apology. “Y—yeah, he is. I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that, though.”

He nodded. “Uh, how ‘bout makin’ it our little secret, then?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that you’d say nothing about this to him.

“Our little secret…. Yeah, okay,” you replied dryly, eyes going back to the window.

 *******************

After that conversation, Sonny’s boss would often send him to you, whether to drive you or as extra protection—more like babysitting, to Sonny. But he found that he couldn’t complain; it was the only time he could be close to his true self…plus it was safer and better than doing other, illicit things. Even if he should be doing those things for intel. And of course, he never slipped up like he had on that first car ride. No, he was Sonny from the Italian mob, not the soft-hearted detective. He held you at arm’s length, determined to not let the mask slip. But something about you got to him, and he found himself afraid of you. Afraid that he’d make a mistake, and that you would see right through him.

“Sonny, why do you do this job?” you asked one day while he was driving you home. It had been over a month since your father had basically assigned Sonny to you.

He tried to stay neutral, but you saw how he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “’Cause it’s a job. I was hired.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it,” you replied, smiling.

His jaw tightened. “Nah, see, when my boss tells me ta do somethin’, I do it.”

“You’re not like the rest, though. The others, I see murder in their eyes. They have such dark thoughts; it’s almost like they’re hoping my father gives them a kill order,” you explained. True, your father told you that they were security guards for his business, but you never bought that story; they were more like murderers than security. The day when Sonny kept you out of your father’s office was the first time you noticed that he was different; his eyes were soft, and he talked to you like a person, rather than making vaguely concealed threats. He seemed to genuinely care when you started to fake cry, even though you knew that he knew it was fake.

His bright blue eyes met with yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “We don’t kill—”

“Stop lying to me, Sonny. Please. I deserve to know what’s going on,” you said, a slight begging tone in your voice.

So that confirmed it; you had no idea what your father was capable of. Sonny swallowed, wanting this conversation to end. “Talk ta ya father, not me—”

“I’ve tried! Multiple times! I’m not an idiot; I know he’s shady as hell. But just what are you protecting?”

“If he’s not willin’ ta tell ya, then that should tell ya somethin’, right?” he asked. He pulled over in front of your art studio, putting the car in park and getting out. You thought about his words; it was more than you got from anyone else. To be honest, Sonny always gave you more than anyone else; he didn’t sneer at you, ignore you, call you names like “brat”. And he definitely didn’t look at you with hungry eyes or creepy smiles. He seemed like…like a generally good person, all things considered. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but you noticed you had developed a crush on him.

All too soon, Sonny was opening the door for you to get out. You thanked him as you exited the car, and felt his presence behind you as you climbed the stairs to the door. He always walked you there, to make sure you were safe.

You unlocked and opened the door, then turned around to face him. He gave you a nod and you thanked him again. But something possessed you in that moment; why else would you have grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you in a kiss?

Sonny froze in place, eyes wide, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back. You looked up at him, the apology dying on your tongue; you weren’t sorry at all. That kiss was worth it in your eyes. But there was an almost…pained? look in Sonny’s eyes.

“D-doll, we can’t—ya father—”

“Never has to know,” you finished for him.

He blinked, obviously warring with himself, and you were sure you knew why; if your father found out about you two, he could have Sonny killed. But, if Sonny felt the same way about you that you did about him, then maybe, just maybe, he could help you escape from under your father. Something about him was safe, trustworthy.

Slowly, you reached up to cup his face. When he didn’t pull away, you gently leaned in again, kissing him slowly, tenderly. He paused for only a moment before he melted against your lips. Then he gently pulled away from you.

“I—I gotta—” He didn’t finish his thought before he turned and hurried down the stairs. You watched him go, hoping that he’d say nothing to your father.

The car door slammed shut and Sonny was quick to turn the car on and leave. What the fuck was he doing, letting you kiss him? And then he kissed you back?! He must be a fucking idiot! Sure, he liked you—more than he was willing to admit—but this could blow his cover. Not to mention get him killed, cover blown or not. Plus, he was lying to you; any feelings you felt weren’t for him but for the façade he put on.

He resolved to keep his distance from you; nothing good could come from any of this. It ended in one of two ways: you, heartbroken over Sonny’s lies, or him buried six feet under in some lot. There was no way to disobey your father if he ordered him to take you home, so there was no avoiding you. Sonny would just have to lay down the rules next time he saw you; absolutely no relationship could exist, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

[kyyuri]

not what it seems || part seven

senior ! hwang hyunjin x junior! female y/n

lower caps intended

word count: 850

warnings: slight cursing ? like only word sh*t tho…

a/n: ahhh >//< sorry for the late update but its finally here ! soooo enjoy ! pls do try to interact with my posts as much as possible thank you !

taglists are open as long as i can tag your user !

[ six ] [masterlist ]

the past few days were pretty horrible considering how badly you probably flunked your exams. you were mentally drained and dreaded school so much now. he used to be your motivation to push on and continue school but you barely even interacted with him anymore. it was affecting you more than you realise. after your last exam, you patted your friend on the shoulder, “im going to get a drink.” and with that you left to go get some coffee milk from the convenience store. much to your luck, hyunjin was there too, however he was completely unaware of your presence. “ya hyunjin.” han could be heard playfully smacking hyunjin on the arm. you froze in your steps immediately and took cover behind the shelves that stood perfectly behind the group of friends.

hyunjin hummed in reply. the grip on your coffee milk tightened. you didnt know what to do, it was always awkward whenever you met him with his group of friends. “what are you going to do about her ? you’re graduating soon and you’re not gonna be seeing her as often.” it sounded like felix was the one saying it. “heck- you think i dont know ?!” hyunjin raised his voice slightly in frustration. “ i dont know what to do okay ? i dont even know if she feels the same way.” he continued. “you’re smart enough to be in this school and yet youre not smart enough to figure out what to do with your undying love ? geez hyunjin, are you kidding me ?” what sounded like seungmin, chimed in. “just confess to her ? if she doesn’t like you, there are plenty of other fishes in the sea that are yearning to be able to be called yours.” han joked. “but they’re not her...” hyunjins voiced trailed off. you were secretly hoping that they would at least mention the name of his crush once but after so long, they still didnt, much to your disappointment.

another part of you hoped that they would leave soon. does it even take that long to decide what snacks to get ? at that moment you got a text from your friend, looking at your phone, it read [where are you ?] [we are thinking of leaving soon ] you typed back [im almost done] [just wait for a little more] [i promise], you press sent and grabbed a samgak kimbap along with your previous coffee milk. you sighed and took in your “final” breath before heading to the counter. you could feel eyes staring at your back as you placed the items down, handing the cashier 7000won before leaving the store, trying your best to look relaxed. after all, who wouldn’t be nervous after eavesdropping ?

“shit shit shit..”hyunjin ran his hand through his hair. “i screwed up this time, didn’t i ?” his friends, feeling guilty, nodded their head slowly. it was partially their fault after all. he ditched his snacks into the hands of han, “you’re paying.” and judging by the tone of his voice, he dare not say no. hyunjin rushed out of the convenience store, looking for any traces of you. it was too late. your figure that stands out particularly was no longer in sight. wild thoughts ran through his mind. what if you misunderstood ? though they never mentioned any names, it was easy to misunderstand considering the number of girls he is friends with, the possibilities are countless at this point.

“y/n ? are you alright ? you’re spacing out.” your friend waved a hand in front of your face. you snapped back to reality and nodded before slipping away into your own thoughts again. he definitely likes someone, more than in a ‘friends’ kind of way. but who could possibly be the lucky girl you were dying to be ? could it be the girl you saw him with the other day ? or his really cute table mate ? you were unsure. but there was one thing you were definitely sure about. no matter who that girl is…… it wont be you.

“y/n ! are you sure you’re alright ? this is the fourth time in a row we’ve called your name.” all concerned eyes fall upon you. you forced a slight smile. “im feeling a little tired… i think i’ll head home first.” you bid them farewell before heading to the bus stop. there was about a five minute wait before the next bus would arrive so you busied yourself by listening to some music. unknown to you, hyunjin spotted you a while ago but couldn’t approach you due to the presence of your friends. he stood next to the commercial board of the bus stop, leaning the upper half of his body against the board. he watched the way your head subtly sway to the music blasting through your airpods and the little dances your feet does everything the chorus of a song comes around. it was those little details of you that he noticed that made him realise… he has fallen in too deep.

[eight]

taglist 💌: @ninjaleeknow @97lovestay @oifelixcmerebrou @freckledquokka @toxiccyubin

all works here are strictly mine. please do not translate or steal them without permission. © kyyuri

[lazuli-bloom]

Gas Station Souvenir

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 3868

General fiction, first meeting

You work a few shifts at a shitty gas station off the interstate only to have something follow you.

--=--=--

Creeping darkness snuffed out the remnants of sunlight, and the twilight hours did not flatter that rundown gas station. Ignored grime fermented in the corners. The air carried the harsh scent of chemical cleaners and the pungent odors they failed to mask. The gas station sat cut off from society and seeping in growing shadows. It invoked a buzz of disquiet at the edge of your thoughts. It’s a place where it’s best to keep stops brief. Where the longer one stayed there, the stranger the place became.

But there you were, skulking the aisles of an eerie gas station. Dressed in clothes that could use a wash, with a name-tag pinned to your hoodie.

You needed money, and this place let you pick up a few shifts. They payed cash and didn’t ask too many questions, which was right up your alley. The pay wasn’t anything to write home about. Then again, nothing warranted contact with that lot.

Two weeks of shifts would bankroll you across a few more states. Your first day came with a warning from the full-time clerk training you; if you see anything strange, or unusual, ignore it. Pretend like you never saw it. Also, to stay away from the raccoons. The ones near the gas station were a lot meaner than most.

For most of your shifts, that was a rule you stuck to. It was a good rule to have. One that you really should follow. But on your last shift at the gas station, you broke that rule.

It was late into that last shift where yours overlapped with the night cashier. Running out of things to do, you started cleaning up the counters. You didn’t think you’d make much headway with cleaning, but it helped pass the time.

You reached the coffeepot’s counter and got to cleaning. Empty sugar and creamer packets all discarded into the trash. Amid wiping down spills, you noticed an oddity wedged between containers. A simple business card.

Unease urged you to leave it alone. Throw away the card and forget about it. That would be the smart decision. However, curiosity had other plans. It drove you to pick it up and look the card over. It was a business card, after all. How strange could that really be?

The card’s yellowed paper frayed at the corners. It advertised the services of a “Bio-Exorcist” but had no contact information. The only other detail was an unusual word printed three times. Not much to go off of.

You meander to the front counter, trying your damnedest to decipher that word.

“Beh-tel... Gi-use?” the syllables came out more like a question. A question that caught the attention of the full-time cashier. He glanced up from his book and asked what you said. “Just trying to read this.”

He sat down his book to look over the card.

“Bio-Exorcist? Like some kind of pest control? We have a few guys come in occasionally and do what they can, but the bugs and mice always come back. And snakes.”

“Weird way to phrase it. Maybe they’re trying to make it sound fancy? But that’s not what stumped me, it’s the word on there three times. You know what that says?”

“It’s a star in Orion.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve come across it a few times in some of the sci-fi novels I’ve read. It’s pronounced like Beetle-Juice.”

A frigid breeze chilled the two of you mere moments after he answered your question. Both of you turned to the front door, expecting a customer walking in and letting in the cool night air. But there was nothing. He handed you back the card and picked his book up.

“You should just throw that card away and forget about it.”

You want to ask why, but the question dies in your throat. You already knew why. Ignore the strange. Pretend it isn’t there, so it doesn’t cause you trouble. That hitchhiker you passed by several times and never saw him in the rear-view mirror? He seemed alright on his own. The lady at the shitty motel chilling the air on her way passed you to the pool? She obviously wanted to go swimming. That man you saw crawling on the ceiling during your stint here. None of your business. They had their problems, and you had your own.

Still, there was something nagging at you whenever you looked at the card. Something. Was it actually a something? Your burning curiosity? It almost felt as if it was someone telling you to keep the card, at least for a little while longer.

Once your co-worker was back to reading his novel, you looked over the card one more time. You mutter under your breath the name of the star, only to shiver when another strange rush of cold air crashed over you. You slip the card into your hoodie’s pocket and head to a spot of the gas station that wouldn’t give you chills.

The rest of your shift trudged along slower and slower. The closer to your freedom it got, the slower the seconds crept by. Customers became sparse, not helping stop time from dragging its feet. The only thing that you could do to pass the time was to keep up the futile effort of cleaning the counters. That and keep tabs on the one guy lingering in the gas station.

Said guy looked to be another of the ignore and forget them variety. His appearance alone was enough of a tipoff. Dirty suit in a black and white stripe pattern matched oddly with messy green hair. What hit home the message of “mind your own business” was the fact that you caught a glance of the guy gliding through the shelves. Nope. You may have been struggling to find things to do, but dealing with whatever Mr. Stripe Suit was up to was out of your pay grade.

Finally, the end of your shift was upon you. You took off your name tag and slammed it down on the counter to get the cashier’s attention. A grin plastered your face as you turned over the name tag. You asked for your pay, and he handed you your money. You count it to yourself before stuffing it into your pocket. Once all squared away, you waved him a quick farewell.

“Have fun with the stripe suit guy, He’s been looking at all the garbage snacks on the shelves for the past hour,” You mention maybe a little louder than you should have. But you weren’t sticking around, so who cares?

You get out to your car, where there were thankfully no raccoons trying to eat your tires, and hop in. It may have been getting late, but you wanted to at least get a few towns over before you stop at a motel for that night.

The motel you came across was on the cheaper end, but it was “good enough”. You quickly got your room squared away and after a sweep of the room you got into the shower. Once you got out, the air seemed to be colder than you expected it to be. You got your pajamas on and ended up putting your hoodie back on to keep some of the chill off you.

Stuffing your hands into your hoodie’s pocket, your fingers brush up against some worn paper. You take out the thing and look it over, instantly recalling what it was you were holding. The weird business card.

“Such a weird spelling to end up pronounced as Beetlejuice.”

A draft of cool air blew by and you shiver. You huff and go check the a/c, expecting it to be dialed unbearably low. However, you find the stupid thing turned off. You scowl and turn up the heat.

