#take a drink (of water) any time you spot a musical reference in this

[softguarnere]

*slides a crisp $20 bill across the table* being an intelligence officer working with Nixon and having a thing for each other because I’m in love with how you write him 🫶🏽

Hold Me Close While I Think This Through

Lewis Nixon x reader

A/N: "I'm in love with how you write him" when I tell you I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes 🥹 I've literally had the worst writer's block this past week, so I hope this came out okay! (As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: language, drinking, this isn't proof read - we die like men 🫡

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through Regimental HQ somehow makes the morning seem a little more crisp, new, and exciting. A few people spare glances in your direction as you pass. None of them matter, though. Not when you’ve got your eyes set on the two men sitting at a table straight ahead – one of which the sight of makes your heart run wild like a race horse, the only thing containing it the bars of your rib cage . . . and the knowledge that he’s married.

“Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Nixon chirps as you approach. Leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk and sipping a cup of coffee, he looks like he owns the place. No other person in the Army has looked quite so relaxed this whole war. He looks like a spectator, not someone who’s always in the midst of danger, gathering intel and navigating the chess board that is military politics. It's a stark juxtaposition to the man beside him, who’s flipping through some papers and scribbling notes on them every now and then, looking serious.

Winters offers you a small smile. “Morning, (Y/N).”

“Morning, gents.” Playfully, you push Nixon’s feet off the desk before taking a seat next to Winters. “We all know that if you had your way, no one would be sleeping later than you.”

“Oh har har.”

“She’s got a point, Nix,” Winters says with a smirk. “You wouldn’t be at half of our meetings if I weren’t forcing you up.”

“Not you too.”

“Honesty is a virtue.”

Before any more digs can be made at his expense, Nixon grabs a file from a stack on the desk and tosses it in your direction. It lands beside you with a weak thwack! on top of some other papers that he’s left laying about.

“New assignment,” he says by way of explanation.

Flipping it open sends waves of excitement flooding over you. Your eyes keep skipping ahead, trying to take in all the information at once. Can this be true? You have to reread the carefully printed lines several times to make sure that you’re not imagining things.

“Oh my God.”

Winters pauses mid-scribble, glancing up at you. “Well that’s more than the usual exasperated sigh.”

Nixon smiles around his coffee cup. “Let me guess: they want another map?”

“No.” You read the lines one last time – just in case. Carefully, you close the file and run a hand over the cover with the same reverence that a priest might a Bible. “They want to send me behind enemy lines.”

Nixon chokes on his drink. “They what?!” He splutters.

You’re too proud to notice the way that your fellow intelligence officer’s face goes pale, or the way that Winters sends him a worried glance. All you know is that this is your chance. To get out from behind the desk and into the field. To do something that will make a real difference in the war.

This is your time to shine.

--

God, he hasn’t been this uncomfortable since he was eighteen and standing in the living room at his graduation party while extended family milled about, pumping his hand with congratulatory handshakes and then wandering off to judge the furniture placement and snicker over hors d’oeuvres. He had spent half the evening sneaking pulls from a flask to loosen up, and besides the incident in which one of his mother’s cousins had shoved a piece of cake into the face of an uncle from his dad’s side, the only thing he can really recall from that evening is the stifling feeling that accompanies dressing up and rubbing elbows with society’s upper crust.

Ironic, that going off to war and hoping it would get him away from all that somehow managed to throw him right back into the remnants of that suffocating existence. He needs a drink.

Snatching a tall glass from a waiter that’s passing by, he downs it in one long gulp before giving the sprawling ballroom another once over as he tries to get his bearings. There’s really nothing to see except a bunch of rich German officers strutting around, puffing out their chests while women who gleam under the heavy armor of precious stones that they wear trapse after them, clinging to their arms and occasionally managing to drag one to the dance floor.

Something catches his eye. Along the far wall, one woman shines brighter than the rest, despite the fact that she wears nowhere near as much jewelry. She doesn’t need it; she sparkles all on her own – she is her own precious gemstone. With her simple gown and demure demeanor, she looks like a modern day Cinderella observing the party, not sure if she should join in or not.

