#ooh i love how this looks...i need to read the whole thing

[jo-speaks]

good graces ft. quinn hughes

in which…

quinn hughes realizes you'll be okay, with or without him.

warnings: MDNI. brief smut (again, it's like a paragraph), mature language, mentions of cheating, and i think that's all.

track three in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series!

When I love you, I'm sweet like an angel

Drawin' hearts 'round our names

And dreamin' of writing vows, rockin' cradles

“What’re you doing?” Quinn asked, wrapping his arms behind you as you shut the oven door, leaving the sweet treat you made to bake.

You took off your oven mitt before sighing and leaning back into his hold. “Baking cookies. You said you wanted some this morning, right?

He let out a soft laugh, “Yeah. How did you hear that though?”

“It’s not like you’re quiet when you’re on the phone with Conor.”

Quinn rolled his eyes playfully, dismissing your comment about how comfortable he was when talking to his teammate. He set one of his hands to lean back against the kitchen island where he felt a piece of paper under his palm. He furrowed his eyebrows, creasing the sheet slightly to pick it up. 

After a quick examination, he realized it was the recipe you had written down for the cookies. In the top corner of it, he saw his initials next to yours, enclosed in a heart. Quinn felt a warm feeling in his chest knowing you had done that, not caring if he saw it or not.

He held the paper in front of your face, which you had buried in the crease of his right elbow. “What’s this?”

You traced your eyes over the paper, “The recipe for the cookies? Don’t tell me you can’t read all of a sudden.” He gave you a thin-lipped look before tapping his finger over the childish drawing causing your eyebrows to lift in realization. “Oh, that. Got bored, thought it was cute. Something we could show the kids.”

Now it was his eyebrows that rose, “Kids? Like our kids?”

“Yeah, two of them. One of each. We can have them after our billion-dollar wedding.” You stated that like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Quinn knew you weren’t entirely serious. The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and he knew you wanted him to focus on his hockey career while you focused on your career. You both agreed you didn’t want to rush into anything until you were settled. And since Vancouver had been his home for 6 years and yours for 5 of those when you decided to move in with him, maybe it was time to start putting down those roots together.

Don't mistake my nice for naive

“Y/N, please. You’re being ridiculous. You were the one who told me to come in the first place!” Quinn called out to you as you walked away from him.

You stopped and turned back to face him, “Because I thought you’d have fun celebrating with your team here! Not flirt with the bartender the whole night!”

He rolled his eyes, setting you off even more. “I wasn’t flirting with her! I was getting Brock his drink!”

“Whatever, Quinn. I’m going home.” You sighed, not wanting to continue arguing with him in front of a bunch of people.

“I wasn’t flirting.” He mumbled, defeated.

You almost felt bad for reacting the way you did, but you knew him. The half smile and constant nodding all while keeping his eyes on her lips as they moved. 

You weren’t stupid.

I don't waste a second, I know lots of guys

You do somethin' suspect, this cute ass bye-bye

Like, ooh

Baby, you say you really like it being mine?

So let me give you some advice

After the whole bar argument, you decided to repay the favour a few days later when you had gone out to that same bar with your girlfriends. The same night you knew the Canucks would be celebrating their victory there. You watched the door attentively before a tap on your shoulder caught your attention.

“Y/N, this is Josh. He thought you were cute!” Was the only thing your friend said before walking away. The stumbling in her steps was the only thing you needed to explain the situation. 

Josh rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he placed his drink down on the bar and took the seat next to you. He cleared his throat, “Hey. Pretty interesting friend you have there.”

You snorted, “Tell me about it. You should see her sober, she’s still the same way.”

He laughed, “So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting alone?”

Before you could answer, you heard the bar erupt in whistles and clapping. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know who had walked in. Josh glanced over your shoulder, getting a view of the team himself. His focus came back to you when you tilted your head to interrupt his view. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. But to answer your question, I’m just here because I’m pissed at my boyfriend.”

You noticed his face drop before returning to the way it was before, “No way. I’m here because I’m pissed at my girlfriend!”

Your eyes widened at his confession, letting out a small chuckle. “Yikes, you’re an asshole.”

“Yeah?” He propped his arm on the bar, “How are you not?”

“Well for starters, I’m not approaching anyone. Second, my boyfriend just got here, so he knows where I am. And it doesn’t take a genius to know that your girlfriend has no idea where you are.” You answered, seeing the team take a seat at the tables next to where you were sitting.

As Josh sat in front of you, stunned at your words, you caught your boyfriend's eyes. He took a double take, not realizing it was you the first time. You looked away, bringing your attention back to the man in front of you as Quinn kept his on you.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Josh asked.

You smirked slightly, “Quinn Hughes.

Josh’s eyes widened, “Bullshit.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer so you could talk in his ear and look over it to lock eyes with Quinn. “Don’t believe me? You’ll see who walks over to you when I leave.”

You backed up and got off your stool, heading to the bathroom as you kept eye contact with your boyfriend as you passed him. After you did, you heard him get up, his footsteps going the opposite way from where you were heading.

~

“What the fuck was that,” Quinn grumbled as he got into his car.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Quinn scoffed, “This is fucking gold, Y/N. You were all over my ass for doing the same shit on Tuesday, but when you do it’s all good.”

“Yeah, no. See, the difference between what I did tonight and what you did earlier this week is that I actually wasn’t flirting, I just wanted you to see what it was like to feel how I did when I saw you actually flirting with someone else.” You retorted, knowing how ridiculous the words coming out of your mouth sounded to him.

Yet on some level, Quinn knew you were right. He sighed before reaching over the center console to take hold of your hand. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sober, but I still knew what I was doing. I don’t want to lose you over this, so please tell me what I can do to make it up to you.” He whispered.

You turned to look at him, “You like being my boyfriend?”

He nodded.

“Then don’t lie to me.”

Boy, it's not that complicated

You should stay in my good graces

Or I'll switch it up like that so fast

'Cause no one's more amazin'

At turnin' lovin' into hatred x2

I won't give a fuck about you x3

That was cool

I won't give a fuck about you (Oh) x3

Yeah

“She’s the last person I’d want to piss off,” Jack told his brother over the phone as Quinn finished up telling him the whole bar fiasco the two of you had gone through a month ago. 

“Tell me about it. I’m not just saying this because she’s my girlfriend, but she’s literally always right. It’s getting scary.” Quinn confessed, pulling his car into the parking garage of the apartment complex.

Jack sighed, “Well, shit. Good luck with that, bro. Lukey’s calling you later, I gotta go.” 

Quinn said goodbye to his brother, hanging up the phone as he stepped out of his car, grabbing the bouquet of flowers he had gotten you for no reason. After the whole situation, he knew he couldn’t only make it up with verbal apologies. So he went old-school, settling for getting you flowers whenever he felt like they were needed. 

He stepped into the elevator, rocking back and forth on his heels as he reached your floor, walking out the second the doors opened. 

As he unlocked the front door of your shared apartment, he could hear you talking in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. I didn’t want to forgive him, but he’s making up for it.” You said to whoever you were talking to over the phone. 

Quinn stepped in quietly, your back still turned and your AirPods in your ears as you cooked dinner for the two of you. Still unbeknownst to you, Quinn walked to the hallway across from the kitchen, wanting to hear your conversation. 

Was it wrong to eavesdrop on you? Yes. Did Quinn know this? Also yes. Did he care? Not really. 

You let out a sigh, “Listen. He knows better than to do that to me. He also knows that I’m the last person he wants to fuck with because I can switch up incredibly fast. If he wants to cheat on me, he can go right ahead. But he knows damn well I’ll be out replacing him that same night.”

His face dropped. He knew that you were telling the truth, which is what scared him straight. 

“I don’t give a fuck if he wants to go out with Bella Hadid. If he does that without breaking up with me, I’m going straight to his mother and maybe even social media if I’m feeling petty enough.” You laughed, but there was nothing you were joking about. 

By now, Quinn wanted to ignore any woman that came his way.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love him so much. So much to the point where I would get down on my knee and propose to him. But, if so much as lies to me about anyone or anything, he’s gonna need a good lawyer.”

I'll tell the world you finish your chores prematurely

Quinn lined himself up in between your legs, pushing into you completely in one swift movement. You let out a breathy moan as your nails dug into his biceps. He didn’t move, letting not only you but himself adjust to the feeling. 

“Fuck, Q. You feel so good.” You mumbled, your brain foggy from the feeling of him being buried inside of you.

He mumbled something you didn’t quite understand before pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back into you completely. He did this a few more times before letting out a guttural groan, spilling into you.

This caught you completely off guard. Quinn had never finished this quickly before nor had he cum before you did. When he came to, he realized what had happened.

“Shit.” He mumbled, too embarrassed to move or even look you in the eyes.

You cleared your throat, pressing a soft kiss to kiss lips. “It’s fine, babe.” You pushed his body back, pushing him out of you. “I can just use my hand.”

He shook his head, finding his voice once again. “No, let me do it. I don’t- I don’t know what happened.”

Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on

With your favorite athlete

Shoot his shot every night

Want you every second, don't need other guys

You were scrolling on your phone, swiping up on all the notifications you were getting from Instagram, seeing as you had just posted. 

Quinn was featured in a few of the pictures, drawing the attention of his friends and fans to your account. Your head was propped up on Quinn’s lap as you lay on the couch as he played his video game on the living room TV. 

One notification caught your eye as you furrowed your eyebrows seeing the DM request that had come through. 

‘rjosi90 wants to send you a message.’

“Hey babe? Who’s this?” You asked, turning your phone around to show him the account.

He paused his game, looking down to look. “You don’t know who Roman Josi is? He was that guy you met at the awards ceremony, remember?”

“Oh! The one you never shut up about!” You teased as soon as you remembered the name.

Quinn rolled his eyes, nodding at your words before resuming his game but keeping his attention on your conversation. “What did he send you?”

You opened the message, your eyes widening as you internally debated on telling him the truth, not knowing how he would react. But, you knew you wouldn’t want him lying to you if he got the same message from another woman, so you decided to be honest.

“He said he thinks I’m pretty and that you’re a lucky guy.” You read, eyes quickly flashing back to Quinn.

His cheeks were red and his eyebrows were knitted together. You looked at his hands, which were now gripping his controller so tight that his knuckles were going white. “Are you gonna respond?”

Hesitantly, you shook your head, “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

Quinn had never been an insecure person, but he wasn’t always confident. And your delayed reaction probably didn’t help. You let out a breath before grabbing the controller out of his grip and setting it to the side. 

You sat up, swinging your legs on either side of his lap and taking his face in between your hands. “Hey. I want you. Only you.”

You pressed a kiss on his lips which he barely returned out of his own frustration. Pulling back, you started to litter kisses all over his face in an attempt to cheer him up. Trailing from his lips to his cheeks, then to his jaw, and stopping on his neck. You sucked on a sweet spot that caused his hands to come up and settle on your hips. 

“I don’t want anyone but you, Quinn.”

You do somethin' sus, kiss my cute ass bye

As you stepped into his room, he quickly shut off his phone and turned it face down. You furrowed your eyebrows as you stood in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” You questioned.

He shook his head rapidly, clearing his throat as he rubbed his hands together before walking over to you. “Just caught me off guard.”

You scanned his face. His cheeks were flushed and his face was sweaty. Not wanting the answer you thought it was, you gave him a look before speaking again. “Was just gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me. But if you’re… busy, I can just watch it by myself.” 

Quinn cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah. Let me just do something really quick and I’ll be right out.”

You simply shook your head, walking out of his room and heading back to your room and laying down on your bed with your laptop in front of you as you curled up in a blanket waiting for your boyfriend.

Even though the two rooms were separated by a small hallway, the walls were still relatively thin. You heard his door open and close but his feet remained still. You could hear the noise of his phone keyboard in front of your door, typing one last thing out before he walked into your room.

“So what movie are we watching, pretty girl?” He asked, setting his phone on your bedside table.

You eyed his phone before looking at him, “Everything okay?” 

He gave you a confused look, “Yeah, why?”

“Sounded like you were typing something important.” You shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of what could be nothing.

But, his wide eyes told you everything you needed to know. You sat up, raising your eyebrows in a way that said “Tell me what’s going on.”

Quinn shifted on his feet. “My ex texted me. She was saying she wanted to meet me for dinner and…” He cut himself off.

“And what?” You pressed.

“She wants to try again.”

You scoffed, “Okay. What did you say?”

He took a breath before answering, “I told her about us and that I’ll pass on the dinner because I’m very happy with you.” The way his words came out, you didn’t fully believe him. Yet at the same time, his face and body language told you he was telling the truth. You could tell he was nervous telling you, but you knew he wasn’t lying.

You nodded your head, “Okay.”

“Okay? What does that mean? I can show you the texts if you want!” He rambled.

Pulling him down onto the bed with you, you wrapped the blanket around him as well before setting the laptop in a way where you could both see it while lying down.

“I trust you, Q. If you say that’s what you told her, I believe you.” You whispered.

Boy, it's not that complicated

You should stay in my good graces

Or I'll switch it up like that so fast

'Cause no one's more amazin'

At turnin' lovin' into hatred x2

I won't give a fuck about you x3

Oh, no

I won't give a fuck about you (Oh) x3 

Oh

No, I won't

I won't give a fuck about you, no, I won't

(I won't, I won't, I won't) x2

Quinn sat in the parking lot of Roger’s Arena. You had driven home early, wanting to beat the traffic seeing as the score by the middle of the third period was 0-4. 

The loss of the game and your going home early left Quinn thinking. 

You didn’t need him. 

Sure, you loved him and you loved living with him and the company and affection he gave you, but at the end of the day, you were completely fine being alone. 

The realization had Quinn wiping a few stray tears from his cheeks as he started up the engine of his car. He drove back in silence, hoping you’d be showering and in bed by the time he got home. 

As he focused on the scenery around him in the late hours of the night, that feeling of sadness fizzled into a feeling of relief. If for whatever reason Quinn left you, you would be okay. And now that he understood that, he became even more determined not to lose you.

Because regardless, Quinn Hughes didn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t his.

[tsxkkis]

# kageyama tobio - private

a/n: not proud of this, because i didn't truly know how to end it. also i've been searching for a job lately and it's so damn hard to find one help T-T i still gotta try though because i want money for figurines and mangas :33

summary: your relationship with kageyama was a secret from the public, but it can't be private forever.

warnings: none really

tobio kageyama never answers his phone while training.

his mind was always set on one thing - volleyball. it's like everything else was secondary to his beloved sport, to his safe space, which he adored and treasured dearly. there was only one thing he loved just as much; but that was kept a secret from the world.

along with being a professional athlete came the fame, and with the fame came lack of privacy, something that kageyama seemed to hate from the very beginning of joining schweiden adlers. he vowed to himself that his private life will never become a topic of public discussion, that he'll control every information that comes out to the media as much as he possibly can.

'they're writing about you.' ushijima's voice echoed through their changing room as he handed the black-haired boy his phone, an internet article opened up on one of the most popular gossip pages. upon seeing the title and content of the article, the look on his face instantly changed - he looked irritated, almost insulted. kageyama's nose scrunched in dissatisfaction as if he's just seen another picture of hinata and oikawa hanging out in brazil.

'ooh, let me see!' hoshiumi snached the phone away, curious eyes following the text on the screen, a small gasp leaving his parted lips every now and then. kageyama was quick to get the phone back with an annoyed huff, suddenly putting his shoes on much quicker than before.

the white-haired man looked like he was about to say something, but he was quickly cut off before he could even let a word out.

'don't even mention it.'

'you have a GIRLFRIEND?!'

the changing room fell silent, the only two men left there besides kageyama standing still, awaiting an answer. but as they noticed the tips of tobio's ears turning into a color similar to a rose and his gaze avoiding their glares, they realized they didn't need one.

they weren't exactly shocked by their discovery - tobio was always a private person, and he didn't really talk about his life much, much preffering conversations about volleyball instead of one's that circled around him.

a notification popped up on his phone, disrupting the silence between the three men.

it was you.

'i'm waiting in front of the changing room like i told you yesterday :33'

'hurry up!'

tobio realized he completely forgot about his promise to you, and as his cheeks flushed pink, he suddenly realized that maybe the whole situation wasn't so bad after all.

'you want to meet my teammates?'

kageyama's stood in your shared room's doorframe, a curious look on his face. 'why the hell would you want to meet these idiots?'

'i want to get to know the people my boyfriend hangs out with.' you mumbled, putting down the book you were currently reading. 'you know, i understand that you want to protect your peace from the outside world, but i don't think you have to hide your entire life from your work friends. they seem trustworthy, for all i know.'

the black-haired man plopped onto the bed right next to you, choosing your arm as a perfect pillow for himself. the room fell silent for a few minutes, but you didn't pressure tobio to answer you right away - from the look on his face you knew he was thinking, rather intensely at that, so there was no point in disrupting his trail of thoughts.

'how am i supposed to break it to them, though?' he asked, a genuinely confused look on his face. 'hey, i've been in a relationship for the last four years and never told you, sorry.'

a giggle left your mouth, your hand softly brushing through your boyfriend's hair, twirling the short strands around your fingers.

'i can just come to meet you up after practice and introduce myself. it'll be less awkward for you that way.'

kageyama hummed in response, as if he was deciding on whether he should go with your idea or not. he knew that your relationship being uncovered was inevitable - that sooner or later, they would find out anyways. so maybe your idea wasn't so bad.

'tommorow?' he mumbled, head leaning into your soft hands, almost as if he was pleading you to play with his hair just a tad bit longer.

'fine by me.'

you stood in one place, patiently awaiting your boyfriend as you scrolled through your phone, invested in a particularly hard game of sudoku. as you heard the door crack open, your eyes quickly shot up, hoping to be met with your boyfriend's tall figure. instead, a way shorter, white-haired man showed up right in front of you, bright eyes scanning your figure from head to toe.

'i know you! you used to be karasuno's manage-'

'give her some space, hoshiumi.' a tall man appeared from behind him, one that you recognized to be ushijima almost immediately. you remembered both of the men from your times in high school, and yet you never truly had a chance to meet them properly - not until now, that is.

as you greeted tobio, who emerged from the changing room shortly after, you weren't even surprised that he opted for a hug instead of a kiss - although an adult already, kageyama was still awkward with any public displays of affection. he preferred to keep those special moments to himself.

'have you seen the article?' he hummed quietly, his eyes glued to your face smiling at your confused look.

'what article?'

although a little dumbfounded by your lack of knowledge of it, kageyama quickly pulled out his phone and handed it to you, the article opened up on the screen.

'oh.' your face went blank as you eyed the words in front of you, suddenly connecting the dots. 'so that's why there's so many reporters and paparazzi in front of the building.

reporters? paparazzi?

'shit.' he mumbled under his breath. 'how many of them?'

'around ten, maybe eleven.' kageyama's smile dropped almost immediately upon hearing the number. you carefully scanned his face, hand going up to gently ruffle his hair. 'we can wait for them to leave if you don't want them to see us. i don't mind.'

he thought for a hot minute, rethinking every possible scenario that could happen, every option available. was he truly ready for his private life to become so... public?

kageyama wasn't exactly sure. you've been together for so long that he knew this relationship would last through anything and everything, but at the same time, he didn't want things to change. he hated changes - they never truly meant anything good, and he would always avoid them as much as possible.

but this change was inevitable.