It kicks on with a struggle, but once it gets going you take a seat on the bed. You him to yourself and shift attention back to the card. Why did you even pocket this? Curiosity? Somewhat, but you’ve been curious about countless things before. A strange souvenir? You never collected oddities before, why start now?

Your eyes scan over the words one more time, this time reading the card out loud.

“For the bio-exorcist, call; Betelgeuse,”

Another breeze of cool air got you shivering again. Stupid heater needed to warm the room faster.

“Betelgeuse,”

Another draft, this time accompanied by the lights in the room flickering. Maybe this hotel wasn’t as “good enough” as you previously thought.

“Betelgeuse.” The lights buzzed loud as the last syllable passed your lips, and the next instant all the lights went out.

You grit your teeth and voice your complaints to no one. “Oh, come the fuck on!” You heave out a growl and get up to check out the window. With your luck, your room would be the only one with the electrical issues.

You march a few steps to the window when you heard a gravelly laugh, way too close for comfort. A chill shot down your spine. You whip around to see who was there but only find yourself in the inky darkness of the hotel room. Not even the outlines of the furniture stood out in the dark.

You ball your hands into fists, not planning to go down without a fight. Body shaking, you scan over the room, staining your eyes to find anything. You grit your teeth and bark out, “Who’s there?”

The reply didn’t come as a proper response, just more laughing, right up next to your ear.

You spin and bring your fist up to get as much force behind your punch as possible. You swing blindly, only able to use the sound to aim. And to both your relief and dismay, your fist connects with something cold and scratchy.

The lights flick on the next second, allowing you to see a man in stumbling back a few steps away from you as he cupping his cheek. You look him over and can’t shake the notion you’ve seen him before. Pale skinned and dark rings under his eyes with the green in his hair extending down into his stubble. There was also that ratty old coat that he wore over a monochrome striped suit.

Your brows knit as you piece together why his appearance looked familiar, and when it finally clicked, you took a step back. Shock surged in a fleeting moment, replaced swiftly by raising your guard once more. Your hands still clenched into tight fists, you demand to know who the hell he even is.

“Geez, babes, didn’t expect you’d be so punchy,” he laughed as he stood upright, still rubbing the side of his face. “not that I’m complaining.”

Your glare narrows as you try to not react to his flirtatious tone.

“Answer me.”

“You already know my name,” he said, taking his hand away from his face. He leaned forward with a grin spread across his face showing off sharp yellowed teeth. “You’re the one that summoned me after all.”

“Summoned? But I didn’t... wait. The card?”

“Yep. Said my name three times, spoken unbroken. And now I’m here.”

“You. You were at the gas station a few towns back. Who, or what are you?”

“Gotta say babes, kinda rude to only acknowledge me right as you leave. But I’m willing to forgive ya for that since you summoned me~”

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you?”

His grin faltered, likely due to you ignoring his flirtations. He must have wanted to get a rise out of you.

“I’m a demon. The ghost with the most and the best Bio-Exorcist out there!”

“So you’re a demon, ghost.... bio-exorcist?”

“Yep!”

The bright smile on his face alongside his cheerful tone threw you more than you expected it to. He looked so happy and excited at that moment. If he hadn’t just admitted to being a demon, ghost... bio-exorcist, you might have thought he was rather cute.

“I guess the demon-ghost thing explains why the first thing you did was try to scare the shit out of me.”

“You give quite the warm welcoming yourself babes, with that punch to my face.” There didn’t seem to be any anger in his gravelly voice. Something you took notice of was how the lighting in the hotel room made the green in his hair look more pink on the ends than you thought it should.

You press your lips into a tight line and cross your arms. After a moment of looking him up and down, trying to figure out the strange demon’s motive, you give up and just ask him. “So then Mr. Demon, what now? You wanting to get my soul or something?”

“Nope, nothing like that. You read my card, says right on it I’m a bio-exorcist.”

“That like pest control?”

“Pretty much, get all the breathers out of places so the ghosts there can relax.”

“You going to run me out of my motel room then?” you ask with a pointed glare, “’Cause I swear to god I’ll send your ass back to hell if you so much as try me.”

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you were expecting from the demon, maybe a haughty display of power or aggression. It certainly wasn’t a purr with hooded eyes.

“So much fight and fire in ya! I like that.”

The growl in his voice when he said that made blood rush to your face. Damn this flirtatious bastard. He took your moment of shock to step closer.

“You don’t have to worry ‘bout that baby. You seem like fun. I won’t do anything, unless you want me to~”

You shake your head and regain some composure. You heave out a deep breath and take a step back. The fire on your face still burned, but you did your best to ignore it.

“How about this, Mr. Demon, pretend like this whole thing never happened? I go my way, and you go where ever to help as many ghosts as you want.”

This guy was full of surprises. You gave him a free pass to go bother as many others as he wanted and not have to put up with you. He should have been overjoyed. Instead he looked deflated, and weirder was you caught blue and purple seep into his hair.

“So soon? Bet we just started hanging out! Come on, we can be BFFFFs Forever!”

You searched his face for any sign of lying, anything to tip you off he wasn’t being genuine. That search came up empty. Furrowed brows, the stare of a hurt puppy, and blue taking over more and more of his once green hair.

“You... actually want to be friends?” you ask more to yourself than him, “I don’t think I’d be pleasant company.”

He tilted his head. At least the blue stopped spreading. That didn’t seem to be a color that suited him.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why wouldn’t you be pleasant company?”

You glance away, a bit thrown by the question. Maybe more by the tone of his voice, still rough and scratchy, but confused. And you could have sworn there was a trace of hurt softening his voice, but you might just be imagining that one.

He waited for an answer, and the longer you waited, the more it made you fidget. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He genuinely wanted to know your reason. Just get it over with, then he’ll finally leave and not want to hang around you.

You take in a deep breath and straighten up, holding yourself with strength and confidence. Qualities that you couldn’t fake well enough to even look him in the eye when you explained yourself.

“I don’t stick around anywhere for any more than a month. I don’t make friends, or keep in contact with anyone, I just keep moving. It’s better if I’m alone, that way nobody has to put up with me for very long.”

His head stayed tilted, like he still didn’t quite understand. Or maybe he did and wanted to know more. Either way, his expression stayed soft with brows knit quizzically. For a demon, he looked kinda cute.

You tap your foot and keep your gaze off him. This was stupid. Were you actually going to tell this Betelgeuse guy about your problems? Hopefully, he’ll get the picture and leave once you do. You bite your lip and heave out a drawn-out sigh.

“It’s hard to be around people for long stretches of time. Always being judged and have to walk on eggshells. Otherwise, I end up pissing off everyone for just wanting to be me. I got sick of not meeting stupidly high standard and left.

“There, happy? I’m just some annoying mortal, that can’t fit in. I’d rather not pal around with a demon only to end up pissing you off too. It’s easier if I’m alone.”

There was a silence between you and Betelgeuse. Your hands grip tighter on your arms as you wait for his reaction. Was he finally going to leave? Maybe he’ll try some trick on you before he does. You close your eyes, waiting. Still, there was only silence.

You chance a look up at him and find some blur rushing you. There wasn’t time to move, and you ended up with arms wrapped tight around your body. Before you had the chance to squirm out of the demon’s clutches, he pressed you tight against himself. His body was on the cooler side of what a body temperature should be. There was a unique odor to him as well. A variety of scents mixed; mold, mildew, dust, rot, but the strongest of them was damp earth.

“I knew I was going to like you!”

“Since when?” you ask, still squirming in his hug. He didn’t seem likely to let go of you soon. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying to at least get your arms a bit more freed up.

“When you punched me~”

His sing-song tone with a slight purr was not the tone you expected. Especially when bringing up the subject of you decking him in the face.

Your brain tried to process all the information you’ve got, but it was getting bogged down with too much weird things. You open your mouth to say something, but the words never come.

“So, babes!” Betelgeuse chirped, “What’s the plan? Cross Country road trip? See all the landmarks and weird roadside stops? Scare all the breathers from coast to coast?”

“You seriously want to tag along with me? My life is a train wreck. I can barely scrape by for myself most of the time.”

“Good thing I’m dead. I don’t need to eat. Or sleep. Plus~”

He leaned back and snapped his fingers. Odd, considering his arms didn’t budge from their hold on you.

At the snap the lights flickered once more, this time accompanied by all the furniture not bolted down, raising up to float. You turn your head as much as you can to look over the room. The mattress, table, chair, microwave. Hell, the bathroom door that was barely on its hinges rose and floated with all the other things.

Betelgeuse flicked his hand down and everything came crashing down to the ground with a loud clattering. You had the microwave’s rough landing in your line of sight. It landed on its corner, and that door flew off. You’re going to have to hide that later.

“I can help with that ‘barely scraping by’ thing.”

“How?”

“The finer points can wait, let’s just say I wouldn’t exactly get caught if I take something I like.”

Stealing. Got it. You groan and rack your brain to process all this. This demon-ghost seems very adamant about sticking with you. Not sure if that’s a great reflection on yourself. But regardless, you haven’t exactly had a lot of prolonged contact or socialization in a while. Maybe... ?

“Alright. You can stick with me. At least for a few weeks or something.”

The next thing you knew, your feet were off the ground. Air rushed over you as the room spun. Your feet were back on solid ground a moment later. As your brain was struggling to catch up, he pushed you backward. You latch on to Betelgeuse’s shoulders to keep from falling. His face came in close, planting a kiss before you could even react.

Your lips stayed shut tight as your cheeks burned. When he pulled you upright, you push against Betelgeuse with all your strength. Finally, you broke out of his hug.

He had a stupidly bright grin on that adorably punch-able scruffy face of his. You wipe off your mouth rather roughly before shooting him a glare. You head to the bathroom, where the door lay on the ground. Stepping over it, you grab your toothbrush and brush your teeth.

Betelgeuse peeked in for a moment and frowned when he saw what you were doing. He didn’t linger though, and at first you wondered what he could be up to, only to hear the TV blaring.

You drag your feet out of the bathroom and swipe the remote from the spot beside him on the bed. You thought about just turning it off, but decide to just turn the sound down before handing the remote back.

“I’m only staying here the one night and plan on getting up early to leave. Don’t care what you do so long as you keep it down and let me sleep.”

“You need me to sleep next to ya and keep the nightmares away~?”

“I though you said you didn’t sleep.”

“Don’t need to, but I can. And I’m willing to if I had a pretty little thing like you in my arms while I did.”

“I kick and roll in my sleep, also steal blankets. Doubt it would be comfortable. Seems like causing trouble for the other people here would be the more fun option for you,” you said as you turn off the lights. The one closest to the bed you left for last. You pull up the covers and crawl into bed before turning that light off too. “I might get a room with two queen beds next time, though.”

You yank the sheets out from being tucked in and quickly wrap yourself up in them. You bid him a goodnight, and he says one back. The room got quiet, and it seemed like he was actually going to keep it down so you could sleep. The TV buzzed softly with some show playing and your breathing slowed as you drifted to sleep. You were all snuggled up tight in the blankets, just about to plunge into the darkness of sleep. And the last thing you are half made aware of was an arm snake over your waist.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Soup of the Day

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Filipina!Reader

Special request by @tom-hlover : Bucky x Filipina reader who is new to the country and a new lab assistant and is quite the workaholic.when time came almost everyone was at the mission when reader became sick and tried to cook for herself though she cant even properly stand up,when Bucky found her,

A/N: I mention the Agents of Atlas and Pearl/Wave aka the Filipina superhero. If you don’t know who they are, I highly suggest to read up on them because they’re awesome.

When you were personally recruited to the Avengers in America, you couldn’t believe it. You were so excited, but you were also conflicted. You confided with Pearl about your situation and she replied with “Ikaw gaga?! You’re going! This is a great opportunity!”

She was right, it was a great opportunity. So, unfortunately, you had to say goodbye to Pearl, to the Agents of Atlas, to your family, your friends, your homeland. 

Coming to America, it was a bittersweet feeling. You spent your first few months adapting to the environment and the people. Sam, being that he was Captain America, took it upon himself to help you with the transition as much as he can. But while he was away on missions, Bucky took his place. 

Being that you were working in the lab, you saw him often to check on his arm. While checking the wiring and updates, you two would chat. Bucky would share some of his mission stories, and you would share your stories about your work with Pearl and the Atlas team. You couldn’t see it, but Bucky would always find himself smiling whenever you talked about the Philippines and your life there. He could see how much you loved your job, your people, and your work. But he could also see the sadness, how the distance was taking a toll on you. 

So he always did the best he could to bring a smile to your face, to cheer you up, and because he loved it when you smiled. 

Also, because you were new to the team, you felt like you had to prove yourself. Working long hours, longer than required, just to prove you deserve to be there and to stay with them. But it seems like these longs hours were taking a toll on you because when you woke up this morning, you felt terrible. 

You slowly put your work clothes on, dragging yourself into work. You were there for less than an hour when Bruce finally took a good look at you and saw how sickly you look. 

“Y/N, I think you should take today off.”

You swayed as you turned to Bruce’s green hulking figure, “I’m fine. Promise.”

He grabs you by the shoulders to steady you, “You’re clearly not. Take today off. Rest. Take some medicine, eat some soup. You’re not working today.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

You sigh, rubbing your sweaty head with your clammy hand, “Okay.” you take your things and head back up to your room. 

You weren’t sleepy, and you didn’t feel too dizzy anymore, so you decided to make yourself some soup, specifically sinigang. You recall your lola making it for you whenever you were sick or even if you were feeling down. It was your comfort food. 

You take out the ingredients one by one, setting them onto the counter. You chop up the beef, onions, and tomatoes. Afterwards, you toss them into the pot with some oil to brown and saute. 

As you stand before the stove, moving the ingredients around, you start feeling dizzy again. You try holding onto the counter for balance, but it doesn’t work. Soon enough, you feel yourself falling and you’re waiting to meet the floor, but it doesn’t come. 

“Y/N, are you okay?!” 

You look up and see a blurry version of a familiar blue-eyes super soldier, “Bucky?” you murmur, trying to focus your eyes, but it isn’t working. 

Bucky pulls you up, wrapping his metal arm around you to keep you from falling. With his free hand, he feels your head with the back of his hand, “Geez, sweetheart, you’re burnin’ up. Bruce told me you weren’t feeling well. I came to check up on ya. Good thing I did. You nearly bashed your head into the counter.”

