#not desperate enough to try blind boxes yet but i could get there...

[in-my-loki-feels]

Currently in my "scarf up any merchandise I can find" stage of President Loki obsession. There is, sadly, a real dearth of it. :(

[babyflorencee]

Feeling Diva

Louis Tomlinson x fem!Reader

The dim light of the afternoon slanted through the blinds, casting golden stripes on the couch where Louis lay curled up, he was a tragic sight, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie two sizes too big. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and his nose was a faint shade of pink from all the tissues he’d gone through. Next to him, a box of tissues teetered precariously on the armrest, and an empty mug of tea sat abandoned on the coffee table.

Y/n emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of steaming soup, her hair pulled into a messy bun and her sweater slipping off one shoulder.

“Before you say anything,” Louis drawled from his fortress of pillows, his voice raspy but still sharp, while one of his hands draped over his forehead. “Just know I’m feeling diva today.”

Y/n stopped mid-step, her brow arching in curiosity. “You’re always a diva Lou” she asked, fighting a smirk.

He turned his head slowly, deliberately, to fix her with a look so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel. “Excuse me?” His voice dripped with disbelief, thick with the indignation only he could muster. “I am not always a diva. I am a man of refinement. There’s a difference.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh as she crossed the room, placing the bowl gently on the coffee table, before disappearing back into the kitchen. “Oh, of course, my bad. How could I forget?” She called out, voice slightly echoey, “Man of refinement. Got it.”

Louis sniffed, sitting up just enough to prop himself on one elbow, his other hand clutching the blanket to his chest, calling out to her. “Don’t patronize me, Y/n. I’m fragile right now. My fragility demands respect.”

Y/n came back into the room, stifling a laugh as she held out a cup of tea. “Whatever you say Lou. Now Drink this before it gets cold.”

He eyed the mug suspiciously, then looked back at her with the kind of skepticism that was usually reserved for used car salesmen. “What’s in it?”

“Tea. Honey. Lemon. Love and affection,” she said with a smile.

He squinted his eyes at her. “Hm, I don’t know if I trust the ‘love and affection’ part. Sounds toxic.”

“Lou.”

“Fine,” he said, sighing as though she were asking too much of him. He took the mug with a dramatic flair, pinky out, and sipped. “Too much lemon.”

“No, it’s perfect,” she said, stealing the mug back and setting it down.

“Well I disagree,” he muttered, sinking back into the couch.

Y/n rolled her eyes, pointing to the bowl on the table in front of him. “Well eat this before your attitude gives me a headache too.”

He stared at the soup as if it had personally offended him. “I can’t. I’m weak. My arms feel like noodles. Limp noodles, Y/n.”

She bit back a laugh, picking up the bowl. “I can feed it to you, if that’s what you’re angling for.”

Louis' eyes widened, and he leaned back, clutching the blankets back to his chest. “Oh, no. We’re not at that stage of desperation just yet.”

Y/n smirked. “But you just said—”

“Forget what I said. I’m a mystery. An enigma. Stop trying to solve me.”

She set the soup down with a sigh, leaning back against the couch. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you,” he said, turning to her with a weak but pointed look, “are underappreciative of my brilliance.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Your brilliance?”

“Yes, my brilliance. It’s hard being this charming all while sick. You should be thanking me for gracing you with my presence in such a vulnerable state.”

Y/n leaned in, brushing a hand against his messy hair. “You’re right. I don’t deserve you.”

Louis closed his eyes and sighed, tilting his head into her touch. “Finally. Some recognition around here.”

Y/n let out a sigh before pointing to the bowl of soup. “Eat.” 

Louis let out an exaggerated groan, leaning forward as if the mere act of moving was an unbearable burden. With a dramatic groan, he grabbed the bowl of soup, sighing as though the effort had physically wounded him, and began to stir the contents lazily with his spoon. “What even is this supposed to be? It looks like you’re trying to finish me off for good.”

Y/n crossed her arms, staring him down. “You’re lucky I didn’t just bring you a can of chicken noodle and call it a day.”

He gasped, clutching his chest like she’d just stabbed him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I might,” she teased, nudging his legs with hers.

“You’re a monster,” he muttered, eyeing the soup with a disgusted look. “Is this even seasoned properly?”

“You’re welcome to get up and cook your own soup,” she shot back.

“Babe, please.” He held up a hand as if to stop her. “I’m ailing. On the brink of death. You wouldn’t ask a dying man to fend for himself, now would you?”

She reached for the spoon, scooping some broth and holding it out. “Eat. Or I swear I’ll let you wither away just to get some peace and quiet.”

Louis pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. “Well that’s just rude.”

Y/n groaned, shoving the spoon closer to his mouth. “Just. Eat. The. Damn. Soup.”

He sighed dramatically, accepting the spoon but glaring at her as he swallowed the bite. Immediately, his face twisted in over-the-top disgust. “Too much pepper,” he declared, shaking his head like a disappointed food critic.

“I didn't even put pepper in this. You're insufferable,” she muttered, putting the spoon back in the bowl.

“And yet,” he said, placing the bowl back on the table before reclining further into the pillows, “you love me.”

“Do I, though?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Louis' mouth dropped open in mock offense. “Y/n, if you don’t love me at my worst then you don’t deserve me in my prime.”

“Oh, please,” she said, laughing despite herself. “You don’t have a ‘prime.’”

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a sly smile. “You didn’t seem to think that last week when I wore that tight black shirt that you like.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away. “Don’t start.”

“Too late,” he said, his grin widening. “I saw that blush. You’re so predictable.”

Y/n shoved a pillow at his face. “Shut up and eat your soup.”

Louis batted the pillow away, laughing weakly before groaning and clutching his head. “Ugh. You’re giving me a migraine now.”

“Love, you’ve had a headache all day,” she pointed out, her voice softening.

“Well, now it’s even worse,” he said, throwing her a pitiful look. “Congratulations babe. You broke me.”

She sighed, reaching out to brush his messy hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to. Do you want another cold compress?”

Louis blinked up at her, his expression suspicious. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch, Lou. I just want you to feel better.”

He squinted at her, leaning back slightly. “Hm. This feels like a trap.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, standing up to fetch the compress.

“I saw that,” Louis called after her.

“Saw what?”

“The eye roll. So disrespectful.” He said, with a shake of his head, before flipping her off, although she couldn't see it.

When she returned with the cold compress, she carefully placed it on his forehead. Louis winced dramatically, flinging his arm over his eyes. “It's too cold!”

“It’s supposed to be cold.”

“Well, it’s doing its job a little too well.” He gave her another sharp glare.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re such a diva.”

He turned his head just enough to fix her with a glare. “If by ‘diva,’ you mean ‘icon,’ then yes, I am.” He said, with a proud smile.

Y/n leaned in close, her lips quirking into a smile. “You know, for someone who claims to be on the brink of death, you’re awfully energetic.”

Louis huffed, flipping her off again, but holding it up a little longer than before. “For someone who loves me, you’re awfully annoying.”

She rolled her eyes again, this time deliberately. “Lucky for you, I don’t mind annoying you.”

“Lucky for you, I’m too sick to retaliate properly,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

“Go to sleep, Lou,” Y/n said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

His eyes popped open, and he smirked. “Fine. But if I wake up cranky, just know that it will be all your fault.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “Go to sleep, you diva.”

He stuck his tongue out at her—a small, childish act of rebellion that made her roll her eyes so hard she was sure they’d get stuck. But instead of snapping back, Y/n just sat beside him, arms crossed, daring him to make the next move.

“Don’t sit there and judge me,” Louis said, his voice muffled as he sank deeper into the nest of blankets. “I’m not judging,” she said, though her grin betrayed her.

“Oh, you absolutely are,” he replied, popping his head out to glare at her. “I can feel it in the air. The judgment. The disgust.” 

Y/n crossed her arms, her grin widening. “You’re so dramatic.”

Louis' eyes narrowed. He sniffled loudly for effect, making it sound like the universe itself had wronged him. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to be gracious right now? Because my ‘unsupportive girlfriend’”—he made air quotes with exaggerated disdain—“is out here bullying me in my time of need.”

She laughed, sitting down on the coffee table across from him. “I’m not bullying you, Babe. I’m literally just trying to take care of you.”

He sighed deeply, like a tragic hero staring down the cruelty of fate. “Taking care of me? By mocking me? By rolling your eyes like I’m some kind of burden?” His hand shot up again from the depths of his blanket cocoon, middle finger raised.

Y/n swatted his hand lightly, still laughing. “I’m just trying to help you, you big baby.”

“Baby?” he echoed, gasping like she’d just slapped him. “Wow. I pour my heart out, and I get called a baby. Do you even love me anymore?”

Y/n leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I'm not so sure right now.”

Louis threw the blankets off his chest, sitting up abruptly with a gasp of betrayal. “You did not just say that.” His expression shifted into a look so exaggeratedly wounded that Y/n had to bite her lip to keep from laughing again. “I have been out here, dying, and you—you—have the audacity to question your love for me?”

He flipped her off again, both hands this time, his fingers wobbling slightly like even they were tired of his nonsense.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said through giggles, reaching to tuck him back into the blankets.

“And you’re mean,” he shot back, letting her fuss over him but glaring daggers the entire time. “But fine. If you’re going to be cruel, I’ll just... suffer in silence.”

“Finally,” Y/n muttered, smirking as she adjusted the blanket over his chest.

“Oh, don’t finally me!” Louis barked, trying to sit up again, but she pushed him back down with ease. “This is abuse. This is oppression. I will not be silenced.”

She kissed the top of his head to silence him, and for a moment, he went still. Then, his lips curled into the faintest pout. “You think that’s going to fix it?”

“Fix what?” she asked, sitting back down.

“My broken heart,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “But sure, just kiss me like that solves everything. So lazy you are.”

Y/n groaned, leaning back. “Louis, if I wasn’t madly in love with you, I’d have left you hours ago.”

“And yet, here you are,” he quipped, smirking through his raspy voice. “I must be pretty incredible for you to put up with all this.”

“‘Incredible’ isn’t the word I’d use,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh, I know what word you’d use.” He pulled the blanket up to his chin, narrowing his eyes. “Diva.”

Y/n grinned. “If the crown fits...”

Louis raised a hand, flipped her off again—this time with such deliberate slowness it felt almost ceremonial.

“You know what? I’m done. You’re done. We’re all done. I can’t even look at you right now,” he muttered, pulling the blanket over his head.  “You’ve hurt me too much.”

Y/n shook her head, pulling the blanket back slightly to peek at him. “So dramatic.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he replied, although it came out slightly muffled. “Which, frankly, says a lot about you.”

She sat there, watching as he huffed and wiggled to get comfortable, his grumbles growing quieter with each passing moment.

“Goodnight, my little diva,” she said softly, taking the blanket fully off of his head before leaning down to kiss his temple one last time, before brushing a hand against his messy hair.

“Yeah whatever. Goodnight,” he mumbled back.

She laughed softly, her fingers lingering for a moment before pulling back. “You’re lucky I love you.”

His eyes opened, just a sliver, and his lips curved into a small, tired smile. “I know,” he said, before pulling the blanket back over his head, finally being quiet.

[maymayandthehog]

OKAY. I GUESS THAT'S FAIR ENOUGH. LOOK, LET ME MAKE ONE THING CLEAR UP FRONT, OK? I'M NOT TRYING TO DO SOME KIND OF BACK DOOR STUNT HERE, LOOKING TO WEASEL INTO A PLACE WHERE I ALREADY KNOW I'M NOT WANTED SO I CAN GET "ACCESS" OR WHATEVER. I'M SO OVER THE WHOLE MESS. I DON'T HAVE "REVENGE ON MY MIND" OR A "COMEBACK TOUR" OR WHATEVER. HAD TIME, BEEN FORCED THROUGH INVOLUNTARY PSYCHIATRIC CONFINEMENT, HAD MY WHOLE HISTORY DOXXED ALL OVER THE INTERNET, ALL THAT JAZZ.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY AND YOU DON'T HAVE TO CIRCLE THE WAGONS. I WANTED TO MOVE ON BUT ONE OF THE BIZILLION UNIVERSAL VARIANTS OF YOUR GRUNKLE JUST CRASHED INTO MY LIVING ROOM, AND HE WANTS TO MAKE A DEAL WITH ME, AND I'M... NEVER MIND. THIS ISN'T YOUR PROBLEM.

(@annoyangle)

Candy, cut the stream.

"What? But we haven't even gotten to the Caps for Capybaras segment yet—"

I said cut the stream!

---

She pushed back in her seat, wheels scraping against the floor as they fought desperately against the decade's worth of grime, rust, and sugar that had built up in their axles.

Candy and Grenda exchanged a look. The emails were blind printed in advance in order to provide a truly authentic host reaction. There had always been some level of risk involved in this, and over the years they had received a few oddball questions (typically signed with a cursive double G), but this was the first time they had to kill a stream mid-response.

One of the capybaras chittered to itself. Grenda set a large box of hats down on the table next to it, and gave it a stern shhhh.

"NOT NOW. THE HOST IS THINKING."

Mabel stood, the abrupt movement nearly sending her chair toppling backwards. Clapping her hands together, she turned to face the two, and gave both a slightly strained smile.

"Girls! It's been a long day, right? We've all worked hard. Grenda, you carried all SIX of those capybaras up here on your shoulders! I know my back would be screaming!"

"MY MUSCLES ARE LIKE IRON, BUT EVEN IRON CAN BREAK," Grenda wearily agreed.

"It's important to remember to bend with your knees," said Candy. She looked a bit uncertain. "Perhaps we could take a short rest..."

"Great!" Mabel began folding the print out, and slid the paper into her back pocket. "We have the capybaras until tomorrow morning. Let's meet early and we can hammer out the rest of today's shoot. It wont be a live audience, but, I mean, given our track record, I think our fans will find it in their hearts to forgive us—"

"Oh, ah, of course, but, Mabel—"

"I mean, twelve years and not a single missed episode. I'd say that's pretty good!"

"Yes, it's excellent, but Mabel—"

"And it's not like we didn't save the world or anything! If nothing else, they gotta cut us some slack for that, right?!"

"Mabel!"

"Errr.... yes, Candy?"

"It's okay. We don't have to finish the episode. We are just... worried! The question—it seemed to upset you."

"Oh," Mabel faltered a bit. Her hand hovered briefly over the small, paper rectangle, then dropped at her side. "No, I'm okay. Just... a lot to think about, you know? School's starting Tuesday and I still have soooo much to do... Just your typical pre-class jitters. Every teacher gets 'em!”

“You have never gotten the jitters.”

Mabel circled out from behind the table, so that she could throw an arm around Candy's shoulders and begin steering her towards the door. “Haha, what can I say? You’re looking at a more mature Mabel this year! With age comes anxiety! I guess it’s bad enough that one weird email was enough to throw me off my game. But I'll be better tomorrow, promise."

"Hmm,” hmmed Candy.

"I'll let you take the capybaras home,” Mabel offered, weakly.

"YEAHHH! CAPYBARAS!" Grenda flung her fists into the air. "THEY'RE LIKE BUNNIES THAT YOU CAN RIDE!" She reached down and grabbed one of the rodents by its mid-section, then hauled it up over her shoulders. It squeaked.

Candy turned towards her, alarmed. "Your knees, Grenda! Use your knees!"

As Grenda barreled out of the room and down the creaking stairwell, Candy gave Mabel a final look. "Well, so long as you're sure... I suppose we can finish Sunday." She looked down at the five remaining animals. "And they are very cute."