You play your part well. Nixon knows better; you are not nearly so shy and reserved. It’s all an act to attract young officers in the hopes that they’ll dance with you and let some key bit of intel slip in an attempt to impress you. None of this is real – not really, Nixon knows that.

So they why do his hands automatically clench into fists at his side at the thought of a Kraut officer flirting with you – dancing with you – even looking at you?

He knows the answer. He has known it for a long time, even if it took Dick – of all people – pointing it out to him to make him confront his truth. The honest fact of the matter is that Lewis Nixon has fallen for you – hard. But there’s a war on. And the fact that he’s married. Not to mention that you obviously only think of him as a friend.  

Sometimes fiction can be a veil behind which the truth hides itself. And undercover, what are the two of you tonight if not a piece of fiction? he reasons.

If you’re surprised to see him, your face betrays nothing when he joins you along the wall. Your smile is pleasant, your shy demeanor unchanged as you pretend to introduce yourself to him in flawless German.

Then, quietly, “What are you doing here? Where’s Lieutenant – “

“His orders were changed,” he says quickly. There’s no need to mention the fact that the intelligence officer you were supposed to be meeting was put on a different assignment at Nixon’s request. It didn’t take much convincing to make the upper brass see that his upper class background enables him to better navigate parties such as this one. And only Dick seems to realize why he was so adamant about being the one to accompany you behind enemy lines.

You give him a sideways glance. You’re too smart not to have questions about the sudden change of plans, but there’s no time for any of that when you’re surrounded by people who would gladly kill you both in a heartbeat if they were to find out who you really were and what you were doing.

“Danced with anyone interesting tonight?”

“Only him.” You risk a subtle nod in the direction of a young officer who stands among much older men, all of them covered in ribbons and awards. “Some sort of protégé who can’t hold his liquor and was a little too eager to tell me all about his most important assignments the second that I gave him a shy smile and the honor of a dance.”

That idiot? Dancing with you? A chill runs down his spin at the thought of that Nazi bastard with his hands on your waist.

“I’ve been trying to slip away for the last half hour, but every time that I start for the door, he comes back around to offer me another dance.”

Nixon offers a woman passing by a pleasing smile, and laughs like you’ve just said something funny before whispering, “Do you think you’ve been compromised?”

“No. I just think that the slimy little lizard isn’t too eager to let a real life woman who laughed at his jokes slip away.”

“Well, we’ll see how confident he is when he realizes that there are other men here who are far better dancers.” He offers you a bow and then extends his hand to you. “Shall we, Fräulein?”

In all the time that he’s known you, and after all your training, he’s never seen you break character before. But something about the way that your smile spreads across your face tells him that there’s a first time for everything.

You fit your gloved hand into his. “Wir sollten.”

The image of the young German officer’s face falling, looking completely crushed as he sees Nixon leading you onto the dance floor, will forever bring him a sense of satisfaction – especially when he storms out of the ballroom, followed by confused looks from all the older officers and party goers. Good, let him throw a tantrum over not getting his way. He wouldn’t deserve you in a hundred different lifetimes.

The music is just loud enough that no one can overhear you when you whisper your question from earlier as you dance, guarded by your close proximity. “What are you really doing here, Lewis?”

Lewis. Not Nixon. Not Nix. Lewis.

His name, yes, but you’ve only ever called him that a handful of times. Something about the way you say it stirs the feelings that took him so long to name.

“I couldn’t let you come here by yourself,” he whispers back. In any other situation, a look of annoyance at what that might imply would have crossed your face, but you don’t break character because of the people watching. “Not that you aren’t capable! Of course you are. You’re the most capable.”

“But you didn’t trust me enough?”

Fuck, he’s already made a mess of this whole thing. That’s what he gets for acknowledging his feelings instead of numbing them with Vat 69. He was never taught to articulate his emotions; Dick made it sound way too easy.