“I’m....I’m..ffffine. Just need.....sin-sin-soup,” you point to the pot that’s sizzling with meat and veggies inside. 

Bucky shakes his head, “You’re not cooking in your state. That’s a definite safety hazard. I’m taking you to bed and I’ll finish cooking the soup for you.”

“Bucky, no-”

“Bucky, yes. You need to rest, Y/N or you’ll get even worse.” As if you weighed nothing, he scoops you up and brings you to your room. Using his foot, he opens the door, and pushes it open. Then he places you onto your bed, pulling back the covers and helping you under them. 

As soon as he pulls the blanket over you, you sigh. Your eyes flutter shut and your head luls to the side. You’re out like a light and Bucky quietly chuckles to himself. 

He stands there, watching you sleep for a little bit, but then he remembers the food. He quickly and quietly rushes out of your room, leaving the door ajar in case you call for him, and head to the kitchen. 

He lowers the heat and looks inside the pot to find some browned beef, translucent white onions, and tomatoes. He’s not exactly sure what kind of soup you were making.

“Uh, FRIDAY, what exactly was Y/N trying to make?”

“Miss L/N was in the process of making sinigang, a traditional soup that originates from the Philippines.”

“Right. Uuuuhhh, do you mind if you could assist me in making this?”

“Not at all, Agent Barnes.”

______________

When you wake up, you’re a little bit groggy. Your body feels a little heavy, but at least your head isn’t spinning anymore. You look at your window and still see sunlight peeking from the blind. You turn to your bedside and see that it’s half past noon. You were asleep for nearly five hours. 

“How’re you feeling?”

“AYE!” you scream in fright and turn to the other side of your bed to see Bucky sitting in a chair, with a book in hand, “How long have you been there?”

He chuckles, setting his book onto your bedside, “Since you fell asleep. Well, a little less than that since I went to go finish making your, uh, sinigong?”

You giggle at his pronunciation, “Sinigang. But good try.”

“Hey, I don’t make fun of you when you attempt Russian.”

“Yes, you do!” both of you it there, chuckling with each other. A silence falls upon both of you, but it’s not awkward. It’s comforting. 

But you still clear your throat and break the silence, “So, you made the soup. How’d that go?”

“Uh, alright, I guess? FRIDAY helped me out. Also, I honestly didn’t even know tamarind was a thing until now?”

You nod, “Yeah, that’s what makes the sinigang sour.”

“Um, are you hungry? I brought some to you earlier, but you were still asleep. I could get you some?”

“I could get it my-”

“No no, you stay in bed. By order of Doctor Banner.”

“He came by?” you gave him a confused look.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah. You were out of it, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Also, you’re not working for the next two weeks.”

“WHAT?!” You shoot up from the bed, “But-”

“I’ll tell you why in a sec, okay? I’m gonna get you some soup and a glass of water. Okay? Stay right there! Don’t move!”

You roll your eyes and lay back down, “Whatever you say, tay.”

“Don’t know what tay is, but okay.” he shoots you a wink and exits the room. You lay there giggling to yourself like a school girl who has a big crush. Well, to be fair, you do have a big crush on Bucky. 

Minutes later, Bucky comes back with a steaming bowl and a large glass of water. He sits beside you and offering you a spoonful. You look at him with a glare and he rolls his eyes, “Humor me.”

You sigh and accept the spoonful of soup. You feel your throat warm up from it and you smack your lips together, “It’s good!”

He snorts, “Don’t sound so surprised.”

You place a hand on his thigh and gave him a grateful smile, “Thank you, Bucky, for making the soup and taking care of me.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Just-Just easy on the workload from now on, okay? Bruce says you’ve been working so much that that’s probably what got you sick.”

“Well, maybe I’ll keep getting sick so you can take care of me,” you playfully bat your eyes at him and he laughs. 

“I’ll do anything you want, doll. Don’t gotta get sick for it.”

You giggle and pat his leg, “Okay. Deal,” and then accept another spoonful of sinigang from Bucky. 

tagging: @buckybarnesthehotshot​ cause you know why. 

A/N: also, this may be controversial but....i use spam in my sinigang....

[chyrstis]

WIP Saturday

I don’t think I’ve been more relieved to see the end of the week pop up, and really wanted to take advantage of the time while I had it too. And also keep my computer from restarting in the middle of posting this, thank you very much. Geez. 

Tagged by: @vasiktomis @shallow-gravy @starsandskies @fadedjacket @faithchel @adelaidedrubman @p0lkadotdotdot which I want to thank a bunch for since I’m about to apologize for these way too early in the day tags in turn. <3

Tagging: @hunnybadgerv @painterofhorizons @cobb-vanthss @amistrio @geronimo-11 @redroci @nightwingshero @ma-sulevin @tommymillers @jackiesarch @shellibisshe @risenlucifer @jackalopestride @sneaky-apostate @tomexraider @strafethesesinners @scarlettkat86 @aceghosts @triedtriedtired @unlikelynick @siribear @weekend-writer and anyone else that wouldn’t mind sharing a WIP or two, or three, maybe? And for anyone that’s already been tagged? Don’t mind me one bit. 

How about a little bit more from the Trap fic maybe? I’m roughly on Ch. 3 draft-wise of it at the moment, but really want to start cleaning up Ch. 1 soon to post, so I’m going to see what I can do about that this weekend...

---

They ditched the van well outside of Silver Lake. Leaving it just down a dirt path in the thicker brush, Hana made sure to grab everything she could fit on her person before leaving, and gestured for Ben - the only name he’d actually bothered to respond to - to take point.

With her rifle out and in her hands, he didn’t raise any objections, and didn’t ask for a weapon either. Just looked at her for a long minute before taking those first few steps out, and she made sure to keep him squarely in her sights as they moved forward.

They’d just reached the outside of the trailer park when the radio at her side came to life.

“Deputy, are you there?”

The breath she’d held came out in a rush. Because at this point it could’ve been anyone, but Jerome’s voice was a damn blessing, and she couldn’t hold back the relief she felt.

“Pastor, goddamn is it good to hear you.”

Or the casual blasphemy, apparently. Letting go of the call button, Hana bit her tongue to keep from adding a flustered fuck to it all, but swore she’d make it up to him later.

“...Uh, sorry. After the day I’ve had, it really is good to hear a friendly voice.”

Jerome laughed. “It’s just as good to hear yours. We’ve been looking for you for the last few hours now, and with no word to go off of assumed the worst.”

“Yeah, about that. I might’ve been a little tied up.” Her wrists twinged at the memory, and she quickly shrugged it off. “But you’ve got me now. Did Dutch give you the rundown?”

---

I also might’ve been having some fun poking around in John’s head lately for the No Cult AU, and I really shouldn’t be surprised at all that it’s already shaping up to be much longer than intended. 

---

Squeaking on the leather seats, Charlemagne shifted and tried to get comfortable, only to grab for the handle above his head when John took the nearby corner sharper than intended.

He leaned right into it, laughing as John corrected for it, and almost looked pleased it had happened at all. “Damn, man. You’re no fucking slouch. Bet you’d score a record on that speed trap up north too. Beat that minute forty-five easy. Though something’s been bugging me since I got in here.”

“Do tell,” John replied, easing off of the acceleration, but only by a hair.

“I think I’ve been in here before. Which is weird, ‘cause popping or jimmying that kind of door’s a pain in the ass. Not that I tried before!” he quickly added, “Only really did that with the boat, but there was less doorbusting with it being open, and more jiggling the key trying to make sure it’d fit once I had it, but this shit,” - Boshaw leaned back in the seat and half slid down it - “I remember that. That’s shit you can’t make up without dealing with at least once.”

“You have.”

“Have what?” he asked, slouched down far enough for any reasonable person to get a cramp in their neck.

“Been in this car before.” John frowned. “Did you manage to forget already, or just succeeded in blocking that lovely little bonding experience for good?”

Judging from the strange way he was looking at him, he had. Unbelievable.

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before returning both hands to the wheel. “How you - drenched and soaking wet - left an inch of water behind on my floorboards, refused to buckle your seatbelt after nearly strangling yourself with it, and couldn’t stay still for a second out of the fear that you’d manage to slip out of the seat somehow?”

All while furiously apologizing and begging for mercy, but John didn’t feel the need to remind him of that particular detail. Not when everything else appeared to be clicking, judging from the way he’d frozen in his seat.

“I can imagine everything looks different when it’s morning and you’re sober.”

---

...And I might’ve started a little take on the beginning mission for Hana. I couldn’t resist.

---

“Stay on the path, rookie.”

Stay on the path.

Stay on the path.

With each step forward she repeated the words, over and over, her hand still in place on Joseph Seed’s shoulder.

Eyes forward. On Joey. On the sheriff, on the exit.

Almost there, Han. Almost there.

But the others weren’t still. Didn’t stay in place, and she moved a little faster. Knew her fingers were digging into Joseph’s shoulder as she urged him forward and found her attention drawn to the movement right out of her line of vision. The others - Peggies armed and not - closing in.

She swallowed, felt her throat nearly choke on nothing as she forced it all down, and took in a shaky breath through her nose.

Almost there. She could see the chopper now. Knew Pratt was waiting, and almost felt like she was jogging towards it.

Right as Burke raised his weapon, along with his voice, and her heart nearly stopped on the spot.

[stusbunker]

Brother Knows Best

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester/ Plus-sized!Reader

Written for: @lukn4inspo​ for my 800 follower Celebration

Word Count: 1679

Warnings: Floof, Dean playing wingman, self esteem issues

    It had been months since he had seen her in person, and the sight of her crawling out of her truck just to beam up at him with her gorgeous smile hit Sam straight in the chest. 

    “How was the trip?” he asked once he shook the cobwebs out of his thoughts.

    “Not bad, yours?” She shrugged just before she snuck her arms under his for a quick hug. Sam held on a little longer than she seemed to, enjoying the way her plush body pressed to his.

    “The usual, straight through with a lot of Zeppelin,” Sam replied.

    “At least you got to sleep?” She offered, optimistic as she rounded the rear of her vehicle to grab her bags. Sam caught up quickly and took what could only be her weapons from her, it was so heavy.

    “Uh, just listened to a podcast actually,” Sam said, almost as an afterthought.

    “Nice! I just caught up on mine on the way. What are you into these days?” She tossed her bag over her shoulder and listened intently as he rattled off the ones he had checked out. When he got to the ones he listened to regularly she beat him to the punch, listing three out of the four right along with him.

    “You like true crime, how did I not know that?” Sam chuckled.

    “Am I into True Crime?! Boy, I practically only do cases where I can get a peek at some serial killer paraphernalia, if not the actual crime scenes,” she balked.

    “Ever been to the Lizzie Borden house?” Sam kept going.

    Dean watched them from the doorway of the motel room, shaking his head. 

     Dean glared at Sam across the booth, his brother’s eyes had gone glassy as he watched her hips as she rushed out of the diner and back to surveillance detail. This was going to be a long one, Dean thought to himself as he slurped his coffee loud enough to draw Sam out of his little revelry.

    “Really?” Sam’s face pinched in annoyance.

    “You should go with her, see if you find anything,” Dean suggested over the rim of his mug.

    “What? Come on, man, she’ll be fine,” Sam looked at Dean like he was crazy.

    “Oh I’m sure she is, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go, eh?” Dean waggled his eyebrows.

    “Stop. It’s not like that,” Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his egg white omelette.

    Dean chuckled and started counting off reasons with his fingers. “She’s cute. She’s single. She listens to the same creepy ass podcasts you listen to. And she called you about the case.”

    “Just, stop, okay? Sure, she’s great, but it’s just a case,” Sam shrugged. “It doesn’t mean she’s interested in me like that.”

    “Aren’t you? Interested in her?” Dean pressed, head cocked knowingly.

    Sam bit his lip and set down his cup for a refill from the waitress. The table fell quiet as they said their thanks and returned to their meals. 

    Was he? Sam didn’t usually allow himself the novelty of romance. He’d been through too much. He’d lost too many people to think it was in the cards for him. Hunters don’t get happily-ever-afters. Sure, she was smart and resourceful. And Sam did get warm in the cheeks whenever she smiled. Sam introspected until Dean dropped his silverware and blinked at Sam with slow disbelief. 

    “Once this is over, you’re asking her out or I’m doing it for you,” Dean spat out under narrowed eyes.

    Sam rolled his eyes again. “Fine. I’ll talk to her. Okay? Geez.”

    Dean grinned and patted Sam on the shoulder. “That’s more like it, Sammy.”

    Sam stood awkwardly at the edge of the booth, Dean refused to slide in another inch.

    “Hey, Y/N, would you mind scooting in for Sam? I want to keep this leg elevated,” Dean asked, playing the injury card. They had wrapped up the vengeful spirit and had gone for drinks to celebrate an early night off the job. 

    “Sure? Actually, why don’t I,---” she stood and eased out off the bench seat, brushing against Sam as he moved to take her place. “If that’s cool? I just wanted to grab the first round, since you guys drove in for the assist.”

    Sam swallowed as she looked up at him, eyes playful and full of gratitude. 

“That’d be great, thanks.” Sam awkwardly patted her shoulder before he dropped onto the old vinyl seat. 

    Dean waited until she was out of earshot. “Have you ever spoken to a woman before? Did I just invent every person you’ve ever slept with? Because what the hell was that?!”

    Sam flinched and eyed Dean in annoyance. “Shut up. She was--- it was--- I was just really close to her,” Sam trailed off. “Anyway, you can shut up about your knee, you’re fine. You drove here fast enough.”

    Dean shrugged. “Well, I’m not as young as I used to be, Sammy. And neither are you, so pace yourself, alright?” Dean nodded, tapping his temple and gesturing to Sam’s junk.

“You are disgusting.” Sam pointlessly looked to the heavens for help.

    She quickly returned with a round of shots in her hands and three beers clutched to one breast. Sam tried not to oggle as she leaned down to disburse the drinks, but her tank top was askew from her efforts. Dean chuckled and drummed on the table.

    “That’s what I’m talking about! Bottoms up!” Dean toasted her and polished off his shot.

    Sam stilled as she rested her hand behind his back and leaned in. “You gonna let me in or do I have to pay a toll?”