"They're soooooo cute.”

"Okay. Sunday. What time?"

"Uhhh... I'll text you?"

"Right." For a moment, the ghost of a frown weighed down Candy's features, but dissipated as she seemed to reach a decision. Carefully, she began to usher the rest of the capybaras into the hall. "Okay, capybaras. This way."

"Bye, Candyyyy!"

"Goodbye, Mabel. Let us know if you need to talk. Our ears are always open."

"Yeah..." Mabel waved, still smiling as the lock clicked into place. "I know."

Standing in the now empty attic, Mabel sighed and glanced towards the streaming set up. The light were still on, the boom mic still stood by her seat. She navigated back to the table, bent, and unplugged the powerstrip. The lights shut off.

"Okay, Bill," she said, straightening. "I know you're here. Let's chat."

[loonylupin2]

I Wrote a McLennon fanfic :)

Paul and John are in bed together

sleeping top and tail as usual (even though they both desperately don’t want to) but John speaks up

I Hope you all enjoy :D

❤️✨🍀❤️✨🍀❤️✨🍀❤️✨🍀❤️✨🍀❤️

❤️✨🍀❤️✨🍀❤️✨🍀❤️✨🍀❤️✨🍀❤️

I lay in my bed, at the foot of it. Sighing deeply at the cramped quarters. We were on a trip, me and John were to somewhere to who knows what. All I know is that we were on a trip, and I was with him. That’s all that mattered to me really. No point in going on a trip if the destination isn’t there to share- see the joy on others' faces as well as yours- the awe and inspiration sparkling in their eyes.

Either way- because it was a trip. John and I- as we usually did would share a bed, it was cheaper that way. We couldn’t allow ourselves to sleep on the floor- like dogs. Our pride didn’t allow such activities. So we laid underneath our squeezed sheets- top and tailed. It was fine and all. We’d talk and laugh- sometimes John’s feet would kick me in the face though, or my toes fall into his snoring mouth. But it wasn’t too bad. It was sweet enough.

Tonight though we were beat. Beaten down to our cobs. We’d ridden our bikes for what seemed like decades- our legs, limp noodles, wettened from our own sweat. We were silent. My head was facing the window, John and I liked to keep the blinds open.

The moon was out. Blue like the song. It was large and bright, its milky glow oozing over us like warm syrup. I longed for more- yet I closed my eyes.

“Paulie?” A familiar voice called. My eyes slowly opened. “Yeh John?” My eyes lingered in the corner of the room- I could tell he was facing away from me- I wanted to turn and look at his face as was preferred- but my waist ached.

“Y’know, you don’t always have to sleep at my feet y'know.” I could hear John’s smile paint his voice as they went into my ear. It blessed me but I shook my head regardless. “Yeah- I know, just…“ I could hear him shift at my words, turning to me in interest. I grew exasperated. “Oh dammit John you know why!” I shook my head again and closed my eyes.

I felt his whole body turn and felt his gaze look down. Attempting to reach my face. “Enlighten me, Mr. McCartney.” He added.

I opened my eyes. I felt a tug at my heart, to return his look, my eyes like stone stayed perched to their post- the blue crystal in the night sky

“It’s just-“ I began. “I don’t want people to be gettin’ the wrong idea of us- yknow- that we’re-,”

“A bunch a queers.” he finished. I paused and sighed my eyes darting to the corner again. I gulped dryly, biting my lip. “Yeh…”

I felt John sit up slightly. “Well who’s gonna see us like this I mean,” he said bluntly and closed my eyes and sucked in my breath. “It’s just y'know-,” I knew John was gonna interrupt me and he obliged. “I’m just saying it’s mighty uncomfortable- I can barely damn move- I don’t like ye facing me toes or whatever- it’s not pleasant- it’s just annoying! I’d rather sleep on the bloody floor if anything!” He huffed and laid back down. I could tell he was getting agitated- John was like this when tired. Especially since we left some of our belongings back home. Including his box of chocolates, he just got for me and him. I promised to buy him another- but he wasn’t having it- he wanted to be the gifter, not the giftie

“So what do you suggest we do then?” I said bluntly, trying to help him calm down. He answered me quickly and harshly. “ I don’t fucking know Paul? Maybe sleep like normal damn people- ever thought about that?” I was quiet for a good moment. I felt my blood pressure rise as my brain went as foggy as a bog. The aggression in his voice only solidified his borderline insane proposition. I had to laugh “John!” I chuckled, shaking my head. “We couldn’t! you know we-” I finally sat up, looking to his face and saw he was entirely serious. A frown lay on his thin red mouth and his eyebrows furrowed in a tired unimpressed way- I could barely even pay attention to his hair, which was a mess. My smile slowly disappeared. I saw how almost “through with it all” he seemed- his eyes didn’t even sparkle in the moonlight…

“Well-“ I said absentmindedly “I could maybe,” I never finished my sentence. John leaned forward like a starling tired goon. He wrapped his arms around my neck and put his face into my shoulder pulling me down next to where he lay. He continued to hold me. I stayed silent and still. I was shocked beyond belief. My brain went to frozen mush and my heart was just as cold. I didn’t know what to think or do or say. My tongue was like a large block in my throat. I felt trapped in my own body.

John was the first to talk. He looked into my eyes with a smile, a bushy eyebrow raised. “Are ye uncomfortable, Macca?” It took me a while to dissect his words in my skull but I replied with a shrug- it seemed that freed my tongue from its cage. “N-No-“ I stuttered. “I just…I feel I’m taking your room…” John's grin spread and a soft chuckle left his mouth. “Yer not- y’know. I don’t mind this really- more comfortable than before…” We were silent- just looking at each other faces- the wind was still and cold “Besides-“ John continued “I prefer looking at your eyes than your toes…don’t ye agree.”

I couldn't help but smile at this. I nodded “Yeah…yeah no I get you…” I still felt somewhat guilty and or bad- for intruding on John’s space- whether he wanted such activity or not. I admit now- in retrospect. I wanted to spoon with him as much as he did. But I, at the time, shoved those thoughts down into the pits of my stomach. I refused to partake in such a disease- or one resembling such- what would mother in heaven think?

I scooted to the very edge of the bed- breaking our warm embrace- an embrace I missed dearly. John looked at me disappointed and turned to the white splotched ceiling. “You don’t need to do that…” my eyes drifted down. “Y-yeh but-“ he interrupted me- with a soft pleading cry that shook my soul into dust “Paul…” he said it calmly- it shouldn’t have affected me as it did. He was just saying my name after all but the way he said it, the tremor of his tongue- it wasn’t a name anymore with him.

But a dream- a spirit- a want.

My eyes looked up shyly and wide at his, he returned my gaze and we stayed as such for a while. I awkwardly bit my lip and sighed scooting forward to him with my hips. He smiled. I wished too- but the words of my father screamed through my head- the stare of my mother…I continued nonetheless- for now the warm and comforting aura of John’s was enough to overpower both.

His fingers stroked my jaw softly, like guitar strings.. I gasped and shivered, closing my eyes tight. A scream of want- of need, lay in my throat wishing to come out. He stopped and put his arms behind his head. He smiled a mocking smile- and I opened my eyes. I hope my thoughts weren’t reflected in them- my cursed thoughts…my cursed wants…

“You’re jumpy today ain’t ya Paulie Mac-“ he teased me- in an effort to lower the tensions. I looked into his eyes- the light of the moon reflected in them- they resembled flowing sap seeping from an old oak…my insides became sparklers. “W-when am I not.” I shivered in my attempt to laugh. There was silence- but I felt him searching my face- every round corner- bump, hair and lash. I bit my lip in spite of myself, my mouth like a river…my mother in heaven must be shaking her head in woe…

But John wasn't ... .his warm glow tried to push away my shame- he looked to the window…the blue moon “It’s hanging’ high tonight ain’t it…” I turned away from him to look at the moon. I sat up… “yeh- it’s real nice…”

I heard the covers ruffle as John sat up with me…he wrapped his arms around my neck ..his hands holding his smooth arms…they shined like porcelain in the moonlight…he brought his weight down on me…as he laid down on the bed once more as did me in his arms…I was his little spoon.

He moved closer to me- I could feel his nose in my hair…I didn’t know what to do…my mouth was open as I breathed, my hands going to his arms and rubbing them slowly up and down, as I shivered I squeezed. “Paul…” he whispered into my neck… “Yes…John.” I croaked. “It’s an Elvis song ain’t it?” He said, I could hear his smile. “What is?” I asked in intrigue. “Blue moon…” he chided. I looked down and then back at the window…the moon's spotlight shining down on the two of us embraced like dolls in our own personal dollhouse. That’s when I knew it was good…why would god shine his own personal spotlight unto us if it weren’t…

“Yeh…” I smiled with a chuckle…nodding my head…I felt myself nuzzle my back into John’s stomach. “It is…it’s one of my favourites actually…” I felt his breath on my neck “You always loved the fruity ballads didn’t you?” He teased me. I laughed and shook my head- my first smirk of the night appeared on my warm face, my heart tingling like wind chimes. I said- in spite of myself “Sod off, Lennon…you’re no better than I.”

[edgarsravencawcawbtches]

Y'all I wrote a story.

It's called 'Lost and Loved'

The golden honey of the afternoon tumbles through the claw torn curtains and trails across the room. I lay, limbs outstretched, sucking up the warmth. Anagi sits cross legged and cross faced in front of her laptop. Tear streaked tissues are crumpled on her desk. I do not understand her stress, but I can feel it. It coils around the room like smoke, thick and heavy, choking. 

We stay like this until the world chills and hunger begins to gnaw at me. I stretch as if I have been sleeping for hours, which I have, and knead the carpet.

With the carpet thoroughly softened I make my way to Anagi and rub against her legs. She pauses her work to shower me in compliments, “Your motor is on Priya. You’re as loud as a sports car aren’t you?” Then she voices what I’ve been waiting for, “I think it's time for your dinner.” Satisfaction is stark on my face. 

Anagi leaves and I follow her to my bowl, all the while telling her to hurry.

“Meow to you too, miss magoo.” She replies, understanding what my cries mean.

Half a scoop of dry food, quarter can of wet food. I gobble it as fast as I can, I want to return to her company. 

Do not forget to feed yourself Anagi.

She does not get herself any food. Instead she strides right back to the slumping chair, blinding screen, and tissue filled table. Why does she ignore her needs? Does her tummy not tell her to eat? What is more important than satisfying her body? I do not know. I do not understand.

The tip-tap pitter-pat of the keys mark the words that form on the screen only to disappear, then form again. A washing machine of words repeating itself, never clean enough, never enough.

Anagi, see how I care for you?

I snuggle close and rub my cheek on her hand. 

"I wish you could proofread this Priya,” her head sinks into her hands. “I feel like you'd be a little genius, wouldn't you? Everybody would love you." she said the words like a sigh, listless and broken.

I am already loved.

Waves radiate from Anagi like heat above a flame, distorting her reality. The fire burning inside her scares me, makes me restless. In a fire, you must run.

I paw at her hand, bat it away from the keys. In return she scratches my neck. I leap from her lap. Onto her keyboard. Blocking her access.

“Priya, stop it! I’m trying to work!” She picks me up and dumps me on the floor.

I climb the back of her chair. Claws gripping like velcro. I attack the hair across her shoulders. 

Turn around Anagi.

She does, but only long enough to knock me off.

Rude.

I change my strategy. I race across the room and out the door. I skid wildly as I turn the corner. My back end swings into the wall. It struggles to change direction. I bolt to the box of toys in the playroom. Manically I dig to find the perfect toy. I find it buried at the bottom. The stick that dangles a mouse from a string. 

Yes!

I bite it and scramble back to Anagi as fast as I can. The stick drags beneath me. I run with my legs slightly to the side so I do not step on it. It produces an odd little waddle which is not nearly as fast as I want. 

Holding the mouse in my maw. I meow at Anagi and reach up at her seat.

Anagi, play with me!

“Priya I can’t right now. I’m trying to do work.” Her eyes never lift from the screen.

I need her to look away from her work. Then she will leave it be. I run and jump at the wall. I tear a poster down. It crumples on the floor. Surely she will look. 

She does not.

I scuttle along her bed. Pounce on her pillow. I tumble off the side. I fall on the floor in a heap. Now, she will look.

Yet she does not.

I gallop towards her. I throw myself on her desk. I meow my most desperate cry!

Anagi sighs.

She reaches out and stokes me, for her consolation and my comfort. 

“I still can’t play with you though. I need to get this done.” her eyes, a jumbled mix of sulk and serious, lift from the screen to meet mine.

She returns her focus to her work. One hand caressing my fur, the other skimming over the keys.

NO. Play with me Anagi!

I bite her hand. Gently, of course. Just enough to make her stare.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”. Her voice breaks, echoing her resolve. “But I still love you.”

She picks up the stick and dangles the mouse in front of my face. I chase it across the floor. Anagi giggles.

The flame that had been burning inside her sizzled and shrank then went out.

A puff of smoke rose and dissipated. 

I love you Anagi.

[seijorhi]

SPIDER LILY

FINAL GOODBYE

“I’ll pray to meet you again in another life. For now, I have to settle with a farewell, though.”

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: blood, murder, character death, reader death, mentions of gore, yandere, serial killer oikawa <33

“Detective?”

His voice echoes through the stacks, rougher than you’re used to, laboured – but no less mocking.

You ignore it, focusing instead on the weight of the gun in your hand, on calming your heart, steadying your breath. Your torch is gone – dropped somewhere near the doors, you think – the power in the warehouse cut before you’d even arrived. Stumbling through the darkness, you only have the dim light of your cracked phone to see.

To silently follow the trail of blood, the splatters so dark against the concrete floor they almost appear black.

You’d fired two shots. One hit him in the shoulder, a nice, clean through and through. It’d slow him down a little, hurt like a bitch, but it wouldn’t cause the amount of blood you’re seeing. A gut shot, maybe – it was too dark for you to be certain. And yet with every step you creep forward, there’s more. Not just on the floor, but smeared over the boxes that line the narrow stacks. As if he’d stumbled and caught himself on the shelves, and then kept on limping forwards.

How much blood could he lose before it killed him? Surely less than this, you think. They’d taught you the exact percentage back in school, but your mind only draws a blank as you inch forward. You can smell it too, that sharp, overpowering metallic tang that lingers unpleasantly on your tongue.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Detective?” he pants, apparently unbothered by your silence.

Closer now.

Swallowing tightly, your finger, poised just above the trigger, trembles – and yet, as you dart round the corner to the next stack, you find nothing but more blood. Just like the others before.

“The ancient Greeks believed that once upon a time, humans were born with four arms, four legs and two heads, and that Zeus, fearing the power of these perfect creatures, split them in two.” A wet, shuddery breath, followed by a laugh. “They’d be doomed to wander the earth for the rest of their lives, trying to find the other half of their soul.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you don’t dare voice the question sitting like a lump in your throat. He’s delusional, you know this, but–

“You felt it that night, didn’t you?” Oikawa pauses for a moment, as if he truly expects you to answer him. That – or the pain and the blood loss was finally getting to him. “As if you’d been walking around blind your whole life, and suddenly there was light, and colour… beauty. You and I were made for each other. Two halves of the same soul, bound in this life and whatever comes next.”