'it's alright.' he said, breaking the moment of silence. 'it would've happened sooner or later. might as well have this behind us, right?'

'are you sure?' you asked quietly, squeezing his hand as you saw kageyama already heading towards the door. his head quickly turned to face you, giving you a small nod before his hand landed on the handle.

'not entirely.' he admitted, eyes darting away from your gaze. 'but i can do it as long as it's with you.'

'hey, don't forget about us!' hoshiumi's stated, your boyfriend shooting him a deathly glare for interrupting the moment between you two. 'maybe we should all grab some dinner, what do you say? i'm sure you're all hungry.'

'come to think of it,' ushijima barged into the conversation, his usual monotone tone. 'i know a restaurant where the paparazzi won't bother us.'

you exchanged looks with tobio, a barely noticeable smile on your face being enough for him to know that you agree.

'let's do it.' the black-haired man said, solidifying the idea once and for all.

'what if they won't leave us alone?' he could see that your anxious side took over, suddenly stressed out about going outside. kageyama gave you a reassuring look, smiling softly.

'then they'll know how amazing my girlfriend is.'

'oooh, how corny-' hoshiumi mumbled, stopping when he saw kageyama's annoyed glare. 'alright, lovebirds, i'll be quiet.'

'you'd better.' you giggled at your boyfriend's words, his hand once again on the handle. he looked your way, softly smiling down at you. 'ready?'

you looked up, eyes meeting his.

'with you by my side? always.'

taglist: @moonswolfie

[avis-writeshq]

06 — untouchable

summary: “come on, come on, say that we’ll be together/”i’m caught up in you.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn,  warnings: rated 16+ for two mentions of nakedness, short blood mention, brief mention of dead things, mostly canon compliant (s4 e23 ‘amplification’), wc: 4.3k a/n: thank you again to the lovely @astrophileous for beta-reading <3 good luck on your thesis babes MWAH SERIES MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

38 Hours Before the Phone Call – Monday, 8:42AM, BAU Office

Spencer arrives at the office with a stupidly giddy smile on his face. His cheeks are flushed as he grips a hot takeaway cup of coffee in his hands. He taps the cup idly with his fingers, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he steps out of the elevator unable to shake the smile off his face. It’s ridiculous and insane and borderline delusional but he knows it’s far from that. After all, he has a perfectly good reason as to why he is in such high spirits and that reason is you. After years of pining and psyching himself up (only to psych himself out) he managed to actually ask you out on a date. And, he reminds himself with a silly smile, he actually kissed you. And it wasn’t one of those platonic kisses, no, this was an actual kiss to the lips and he couldn’t be happier. 

He thinks back to the previous night, visualising the way your cheeks grew warm and the way your lips felt against his. His own cheeks flush at the thoughts and he remembers committing that version of you to memory. How on earth are you so beautiful? Even while sleep deprived with dark bags under your eyes or unruly hair, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek comments in a teasing sing-songy voice as Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, trying to appear nonchalant. “Ooh, I know that look.”

Spencer chokes a little, wiping his mouth with a tissue in his bag. “What look?”

“Someone got lucky last night,” Derek responds with a grin. “It must be the hair. I heard that long hair gets all the ladies nowadays.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spencer is quick to deny, walking through the big glass doors of the office. 

“Who got lucky last night?” Emily asks, poking her head out of her little stall. Her eyes flit to Spencer and she grins. “Oh… I see how it is.”

“Nothing happened last night,” Spencer says adamantly, swiping a hand over his face. “It isn’t like that. Whatever we have is good. It doesn’t need to be–” He coughs quietly as blood rushes to his ears– “to be sexual. I like her. More than physically.”

Emily coos at his confession, twisting around her desk to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a gentleman, Reid.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says through a laugh, swatting Emily’s hands away. “Being a gentleman. Some women prefer it over the whole macho act.”

“Hey, I am plenty gentleman,” Derek says swiftly, holding a finger out. “And chicks dig the macho thing.”

*** 

14 Hours Before the Phone Call – Tuesday, 7:09AM, BAU Office

It was supposed to be a normal morning. It was supposed to be an average Tuesday with your average, run-of-the-mill serial killer with daddy issues but instead, JJ called the entire team in the early hours of the morning, saying to get to the BAU as quickly as possible. 

“Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go-bag,” Spencer says as they enter the office. 

In moments they were met with a complete arsenal of military personnel, bustling around their desks and storming throughout the office. Others were answering and sending phone calls, demanding for processes to be sped up as Hotch speaks to a group of people in his own personal office, Rossi beside him.

“What’s the army doing here?” Derek asks, his brows furrowed.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily demands, eyeing the uniformed professionals as they splay casefiles across their desks. 

They all enter the conference room where JJ was waiting for them, along with a neatly dressed Asian woman with her hair tied up in a ponytail and out of her face. 

“Guys, this is Dr Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens at the CDC,” JJ introduces, filling up styrofoam cups with water and placing them around the round table. 

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances,” she says as she places pills on a shiny metal tray. 

Spencer frowns at that. “What circumstances?”

Hotch enters the room instantly, gripping a case file in his iron fist. “We need to get started.”

“Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2PM yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It’s now just past 7AM the next day, we have twelve people dead,” JJ explains as the rest of team look through the manilla files. 

“Lung failure and black lesions,” Derek murmurs thoughtfully. “Anthrax?”

Spencer flicks through the papers, scanning the tox screen. “Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.”

“This strain does,” Kimura says, an edge of fear in her tone.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets– airports, malls, trains?” Emily asks, turning to Hotch who shakes his head. 

“There’s a media blackout.”

“We’re not telling the public?”

Derek looks over at Emily. “We’d have a mass exodus.”

“The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack,” Rossi explains.

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples,” Spencer says as he sifts through the papers. 

“Or if they wanted attention and didn’t get it, they might attack again. Doesn’t the public have the right know that?” 

“If there is another attack, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet,” Hotch says urgently. “Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can.”

Spencer wets his bottom lip nervously, his thoughts drifting to you. You work indoors all day. You’ll be fine, you have to be. “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized,” Kimura explains, “reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odourless and invisible.”

Rossi nods, almost as if he wasn’t surprised at all upon hearing the news. “A sophisticated strain. Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

“These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours,” Derek points out, gesturing to the less than positive crime photos in their files. 

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Kimura begins, taking an ultrasound scan of a patient’s lungs and presenting it to the team. “Its the lungs. We don’t know how to com2bat the toxins once they’re inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all.”

“The remaining survivors have been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital. Our offices will become a small command centre,” JJ tells them.

“We’ll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick,” Hotch adds on.

“General Whitworth is coming here?” Rossi asks.

Hotch nods in the affirmative. “He’s in charge of sit containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain this is will help inform who’s responsible.”

“My team is in charge of treating all victims,” Kimura goes on to tell the team, looking at each person.

“Reid, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital, interview the victims,” Hotch says, dishing out responsibilities. “Morgan and Prentiss, there’s a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There’s Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

Linda hands a small plastic container, each one having two round tablets resting inside. “We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something.”

Emily lets out a nervous breath as she toys with the rim of the container. “This… is really happening?

“We knew this could happen. We’ve done our homework. We’ve prepared for this. This is it,” Hotch says as reassuringly as possible before knocking his head back and taking the two Cipro tablets. 

“Cent’anni,” Rossi toasts, holding the little container out. “May you live one hundred years.”

*** 

Everyone rushes about, gathering files and resources before the head off to complete their allocated assignments. Regardless of how much is at stake in this certain situation, Spencer feels his heart spike with anxiety. It’s against protocol, sure, but shouldn’t he call you? Tell you to take a sick day and stay at home, or to just stay indoors the entire time you’re at work. Maybe if he’s lucky he could get you into witness protection. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hotch says slowly, seemingly appearing out of thin air behind him. 

Spencer freezes, his hands pausing as they rummage through his bag in search of his cell. “I’m not.”

“You’re not thinking?” Hotch asks, raising an eyebrow. “I know what you want to do.”

“I can’t just– I can’t just keep her in the dark, Hotch,” Spencer insists, continuing to feel for his cell phone. “She could get infected and–” His mouth runs dry at the idea and he swallows thickly. “If I can protect her, then why shouldn’t I?

Aaron sighs, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows knit together. “I know you care about her and I know you’re worried, but she isn’t on this team anymore. If we all called home and used this information to give them the advantage that other people don’t have… is that really the right thing to do?”

“Don’t give me a moral dilemma, Hotch. This isn’t a hypothetical,” Spencer counters, finally finding the little device buried at the bottom of his satchel. “When I– when the incident with Tobias Hankel happened, she never gave up on me. She went out on a limb for me. I’m returning the favour.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment before finally, “What about the guilt?”

Spencer balks. “What?”

“If she is saved because of the information you gave her… can you imagine the guilt she would feel? She’s a selfless person, Spencer, and knowing her… well, you can guess what she would do,” Aaron says, glancing back to his office where Rossi is waving him over. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. Kimura is waiting for you.”

Hotch is gone before Spencer could say anything. He huffs quietly, guilty after hearing Hotch’s words. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he has to accept that his boss is right. The best way to keep you safe is by finding this UnSub before he could hurt any more people. He rubs at his eyes in frustration, stalking out of the BAU offices. Hopefully you’ll forgive him.

*** 

“Dr. Lawrence Nichols? Yeah, I read about him. He was highly respected doctor who studied anthrax prior to the attacks in 2001,” Spencer says as he gets into the passenger seat of Derek’s SUV. He rolls up the sleeves of his dark purple shirt, brushing some sweat from his forehead. “They think that he’s behind it?”

“There was a video of him at a conference with the with the National Defense Committee. He was paranoid after the Amerithrax attacks in 2001, proposing some crazy high budget to ‘protect the people of America’,” Derek explains. “He matches the profile exactly. Prentiss and Rossi are heading to his work. Apparently he got demoted into working with influenza.”

Spencer grimaces as he stares at the overgrowing rose bushes at the front of Dr. Nichols’s house, his nose scrunching up in distaste. Do people not hire gardeners anymore? He squeezes past a few bushes to follow Derek closer to the house, hissing when his hand gets caught on one of the thorns. He shakes his hand out, a scratch already blooming on the back of his hand with small droplets ot blood already emerging. 

He continues to walk into the house as Derek’s phone rings, entering the house through a glass sliding door. The whirring of the fan above him grabs his attention and he frowns. The fan is on but the door is open… someone must have left in a hurry. He takes another step forward, jolting when he hears the sound of glass being crushed under his feet. Shit.

“Reid?” Derek yells, and Spencer jumps. 

“Morgan, get– get back!” Spencer yells, slamming the sliding door shut so hard that the glass shakes. “Get back! Get out of here!”

Derek frowns, tugging at the handle. ‘What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“No, don’t!”

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks again, tugging once more at the handle; Spencer is a lot stronger than he expected.

“What’s wrong?”

Spencer pushes his hair out of his face in frustration as he locks the door, turning back to his friend. “I’m sorry.”

It is in that moment that Derek’s eyes turn to the ground, his eyes widening in disbelief as he sees the white powder in the room leaking from a broken test tube with a bright yellow symbol for ‘biological hazard’. 

It feels like hours before Hotch and the military arrive at the house, along with an ambulance and a hazmat team. The stench of Dr. Nichols’s dead body lingers in the air even though the air-con is blasting and the air is circulating through the room. He doesn’t even want to think about the dead animals and test subjects in the cages, his stomach churning at the mere thought. From what he could tell, the doctor was dead three days ago, meaning that he couldn’t have been the one to infect those people at the park. His head is pounding and his throat itches and all of a sudden he can’t breathe. He tells himself to relax but how can he when he very well could die in here? He knows the statistics; only 55% of those who receive aggressive treatment survive. He doesn’t like those odds. 

“Hotch, I really messed up this time,” he says hoarsely into the phone, wiping the sweat off his upper lip.

“Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital,” Hotch says firmly, and Spencer watches as he puts the call on speaker. 

“What– no, I’m staying right here,” Spencer insists, frowning. 

Derek interrupts swiftly, “No, you’re not, Reid.”

“I’m already exposed,” Spencer says, his voice straining as he turns back into Dr. Nichols’s makeshift lab. “It’s not gonna do me any good to stop working the case.”

General Whitworth grimaces in response. “He’s already infected. Now, if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure.”

“My best chance is to stay here, see if there’s a cure, and try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols,” Spencer insists as he searches through the lab for what seems like the millionth time. 

Test tubes, files, and text books litter the lab, a flurry of papers splayed across the floor. The sight of them remind him of the first time he met you when you had ran into him on his first official day at the BAU. You were a swirling rainstorm as you practically slammed your head against his chest, the paperwork you were carrying flying into the air as you toppled over like a house of cards. In that moment, Spencer could have sworn that you were untouchable. You were like a fire, burning brighter than the sun, and he would be damned if he ever made that flame flicker away. 

“Come on, Hotch, say something to him,” Derek tries again, worry laced in his tone.

Aaron hesitates as he considers his options before sighing. “He’s right. His best chase is inside. We’re gonna get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother, it’s not going to do me any good. I’m already infected.” Spencer knows that if you were still part of the team that you would be scolding him about being so stubborn. Hell, you’re not even on the team anymore and you still scold him about it. 

As he continues to try and search for more clues and filtering the information he finds through to Derek, his thoughts continuously drift back to you. You and your blissfully unaware state. He thinks of the way you smile and the way you felt in his arms that day. He is sure that the universe is playing tricks with him because the one moment he finally has you, you’re ripped away from him. His mind wanders back to the way your eyes lit up and the way your lips felt against his and in that moment he’s begging. He’s begging whatever higher power there is that he is part of the 55% of people who survive an anthrax attack after treatment. 

“Hey, Reid,” Penelope’s voice echoes through the phone, sad and mopey. It’s unlike her, incredibly uncharacteristic and Spencer chokes out a quiet laugh. 

“Reid? Wow, no, uh… no witty Garcia greeting for me?” He asks, running his fingers through his damp sweaty hair. It’s disgusting and gross and he hates it because he knows that it’s a symptom of the disease. 

Penelope chuckles weakly from the other side of the line. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that so instead he asks, “Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“I… I know I can’t call… I know I can’t call (Y/N) or my mother without, uh–” he coughs, wiping his face with the palm of his hand and feeling his clammy skin– “without alerting everyone.”

“What do you need?”

“I– uh– I need you to record a message. Two messages. One for my mother and the other for… for (Y/N). In case anything happens to me.” His voice cracks as he speaks, his hand trembling because oh God, this really could be the end. After everything he went through going to those Narcotics Anonymous meetings, getting clean, going to therapy… this is how it ends?

“Oh, nothing is gonna happen to you,” Garcia says, wholeheartedly believing it. “You’re gonna brilliantly find ut who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

Spencer lets out a nervous breath. “I hope you’re right. But if you’re not, I just… I really want to make sure that they hear my voice. Both of them.”

“Okay. Just– just give me a second,” Penelope mumbles, clicking away on her keyboard. 

“Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“This– um, it’s for my mum first…” He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice even. “Hi, mum. This is Spencer. I just– I just really want you to know that I love you, and– and I need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.”

Penelope presses pause on that message, murmuring, “Okay. And– and for (Y/N)?”

“Is it on?” He asks quietly, coughing as the itchiness in his throat refuses to relent. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter.” His voice catches in his throat as he speaks, tears slipping past his eyes as he tries to choke out the words. “If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

“Reid?”

Dr. Kimura enters the room through the sliding door, clad in a bright red hazmat suit. “Prep the victim for transfer.”

“I gotta go,” Spencer says quickly, hanging up the call and pocketing his phone. 

“Dr. Reid,” Kimura says, walking over to him.

“You look nice,” he says drily, staring at the uniform. It looks very similar to an astronaut costume and if he were in any other situation, he would have started to laugh.

Kimura chuckles quietly. “I haven’t been in this outfit for a while.”

“How… how are the patients doing?” Spencer manages to ask, and suddenly it feels as if all the air is kicked out of his lungs. His head throbs with each attempt he makes to take in a breath and sweat pools at the top of his lip. 

“Let’s worry about you.”

“I actually… I feel fine,” Spencer lies through gritted teeth, the muscles in his shoulders aching with each heave of his chest. 

Kimura nods, her concern palpable. “Okay, if you feel any pain, I can give you something.”

In an instant, the fear of losing all the progress he has made in the past year pools to his stomach and he shakes his head adamantly, ignoring the way the room spins. “No, I’d rather not take any pain medication.”

“We can at least make you feel more comfortable.”

“I am comfortable and I don’t want to take any narcotics!” Spencer says firmly, and he can see the realisation dawn in Kimura’s eyes. 

“Okay… tell me how I can help.”

“I think the cure for this strain is in here somewhere,” he says through heavy breaths, sucking in a mouthful of air with every sentence. 

It isn’t long before the hazmat team has Spencer in a decontamination tent, the smell of sterile plastic filling his nose. They’re hosing him down behind a clear plastic curtain, Derek standing in front of him. The feeling of the cold water splashing against his back is uncomfortable, and Spencer grimaces at the feeling of his clothes sticking to his skin. It’s gross and his work shirt is growing heavy from the waterweight, sagging down on his shoulders. The anthrax isn’t helping either. It’s too hot and too cold all at once, it’s too hard to breathe and it’s like his head weighs a million pounds. 

“Go help Hotch,” Spencer croaks out to Derek, shivering as they continue to spray water on his back and front.

“Hotch has plenty of people helping him,” Derek dismisses. 

Spencer shakes his head and regrets it immediately, his head starting to spin. “He needs you more than I do.”

“Reid, I’m gonna see you off to the hospital.”

“I’m about to get naked so that they can scrub me down. Is that something you really want to see?” Spencer deadpans.

Derek grimaces before finally saying, “What if (Y/N) were here? Would you tell her to go?”

“(Y/N)  wouldn’t mind seeing me naked.”

Derek’s eyebrows shoot upwards at Spencer’s less than innocent words, immediately turning away. “We are having a conversation about this later. Take good care of him, please.”

The ambulance is stuffy and cramped, and the scrubs that he has to wear is itchy and uncomfortable. They’re menial thoughts that don’t even matter considering the severity of the situation, and Spencer wheezes out of a cough; a reminder that he might not even live to see the next day. The nasal cannula that is attached to Spencer’s nose isn’t doing much to assist him to breathe, and he coughs again. 

“How are you feeling, Dr. Reid?” Kimura asks as she checks his vitals. 

“My throats a little dry, but other than that I feel– I flee– feel…” He blanks. His mind knows the words but they get stuck on his tongue and he panics. It can’t end like this. He refuses for it to end like this. “Flee– fleel– I–”

Kimura nods in understanding, a sense of urgency behind her words. “Okay. Okay, you’re doing okay. Driver, faster!”

“Call–” Spencer tries again, the words spinning in his head. “Pelen– Penel… low… len…”

Call Penelope, he tries to say, the lights in the ambulance growing brighter and brighter. She needs to give (Y/N) the message, she needs to… she needs to…

All he sees is white.

*** 

The first thing Spencer notices when he regains consciousness is the smell of lavender and oranges overpowering the sterile scent of antibacterial wipes. It’s comforting and familiar and he wracks his brain as he tries to remember where he remembers it from. He doesn’t remember much; only getting into the ambulance and Kimura asking him questions. He shuffles around in his hospital bed, stretching his aching muscles. He forces his eyes open little by little, and he quints at the woman at the end of his hospital bed. 