    “Oh, sorry, here,” Sam slid to the farthest reaches of the bench, retreating from the welcoming give of her body as it brushed against his shoulder. He didn’t catch her look of confusion.

    “Let’s go, you two, gotta keep up!” Dean pushed their shots closer.

    They drank and talked, laughter and stories flowed freely long into the night. Sam kept to beer, mainly because Dean had blatantly stolen his shots. She trailed off after the third round, bringing them water and beer instead.

    “So, where to next, champ?” Dean asked her, fingering through the bottom of a bowl of popcorn.

    “Who knows, not gonna start looking until check out time tomorrow,” she answered, playing with the straw in her glass, and followed up asking pointedly of Sam. “You guys heading back to your fortress of duo-tude first thing?”

    He chuckled at her jab and nodded, sighing. “Yeah, as long as nothing pops up between here and there.”

    Sam glanced at Dean and Dean’s eyes dropped to the table, assessing the graveyard before them. “You know what, why don’t I just clear these out of the way. Don’t need to give the staff more to---,” Dean’s voice dropped to a mutter as he rather obviously left Sam alone with the girl.

    “Glad to see his leg is better,” she murmured, a smile dancing around the tip of her straw.

    “Yeah, it was just hollow, needed his hunter fuel to fill it back up,” Sam agreed, dimples on full display. Sam poked the side of his cheek with his tongue, considering if he should keep talking. “You know, I told him I would talk to you after the case. He threatened to ask you out for me if I didn’t.”

    “Damn, big brother goes that hard to get you some, huh?” She laughed, but the nervousness was palpable.

    “I guess,” Sam huffed, feeling the conversation was balancing on the edge of a knife.

    “Well, it’s a good thing you talked to me then, cleared the air. Don’t have to worry about Dean butting in anymore,” she nodded, swallowing. She wouldn’t look at Sam, his stomach dropped.

    “Hey.” Sam spun to face her completely, his knee bent at an awkward angle in the narrow booth. “Want to get out of here?”

    “You’re serious?” She balked. “I thought that was your way of letting me down gently.”

    Sam’s face twisted in concern and he shook his head. Before he realized it he was leaning towards her, her face still a mask of skepticism. The telltale rumble of the impala’s engine revved in the parking lot, which Dean hardly ever did. Sam closed his eyes and shook his head.

    “And apparently my brother is as tactless as ever.” Sam sighed. “Mind taking me back to the motel? I mean, unless you wanted to---?”

    She looked defeated. “Sam, are you sure this isn’t Dean tricking you into being stuck with me? Like a joke he’ll use against you in the future?” Her doubt tore through him; she’d been hurt before, more than he’d realized.

    Sam dropped a hand to her thigh. “What? No, Dean even said you were cute. He’s just a little too---enthusiastic, sometimes.”

    He waited for her to believe him, nervous for an entirely different reason than he had been all night. She put her hand on his, squeezing as she looked into his eyes. Sam saw a deep pool of emotion and he couldn’t help but lurch forward and give her the only true reassurance he could. His lips met hers in an earnest kiss. Sam forgot to be scared and worked to be honest. To prove to her that she was who he wanted. 

That this was real.

    She quickly caught up, mouth opening to accept his graces. When she pulled away gasping, Sam couldn’t help but grin. She rested her temple against his cheek as their fingers intertwined on her lap. 

   “Okay, okay, twist my arm why don’t ya?” she teased.

    “I mean, you are basically rescuing me from walking back,” Sam reasoned. “My hero.”

    “Wow, you really are gonna lay it on thick now, aren’t you?” She blushed and shook her head, giving him a playful kiss.

    “Pretty thick, yeah.” Sam bit his lips, but couldn’t stop himself from continuing. “But mostly long.”

     She gave him an impressed cocked eyebrow.

    “Hey, Sam?” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “wanna get out of here?”

Prompt #8 of 8

Sam and plus size reader where he’s smitten?

Tagging:

@flamencodiva​​ @dolphincliffs​​ @dontshootmespence​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler​​ @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @awesomesusiebstuff​

[hookedonapirate]

Summary: The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son.

Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle and a questionable past.

The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type.

Oh, and apparently their taste in women.

Or rather, one woman.

Feisty.

Blonde.

Gorgeous.

Green-eyed Goddess.

Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother—the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she’s dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse…

Until Liam dies in a tragic motorcycle accident.

Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart.

Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces.

Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further into the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby.

Notes: So I made this post on Tumblr the other day, and then this fic happened. If you haven't seen the tags, please read them before starting this story or becoming invested because it’s very angsty. First of all, this starts out as Swan Jewel? I don't know what their ship name is or if there is an official name, but yes, Liam and Emma are in a relationship in the beginning, and I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If you're not comfortable with that, I highly encourage you to hit the back button.

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd​ for looking it over!

This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox, and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I’ve wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it’s one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write my own take. Also, I made this post about a Baby Yodarita drink last year when it was trending and since the beginning of this story starts one year prior, 2019 and since Killian is a bartender, it was a perfect way to include the prompt.

The title comes from the lyrics of the song, Lay By Me by Ruben. The particular line goes like this:

"I hope you know through the rising tide That I'll be here and you can lay by my side"

If you've never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. It's an amazing song and very fitting for this story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFJbLzEtoZw

P.S. In case you're unable to read the shoulder tattoo in the picture above and are wondering what it says—

"There is no happiness without tears

No life without death

And no true love without heartbreak"

Rated: Explicit for smut (including sexual fantasies, masturbation, implied and detailed sex, etc.) and language (lots of F-bombs).

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

Chapter 1

“Late again?” Liam chides when Ruby waltzes into work as if everything is completely normal. As if she’s not an hour late for her shift. 

  For the third time that week.

  She gives him an apologetic smile, but Killian knows she’s not actually sorry. 

  He’s just wondering who she was with this time.

  “Won't happen again, boss.”

  “Damn right it won’t. This is your third warning. Next time, there will be a write-up,” he admonishes.

  Frustration creases her forehead. “Geez, would you just chill? My car broke down.”

  Liam crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. “So, you mean to tell me your car has broken down three times this week?” he asks, holding up three fingers. “And on either of these occasions, you couldn’t pick up the phone and give me a heads up? Did your phone break, too?”

  She flashes him a look as though the answer to his question is obvious. “I told you my car’s a piece of junk. And I tried to call, but no one answered.”

  Killian fights off a laugh, knowing for a fact Ruby is bluffing. At least about calling tonight, since the phone hadn’t rung in the past hour. But he could easily check to see if she’d called on the other two days on the bar phone’s caller i.d. to find out for sure if he really wanted to. 

   “So get a new car. Don’t you make enough from your tips and the hourly wage I pay you?”

  “I make enough from my tips,” she replies with a sarcastic smirk, “but I have more important things to buy.”

  Liam rolls his eyes. “Like what? More six-inch heels, low-cut tops and short skirts?”

  Ruby lets out an exasperated sigh. “How do you think I get good tips—by dressing like a Catholic schoolgirl?” She twists her lips and presses the back of her long, red-painted fingernail to her chin, pondering her own words for a second. “On second thought, that actually might bring in even more tips. Besides, you should be paying for my work clothes. Maybe then I could afford a new car.”

  Liam scoffs. “You want me to pay for your outfits?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Ruby's eyes widen, as though she’s shocked he declined her request. “Why not? Can’t you claim them as a work expense?”

  He nods. “Alright, fine. But if I’m paying for your work attire, then I’m choosing what you wear. Sound good to you?” he asks, knowing damn well she’ll never go for it.

  Unsurprisingly, she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I ain’t wearing no damn polo shirt and black slacks. I like my low-cut tops and short skirts, thank you very much.”

  Liam sighs and cups his forehead in his hand to indicate she’s giving him a headache as he turns around and walks toward his office. “Just get to work, Ruby.”

  She wraps her apron around her waist and mimics his words in a mocking tone, “Just get to work, Ruby.”

  “I heard that!” Liam hollers.

  “I could be already serving customers if it weren’t for my pain in the ass boss riding me every two goddamn seconds!” she shouts, hoping he heard that too.

  Killian chuckles to himself as he rings up a customer for his drinks and hands him the change.

  “That dude seriously needs to get laid,” Ruby huffs. “Maybe then he’d back off a little.”

  “Ha! I doubt it,” Killian comments before taking another drink order.

  Ruby heads to the dining area to wait on customers. She knows Killian’s not wrong to doubt Liam’s ability to show a little mercy. He’s worked for his brother for two years, longer than anyone has ever been able to stand working for him, and he’s never once seen Liam be lenient, not even to his own brother. He runs a tight ship, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing. Liam has owned this bar for five years and takes his job very seriously. 

  Killian’s just glad he only has to work here for another six months. Or at least that’s the plan. He’s about to graduate from Storybrooke University and get his degree in engineering. As much as he enjoys working for his brother, or rather listening to his coworkers complain about his brother behind Liam’s back, he doesn’t plan on spending his entire life making drinks.

  Liam emerges from his office an hour later and announces he has to take off for a while to run some errands. Killian’s confused because this is Liam’s night to manage the bar. He dedicates the majority of his other time performing administrative tasks during the week.

  “What errands do you have to run on a Friday night?” Killian asks, his words laced with suspicion.

  “Just some errands I promised someone I’d take care of. You’re in charge while I’m gone.” He pulls on his jacket and leaves Killian behind the bar with a confused expression on his face, wondering what his brother is up to. 

  Killian brushes off the thought, deciding to further question him later.

  Liam heads out the door, but not before scolding Ruby for sitting down at a table full of rowdy men, chatting (and not about the menu). She may be into women, but she flirts with customers regardless of their gender for the tips. 

  Ruby curses under her breath and gets up, moving to her next table to jot down orders.

  ~*~

  Emma sighs as Mary Margaret grabs her hand and pulls her into The Captain's Rum. Or more like, drags her in kicking and screaming. She doesn’t wish to be at this bar any more than she wanted to be at the last two. But her sister-in-law insists on the outlandish idea Emma’s going to find Mr. Perfect tonight. Or somehow get over her asshole of an ex-boyfriend after one night of drinking.

  And even though it's been two months since she left Neal and his thieving and cheating ass, and as much as she wants to get over him, Emma knows it’s not gonna happen for a while. At least not tonight.

  And yet, here she is.

  One night of drinking can’t hurt, she supposes. One night of forgetting everything. Of numbing her pain. Or so she keeps telling herself, but that could be the alcohol she’s already imbibed at the other two bars speaking.

  “So, how’s it going tonight, Rubes?” Mary Margaret asks the cocktail server once they’re seated at a booth. 

  Apparently, they know each other.

  “Well, no one's tried to manhandle me yet, so it's a start.” The tall brunette with red streaks in her hair leans over the table and murmurs, “Not a great start, but it's a start.”

  Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and laughs as she gestures at Emma. “Rubes, this is my sister-in-law, Emma. She just moved here from New York.”

  Looking at Emma, Ruby grins and sticks out her hand. “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

  Emma gives her a polite smile and shakes her hand. “Likewise.”

  When Ruby brings the chips and cheese Mary Margaret ordered, she places them on the table along with two empty plates. Before arriving here, Mary Margaret decided they would put some food in their bellies before they added more alcohol so they wouldn't get too drunk too fast and have to head home early. Well, that was Mary Margaret’s idea at least. Emma would much rather be home in the comfort of her bedroom watching Netflix. Or rather, her brother’s and sister-in-law's guestroom they so graciously let her sleep in until she gets her own place. 

  “Enjoy, ladies.”

  “Sure will,” Mary Margaret beams as Ruby leaves their table. She sips on some water as she scans the bar. Probably for potential suitors she can hook her sister-in-law up with, Emma surmises. “What about him? He's cute,” Mary Margaret remarks, her eyes trained on someone behind her. 

  Emma looks over her shoulder and arches a brow. “He’s cute if you’re sixteen. He looks way too young.”

  “Well, he’s drinking, so he must be at least twenty-one,” Mary Margaret points out.

  “He looks sixteen, and sorry, I don’t date children.”

  “Emma, he’s not a child, probably a college student. And you act like you’re so old just because you already graduated. You’re twenty-two,” Mary Margaret points out like she’s jealous and wishes to be so young again. But she's only a few years older—the same age as David.

  Emma groans. “No, thanks.” Her last boyfriend was immature enough as it was, and he was ten years her senior. “So, tell me, how are you and my brother getting along?” Emma asks, attempting to change the subject and get her sister-in-law to avert her attention from the college boys across the room. “Sick of each other yet?”

  Mary Margaret whips her head around and scowls. “Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  Emma laughs and raises her hands in defense. “Because I knew it was the only thing that would get your attention.”

  Guilt and apology flicker in Mary Margaret’s eyes. “Sorry, Emma.” She lays her palms on the table. “David and I are just worried about you, that’s all.”

  Emma sighs, frustration creasing her forehead. “I’m fine, I promise. Neal was an ass, and honestly, him cheating on me was a good thing. I needed the wake-up call, okay? I was blinded by love. But now that we're over, I can move on with my life. That’s why I let you talk me into bar hopping.”

  A slow, hopeful smile spreads across her lips. “I know, and I’m so happy you got out of that relationship, Emma. David and I both are.”

  Emma laughs. “I know. When I landed on your door stoop, we both had to stop him from driving all the way to New York to kick Neal's ass.”

  Mary Margaret nods. “True. He’s very protective of you.”

  Emma rolls her eyes. “I know. It’s both a blessing and a curse.” She takes a sip of water as she scans the bar. It’s the first time she’s been to The Captain's Rum, and everyone is so unfamiliar to her. New York is a huge place, especially compared to Storybrooke, but in this bar, it feels like she‘s back in New York. She swears everyone in Storybrooke is here.

  Ruby returns to their table to sit and chat. And steal some of their chips, double-dipping them in the cheese. Emma fights off the urge to laugh at this as her eyes wander past Ruby’s shoulder. 

  Huge mistake.

  The group at the bar counter disperses, revealing the most gorgeous sight she's ever seen.

  Holy. Fucking. Hell. 

  She loses a breath when she sees what she can only describe as a fine specimen. 

  Good Lord.

  Handsome features and such a delicious smile to accompany his perfect face as he chats with a male patron at the bar, she finds herself licking her lips.

  “What about him?” Emma manages when she’s able to find the words in her throat. 