Truthfully, you had felt something that night you’d let him pull you from the bar, his hand slipped in the back pocket of your jeans, his lips hungrily kissing at your jaw. Not whatever cosmic binding he seemed convinced of, but a gnawing sense of unease that you’d tried desperately to ignore, even then.

It was the expression on his face, the way he’d stared as he fucked you, kissed you until you couldn’t breathe – pupils blown wide, that manic, feverish infatuation that felt wholly out of place for a drunken one night stand.

And now you can’t think of that night without seeing those poor girls, carved up and left in pieces, the messages he’d left for you. Nausea roils in your stomach.

“You’re bleeding out, you know,” you say, glad that your voice at least is somewhat steady. One foot in front of the other – he can’t be far now. “Let me help you–”

“It’s a little late for that,” he calls out. “You have a good aim, Detective.”

Heart lodged in your throat, gun and phone braced in your hands, you step around the corner–

Another empty stack.

Fuck.

“I’ve never considered myself to be much of a religious man,” Oikawa rasps, his voice near enough to unnerve, but in the darkness and the looming labyrinth of boxes you can’t tell where it’s coming from. “But I’ll pray to find you in the next life. For now though…”

And something like dread pools in your gut as you force your legs to move, to keep inching towards the sound of those wet, gasping breaths.

“I suppose I’ll have to settle for goodbye, darling.”

You feel the warmth at your back a split second before his knife rips at your throat.

He’s there to catch you – the two of you collapsing back against the shelves as blood sprays with every frantic, dying beat of your heart. And as you gasp, choking and desperate, clawing weakly at his arms, Oikawa’s lips once more find your temple.

“I’ll see you soon,” he breathes.

Our Bloody Valentine Masterlist

[frogtanii]

[buckle up; this one is a long one (1.6k words)]

things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

she was supposed to show up, apologize “sincerely,” and the boys, her boys, were supposed to welcome her with open arms and swiftly discard of you.

instead, she was sitting in the back of a cramped police car with two pigs, one of which had a horrible b.o. problem and an affinity for sauerkraut.

it was so frustrating.

and, of course, it was all your fault.

you’d been blocking her from true happiness ever since the beginning when you’d first met in middle school. it was crazy because you’d actually seemed nice; kind, understanding, and you didn’t judge her for what her father did to her mother or for how she acted out because of that.

sure, you were a little weird and sometimes you could be downright rude to other kids in your class but you cared for her in a way that no one else had before.

(un)fortunately, you didn’t come alone — you were a packaged deal. your childhood friend, daishou, came into her life right along with you. she didn’t mind at first; daishou was fun when he wanted to be but he was mostly full of snarky comments and sarcastic quips.

the three of you spent all your time with each other; from playing at the playground to helping her begin her makeup youtube channel in 8th grade.

you all got along pretty well up until you got to highschool. once there, you threw yourself into your studies, sort of retracting yourself from her and daishou.

how selfish.

she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by you—you knew how bad she was at making friends and you didn’t even care, leaving her all alone to fend for herself.

well, not all by herself.

daishou was a constant. no matter where she was, or how alone she was feeling, he was there to provide entertainment at the most, and his presence at the least.

it wasn’t always the healthiest, most functional friendship, she could admit that. there were weeks that daishou would choose to ignore her for no apparent rhyme or reason, citing his explanation as he just didn’t feel like it.

obviously it sucked but he was her only friend, ever since you so cruelly abandoned them. i mean, you still ate lunch with them every day and invited them over to study and hang out, but it was not the same.

with you so absent, she grew closer and closer to daishou to the point she was spending almost every waking moment with him. and, as the story so goes, she fell for him, head over heels.

she knew it was a bad idea, if their friendship was anything to go off of but she didn’t care. she was desperate for love and physical affection and he seemed willing to at least give her the latter.

after she decided to confess, nerves all the way in her throat and a box of chocolates behind her back, daishou took her virginity in the back of his ford fusion, hard, fast and nothing like she’d imagined.

the next day, she’d cornered you in the library (where you always seemed to be) to tell you the good news. your face was unusually blank as she detailed the best night of her life to you, your response being less than stellar when she was done. “please be careful,” you had said.

what did that even mean? you clearly wanted to keep daishou safe from her which was ridiculous because weren’t you supposed to be her friend too? she’d stormed out of the library after that, determined to demand a kiss from daishou to make her feel better.

that day was one of the last that she’d see you for a while. you got caught up with clubs and schoolwork (and apparently therapy for god knows what) while she got caught up with daishou.

things with him weren’t... great. they never really were but things were getting even worse. his random bouts of silence got longer and though it was only freshman year and they’d been dating for less than 5 months, he’d meet with her after school with a hickey plastered on his collarbone that she knew she didn’t put there (she sucked even harder over the spot to claim it as her own).

as she said, things weren’t great but they weren’t horrible either. they remained that way all the way up until sophomore year.

you and her had drifted even further, hardly speaking to one another unless it was for a project or to vaguely greet one another in the halls. it was okay though. you had all your other friends and she... well she had daishou.

speaking of, her “boyfriend” had been more distant than usual. she wasn’t an idiot and she knew he’d been seeing other girls on the side, but she believed she would be the one he’d end up with, the one he’d marry.

how foolish she had been.

it was prom night and she felt beautiful. her beauty channel had finally begun picking up traction (she’d just hit 13k subscribers the night before!!) so she filmed a prom night makeup tutorial, making sure that every square inch of her face was perfect. donning a silky blue floor length dress, she felt like a princess and she certainly looked the part.

she showed up to daishou’s house about 30 minutes before the event, ringing his doorbell with an elated grin painted all over her face. he had mentioned in passing that his parents and older sister would be out for the weekend, leaving the house for themselves. that meant sex and sex meant being wanted.

after the third ring of the bell, she started to get nervous. maybe he wasn’t ready yet? maybe he needed help with his tie? just when she was about to wring the bell again, the door swung open to reveal daishou... not in his suit.

“oh, it’s you,” he’d grumbled. “‘m not goin’ to prom.” she felt her breath catch in her throat. she’d protested and begged for an explanation but he wouldn’t give one to her. eventually, she’d followed him into his house, furious because how could he do this to her? on her night?

it didn’t take very long for him to get fed up, his snake-like eyes honing in on her, filled with venom. “‘m not goin’ because i don’t like you anymore. you still look pretty though.”

just like that, with just a few words, he’d shattered her heart. she was frozen in place, completely disconnected from daishou, her love, as he not-so-gently pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.

she felt tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, her legs were carrying her to a place she hadn’t been in months.

banging frantically on the door, she cried out, begging for someone, anyone to hear her. the door opened quickly and there you stood. you’d clearly been studying but as you took in her frazzled appearance, it seemed as though your heart broke.

you ushered her inside, sat her own the couch, and began to make her a cup of tea, your parents having been out for the night as well. once the kettle went off, you quickly prepped her drink and gave it to her, the words flowing out of her like liquid once she had taken a sip.

she didn’t know why she was even there but despite the animosity between the two of you, you seemed like you truly... cared. (neither of you mentioned the tears that stained your favorite t shirt or the quiet apologies you muttered into her hair).

that night quickly went and passed and by the next day, she was feeling rejuvenated and more like herself. however, that feeling quickly dissipated when she caught you in the hallway between classes speaking with daishou behind the stairwell in hushed tones.

within the span of a few hours, her heart had been broken twice and she was sure she’d never felt such heartache before.

she turned on her heel and darted away, avoiding your every attempt to talk to her for weeks and weeks until you just... stopped trying. after you’d cut off conversation, yet again, the sadness quickly festered and morphed into anger.

that anger only grew when she watched you graduate at the top of your class in your senior year, your smile blinding as you accepted your diploma. it only grew when she saw that you had made it into the university of your choice on your instagram story, her own rejection letter torn up in the bottom of her wastebin. it only grew when she saw you’d made your own youtube channel, her own going untouched and neglected (her last video had been a half-assed “get ready with me” that had more dislikes than likes due to her horrible makeup and even worse attitude).

soon enough, the rage had intensified until it had taken over her whole being. she was just so angry at all that you’d done to her, all the ways you’d ruined her life that she couldn’t keep herself from plotting your demise.

when she got the email from the hyper house management team that invited her into the house and offered the option that she could pick someone she wanted to move in as well, her anger turned into excitement.

this was her chance. this was her moment to turn your life into a living hell, to make it at least a fraction of what she went through by your hands.

she was going to make you pay and god, was it going to feel great.

the metal of the handcuffs chafed her wrists as she adjusted herself against the cool leather of the cruiser, the discomfort removing her from her reverie.

yeah, right. it seemed as though she was the only one “paying” right about now.

she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

things definitely weren’t meant to turn out like this. not at all.

℗ poker face

not like this

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OMFG THE BACKSTORY REVEALED I AM SO OVER IT >:(( this took me forever to write and i still wasn’t able to include everything i wanted to so hop over to my asks if you need any clarification!! oh oh && just a reminder, this playlist is from meiko’s perspective so chances are, things didn’t exactly go just like this wink wonk KAJS ANYWAYS DONT FORGET TO FEED ME ILY <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[natashxromanovf]

Blinded By Love Hate

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2599

WARNINGS: brief mention of the reader being on Cap’s side but nothing important for the story, a lot of dialogue, mentions of guns, mentions of a gunshot wound

REQUESTED: no, but part of @heloisedaphnebrightmore writing challenge, enemies to lovers

SUMMARY: A mission gone wrong leads to a confession none of you thought would ever be spoken.

A/N: vxhrqcbdsjth my first enemies to lovers, I hope y’all like it! I love this trope yet I never actually wrote it before, but there’s a first for everything, right? also, i'd like to thank @moreidsdaughter for beta-ing this <33

gif credits to @buckypascal

You and Bucky don’t necessarily hate each other; you just strongly dislike one another. It was always like this, ever since the Airport fight, and even though you were on Cap's team, just his mere presence seemed to annoy you. It’s not clear why, but there’s something about him - at least that’s what you tell yourself. Truth be told, you developed a crush on the man; you guessed it’s just easier to pretend you hate him than confess your feelings.

“Are you kidding me?” you say as you sit down, receiving the news mere seconds ago. You don’t know whose idea it was to send Bucky and you together on a mission but they sure aren’t very smart. And the bad news doesn’t end here; the mission is pretending you’re a married couple while gathering important intel, trying to figure out which of the soon-to-be neighbours is leading a dangerous organisation.

“Steve, we’re gonna kill each other before we even get there,” Bucky sighs, trying to persuade Steve to send someone else.

“Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, I agree with metal arm here,” you confess, pointing to the man standing behind you.

“Look, I wish I could help but it’s already decided, and besides, you two have to learn how to not almost kill one another every time something happens.” he finishes, a desperate look on his face. You just sigh, standing up again and walking out after Bucky but not before Steve could whisper “good luck” into your ear, earning a smile from you. As much as you hate this assignment, maybe something good would come out of it.

~

Arriving at the neighbourhood you search for the given address only to stop in front of a huge house. And by huge you mean huge. Your eyes widen, mouth left agape. Bucky’s expression matches yours, almost wishing you could capture his face in a picture, using it for blackmailing later. A chuckle escapes your lips, waking him up from the trance he was previously in.

“Something funny, Y/L/N?” he asks, annoyance practically lacing his voice.

“No, not at all,” you lie, only to turn around and continue silently laughing. Your snickering is soon interrupted though, someone coming by and greeting the two of you. Quickly moving closer to Bucky you interact your fingers with his, a fake smile appearing on your face.

“Hi, nice to meet you!!” you greet back, shaking their hands, Bucky doing the same.

“You must be the new neighbours! I’m Karen and this is Russ,” the woman introduces, pointing to her husband.

“It’s nice to meet you too!” you reply, secretly nudging Bucky to show some excitement. He understands the hint, putting on a smile himself.

“Do you need any help with the boxes?” Russ asks, what would’ve been a nice gesture if he wasn’t just trying to get on your good side by wanting to help.

“Oh, no thank you,” you answer, the truck with all the items arriving as if the driver would know what you were just talking about. “We gotta go now, but it was fun meeting you!”

“You too,” she says as the two of them walk away, leaving Bucky and you to unpack.

~

After a couple of hours, everything is set up, from the surveillance gear to the normal stuff, you know, the usual stuff you bring when you’re moving. It isn’t much, since you aren’t going to be here for years but just enough to convince the neighbours you are, in fact, a “normal” couple.

“Do you think they are the masterminds?” you suddenly ask, pointing to the house across from you, gesturing to the couple you met before. Bucky shakes his head no, a focused pout appearing on his face.

“I don’t think so, I just think they are the usual American couple. You know, the one who pretends to like everyone but in reality really despises people,” he explains when he sees your confused expression. You bark out a laugh at that, quickly stopping yourself. It was the first genuine laugh you have ever let slip past your lips in the presence of him when it wasn’t laughing at him. That caught you off guard, leaving you confused for a second.

“I think we got different perspectives on what a basic American couple is. But I’ll take your explanation for these two, cause her name is Karen and let’s just say I don’t have many friendly encounters with Karens,” you smile, Bucky mirroring your expressions. “Also, you can bet that if she had a son she would name him Hunter or something like that,” you add, a chuckle escaping his throat. Oh, god. That sound. You would do anything to hear him do that again.

“Yeah, I can agree on that,” he replies, still not dropping the smile. You suddenly realise this is the longest conversation you have had with the man without fighting. It’s a weird feeling, he seems… less annoying now that you’re out of the compound.

“So, who’s going to be on the watch first? We know it’s one of these people living in houses around us, it’s just a matter of time before they make a mistake,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence. He shrugs, saying he can start if that’s what you want. You’re surprised by his gentleness, how he just casually said “if you want to”, instead of bossing you around like he usually does. You’re slowly starting to get creeped out by all this, the Bucky sitting in front of you is not the one you know.

“Okay, sure. I guess I’ll make dinner then,” you state, cringing at the words leaving your mouth. He makes a face too, looking weirdly at you. “What, we have to eat!” you defend, Bucky raising his hands in defeat.

“I just didn’t think you were the cooking type, that’s all,” he mutters, earning an amused eye roll from you.

“There are many talents you don’t know I have,” you whisper with a wink, turning around on your heels and heading for the kitchen.

~

You head back to where Bucky is sitting with the surveillance gear, two plates in your hand. It smells delicious, at least to you. You decided to cook your favourite meal, thinking that if you can’t get anything good out of this mission you can at least eat tasty food.

Sitting down opposite of him you place a plate next to his arm, not disturbing his focus even a little. You turn to him, slowly starting to dig into the dish. There’s something on his face, a slight shade of discomfort that you can’t quite pinpoint the cause of.

“I’d say take a picture, it’ll last longer but I’m the one holding the camera,” he jokes, catching you in the act. You haven’t even realised you were staring until he called you out on it. You feel a blush creeping up your neck, so you focus back on eating.

“Eat before it gets cold,” you urge, pushing the plate a little closer to him. He obliges, picking up the fork and taking a bite.

“You know, this is not as terrible as I expected it to be,” he confesses, earning a slight slap on the arm from you.

“Hey!” you defend, knowing he was just teasing but giving him the satisfaction nonetheless. But when you think about it, that was a compliment. What the hell? Did James Buchanan Barnes really just compliment you? What is going on?