“(Y/N)?”

“You ass,” you respond tearfully, your voice cracking as you swat him lightly on the arm. “You refused treatment?”

He smiles a little, sitting up on the bed. “Hey, angel.”

“Don’t ‘hey angel’ me,” you sniffle, taking hold of his hand and stroking his palm with your thumb. “You scared me.”

Spencer hums softly in acknowledgement, squeezing your hand back. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. Kimura said that you should be free to go in a couple of days but you need rest afterwards,” you tell him, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. “You owe me a date.”

“I do,” he murmurs, his cheeks flushed and a giddy smile on his face despite where he is. He looks at you, you and his oversized CalTech hoodie. The hoodie in itself is ugly; a muted grey with a half-assed logo slapped to the front and Spencer has hated it ever since he bought it with what little funds he had back in college. Yet, for some reason, he doesn’t hate it so much when you wear it. “You look beautiful.”

You roll your pretty eyes at him, moving your chair closer to him. “Liar.”

“Never,” he whispers. “Never to you.”

You smile at him again, bringing your lips to the back of his hand. “You told me you loved me. Is that true, too?”

“Love,” he corrects you quietly, “and I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Heat rushes up your neck at his words and you beam at him, kissing his cheeks. “I love you.”

He reaches a hand out to hold the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the line from your ear to your jaw. “I love you,” he says into the space between you, before kissing you again. 

← previous part || next part →

full masterlist

reblogs are always appreciated !!

[lokideservesahug]

Bound to falling in love

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Mick Schumacher x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Unsurprisingly this won the vote. But I hope you like it :)

Summary: Mick Schumacher has been extremelyprivate with how soulmark his whole life. But what happens when the interest does ehat its best at, snooping. Well Mick Schumacher might just finally meet the celebrity that he doesn't at all have a tiny crush on...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: WE ARE SO BACK BABY!!🖤🖤 Mercedes CCH 2024 Incoming (I'm delusional)

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 756,986 others

View all 533 comments

User1: I knew Y/N was an F1 girlie but I didn't know she was a Mercedes girl🤔

↳Yourusername: Have been for ever🖤

User2: Y/N is like me fr eith that caption

↳User3: Fr though😭 Like wdym 2nd place in sprint doesn't mean Lewis will get his 8th!?

↳Yourusername: Maybe he performed so well just to improve his ex-husband

↳User4: LMAO Poor Nico

Lewishamilton: Glad to see your support lies in the right place💪

↳Yourusername: OH my gosh. Sir Lewis Hamilton. It is an honour to speak to you

↳Lewishamilton: Maybe you should come to the Mercedes garage some time. I think certain people would love your company👀

↳User5: I think he just killed Y/N

↳User6: Wa she talking about himself or someone else. George perhaps? I'M so nosy!!!

↳User7: Well Mick is in the likes so that's where my money is...

↳User8: Sure grandma, the mkst soul ate obsessed obsessed In existence is caught up over Y/N...

↳User7: I mean it is Y/N Y/L/N

↳User8: True...

User9: Mick being in the likes👀

↳User10: Meh even if he does have a thing for Y/N, he'll still stick to his soulmate like he has done for decades.

↳User11: Hear me out, Y/N is his soulmate...

↳User10: Girl actualy shut up

↳User11: Just look at that twitter thread

↳User10: Hmmm interesting. It looks like it could be possible but the chances are 0.001% of it being her. Just because one user recognised it doesn't mean it's her

User12: Is anyone else really confused by all this talk of the twitter thread and that "one reply"

Liked by Yourusername

↳User13: basically people are trying to find out who Mick's soulmate is and currently people think it's Y/N

↳User12: OH... how random

↳User13: Yeah but tell me they wouldn't make the perfect couple...

Liked by Yourusername

↳User14: Y/N liking this comment + its replies twice is wild and shows she's as curious as us...

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Mick's phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Your phone | Mick's | Your phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: This guy wouldn't leave me alone in Italy. He says he's in the family business of driving cars or smt

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 1,023,987 others

View all 674 comments

User1: NO WAY.... DOES THIS MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES

↳User2: Girl probably? Hopefully? Idk?

User3: We don't need confirmation now...but also we so do!!!

User4: Awww they really are perfect for each other!🥺🥰

Liked by Mickschumacher, Yourusername

Lewishamilton: Glad you two finally found the time to go on a proper date rather than letting Mick ogle you all day!

↳Mickschumacher: Thanks for that man...

↳Yourusername: Aww Micky, you stare at me all the time?

↳Mickschumacher: How can I not Schatz, you're the most gorgeous person in the whole world❤❤❤

↳Estabanocon: How sweet 🤢

↳Mickschumacher: Aww just let me be in love this once.

User5: Ugh he's so bf coded

Liked by Yourusername

↳User6: I SEE YOU LURKING Y/N

User7: did you guys see Mick say love? Ooh is this a new word added to the equation or....

Liked by yourusername

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

New story from Mickschumacher

(My darling, my soulmate. Finally all mine to love)

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist:@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 4

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: four

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

elton

how is everyone on this fine evening?

the REAL karate kid

great until you rudely woke me up

from my peaceful nap

stairway

L

the imposter

eh not too bad

but my friend keeps on spamming me

with these tiktok edits

neev

tiktok edits you say 👀

what of?

the imposter

these girls she's kinda obsessed with

and finds them incredibly good-looking

and wants to know who my fav is or

who i find the most good-looking

elton

ooh really?

i wanna know who

let us google em and say our opinions

the REAL karate kid

and which one did you find

the most good-looking?

the imposter

i don't really know who any of them are 😭

but they're playing football in some clips

so i'm guessing they're football players?

elton

oh 😳

stairway

this will be interesting

earpsy

ah well describe them

so how many were there?

and who was the best looking?

i wanna keep an eye out if they

turn up on my fyp

the imposter

well there were quite a few

there was this one specific blonde

that she continuously spammed me

edits off the most

and i think she was the captain idk?

willybum

i feel like i've seen that blonde before!

i reckon she's everybody's favourite

since she's the most good-looking

stairway

what a big fat lie

elton

as if

the imposter

eh, everyone's fav?

i mean i see where people are coming

from but that's kinda stretching it ...

there are so many more players

that seem to be just as great if not better

the REAL karate kid

see

thank you

you get it

just like everyone else

someone just needs to knock

some sense into leah

and i'll gladly do it rn

BACK TF UP 🤺

lotte

who is your favourite player tho, y/n?

neev

i'd love to know too

stairway

come on, that's easy

it's gotta be stanway

right?

the REAL karate kid

y/n, my love

it's russo isn't it

elton

hey hey hey

we forgetting toone too

the REAL karate kid

shush

the imposter

um i'm still uncultured okay 😭

i don't know any of their names yet

oh but i do know one of their names

i think she's pretty cool

neev

ooh do tell who this lucky person is

that you find pretty cool

the imposter

it's lucy bronze

willybum

NAHHH

SHUT UP

stairway

NOT THAT OLD RUSTY GRANDMA 😭

OUT OF EVERYONE ELSE SHE COULD PICK

rusty metal

OI

who you calling an old rusty grandma?

stairway

YOU

WHO ELSE

rusty metal

i'm very delighted that

she is your favourite y/n

she's mine too <33

earpsy

LMAO 💀

just so you know y/n

you've broken a lot of hearts today

the REAL karate kid

lemme just go and find the nearest cliff

and fling myself off of it

stairway

i'm joining you

willybum

count me in too

the imposter

IM SORRY 😭

ALL THE LIONESSES SEEM AMAZING OKAY

I JUST ONLY KNOW ABOUT HER YET

elton

nah

you've made your choice

the imposter

YOU GUYS

it's really not that big of a deal

you all are acting like i've

personally rejected you guys

lotte

this whole thing was so funny to read omg

meado

honestly

top tier entertainment

made my day

thank you y/n

the imposter

you're welcome ...?

part five here

[moonstruckme]

Hey!! I saw your posts about colour blind!reader and reader with hearing problems and i really love them, I have to wear hearing aids myself so it is really lovely to see some representation!! So I was wondering if you could do remus x reader (or any marauder i don't mind) where the readers hearing aids broke and remus has to help them communicate for the day while they wait to get them fixed? If you aren't comfortable with that don't worry<33

I'm so glad you liked them sweetness, thanks for requesting! Unfortunately I don't have anyone in my life who uses hearing aids that I could consult about this, so I had to rely on the internet and apologize for any inaccuracies <33

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 653 words

“Moony,” James says, cocking his head at you inside Remus’ car. You’re sitting placidly in the passenger seat while the car trembles with bass. “What’s she doing?”

“She likes the vibrations,” Remus replies, carrying a giant tupperware container of chili. Ever since he moved in with Lily, James has taken to “accidentally” making too much of nearly every meal they have so that his friends are forced to come over and take home leftovers. (“I thought the recipe was supposed to be tripled,” James had said over the phone. “You’ve gotta take some off my hands, Moony, it’s gonna go bad.”) 

“She’s gonna be shaking the whole block if she turns that up any louder,” Sirius says, following them out of the house. “How can she stand it?”

“Hearing aids broke yesterday,” Remus explains, opening the passenger door. James flinches at the sound that bursts out, and Remus hands you the chili before reaching around you to turn down the dial on the radio. “We’re waiting for the shop to call so we can pick them up,” he finishes. 

You wave at the boys, and they wave back with smiles somewhat bemused. 

“How bad is her hearing without them?” James asks concernedly. 

You go to respond, having read the question on his lips, but Remus sets a hand on your shoulder. 

Hold on, he signs to you. This will be more fun. 

You roll your eyes, but play along with his game, letting Remus speak for you as if you can’t do it yourself. 

“She can’t hear much of anything,” Remus says. It’s the honest truth, though he neglects to mention that you’re still perfectly capable of speaking and also quite skilled at reading lips even without the aids. “Some loud noises or things with a deep pitch, but not enough to make out speech.” 

“Huh,” James says. “Well, tell her I hope she enjoys the chili.” 

This is great, Remus signs to you. I never get to practice. 

You’re mean, you sign back, even as your lips twitch at the corners.

“She says she’s sure she will,” Remus says. “Thanks for saving us some.” 

James grins. “No problem.” 

“If she really likes vibrations, she should come take a ride on my bike sometime,” Sirius suggests, and he’s smiling, because he knows exactly how Remus will feel about that offer. Remus hates the idea of even Sirius, let alone you, on a motorcycle. “Tell ‘er, Moons.” 

You’re already looking at Remus with a mischievous smile. 

No way, he tells you. Not happening.

Buzzkill, you fingerspell. 

Remus shrugs, and he doesn’t need to sign anything for you to read and what about it? in his expression. 

“Ooh, they’re fighting,” Sirius deduces, laughing darkly. “This sign language stuff isn’t so hard to pick up on, is it Prongs? You can get the general meaning from their faces.” 

Remus plasters on a smile. Not hard? I’ve been learning for two years, he vents to you. 

You give a little laugh. Don’t listen, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But at least tell him I said thanks for the offer.

Remus turns to Sirius. “She says fuck you.” 

You make a sound of offense, slapping Remus’ arm lightly. 

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “She said thank you for the offer. But no.” 

“It’s crazy,” James says with a little smile. “Everything you’re claiming she says sounds exactly like what you would say if you could choose, Moony.” He glances at you, and you raise your eyebrows like I know, right?

“Alright, we’d better be off,” Remus decides, shutting your door for you and rounding the front of the car. “Thanks for the chili, Prongs. And Pads, your bike is banned to her, so don’t offer again.” 

“Buzzkill,” Sirius calls after him, but Remus pretends not to hear, shutting his door. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice a bit louder than you’d usually allow. You’re grinning at Remus. “That’s exactly what I said!”

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Ooh! A wonderful interview with Rich Keeble who played Mr. Arnold (the one with the Doctor Who Annual :)) in S2! :)❤

Q: In Good Omens 2 you play Mr. Arnold, who runs the music shop on Whickber Street. Were you a fan of Good Omens before joining the cast, and is it challenging to take on such an iconic story which is already loved by a huge fanbase?

A: “There’s always pressure if you’re working on something with an existing fanbase and people might have an idea already as to how you should be approaching something. To be honest I was aware of the show but I hadn’t actually seen it before I was asked to get involved. I knew it was something special though! I remember talking to Tim Downie [Mr. Brown] about how when you tape for certain things you know if something’s a “good one”. Of course by the time I was on set I’d watched Season 1 and read the book. 

I had an interesting route into the show actually: I was asked at the last minute to read the stage directions at the tableread on Zoom, and Douglas [Mackinnon] the director called me up to discuss pronunciations of the character names etc. To prepare further I quickly watched the first episode on Prime Video, and I was very quickly drawn into it. A couple of hours later I was on a Zoom call with David [Tennant], Michael [Sheen] (with his bleached hair), Neil [Gaiman], Douglas and the whole team, including Suzanne [Smith] and Glenda [Mariani] in casting. After that readthrough I asked my agent to try and see if she could shoehorn me in and she came back with a tape for Mr. Arnold saying “you play the piano don’t you…?” They wanted me to demonstrate my musical playing ability, so I rented a rehearsal studio room in Brixton for an hour and filmed myself playing piano (and drums just in case), then I did my scenes a couple of different ways and I guess it wasn’t too terrible!”

Q: During episode five you mimed to music written by series composer David Arnold alongside a real string quartet – this must have been very immersive! How did it feel to work with David, and bring the ball to life?

A: “I actually didn’t meet David Arnold sadly, but I did work with Catherine Grimes, the music supervisor who is lovely. David was at the London screening but I missed an opportunity to go and say hello to him which I kicked myself about. 

I remember before I was in Scotland there was a bit of uncertainty as to whether I would need to play anything for real or not, so I practised every day playing loads of Bach and other music I thought was era-appropriate just in case they asked me to do anything on the fly. So yes, it was very immersive as you say! They sent me three pieces of music to learn which I practised in my Edinburgh apartment on a portable folding keyboard thing I bought. They introduced me to the string quartet (John, Sarah, Alison and Stephanie) and I tried to hang out with them when I could. On the day we all had earpieces to mime to. I had to mime while listening out for a cue from Nina [Sosanya] from across the room, then deliver my dialogue and carry on playing, which was tricky! The quartet and I helped each other out actually: Douglas would say something like “let’s go from a minute into the second piece of music”, I’d look at the sheet music and whisper “where the hell is that?” and one of the quartet would say “we think that’s bar 90” or something. Here’s a little bit of trivia: the shooting overran and the string quartet couldn’t make the last day, so they found some incredible lookalikes to replace them for the scene when we get lead out of the bookshop through all the demons, although I think they also kept them deliberately off camera.” 

Q: What did you think of your music shop when you first saw the set? Did you have a favourite poster or prop?

A: “I thought it was incredible! It could’ve been an actual music shop with all the instruments hanging up with the “Arnold’s” price tags on. The attention to detail was incredible, well IS incredible as I understand it’s all still there. It’s hard to pick a favourite to be honest. I did a little video walkaround on my phone at the time so maybe I’ll post that if I won’t get in trouble. Interestingly the shop interior itself was elsewhere on the set to the shop entrance you see from the street. You walk out of Aziraphale’s shop, over the road, through the door of the music shop and… there’s nothing.” 

Q: Mr. Arnold is tempted into the ball by a Doctor Who Annual and is playing the theme in the music shop scene – are you a fan of Doctor Who in real life? And what was it like making those jokes and references in front of the Tenth Doctor David Tennant?

A: “I’ve always dipped in and out of Doctor Who over the years since Sylvestor McCoy, who was doing it when I first became aware of it when I was growing up. Even if you’re not a fan it’s one of those shows you can’t really get away from, so doing that particular scene in front of David was really fun, and of course Douglas had directed Doctor Who as well. Apart from the amusing situation of two supposed Doctor Who fans talking about Doctor Who without realising they’re in the company of a Doctor Who, I also seem to remember Michael being the one to suggest that he would deliver his “due to problems at the BBC” line directly to David.

Oh, and I think it was actually my idea to grab the annual off the harpsichord before joining the queue behind Crowley at the end of the ballroom scene (which we’d shot weeks earlier at this point). When we were blocking it out and rehearsing I knew I had to leave my position and get to the front for my “surrender the angle” line, and then later it just felt like I wouldn’t leave without the annual so I ran back through everyone to grab it. Nobody seemed to have a problem with me doing that so I just carried on doing it when we shot it! I do remember it being a fun set with Douglas and the team being very open to suggestions.”

Q: How did you balance filming both Good Omens and BBC Ghosts at the same time?

A: “Luckily both shows were a joy to work on, and everyone seems to know about both of them. We were shooting them in early 2022 and I also had a little part in an ITV drama called ‘Stonehouse’, starring Matthew Macfadyen. I usually never know when I’m working next so to have three great TV jobs at once was very unusual. There was all this date juggling and I actually almost had to turn down Ghosts due to clashes. Luckily both shows had to move some dates so it worked out. But yes, I spent two weeks up in Scotland shooting all that Good Omens ballroom stuff, then I came back down to London to do Ghosts, knowing I’d be back up to shoot my scenes in the music shop in a couple of weeks. Now, when I found out who was playing my wife in Ghosts I couldn’t believe it: Caroline Sheen – Michael Sheen’s cousin! She was amazing and that was another great set in general. I say “set”, but it’s all filmed in that house which surprised me. I’d worked with Kiell [Smith-Bynoe] and Jim [Howick] before, and Charlotte [Ritchie] was in the Good Omens radio play a few years ago and a big fan of the book. Charlotte’s very musical of course and we got talking about my folding keyboard I had for practising my Good Omens stuff, and she ended up setting it up in the house for us to have a play on!

Now, when we’d shot all our internal scenes there was this big storm forecast, and our external scenes were scheduled for the day of the storm, so that had to be moved into the next week. It meant I ended up shooting those scenes outside the house, then going straight back up to Scotland to shoot the Good Omens music shop scene the next day! When I mentioned to Michael I’d just worked with Caroline he said “ooh she’s in Ghosts is she!” and revealed that she’d texted him about me which was rather surreal. Then later after the Ghosts wrap party Kiell gave me a part in his Channel 4 Blap, so at the time I felt like I was killing it career wise, but the industry quietened a bit after that and my workload eased off over the year so I was in my overdraft by November.”

Q: What are your plans for the future – can we expect to see you in something else soon?

A: “This year, after a bit of a quiet start, I was very fortunate to work on a Disney+ show called Rivals which stars… David Tennant! I think I’m allowed to say my character is called Brian, and I shot five episodes so that was another really amazing job, and great to work with David again (I told him he must be my good luck charm, although I hope he’s not sick of me). That should be out at some point in late 2024. Other than that I’ve filmed a few other bits I presume will be out next year, one of which is called Truelove on Channel 4 which actually looks really good. That starts early January. Of course now Season 3 of Good Omens has been greenlit, I would love Neil and the gang to have me back on that… but I can only keep my fingers crossed!”

[itsabouttimex2]

“You need to do better.”

(This gets vitriolic, and is a full-blown criticism of Macaque’s portrayal in Season Four and Five. If criticism of a character/franchise you like upsets you, I do not recommend reading.)