  Mary Margaret’s eyes light up before she even looks to see who Emma is staring so unabashedly at. “Who?!” She and Ruby both turn their heads, their eyes following the path of Emma’s gaze until they land on the target.

  “You mean the bartender?” Mary Margaret asks, though, to Emma’s surprise, she doesn’t seem very excited; more like disappointed.

  Emma tears her gaze away from the bartender, as much as she doesn’t want to. But she couldn’t breathe when she looked at him and she needed to come up for air. “Yeah, why not?” 

  “Why not what?” Ruby asks as she looks at Emma, curiosity flashing in her big hazel eyes. “Because if you’re asking ‘why not jump his bones,’ then I can’t think of one good reason.”

  “Ruby, don’t encourage her,” Mary Margaret chides with a glare.

  Ruby frowns, confusion etched in her features. “Why not?”

  “Because… Killian is a player. Emma just broke up with her player of a boyfriend a couple of months ago. She doesn't need another one in her life.”

  “Um, excuse me, I’m right here,” Emma groans wryly. “And I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

  “She’s not wrong though,” Ruby remarks. “He is a player. But a fucking hot player. Between the two of us, we’ve conquered all the women of Storybrooke.”

  Emma lifts a brow. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “Yep. Probably even some of the same women,” she winks, her words bearing no shame or remorse.

  “Ruby, would you stop? Besides, neither of you have conquered me,” Mary Margaret points out with air quotes.

  Ruby rolls her eyes. “Of course not. Prince Charming had already parked his car in your garage long ago.” She reverts her eyes to Emma. “If you’re looking for a relationship, he’s definitely not for you…” she leans over toward Emma, speaking softly, “but if you’re looking for a hookup to get over that cheating ex of yours, then he’s absolutely perfect for that. He’ll give you an orgasm sooooo hard, you’ll forget all about that scumbag. Then he’ll do it over and over again until he knows you won’t be able to walk for weeks.” Ruby grins wide. “Hell, you’ll forget your own fucking name for weeks.”

  Emma gulps, having to recover from the images Ruby implanted in her mind of the man on the other side of the bar. Once she recovers, she furrows her brows at the conclusions she’s drawn from Ruby’s graphic depictions of what a night with the handsome, dark-haired bartender would be like. “How would you know? Have you two—”

  Ruby laughs as though Emma just said the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life. “Oh Gaaaaawwwwd, no! I don’t swing that way, honey,” she says, rising and waving off Emma’s words with a flick of her hand. “But I’ve seen the number Killian’s done on his conquests. People talk, especially the drunk, horny females who enter the bar. Plus, as I said, he’s my competition, so I have to know what he's working with… if you know what I mean,” she says with a wink.

  “Yeah, I got it,” Emma groans as Ruby saunters away. Why do all the hot guys have to be players? 

  It’s just her luck.

  Emma turns to catch another look at him. 

  God, he’s gorgeous. 

  Dark, wild hair, stubble on his chin and cheeks, and a fantastic body based on what she can see from her vantage point.

  “Emma! Don’t even think about it! That man’s trouble and you know David would never approve,” Mary Margaret explains, pulling Emma from her trance.

  She turns her head, glaring at her sister-in-law. “David is not my father. And besides, I’m a grown-ass woman! He can’t tell me who I can or cannot date.”

  Mary Margaret gives her a motherly look. “I know, sweetie, but this man doesn’t date women, he fucks them and then sends them packing. David only wants to protect you from guys like him.”

  “I don’t need his protection, okay? Or yours. I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself.” Emma stands from her seat, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the alcohol still brewing in her system, or because her sister-law has expressed disapproval from both her and David, making this man seem like a forbidden, sinful dessert she’s dying to get a taste of, even though she’ll pay for it later. But right now she doesn't give a fuck. 

  She sucks in a breath and strides across the bar, ignoring Mary Margaret’s pleas and warnings.

  Her eyes are fixed on him like a magnet. He’s wearing a black v-neck that fits him like a glove and shows off a provocative amount of chest hair, his tight, firm muscles bulging as he wipes down the bar counter. His muscles aren’t inhumanly large, just big enough for her to imagine him picking her up and easily carrying her to his bedroom like she weighs nothing. Emma can feel her panties grow wet just from watching him work. 

  But even though she doesn’t wish to be told who to be with, she knows she should heed her sister-in-law’s warnings.

  What would one night of fun hurt, though? She’s spent too much time holed up in her New York apartment, wallowing in self-pity and heartache after Neal hurt her. She hasn’t been with anyone since then. And maybe she’s not looking to dive into a serious relationship right now. Or ever. Maybe she just wants to blow off some steam. And this man looks like he can handle such a task. She’s more than willing to find out. 

  Emma approaches the bar and stands in front of him, placing her hands on the counter. 

  “What can I get you, lass?”

  Well, fuck me sideways.

  He has a British accent too?

  She knows she should run for her life, but before she can talk herself out of it, he looks up from his task, and she feels like her feet are glued to the floor. 

  Ho-ly hell.

  He’s even more gorgeous up close.

  His arms are inked with tattoos she so badly wants to trace with her fingers, and his striking blue eyes sparkle as he stares at her, his smile showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

  Well shit.

  She couldn’t run away if she wanted to.

  ~*~

  Killian had been running back and forth behind the bar for hours, ringing up bar patrons, making drinks and engaging in small talk. It’s a typical Friday night at The Captain’s Rum; the place is normally busy on the weekends, especially since the bar is only a stone’s throw away from the university, and tonight is no exception. It’s crowded and loud, couples are dancing, and the women are scantily clad in either tiny dresses or short tops and skirts. As he’s grabbing beers and making cocktails, the bar continues to fill and grow louder. 

  He hands off drinks to a couple before moving on to the next customer. 

  “Hey Jones, can I get two Blue Ribbons?” his good mate, Robin, calls over the blaring music. 

  Killian chuckles and grabs the desired beers, popping off the caps before handing them over. “Taking it easy tonight?” he asks, leaning against the counter and gripping the edge of it with both hands.

  “Aye. Regina doesn’t like the hard stuff. She’s more of a wine person.”

  “Ah, I see.” Killian nods; he can definitely see that about Regina. He doesn't want to say this to one of his best mates, but the lass can be a little stuck up and quite bossy at times. She makes Robin happy though, so he keeps his mouth shut.

  He chats with him for a few minutes, finally getting a few minutes of reprieve. As Robin heads back to his girlfriend, Killian takes the opportunity to wipe down the bar top. But before he’s finished, someone approaches the counter. His eyes are still trained on his task, but he can’t miss the long blonde hair, pink lace and fantastic cleavage, seeing as the view is directly in front of him. “What can I get you, lass?” he asks, throwing on his most charming grin as he lifts his head.

  His smile is cemented on his face the second he looks up.

  Killian’s accustomed to seeing pretty women entering his brother’s bar and parading around in clothes that barely cover their essential parts.

  Yet nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the woman standing in front of him on the other side of the bar counter.

  No, not woman. 

  Goddess.

  Emerald green eyes, soft pink lips curved into a shy smile, smooth creamy skin, long golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

  Good. 

  God.

  She’s breathtaking.

  Stunning.

  “What would you recommend?” she asks in a teasing tone.

  Fuck.

  Her voice is that of an angel’s. Pure and sweet and innocent.

  She looks like everything he doesn’t deserve but wants every... fucking... part of.

  “Uh… I um…” he stutters, scratching nervously behind his ear. He can’t form a cohesive sentence as he looks into those hypnotizing eyes. He wants to get lost in them, drown in them. “What are you… what are you in the mood for, love?” he finally musters, adding another one of his signature grins. “I can make you anything your heart desires.” What he wants to say is, “I can give you anything your heart desires,” but even that may not be true. As gorgeous as she is, he’s afraid he wouldn’t be the man she deserves. He’s never been the guy women like to take home to their parents, anyway. He’s the guy chicks like to have around for a good time before they eventually settle into a serious relationship with Mr. Perfect. He’s definitely no Mr. Perfect, more like a Good Luck Chuck, but at the moment, he feels like he could be fucking Superman for this woman. And he's only exchanged a few words with her so far.

  She arches a brow and it’s literally the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed in his life. “Anything?” He senses a challenge in her tone. 

  “Try me,” he encourages.

  She bites her bottom lip in thought.

  He lied. Now that’s the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

  “What if I said I wanted a Baby Yodarita?”

  He arches a brow, very much intrigued. “A Baby Yodarita? Never heard of it.”

  She laughs and the sound is music to his ears. “That's because I made up the name. But I figure it would be a green drink that looks like baby Yoda.”

  “So, I take it you’re a Star Wars fan?”

  “Are you a bartender?” 

  Just as he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, since he’s behind the bar serving drinks, he catches her drift and flashes a smirk.

  Could this woman be any hotter? And yes, as he’s asking this question in his head, he’s picturing Chandler Bing and the way he would say it, emphasizing the word be. Gods, he hates that he knows that about Friends. He hates that he actually likes that show.

  “You don't really have to be a Star Wars fan to be a baby Yoda fan though. He's so cute, he's trending on the internet, haven't you seen?”

  He chuckles. “Aye, who hasn't?” 

  She plants her hand on her hip, donning a sultry smirk. “So, are you up for the task, or not?”

  He licks his lips and leans over the bar counter, his eyes locked with hers. He wants to ask her if she fell from heaven. Or if he just died and went to heaven. But he has a feeling cheesy lines wouldn't work on a woman like her. “I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific as to what task you’re referring to, love.” But who the fuck is he kidding? There is nothing he could do for her he would consider a task. 

  Only a pleasure.

  Blush paints her cheeks and she leans over, meeting him halfway until her face is mere inches from his. “I have a few in mind… but how ‘bout that drink, first?” 

  Bloody. Fuck-ing. Hell.

  Her voice is a mixture of sweet and seductive. He doesn’t know how she manages to pull off a combination like that. His eyes drop to her lips and he’s seriously considering kissing the holy fuck out of her over the bar counter, audience be damned. He almost groans just thinking about her soft, luscious looking lips pressed against his, but he swallows the sound before it leaves his throat.

  He lifts his eyes to hers. “Sit tight, sweetheart.” 

  “Okay,” she says with a smile and takes a seat on a barstool. “Oh, and a Cosmo for my sister-in-law.”

  “Coming right up.” It takes every ounce of strength within him to pull away, but somehow he does. 

  He has to take slow, deep breaths to peel his mind from the fantasies he’s already having of him and the blonde temptress watching him intently as he prepares her drink. 

  ~*~

  Emma snorts. She honestly didn’t think he would actually take her seriously. She was only kidding around. But he took her very seriously and eagerly accepted her challenge. And he did an amazing job.

  She stares at the green drink in amusement, impressed, to say the least. He brought it to her in a margarita glass with two lime wedges sticking out like ears. The stem is wrapped in a napkin tied with twine and clearly made to look like Baby Yoda’s coat. And there's a cocktail stick tucked into the twine like a sword. 

  “Well? How did I do?” he asks, eagerly seeking her answer.

  “It's so cute,” she comments honestly. “It looks great, but does it taste as good as it looks?” As she asks that question, she’s looking up into his gorgeous eyes. And she can’t deny she’s wondering the same about him. 

  Does he taste as good as he looks? 

  Before she brings the glass to her lips, he puts up a finger to stop her. 

  “Hold on.” He grabs a toothpick and stabs two cherries, one on each end, before sticking it into the drink, giving the baby Yoda a pair of eyes. “For the finishing touch,” he smirks.

  After she stops laughing, she takes a hesitant drink. Once she takes the first sip, her face sours and she blinks a few times as she swallows. “Wow, that’s strong.” She arches her brow, pinning him with an accusatory stare. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  He chuckles. “Aye, isn't that the intention?” 

  She nods and grins. “This will certainly do the trick.” She rises from the stool and reaches into her back pocket, pulling out her phone case wallet, which holds her phone and money. “How much?” she asks, pulling out some cash.

  He waves off her offer. “The drinks are on me,” he says with a wink.

  “Are you sure? I don't wanna get you in trouble.”

  “Trust me, I won't get in trouble.”

  Taking his word for it, she tucks the cash into her wallet. “Thanks for the drinks, Killian.”

  He arches a sultry brow, making her heart skip a beat. “So, you’ve heard of me, but I have yet to learn your name?”

  She laughs and points at the name embroidered into his shirt. “Yours is right there.”

  “Oh, that,” he chuckles, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he peers down and brushes his fingers over the letters. “My boss insists we have our names displayed on our shirts.”

  “Well, your boss sounds like a pain in the ass.”

  “He is, but I only have to work here for another six months. I’m graduating from SBU in the Spring.”

  She nods as a group of people approach the counter beside her. She glances over at them and shifts her gaze back to him, wishing he had more time to chat, but she knows he has to work. “It's Emma,” she makes sure to tell him before the counter becomes too overcrowded. “My name,” she clarifies, in case that wasn't obvious.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Emma,” he says sweetly, reaching over to shake her hand. When she slips her palm into his, she can feel the sparks from his touch, but instead of shaking her hand, he brings it to his lips and kisses the back of it.

  Oh, God.

  This man’s lips on her skin feel like heaven and sin. She has to clench her thighs to stop the throbbing she feels between her legs.

  Fuck.

  She feels the loss when she pulls her hand away and sees the loss written all over his face. “Well, I should um… I should get back to my sister-in-law,” she stammers after learning how to form words again.

  He scratches behind his ear and opens his mouth to speak before closing it again like he’s nervous about something. “Of course, love.”

  Emma swallows thickly and lingers a bit, patiently waiting for him to say what’s on his mind. 

  He must sense she's waiting for him because as she grabs the drinks and starts to back away from the counter, his voice stops her. “Emma?”

  Good Lord, she loves the way her name slides off his tongue.

  She cocks a brow, hoping he's about to ask for her number. Praying he does. “Yes?”

  “I um… can you come back here before you leave? Say in an hour when it slows down a bit? I’d love to chat with you some more,” he says sincerely.

  Emma purses her lips like she has to mull over his question. The offer is extremely tempting. But she has something else in mind other than talking. Something involving his hands all over her body and her legs wrapped around his hips as he's plunging into her. 

  And you know what? Fuck it.

  She’s sure whatever he has in mind is exactly what she has in mind. Or at least, close to it. “Sure.”