“Oh, that is not good,” Bucky warns, straightening up. You look at the monitor, your eyes laying on a female form, talking to a male, who’s just enough light up by a street light you recognise him as the informant for the operation the two of you are trying to take down. “Grab your gun and let’s go,” he quickly orders, and you obey. Running down the stairs to the door you point your gun at the ground, looking around the house just to be careful. After all, you wouldn’t wanna someone lurking in the house while you’re out.

Bucky looks over his shoulder to you, pointing to the side door, a silent order that means you should exit there. And once again, you do what you’re told, even though no one said he’s in charge but it’s not really the time for arguing.

Once you’re both outside you look at each other, trying to figure out what to do next without exchanging words. One look at you and you know what he’s thinking about. You both jump around the corner, where the two of them were supposed to be but the street is empty. You lower your gun, a sigh of disapproval slipping past your lips. You really thought you would solve this right about now so you can go home, away from all this weirdness.

“I know,” he says as he hears you, understanding what that was for. “Maybe they split up just as we left?” he suggests, trying to help with the disappointment.

“Probably,” you groan, turning around and starting to walk back to the house. You don’t even take five steps when shots start ringing out - even though it surprised you more than anything ever did, you duck down, your body reacts on its own. Just like the next couple of things are a blur, you somehow manage to lift up your weapon, shooting at the place where you believe the enemy is.

You can hear Bucky groaning, his body laying on the floor as his hand clutches his shoulder and after a minute when no bullets are flying around anymore you run to him, still on high alert. “Bucky!” you whisper-yell, kneeling down beside him. That’s when you see his bloodied shirt, your eyes going wide. “You’re hit.” you mutter, still not believing your eyes.

“I’ll be fine, it barely grazed me,” he assures, but you don’t believe him. Putting away your weapon you help him get up, walking back into the house. He’s practically leaning on you for support, all his power focused on not collapsing till you get to anything he can sit on.

You guide him to the kitchen where he sits on a chair behind the diner table. “Take off your shirt,” you order, already searching for gauzes and stuff to help stop the bleeding.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt, we have to stop the bleeding,” you reply in a worried tone. He obeys, taking off his shirt, hissing at the pain. You close your eyes momentarily, evening out your breathing. You need to be focused right now, your hands need to stop shaking. So you calm down a little, at least enough that you can help him with his wound. “We need to clean it up first,” you inform, swallowing hard when you sense the tremor in your voice. “This shouldn’t hurt, it’s only water,” you try to comfort as you turn to him, only now properly scanning the wound. It’s not that deep, it just grazed him as he said. The bleeding is also not that strong so it should be easy to stop.

“I told you I’m fine,” he softly mutters as his eyes lay upon your focused expression. You look at his face for a second before turning back to his arm.

“Yeah, well, I hope you know how damn lucky you are,” you comment through gritted teeth, anger now boiling inside your veins. The truth is, you don’t even know why you’re mad; he couldn’t predict the bullets, nor was it his fault one hit him. It’s just- everything is too overwhelming. The fact that you were almost shot less than a couple of minutes ago, that your partner actually was, and the worst part of all? You still don’t know the identity of the target.

“Y/N, look at me. I’m okay,” he reassures, suddenly feeling like he needs to tell you again upon hearing the rage in your voice.

“I know. I know,” you whisper, taking a couple of deep breaths. That calms you down a little, the anger disappearing, worry replacing it again. You manage to stop shaking, clean the wound and put on a bandage. He thanks you, a small smile on his lips. Now that the heat of the moment is over you realise what you did - in all the chaos you haven’t noticed you sat down on his lap, nor how weird it was, hearing him be nice to you. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” he a little awkwardly replies, also only now realising what you did. His reassurance is enough to make you stay put, allowing your eyes to drag along his body. Moving from the injured arm down his chest, his abs and back up to his scar, where his metal arm begins. You go to touch it but think better of it, knowing he doesn’t like people going anywhere near there with their hands. Truth be told all you want to do is run your fingers along it, or press kisses there, reminding him that The Winter Soldier is not something he has control over, kissing it better, letting him know that all those kills were not on him.

So you do. You touch the scar with the tips of your fingers, testing the water first. He flinches a little but does nothing to indicate he’s uncomfortable, making you look at his face. You stare into those ocean eyes of his, getting lost in the blue. Honestly, you’ve never thought you could ever admit even to yourself that you have feelings for him but when you look into those orbs everything seems so easy all of a sudden. Sighing you lean a little closer, momentarily allowing yourself to glance at his lips. It was so quick and so swift yet he managed to notice, finally seeing the signs that have been there since the moment the two of you met. The never-ending tension, the lingering glances, everything comes rushing to the surface.

“Bucky…”

“I know,” he mutters, crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is sweet yet passionate at the same time, all of your feelings poured into it. His hand is on your waist, the other in your hair - your arms are around his neck, trying to grip something, anything to ground yourself.

After a couple of seconds, you pull away, the urge to breathe becoming too much. You place your forehead against his, your eyes still closed as you take in what just happened. After so much time spent convincing yourself that there was nothing behind that teasing and those witty remarks, everything came crashing down. The tension finally exploded, the feelings were too much to bear.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, still not opening his eyes. You laugh happily, still not fully believing all this. He soon joins in, finally looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his.

“I still don’t like you though,” you joke, moving away a little so you could see him properly.

“Yeah, I don’t think I do either,” he adds, pulling a couple more chuckles from you.

“I hate you,” you say, playing with his hair. You don’t really mean it, and he knows it - in fact, those words have a whole new meaning to them now.

“I hate you too,” he replies, pulling you in for another kiss. You smile into it, moving impossibly closer. He simply re-adjusts his hands, hugging you tightly, enjoying that you’re finally in his arms, that you’re finally his.

marvel taglist: @mahjaabeen @hallecarey1 @mirclealignr @cupids-crystals @mcufossilman

bucky barnes: @tenaciousperfectionunknown @pinkcloxds @jackys-stuff-blog @kimoralov3 @mollysolo @johnmurphyisqueer @fairydxll @msfandomfreak

i hope you enjoyed this! don't forget to like, reblog and/or comment, it really helps writers with motivation <33

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[tsukishumai]

pairing: tsukishima kei x reader

word count: 900+

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Jesus Christ, you are so annoying.”

The look on your face when those words slipped passed his lips was something that has kept Tsukishima up for the past two nights. A cross between hurt and frustration, thinly veiled by your poor attempt at a neutral expression.

You didn’t say anything as you turned around and walked away from Tsukishima. After weeks of having you all in his face, he thought the image of your retreating back would provide him at least some relief.

It started so suddenly, like someone had yanked a veil from Tsukishima’s head and suddenly he was surrounded by blinding light. Tsukishima could never, for the life of him, figure out why you set your sails towards him, but it was jarring for him to be such a large blip on someone’s radar.

He thought it was weird that you always tried talking to him, asking him questions about volleyball club or how his day went. It didn’t matter if he gave you short and curt responses, you would keep pace with him as he walked down the halls, filling in the gaps of his silence with your endless chatter.

It irked him that you seem to insist on coming to every single one of his games, and irked him even more so that he was able to pick your voice out from the crowd, cheering out his name sprinkled with declarations of victory. It was annoying when his teammates would tease him about it, yet he wonders why he never told you to stop going.

It was annoying - the way you buzzed around his life like a worker bee desperately trying to feed its queen, hoping to get even just one drop of honey.

It was annoying - how you managed to fit yourself so easily and willingly into his routine, and now he can’t really remember when you weren’t a part of it in the first place.

Tsukishima is not used to the brightness of the sun, and he can’t help but wait for the moment he gets burned.

Yet you rip at every precaution, every boundary he tried to set, leaving him bare and exposed to the harsh rays of affection he never even wanted.

Annoying. Annoying. Annoying.

But this. This is a million times worse.

He doesn’t understand why his stomach sinks to the floor when he steps out of class, and you’re no longer there waiting for him to have lunch. Nor does he know why his feet always start to move to the direction of your classroom.

He can’t explain the hollowness in his chest when he sees you sitting at your desk, headphones on and scrolling through your phone as you picked at the food in your bento box. The urge to call out for you always hits him like a wave, but when he opens his mouth, he can never find enough air in his lungs to make a sound.

This is so stupid. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

Didn’t it irritate him whenever you visited him at practice with a sports drink and banana so he doesn’t cramp? He told you not to bother, and that he didn’t need you to take care of him, you weren’t his mom.

So why were his eyes darting to the door every five minutes, waiting for your head to peek in with a smile?

Even worse - why does it bother him so much when you don’t?

This is stupid.

Didn’t he hate finding you waiting for him outside the locker rooms, claiming he had to walk you home because the sky was getting dark and it was dangerous for you to go alone? You lived fifteen minutes passed his own home, and he gets stuck walking more than he has to. He complained to you all the time, and you’d just laugh and tell him to be a gentleman.

He didn’t want to be a gentleman. He didn’t want to do any of that stuff. He just wanted to go home and get some rest.

Yet when he finally finds himself standing in front of the gate of his home, his tired legs don’t stop.

This is stupid, he thinks as he walks the extra fifteen minutes he’s grown accustomed to walking every day.

He thought it was annoying, the way you managed to weave your very essence into the fabric of his life before he could even notice.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He repeated the words in his head as he gave your door three rapt knocks. He hears stumbling from the other side, fiddling with his fingers as he waited on your doorstep.

The door swung open, and Tsukishima felt his heart squeeze at the sight that greeted him. You stared at him in stunned silence, dressed in a set of dinosaur pajamas he remembers you buying on one of your walks home simply because he mentioned he maybe, kind of thought they were cute.

“In your pajamas already?” Tsukishima said, an attempt to break the silence. “It’s barely seven o’clock.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask quickly, and honestly, Tsukishima wants to know that himself.

“I haven’t seen you the past few days,” he says the first thing that comes to mind, shoving his hands in his pocket as he looked at anywhere but you.

You crossed your arms, leaning back on your foot and popping a hip. “I thought I was annoying?”

You were annoying. It annoyed him that you were so kind to him, that you knew exactly how to make him laugh, how to get him to talk, how to make him feel comfortable.

It was annoying.

But ...

“I never said I didn’t like it.”

Your grip on your door handle tightened, knuckles turning white as Tsukishima watched the heat spread on your cheeks.

“Y-you’re so - ! Ugh! You’re so stupid!”

Tsukishima wanted to laugh. He was incredibly stupid.

[stratiotis-nth]

Ever since Cas came back and turned human, it would seem he’s stopped giving a shit about literally everything. When Dean noticed this new aspect of Cas’ colorful personality, he had made himself paranoid that Cas would suddenly start flirting with him on the regular now that his big confession was out in the open.

So while Dean was scared shitless, he was confusingly disappointed when Cas didn’t do that at all.

No. The first thing the ex-angel did after surviving another encounter with death was start a Shotgun war with Sam.

And no, not the bang bang kinda shotgun.

“Shotgun!” Cas practically bellowed down the corridor as the three of them were getting ready to get dinner.

“That’s not fair, Cas! I’m in the bathroom!” Sam complained through the closed door. Cas ignored him completely as he strode past and ducked into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean, who had been desperately trying to stay out of this war, just gave Cas a sideways smile.

“Y’know, the rules are you can’t call shotgun until you actually see the car, Cas.” He told him, his lips tugging up in amusement and…just happiness that Cas was close.

“Until Sam demands to implement this rule, I will abuse his ignorance.” Cas replied, smiling softly. Once again, every time Cas won the passenger seat, Dean wanted to ask what was with his sudden obsession with it. It wasn’t like Cas hadn’t been stubborn enough to claim it before he became human. He wondered what changed, why Cas suddenly cared about seating arrangements. But, as he had been doing ever since they got Cas back (again), Dean bit his tongue. He didn’t want to overwhelm the newly human with the tsunami of questions he had.

Sam griped the entire way to the diner, grumbling about being squished even though Dean knew there was more than enough space. Cas sat next to Dean, watching the trees amble by with a serene, totally unaffected smile on his face. Pleased as a pickle. Dean was fighting his own internal battle between his burning questions and undying amusement at Sam’s plight.

At the diner, Cas sat next to Dean. That much was hardly anything new. The two just naturally gravitated towards each other, and after Dean caught himself drifting mindlessly towards Cas more times than he could count, he stopped giving him grief about personal space.

Cas’ thigh brushed up against his almost the entire meal. Dean pretended not to notice, but internally, he was melting into a puddle of bi panic.

In the parking lot, Sam was quick to call shotgun when Cas got distracted by their waitress catching up to him and giving him her phone number. Dean was too busy bristling and snapping at Cas to hurry up to even notice Sam was sitting next to him.

Cas sulked the entire ride home, the waitress’ number stuffed into one of his pockets. Dean tried not to think that maybe Cas was saving her number for another time.

On Saturday, it was Dean’s turn to go on a food run. Sam was busy working a ghoul case with Eileen, so when Cas wanted to come along there was no yelling match over the front. He ducked into the passenger seat and just about blinded Dean’s poor weak heart with a smile that crinkled his nose.

They fought over eggs for about twenty minutes in the diary aisle. Dean win by threatening to give Sam exclusive access to shotgun. Cas relented with a glower that could have smote demons if he still had his grace.

Eventually, Sam did implement the rule about only calling shotgun with the car in sight, and as the weeks went by and Dean’s silent journey is self realization unfolded, the war at escalated. Now, neither of them could call shotgun without all three of them being in sights of the car. It had gotten bad enough that Sam and Cas waited impatiently for Dean in the garage, staring expectantly for him to round the corner so they could have their yelling match.

Cas nearly blew Dean’s eardrums out, bellowing “SHOTGUN!” loud enough to drown out Sam. He angrily opened his mouth to argue when his phone started ringing.

“It’s Eileen.” He said, his back snapping straight and immediately answering the video call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Can you give me a ride?” Dean could hear Eileen’s voice over the tinny speakers. “My car broke down and the nearest shop is two hours away.”

“Where are you?”

“An hour away from you? It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Dean saw Sam’s face soften, the tension of worry falling away. He butted in, sticking his face in view of the camera so Eileen could read his lips.

“Just tow it here. I can patch your ride.” He said. “Sam can take the tow truck.”

“Are you sure?” Eileen asked.

“Course. ‘Sides, those guys won’t give you a fair price anyway.” Dean flapped his hand dismissively.

“Thanks, Dean.” Eileen beamed, and oh, Dean knew that smile. Mischievous and damnit, she had planned this from the start, hadn’t she? Just to get a free repair out of him. Dean squinted suspiciously at her, and Eileen just wiggled her eyebrows.

“Cas and I can pick up the curse box and meet you two back here in a few hours.” Dean said. He saw Cas immediately brighten, having secured the passenger seat.

Cas was looking particularly triumphant as they drove, his knees rocking back and forth in a content, mindless sort of way. Finally, Dean couldn’t hold back the question anymore.

He had done his work accepting the fact that he wasn’t as straight as he thought, that it wasn’t very heterosexual to stare at Cas’ lips or pop an awkward boner seeing him all cleaned up after Purgatory, or completely shutting down every time he died or getting all prickly when waitresses give him her phone number. He was gay for Cas, and he had just gotten around to accepting this. Cas said he loved him, right? so Dean shouldn’t be afraid or rejection or anything. Yeah, no he was terrified.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He turned to him with that soft smile that Dean wanted all to himself.

“I gotta ask, man,” Dean chuckled a little awkwardly and kept his eyes firmly on the road. “Why are you so determined about sitting shotgun? You’ve never been before.”