Wow. I had no faith in his character writing, and I’m STILL disappointed.

And it only took one episode! How impressive!

Macaque, who has put in ZERO on-screen effort to become a better person or make amends to his victims, is criticizing Wukong for being a bad mentor! And does Wukong criticize him back? NOPE!

After getting screamed at and berated, does Wukong defend himself? NOPE!

Ooh, but there was a second long reference in a dual yelling match that mentioned that Macaque was a genuinely bad person who took glee in hurting innocent people! Oh, fucking delightful! Ooh, Wukong even points out in one episode that Macaque goes without consequences!

Pointing out a flaw in your writing does not make it less of a flaw.

Macaque will always be allowed to do whatever he wants to anyone he wants- power theft, attempted murder, insults, deceit, assault-

And the narrative and characters will never hold him accountable or force Macaque to look inwards or become a better person.

Macaque will always fall upwards into redemption without any obstacles or pushback.

There will never be a struggle to goodness with a satisfying conclusion. There will never be a moment where falters in his newfound goodness and questions going back to his old ways. There will never be explicit remorse or regret. He will never have deep introspections on his crimes and atrocities that provide a reason for him to want to change.

The sum of his “arc” will always be “you were a good guy all along”, and that lack of depth is where it will stay.

RIP Seasons 1-3 Macaque. You were fun and interesting and cool and lovable.

But the man they replaced you with was destined to be a boring and brooding “anti-hero” who has no real connection to the actions you selfishly and violently performed with your own two hands-

And you will always be a less interesting character for it.

The execution of the actual arc boils down to a single heroic (but ultimately self-serving) moment and then Macaque is immediately forgiven for all the crimes he’s committed and is a magically better person without any effort and nothing he’s done is ever brought up again.

It severely weakens any character’s arc to cut them off from their past actions. If MK forgot his traumas every season instead of carrying them forward- we’d all agree that doing so was a case of poor writing.

It was the reason that people disliked Mei’s portrayal in Season Four- she immediately moved on from the Samadhi Fire arc and “no longer wielded it” after spending a whole season gathering and learning to use it.

Why can’t we agree that it’s bad for Macaque, too?

You can’t “develop” a character by dropping an entire plotline and writing it off with one line.

You can’t “redeem” a character by pretending that they were a good person right from the start.

Sorry, bud.

I really did like you. I just wish I could like your writing.

——————

And, what is more clear to me now than ever?

People only defended Macaque’s shitty writing because they think he’s hot.

I know this now, because I’ve seen white-hot Li Jing arc hatred from fervent Macaque arc defenders.

So we all agree that an “I didn’t really mean it!” isn’t an excuse to abuse the people around you? That you don’t get to mistreat innocent people just because you’re stressed and upset?

Hmmm.

Hmmmmmmm.

I wonder why people despise Jing for his dogshit “one nice thing redeems all your bad actions” arc but love Macaque for his??

(Because they think the monkey is hot.)

The funny thing, though?

Li Jing apologizes to at least one of the victims of his actions. He expresses regret and remorse.

Macaque doesn’t even have that.

——————

Anyways here’s a line that I hate because Macaque has in no way developed enough to have the right to deliver it-

AND NO, SUDDENLY HAVING AN AFFINITY FOR PERFORMING KIND OR SACRIFICIAL ACTS IS NOT GOOD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

HIM MAGICALLY OFFSCREEN BECOMING A GOOD PERSON WHO CARES ABOUT INNOCENT LIFE IS NOT GOOD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

IF ALL IT TAKES TO “BE BETTER” IS ACTING LIKE A HERO, WUKONG IS LITERALLY A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER OF A PERSON THAN HE IS

THIS LINE IS DOGSHIT

“You need to do better.”

Really, Macaque? Maybe you should take your own damn advice- try apologizing to one of the people you tried to hurt and tried to murder in cold blood!

Like when you trapped MK under his staff after stealing his powers and tried to murder him when he was helpless?

Or when you kidnapped MK’s friends and tortured the kid by forcing him to fight them?

Or you led a violent assault against a palace full of innocent people?

Or violently beat his dear friends until they were screaming in pain?

Or assaulted Tang, who posed no threat to you?

Or threatened to murder an innocent girl if you didn’t get your way, then ran away (and encouraged MK to abandon her) first thing when it put her into a life-threatening meltdown of raw power?

(Isn’t it cool how NONE of these people have interesting or varied reactions to him doing this and ALL immediately are cool with him like a gelatinous hivemind.)

(Oooh ONE mildly questioning line from Pigsy but no anger over his adoptive son nearly being killed multiple times over)

(Isn’t it cool that no one has complex or interesting thoughts on this.)

(Isn’t it cool that by robbing them of unique feelings on the matter they robbed Macaque and the Monkie Kids of compelling and interesting interactions that could’ve helped flesh out their personalities and strengthen their characterization.)

(Isn’t it cool that Macaque and the Monkie Kids are actively denied intriguing character dynamics so Macaque’s shitty “redemption arc” can happen faster.)

(Isn’t that cool.)

Why don’t YOU do better, Macaque?

(In a way that is more satisfying than “one kind-hearted speech from a kid that I tried to murder changed my mind and now I am a better person but all my character development happened offscreen and without personal introspection”, at least.)

Also what the fuck do you mean by “do better”?

Be heroic and put your life in danger? He already does that! He’s done it more than you have!

Just tell MK that he’s not alone? YOU COULD DO THAT YOURSELF, MACAQUE!

Help MK with his traumas and fears? MK doesn’t tell anyone about those! He keeps them bottled up, lock and key, and actively refuses attempts to help!

Wukong TRIED to reach out to him, and MK PUSHED HIM AWAY! Was he supposed to tie the fucking kid down and torture the information out of him?

He respected MK’s boundaries by not pushing any further and letting him leave!!

WHY IS THAT A BAD THING??

What the fuck, man

[allieebobo]

Do you have any if recommendation?

Ooh! I have really, really bad memory(!!) but these are current faves that I have played/replayed recently that I can think of. A lot of the authors are also THE BEST HUMAN BEINGS EVER. So, double recommendation.

I probably missed a bunch out, so take this as a non-exhaustive list! In no particular order:

(Edit: Added some descriptions but yeah I got a little unhinged so I'm sorry nothing makes sense or if the quality of the write-up went down over time/did not actually give you any useful info)

WIPs with demos

Citadel, @bouncyballcitadel (I think of all the IFs on this list, this one makes me sweat the most. And I've said it once and I'll say it again: the dialogue is so snappy and well-written, and characters are SO DAMNED LOVEABLE.)

Infamous, @infamous-if (I've been manifesting Band/Musician IFs for the longest time, and then this popped up! I've even played Choice of a Rockstar, that's how desperate I was... Anyway, this is legions better than that. Angsty ex routes are my kryptonite, and Seven is just. Inevitable.)

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian, @defiledheartsblog (I went into this wanting something juicy and fun/historical—and it's all of those things, but I didn't expect it to be so damned funny, too. The ROs are all impeccable.)

Raiders of the Caravan and Apartment 3-3, @leftski-if (A'ight listen, fantasy slice-of-life is my fave genre, and these are IT. Like, everything I never knew I needed in my life, and SO cozy/wholesome, with a cast of characters that I want to befriend in real life.)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart @doriana-gray-games (First off, the customization in this game is INSANE, and the branching too. I've replayed a couple of times and the little variations I discover each time just blows my mind. Secondly, it's so funny and written so well. Ngl I'm not a Sherlock fan but that's just testament to how amazing this IF is.)

When Life Gives You Lemons, @when-life-gives-you-lemonssss (Modern slice-of-life with an adorable kid, a bunch of hot ROs, CC. Hill's humor, what can I say?)

Golden @milaswriting (Really interesting world-building, one of the coolest fictional cities I've read in an IF, AND I'm obsessed with the ROs, in particular K de la Renta. Also Mila is such an awesome writer, I'm beyond excited for @beyondthegame.)

A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns (This game is beautiful, polished, and SO exciting. Honestly, it looks like the kind of game created by a whole-ass game studio and would cost $50 to buy, it's that good. I really got swept up by this IF—probably played it all in one go.)

Rougi @rougi-if (Again, another game with scrumptious visuals/UI and also is just so well-crafted. I love the premise too, it's so original and fresh.)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story @anya-dev (Unfortunately this one might be on hiatus but I am/was really, really obsessed.)

Wayfarer @idrellegames (Love the game mechanics of this one, and the visuals. Probably controversial, but I like the D&D / random dice effect. And I also like the fact that it feels like an old-school RPG.)

Chop shop @losergames (The premise is all I needed to be sold, really—I'd always wanted to buy GTA as a kid but my parents were like NO WAY. Anyway, this IF did not disappoint, and let me live all my childhood dreams.)

Edit: AHH! How could I forget, one of my recent faves, Folksaga @folksaga-if (Lush atmospheric writing, super unique premise—norse mythology, plus I'm head over heels for Katla).

Completed IFs

Butterfly Soup 1 and 2 @brianna-lei (these are completed and I will never not promote them. Honestly the most adorable, wholesome, funny sports/coming-of-age IF I've read)

Elsinore: After Hamlet @lapinlunairegames (Insanely cool premise, insanely cool execution)

The Thick Table Tavern @manonamora-if (I love bar/tavern games, and this one actually lets you mix drinks! Instant fave.)

Other HGs/COGs I love: Slammed, Tin Star, Fallen Hero, If it pleases the court, A Player's Heart (these last two are so underrated, though I guess cause it's mainly wlw)

[eisdendrobium]

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

pairings : ayato x reader summary : you're in a loveless marriage with ayato, you thought you could make it work at first but it seems impossible, so you left.

note : heavy angst, not proofread, sad ending (sorry y'all), nothing else - enjoy ^^

this is a part 2 of "glimpse of us"

yeah he's gorgeous but that's all he is. all you've ever liked in him. never once did he ever bring you joy

"let's get a divorce ayato." ayato snaps out of his trace and looks up at your eyes. taken aback.

"what makes you get to this point, [name]?" he place his tea cup down and asked you calmly.

you let out a sigh and straighten your posture, "i know you still love her ayato. I know the 'secret' letters you sent her and the letters you received from her. and i know, i know that i came and ruined your relationship with her. So, why stay in this loveless marriage right? torturing ourselves every single day"

a small smile forms on ayato's lips, yet his expression is unreadable.

"... yeah, i'm sorry [name], but,, i'm afraid we can't. what will our family thinks? what will the people say when they see us divorced?"

a hand went up to ruffle your hair. frustrated.

"i know. i know it's for our family, but i'm not going to waste my life just for politics ayato, and so should you.."

"i..."

"i'm tired of this, please understand me. i've tried to make this whole thing works alright? i've tried to make us work so many time yet you never seemed to put any effort in this"

———

finally back to his beloved, ayato felt like he's the happiest man alive. All the catching up, the i love you's, the casual and fancy date ayato does with her to fill up his one year yearning.

"look ayato! i've bought you dango!" she smiles while showing a pack of tricoloured dango

ayato couldn't help but smile, taking the dango and eating one of it.

"ayato? i've made you dango! thought you could use a break,, there's also milk tea! i know how much you like dango milk"

"are you alright love? is it bad?" ayato didn't even realize his smile falter as he looks to the ground. why would he think about you? maybe it was a memory to appreciate you. that's what he say to himself.

but somehow it keeps on happening.

"how's the food love?" "what do you think, ayato?"

"oh how fun! let's go make a sand castle love!" she laughed while dragging ayato by the hand. "woah... the view is breathtaking during sunset, thank you for bringing me here, ayato" you thanked, eyes focused on the orange ball of fire.

"oh love... this is the third milk tea you've had this week, you know it's not good to consume too much.." she said, gently taking the bottle from his grasp "are you drinking milk tea again? you know it's not good to consume too much of it.." you said, concerned.

too much. it's too much for him to handle.

why are you there? why are you haunting him? the thought of you is eating him alive. what is it he asked, guilt? regret? you're happy now. probably with someone new, someone who actually loves you. So should he. right? so why is it so hard to let you go?

his night were constantly filled by your smile, your laugh, you.

"My Lord, there's a package for you" thoma enters the estate one day, carrying a rather small box.

taking it from thoma and giving him a thanks, ayato opens the box and sees the small gifts he once gave you in act of formality towards you and your family.

slowly picking one of them up, he spot a letter under it, opening it he reads what was written:

to Lord Kamisato,

hey... i was sorting things out and find these gifts you gave me, thought i should return it to you.

signed, [name]

closing the letter he scavenge into the box as he recalled the day he gave you each of those trinkets.

"ooh who gave you those gift love?" she asked, entering the room

"uhm.. i'm not sure darling" standing up from the chair he excuse himself out.

ayato needed space, he needs to think - i don't even know what is there to think really, there's only one obvious answer.

he crimple the letter and rush towards your house.

halfway there rain started pouring and thunder starts dancing around the sky, seems like the universe is not letting him meets you yet he push through. he have had enough of this whole thing.

\

a knock was heard through your door, 'who could it be?' you thought. standing up from the sofa you make your way towards the door and opens it only to find someone you've least expected.

ayato, drench in rain, breathing heavily - looking at you intently, his violet eyes dancing with yours.

"ayato? what are you doing here?" and without warning he hugs you.

he hugs you? this is the first.

neither of you break away from the hug for a while, you're too shocked to push him away, and him getting too comfortable embracing you.

"i'm sorry [name], i'm sorry.." he mumbles as he pulls you closer.

finally regaining your composure you pull away from him,

"why don't you come in and change first hm? then we could talk" you move and gesture him to come which he gladly did.

after changing he joins you in the tatami room. it was quiet, yet ayato finds it comforting. the only sound that could be heard was the rain outside and the fireplace, the perfect ambience to live in for ayato.

"...so....wanna explain why you came?" you starts, eyes never leaving the fire.

"yeah, uhm.. [name], you've been on my mind lately.. and i couldn't help but feel these negative emotion around me,,, i just- .. i thought maybe talking about it with you would help" he explains

"was it because of the package i sent you?"

"no- well.. that package was what pushed me to came here... [name] i know i wasn't the husband material then and i know you're happy now, but i can't.. stop thinking about you, about us. and i know it's wrong, i know it's cruel but i just can't help it" he turns his whole body towards you. totally breaking his character.

finally turning your head to look at him you answer, "yeah, it is cruel ayato. i've tried everything to make us work but you threw all of it away without even glancing at it, and now you're asking me to what? take you back? what about your lover? you loves her and so does she"

"i know! i know i messed up badly and truth is i'm still a mess right now [name]" he cover his face with desperation and ruffle his hair.

silent took over the atmosphere as you think about it.

you gave him your everything, your love, time, effort, everything. yet he gave you nothing in return. what's in it for you if you gave him another chance?

"..i'm sorry ayato." ayato looks up towards you and sees that you've already averts your gaze towards the fireplace.

quickly standing up ayato make his way towards you, kneeling in front of you, taking your hands in his "no.. please [name]" he whispers

"i loved you ayato, but now,, i just wish you'd stay in my memories. you're happy with her and that's it. don't make this any harder for me.." you look down towards your interwind hand and slowly pulling them away from his grasp.

"please.." he whispers once more.

shaking your head and raising your head to look at him with a sad smile "i can't" you whispered in return.

ayato let his head fall along with the tears, staining your clothes.

closing your front door you finally cut the relationship between the two of you. slowly you feel your eyes stinging as the tears finally starts flowing.

why did he came? why did he have to ruin all of your effort to move on and let him go?

you're supposed to put him in the past, and you did. So why are you crying now?

"i'm sorry ayato.. but i have to do it for me.." you say quietly towards ayato's retreating figure from the window.

\

a few months after you finally found someone, a person you loved and who loves you just as much.

ayato finds that fact lovely yet crushing at the same time. he said that he’s happy for you yet he knows that he’s lying to himself, missions after missions he did just to forget you. busying himself so he wouldn’t drown over the fact that he’d been replaced.

he saw you once in one of the stores buying sweets with a guy, you looked happy— in love, maybe that’s more accurate. ayato felt like the world stop spinning for a moment as he spied over you and your beloved.

that moment was his before, yet he didn’t cherished it like he should.

you were his but now anymore. that’s the fact that he’s trying to accept.

he’ll be marrying his beloved next month, the kamisato family finally agreed to do it and he’s happy about it. it’s everything he had dreamt of!

so why is there a longing for you? a desire to just leave everything behind and take you with him, away from everybody else?

oh how history is repeating itself. what a cruel thing.

a/n : reblogs are greatly appreciated! and please feel free to comment what you think about this fic ^^

taglist : @ayatoslovelywife @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @alexiris @yummyberry @starlightaura @tiredasiandaughter @almond-t0fu @clevercatprotector14 @ilovemilfs1111 @rose-ly @genshinloversposts

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 9 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, angst, SLOOOWW BUURNNN

words: 9.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 9 ► the silence is one thing that i’ll remember you said. well, it’s better than nothing when nothing’s all that you left

The next morning was warm.

It was such a stark contrast to last night that you couldn’t help but still feel phantom shivers on your skin when you got off the bus to stretch your legs. It was still two more hours to Oslo, and it was unreasonably early to be awake, considering you did not return to the bus until sunrise—a mere half an hour before the scheduled departure for Norway.

Everyone else was still asleep, which made sense: they must have returned to the bus sometime very late, too. Granted, when you and Jungkook reached the restaurant on Strandvägen yesterday, your team was no longer there—but that didn’t mean they went to sleep as soon as they returned.

To be fair, you hadn’t expected to find them at the restaurant anyway. But after the abrupt end of your conversation with Jungkook on the bridge, you had hoped for a distraction. Something to take your mind off the uncomfortable gaping hole inside you.

Jungkook had suggested last night that you take a taxi back to the tour bus, and you were almost ready to walk back on your own.

It confused you—this unexpected longing for something you dared not name—but it also frightened you. Therefore, you were glad that when the bus reached Oslo, Jungkook was still asleep.

You felt like you needed a minute—to convince yourself that whatever you thought you’d felt in the air last night was more wishful thinking than anything else. Because here’s the thing about wishful thinking: it was yours. And everything that was yours, you could extinguish. You could put it out like you’d done countless times before.

So, several hours later in Oslo, you gave Yoongi very strict instructions to keep the band close and make sure they rested before tomorrow’s performance. And then you took your girls to explore the city, sightsee and drink as much coffee as you could find.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, sightseeing was something he also wanted to do with you once you arrived in Oslo. He had a lot to tell you; he knew he owed you an explanation. He just wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened, let alone what hadn’t happened.

But when he woke up on the bus, you had already left, taking Maggie and Luna with you. So, not only did he have to wallow in his thoughts, but he also had to deal with a sulking Taehyung, who never openly admitted why he was sulking, but it was obvious enough. Even though he texted Luna all day, she wasn’t physically there with him, and that wasn’t enough.

Jungkook was annoyed. He should have seen this coming—he tended to sleep in while you tended to not—but he realised he had expected you to stay. He’d expected a reaction. Perhaps he’d hoped you would demand that he explained himself and why the two of you had gone from I-miss-you to let’s-walk-and-not-look-at-each-other.

Your reaction, however, was no reaction at all.

You and the girls went out, which for the three of you, meant getting ice cream and walking the city streets until you found something interesting. Sometimes this took up the whole day. You loved it—especially today.