  His eyes widen in excitement and surprise, as though he wasn't actually expecting her to say yes. “Really?”

  She flashes him her sexiest grin. “Yeah, why not? I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “See you then, love. Enjoy your drink. May the booze be with you.” 

  She snorts and backs away from the counter, holding up her glass in salute before taking a sip. Their eyes are still locked before she turns around.

  As she walks away, she cranes her neck to see him still watching her, even as he's serving other customers. She winks at him and has the pleasure of witnessing that adorable pink blush coloring his cheeks and the smirk on his lips before she faces forward and heads back to Mary Margaret. 

  She’s not looking forward to the lecture her sister-in-law is about to give her, but honestly, she doesn't care. She's looking forward to returning to the hot bartender, hoping to go back to his bedroom. Or the restroom. Either will do, really. As long as she gets to have him.

  After Mary Margaret is done chewing Emma out and reminding her of what a player Killian is, and after she finally realizes Emma is going to do what she wants, regardless of what anyone says, they are able to have some fun. 

  Ruby keeps the drinks coming, and soon they’re tipsy enough to get up and dance among the crowd of gyrating bodies already on the dance floor. Emma glances over at the counter every now and then, and every other time, she catches Killian staring at her, sending shivers down her spine. And every time he tosses her one of his cheeky smiles, her stomach flutters with butterflies. 

  Emma's thankful Mary Margaret is plastered enough to let loose and not give her any shit because she has no idea what Mary Margaret would do if Emma told her she's going back to talk to Killian. Though she has a feeling if Mary Margaret were sober, she'd do anything in her power to make sure Emma stayed away from him. 

  When the time finally comes, they order an Uber, which takes much longer than expected. She helps Mary Margaret into the backseat and tells her she's staying for a bit longer and will catch another Uber when she's ready to leave. She doesn't dare mention Killian's name, or that she plans on leaving with him, for fear Mary Margaret will blabber to her brother. Because then he'll come marching into the bar on his white horse to find his sister with the bartender and embarrass the hell out of her.

  Mary Margaret's too drunk and in no shape to talk her out of anything, so Emma’s able to escape, knowing her brother will take care of his wife when she gets home. 

  Emma quickly shoots David a text to let him know his wife had a few too many drinks and is on her way home in an Uber and that Emma decided to stay a little longer but will be home soon. Which is a lie. 

  She hopes. 

  Before the Uber drives away, Emma slips her phone into her pocket before heading back into the bar. She's fifteen minutes late, but it's not like Killian can go anywhere. He’s the bartender.

  Once inside, she takes a deep breath and tucks some hair behind her ears, a smile playing along her lips as she makes her way to the bar counter. She has no idea what exactly will happen once she reaches him, but with a face as gorgeous as his, she’s pretty sure she would let him do anything he wanted to.

  She’s also pretty sure he could help Emma get over her ex. As they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

  As Emma nears the counter and spots Killian, the beaming smile on her face immediately falls flat.

  And her heart sinks.

  A busty blonde is standing at the bar, her hand running up and down Killian’s arm, her fingers tracing his tattoos. The woman is sitting on a barstool at the opposite side of the counter in a low-cut top that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and a skirt so short and tight it looks like it's been painted on. Killian’s standing in front of her, so his back is to Emma as he gives his full attention to the other blonde. It's almost time for last call, so it's now much quieter in the bar, and she's close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

  “What can I get you, love?”

  “A Tequila.”

  “Tequilas are trouble,” he says matter-of-factly.

  She moves in closer, biting her smile. “So am I,” she taunts.

  “I’m fully aware,” he replies with a chuckle. He tries to move, probably to make her Tequila, but she grabs his arm, forcing him to stay. Though, forcing is a bit of an overstatement; Killian doesn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. “Would you like a snack, too?”

  Mischief dances in her eyes as she licks her lips, ogling him like he’s the snack. “I’m looking at it, honey.”

  Emma feels like she's going to be sick. 

  The woman leans in and bites his ear and then pulls away slightly. “Last weekend was incredible. Can’t stop thinking about having my legs wrapped around you,” she giggles.

  Jealousy stabs Emma’s gut and disappointment shoots through her like a lightning bolt, bringing her back to reality.

  Mary Margaret and Ruby were totally right. 

  He’s a player. 

  Unable to listen to them for another second, Emma spins on her heels and dashes out the door so fast, she almost tramples over some guys heading in at the last minute. 

  She should’ve listened to the warnings, but she was too blinded by the attraction she felt for Killian. 

  God, she’s a fucking idiot. 

  Why does she always fall for the dangerous guys? The ones who are bad for her? Why can’t she just find a nice guy for once? Someone safe. Someone who won’t stomp on her heart and discard it like trash without batting an eye.

  She pushes open the door, tears stinging her eyes as she runs outside into the bitter, chilly night, hoping the Uber driver hasn’t taken off yet. But it's wishful thinking because she can't think of a reason why he wouldn't have left by now.

  “Ooof.”

  The air rushes from her lungs as she slams into a tall, solid mass. 

  Hands are gripping her arms to keep her from falling as apologies leave her lips. “Sorry.” She looks up at the man towering over her, Emma's eyes connecting with soft blue ones, which are full of apology. 

  He flashes a warm smile, his lips framed by a light brown scruff.

  “I’m the one who should be sorry, lass. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” 

  Shit.

  He has an accent too? 

  What’s with all the accents in this town? She’s noticed a lot of the locals here weren’t actually born here. Or the States. She didn’t realize how much she liked men with foreign accents until tonight.

  This man continues to apologize, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. At least not for crashing into her. “I was distracted,” he says with a smirk, giving Emma the impression she was what he was distracted by.

  Emma tears herself from the trance she’s in and glances at the side of the road, where the Uber once was. “Shit,” she curses under her breath.

  “Are you okay?” he asks in genuine concern.

  “Yeah, it’s just… my ride has already left. And I’m too drunk to drive home,” she sighs.

  Before the man can respond, his phone chimes from his jacket. “Excuse me,” he says apologetically, pulling out the device. He studies whatever’s on the screen with a worried expression, then looks up at her, his mouth slightly agape.

  “Everything okay?” she asks with an arched brow, starting to shiver as a frigid wind sweeps around her.

  “Um, yeah.” He glances at his phone again before lifting his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to be Emma, would you?”

  She freezes and just stares at him, not knowing how to answer that. Or rather, why she should answer that.

  What the hell? 

  She's never seen this man before in her life, so how does he know her name? 

  Her heart pounds and she wants to run, but she's afraid she’s not sober enough for that at the moment. “How do you know my name?”

  He appears to be hesitant as he holds up his phone, showing her his screen.

  Emma takes it in her hands so she can get a better look.

  Her eyes widen when she sees a text from a Nolan.

  Nolan, as in her brother? Who else with the last name, Nolan, lives with a Mary Margaret and an Emma?

  Nolan: I just received a text from Emma. She sent Mary Margaret home in an Uber and is at your bar. Can you make sure she gets home all right?

  Her blood sizzles as she rereads the message. Then she reads the texts before it, a couple in particular sticking out like sore thumbs.

  Nolan: So… I have a huge favor to ask.

  Me: Sure, what’s up, mate?

  Nolan: The wife and sister are going to the Rabbit Hole tonight. Emma just moved here from New York after a terrible break-up and Mary Margaret is determined to hook her up with someone.

  Nolan: Think you have time to get away from work and keep an eye on my sister, make sure she doesn’t find any trouble? 

  What the actual fuck?

  Why is her brother having this man spy on her?

  Emma turns around and pulls back the hand still holding the phone, about to toss the damn thing.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t shoot the messenger, love,” he pleads. “I need my phone.”

  The endearment makes her shiver. Killian had called her love, too.

  She spins around to glare at the stranger. “David’s using you to spy on me?” she demands firmly.

  He holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to, lass, I promise, but I would’ve felt terrible if I said no and then, later on, found out something bad happened to you. I promise, I was only helping a friend and looking out for you.”

  Emma sighs and hands his phone back, knowing he’s telling the truth. She saw his responses to David’s texts and gathered he didn’t wish to put his nose where it didn’t belong or to stir up any trouble. “David always has been good at persuading people,” she grumbles.

  “Aye, especially when it comes to protecting the ones he loves,” he winks. 

  “Even so, he has no business spying on me!” she states louder than intended.

  “I wholeheartedly agree,” he states adamantly, making sure to express how much he was against this whole idea, to begin with.

  Emma crosses her arms over her chest, wondering how she never saw him at the Rabbit Hole when she was there. “So, you spied on me at the Rabbit Hole?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t get the chance to. By the time I got there, you and Mary Margaret were already gone.”

  Emma shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the thought of her own brother asking someone to spy on her. But she’s not surprised. “Brothers are so annoying,” she grumbles.

  He chuckles, and the deep, hearty sound warms her heart a little, despite the chill in the air. “Agreed.”

  She arches her brow, as though to ask him to expand on why.

  “I have one of those, too. So I get it.”

  Emma’s features soften, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Older or younger?”

  “Younger. He can be quite the ponce sometimes, but at the end of the day, I’d lay down my life for him.”

  “I usually feel the same about David… and then he goes and pulls something like this,” Emma remarks bitterly.

  “I take it he does this a lot?”

  “He did when we were younger. But then I moved to New York and he came here, so we didn’t see each other very much.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  Another gust of wind makes her shiver and has him removing his jacket and offering it to her. Even though she’s already wearing one.

  “May I?”

  She cocks a brow. “Won’t you be cold?”

  He shrugs. “I rarely get cold.”

  She gives him a soft nod. He looks like he’d be the type of man who knows how to stay warm, and therefore knows how to keep a woman warm. He has those big, strong arms and broad shoulders, and he’s very tall. She could picture herself being buried in his warmth, but maybe because she's currently freezing her ass off. “Thanks,” she murmurs when he goes behind her and drapes the jacket over her shoulders. 

  “It’s my pleasure, love.” When he’s standing in front of her again, he sticks out his hand. “The name’s Liam.”

  Emma smiles and slips her palm in his. 

  She was right. He is warm. Very warm. “I think David’s mentioned your name a few times.”

  “Probably not as much as he talks about you. In fact, I feel like I already know you,” he chuckles as they break the handshake.

  “Hopefully, he had good things to say?” She almost groans at the idea of David spewing a bunch of embarrassing stories about her from when she was a kid.

  “Aye. Very good things… well, mostly,” he admits. “But who doesn’t have at least a complaint or two about their siblings?”

  She nods in agreement. “True. I complain about him all the time.”

  He grins big and wide. “I don’t doubt that.” When his smile fades a little, he scratches his head as he looks at her, hesitant to form the next words he wants to say. “Well, uh… seeing as it’s,” he checks his watch, “almost two o’clock and not getting any warmer out here, how about I give you a ride home?”

  Emma twists her lips in thought. Normally she wouldn’t even think twice about rejecting a ride from a stranger, but there’s something about this guy that tells her he’s not a serial killer or rapist. There’s something pure about him, a vast contrast to the bartender inside. That guy screamed danger and sin, but this man standing before her gives off completely different vibes. He has a warm personality, which is very refreshing, and he has honest eyes. Besides, she may not be able to stand her brother and his antics sometimes, but he's always had good taste in friends. And if David trusts Liam enough to keep tabs on his sister, then he must be trustworthy.

  So with a feeble smile, she finally answers. “Okay.”

Tagging people who have shown interest. Let me know if you would like to be added. @itsfabianadocarmo​ @resident-of-storybrooke @onceuponaprincessworld @viajandosinalas @teamhook​ @captainswan-shipper88 @jamif @katielovesstarcrossedlovers @uhthreeyuh @lfh1226-linda @babyyouremyqueen @sthonour @julesep3026 @fairytalewhispersinmyheart @andiirivera @wefoundloveunderthelight @wickedsw4n @eleveneitherway @eherron14 @ouatpost @transparentclodsludgeweasel

[xoluvx]

wish you were gay; zendaya

(gif)

The touch of her hand on your face was warm; you could tell her hand had been tucked under her pillow. The warmth radiated through your body all the way to your heart as your eyes fluttered opened. 

The smile on your face quickly vanished when you realized it was all in your head. Your bed was cold and empty. Sighing, you rolled on your back; your eyes were sensitive to the sun peaking through the curtains and your tummy grumbled signaling it was to get up. 

You really wished you could stay in bed and dream just a little longer.

“He’s here,” Sarah warned you handing you her cup of coffee. Sarah was your boss. The cup came flying at you and you had to act quickly to ensure you didn’t spill it. Being part of the crew for this film was much less luxurious than you’d expected, but that was show business. 

He was indeed there leaning against her as they watched one of the actors walk through a scene. Their heads were slightly touching, cozied up in their oversized jackets. 

“Here’s your coffee,” you said clearing your throat while handing her the cup trying to avoid eye contact. She straightened her body reaching to grab the warm cup.

“Thank you, you are incredible!” She responded bringing the cup to her lips. She carefully took a sip. The guy next to her didn’t move. You awkwardly excused yourself looking over your shoulder sneakily once you were at a distance. She was still sitting up with the coffee held up to her lips. 

“Gosh, you’re so in love,” Sarah echoed as she stood next to you with a clipboard stiff against her chest. Your shoulders straightened up as you heard her voice. This was so embarrassing. Did everyone know? Did she know?

“Leave me alone,” you replied jokingly really hoping she’d finally stop bugging you. But as long as this movie continued, that was not going to happen and your feelings for her weren’t going anywhere. Though you really wished they would just vanish.

“I’m not working tomorrow so you have to step up. That includes spending the entire day with her,” she warned with a teasing undertone in her voice. 

“As long as he’s not here, I think I’ll be okay.” You hummed watching the two of them cozy up once again. Her coffee cup now resting on the floor next to her. Her legs slightly draped over his lap.  

Your day couldn’t have finished quicker. 

The next day, your legs felt heavy as you walked towards the set. Your coat hanging heavy on your shoulders. Skipping breakfast had probably not been a good idea, but you’d been so restless the previous night and decided to use the extra time in the morning to sleep. Pure regret.

“That one is really good,” her voice creeped up next to you as her slender finger pointed at a granola bar on the plain white table. She was reaching for a muffin at the same time.

“Isn’t it your job to tell me what’s good?” she joked and you coughed up a sheepish laugh feeling your face burn with embarrassment. 