“Ah.” Cas hummed, turning back to the road too. “I suppose now I have the freedom to pursue the things I want. Chuck is gone and my deal with the Empty is null in void. I have time to…focus my attentions on other things.”

“The things you want? What, you got a better view up here or something?”

“Well yes, the windshield does allow more viewing space.” Cas agreed. “But it’s not my main goal in doing all this.”

“Then…what is?”

“Dean.” Cas said in that ever patient, you’re-being-dumb-about-this voice. “I enjoy being up here because it allows me to be closer to you. You are the view I most admire, Dean. I’m always so helplessly drawn to you.”

Dean’s mouth had gone a little dry and his grip on the wheel was suddenly sweaty. The silence that fell was deafening. Cas didn’t even look concerned. He just sat there waiting the road as if he hadn’t just said something so…so…soft to Dean.

Helplessly drawn. Like Cas couldn’t bear being away from him. Like Dean was this perfect, magnetic thing that Cas was enchanted by, something worth having around.

With a jerk of the wheel, Dean was pulling over on the side of the empty highway in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He threw Baby into park before twisting around and staring at Cas.

He didn’t even look vaguely concerned, the fucker. He just gave Dean a patient look.

Dean opened his mouth, and closed it. Did it again, ready to tell Cas everything. Snapped his jaw shut.

Cas watched in cool amusement. Dean felt his cheeks get hot.

“Screw this.” He grumbled to himself, before lunging across the bench, grabbing Cas’ face with both hands, and kissing him square on the lips.

He felt Cas freeze for a moment, probably in total shock, before he started moving.

Dean nearly choked on a gasp as the chapped, warm lips started pushing and devouring, Cas was suddenly the one taking charge, shoving Dean back against his window as he clambered across the seats to get on top of him.

Twelve years of pent up emotions came crashing out in a sudden burst of unstoppable passion. And as soon as it started, it seemed to have stopped. They both were panting, Dean’s jeans were tight and his entire body screamed to have Cas against him again. But Cas had made to move away, putting space between him as he looked at Dean with wide eyes.

He didn’t get very far. Dean grabbed ahold of his jacket lapels and held on tight with an iron grip, keeping Cas hovering inches above him, basically sharing air.

“Wanna hear a secret?” He whispered between heavy breathes. Cas just blinked at him. “I’ve always rooted for you getting shotgun.”

Cas’ kiss swollen lips split into a dazzling smile, and he rewarded Dean with another intense make out session. When they pulled away, Dean found the words spilling out of his mouth.

“I love you too, Cas. You can have me. God, you have had me, for years you have. Can’t believe it took me so long, I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t have me, I’m sorry it took me so long—“

Cas shut him up with another kiss, and Dean’s ramble faded into a helpless whimper that too was swallowed up by Cas.

“Does this mean I get exclusive shotgun privileges?” Cas asked a few hours later than they finally took the curse box off the poor shopkeeper’s hands. They had arrived nearly an hour late, not that Dean (or his dick for that matter) particularly cared.

“Honestly? Play it up to Sam and he might let you get away with it for a while.” Dean chuckled. Without even thinking too hard about it, his free hand slithered over the bench, grabbing Cas’ and entwining their fingers. Something so small and simple, yet made Dean light up like a sun.

If Cas didn’t manage to convince Sam, Dean sure as hell would.

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

Empty Mugs and Unexpected Hugs (H.O) 🔥

Word count: 3.3K

Enemies to lovers

(HarrisonOsterfeildxReader)

Warnings: Smut (fingering, unprotected sex *Wrap it up*) cussing, that’s probably it..

🌼🌸 MASTERLIST 🌸🌼

With Tom came Harrison, you knew that. What you didn't know was when you had agreed to a roommate situation with Tom, you were also agreeing to one with Haz. “Tom, you said ‘would you like to live with me.’ not ‘me and Haz’” you told him as you stared at the blonde boy who was carrying box after box. He opted to do this shirtless, despite the cold London breeze. A sheen layer of sweat glistened on his overly defined chest, and you hated the way you longed to reach out and touch him.

“I figured you just knew?” Tom said coyly rubbing the back of his neck as he saw the way you stared down his best friend. He wasn't blind, he knew the hatred you supposedly had towards Haz was something with much deeper roots, but anytime he tried to figure it out, you would deflect and change the subject.

“I'm not doing either of your dishes,” you said loudly enough to catch Harrison's attention.

“Wouldn't expect you to, princess,” he winked at you. With a loud groan, and a dramatic flip of your hair, you proceed to your empty room to unpack your things.

Living with Tom and Harrison was way more entertaining than you had ever thought possible. Most nights were spent at the dining room table with one to many empty beer bottles laid out in front of you, while you laughed and joked about things that were probably not funny. Of course there were also the quiet days when Tom was away filming with Haz in tow, and on those days you would usually have the company of one or both of the twins.

“You should just admit you love him,” Sam said suddenly while you were taking a sip of your beer, causing you to spit your drink all over the table.

“Sammy!” You cried out the sting of beer in your nostrils. “I do not,”

“Y/N, It's written all over your face,” Harry argued. They were supposed to be on your side, you had been friends with the twins for years, the only reason you even knew Tom, was because of Sam and Harry..

“I do not love Harrison,” You told them, but even you were unconvinced by your own words.

It was late when you heard the front door to the flat open. The twins had left a few hours prior, Tom was in the states, and Harrison was with him, so who was coming into the apartment?

You were in just a shirt, an old one of Harrison's you had taken a while back, and a pair of cheeky underwear. Tip toeing to your bedroom door and grabbing a golf club from your bag, you proceeded to sneak down the hallway to the large living area where the front door was. Your heart was pounding with the thought of having to defend the place against an intruder, in just your underwear nonetheless. You saw a shadow, next to the couch, and raised the club ready to attack. As soon as you went for it, the lamp flicked on and Harrison saw you charging towards him with a golf club. Luckily he had fast reflexes, catching the club in one hand and your quickly moving body in the other. “Christ Y/N. What are you doing?” he asked, holding your body close to his. You felt your muscles relax into him, thankful he was in fact not an intruder, and you wouldn't have to explain why there was an intruder beaten and bloody by your hand to the authorities.

“I thought you were a robber,” You admitted coyly, stepping back a bit to look at him. His piercing blue eyes looked deep into yours, a small smile on his lips as his eyes trailed down your overly exposed body.

“So you would charge at an intruder with a bright pink putter, in just your underwear?” he asked you. “Also is that my shirt?” you could feel your cheeks heat up. You pushed away from his body with a scoff and turned to go back to your room, already done with him, but his hand caught your wrist, pulling your body back into his arms. His grip was tight as he held your body close to his. Something was off. Something was wrong. This was abnormal, Haz without Tom, and showing you any sort of affection.

“Hazzy, why are you home?” You asked, finally wrapping your arms around his waist, accepting the unexpected hug that you usually would not share with Him.

“Family stuff, I've been back for a few days. Just been with my mom,” He said, still holding you. You instinctively hug him tighter, getting the feeling that something bad had happened.

“You okay?” You asked him quietly. To which he just hummed into your head, still holding you.

“Better now,” He whispers. You're so confused, and exposed. You hear the twins' voices in the back of your head. ‘Just admit it, you love him.’ Was that what you had been feeling for months on end? Is that the feeling you were feeling now, making your stomach turn? “I missed you,” He whispers and you swear you could feel him press a kiss against the top of your head. It's too much, so suddenly.

“I need to..” you push your body away, scrambling to find any words to get you away, your mind is clouded by thoughts and feelings. “Pants,” You finally let out, leaving Harrison in the living room, stunned at how flustered you had become in the matter of a millisecond.

As soon as you're back in your room, you let out a groan, you're so confused. He missed you? You? y/n? Why would he miss you? All the two of you did was bicker, bicker and flirt. Flirt. Because you did in fact have feelings for Harrison. Feelings that were not not supposed to be had towards him..

“Y/N? Can I come in?” you haven't even put on pants yet when his voice calls to you through the closed door.

“Sure,” You call out to him, desperately searching your floor for the discarded sweats you had had on a few hours before. Nowhere, great. He cleared his throat from behind you, while you were bent over, ass on full display. Fully aware now, of how exposed you are you decide to just crawl under your blanket on your bed.

“Did I do something?” He asked, concern plastered all over his face.

“What? No, why would you think-”

“You just ran from me, like literally ran, after trying to attack me with a golf club,” He points out, making you cringe.

“I- Uh, yeah. I'm sorry about nearly attacking you,” You mumble, a little more embarrassed than you'd like to admit.

“So why'd you run away?” he pondered, watching you closely as you struggled to find your words. Unbeknownst to you Harrison was also having an internal crisis. You were Y/N. Someone Tom considered a little sister, Harry and Sam's best friend, but he couldn't help the way that you made him smile every time you couldn't open a jar, and would defeatedly ask him for help after way too long of attempting it yourself. Or the way you would curse at the line of dirt that you could never seem to sweep into the dustpan. The way you would always make a cup of tea before finishing the last, leaving so many mugs with a single drink all over the place, something that would drive any other person crazy, but he just found it endearing, and was sure if it ever stopped, he would miss it.

“You said you missed me,” You finally managed to say, making a smile spread over Harrison's lips. He took a chance, stepping into your room, towards where you were sitting on the bed, and when you didn't object, he crossed the empty space sitting right next to you.

“I did miss you,” He said, grabbing your hand and squeezing it gently.

“We fight, and argue,” You started, obviously ready to explain all the reasons he shouldn't have missed you.

“And we flirt, and share memories, and glances. You drive me nuts y/n. But the second I step out that door, I miss it all. The obnoxious quirks, the way you can't pronounce some things correctly, no matter how often I correct you. I miss hearing you call out goodnight to me in the nighttime, and how you always wish me to have sweet dreams. I don't know when, or why it happened, but yeah. When I'm gone I miss you,” you feel a tear escape your eye at his confession, not sure exactly what to say or think for that matter. His finger caresses your cheek wiping the tear from your face.

“Haz?” You whisper.

“Yes?” He asks, full attention turned to you.

“I miss you when you're gone too,” You finally admit, a weight lifting from your chest. He's thankful to know his feelings aren't completely one sided. Your admission of missing him is at least enough to confirm that you don't actually hate him. “Can I be honest?” You ask, catching even yourself off guard.

“Please,” He says, waiting for you to say whatever you had to say.

“I- '' You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for rejection and embarrassment, but if you wait much longer, you'll never say what you have to. “I get so irritated with you, because everything you do just draws me in. I can't not stare, or listen. It drives me nuts, to be so flustered by everything that you do, and it's the simple things Haz, the way you insist on sitting on the left side of the couch, or how you always make sure I've eaten after a long day. The way you constantly clean up my mugs that I leave everywhere, and you have never once said a thing about them, even if you have had every right to,” you don't even want to look at him, afraid he will be appalled, but you have to say it. “I’m pretty sure I've managed to fall in love with you, while trying desperately to hate you,” you whisper.

That's enough of a confirmation for Harrison, that you're on the same page. With his hand gently on your face, pulling your chin up towards him, he leans in, pressing his lips ever so gently against yours. And the electricity that you both feel from the slightest touch? Fucking magic.

“I tried so hard not to love you,” He whispers. You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes gazing directly into yours, and it's like you're looking at the sky on a clear summer day. “And dear God did I fail,” he whispers, making you melt. He leans back down, this time kissing you with something so much more. It's meaningful, it's beautiful, it's everything you have wanted without realizing it. Your hands are against his chest, feeling each thud of his heart, while his are cupping your face. He kisses you like his life depends on it, and in that moment it surely feels like it does. He deepens the kiss, his tongue making its appearance in your mouth. It's everything and more. You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to extend this moment forever, and his slip down to your waist, pulling you closer. He pulls away, and a soft whine escapes your lips.

“Tell me to stop,” He whispers, as he caresses your cheek. Eyes searching your face, making sure he's not crossing a line. You lean into his hand, closing your eyes and letting a soft humm leave your lips. With no objection from you, he reconnects your lips for a third time tonight. This time it's hot, so so hot. You can feel the ache forming in your stomach as his lips move from yours to your neck. You need him, you have to have him, just a little taste and you realize you have been starving. With a swift motion you're straddling him now, leaning down into him instead of leaning up, giving him so much more access to your neck and jaw, and then he remembers an unanswered question from before.

“This is my shirt,” He says, this time it's not a question, just a statement.

“Yeah,” You giggle. His eyebrows raise a bit as he remembers all the shirts that have seemingly disappeared over the last few months.

“Do you have others?” He asks. You feel like you have been caught red handed, nowhere to go or hide.

“I- Yes,” You admit. “I like to sleep in them,”

“In just your underwear?” He asks, to which you shyly nod. He throws his head back and lets out a dramatic sigh. He's done for, “That is so fucking hot,” he mutters before leaning back in taking your bottom lip between his and sucking it slightly. He feels his pants tighten as your hips grind into him instinctively, and you're so wet and warm he can practically feel it through his jeans.

“Hazzy,” you moan as he pushes you down onto him, providing a friction you desperately need, even though it's not what you want.

“What is it?” He asks you, as he does it a second time. Your head falls down onto his shoulder, and you don't know if you can even express what it is you want.

“Can you..” You trail off.

“Can i?” he asks, needing to hear you say it out loud.

“Touch me?” The words are like music to his ears, flipping you onto your back as he slips his hand between your bodies, running his fingers along the damp fabric of your ruined panties. The fact that you're this wet from just kissing is driving him crazy. He slips his hand into your panties, finally sliding his long digits along your slit. One thing about Harrison that drove you absolutely crazy was his hands, because dear god were they perfect, his long fingers and veiny tops, you'd be lying if you said you had never gotten off imagining his fingers in the place of yours, and now, actually having the real thing, you felt like you were flying.

As he slid his finger inside you, you let out a gasp, his being so much bigger than your own, and it being way too long since you had been with anyone.

“Say the word and I'll stop,” He says, as he looks at your face twisted in pleasure, but he can't tell that it's not pain, he's never seen you like this before. This is a whole new territory.

“Please.. Please don't,” You nearly beg as your hips buck against his hand. The smirk that replaces the concern on his face is unbelievably hot, his pupils are blown with lust and you're sure yours are as well. He thrusts his one finger in and out grazing against your spot each and every time, his palm rubbing your clit as he does so. You're going to lose it, this is so much better than you could have ever imagined. He pulls his finger out, causing a whine from you, which quickly turns to a gasp as he replaces it with two. If you're falling apart to his fingers you're not sure how you'll be able to handle his cock.

“Hazzy,” You moan out, right on the brink of losing it.

“Come on my fingers princess,” He coos, and that is precisely what you do, your whole body shakes in pleasure, and your toes curl, and he keeps going, as your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

Once your legs finally stop shaking he pulls his hand away, and although that was probably the most powerful orgasm you had ever had, it is not nearly enough. “Haz.” You say quietly as he peppers kisses on your neck.

“Hmm?” He hums.

“Need more, need you,” you say, and his head peaks up, a smile on his face, a bit in excitement, a bit in surprise.