But then, just as you were approaching what looked like a castle with crowds of tourists flocking to it—Luna discovered it was the Royal Palace, which should have been obvious, but you and Maggie still ooh-ed and ahh-ed at Luna’s Google Maps skills—your phone started to ring.

Licking your ice cream hurriedly so it wouldn’t melt completely while you talked, you walked away from the girls to take the call.

You were half-expecting an emergency, but before you could really be disappointed that you had to end your excursion, you noticed the unknown number on the screen of your phone. You briefly considered not answering, but you saw that the number had an area code from home.

You thought it might be your brother calling. Once again, you considered not answering, still angry at him for his recklessness and your mum’s tears. But responsibility won over, and you picked up.

On the other end of the line was a man asking for you. For a moment, you were confused, because the voice sounded familiar, but the owner of it didn’t seem to know who he was talking to.

“This is she,” you responded to your own name. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Oh, you sound so different for some reaso—it’s Nick,” the man said, and you stopped chewing on the waffle cone of your ice cream in surprise.

Nick Zhou had been your supervisor after you graduated and started to work at the company where you now managed Rated Riot. Back then, you were just an intern before being promoted to assistant manager for an indie rock band with the ominous name The Jungle Will Get You, when you were only 23 years old. Nick was their manager then, and he never admitted it, but you knew he’d pulled some strings to get you that job.

A little over a year later, you took over the management of Rated Riot, and you haven’t spoken to Nick since. He went on to manage Reconnaissance, one of the biggest alternative rock bands in the country, if not the world. Just being their manager made Nick more popular than Rated Riot at the moment.

You thought things had worked out well for you both, so there was simply no reason for you to stay in touch.

You figured the reason he was calling you now had to mean good things for Rated Riot. Supporting Reconnaissance on tour? Perhaps a collaboration?

“Nick!” was the first word out of your mouth after the surprise had subsided. “So nice to hear from you again.”

“I heard you were in Europe? That’s huge!” he said, which was kind of him, because Reconnaissance were selling out stadiums.

“We are, yeah. Oslo right now,” you said, smiling at Maggie, who approached you and tugged on your arm like a toddler wanting to go on a ride at an amusement park. Except in this case, the ‘ride’ was a wine bar down the street from the palace. You nodded, and that was permission enough for her to jog over to Luna and drag the two of you towards the bar, never mind that it was 3 PM. You said into the phone, “how are you? You’re going to Australia soon, right?”

“Next week, yeah,” Nick said. “The new album’s coming shortly after that.”

“Ah, another tour,” you said with a teasing chuckle—you knew how much Nick hated flying. Even the Reconnaissance members talked about their ‘air-sick manager’ in almost every interview they did. “Good luck in advance!”

Nick chortled in irony. “Thanks, I’m going to need it. That’s actually, uh, the reason I’m calling.”

Your heart rate picked up as the ice cream melted in your hand. “Yeah?”

“Yes. See, we had some—er, situations,” he paused here as if searching for a better word. After he didn’t find one, he continued with the one he had picked, “and because of these situations, I’m putting together a new team. With the new album coming out soon, we’re on a really tight schedule.”

“Right,” you said. You could already hear him asking if Rated Riot would like to be the supporting act, and maybe even participate in Reconnaissance’s new album.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling you,” he said. “The management here is just me and this guy, Mark, who can’t dial a phone number to save his life, but he’s a great sport. Keeps the band alive. But I need more people. Preferably someone with, uh, experience.”

He paused meaningfully, but it still took you a minute to realise that he hadn’t contacted you about Rated Riot. He had contacted you about you.

You watched Maggie and Luna enter the wine bar, take your ice cream from you, and make a beeline for the cash register, all while you stood in the doorway.

“I’m—uh—Nick.” There was an uncomfortable lump of surprise in your throat. Your hands felt sticky and your mouth felt dry.  “I’m—I manage Rated Riot.”

“I know,” he said, “and they’re a very promising band, tons of potential,” he paused here, hesitating, “but I thought—well, this is sort of different, isn’t it?”

You would have scoffed if you weren’t so stunned. “Well, of course.”

“Yeah. So, I just—we need an assistant manager. Fast,” Nick said. “And you were the first person I thought of. I mean, we’ve worked together before. I know your strengths and I admire your work ethic. I think you’d be a great addition to our team.”

Overwhelmed, you barely managed to find your words. “I… appreciate the offer. But I don’t think I can just—”

“Think about it, okay?” he interrupted you, aware of the abruptness and sheer mass of this offer. “We’ll be back from Australia next month, so you don’t need to give me an answer right away. Just—the sooner the better, of course. But you can think about it. I just wanted to let you know that I have an opening, and I’d love it if you joined us.”

“I—okay.” The faint smell of grapes and old wood around the wine bar seemed to grow stronger the longer that you stood here, still frozen. “Thank you, Nick.”

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he said. “Take care, yeah?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, you too. Thanks again.”

The three beeps after he ended the call reverberated in your head, and it was another half-minute before you moved the phone from your ear. You looked at it in disbelief, as if it had been someone else who’d just had this conversation, and you had merely overheard it.

In an attempt to ground yourself, you tried to simplify your loud thoughts into whispers of an adequate noise.

There was an opening to be Reconnaissance’s assistant manager.

You’d have to take a step back, do more mundane tasks, similar to the ones you did back when you were Nick’s assistant that first time. But if you said yes, you’d be working with one of the biggest bands in the world right now.

But you couldn’t leave Rated Riot. You were their manager. You believed in them, and you loved everyone on this team.

“You look like you just found out Santa isn’t real,” Maggie’s voice brought you back to the present. She had come to get you, so you’d stop blocking the entrance for others. “Who was that?”

You still felt very hot and half-choked, so you tried to loosen the collar of your white tank top. The denim jacket you wore over it didn’t help much with the heat inside of you, either.

“Um,” you looked around as you slipped out of your jacket. “Can we get some wine first?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

You nodded, and before you could give a verbal response, Maggie was already calling out to your friend, who was about to place her order, “Luna! Grab some doubles! We have something going on.”

It took the girls about two minutes to find a table—granted, a couple of tourists who saw Maggie dragging you through the wine bar while you were trying to regain proper consciousness got scared and left, which helped a lot—and settle down.

As soon as you took the first sip, catching the rich and savoury taste—perhaps a bit too savoury; it immediately made you scrunch your nose—Luna scooted closer to you on the navy-coloured velvet couch.

“What happened?” she asked. “Who was that on the phone?”

You set your glass down. “That was Nick. My former supervisor. Before I started to work with Rated Riot. He, um—he manages Reconnaissance.”

“Oh, shit!” Maggie exclaimed at the same time as Luna muttered, “I don’t really know them.”

“Oh!” Maggie gasped, turning to Luna. “Wait. Weren’t you at their show a few days ago? I saw on your Instagram.”

“Yeah, Taehyung took me. He brought me to the after-party, too, but—” she paused as she noticed that Maggie’s eyes looked ready to pop out. She explained, “oh, that was just to babysit Jungkook. He’s the one who really listens to Reconnaissance. I don’t know any of their songs. They sounded good, but I’m—”

“Oh my God!” Maggie gasped again. She had glitter in her eyes and all over her face. “Wait until we get back on the bus! I probably have five different notebooks full of their song lyrics. You’ll love them.”

Luna nodded her head once, then paused in the middle of the second nod. “Wait, you brought those notebooks on tour? Aren’t they heavy?”

“Kind of. But I like to have them with me. And I keep adding to them, so—” Maggie stopped when you picked up your glass again. Your movement seemed to remind her what the topic was before she digressed. She leaned back in her bright yellow armchair. “—which is not the point. So, what did that guy want? Nick.”

Both girls turned their attention back to you.

You took another sip of your wine and said, “well, I thought he wanted Rated Riot.”

Swirling her glass, Luna asked, “he didn’t?”

“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “Apparently, he wants me.”

Luna was the first to understand the implication as her eyebrows lifted and her chin dropped. Maggie, on the other hand, looked at Luna, and then back at you.

“Like… to work with him?” she asked. “To manage Reconnaissance?”

“Well, obviously not to perform with them on stage,” Luna said to her impatiently, then turned back to you. “Why does he want you?”

“He said he needed to find an assistant manager quickly,” you explained, “and since he knows me, he thought I’d be... suitable. For that job.”

You didn’t know what words to choose so you wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable talking about this. And, as you sat here with your friends and your glass of wine, you realised that a part of you didn’t believe you were even ready to work with someone like Reconnaissance. For the most part, you were terrified of it.

You hoped Rated Riot would reach their level one day, that’s true. But starting to work with a band that was already so outrageously popular felt a bit like being thrown into a pot of boiling water.

“Well, what did you say?” Maggie asked.

“I said no,” you replied, your vision blurring again. “I think.”

The two girls spoke up at the same time.

Luna repeated, “you think?” while Maggie asked, “why not?”

They exchanged a look – Maggie, surprised; Luna, slightly accusing.

“What?” Maggie said in response to her look. “This is big!” She put down her glass and leaned over to touch your knee, wanting to emphasise her point, “I love you, okay? And I love working with you and everyone else here, and I know you do, too. But this is just… huge.”

“I know,” you said, your gaze still wandering along the tiled wall behind Maggie’s armchair. You felt disoriented and the wine had very little to do with it. “But I—I mean, I can’t just leave.”

“I think you should talk to the guys,” Luna suggested. She managed to come to terms with the heaviness of the offer that Nick had made much faster than you did. It helped, of course, that she wasn’t the one who had to make a decision here, but she was making a reasonable point regardless.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed, pointing at the girl on the couch next to you, and nodding eagerly at you. “Yeah. You should.”

You looked at both of them, then down at your glass, as if you could take a sip and it’d give you very clear directions of what to do next.

“But what can I say to them?” you asked. Then, in a voice meaning to imitate yourself, you said, “‘I might have an opportunity to leave you and work with a much bigger band.’ No. No, I don’t think so.”

Maggie squinted at you, unsure if she was the only one confused again. She asked carefully, “you… don’t think you’ll tell them this? Or you don’t think you’ll work with Reconnaissance?”

You finished your wine and set the glass back on the tray. The other girls’ glasses were still half-full.

“Neither, probably,” you replied. “I’d be—you know. If I went to work with Nick, I’d be fetching coffee for the other staff members and filling out paperwork. I already do that for Rated Riot anyway, but I don’t mind, because I don’t think we’re at a level where I’d need an assistant. But I—I want to reach that level with them. I want to be here every step of the way.”

If you’d lifted your eyes from the table in front of you, you would have seen the soft smile on Luna’s face. Instead, you heard it in her voice when she said, “that makes sense.”

Finally, you looked at her. “It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, I think you should sleep on it,” Maggie said, a different voice of reason. “Make sure this isn’t something you’ll regret later. Oh!” she clapped her hands. “You can even make a pros and cons list!”

You smiled while Luna snickered. She said to you, “pro: obviously, you wouldn’t be managing your ex-boyfriend—”

“Um?” Maggie cut in. “Con: you wouldn’t be managing your ex-boyfriend.”

Luna frowned at her. “How is that a con?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Have you seen her ex-boyfriend?”

Luna’s frown dissipated as she laughed, and even you chuckled, too.

In her whole life, Maggie might have had one and a half doubts about not actually being gay; she was simply an artist to the core. And she was very vocal about how unbelievably easy it was to photograph Jungkook when he was on stage. He was, in a truly annoying way, effortlessly photogenic.

“I guess that’s a pro and a con,” you said. There was a lingering smile on your face—this time, the wine did have something to do with it.

When paired with the sudden anxiety of Nick’s offer, the wine helped you distance yourself from the last conversation you’d had with Jungkook. And maybe it was better, you decided, that your friends didn’t know about the walk you two had taken. You preferred the conversation as it was now — cosy, safe, and almost buoyant.

“Is there a time limit?” Luna asked suddenly. “Did Nick tell you a date?”

“No,” you said with a sigh. “He said he wanted an answer soon. So I don’t have to decide right this second. But I’m not really considering it, to be honest. It’s a great opportunity, sure, but I think working with Rated Riot is a great opportunity, too.”

Both girls nodded in unison, their expressions brightening. Slowly, as you felt the support in their warm gazes, the atmosphere in the wine bar began to lighten, too. They understood. And they agreed with your point.

Luna teased, “does the band pay you extra when you say nice things about them? Because I really love Rated Riot.”

You chuckled. “I wish they did.”

Maggie lifted her glass. “Be careful. If you start complimenting them to their faces, it’ll go straight to their heads. And then we’ll have to give their shows an R rating.”

“Well, that would help them live up to their name,” Luna pointed out and the three of you burst into a fit of giggles again—partially because of the wine, but in your case also because of relief.

Nick’s offer and the confusing feelings from last night did not seem all that troublesome at the moment. You could almost forget about them, focusing only on the way things were right now.

You were happy like this. You didn’t want anything to change.

As dusk fell, Jungkook began to hover his finger over your name in his contact list. Just then, Sid burst into the otherwise empty bus and slammed the door with so much force that the whole vehicle swayed a little.

Startled, Jungkook looked up.

“Dude!” he called out, poking his head out of his bunk to see his friend’s proud face. “Gentle.”

“I have the best plans for us tonight,” Sid said as if he hadn’t heard him. “You will not believe the kind of bars they have here in Norway.”

Although Jungkook doubted that the bars here were any different from the ones back home, he still climbed out of the bunk, more intrigued by the idea of having company than by the supposed uniqueness of Norwegian bars. “Yeah?”

Sid’s smile grew wider still when he saw the same reaction mirrored on Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Let’s go.”

Jungkook hesitated. He had told you last night that things wouldn’t be the same between him and Sid when they returned home. And he meant it; he would have preferred to spend time with you—right now and back home. But you weren’t here, and while he was waiting for you, everyone else made different plans. Even Taehyung. And Jungkook hated being alone.

Grabbing his jacket, he climbed out of the bunk and allowed Sid to lead him outside, where the rest of their friends were already waiting.

They were like a herd of sheep, Jungkook thought unexpectedly while Sid ushered him out of the bus, the way they followed Sid. Why didn’t they ever protest or suggest their own ideas?

But as he looked at his friends – Jude and Minjun fighting over something on Jude’s phone, shoving the device in each other’s faces and shouting; Sid smacking them both on the backs of their heads, providing his own wisdom to their argument – he knew.

They stayed quiet, because the four of them were always together in the same way: with Sid in the lead, and the others following behind him. That’s the way it has always been. Jungkook knew that if one of them had a genuine problem with this, he would not be taken seriously. Or it would be the last time he could call them friends.

It was either this, or nothing at all.

That night, the four of them ended up in a cocktail bar in Oslo, a significant distance away from the tour bus and the rest of the crew. Jungkook didn’t understand why Sid had chosen this particular place until his friend winked and gestured towards the stairs leading to the basement.

“What’s down there?” Jungkook was dumb enough to ask.

Grateful for the chance to show off, Sid grinned and draped an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders as he led him—along with Jude and Minjun, who were looking around like this was a zoo—to the basement.

“Only the greatest thing to come out of Europe,” Sid explained. “You can thank me later.”

He didn’t.

It was an underground burlesque club with only three dancers, all of whom appeared so intimidating that Jungkook was convinced they could stab the four of them with their nails alone, if any of the boys looked them in the eye for too long. He didn’t dare to try.

Sid loved it.

Jungkook preferred the bar upstairs.

Minjun seemed to agree, so the two went back up for another round, while Jude stayed back. Despite occasionally acting like he hated Sid’s guts, Jude always stayed close to him, almost like an addict, who knew that this drug was bad for him, but still couldn’t break the habit.

“Do you think they’ll make it out alive?” Minjun asked as they waited for their drinks at the bar.

“I don’t think they’re getting out at all,” Jungkook replied. “It’s like siren screams for Sid.”

“That’s true. And if Sid stays, Jude stays.”

Jungkook nodded, his expression grim.

“So, D-11,” Minjun said. It took Jungkook a second to realise that he was counting down the days to the end of the bet. “How’s it going?”

He gave his friend a look. “I’m in a bar with you. How do you think it’s going?”

Minjun smiled and nodded to the bartender to thank him for bringing the drinks. Then he held his glass out to Jungkook.

“A toast,” he declared. Jungkook rolled his eyes and picked up his own glass. “May you win this bet, because Sid on a motorcycle is a menace I want nothing to do with.”

Snorting, Jungkook clinked his glass against his and they both downed their drinks in several big gulps.

“He’s not getting the bike,” Jungkook said, setting his glass down with new-found determination. Hearing Minjun mention the possibility of Sid winning the Katana made it feel more realistic. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.

“Do you need my help?” Minjun asked as if reading his mind.

Jungkook looked up from the bar top. “You couldn’t help even if I asked. We signed an agreement that we wouldn’t tell her.”

“You and Sid signed it,” Minjun pointed out. “I was just the person who typed it all out in my fucking Notes. I’m not legally bound to abide by the conditions of the deal. And, actually, neither are you. It’s just a—”

“Why would you help me?” Jungkook interrupted. His friend’s final sentences had evidently flown over his head. “I’ve hardly got anything to offer you in return.”

Minjun shrugged. “I just don’t want Sid to win.”

Jungkook swallowed. He found himself hoping, suddenly, that there was more to this. That if he really kicked Sid off the tour and out of his life, there would at least be one person who wouldn’t leave with him. One person who would stay.

“I don’t know what you could do,” Jungkook said. “Putting in a good word for me probably wouldn’t do much.”

“No?” his friend said, then looked down at his glass thoughtfully. “Okay. We can go full mentalist on her.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Dropping certain objects in her living space that leave imprints of you in her subconscious,” Minjun said completely seriously. “It’s simple.”

“Dude.” Jungkook blinked. “I don’t know where this—this Sherlockian shit is coming from, but I’m not going to mess with her head.”

Minjun was about to scoff, but held back because the offence on Jungkook’s face at the—apparently, preposterous—suggestion seemed genuine. As if Minjun didn’t know what he was saying. As if this was serious, and Jungkook didn’t want to ruin it by playing games.

Minjun pointed out, “but you already are messing with her head.”

If possible, Jungkook looked even more appalled. “I’m—that’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what’s the difference between what you’re doing and what I’m suggesting?”

“Well, I’m not trying to—I’m not sneaking around and forcing her to think about me,” Jungkook said, looking away from his friend and meeting the bartender’s gaze. He nodded, and the man behind the bar approached the two friends with a bottle of whiskey.

“It’s not force, technically,” Minjun explained as they watched the bartender refill their drinks. “It’s just how your brain works. You see something that reminds you of someone, and it sticks with you whether you’re aware of it or not.”

“I’d like for that to happen naturally,” Jungkook said, aware that he was the naïve one here. But he liked to think of it as hope. And he had that right—he was the only one who really knew you. The only one who could guess whether you were thinking about him or not.

Minjun shrugged and picked up his glass as soon as it was filled. “It’s your call. I’m just trying to speed up the process.”

Jungkook brought his own drink to his lips, but paused when Minjun spoke up again.

“Let me ask you something, though,” he said. “Before you get too far ahead of yourself.”

Even before he heard the question, Jungkook already felt queasy. “What is it?”

“Do you genuinely want to get back together with her?” Minjun asked.