“It’s no excuse, but I had a busy morning so-” you explained lifting the granola bar she’d suggested knowing damn well your morning was filled with sleep. 

“Happens to all us,” she comforted smiling while picking off a piece of the muffin before placing it in her mouth. “So you’re stuck with me all day,” she dragged out her words in a joking manner which caused you to shift on your feet as you nodded like an idiot. 

“I have the list of everything you need today and besides that, you can reach me -” you were rambling playing with the clipboard resting on the table that had all your tasks for today. 

“Relax,” she exhaled placing a hand on your shoulder. At first her hand laid flatly on your shoulder, her thumb near your collarbone. Slowly, and almost naturally, her hand fell to your upper arm and she gave you a small reassuring squeeze. Her face radiating with a warm smile and suddenly, you felt relaxed.

To say the day was easy would’ve been a complete lie. She wasn’t hard to handle, she was very chill. But your heart skipped a beat each time she came around so today your heart was on high alert the entire day. You couldn’t wait to get home and think of how her way her hair fell on her face. Or how her laughter filled a room and brightened up the mood. 

“So how’d she do?” Sarah asked the next day as you stood besides her awkwardly. Zendaya was standing facing the two of you with her usual radiant smile. “She was great,” she gave you a small glance. You could’ve sworn you saw a twinkle in her eye. Maybe it was just your imagination again. Wishful thinking. 

“I know this doesn’t happen often, but I’d like her to be my full time assistant-“ she started saying focusing on the woman. “-if that’s okay,” she finished her sentence glancing at you as if asking for permission, but the smile she flashed you afterward was almost flirtatious. You could feel your face burning. Your heart thumping and you hands shaking. 

“Oh, really?” Sarah asked giving you a mischievous look wondering what it was you’d done that made Zendaya so eager to have you as her assistant. Geez, you wished you knew too. You couldn’t hide the nerves that were coursing through your body as you cleared your throat. Never in a million years did you think you’d be in this situation. 

“It can be arranged,” she nudged you on the shoulder and you stammered a ‘thank you’ to Zendaya who just shrugged and smiled sweetly. 

It’d been almost a month since you became her full-time assistant. Your job had never been so easy yet so complicated. Working with her was like working with your best friend, a best friend you were in love with. As much as you tried repressing those feelings, especially when you’d see him coming on set and making her giggle her very distinct giggle, it was simply impossible.

Whatever was growing inside you was becoming untamable and you felt like your feelings were going to spill out any second. 

She, on the other hand, was composed. Though you knew your relationship was strictly professional, there were glances and sometimes subtle touches that turned you to mush. But then he’d come around and it was if you didn’t exist.  

“I need advice,” she announced turning from the chair she was sitting on in front of the mirror in her trailer. You were waiting for her patiently on the small couch in the trailer playing with the clipboard resting on your lap. 

“What’s up?” you still felt nervous and awkward around her. You saw her get up from the chair and take a seat at the other end of the couch. Her arm resting on the back of the couch. 

“So Tom wants me to go with him to this premiere,” she started saying talking with her hands. You straightened up at the sound of his name. You couldn’t deny that the topic made you uncomfortable and you couldn’t bare to hear her talk about someone else. 

“I sense a but,” you added watching her lean her head on her hand. She motioned to move your clipboard from your lap and you watched her move her body so her head was on your lap. Her hair sprawled across your thighs; her legs stretched over the small couch. Her hands were resting on her belly as she stared up at the ceiling. She made herself comfortable. You, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do with your hands. You awkwardly held them at your sides watching her. 

“But I don’t want people to start rumors. I mean, I love Tom. Don’t get me wrong, he’s like my best friend. I just don’t want people to start making up lies. Everyone already thinks we’re a thing-” she was still rambling about her predicament but your focus had diverted to what she’d just said. Were they not a thing? 

“I’m confused,” you called out stopping her.

“About what?” she asked now looking at you with those sweet, round, brown eyes.

“You’re not dating Tom?” you asked. Your voice almost raspy and most definitely shaky.

“Of course not!” She laughed slightly still resting her hands on her moving belly.

“I just assumed-” you started saying as you subconsciously let one of your fingers play with a tussle of hair cascading down the side of your thigh. You tended to fidget a lot when you were nervous and her hair was the first thing in reach. 

“We’re just friends,” she said softly. She’d felt your finger twirling her hair and her voice had grown more gentle as did her eyes. She could see your chest rising and falling as you tried controlling your breathing. She got up slowly and you let go of her hair. 

When she sat up she was closer than she’d been earlier. Her arm extended so it was draped on the couch behind your body. 

“I thought it was obvious,” she whispered watching your face closely as if she were trying to memorize your features. 

“That you and Tom weren’t a thing? You two seem pretty close-” you babbled trying to avoid eye contact. 

“No. That I like you,” she breathed putting emphasis on her confession. One hand was on your cheek turning your face towards hers. Your eyes locked. You could swim laps in those deep brown eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her lips slightly parted. 

“Me?” you croaked. Your hands were shaking at your sides; you felt all the warmth draining from your body.

“Yes, you. Silly,” she exclaimed chuckling still holding your face. You couldn’t believe your ears. You couldn’t believe her touch. She was warm. Just like you’d fantasize in your dreams. Just like you’d imagined. Just like you’d wish.

You couldn’t find the words to describe what you felt. So you boldly placed a hand on her cheek. 

“May I?” you whispered only inches away from her pouting lips. She nodded with a hint of a smile on eyes. Nervously, you closed the gap between your faces. Your lips shyly pressed against hers. With every nanosecond you felt yourself melting into her. 

You didn’t have to wish anymore.

- 

tags: @the-codeine-scene @lavender-writer​

[barney-james]

Reunion Drama || Chris Evans Imagine

{anon} Can I request Chris finding out you and you’re male best friend used to be friends with benefits

A/n i’m not sure how it got where it did my mind just kind of ran, but i love this, also it’s long and probably should’ve been broken into parts, but i’m one of those people who most of the time won’t read something on here in multiple parts (i don’t know why lmao). It also saves the waiting for the next part and easier to put in the masterlist i’m going to make.

Warnings angsty and sad, fluff and nudity at the end but no smut

*gif not mine*

The shower turns off in the bathroom, and through the open door, you can hear your boyfriend get out and sigh. You lean in the door way and look at him, his back facing you as he wraps a clean white towel around his hips. He looks up in the mirror, seeing you staring at him from behind. 

“Like what you see?” he smirks, folding the towel in so it won’t fall.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his usual cockiness. “You know,” you begin, walking across the tile towards him, your hand brushing water out of the hair at the base of his neck. “I’d tease you about taking longer than me to get ready, but you waited until the absolute last second to get in the shower.” You run your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“I didn’t take that long,” he chuckles. “It’s fine.”

“I have been sitting out there, getting wrinkles in my dress and scrolling through channels on the TV for 45 minutes,” you explain. “You decided it best to start getting ready when I’m completely done. Why’d you take 45 minutes anyway?”

“Had to carefully trim the beard, babe,” he retorts, turning his head and kissing you cheek. He steps away from you and grabs his deodorant off of the counter. “Besides, we’ll still get there in time.”

“It started 20 minutes ago, Chris,” you laugh, poking his sides and making him jolt.

“Fashionably late is on time these days. Why are you in such a rush? You hate everyone that’s going to be there.”

“Ethan’s been there waiting.” Your best friend since childhood, Ethan, was also attending the event this evening, seeing as how it’s a 20 year high school reunion. He’d gotten to know Chris pretty well, and they got along well when he’d come visit you in Boston. 

“Will you use my phone to get an Uber?” your fiance asks, looking at you over his shoulder. “It’s on the dresser. I just need to get dresses. Give me like 5 minutes.” He turns and kisses your head, following you out of the bathroom. 

You grab his phone off the dresser and stand by the window, looking at the final moments of the sunset as you wait for the Uber app to load. 

“10 minutes,” you tell him, turning around to see him already buttoning up his shirt. “How do you get dressed so fast?”

“I wear formal clothes a lot more than the average person, honey,” he says as you walk over to him. He grabs a tie from the dresser and wraps it around his neck, waiting for you to tie it for him like you usually do.

“It’s not that special,” you laugh. “You don’t need a tie.” You slide the silk material through your fingers.

“But look at you,” he gestures to you. “You look all dressed up and pretty.” His hands fall to your waist and you smile, pulling him closer to you by the tie still draped over his shoulders. You connect your lips to his in a hot passionate kiss. He pulls your hips closer to him, trying to wrap his arms around you, but you pull away.

You slide the tie out of his collar and put it back on the dresser. When you look back at him, your lipstick had smeared over his lips messily. You wipe your thumb across his lips, biting your lip.

“You can’t do that if you’re really going to make me go out in 5 minutes,” he says sternly, looking into your eyes. 

You step back from him and back into the bathroom to fix your lipstick.

“Uber’s here, babe,” Chris calls into the bathroom.

You meet him by the door and unlock it, open it and wait for him. He grabs the door and meets you in the hall, walking with you arm in arm to the elevator. You sit in comfortable silence while waiting to reach the lobby. You look over at him lovingly, smiling, and see that his shirt is still buttoned up all the way as he thought he’d wear a tie. You turn to him, pulling his arm so he faces you, too, and you undo the top few buttons on the shirt, revealing the perfect about of skin. 

The elevator door opens and you’re still toying with his shirt. He clears his throat and you look up at him, scrunch your nose cutely and walk out of the elevator with his hand in yours. As you walk out of the hotel lobby and to the Uber, Chris steps ahead of you and opens the door for you. You thank him as you duck your head and get into the car. A short moment after closing your door, he opens the door on the other side of the car and gets in himself.

“Smells like rain,” he comments, grabbing your hand.

“That’s typical.”

You engage in casual conversation with your driver, mostly Chris as you sit nervously smoothing your hands over your satin dress. Chris notices and simply squeezes your thigh, knowing you’re nervous to see all your old class mates again.

When you reach the venue, you thank the driver, and get out before Chris could reach your side of the car to help you. He looks at you disapprovingly and you just nudge his shoulder and grab his hand. You pull your phone out of your clutch and text Ethan to let him know you’ve arrived.

“Ah shit,” you hear Chris say beside you. You look over at him confused and see him tucking his shirt into his pants. “You noticed the buttons but not that it was untucked?”

“Cuffs, too,” you point out, and he buttons his cuffs while you walk with your arm in his into the old school gym. The music is loud, and of course it’s mostly 90s and early 2000s.

“I have to piss,” you hear Chris say.

“Oh my god, Chris,” you laugh. “We just got here.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies adjusting his pants. You point him towards the bathroom, he kisses your cheek quickly and walks off. 

You begin to make your way over to the bar they’ve set up, and Ethan catches up with you.

“Y/n!” the familiar voice calls. You turn to see him rushing towards you, and you pull him into a hug. “Where’s Chris?” he asks when he pulls away from your friendly embrace. 

“Bathroom,” you roll your eyes.

“Of course,” he laughs. “Let’s get you a drink.”

Ethan walks with you to the bar, catching up with you since it had been a couple months since you had last seen each other. Of course there wasn’t much new to talk about since you’d text and call him every time something exciting or annoying happens.

When you reach the bar, you notice name tags sitting at the far end. ‘oh geez,’ you think to yourself and go to find yours.

“I already grabbed it for you,” Ethan says, fishing it out of his pocket. “Don’t want anyone seeing your school photo from senior year.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laugh and take the tag from your friend, noticing that he had crossed out ‘Ms Y/n Y/l/n’ and put ‘soon Mrs Y/n Evans’. You laugh at your best friend and his silliness.

“Oo, I haven’t seen it yet,” Ethan says and grabs your left hand, holding it up to his face to inspect your engagement ring. “So much prettier than the pictures, hon.”

“Thanks,” you blush.

“That man sure does have a wallet,” he pesters you. 

You look at him with the ‘stop it’ face, and he puts his hands up, defeated. You both hear his name get called, and he turns to see his girlfriend waving him over. You wave at her politely and she smiles back at you. 

Ethan looks at you. “Get him to send me a link,” he says, pointing to your ring with a wink as he walks back to his date.

You straighten your back, standing tall trying to hid your nerves of currently being alone at this horrid event. You only came to flaunt Chris. He wasn’t your only accomplishment, but he’s the one most people would notice, or talk about. 

The bartender hands you your drink, you thank him and put it down beside you while you stuff the name tag into you purse, not wanting to put it on.

“Y/n?” you hear a voice call. You look up and see a woman parade towards you.

You curse to yourself, wishing you hadn’t been noticed. Your personality and style had changes a lot in the past 20 years, and you rarely post online, but your face never really changes.

Except for her. You recognized most people here, but you didn’t recognize her, yet she wore a name tag, so she had gone to your school. You couldn’t quite read the name tag, and as politely as possible, you look at her quizzically, silently asking who she is.

“It’s Stephanie!” she say excited. Your taken aback. You thought she was overly pretty in high school, being a popular cheerleader, but apparently not pretty enough, because she had obviously had some unnecessary work done. Talk a bout a Karen. Not only did her appearance surprise you, but the fact that she was talking to you. She had been a terrible friend, that you wish you’d never had, and you both said some nasty things at graduation. Why is she acting like nothing happened? 

“Oh, hi,” you greet her. She starts a dreaded, yet casual conversation to catch up, luckily focusing it on herself so you don’t have to talk about you, but that’s natural for her -- being the center of attention. She tells you about her husband, a lawyer, who unfortunately couldn’t make it to the event. She tells you she’s his secretary, and that they have 3 kids. 4, 9, and 15. You zone out at the rest, wondering how she met a lawyer and had a kid with him at 23. It seemed unreal for her to actually find real love and not just be playing a game. You concluded that they probably hooked up once or twice, and she got pregnant and with her master manipulation somehow convinced him to stay. 

“What about you?” she asks, and your shoulders drop, not wanting to talk about your own life. “I heard you and Ethan started sleeping together in college. He’s always been hot. Is that still a thing?”

“No, it’s not. I’m -” you begin but get interrupted buy someone clearing their throat behind Stephanie. She turns around and sees Chris standing behind her. 

Chris looks surprised, angry even, He considered Ethan a friend at this point, but he was unaware of the fact he just heard. You didn’t think to mention it, it having been so many years ago. It didn’t seem relevant or important until Stephanie let it slip.