“You sure?” he asks, to which you respond by kissing him, you nibble at his bottom lip, and he lets out a moan. You reach down unbuttoning his jeans and sliding his zipper down, and he assists you in pulling them down. You can clearly see his length through his boxers, his cock, rock hard and leaking on to his boxers, it's flattering. You let your fingers trail his length and you can feel his eyes on your hand, and you're not sure if he's worried, nervous, or excited. You slide his boxers down and his cock springs free, and you can see the violent red hue of the tip, he's begging to be touched and he hasn't even said a thing. You wrap your hand around him and he lets out a gasp at the sudden contact, you stroke your hand up and down a few times before, he pushes you back onto the bed and climbs over you. He slides his fingers in the hem of your panties and slowly drags them down your legs, before dropping them to the floor, and then takes his time lifting his shirt over his head, exposing his chest, you follow suit, and throw the shirt you had on to the ground. You're both completely naked now, no turning back, you've made it this far already.

"Y/n, baby we don't have to," he whispers against your ear.

"Hazzy, stop worrying and fuck me please," you nearly beg as you pull his lips to yours in a desperately hungry kiss.

"Christ," he mutters as he lines himself at your entrance, pushing into you at a slow, agonizing speed. Of course he's only doing this to make sure you're ok, his fingers seemed like so much to your tight pussy he's worried he's going to hurt you. But the way you moan out his name gives him full confidence that you in fact are fine. Once he's fully sure you're fine to take him, he speeds up his thrusts, finding a place that is perfect for the both of you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he pounds into you. You're not sure you're going to last long.

"Not gonna last," you moan into his lips.

"S'okay, me either," he says back. He slips his hand down, rubbing your clit strategically. You let out another loud moan before his name leaves your lips, repeatedly as you convulse around his cock, and it's only one more thrust before he completely empties himself into you.

It's a few quiet moments of your bodies laying flush against each other, enjoying the afterglow of sex. "I'm gonna clean you up," he whispers in your ear before pushing himself up and off of you. He disappears from the room for what feels like an eternity, but is back within a minute with a warm rag and a glass of water, and he then cleans you up, being gentle with how sensitive you now are.

Your eyes get heavy after everything is said and done, and you're worried he's going to disappear from your room, but he lays next to you instead. Pulling you into his arms.

"Hazzy?" You whisper after a few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"Is everything ok with your family?" You ask, getting worried this may have been a lapse in judgement on his part because of heightened emotions.

"Yes. Char decided to give us a scare and disappear for a weekend, so I came back to try and keep my mom from murdering her," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Oh," you giggled.

"Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I meant it. I missed you," he says, pressing a kiss atop of your head. You smile before falling asleep in his arms. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe it would be forever. All you knew was it felt right.

[thegingerjameson]

Fate Adjacent - Prologue

Okay so a this is a repurpose of an old fanfic I wrote, so if anyone recognizes it- it is mine. 🙃 I can't get this idea out of my head and am using some pieces of what I wrote previously to tell a new story. I’m not sure what it will turn into but maybe you'd like to come along for the ride while I figure it out? 😁 I thought I'd throw this out there and see if there's any interest before I continue.

A/U and will include MOM spoilers but not quite yet.

Link to Chapter 1 below!

Warnings: Angst. Lots of angst. (My favorite.)

Prologur- (Y/N)

We begin at the end.

Anger comes first. Flashing, blinding, consuming. It starts off slow, lapping at your lungs and your fingers and your gut, building relentlessly, compelling you to run, to scream, to destroy. Your brain is a jumble of senseless firing synapses and your entire body trembles with the nervous energy of it all, from your scalp to your lips to your toes. You can't sit still, can't eat, can't sleep, can't focus on anything but the wave of rage that drives you to the edge of insanity before it swells and finally, blessedly breaks.

But after that brief moment of reprieve, when you're crashing headfirst into the next mindfuck of emotion, you find yourself longing for those ebbing, electric tides of anger and rage. Because after the anger and the rage comes the pain.

Oh God, the pain; ripping you wide open to the white-hot sun, dissecting you piece by piece, and even after you're left eradicated and empty, it continues to demand more, and more, and more.

It has been three days since Stephen left me, and I have nothing left to give.

They say that hindsight is 20/20, but I disagree. It's skewed and distorted, like being caught underwater and looking up. To reflect on the last few years and figure out how we got here is the equivalent of trying to find a needle in a haystack.

"We're broken, (y/n), and we can't fix it anymore," he'd said.

The receiver of the phone had been cool and metallic in my hand as he delivered the blow and I'd clung to it in desperation thinking that maybe, just maybe, if I held on tight enough, he would have to stay.

"It's better, for both of us, (y/n). I'm so sorry," he'd said simply, reaching across the miles, through the line, and ripping out my heart.

I wanted to beg him to come home, to love me like he'd promised- for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do us part- but the reality of the situation sent ice through my veins and I couldn't move, couldn't speak. He whispered goodbye, and I stood listening as the dial tone turned into a busy signal, thinking, why do you get to decide?

Now I sit on the cold, hard floor in the middle of the bedroom we'd shared, surrounded by pieces of him. To my right, a set of blue robes that still smells like him. To my left, the napkin covered in my hurried handwriting that I'd pressed into his palm the first night we'd met. In front of me, a black and white photo; my arms slung around his neck, squinting over his shoulder into the sun, his face turned towards mine, lips brushing my cheek.

I want to cry, but tears seem too small, too inconsequential for the massive void ahead of me that is life without him. I want to forget, but the essence of him is ingrained in every fiber of my being, and I could no more forget that than I could myself.

Instead, I struggle to my feet and make my way across our room, shoving years of memories into cardboard boxes and trying to ignore the fact that, every time another box is taped shut, a little piece of my soul stays trapped inside. I move methodically, removing anything and everything that reminds me of him until there's nothing left.

If I could take down the plaster, the wooden planks, the nails and insulation and wiring that hold this very place together and pack them away, I would. I would pack our favorite Italian restaurant down the street, every universe we’d visited, every place we'd kissed. I would pack away the sun and the moon, the clouds and the stars until there was nothing left but darkness and even then, it would remind me of the shadow of his sad smile.

We’d loved, once; unscathed by the raw and ravaged landscape that heartbreak so often leaves in its wake. We'd learned together what it was like heal; to move in synchronicity, two halves of a whole. Together we'd breathed and fought and cried and laughed and lived. I can no longer remember who I was before him, but I do know this: I will love Stephen Strange, unrequited, for the rest of my life.

Everyone has their cross to bear. This is mine.

When the last of the boxes are piled by the door and the first vestiges of sunrise appear outside my window, I crawl into our bed and pray for the numb oblivion of sleep.

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

Link to Chapter 1 

[bibbykins]

Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

Tip Jar

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[astaroth1357]

The Brothers Dropping Hints to a Remarkably Oblivious MC

I liked this idea and wanted to flesh it out a bit before I bury my head in research for requests. Maybe I'll make a part two later? Who knows.

Intro:

Seven demon brothers, one human. All seven want their attention… So the family agrees to a challenge: Can they get their human to return their affections without actually confessing first? Perhaps… but there's a catch. The MC is denser than a bag of bricks in the love department...

Good luck, boys.

Lucifer

If it weren't for this silly challenge, he'd have considered hiring a sky-writer because he couldn't think of anything more obvious and unavoidable than that…

It honestly astounded him how utterly unaffected the MC seems to be by all of his flirtations. It'd be impressive if it weren't so frustrating.

He could praise their appearance and they'd seemingly forget the compliment.

He could offer them all manner of gifts or meals and they'd think he was just being nice.

He could probably straight up give them a diamond ring and they'd assume it was a late birthday present… 

He was so out of ideas he was considering just ripping off the bandage and asking them directly, brothers be damned, but then that'd be admitting defeat and that’s just not on the table for him.

No, no… He just had to be more patient… Maybe offer them a dance next time? He'll win this challenge yet... maybe…

Mammon

Of course the Great Mammon can get his human to notice his feelings! He's their first man, he knows them more than anybody else! This will be a piece of cake. Right?... right…??

It is not. It is not a piece of cake.

First off, Mammon's already shot himself in the foot because of his tsundere-ness. Turns out when he says, "It's not because I like you!" they actually believe him… 😰

Secondly, he's terrible at expressing his affection in ways that aren't material or possessive...

When he buys them things, they think he's acting sweet and just… pay him back or buy him something in return…

Like, he's not complaining (much) but that's not the point!!

Then when he tries to spend extra time with them they assume it's Mammon being Mammon and not, like, because he's trying to show them how crazy he is about them.

And now he can’t even be honest about his feelings if he wants to because of the damn challenge!! 😫

This seemed like a lost cause for him really… Looks like someone else is going to have to win…

Leviathan

He's been cursing their name to here and back for stealing his heart so thoroughly while still having no idea that they actually had it!!! He'd almost swear they were mocking him but eventually, he genuinely started to think they were just that clueless… 🤦‍♀️

At first he thought that he found a loophole because he could just act out a bunch of obvious anime tropes to not-so-subtly hint at his affections!

...but each time he tried to make a move, he lost his nerve and chickened out at the last minute…

"MC! I just bought some pocky off of Akuzon, do you want to try some?"

"Sure, Levi! 🙂"

"Oh u-uh… Great! H-here you go.. " *hands them the whole box...*

When these efforts failed, he went to plan B, which was again not-so-subtly throwing hints at how special they were to him.

"Hey MC, do you remember that game you were looking at? I got it for us! Come on, let's play together! I'll even let you use my favorite controller!"

"MC, why don't you sit over here? W-wait not that close…! No wait, don’t go!! Urgh!! 😫"

At first he thought it was working until he overheard them talking to Mammon, "Mm? Oh, of course Levi's been so nice to me! We're best friends!"

… Ouch, but not unwarranted. He'd have to try something else or just admit defeat…

Satan

He still truly can't get a good read on them. Are they interested? Just nice? A chronic sufferer of selective blindness?? What does he have to do here???

Satan took a page out of Levi's playbook at first, but replaced anime tropes with what you find in old romance novels.

He was on his best behavior whenever MC was around. Downright gentlemanly, right down to kissing their hand and putting his jacket over puddles for them to walk.

… Unfortunately, Lucifer refused to be outshined by his little brother in the princely courtship department and the two started butting heads (almost literally).

If Satan gave up his jacket for a puddle, then Lucifer would take their hand to "help" them across it. If Satan held a door for them, then Lucifer would hold it too and insist that he go in first. If the MC was cold they suddenly were covered by two coats… It was infuriating!

And you know what's even worse? It was counterproductive.

After a while the MC just thought that it was some kind of game or challenge between him and Lucifer and not him trying to express his actual affections…

Looks like he wasn't going to be winning this either…

Asmodeus 

On one hand, he kind of gets it because he's lovey and feely with everybody but, sweetheart, please take a hint every once in a while…

Asmo comes into the game with both an advantage and disadvantage. He's far more versed in the art of wooing than any of his brothers, but he was so close with them to begin with it's going to take a lot to get the point across…

Confident boi starts inviting them out more, lunch "dates," spa days, shopping sprees, any excuse to be alone with them really hoping they'd get the idea…

...but they didn't. It was just some fun time with Asmo and not any particular special treatment…

His compliments all seemed to bounce off of them too. They never seemed particularly touched and he wouldn't be surprised if they forgot about them within five minutes of hearing them…

Kicking it up to drastic measures, he tries to initiate even more cuddles and hugs than usual… But it feels like he could literally sew himself to their clothes and they'd think he's just being friendly! How do they not see what's going on here, are they just messing with him??

After a week of trying to monopolize the MC's time he had to throw in the towel, certain if he couldn't get through to them then no one could! 😣

Beelzebub 

Well, Beel's a little oblivious himself sometimes so it's not like he couldn't relate… He just wished he could be upfront and ask them because they really didn't seem to notice.

Chances are he was already cuddling with them, sharing his food, taking them places, and doing all the stuff he'd usually do when he likes a person... They probably just considered that to be his normal behavior by that point…

So. He just does what he normally does, but MORE.

Suddenly he's giving the MC half of his meals instead of a third. (Which is what? Enough for a family of four?)

His hugs have gone from just firm to full on bear-snuggles.

He's always offering to take them to a new restaurant or some other place he likes and showing them the best things on the menu (written or hidden).

But it's not exactly going anywhere… 😥

They seemed happy and liked spending time with him but if they were actually noticing feelings for them at all, he couldn't tell…

After a while he kind of gives up on getting them to notice and just starts to enjoy making them happy. Sure, he won't win the challenge, but for now a smiling MC is enough for him 😊

Belphegor 

Look. He may be the King of Mixed Signals, but he's considering just giving up his crown but nothing he's tried has been working...

Similar to Mammon, he’s starting at a disadvantage by regularly being more than a little cryptic about his feelings…

To be honest, it was sort of a reflex for him by this point which didn’t help matters at all. He’s not that used to being completely open with his emotions so he has to fight the urge to downplay things all the time...

Oh, the MC agreed to go with him to the botanical gardens? Cool.

Wait, no, not just cool. It’s great! Really great!! He’s really happy about it, MC, can you see his smile?? He’s smiling! That’s rare! Please notice!!

(They don’t seem to notice…)

Eventually he got even more frustrated than Satan or Mammon and nearly just asked them point blank, but he knew his brothers would flip if he tried…

By the end of the challenge he thought it was a dumb, stupid waste of time and energy and he regrets ever agreeing to it (and he’s not just being pissy because he couldn’t pull it off or anything......)

Bonus: 

After a couple weeks of zero progress for everybody, the brothers seemed to snap. The MC woke up one morning for breakfast only to find their seven demons waiting intently for them to walk into the dining room. What followed was a cartoon squabble of kicked up dust, flying limbs, and thrown objects as each desperately tried to climb over the other in order to get to their human first (even Lucifer nearly flung Satan across the table by the foot at one point). Poor MC was so confused that they had to shout at them just to break up the fighting…

When asked what's gotten into their demons so suddenly, the brothers have only one response:

"WE LOVE YOU!!!" 

…. Eh? 

*MC.exe has crashed*

Back to square one, guys...

[tannieschim]

when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again. 

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, minor character death, pain, unrequited love, swearing, talks of past sexual experience while intoxicated, pining, longing, really sad reader, and lots of angst.

word count: 7.2 k

"you would die for her, for him."

"You're dying."

The two words escape past his lips steadily and breathily as your widening eyes linger on the way his hands fiddle with one another out of habit. He sighs deeply and resists the urge to avoid screaming at you and maintain eye contact out of professionalism, pushing back his slipping glasses.

"At this rate, you won't have any more than a month. Had you told me this sooner, y/n, the results wouldn't have been as scarce. But because you waited after almost a year of this, I'm afraid there's not much to do." He pushes his desk lightly to pull away from it, creating a mere distance between himself and the papers which finalized your future's passing. Reaching his collar, he tugs on his tie to loosen it before unbuttoning the first stitch as he looks at you with seemingly stray and angered eyes mixed with sympathy.

Suddenly, his sight wanders the room as he shakes his head repeatedly, scoffing in disbelief. He then smiles, dimples prominent, lip tightened, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes broken, piercing straight at its target - that being you.

Standing up, he takes off his glasses and slams his fist onto the chair's arm rest before running a hand across his hair, softly hissing.

The professionalism is now out of the drain, "You're an idiot, y/n."

"Fucking stupid. How could you not- I mean- how could you not tell me? I'm your brother! We're family. Blood. We're supposed to- we're supposed to tell each other these things and you just fucking- you kept it to yourself all these months! Ten months! And now I'm sitting here being the one to tell you that you're dying? That you're leaving me? I would've done something. I would've helped you, I- I would've killed whoever this person you're in love with is. y/n, please- I just-"

You don't know why, but you felt exhausted.