He fumbles for an explanation. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you coming into this alone. I mean, you wouldn’t have been alone, but without me, I mean.”

Smooth.

You raise an eyebrow. “But why?”

Is it his imagination, or standing so close, is your heartbeat stuttering the way that his is?

“Because I never want to leave your side,” he admits. “And I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you and I wasn’t here.”

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. He’s sure that he’s said the wrong thing. Leave it to him to dig the hole even deeper.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

His face feels hot. Was the ballroom this warm when he arrived, or is the building suddenly on fire?

“I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m trying to make a confession.”

“But . . . you’re married.” Unfortunately, you’re right. “And there’s the war and the non-fraternization policy.” Double whammy. Still –

“I don’t care about any of that. I care about you.”

You hesitate, maybe for the first time in your entire life. There’s no denying that there’s something between the two of you. Acknowledging those feelings and acting on them though . . . that could be a bad idea. Because just like there’s no denying the mutual feelings you share, there’s also no ignoring the harsh facts that you’ve just pointed out.

“Dick is gonna kill us.”

Nixon laughs. “If Sink doesn’t beat him to it.”

Another mutual feeling bursts into bloom: anything could happen in this war, and it’s already taken so much from everyone – why not enjoy what you can while you can?

“People are watching us.” Around you, couples are beginning to pull apart as the song comes to a close. You and Nixon are still fit together, your right hand clasped in his left, his right hand on your waist.

“Someone is always watching us. Occupational hazard.” He smiles, half because he’s right – your job means that you’re always either watching someone or being watched – and half because you’re so beautiful and he’s so lucky to be dancing with you that he wonders who wouldn’t be watching. He’s so nervous that he wonders if he actually speaks aloud when he asks, “Do you want to give them a show?”

The words must make their way out, because he can hear your breath hitch in your throat. Then you smirk, just like you usually would at one of his ideas.

“Shut up and kiss me so that we can make a grand exit.”

He may outrank you, but he’s all too happy to comply with your order.

[astermagne-but-genshin]

Hi all, I have a migraine and am dizzy, so this wonderful idea came to mind.

Harbinger Migraine Hcs

Note, when I say ‘you’ it’s referring to anyone who’s in their vicinity , whether it be another harbinger, random person in Teyvat, your character or self, etc.

Dottore

Too little coffee. Too much coffee. The lights are too bright. Whatever the reason he will say, he will carry on his work like it’s nothing.

He will suffer in silence. Unless you’re in the vicinity, then he will blame it on you. He doesn’t care who you are, whether an assistant, a squirrel, or Pierro : you are now the subject of his ire.

Is he just grumpy? Or is it actually a headache..

There is no change in his facial expressions or demeanor.

Offer him snacks? “Get out of my lab”.

There is no such thing as self care. No water, no naps, no nothing. He has always toughed it out, he can and will do it again. Will only take an ibuprofen if it’s within reach. However if it’s his work area, chances of painkillers being around are pretty unlikely.

Pantalone

Closed eyes are a virtue, it helps.

Drink water! Sip sip sip

Has incense burning to help ease the migraine.

Soft music in the background 😌

He might bring it up in a conversation. He might want you to bring it up in a conversation. “Oh , you noticed ✨”

Oh he loves the attention you might give him. Please, do give him pillows, get well wishes, and an extra pitcher of fresh water. Get him flowers.

Depending on who you are, he will either lean against you if you offer cuddles , or, bite. (He is fast. You will not see it coming. You will not see it happening. You are now wounded and warned.)

He will take naps. He will tell his workers /secretaries to momentarily take up his work for him, cancel appointments if it’s really bad. (If someone poisoned him or something.) Otherwise, business is business.

Only the comfiest of seats.

Will probably take a spa day when this is over.

Columbina

Sleepyyyyy

More than usual

When she gets a pang of pain while walking, she will either stop and stare into the void for a few seconds before continuing, or dramatically fall and let the floor be her resting spot for a few minutes. Nap time. Latter usually when no one is around.