She was dumb-struck looking at Chris. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “I heard you were here. I didn’t want to believe it until I saw it for myself. Who are you here with?” 

Chris walks around her and over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “My fiance,” he answers. He grabs your hand and holds it out for Stephanie to see the large rock on your left ring finger. You blush as her jaw practically hits the floor. 

She takes a step closer to the two of you, Chris towering over you both. “How much did she pay you?” she laughs, obviously not believing the situation. “How did she pay you? She certainly couldn’t afford something this extreme.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, thinking it typical of her. Chris looks at her in disbelief and pulls you away from the snooty bitch, his arm wrapped tightly around you. He pulls you out of the gym to the lobby, walking so fast you could barely keep up, and you were stumbling over your heels. 

“Chris what’re you doing?” you ask, worried. 

He drops his arm from around you and turns away from you, several steps away. he runs his hands over his face and through his hair. 

“Chris?” you say again, more concerned. He only ever acted like this when he was mad, and seeing him mad was never pleasant.

He turns back to you, dropping his arms by his side. “How long?”

“How long what, Chris?” you are still very confused. 

“Don’t bullshit me and try to play dumb, Y/n,” he says, his voice gradually getting louder. “How long were you and Ethan sleeping together?”

You sigh, finally realizing what this was about. You could always tell he was wary of Ethan, you just wondered how long it would take him to say something. You look up at him, a mix of angry and sad tears prickling your eyes.

“How long?!” he yells.

You wince, feeling lucky that the music in the gym was so loud. “A year or two,” you say quietly and he huffs, throwing his arms up in the air, “but it doesn’t matter.” 

Chris turns away from you again, facing the wall and slamming his hand against it. You know it wasn’t anywhere near full force because he showed no sign of the impact against the brick wall hurting him. You jump back, intimidated by him. 

“There were never any strings attached,” your voice cracks. “It was purely friends with benefits. We both just needed the physical affection.” As you try to explain, you step closer to him, putting your hand on his shoulder as he leans against his forearm up against the wall with his head hanging, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He jerks away from your touch as soon as your hand grazes his shirt. “Do you know how many ‘friends with benefits’ relationships end in feelings, Y/n?” he looks at you, astounded. “Your mom always wanted you to marry him anyway!” He takes a few breaths, but you don’t dare try to interrupt him. “And you just expect me to believe that Hot-Shot Ethan, who can have whoever the fuck he wants, chose to fuck around with you?” His voice is louder than it had ever been when talking to you.

His words hit you like a slap across the face. Like high school all over. Before college, before you cut off trying to find a romantic interest, all you had ever been was used, played, lead on. Then forgotten about or thrown away. A sob wracks through your body, and you take off your engagement ring. The logical part of you knows he’s just saying this because he’s mad, and he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him if he were just using you. But then your paranoid and insecure side tells you he is, that he’s just with you because the media thinks he needs a wife. It tells you you’ve never been good enough, and you never will be. You grip the ring tightly in your hand, the stone pressing into your soft skin. 

“He trusts me, Chris,” you say weakly, covering your sobs with your other hand. “And I thought you did, too.” Your voice is broken, and you sound nothing like your normally composed self. You press your hand with the ring against his chest. “I thought you loved me. But apparently I’m wrong about a lot of things.” You let the ring drop from your hand as you pull away from him and trudge away, your broken heart making it difficult for you to walk straight. You hear Chris calling after you, asking you to wait. Saying not to go, but you ignore his pleads and open the door, stepping into the rain unfazed, letting your feet take you anywhere away from here. 

Chris watches you leave, wanting to run after you but glued to the spot. The words that left his mouth astound him. The creaky gym door open behinds him, and he swings around to see Ethan walking towards him. Chris wants to scream, maybe even throw a punch, but all energy suddenly sucked from his body, he can only collapse on the bench next to him. 

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asks as Chris hangs his head in his hands and puts pressure on his eyes with his palm. “I asked Stephanie where Y/n went, she said you pulled her out of the gym really suddenly.”

“I should be screaming at you right now,” Chris says, his voice loud, but hoarse from the need to cry burning his throat. “How could you to just hide the fact you were sleeping together and go around like it never happened. Are you still?”

Realization hits Ethan. Stephanie hears everything about everyone, and word spreads fast, especially since you and Ethan both went to the local university. She would spill anything she hears in high school, craving the drama. Evidently, some people never change. 

“That was nothing,” Ethan explains. “We were both lonely college kids, and old friends who needed company. We were comfortable around each other, it was just easy. But it meant nothing. Not feelings developed on either side.”

“Why’d you stay friends with her?” Chris’ voice finally breaks.

“We’ve been best friends since kindergarten, and we mutually agreed to stop when we left college. I’m not just going to abandon her like everyone else she let close. It shouldn’t matter. We didn’t think it would because she loves and is completely committed to you. You should at least know by now that she doesn’t take loyalty lightly.”

Chris’ body shakes as he tries to hold back his tears and he doesn’t say anything. 

A shiny glint a ways from Chris’ foot, and bends down, finding your engagement ring on the ground. “Where’d she go?” Ethan asks, picking up the ring. “Where’s Y/n, Chris?”

“She left,” Chris sobs. “I -” he inhales deeply. “I told her a hot-shot like you wouldn’t chose her.”

“Chris, what the fuck?!”

“I know! I-I just couldn’t bare the thought of losing her to you -- to someone she’s known her whole life. I just love her so much any possible threat of losing her blinds me and I just say stupid shit that I don’t really think. I can’t lose her; she’s the best thing to every happen to me.”

Ethan, knowing you so well, and loving you like a sister, fights the urge to hit Chris, knowing he’ll most likely lose, for one, and for two that won’t help the situation. Chris is already extremely distraught, so there’s no need to physically drill him with the emotional damage he’s done.

“I know where she might me,” Ethan starts. “I’ll go find her. You go back to the hotel before you do anything else you’ll regret.”

Chris jumps off the bench, angry. “No, you stay the hell away from her! Just because I fucked up by saying that shit doesn’t mean I trust you,” he yells, almost the top of his voice, and jabs a finger into Ethan’s chest, pushing him backwards slightly. 

“I know her better than you do, jackass,” Ethan yells back at Chris. “She won’t talk to you anyway, at least not now. We’re best friends, and I have always been there for her as she has for me. One thing I do know without being with her right now, Y/n needs you. Not because she can’t support herself, but because she loves you so damn much. But after what you just said, her walls are going to built back higher than they were when you met her because she feels like she can’t have you. And if she can’t have you -- the love of her life -- then she won’t want anyone. So she needs me. She needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on, someone to tell her everything is going to be okay. Someone she can trust and vent to like she always has. So, yeah, Chris. I am going to find her.”

Ethan turns and walks out the doors before Chris can protest further, shoving your engagement ring in his pocket in hopes of convincing you to take it, and Chris back. He get’s outside, and a nostalgic feeling hits him, and guides him to the most logical place you’d be before he could even thing about it. He did think about it once he realized where he was going. And he felt like a teenager again, running after his best friend who just got her heart ripped out. That was true, accept he was twenty years older now. So he goes to the place you’d always run and hide, where he could always find you when he lost you. He goes to the park, a couple streets over from the school. The walk is longer than he remembers, and he sympathizes for you, thinking about the heels and dress you’re wearing, how cold you must be in the freezing rain with no jacket, only a thin dress. The walk always seemed shorter and less inclined as a kid, but that was probably because being 20 years younger gave you more energy.

He reaches the park, passing the play grounds you and him used to play on as kids, and even some as teenagers. He heads to the back, where a large open space sits, a stage at the front of it. Local bands or school music groups would play on the stage sometimes, mostly during the holidays, otherwise it was unused. As he had suspected, he saw you sitting on the stage, your feet hanging off the edge. He walks closer, picking his pace to a faster jog, and stops at the wall of the stage, when he’s below you, making you look at him as you look at your feet. 

You look at his worried expression when you see him, and the tears the stopped not long ago came running back. You thought you had dried out your eyes to the point you couldn’t cry anymore, but it turns out you were emotionally numb to the pain you’ve already felt. Cut the knife into the wound more, and you could still feel it.

Ethan climbs the stage, sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shaking form. Shaking from the cold, and crying. He holds you a moment, letting you lean on his shoulder as you cry, before he says anything. 

“Y/n,” he starts, but you don’t respond. You don’t even look at him. “You should go talk to Chris.”

You inhale shakily as you sit up. “I thought he was different,” you sob. “I thought he’d be different than everyone else. Everyone just treats me like shit. Use me. Lead me on. Play me. Throw me away. Forget about me. He’s the same as all of them. I always thought  he’d be different. Even when he was just a stupid celebrity crush. But I was wrong. I’m always wrong. He used me, played me. Worse than anyone. It’s all I’ve ever gotten. Maybe it’s what I deserve. I’ve never been good enough”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Y/n,” Ethan exclaims. “You are worth everything. You’re an amazing friend, an amazing person. You’re unbelievably smart -- you’re an attending surgeon for god’s sake. You did that on your own.  You’re strong and you don’t let anything challenge you.”

“That’s because i got over everyone treating me like shit.” You laugh at your own stupidity, wiping at your tears. “I avoided talking to anyone if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But then Chris waltzes into my life, convinced me he’s the love of my life, and then rips my heart out.”

“Chris is the love of your life, stupid,” Ethan laughs. “His love for you -- God, I’ve never seen anything like it. That man loves you more than anything. He’s scared of losing you, Y/n, and, take it from another guy, we get scared and we say shit we would never mean. He’s broken. He broke himself when he said that, and in all honesty, he seems more broken then you. You need each other.”

You sit, listening to your best friend go on about this. And as much as you hate to admit it, Ethan’s right. “Fine,” you sigh.

Ethan orders you an Uber back to the hotel and waits with you in comfortable silence until it arrives. When it does, he stops you before opening the door, and pulls your ring out of his pocket, placing it gingerly in your hand. He opens the door for you, tells the drive to turn on the heat, and waves you off. You get the impression that the drive see’s you’re not in the mood for casual conversation.

When you get up to your hotel room, you quietly open the door. Chris is laying on the bed, crying against the pillow you slept against last night. He’s still wearing his button up and slacks.

“Chris,” you call, barely above a whisper, but still loud enough so he can hear you.

Chris doesn’t respond, thinking his mind is playing tricks on him. 

You put your wet clutch down on the table and crawl onto the bed next to him, wrapping your arms around his shaking body. You had never seen him like this before, and you absolutely hate it. As you hold him, you begin to cry again with hi, silently but your body still trembles. 

“Chris,” you sob out against his shoulder.

He sits up, leaving your arms but then pulling you into his. Your smeared makeup stains his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He only cares that he has you. As he holds you, he says he’s sorry, over and over again. You cry into his chest, gripping onto his shirt. Chris holds your head in his sizable hand, holding you to him as he cries, kissing your hair.

You stay like that, with him repeatedly saying he’s sorry. After a few moments in each other’s arms, where you’re meant to be, you both calm down. Chris moves, cradling your cheeks gently in his hands, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“Y/n,” he says, still breathing shakily as the aftershocks of your bodies persist to wrack through you. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant any of that. You’re the love of my life, and you are perfect in every way shape and form. Any guy would be the luckiest to call you theirs like I get to. I was just scared -- terrified of losing you. Especially to someone you know so well. Someone who has been there for you practically your whole life. I felt like I can’t compete.

You look up at him, tears prickling your eyes again. “You used my biggest insecurity against me,” you tell him, sobs convulsing you once more.

He grabs your waist, pulling you into his lap and stoking your hair. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to ever suggest anything like that. You’re more than good enough. If anything, you’re too good for anyone. I sure as hell don’t deserve you. You deserve the pure world, and I would give it to you in a heartbeat if I could, but this corrupt piece of shit planet we live on doesn’t deserve you. You’re just too good.” With his words, his constant reassurance, you begin to calm down again. “Everyone from your past is stupid. High school and college kids are all drama, sex crazed maniacs. Some people -- you -- don’t deserve to be around such bullshit for so long. That’s life, and there’s no easy way to avoid it. You’re so strong and you prevailed through all you’ve been through. All those assholes were naive. If they had actually taken the time to get to know you, like I do, and if they would get over their stupid everlasting pubescent hormones, like I did, they’d all be begging for you, like I do, and they’d love you more than anything. Like I do. Those five minutes after the bathroom before I found you, when I did find you, everyone’s eyes were on you. You;re beautiful, and when you’re confident like you’ve become it just radiates more. It’s more noticeable. You’ve become so confident since college, you’re still the same adorable geek, but you own it, you don’t shy away from it anymore. You’re proud to be you, and not many people can say that.” He kisses the top of your head as he finishes his spiel.

You look up at him, caressing his cheek gently as you look at him with all the love in the world. “I don’t deserve you, Chris,” you smile pathetically.

“No,” he says seriously. “Nuh-uh. Nope. Don’t start that bullshit. You’re a puppy.” 

You laugh, looking at him confused. 

“Puppies deserve anything they want, but they’re too precious and must be protected at all costs. So are you. Therefore, you are a puppy.”

“How much time have you been spending on twitter?” you laugh at him, feeling overwhelmed with love.

He nudges your shoulder, and you purposely over react and fall over dramatically as he gets off the bed. He takes you into the bathroom and you both get cleaned up from the eventful night that felt like a whole week. You shower together, but neither of you let things get steamy, as you’ve both agreed that sex is not the appropriate way to make up a mistake or argument. He holds you while in the shower, your back pressed to his chest, and he just admires you lovingly as he washes your back. You get in the bed together after putting some random late-night reruns on the TV, and you lay in his arms. 

“My beautiful wife-to-be, you fit so perfectly into my arms,” Chris says, kissing your shoulder. “You were made for me, and I can’t wait to marry you. It’s already the best day of my life, and it hasn’t happened yet.”

You giggle at his lovey-ness, and settle comfortable into your fiance’s arms, falling asleep with ease in your favorite place. 

------

A/n ok now i feel hella fucking lonely, don’t know if you could tell, but i used things my therapist tells me, all while helping my friend deal with his friends. this took forever, and i don’t know how it ended up here, but i love it and my heart is just tangled in different emotions. like damn i need a man like chris/seb but that’s never gonna happen because im not good enough :’)