The ringing in your ears is deafening. Truthfully, you hadn't heard a single thing the minute you received news that you'll be, well, passing away. Not to mention, within 30 days time.

It's not as if you didn't already know about your condition, of course you did. Coughing soft pink camellia flowers every time you see the man that's brought you here is not exactly something that just simply passes a blind eye. You sense it, you feel it, and it hurts.

It really, really hurts.

You also felt awful for your brother. You hadn't meant for it to go this far. You didn't mean to not tell him. You didn't want your assigned doctor to suddenly call in sick and have your brother temporarily take his place. You didn't mean for him to find out this way - such a twisted, horrible fucking way, but here you are.

"I'm sorry, Joon. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to go this far. I just-"

"Were you ever even going to tell me?" He cuts you off, voice low and steady, almost afraid of your coming response.

Your eyes locate his across the cramped room, and one could clearly tell that it's striving its hardest to fight against desperate tears.

"I- yes, Joon. I was. Of course I was. I was gonna do it after this check in actually, but I guess God wanted you to find out sooner than I intended, though He could've just waited a little while longer and it would've been fine." You joke whisperingly, the heavy weight of your heart lightening just a small bit when you notice the corners of his lips twitch and his eyes faintly soften.

Regrettably, that was a lie. You didn’t plan on telling him, not today at least. Maybe not even ever.

The softening air lasts for only a second as his following question makes you hold back the urge to cough up another camellia flower slowly blooming its way to your throat.

"Who is it?"

Genuine, concerned, curious. These were all that he was.

But noticing the way your body went entirely rigid at his words and the way your hand clutched your clothed chest in attempt to shut down what you know will happen next, Namjoon's brotherly instincts causes him to naturally make his way towards you softly, taking small and careful strides towards your fragile state.

And once he's finally reached you, he gets on his knees gently in order for him to be of nearing same height level as you're sitting down, his hands rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting manner.

He does this all before pulling the trigger.

"Who are you in love with, y/n?"

two years back

"Jimin!"

You call out your brother's best friend loudly, who is currently in the midst of doing a one-man stage play in front of the mirror, "Joon's saying you guys need to get going now. Says he has a patient in two hours and wants to go over all sorts of documents before treating her."

Turning around, you scan the living room and dining room for the keys of your friend's car as your brother also asked you to hand them to him since the two always end up on forgetting it until they've already reached the car parked across your apartment's block.

You hear Jimin shuffle behind you, "Really? He wants to go over documents at- 9 AM in the morning?"

Smiling at his attempts of complaint, you nod your head softly in order to play along and answer his rhetorical question, "He really needs to learn how to drive doesn't he? Since he's dragging you along everywhere he goes."

Jimin laughs at your statement, which being an opinion, your brother would argue, 'driving isn't a necessary aspect of life.' But who really thinks like that? Oh right, non-drivers.

“I guess he’s getting too caught up in learning medicine that he forgot to learn how to officially become an adult.” Reaching above the kitchen top, you finally found sight of Jimin's car keys.

How did it even get up there? You think to yourself. It's really high up, so Namjoon must've been the one to leave it as to where it is.

You groan slightly, "Joon, can you get over here! I found Chim's keys but it's too far up high so I can't reach it. Hell I don't even think he can reach this-"

You are cut off when you feel a hand sneak around your waist, making you flinch and suddenly spin cautiously.

Eyes widened. Lips parted. Breath hitched. You let out an inaudible gasp as you come to the realization that Jimin is now in front of you, head tilted with an amused smile on his face, "Excuse you? I can very much reach this." He says, all the while reaching up behind you, inchly leaning forward. At this point, your body is being pressed up against the kitchen counter and his oh-so-very toned front.

This small action is enough to instigate a flaming abyss inside of you as you very much attempt to calm your alarmed heart.

You can feel the cuts and lines of his abs against your chest as he is now standing on his tippy toes, desperately trying to reach the keys on the kitchen top. Anyone that could see his posture would call him adorable, but your body is currently being sandwiched and by all that is high and mighty your mind can't even really process a single thing. Wait, what were you thinking just now?

"See? Got it." Jimin falls back in place as he jiggles his car keys in front of your stone-cold face, smile wide as he giggles softly, "Piece of cake, y/n."

He then proceeds to move on with his life like he didn't just do what the fuck he just did.

Clearing your throat, you blink about a million times in order to gather your thoughts. Your heartbeat is racing faster than the speed of light and your lips have become as dry as a desert. If you had gone standing on your tippy toes just as he did, you would've been a baby hair away from lips touching. The thought is enough to make you grow weak.

Yet as if something inside of you is suddenly turned on, no pun intended, you remind yourself that these thoughts are wrong. You can't be having these apprehensions, they aren't right. Because not only is he your brother's best friend, he also has a-

"y/n?" Jimin's soft voice calls out your name.

Breaking out of your trance, you turn to see him sitting down on the dining table, head tilted downwards with a small smile on his face. The sun escapes your pastel curtains as it slips past the window sill, reasoning with the current ray of golden yellow that has found its home on Jimin’s plump cheek, shining on the left side of his luminous face.

It's absolutely senseless how he can look as beautiful as he does simply by existing, and it makes perfect sense that your finding yourself to liking him more and more.

Just look at him.

You are broken out of your enchanted daze once more as dreaded words leave his smiling lips, "I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Only then were you brought back to your inadequate reality.

“W- what?” You attempt to speak, but you notice the way your voice has suddenly become noticeably hoarse.

Jimin looks up at you with a smile, the kind that has his eyes almost disappearing.

“Sung. I’m gonna ask her to marry me tonight.”

silence.

silence.

and more silence.

Like a coward, that was all what you could muster to respond with.

And only then did you notice the velvet box on his hands, upon which he is tenderly caressing. Only then did you recognize the questionable romantic script of his one-man stage just moments earlier. Only then did you realize that the reason behind his growing smile are because of her, not you. Not because of what had just taken place.

Only then did you remember that no, you can't be having these apprehensions - they aren't right.

Because not only is he your brother's best friend,

he also has a, now upcoming, fiancé.

present time

"I already loved him then, Joon."

By this time, your brother has stood up and begun pacing back and forth the modest office, murmurs of curses towards his friend escaping past his lips, "-that small son of a bitch."

Smiling softly, you look down in reminiscence of the moments you have spent falling for Jimin. "I guess I've always been infatuated with him ever since our first meeting, but my God Joonie," you pause, inhaling a short breath in attempt to stop tears threatening to spill. "-ever since that day, when he told me that he was going to propose to her, I finally realized that like was the wrong term to use. I realized that I loved him and I just- I lost sight of everything." You cry, small sobs coming from you as you blinkingly look up to try to contain the waters forming in your eyes.

It was true. That day, when he told you about his plans to ask her to marry him, you've never felt more indignant.

Of course you faked it at first, congratulated him and consoled him into truthfully believing that she will undoubtedly say yes. But the minute he and Namjoon left your apartment, you collapsed on your carpeted floors, sobbing loudly and hitting your chest repetitively all the while cursing yourself in your head for ever even considering the tiniest of possibilities that you and Jimin could ever happen.

You also went out that night, got drunk, found a guy, slept with him, and never looked back.

Sure, this may seem like a regular night out for many, but not being the type to kiss and sleep, sex meant a lot to you.

Nothing wrong with one night stands, that just wasn't your particular chosen lifestyle. But you were wasted. You were intoxicated. You didn't know what you were doing. Had you been sober, you wouldn't have done what you did, especially with the person you did it with. So when you woke up in the middle of the night naked in bed next to a familiar face and realized what you've done, you rushingly stood up, got dressed, and left, ignoring the calls of the man you had just been with.

You went straight home and washed yourself for hours, feeling dirty and sloppy and disgusting. You can easily recollect sitting down in the showers, head tucked underneath and in between your legs, sobbing and crying loudly as the steam surrounding you from the warm water kept on worsening.

You hated what you did, and you most definitely despised the reason for what you did, - to simply get over someone else. You felt guilty. You felt ashamed. What would Jimin think? You thought to yourself. And though that truly didn't really matter, the ache in your heart kept on making you believe otherwise.

You didn't notice how your tears have fallen and stained your newly-bought jeans until Namjoon's hands holding a napkin comes within your perception.

Mumbling a small 'sorry Joonie,' you accept his offer and wipe the tears still continuously streaming down your now reddened, warm, and puffy face. As you do this, you furthermore catch sight of your brother's shadow rubbing his face in frustration, matching the groans that you also hear release from him in the background. And without meaning so, you deflate in insecurity.

Hearing the sound of air being released from a pulling force, you look up to see that Namjoon has sat back down, his elbows resting on the desk while his chin rest on his hands. "Does he know about this, y/n?"

You sigh, "No."

"Are you going to tell him?" You hear him ask once more.

Closing your eyes and sniffing lightly, you inhale a steady breath as you answer him for the second time, "I don't know, Joon."

Namjoon looks at you, eyes full of worry and concern. You don't know?

You're his sister, and he loves you. He would do anything for you. If he could shower you with all the love that you lack from Jimin, he would. And he would do it in a heartbeat. But you're dying. You're leaving him. And he doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know what to do. So how could you not know? How could you sit here, in front of him, after keeping this shit for ten months to yourself, tell him that you just don't know?

He feels frustrated. Frustrated over the clearing fact that if you don't know the answer to that simple yes or no question, then how more could you know the answer to when he asks you to make the choice?

The choice - to love or to die.

A very careful, unprecedented surgery that has been performed by professionals only a few times, yet each one has been successful. This seems easy, yeah. A surgery to save your life? Of course you'll do it! But there's a reason as to why this has been done only by a certain small count.

To perform the surgery and live, the price is not the expense, but rather the loneliness that shall come as you spend the rest of your life void of emotions. The surgery doesn't get rid of love on its own, it gets rid of everything that comes with it - happiness, sadness, trust, pain, pretty much everything that one can possibly feel. The only emotion left is indifference, yet even indifference lacks its self-sustainability.

Who would want to live like that?

Who would want to live a life where you just simply exist and nothing more?

He knows that the day will come eventually - when he offers you the choice, the chance to save your life, and he knows it will come soon. But right now, he has chosen to prioritize being a brother over a doctor. Right now, the only thing in his mind is comforting you.

"Okay." Your brother nods, making your eyes widen slightly in shock.

Okay? No scolding? No 'how could you not know?!' older brother reprimands? But then you remember, oh yeah. You're dying. And who could possibly scold their dying little sister?

"I'm sorry Joonie-" You try to apologize once more before he cuts you off again.

"No, don't apologize, y/n. It's not like you could've possibly wanted for any of this to happen, yeah?" He offers you a smile, but you could easily see past its fabricated purpose, "But instead let me ask you this. And I need you, in our deceased parent's name, to be completely honest with me."

You only nod, completely submissive and understanding of his seriousness the moment that he mentioned your passed parents.

"What you just told me, when you first fell in love with him, that was two years ago." He starts, making you nod again in agreement.

"But you were diagnosed only ten months ago."

Your heart drops, and you don't nod again.

"The Hanahaki Disease is not something that gradually begins and comes to existence over the course of time. It is an illness that is triggered. It could be by a sudden forthcoming realization or proclamation of love, or by an event that triggers the heart to completely shut down in overwhelmth. Either way, basing on the timing of what you've said, you should've been diagnosed with the Hanahaki two years ago. But you weren't."

Namjoon eyes you questioningly, but not too much to the extent that you feel uncomfortable, only just enough to remind you of the importance of this conversation, "You were only diagnosed ten months ago, y/n. Why?"

You sit still, not wanting to move, as if your stone figure would somehow make him think that you're not real or that you're a simple figment of his messed up imagination.

"y/n, what happened ten months ago?"

He finishes his question and you swallow harshly only to realize that you're parched, your throat completely dry. You then tilt your head to steal a gaze at your brother, making you catch the way his eyes suddenly widened as if he just realized something of high importance. As if he had just realized the answer to his own question. And that didn't work with you.

Clearing your throat, you are about to answer him in order to cut off his thoughts until the door swings open and you feel your throat compact, - the coughs of a camellia flower slipping its way to visibility -because there he is,

the man of the hour.

"y/n." He noticeably breathes a sigh of relief before making his way to you, engulfing you in a giant embrace. "I was so worried about you. Why didn't you tell me you had the Hanahaki? How could you not let me know? How long have you had it? Who is it? I swear I'm going to murder whoever this piece of shit is that he dared ever making yo-"

"Jimin this is a professional space between a doctor and his patient." The two of you pull away almost exactly the same time as soon as Namjoon speaks up, Jimin's eyebrows furrowing, "Get out."

"What?" Jimin barely gather the voice to ask him as he is completely caught off guard of his friend's erupting vulgar attitude.

"I said-" Namjoon speaks before getting caught off again.

"No trust me, I heard what you said. But what?" Jimin repeats himself, "So you're telling me you're not prioritizing being y/n's brother right now? You're still caught up in this Doctor Kim bullshit? Like you're a real one?"

"Jimin-" You attempt to budge in, sensing that a certain trouble may suddenly come knocking.

"No, y/n. Listen hyung-"

"No, YOU listen. You small piece of shit." Your brother raises his voice, "-don't come barging in here like you own the place or like you have any authority over her. She is MY sister and this is a family matter. So it's best you stay out of it and keep in your lane."

At this point, Namjoon is in front of Jimin, a short distance separating the two of them, "And don't you ever dare speak to me in that tone again. I know you're my friend, but remember to treat me with respect. Not only am I your superior, but I'm also your hyung." He finishes with a serious voice, tone low, and message deep. His earnest eyes piercing through his friend's pained ones.

Jimin, mouth slightly agape being at loss for words and clearly confused at his close friend's unreasonable anger, storms out of the room.

But not before he drags you along with him.

Namjoon is quick to act as he tries to reach for you, but you turn back and look at him pleadingly, signaling him that it's okay and to not worry. And him being the understanding brother that he is, pulls back and holds himself steady.

You can handle him. You’re a Kim. You’re strong.

Strong enough to survive through this.

You’ll be okay.

And as he watches the two of you leave, the door closing shut right in front of him, only then does reality hit Namjoon as his legs tremble abruptly, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

Falling down the floor, he reaches onto the desk for assistance as he slides his back down the wooden wall, hands painfully fisted and finding its way to cover his mouth in order to muffle the choked-in sobs perilously escaping him. He proceeds to blink away the tears and bite harshly on his lips, trying to diminish the flourishing grievance in his heart.

His sister is dying, and he doesn't know what to do.

“Doctor Kim? The next patient is ready to see you.” A knocking nurse distracts him and calls out from behind the door, “-shall I send them in?”

Namjoon sniffs heavily and sighs deeply, rushingly grabbing his glasses and adjusting his emotionally wrecked state, “One moment!”

He lets out a soft, shaky breath and reminds himself once more that you’re a Kim.

You’re strong.

You can beat this.

It'll be alright.

You'll be okay.

"IM NOT OKAY JIMIN-SHI!" You voicely whine out to your friend who is currently dragging you along the halls of the hospital and out the technologically advanced glass doors, "What is wrong with you?!" You pull your arm aggressively from his grasp as you bend down, hands resting on your knees while you hastily try to catch your breath. The camellia flower stuck just along the chords of your throat making it very difficult.

Jimin stares at you worryingly, having forgotten of your illness, "O- oh no. y/n, I'm sorry I forgot I- are you okay? Should we go back?" He stutters in concern before you hold up one finger, signaling him to shut the hell up. "-sorry."