There seemed to be no ill intentions behind the question, but Jungkook spent a full minute watching him and reading his expression.

Minjun was quick to notice his uncertainty. He reassured, “I’m asking because I care. Not because I want to make fun of you. I know you love her, but this—well, I’m just wondering if you want to act on these feelings.”

Jungkook looked down again. “Yeah, uh, I do. It’s not just about the bet for me.”

Minjun had suspected as much, so he wanted to broach the subject when no one else was around.

“But you still think making a bet out of it is the way to go?” he inquired.

Jungkook knew where this was going. And he still tried to appear nonchalant.

“I mean, I’m in this mess anyway, so why not actually win this?” he replied with a laid-back shrug that was so laid-back, it only amplified the fact that it was not laid-back at all.

“Jungkook,” Minjun said, startling him. Normally, the four of them addressed each other as ‘dude’ or the occasional ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’. Hearing his name felt strange, almost foreboding.

“There’s so many reasons why not,” Minjun continued. “The most important one being that you come out of this as a winner twice. You get her and you get the bike. But all she gets is the realisation that someone she’s letting back into her life has lied to her.”

Defensively, Jungkook demanded, “when did I lie?”

“You’re getting back together with her because of the bet!”

“It’s not because of—it’s not just because of the bet. I just told you.”

“But she doesn’t know about it,” Minjun countered, poking holes in Jungkook’s feeble defensive shield. It was more like a flimsy piece of paper than a shield, really; just something he’d hoped to fool himself—and you—into believing. “She doesn’t know what else is at stake. It’s not fair.”

“Okay,” Jungkook turned in his seat to face Minjun, leaning his elbow against the bar top. “What are you trying to tell me? That I should lose the bet on purpose? To show her that I care about her more than anything else?”

“No,” Minjun replied, less confident. Jungkook was likely not aware of this, but he could be very intimidating. For Minjun, who considered himself immune to most forms of intimidation after years of being friends with Sid, this was unusual and unsettling. “I’m not telling you anything. I’m just suggesting you think about it. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

Jungkook swallowed, his throat dry.

He knew that he had already drawn a subconscious line between simply wanting you back and wanting you back to win the bet. He worried about the exact thing that Minjun had just mentioned—that he couldn’t have both. He worried that it wouldn’t be fair to be with you again if he won.

This was what stopped him on the bridge. It’s what haunted his mind every time he thought about talking to you.

Deep down, he knew he would have to make a choice: either he won the bet, or he got back together with you.

And yet, he couldn’t let Sid win. The thought pressed on his mind with so much weight that he knew it wasn’t just you that he didn’t want to lose, and it definitely wasn’t just his bike. It was a matter of pride, too.

He was proving a point for all the years that Sid had asserted his superiority over him.

“You know, that never made any sense to me,” Jungkook said. Alcohol helped him feel more confident and less self-conscious. Maybe he should stay tipsy until the end of the bet. “That’s the whole point of the cake. You get it, and it’s not just there to fucking look at. It’s there to be eaten.”

Minjun could tell Jungkook felt defensive, so he didn’t take the aggression personally. Instead, he took a sip of his drink.

“Whatever, man,” he said. “It’s your life, in the end.”

“Yeah. It is,” Jungkook replied so firmly that it just sounded childish. He tried to soften his tone, “I appreciate yo—your concern, but I got this.”

“Okay,” his friend agreed because that was easier. They could have been at it for hours—and God knows, Jungkook and Sid had been at it for hours—but Minjun didn’t think it was worth it. He concluded, “that’s fine.”

“It is,” Jungkook agreed.

But it was clear that it wasn’t fine. Jungkook looked flushed as if he’d bathed in a barrel of whiskey, not merely drank two glasses of it.

After about half an hour, the silence became heavy. At first, Minjun had thought that he would rather throw himself down the stairs than return to the basement where Sid and Jude were. But now that seemed like a better alternative than sitting here with a sulking Jungkook.

“You know, uh, I think I’m going to go check on Sid and Jude,” he said while Jungkook ordered another—his fifth—glass. “Don’t want them to die in Oslo. Too big of a hassle to bring their bodies back home.”

Jungkook’s lip did not even twitch. But he nodded and Minjun slid off his chair. He glanced back at his friend as he went, not wanting to leave him alone, but also feeling like Jungkook was already alone anyway, even with him here.

Jungkook had always been good at isolating himself, even when surrounded by other people. Honestly, Minjun wasn’t sure if Jungkook even realised that he wasn’t sitting at the bar alone. He told Minjun once that he couldn’t stand silence, but Minjun knew that sometimes, Jungkook’s thoughts overwhelmed him without his consent. And once he got lost in his own mind, the rest of the world ceased to exist for him.

However, now that he was truly alone, Jungkook was struck by the heavy weight of his solitude. He would have agreed with Minjun – he really did have a monumental talent for disassociating anywhere, anytime. But to be able to drift off into his thoughts and turn the crowd into a blur, he needed a crowd in the first place.

Now that he was alone, all he could think about was that he was alone.

He certainly wasn’t going to follow his friends into the basement, so he got a few more drinks into his system for courage, and pulled his phone out—a painful reflex—to dial your number.

Needless to say, by the time you answered—it was 1 AM, but, of course, you answered—he was already slurring his words as he tried to explain why he’d called.

“Are you drunk?” was your first question as soon as you heard him try to introduce himself—pointlessly so, because at that point in your life, he was the only person who called you after midnight.

“Of course,” he said, with hints of offence in his voice. Why would he not be drunk? he rationalised.  “Do you want to come?”

He heard shuffling on the other end as he played with the napkin on the bar top. Funnily enough, despite his mind feeling pleasantly numb, he still felt twinges of anxiety in his stomach.

“Where even are you?” you finally asked. He was too drunk to notice the coldness in your voice.

“Sid took us to some bar,” he replied. “In Oslo.”

While you were relieved that Sid hadn’t driven them out of Norway before Jungkook even performed here, you also felt concerned that Jungkook was so disoriented that he needed to remind you of the city you were in.

“Are the rest of the guys there?” you asked. His friends were useless, of course, but perhaps Minjun could be trusted to take care of Jungkook if he blacked out.

“They’re downstairs,” he answered. “There’s some club. I didn’t want to go, so I called you. Do you want to come?”

You were confused by the repeated question—was this a matter of you wanting to come, or were you obligated to come as his manager?

He sensed your apprehension through the phone despite being intoxicated.

“I’m trying to see you,” he explained, his tongue struggling to bend the right way. All his Rs sounded like sloppy Ls and Ws. “You weren’t there when I looked for you earlier today.” You heard a bang – he’d slammed his palm against the bar top, forcing the nearby glasses to rattle – and he continued, whining now, “why are you so difficult for me to find?!”

“You’re drunk,” you stated in response. “And you’re not making any sense. Can you find your way to the bus, or do I have to pick you up?”

Half-mumbling, half-whining something incoherent, Jungkook leaned his arms on the bar top. He rested his head on them and pressed his phone against his ear harder as if that’d make you understand him better, make you enter his head somehow.

“You should come,” he said. “I’ll order for you.”

“How about you tell me exactly where you are first,” you replied.

He did – to the best of his ability in his current state – but Google Maps could hardly help you find the directions for “then we took two left turns and came up in front of his huge red brick building, might have been brown, I’m really drunk.” Finally, you managed to get him to just send you his pinned location and headed over there.

He stayed on his phone after you hung up, opening the Notes app and scrolling through his older notes to pass the time.

Some of them were lists of things he wanted to remember – films to see, songs to listen to – while others were harder to decipher: drunken reminders he had made for himself and forgotten as soon as he sobered up.

Some of the notes were song lyrics, and some were just your name—he’d begun to type out a message? a letter? and abandoned it, scared of the weight your name alone carried—and his finger lingered on those for a minute before he pressed the New Note button and began typing immediately.

Normally, he didn’t write lyrics when he was drunk. Tipsy, maybe—one of Rated Riot’s most popular singles was born after he and Yoongi tried absinthe for the first time at one of the label’s parties last year—but never so drunk that the room felt wobbly.

He kept pressing the wrong buttons on the keyboard and autocorrect kept making it worse; shocking even his drunk mind with how completely wrong the corrections were.

But he managed to get two full lines – I fucking miss you when I drink / You burn my throat when I sing – and he stared at them for a minute, a deep frown on his face.

He hated it. Deleting the words with angry force on the backspace button, he began typing again, feeling furiously alone with every passing minute that you didn’t come—and knowing that when you did come, you would be you. And he couldn’t love you the way he did.

For years, even when he thought—hoped—that the feelings he had for you were not real, even as he insisted to his friends that he couldn’t possibly still love you, even as he tried to meet someone new despite only seeing faint echoes of your absence on every face, even then he wrote about you each time that his mind wandered.

You continued to be the subject of his music, the lyrical lover in every song he wrote.

Now, as he entered line after line, the lyrics writing themselves as he watched the screen, he could feel his heart thumping in his chest—as drunk as his mind was.

When the absence of you is all that inspires / I allow for the pain to turn into fires / It will burn when I write, when I think, when I sing / Flames will turn to ashes, turn to words, turn to ink

He held his phone with one hand as he folded and unfolded a napkin with the other one, reading the words and then re-reading them again.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He needed Namjoon to take a look at this—the producer knew better—before he could show it to anyone else. Especially before he sent it to—

Jungkook jumped up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and his vision seemed to brighten when he recognised you.

“I came as quickly as I could,” you said, out of breath as if you had run all the way here. You took a seat on the stool next to him at the bar, using his shoulder to steady yourself as you climbed onto it. “Where’s your tail?”

Even drunk, he understood you meant his friends.

“Downstairs,” he said, nodding his head towards the door leading to the staircase in the back. “Drinks?”

You assessed him. He didn’t appear to be in need of having his stomach pumped, but he was slouched over the bar, tightly clutching his phone in his hand, which was a good indicator that the night should have ended there.

“I think it’d be better to—”

“Strawberry daiquiri,” he said loudly—to the bartender, but it took you a second to realise that—then he turned to you for confirmation. “Right?”

“I’m not drinking,” you replied firmly enough for him to give you a long look.

“Why not?” he asked. The bartender politely waited for your consent before he started to make the cocktail. “You’re not driving.”

You swallowed. There were many – countless, really – reasons why not. You were confused about yesterday, confused about Nick’s offer, confused about what you were doing here tonight.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even, and very out of character for someone like you. You knew you shouldn’t dive head first into this, not after what happened—what didn’t happen—yesterday.

But you gave the bartender a light nod.

“One drink,” you said. “And we’re going back.”

But, of course, going back is not at all what you did.

Jungkook, his highball, your daiquiri, and you all found yourselves on the empty terrace on the roof not ten minutes later.

It was a relatively warm night, but it was the empty space, the dark night and the faint scent of rain that captivated you more than the warmth. It was so beautiful here; very hard not to be grateful to be alive on a night like this. And you realised you didn’t blame Jungkook for making you come here, after all.

“What were you doing before I came?” you spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the night.

Jungkook took a sip from his glass and placed it on the small round table between your patio chairs.

“Writing,” he said.

You were surprised. “Writing?”

“Yeah.”

“As in, song lyrics?”

“Yeah,” he repeated. Then—his mind travelling a thousand miles per hour—he added, “you know, I wrote “Haunting” about you.”

Weirdly enough, while alcohol made most people sleepy or, at least slower, it seemed to ignite Jungkook’s mind instead. He wanted to see your reaction when he said this. Wanted, even drunk, to see if there was a reason for him to worry.

Meanwhile, you needed a moment to process what he’d just said and, even then, you weren’t entirely sure if you understood him.

“I—you did?” you stumbled, awkward.

“Yes.”

You looked away, the song fresh in your mind, because it wasn’t just the first Rated Riot song that you’d heard. It was also one of your favourites. You loved the ethereal melody—a strong focus on piano, the guitars reduced to the background and the bass only joining in on the chorus—and Jungkook’s raw vocals as he sang about resisting his dark urges.

You knew all of Rated Riot’s lyrics—hearing their songs every night paid off, but you’d have been lying if you said you didn’t like to listen to them in your free time as well—but it was the first verse and, particularly, the breathy, pained voice with which Jungkook sang it that always tugged at your heart:

It's wandering in my mind / It's haunting my daydreams / I follow after it, blind / I fall apart at the seams

After a minute, you finally spoke—awkward as you explained the meaning of his own lyrics to him, “I always thought it was about… well, searching for thrills even though that’s not good for you.”

“It is,” Jungkook said. “The beginning is. But the chorus is about you.”

Before you could ask anything else, he mouthed the lyrics under his breath so quietly that you were unsure if you weren’t only imagining him singing it since you’d listened to the song so many times before.

Can I find you when I break? / Can I find you when it’s too much? / Can you forgive all my mistakes? / Can you save me with your touch?

Jungkook had written plenty of songs on his own, but from what you’d heard in the studio, his lyrics used to be too abstract. That was the main reason why Namjoon used to scold him.

“It lacks feeling!” he’d shout, agitated by his own expectations for the vocalist. “It’s like you’re singing about a bag of bricks!”

You knew that many of Jungkook’s early songs didn’t have a specific subject in mind. In this particular case, you assumed he was singing about someone—anyone, really—extending a helping hand or providing a shoulder to lean on. It was a comforting song, nothing more than that.

Jungkook was almost grateful for the surprise on your face—he was worried you’d tell him that you knew. He’d always thought it was obvious that this song was about you. After all, you were the only one who was always there for him.

And, in any case, who else would he write about if not you? As soon as he was criticised for lacking emotion in his lyrics, he started to write from experience. And you were his experience.

But, of course, you didn’t think to look for yourself in his lyrics. You didn’t want to find yourself there.

And now you weren’t sure what the appropriate response was when someone told you they wrote a song about you. “Thank you” didn’t seem sufficient, because the song was about you, not for you. “I love it” also didn’t capture it, because you didn’t love it because it was about you. You just did.

So, you remained silent, watching the lights on the skyscraper across the street and the reflection of the dark clouds in the dark windows. The people behind them were likely asleep, resting before they started their day in a few hours.

“I think…” Jungkook began, his sentence ending sooner than he’d expected. His eyes were glossy when you looked at him. “I think I’m writing about you again.”

You swallowed and nervously bit your lower lip. The night was warm, but the wind on the roof was relentless. You couldn’t help shivering.

Your mind was running before you could stop it. You didn’t want to resume your conversation from Stockholm; it had managed to be too much by not being nearly enough. You couldn’t return there again.

But you still asked, “what were you writing?”

“About missing you.”

You sat there, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your dark jeans with the tip of your index finger. You tried to suppress the anticipation building in your stomach before it could fully manifest. Before it could turn into a terrifying disappointment. Before it could show you that you were lying to yourself when you said you’d moved on.

“Please don’t ask me why I’m doing this now,” Jungkook said in a strained whisper.

Your voice faltered as you said, “I won’t.”

“J-just so you know, I felt the same way back home,” he said. “The only difference is that here in Europe, you have no choice but to be around me.”

The implication was clear, even if his voice wasn’t accusing you of anything. He believed you were only spending time with him because your job required you to.

“I don’t… avoid you back home,” you defended weakly—the only way you knew how right now.

Last night, you’d told him you missed him and it didn’t end well. Actually, it didn’t end at all—it sort of hung over you and made this conversation uncomfortable. Like a scratchy sweater, rubbing on your skin in all the wrong ways.

“I know,” he said. “But you never put in special effort to see me, either.”

You took a sip of your cocktail, tossing your head back to finish it.

Placing the glass back down on the table between your seats, you finally said, “I didn’t know you wanted me to, until you brought it up the other day.”

“Yeah. I know that, too,” Jungkook said sadly. His moves mirrored yours as he picked his glass up, but stopped before bringing it to his lips. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. About Stockholm.”

The pounding of your heart was very loud, and your voice was very quiet.

“What are you sorry for?” you asked.

He looked down. “There were a lot of things I wanted to say to you, but I… didn’t know how. It got kind of, um, weird.”

He scoffed at his own choice of words, and you realised that you weren’t alone on this rooftop. There was Discomfort, Awkwardness, and Avoidance dancing around you two.

“It…” you began, but words didn’t come easy. “It shouldn’t have been weird.”

He shook his head. He was worried that this would happen. Worried that you’d take responsibility for last night. You’d say you were the manager, so you should have known better. Should have set stricter boundaries. Should have never crossed them.

Now, you added tentatively, “I-I mean, we’re friends, right?”

You could have smashed your glass on his head and that would have hurt less than the cursed word.

This wasn’t about friendship and you both knew it.

But you needed to feel better. Last night had scared you, he could tell as much. And now you needed to make sense of it. You needed to find a way to interpret it in a way that felt right to your standards.

Normally, he would have helped you. Anything to make you feel comfortable, that’s all he wanted anyway.

But, tonight, he was drunk. And so in love with you that it hurt.

“I don’t know what we are,” he said.

Your hands were restless as you tapped your fingers on your legs.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” you said. “For us to be friends.”

“It is what I want, but it’s also—it’s much more than just—I’m sorry.” He slid his palms over his cheeks and pressed his hands together against his lips. “I don’t know how to—I could never put my thoughts into words in a way that wouldn’t be too much. Or too little.”

He thought that if his friends would have been here, they would have laughed. Four years he’s wanted you, waited for you, but pretended he didn’t.

Clearly, he needed lessons on how to openly discuss his feelings.

He inhaled—or tried to, anyway—and picked up his drink. You took this as an opportunity to look at him.

“You’re, um—you’re good at putting them into song lyrics, though,” you said.

He chuckled weakly and placed his empty glass down next to yours. There was Sadness, too, twirling on the rooftop. And faint traces of Regret.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I’ll write another song about how much I want you.”

You inhaled too sharply to appear nonchalant. The consecutive “another song” and “I want you” pulsated painfully in your chest.

Alarmed by the sound of your breathing, Jungkook turned to look at you.

“I—sorry,” he said, reading your expression. “I can’t say that, right?”

The fingers of your right hand nervously grasped at the fingers of your left. You regretted not wearing longer clothing that you could pull on.

“No, you, um—well, you can say whatever you feel,” you said. “I just, uh… you know that I can’t say it back.”

He observed your fidgeting and initially interpreted it as discomfort. But now he believed it to be something else—a more prominent emotion, brought on by something other than just this conversation.

Uncertainty.

You said you couldn’t say it back. You meant that you weren’t allowed to, as his manager.

But you didn’t say that you didn’t want to say it back.

His voice trembled when he spoke, the words pouring out in one breath, “but what if we weren’t working together? What if we were somewhere in Oslo, on the roof of some bar, just the two of us? And this fucking never-ending Scandinavian wind, of course,” he paused when he saw a small smile make its way to your lips. “But the wind isn’t telling anyone anything, either. Wh-what would you say then?”

You looked up as if you could actually see the wind. You didn’t know what scared you more: thinking what it’d be like if you weren’t working together—because a few hours ago, that possibility seemed almost real—or admitting your thoughts out loud.

It returned, the heaviness of anticipation that you’d felt last night. You were very naïve to think you could stop it from coming back. To think you could quench the wishful thinking.

This anticipation seemed to control you more than you could control it.