Looking at you like this, tired and exhausted from having to put up with all his bullshit, Jimin feels a sudden urge to reach out and embrace you tightly, almost forgetting of his previous encounter with your brother.

And so that's exactly what he does.

You are caught off guard the moment you feel a hand grab your shoulder by means of pulling you closer all the while another rests just at your crook of spine, and although this first makes you stumble in a not-so-very prettily way, your destination is found to be in your friend's embrace, his fragile yet protective arms wrapped around you securely.

Not letting this moment simply pass by, you let yourself melt in his arms as you find the comfort meant to be found in his comforting hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slightly stand on your tippy toes. Somehow, your simple action makes him pull you even closer, one hand creeping behind your neck all the while his other is completely wrapped around your waist although this time is tighter than before.

As the two of you stay like this in the middle of the sliding glass doors of the hospital, crowds of unfamiliar voices passing by you and ambulances ringing endlessly against your ear, you let yourself submerge within the passion of your heart.

Amidst the chaos and cries of your nearingly counted days, you find consolation in the arms of the same man that has put you in front of death's door, and quite frankly, you wouldn't really want it any other way. You'll take what is given by the heavens above when it comes to Jimin, because well- you love him.

Unfortunately, that quick and simple thought is enough to make you lose control of your reminded disease.

"y-y/n what's- are you okay?" Jimin pulls away from you abruptly as you break into coughing fits, pastel pink camellia blossoms escaping your trembling lips.

The sight has caught the attention of many civilians, but both you and Jimin remain to be indifferent about them as you or more or less are occupied with your illness all the while Jimin specifically aims his attention on you alone.

"Alright that's it, screw your brother alright?" Jimin exclaims a bit louder than what you're comfortable with as this obviously did not benefit with the proceedingly growing public focus on the two of you, "-we're going back, y/n, it's my fault for bringing you outside so suddenly-"

"No chim, please-" You roughly attempt to speak out, your throat painfully extracting the feeling of abrasiveness, "Please just- let's just go."

"y/n.."

“Please chim,” you cut him off for what seemed to be the fiftieth time, coughing, “-please. I don’t want to be here any longer.”

Hesistant yet concerned, Jimin nods slowly as he assists your side, his hands finding its home around your waist and lower back while you both take short and careful strides. You destination is still unknown, but you didn’t mind. A journey a day with someone you love has never turned out for the worse.

At least that's what you think.

"Really?" You roll your eyes as you notice the familiar lane that Jimin's car just entered, "I asked you to get me out of the hospital area, I didn't ask for a sleepover, Jimin." You jokingly accuse him, but you can't help the smile that makes its way on your puffed-up face as you notice him smoothly take a side-glance at you with a knowing smirk.

"Well I thought that with all that bad hospital air, you might've wanted to breathe in a familiar scent," Jimin responds as the car comes to a stop.

You turn slightly to open the door and step out before you here a meek, "Jankkanman!" and perceive a 5'9 in height blondie come running around the bonnet in order to open the car door for you as a gentleman would. It is such a sweet and casual pantomime, yet an ill-patient diagnosed with an illness of the heart can never bring you any wins. Consequently, his actions only causes your throat to feel strained and compacted for the endless time.

God, how much did you love this man that such a simple gesture makes you want to cough out countless of fully bloomed flowers?

You thank the heavens above for your past endless experiences that allowed you to now be better in terms of hiding your pain as you attempt to smile genuinely, mumbling a small "thank you" in the process before making your way inside his home.

"So," Jimin starts as the two of you plop down his couch, his eyes seeking for yours as he tilts his head ever so lightly, "what should we do today... now that you're out of that hell hole?"

"Chim!" You scold him lightly, "my brother and your best friend just happens to be working in that hell hole, just in case you forgot, and- hey! You work there too, you ass." You accusingly point at him all the while hitting his arm playfully.

Jimin is was a nurse in that hospital. Your brother is a doctor.

He laughs and smiles widely, "Nope. I don't work there anymore, remember? But I did for a while, which is why I can most definitely testify that that place is indeed, a hell hole. And by the way, I'm kind of offended that you pretty much forgot my lost profession just then, y/n, like what the fuck?" He jokes endingly.

Your eyes soften slightly as he mentions his lack of job, yet you still stubbornly choose to ignore his last remark. "Well I sure hope that's not the case since I'll be most likely spending my last days there."

Oops.

The silence that ensues goes inevitably noticed by the two of you the moment those words escaped past your lips, but you paid no mind. That was the reason that you asked him to take you away anyways. You weren't hoping for some cliche romantic bullshit where the two of you simply elope and forget your real worries in your life, no. Instead you were here with the main purpose of facing it.

Besides, even if you did want to leave with him, you couldn't. Remember?

Jimin is the first to break the excessive blockade, "Don't say that y/n."

You sigh, "But it's true, chim."

"I don't give a shit if it's true or not."

"Chim.." You are slightly startled with his sudden outburst, caught off guard in the way his voice slightly raised as his attention and body language are now completely directed at you, "Wha- why are you getting mad?"

Jimin scoffs, almost irritated at your oblivious question, "Why? Because you're talking of dying like it's not a big deal, y/n!" His voice getting louder and louder by every word he spits out, "God, you know you can be so fucking insensitive sometimes. What, did you already forget the shit I suffered when I lost someone? Did you already forget all the fucking shit I suffered when death took her from me?"

At the mention of her, you pause. Speechless. Guilty. Hurt.

Of course you remember. How could you not? You remember the darkest of days as like it was just yesterday.

You remember getting that call in the middle of the night from the contact name of your brother as you slightly answered it in an irritated voice, "Joon I swear to God if you're asking me to drive you to work in the middle of the fucking night I will personally drag your ass right now to get a driver's liscenc-"

"y/n?"

You remember immediately stopping as you recognize the voice that most certainly did not belong to your brother, "Chim?"

"y- y/n."

You remember the outbreak of his sobs as you call out to him, his sniffles and cries becoming more and more prominent as you stumble on your feet, struggling with keeping your phone against and in between your ear and your shoulder as you hurryingly take off to grab a jacket and your keys, "Chim what's wrong, where the hell are you? W- where's Joon?"

You remember the way your heart dropped as your worst fear came to mind, the thought of losing your brother itself being enough to make you wobble in your feet, your heart clenching. He had your brother's phone, and he was crying.

"N-no, he- he's fine, y/n. It's not him, hyung's... hyung's fine."

You remember the way he struggled to find the right words; the way he sniffled and stuttered through forming such a simple sentence all the while you on the other side of the line breathe out a sigh of relief at the information of your brother's wellness, yet feeling slightly guilty that your emotions are in contrast with your friend's.

"It's Sung."

You remember Jimin's worst.

"It's Sung, y/n. Sh- she got in an accident on the way here to visit me during my off hours and- fuck! Some fucking demon pulled a hit and run on her. She was walking, y/n. She walked an hour here and got ran over by someone and.. they're doing an operation on her- hyung's assisting and he just- it's bad. It was really bad and she was bleeding all fucking over and- hyung, he- he left his phone and I didn't know what to do so I just called you- I didn't, they pushed me out of the room, y/n. I need you here. Please, please. Please come here because I'm losing my fucking mind and I need you here."

You remember driving to the hospital as careful as you can with the fear of the possibility of an accident occurring still in the midst of the back of your mind.

You remember reaching the doors of the emergency room and being greeted with a pair of reddened and exhausted eyes that looked up the moment you walked in, "Jin."

He stands up to greet you politely but you stop him, obviously seeing that his reaction upon seeing you is no more than a forced delight, "Let's not do this under these circumstances, okay? You're allowed to feel unwelcoming. It's okay, Jin."

He does no more than mumble a small 'thank you' before going back to his previous spot with you trudging along beside him.

You remember feeling the sorrow of the man beside you as you watch him lean his head back against the wall, fragile streaks of tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. You couldn't imagine his pain, the pain of such a situation where your sister's life is at stake. You wanted to comfort him, to softly rub his back and whisper sweet encouragements against his ear, little white lies that his sister is guaranteed to make it without a doubt. But you couldn't. You weren't here for him, regardless of your history. Regardless of the way you left him the morning after your supposed mistake.

"Uhm, have you seen Jimin?"

You remember the way his void eyes find yours and the way his lips lightly upturn as he gives you a forced smirk, trying to keep up with his image of being Kim Seokjin, Kim Sungkyung's handsome and cocky older brother, "And here I was thinking fate brought you here to me, y/n." He trails off, "-considering how you fucked me then dipped."

You gasp slightly and playfully hit his arm at the blunt mention of your regretted one night stand as you give him a small yet genuine smile, partly glad yet at the same time worried that he can make such remarks during a situation like this.

It was strange really, how everything in your life seemed to be connected. How on the day you felt your heart tore apart the time Jimin first mentioned his planned proposal, you went out and accidentally slept with the soon-to-be-bride's older brother.

Letting out a small sigh, Jin nods his head in the direction of a different waiting room, "He left when I came. Guess he was embarrassed of how fucked up he was but hey- I'm not doing any fucking better am I?" He tells you, subtly pointing at the very visible streaks of tears still falling down his now puffy face.

You get on your feet and turn to leave but not before giving one last glance at the man next to you, a hand softly reaching to rub his shoulder, "I'm so sorry, Jin. I wish I could stay, but-"

"It's okay, y/n. Go." Jin encourages you with a small yet noticeably forced smile, "He needs you."

And so you do, bidding him a soft goodbye before taking off, your eyes beginning to water out of the guilt of leaving a friend in that state.

You then remember being suffocated. Suffocated from the embrace that greeted you the moment Jimin entered your peripheral vision. You remember landing on your behind with a harsh thud from the struggle of Jimin's weight as he continues to seek your embrace for means of comfort, the two of you falling down the floor. You remember getting drenched from Jimin's tears as you cradle him as would a wailing child, rocking him back and forth all the while softly rubbing his back, whispering every bit of amenity that could make him feel better.

You remember feeling your heart physically ache as you fail to notice the tears that have fallen down your own eyes, blurring your sight.

To see Jimin in this state, so broken and hurt and scared, it tore you apart. You wanted him happy. You wanted him smiling. You wanted him. You loved him. And God forbid that you're admitting this in your own mind while his fiance is battling for her own life, but fuck.

You wanted nothing more than to lay down your own life for Sung so that she could continue in existence for him.

If you could, you would take here place.

You would die for her, for him.

You remember pushing back your thoughts as you put focusing on Jimin your first priority. You remember keeping him in a neverending tight embrace as he neverendingly sobs against your chest, his lips leaving prayers you could barely yet still tried to understand;

please don't let her die

don't take her away from me

i love her too much

i still have to marry her.

You then remember hearing a wail of anguish, putting a pause to both Jimin's silent pleas and your eavesdropping as the both of your heads turn to pinpoint from whom the noise came from.

You remember the way Jimin stilled.

"No."

You remember his whisper of such a small, two-lettered word, yet somehow it caused your heart to crumble.

"No no no no-"

You remember having to tackle Jimin slightly as he causes a mess of himself, punching the seats and harshly tugging on his hair all the while screaming wails of pain and suffering, "Jimin please-"

"No- get the fuck off of me! Sung?!"

You remember how Jimin lost sight of reality as he pushes you off of him, your body making in contact with the cold tiled ground.

"SUNG? SUNG! LET ME INSIDE-"

You remember seeing nurses and other staff pull the man you love back as he causes a scene, starting to become physical and violent with the people surrounding him, "PLEASE! Please- I just- I NEED TO SEE HER! SHES MY FIANCE-"

You remember seeing a man dressed in blue make his way near Jimin, a needle in his hand.

"H-hey, no!" You remember trying to catch up to the nurse, attempting to prevent them from giving whatever the shot was to Jimin, "Stop! Please-"

"y/n. D-don't."

You remember feeling a hand on your shoulder which makes you turn around instantly, only to find the culprit behind the anguished scream just moments prior Jimin's outburst.

"Jin." You start, "-they're going to sedate him. That- that's not okay."

"They have to, y/n." Another voice calls out from behind Jin, "I know how it seems and I don't like it either, b-but he's becoming violent. They have to sedate him."

"Joon." You whisper softly.

What a sick and twisted game that life is playing on you, that your brother, Jimin's best friend, Jimin's best man at the wedding being planned, is the one to give news of the bride's passing.

"Sung, is she really.." You trail off, not having the heart to finish your sentence.

It seems neither does he, as he responds with nothing but a simple avoidance of eye contact.

"HYUNG!"

You remember Jimin's faint and tired yet still firm voice as he calls out your brother, "Hyung, you saved her didn't you? You- you were part of the surgery. You saved her didn't you? Didn't you!?" Jimin is weak as he trails off his words as the effect of the syringe takes its course, but that doesn't stop him from reaching out to the three of you, "H-hyung. Tell me you saved her. P-please tell me you saved h-her."

Namjoon doesn't stop the tear that rolls down his hardened face as he only shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Jimin. We did our best. We really, really did. I'm so sorry-"

You remember the way Namjoon's voice trails off your hearing as your throat suddenly feels contracted. You remember the itching pain just within your chest as you find the struggle to breath, your hand clutching it harshly. You remember stumbling back just a little bit as you feel lightheaded, thinking that these were only from the overwhelming happenings in that moment.

But then you cough.

And you cough

and you cough

and you cough.

But no one notices you.

Not even yourself.

Your attention remains still at Jimin, who has now dropped completely to the floor, tears still continuously spilling out of his drowsy eyes. Short breaths are released from his trembling lips as he mumbles words that none of you can understand. He then begins to seemingly reach out for something, someone.

"P-please," He whispers.

And as you bend down almost immediately to attend to his calls, you cough.

And you cough

and you cough.

And still no one notices.

No one except him.

You cough as your eyes find his, barely open yet staring right at you from the lows of the floor.

You remember having to excuse yourself and run to the nearest restroom you can find, legs trembling and stumbling on your way there as you push against the winds of the almost empty halls, still coughing with every step you take. And just as you reach the doors of the restroom, you turn back slightly, just enough to catch Jimin's last sight while his body is being carried away to where you guess is a vacant patient's room, all this before his eyes ultimately close.

Eyes you found lastly staring at you.

You remember finally shutting the door and locking it, thanking God silently that you're in a family restroom hence there is no one else inside. You cough desperately, your throat beginning to feel exclusively sore and your lungs beginning to tighten from all the air being released as you cough and cough and cough again.

You reach out to the sink, gripping tightly onto the white metals as you cough and cough and cough again.

You then brushingly turn to the toilet, your eyes watering and lips numbing as you cough and you cough and you cough once more.

You practically clean the whole restroom, as disgusting as that sounds, from all the moving you made as you coughed anywhere and everywhere. You felt awful for the next person to come inside, now that your bacterium were practically in its every corner, side, and space. You cough again, this time harder, the worst one out of the previous.

You remember sensing a certain feeling rise up, something soft yet itchy, something light yet heavy.

And so you cough, and you cough, and you cough, and you cough,

and you bleed.

And amongst the red is a pink.

A single, individual pink petal from what you would soon find out is a camellia flower - the flower that is soon to be the latter symbolization of death chasing you, growing closer, inching nearer, just about to knock on your door.

So of course you remember Jimin's distraught. Of course you remember Sung's - his fiance's death.

Because her death was too, the ultimate beginning of yours.

taglist for part 2?