“I’d say that this wind feels like we’re back on campus, loudly talking about our mid-terms and chasing after loose papers that wind had blown out of our hands,” you said. There was a reluctant, nostalgic smile on your face. “Then returning to my dorm room and listening to my neighbours argue about their dead plant, even though they’re both guilty of not looking after it. T-this feels like back then.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked near desperately.

You exhaled, but did not reply. Your skin tingled with pins and needles.

“It’s me,” he said, his tone gentler now. “There’s no one else here.”

And there it was – the moment that didn’t come in Stockholm.

Dizzy, you said, “I feel the same way as I did back then.”

Jungkook held his breath.

“I really need you to tell me,” he pleaded, “what way.”

You pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and focused on suppressing the goosebumps that arose on every part of your skin that his eyes touched.

“Just… exhilarated. From life. From love,” you spoke, your eyes fluttering to him. Frightened by the intensity of his gaze as he watched you, you looked back at the edge of the roof. “From you.”

You heard his breath quiver.

“Look at me,” he asked in a stern, yet powerless whisper.

You did—and he forgot what he was going to say.

He felt like you were both back there again, too. Like nothing had changed—because nothing had, not fundamentally—like he could reach out and you’d be there. Providing him with the noise he needed to not feel alone, and the comfort he needed to not feel overwhelmed.

Neither of you realised that he had leaned in until you felt the warmth of his breath—laced with a strong scent of whiskey—on your lips. Until your lungs started to burn from holding your breath so hard. Until you parted your lips slightly and the oxygen that slipped in was so full of echoes of his taste that you felt the roof turning upside down.

He closed his eyes as he lingered millimetres away from you, the close proximity putting you both in a trance so painfully blissful that not connecting your lips seemed almost sacrilegious.

You were hypnotised, too overwhelmed by the familiarity of the feeling—the barely thereness of his lips against yours—to think of anything else.

You couldn’t pull away.

But, in a blind panic, he was the one who did.

Blinking in surprise as he moved away, you found yourself frozen, eyes locked on the empty space in front of you.

Jungkook stared at the ground, breathless and wide-eyed.

Even drunk, he couldn’t do this.

There was Minjun’s face in his head—his initial discomfort the first time he found out about the bet. There was the conversation in the bar—and the cake metaphor, even though Jungkook thought he neither had the cake, nor could he eat it. There was Sid in his head, too—his smug grin as he insisted Jungkook would lose.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could hear white noise in place of thoughts, and something else, too—his own screams.

What did I do, what did I do, what did I do, what did I—

You couldn’t hear his attempts to inhale because as soon as he pulled away, your own thoughts grew louder. The realisation of what had happened again—what had almost happened again—was so strong, it almost pushed you down to the floor. You had to grip your chair not to double over from the weight of it.

You knew he was drunk, despite seemingly sobering up a bit on the roof. And he pulled away. Meanwhile, you’d had a few drinks tonight and you were going to let him—were waiting for him to—kiss you.

Somehow, he’d managed to exhibit more rationality while intoxicated, than you could while nearly sober.

You stood up.

Pausing for a second as you debated if you should give him an excuse for why you were leaving, you mumbled something about calling him a taxi, and walked away without turning back.

The door slammed shut behind you, but Jungkook still didn’t dare to lift his gaze. He was too focused on clenching his fists so he wouldn’t throw the empty glasses down the side of the roof.

Alone on the staircase, you welcomed the emotion that had trailed after you all the way from Sweden.

You were angry.

But not at this. Not at what could’ve happened and didn’t. Not at him, not for leaning in, and not for pulling away.

You were angry at yourself. For letting yourself wish for something you shouldn’t have wished for. And for feeling disappointed when your wish didn’t come true.

Twice, you’ve found yourself on the edge of almost. Twice.

Last night, you’d told him it was easy to get overwhelmed by all the memories that your time together has brought back. But perhaps it wasn’t him who got overwhelmed. Perhaps it was you.

Perhaps seeing each other so often had blurred the lines, and you found yourself forgetting. Found yourself yearning. Hoping.

But the fact remained—and you repeated it in your head over and over again as you climbed the stairs down from the roof, clutching the railing as if your life depended on it—you broke up for a reason. You broke up for a reason. You broke up for a reason.

It was shocking how little that reason mattered when you closed your eyes in the taxi ten minutes later, and all you could picture was what it would’ve been like if you’d been the one to close the distance between your lips tonight.

And as thoughts of Reconnaissance and Nick’s offer returned to your mind on the ride back, you wondered if tonight was a pro or a con.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “careful what you wish for”

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[itsthewritergal]

Five Dates - B.Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky got the wrong end of the stick and might have fucked things up for good.

TW: Sex work, swearing, Bucky being judgmental, talk about sex, talk about porn, no smut but it is mentioned. angst. (let me know if I've missed anything) - it's not proof read... so I'm sorry!!

(If you like it please tip me and help to support me as a creator :))

Five dates. Bucky had to remind himself that he and Y/N had only been on five dates. He felt as though he had known her for his whole life, almost as if Y/N bought his old self back to the surface. Five dates, he shook his head as a reminder, she knew a lot of his life but not nearly everything. It was only five dates, he took a deep breath as Y/N studied the dessert menu, 

“Brownie or cheesecake?” She asked softly, her forehead crinkling as she tried to decide, 

“Either’s fine with me” Bucky said, he’d go with anything she chose just to see her smile. But she wasn’t smiling, instead she had placed the menu down on the table and looked at Bucky with sad eyes, 

“Buck?” She said softly 

“Y/N?” He mirrored in the same tone 

“Could you please say what you would prefer? You’ve let me pick at the last two places” She huffed 

“I’m sorry Y/N, you know I just want to see you happy” He said softly picking up one of her hands, 

“Please pick?” She asked, looking up at Bucky with pleading eyes, he pressed a kiss to her hand and nodded 

“Lets go brownie” Bucky said, knowing that he would definitely prefer the cheesecake, or just some ice cream but Y/N loved chocolate so naturally he leaned towards that option. 

“Perfect!” Y/N beamed calling over the waitress and asking for the dessert, Bucky smiled as she did so. He truly was in love. 

—

Bucky stopped outside Y/N’s apartment door, he had argued for her to let him walk her home after she had refused because it would be too late for Bucky to get home to his own apartment, knowing it was at least an hour walk. But of course, Bucky had refused and wanted to make sure Y/N was safe. 

“Would you like to come in?” She asked softly, holding on to Bucky’s hand, looking up at him with tired eyes, 

“You’re tired doll, you need some sleep” Bucky said gently, “Go to bed, and I can call you in the morning” 

“What if you stayed over? We could watch a movie and I can sleep on the sofa so you don’t need to feel uncomfortable. It’s late and I’ll feel awful if you have to walk home now” She said, watching Bucky hopefully “of course if it would make you uncomfortable we don’t have to” She said quickly 

“I’d love that doll, and we can share the bed too if you’re comfortable, or I can take the sofa, it’s only fair?” He suggested, the thought of Y/N sleeping on the sofa physically hurting his heart, a sensation he wasn’t used to. 

“Let’s share, it’ll be like a sleepover! Ooh I think I have some snacks too” She beamed tiredly leading Bucky into her apartment. 

Bucky stepped inside slowly following Y/N’s lead, it smelt like vanilla, and sugar, warm lighting flooded the room as Y/N turned on her fairy lights and lamps. It wasn’t big, just two rooms really, Bucky knew it was only a small apartment so he wasn’t expecting much but the moment he stepped inside he could already picture himself living there. 

“My room is just through there, I’ll get us some snacks if you want to pick a movie? Remote is on the bed” She smiled pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, a move that she hadn’t done before and one that made Bucky’s heart squeeze with joy, 

“Sure you don’t need help?” He asked, wanting to soak up every possible moment he could with Y/N

“No, go get comfy and I’ll be there in a second” She said

— 

Bucky did as he was told and took himself through to Y/N’s bedroom which was exactly how he had imaged, a soft pink blanket lay over her white silk sheets, a couple of house plants sat on the windowsill soaking up the moonlight. Y/N’s bedroom was totally normal apart from two big cinema cameras pointed towards the bed.  Bucky felt his whole word collapse the second he registered what they were. Sam had told him about this, a few months back but Bucky remembers the whole conversation. Sam had told him about ways many people had started making money, and Bucky couldn’t believe that Y/N was attempting to make Bucky help her with it. He knew that there would be an ‘adult’ market for those type of films including him, he had seen enough tweets, texts and had been sent enough letters to know there was a large following of women who wanted to know more about how he was in the bedroom particularly. It made him feel sick. Y/N was using him. She was using him for his body. Squaring out his shoulders he gripped his jacket tight and headed back out into her lounge. 

“Y/N, I’ve got to run. Sam just texted, he needs me over there. Some kind of emergency. I’m so sorry” He lied smoothly, knowing that Y/N wouldn’t see through it, he was too good for that. 

“Oh” She sighed, her sad eyes almost made Bucky regret his decision until he remembered what she was trying to do. “Do you need me to come with you? Is Sam okay?” She asked quickly, 

“No, it’s fine. I just really need to go” Bucky said, stepping closer to the door “I had a nice night, but I just don’t think this is going to work, I’m not feeling this. I should go.” He suggested knowing that the moment he was on his way to Sam’s he’d block her number.

“I understand, I’ll see you around I guess?” She said wrapping her arms around herself as she watched Bucky leave her apartment

Setting off on a run he headed straight to Sam’s. 

—

“You’re kidding” Sam said with a laugh as he passed Bucky a beer, “She was a porn-star?” He chuckled 

“It’s not funny, I think she wanted to get me to do a video with her” He said with a huff 

“Well you know there’s a big market for winter soldier porn, do you remember that women who sent you her panties” Sam laughed “To be honest, from the photos she sent you should have taken her up on those offers” He said with a grin, Bucky knew he was teasing 

“Don’t be crude” Bucky said, hating the way this conversation was going “I don’t have a problem with it, if she does do it, but trying to get me to do it with her?” He sighed,

“Do you think she’s really was trying to?” Sam asked seriously taking a sip of his beer 

“It was all set up for it, mood lighting, background all perfectly set and the fucking camera’s Sam! IT makes sense now why she would never tell me about her work” Bucky said, 

“Let’s google her, I bet her videos will come up. We can see what she’s like, and maybe you could join in” Sam said with a wink. Pulling up his laptop and typing in her name. 

After a few quick clicks Sam’s face fell 

“Is it bad?” Bucky questioned 

“You are a dick” 

“What?” Bucky asked feeling instantly defensive at Sam’s accusatory tone 

“She’s not a fucking porn star you idiot. She’s a influencer” Sam said turning the laptop around and showing Bucky Y/N’s YouTube page, hundreds of videos showed up of her chatting to the camera, and sitting doing her makeup. 

“An influencer?” 

“Yes, you really screwed up there Buck. She looks like the most wholesome girl out there” Sam said clicking onto a video. 

“Hello my loves, welcome back to my channel.” Sam skipped forward in the video “What is your love life like? Well that’s a very good question, that finally has a more exciting answer, I have actually met someone, it’s very early days and we’ve only been on two dates so far, but oh he’s so wonderful!” She beamed, Bucky could practically feel his heart dropping as he heard her gushing about him 

“Sam, how do I fix this?” He asked, pulling out his phone 

“I think you need to explain what’s happened” He said “I mean she might not want to hear you out, sounds like you were kind of a dick” Sam admitted 

“Not helping” Bucky said pressing on her number, the phone call rung a few times, and then stopped 

“Hello?” Y/N’s voice said through the phone, she sounded upset, Bucky hated it 

“Hey Y/N, it’s Bucky” he said quickly 

“Is everything ok?” She asked, her tone was curt something Bucky wasn’t used to from her 

“Can I come over?” 

“Bucky I’m really not in the mood right now” She said honestly 

“I fucked up”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Please can I come over?” He asked 

“I guess” She said quietly, 

“I’ll be there in fifteen” 

—

Bucky sat on Y/N’s sofa, his jacket and shoes still on. Y/N had made him a coffee and was sat away from him on one of her beanbags, 

“I’m so sorry Y/N” He said 

“What’s going on Bucky?” She asked 

“I saw the cameras and thought you were a” he coughed, still not used to the modern open way of talking about porn “a porn-star” he said 

“So what if I am” She challenged,

“I thought you were trying to use me for a video, there’s a um, well there’s a demand for it” He said “I get a few letters a month from women who want to see, uh who, want to see that” he stammered 

“You thought I was using you?” She said 

“I did, and I went to Sam and we, well we googled you” 

“So you know I’m not a porn star then? Just a boring old influencer” She huffed crossing her arms 

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions” 

“No you shouldn’t have, I thought you’d know me well enough to know I wouldn’t use you” She snapped 

“I was wrong and I’m so sorry” he said quickly “Please Y/N give me another chance” 

“One more Bucky, and I’m going to show you every single paper that I can find on why sex work is real work, I understand that you’re not used to it. But that doesn’t mean you can be that judgemental about it” 

“I swear I will read everything you give me” Bucky said 

“One more chance” she said 

“You won’t regret it” Bucky promised. 

[maybxlle]

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭 .ᐟ

masterlist | home | rules

contains: general jason grace headcanons

warnings: use of yn and language probably

author's note: first hcs! (probs gonna suck 😜)

ooh i dunno how to start

ok this man is so caring an gentle oH ID DIE

this whole thing started with me thinking

“this man would definitely play with your hair”

he would be the calm to your crazy

the smart to your dumb

the peanut butter to your jelly

you guys probs go on picnic dates 🤷‍♀️

i don’t make the rules

he loves to make big, sweeping, grand gestures

like the time he asked you out for the first time

he literally came to your cabin

knocked on the door

in a full suit

one of your siblings opened the door tho

“um, do you need something?”

“is yn here?”

“yes…?”

“can i talk to her?”

you lugged yourself out of your cabin

“why are you in a suit? it’s like 80 degrees.”

he looked up, and realized he forgot something

he ran back with a huge sign that said “you’re obsessed with flowers and i’m obsessed with you, will you go on a date with me?”

then he pulled a bouquet out of his ass

you were about cry, this man did all that to ask you out?

finally you said of course while laughing your ass off

he released an audible sigh of relief

“oh i was so worried”

“…i could tell”

he loves to smother you

he isn’t called mother for any other reason

“do you need anything honey? a cough drop, back massage, human sacrifice?”

“I SNEEZED ONE TIME”

passenger princess 👑

every single time

then he opens the door for you

if anyone even looks at you the wrong way-

yeah

he would not let you buy anything

“oh you want that? lemme buy it for you”

“i can pay-”

“PUT YOUR GODDAMN WALLET AWAY WOMAN”

ok maybe a bit of exaggeration

everytime yall go out he buys you food

he read somewhere (facebook probably) a fed partner is a happy partner

it works tho

the only thing i’m not sure about is you guys would have a golden retriever or a grimy cat that only warms up to him

eh

ok that’s it (my brain hurts)

[sinsandsweetness]

Please for the love of god write something about Rick chasing the reader down in the woods I’d DIE

(Rick and Daryl x fem!reader)

cw- reader already has a baby with the boys, reader being chased in a maze, threesome, smut, slight breeding kink… think that’s all…

notes- happy Halloween! This is a fun little one shot placed in Alexandria. It is a follow up of “taking turns” however you don’t need to read it to read this. It’s just the same relationship, a couple years later. I had a few requests for a follow up and for some chasing/hunting vibes so… here you go! I won’t lie this is a bit rushed and not proofread at all so I apologize for any errors or if it’s not my best… but i hope you enjoy and tell me what you think<3

“Alright,” Rick breathes out with a sigh, dropping the large box onto the ground. Daryl right behind him with another.

The kids run over. Judith, at just 4 years old, Gracie, Sam, Carl and a few of the older kids and teens in Alexandria. Your own baby coos in your arms. Incoherent, yet adorable babbles leave her mouth, with chubby little hands grabbing into the air in the direction of her daddy.

While Rick cuts open the cardboard box of costumes, Daryl sneaks away from the cluster of children, all way too excited to get their hands on a cape and a mask. Or a dress and a tiara.

“C’mhere, sweetheart,” he grabs your daughter from your arms. Immediately she’s smiling all big and giggling into his jacket.

“Were you good for your mama while I was gone?” He whispers against her dark curls before pressing a kiss to her head.

“She just missed you, I think.” You respond. In reality, she was fussy. You figured that would happen after two nights without her dad. Daryl definitely being her favourite parent.

The kids are noisy as they ooh and awe and fight over the Halloween costumes.

Rick finally makes his own escape with a costume cowboy hat on his head.

“Hey, officer,” you tip your head up for a kiss as he wraps his arms around your waist. Eager to hug you. To touch you.

He stays holding you for a moment. Just soaking in your warmth.

“Miss me?”

“Every minute.” He confirms against your mouth for one last kiss, before moving to kiss your daughters cheek.

“How’s our little princess?” He asks to no one in particular.

“She missed her daddies. Kept me up all night.”

“What?” Rick faked a shocked tone, “our little princess would never. That doesn’t sound like her at all, does it?” He runs his hand over her hair and plants a kiss on her head.

You roll your eyes but your smile peaks out anyway. The sight of your men being such good fathers will never fail to make you smile.

“Daddy! Daddy look!” Judith’s high pitched voice brings attention as she tugs at Ricks pant leg.

When the three of you turn to look, she’s dressed in a unicorn onesie. Adorable. A bit warm for the weather. But adorable.

Rick picks her up with a groan, “oh my goodness, almost too big for this, aren’t you?”

She nuzzles into Ricks chest, little arms wrapping around his neck.

“I think someone needs a little snooze before all the festivities tonight, hm? You feelin’ a little tired, Judy?” He asks her. You don’t hear anything but you see the white fluffy ears on her hood move up and down as she nods into her fathers shirt.

“This little rascal should have one too.” You nod towards your own sleepy girl, “I can go put em’ both down for a nap.”

“Nah, I’ll do it.” Daryl insists.

“Are you sure-“

“I’ve got it.” He scoops Judith up in one arm, balanced on his hip and very happy to be carried to bed. A snuggly little 6 month old on his other. He starts off upstairs and leaves you and Rick in the living room. Surrounded by a foam sword fight battle that appears to have ensued between a couple ninja turtles and a fairy Princess.

The whole reason for Rick and Daryl’s last run was to find these costumes. Among other Halloween decorations and as much candy as they could salvage. Anything to make it a special day. To show the kids what things used to be like. To remind the ones who did know, exactly how fun the holidays were. You weren’t even sure it was Halloween. Sure, the leaves were beautiful tones of orange and yellow, falling to the ground and crunching beneath your shoes. But you arent sure what day it was. Honestly, you arent entirely sure what month it is. However, according to Eugene’s calendar, It is in fact the 31st of October.

Ricks head tips low to your ear and he whispers an invitation to go shower. He needs to clean up. And he really wouldn’t mind some company.

“Carol,” he turns for a moment and nods to her in the kitchen, prepping some food for tonight. “Can you…” he motions to the living room full of children running around. Carol nods and you can hear her telling them to beat it and go play outside while you’re led up the stairs by the hand.

—

The party is supposed to start at 7. Carol offered to take your daughter for the night, to give you some time off. To have fun. To go to sleep early if that’s what you wanted.

It’s a bit cold out. So you’re in a cream knit sweater and some jeans. A pair of cheap bunny ears are on your head. Your daughter is dressed in the smallest costume you could find in the box, a plush orange carrot. And she’s the cutest carrot you’ve ever seen, that’s for sure.

There’s wine. Lots. And food. And candy. Eugene is setting up a spooky film to be played on a projecter in the middle of Alexandria. A few bonfires surround the yard, scattered with jack-o-lanterns. Carved and lit up with tea lights and glowing eyes.

It’s beautiful. Slightly spooky. And so familiar. It’s everything you remember about Halloween.

An arm snaking around your waist startles you as you sip on your wine. But the smell of smoke and leather soothes you quickly.

“Hey,” Daryl says. You turn to face him, only slightly confused as his voice is being muffled by something.

He’s wearing a mask. A scream mask more specifically. The rest of his attire is typical. His leather jacket on, though no vest tonight. Dark jeans and boots.

“Mmm, spooky.” You lean in and press a quick peck to the white plastic. You can’t see him smile under the mask, but you know it’s there.

Another arm wraps around your waist from the other side. It’s Rick. You know by the thick brown jacket brushing against you. He’s also in costume, wearing a Friday the 13th hockey mask.

“Well hello, Jason,” you tease.

“You scared yet?”

“Should I be?” You ask. Though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

Rick opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by some commotion from the yard.

Eugene has a microphone, standing on a picnic table and telling the crowd to sit down and get comfy. That the movie will be starting in two minutes.

“Well, are you two ready for some Hocus Pocus?” You ask.

They look at eachother through the masks. What the hell are they plotting?

“What…?” You finally ask.

“We were thinking… maybe we could do something a little different.”

“What, you wanna watch something else?”

“Not quite,” Daryl chimes in, “we were thinking that while everyone is watching the movie, the three of us can make our way through the corn maze.”

The maze is outside the walls of Alexandria. A bit dangerous, but it was part of the fun. The kids had all had their turns in it earlier in the day, heavily supervised by adults and parents. Ones with weapons and training for situations outside the safety of the walls.

“You want us to all get lost in the maze?” You bite your bottom lip and smile.

“We want you to get lost in the maze,” Daryl corrects you.

Rick dips down to your ear and lowers his voice, “and we’ll try and find you. Play a little game.”

“Grown up hide and seek?” You ask. Heat raising to your cheeks at the thought of what they want to do once they find you.

“Exactly.”

You swallow, looking back to the yard where the kids are all lid out in sleeping bags and on blankets. Focused on the film playing in the dark.

“Ok.”

“We’ll give you a two minute head start,” Rick hands you a switch blade. Just incase. Nodding towards the back fence, where you know you can sneak out without being caught. Your heart is already starting to race a little at the thought of having to hide. At the thought of them searching for you. Hunting you down. And Daryl’s little comment when you start off towards the fence doesn’t help either,

“Good luck, little bunny.”

—

It’s pitch black when you reach the maze. Actually, as soon as you made it over the wall and into the woods, it was dark. But inside the maze, the stalks of corn all towering over 10 feet tall and fluttering creepily in the breeze. The only light you can see is a faint glow from the moon. And even then, it’s only when you’re out of the shadows.

You walk into the maze. Immediately met by multiple twists and turns. You weren’t one of the supervisors earlier, so you really didn’t know the route. The straw and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk further into the maze. A quick, brisk walk trying to find the best place to hide. Or, if you’re lucky, to find the end of the maze before the boys even get in.

But you know that’s unrealistic. And you’re sure your two minutes must be up because you can hear them. Footsteps and muffled voices behind a couple walls of corn. Shit.

You start to walk faster. A borderline jog at this point, trying to keep your footing light.

It didn’t occur to you until now how easy it’ll be for them to find you. Daryl’s a hunter for Christ sake. He’ll be able to track your path through the maze in no time.

They’re closer.

Fuck.

You have to run. You can hear their voices. They’re so close.

“You’re gonna have to be quicker than that, baby.” Ricks voice rings out towards you. He’s on the other side of the wall. Through the thick corn stalks and the pitch black of the night, you can’t make out exactly where he is. But he’s close.

You run.

And they follow right after.

The sound of their footsteps is clearer and clearer the further away from Alexandria you get. And the further into the maze.

You shriek at the feeling of a hand on your sweater, jolting forward and starting to sprint. It was Daryl. He’s behind you.

And though him and Rick are both stronger, you have one advantage. You’re faster.

Over your shoulder as you sprint you can see them. White masks still on, glowing in the moonlight.

“Fuck”, you swear to yourself when you

come to a dead end. You only have two options. Turn around, or be caught. They couldn’t be more than a few seconds away.

Without really thinking, you shove your way through the stalks. Catching on every leaf and stick, but ultimately coming out the other side without a scrape.

You can’t celebrate your quick thinking victory too long because you still hear them.

“Split up,” Daryl whisper shouts at his friend, and with their footsteps scattered, it’s even harder to tell where they are.

Fuck.

You keep going. You take a left. And then a right and another dead end. Shit. Is this … is this the same one?

You turn back and take the left instead. But it’s another dead end.

What the fuck?

You’re lost. You don’t even know what direction you came from anymore. Circling the same two dead ends before you finally take a right that leads you a couple meters further than the other options.

You hear a stick crack on the ground behind you, but there’s no time to see who it is.

You turn the corner fast with your heartbeat so loud it drums in your ears.

“Shit,” you stumble right into a brown jacket in front of you. Arms wrapping around you and picking you up. You scream.

Someone warm presses against your back as your feet touch the floor again.

You’re trapped.

“Gotcha,” Daryl’s gravelly voice is already in your ear.

You’re breathing heavy in their hold, sandwiched between the two men.

Their hands grab at your sweater and start to roam.

“Take this off,” a voice demands as you struggle against their arms,

You try for a moment to reach the mask covering Ricks face. But Daryl, or maybe Rick’s, hands are clamped on your wrist.

It’s claustrophobic, but you don’t entirely mind. As long as it’s their arms your trapped between, you’ll never complain.

They don’t kiss you. They can’t. But everything about their demeanour is screaming that they want you. That they want to be in you.

Hands gripping and tugging at your jeans. Your hands snake around Ricks neck in front of you as they peel your jeans down your legs. The air is cold and gives you goosebumps, but your legs wrap around his waist immediately. Daryl’s bulge pokes at your ass while his hand trails under your sweater to pinch your nipple. Ricks pants are tight as his own bulge rubs against the thin fabric of your panties. Your jeans long lost to the straw and dirt ground underneath you.

It doesn’t take long for them to get you how they need you.

Granted, the three of you did have a lot of practice. Your panties swiftly ripped off by the man behind you who wanted more access. The cold metal of both their belts hit your skin.

And with little preparation other than some spit and arousal, you’re stretched to the max with both men. Both holes filled with very little regard for your comfort.

They know you’d say something if it really hurt.

But it hurts so good. The pain of being so fucking full. Stretched to a limit you’d experienced over a dozen times, but no matter what, it just never gets any easier.

“Wanna kiss you,” your voice comes out in wet gasps, lips brushing the plastic of Ricks mask. One hand trying for Daryl’s hood, reaching awkwardly around. You need their touch. Their lips on your lips. Tongues tracing each-other and fighting for dominance.

They’d win.

They always do.

The three of you find a rhythm quickly. Hands on your thighs, holding you up and using you as leverage to pound as fast and hard as they could. Your moans and their grunts fill the air as pleasure starts to swirl low on your abdomen.

“Please,” your head tips back in ecstasy. “Please, please,”

“Please what, sweet girl?” The cold plastic of Daryl’s mask brushes your ear.

“Please- want- uh,” you’re interrupted by sharper thrusts from the two men, catching you off guard. Their both picking up their pace.

“Speak up, darling.” Rick demands, nails digging into your hips.

“Fill me up,” you gasp again. “Want it so bad, Rick, please.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the swirl in your stomach. The one that keeps getting warmer and warmer and warmer until-

“I’m cumming,” you tell them as a courtesy, but you don’t have to. The way you’re involuntarily clenching down around them gives you away far better than a couple raspy words.

“You really wanna get filled up, baby? Bred like the little bunny you are, huh?” Ricks words send you over the edge and a hand toys at the fluffy rabbit ears that are shockingly still secured on top of your head.

You’re out of words. Too stimulated to talk. So you just nod in agreement. Yes. Please. Please.

Their hips stutter to a stop and warm liquid seeps out to drool down your inner thigh.

Breathing heavy, you’re lowered back to the ground, colder now. without the friction of their bodies.

“Here,” Daryl grabs your jeans from the ground and dresses you again. His soft side peaking out now that he’s had his release. Your shoes are back on and your legs a little shaky, and finally, the boys finally take their masks off. The whites of their eyes are bright in the moonlight.

“You alright?” They both ask you as the three of you somehow manage to find your way back out of the maze.

“A little cold…” you smirk.

“But we didn’t-we didn’t scare you too bad right?”

“No.” You smile, “Don’t know if I could ever get that scared by you too love bugs.” You tease, arms wrapping around their waists and pulling them in close to you.

“Pfft,” Daryl brushes off the comment and Rick only smiles.

“Well if we didn’t scare you, then maybe next time we oughta try a little harder.”

“Next time?” You ask. The thought already going straight between your thighs.

The boys share a look over your shoulders that can only mean one thing.

“Hey, baby,” Rick catches your attention, hand guiding you towards the community gates by the small of your back as he searches in his jacket pocket for his keys. “You ever been to a house of mirrors?”

[squinch-depraved]

plllsssss write more for that virgin au i fell in love with it!! i would love to read about schlatt finding out about charlie by accident

ok here's how schlatt finds out about what went down between you and charlie, v short just to get us to the next part where our boy teddy gets to have some fun so stay tuned for that :3

charlie is just. unable to look schlatt in the eyes.

like, he feels so guilty.

even though he didn't technically do anything wrong, charlie feels horrible for breaking down and asking you to sleep with him

and he's got a few hickeys visible, despite his best efforts at covering them up

so ted's all, "ooh, someone got some this weekend!"

and he tries to get charlie to open up about it

but he just mumbles something about not wanting to talk about it and moves on

schlatt flags this as weird, but ted just shrugs and says charlie doesn't have to talk about it if he doesn't want to

but schlatt just can't move on from it.

charlie looks guilty.

he never looks guilty.

what did he do?

schlatt has to figure it out; he's got this feeling in his gut that something's wrong about the whole situation

but he just keeps studying, waiting to see if he can gather any extra information

and he does.

charlie makes the mistake of leaving his phone out, face up, when he goes to talk to a friend about something that happened in one of their classes

a text from you lights up the screen, and ted, sitting next to charlie, reads it first

for schlatt, the phone is upside down, so it takes him a minute

but once he processes your message, he's piecing it together in his mind and his blood runs hot

"'i'm not going to be the one to tell him. you're the one who begged for it, you have to explain to him what we did.'"

he repeats the message out loud once more and slams his books closed, shoving his things into his bag and furiously slinging it over his shoulder

"dude, you aren't even together, you can't control them," ted reasons, trying to salvage the hangout

charlie saunters back over, face falling once he checks his phone and sees schlatt towering over the table with a scowl on his face

"hope it was worth it, man," he mutters, voice laced with anger

"i- i didn't mean to hurt-"

"doesn't matter. i'll see you guys later," schlatt spits out, stalking away from the table and slamming through the library doors

it's silent for a bit before ted speaks

"he'll get over it. give him some time."

"...i hope so."

"he will, he just needs time to realize he doesn't have any say in what y/n does and he'll be over it like that."

ted snaps his fingers with the last word and receives a shhh from an attendant shelving books nearby

"maybe. he really likes them, though. i think i might have actually fucked up this time, ted. it was incredible, but i don't know if it was worth losing schlatt's friendship."

charlie runs a hand through his hair and blows out a frustrated exhale

"maybe he would be less mad if i slept with them too?" ted asks, more wondering aloud to himself than anything

"because then he would have to be mad at both of us," he says as he works through his thought

"and then you wouldn't feel as bad about being the only one to do it!"

charlie just stares at him for a bit

"are you fucking serious, dude? you're gonna make it that much worse?"

"look, man, if i sleep with her, and tell him, he'll be mad at me too, thus taking some of the blame off you. do you see what i'm getting at?"

"yes, dude, i see what you're getting at, but it's a shitty plan and he's just gonna kill both of us."

"...we shall see," ted answers with a sense of finality, grinning as he packs up his stuff

"i'll let you know how it goes." he smirks down at charlie one last time before pulling his phone out of his pocket to check it

"you're an idiot!" charlie whisper-yells as ted struts away

but ted just raises one hand, middle finger sticking up, and exits the library, determined to get in on the bliss that his best friends had experienced so he would no longer be the only virgin in the group

he's humiliated that he's the last one left, but a trip to your apartment will surely change that

so he takes a deep breath, adjusts his bag, and walks to the side of campus that your home's on, excited to see how this whole situation will unfold

[temis-de-leon]

Love potion and OM! Brothers - Part 2

Characters: Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie (x reader, separately)

Intro , Part 1 , Part 3

Masterlist

CW: fluff, a tiny little bit suggestive, Belphie's a brat (aren't we all surprised), brothers crushing hard and MC implied to be crushing hard too, pre-established relationship

A/N: Just like in other posts, I can't seem to be able to properly tag some of you :(

.

Satan

How could he see the cat from his seat by the window, Satan didn’t know, but he would be crazy if he ever let go of the opportunity to pet one. The only thing he could think of before rushing out was grabbing you and some treats and hope the kitten was still there by the time you arrived.

He could feel his excitement buzzing in his chest when he knocked your door, but no sound came in return. He sent you a message, growing impatient and pacing in the hallway until he entered your room with determination.

“MC! Cat alert! I need help to sneak him in!”

Your smell was strong, but you didn’t seem to be in the room. Weird. However, it didn’t take him long to realize it was actually coming from the cauldron.

Satan got closer, temporarily forgetting about the cat while he studied the glittery liquid or, rather, holographic. He moved the spoon, humming when it reflected the warm light of the candles in a fluid motion. The smell was delicious, but it didn’t resemble any food he could think of. Actually, it reminded him of the Royal Library and the cat café you both visited after your study sessions.

Soft, shimmering, appealing.

A love potion? What were you doing, MC? Trying to enchant somebody?

He could tell you had left before finishing your project, otherwise, the essence would be stronger. Satan wondered if whatever you smelt reminded you of him in any sort of way. Maybe his cologne? Or the smell of treats and old books that plagued his room?

The brief thought of adding a strand of his hair crossed his mind, but he quickly erased it. He loved you and he wanted you to love him, yes, but he’d be damned if he forced those feelings. You taught him love and affection, allowing him to experience every word he’d ever read in his romance books and picturing you as the main character’s love interest.

Satan had no doubts. If you were to reciprocate his feelings, he’d prefer them to be real.

Asmo

“You won’t believe it, MC!”

He gained one thousand followers in Devilgram in just one night! Sneaking out and going to that party with Mammon was totally worth it! They both had to kneel before Lucifer for three whole hours and Mammon was hung upside down, that was true, but still, totally worth it!

Now, where were you? Your phone was charging on your bedside table and only half of the candles were lit, pictures of the family and various trinkets decorating the branches of the tree. He could see all the skincare products he’d ever recommend and bought for you on the table, but he frowned when he hold a bottle in his hand and felt it was almost empty.

Why didn’t you tell him? You could use the opportunity to go on a shopping spree with him! But… ooh, what were you making? It looked like the face oil you just finished! Silky, golden and glittery, almost odourless if not for the faint smell of your lip balm and flowers; roses, like the ones in his room.

Were you trying to replicate the product? He could understand why, it was a little expensive after all, but it wouldn’t achieve the same results as the original. Natural ingredients had some limits, after all. But hey, it could be fun! You had some great ideas, MC; although it was a pity you didn’t want to share them with him.

Or, maybe, you wanted to surprise him! A fuzzy feeling covered his heart at the thought, like bubbles in a sugary drink, and he had the sudden need of sitting down next to the cauldron with mixed words stuck in his throat. The oil changed its appearance from that perspective, the golden colour turning hot pink with red swirls.

Asmodeus stared in amazement, wondering what type of ingredients you used to create such a hypnotizing concoction. Could you share the recipe with him? It would be your little secret! He already had some ideas for the next one, like a soft baby pink or a shimmery white that looked and smelled like frosting.

Or, perhaps, if you were keen on the idea, you could come together to create a new smell that would only belong to you. Something that he’d never share with anyone else and could never be duplicated.

Like all the love he felt for you.

Beel

Forgive him, MC.

It smelt too good.

Like cheeseburgers with fries and pizza with sodas and raw cookie dough with marshmallows and ice cream and chips of every flavour… Everything he had ever eaten with you, especially during that movie marathon weekend.

It had been a consolation price for losing his last Fangol game, something that hardly happened and left him with a sour taste in his mouth, broody and frustrated, so not like him. He’d been hungrier than ever then and, if not for Lucifer and Lord Diavolo, he would’ve eaten half of the coliseum. Thankfully, you had a whole stack of food ready to be taken in the kitchen.

Beel knew you probably bought it all thinking he would win the game, but, hey, food is food. He’d never think of complaining, especially when it came from you.

He didn’t remember what you watched and he already apologized for it a couple of times, but he wasn’t really bothered about it. After all, he’d spent the whole weekend cuddling you, crossing the wobbly line of friendship you’d both established long ago, and eating everything you had for him. Only when the week began again he realized he hadn’t been left entirely satisfied and he deeply hoped you felt the same.

Should he had kiss you? Distract you from the movie and confess under the blankets, smelling you amongst the sugary and savoury food?  

He wasn’t sure at the time, but Belphie’s teasing was encouragement enough for him to leave his bedroom and rush to yours.

But you weren’t there.

And the cauldron smelt so good.

Beel didn’t even have time to check what it was before drinking it all at full speed as if it was a bottle of water after practice. The smell remained only for a couple of seconds, but he didn’t feel any different, maybe a little bit warmer than before.

Whatever.

Where were you, MC? He had something to tell you.

Belphie

He was dreaming of the beach, waves crashing against the sand and warm wind tanning his skin, but you weren’t there. He looked around for a while, finding no one, so, although very reluctantly, he forced himself to wake up.

The attic was empty and without the seawater’s coolness the high temperature in the room left him sticky, tangled in his sheets and uncomfortable. He searched for his DDD, toying with the idea of sending you a message in hopes of sleeping in your room, but he didn’t know how long it would take you to respond, so, grabbing his pillow and his blanket, he got up and went down the stairs.

He hadn’t seen you since last night and you didn’t share any classes that day, hence him not going to RAD despite Lucifer’s complaints. Then, dinner had been hectic with everyone trying to get your attention, so, overall, Belphie didn’t really spend any time with you that day and he missed you too much to sleep properly.

Yes, he blamed you.

And yes, it was a reason good enough to enter your room without knocking.

Disappointingly, just like in his dream, you weren’t there, although it smelt so much like you: your human essence, your body products and your detergent, which he’d stolen multiple times to clean his bed sheets.

Did you do laundry recently? Why didn’t you say anything? Or were you in the shower? In that case, don’t worry MC, he could wait, just not for long; after all, your bed was too comfortable and your room was especially homey that night. He expected you to be already at the beach by the time he got there.

Naked, clothed, in your swimwear, he didn’t care. Belphie just wanted you there with him. Hopefully, forever.

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