Snacks! Oh she will raid the kitchen. I’m kidding, her room has tons t o n s of emergency snacks. Cookies, chips, brownies, cake, a wide arrangement of vegetables and fruits, bread. But in times where a migraine strikes, she prefers any food with a good crunch

Hums /sings less :<

Massages are very welcome. Will ask you to carry her. She has wings? So? You have arms.

Will either ,randomly, enjoy music when it is playing , or become biblically accurate to the musicians .

What’s water?

[icamefromadream]

Character Quirks

Note: Idk when I wrote this but a lot of them suck.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Grabs onto things when slightly scared. Such as someone else's arm or just the wall or their shirt.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Itches nose when lying

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Bites the sides of their nails when their nervous

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Massages their wrists when they get over-excited.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Scrunched their nose when something smells or if it itches.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Looks left/right when they try to remember something.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Picks at their lip skin

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Does a handstand to remember stuff

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ reads out loud (force of habit)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Extremely paranoid, stares off into the dark. Usually gets snapped back when someone touches them

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Kicks feet like child when nervous

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Gets excited when given ketchup packets

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Likes to have their feet cold when sleeping

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Flowers usually get tangled with them when they wake up (this is if the characters powers are nature stuff. Could work with other elements too such as sand, water, fire etc.)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Falls asleep in random places, all snuggled up. (usually applies to characters with trauma, mainly because they're to scared to sleep at night)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Clicks tongue a lot. (habit ig)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Sends those emoji things usually formed of symbols in every text message. :>> :DD ;^; etc.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Reaches out for phone at any minor inconvenience.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Purses lips together when focused -looks unfocused but is focused

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Sits on chair at very weird and 'creative' positions when trying to focus

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ plays music when annoyed -sings when they think their alone

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Always looks at someone else when in disbelief.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Looks at 'invisible camera' whenever surprised/scared/disbelif/haply/confused/etc. (like in thr office)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Bling watches Lego ninjago(why did I choose this show?) when sad (or any other show ment for kids)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Makes direct eye contact when speaking (sign of repect. Can be related to trauma somehow?)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Looks anywhere BUT at a person's eyes. Stares usually at someone's eyebrows or forehead.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Always buys new waterbottles but never drinks water.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Eyes shake when scared -Scratches their neck whenever mad [at themselves]

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ fiddles with otherpwrsons hands when nervous (usually a partner)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Loves painting. Can't paint. Rage quits. Ruins painting. Comes back. Paints about their rage. Gets bored. Leaves. Comes back to paint. Repeat.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Writes about every detail of their day in journal (usually comes down to trauma, when characters get hypnotized or forced to forget.) -Hums. Whenever.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ raises eyebrow when slightly irrated or annoyed.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ soft spot for animals (and people who re.inds them of animals...leading to partner) -draws people as animals.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Likes to get new hobbies all the time.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Sets timer for everything that they do.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ says happy birthday when giving someone something.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Says "That was inconvenient...". at any minor inconvenience. (u could say something else.)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ says "eating medicine" instead of taking medicines

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ mixes up drinking and eating.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ "What are they gonna do, kill me?" ╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Refers to things as people. "Oh no, she broke" or "Can you feed him water?"(Talking to plants.)

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Draws eyeballs on trh side of paper

[lottiembae]

𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔; jackie taylor x fem!reader

Summary: mid-twenties, a podcast and an off voice. or y/n discovering she had sex with a famous podcast's presenter.

Warnings: fluff, mention of sex, future surgeon!reader, mention of disorder alimentary. I don't know how I do it but it's long, sorry😐.

Note: English is not my first language.

"Hello, everyone! Welcome back to glitter things. I'm Jackie Taylor, Shauna is behind like always and today we have a special guest! Welcome back to glitter things Misty."

Y/N spit out the water she was drinking, wetting the counter in front of her. She coughed, grabbing a piece of paper and cleaning the mess, her breath going normal. She kept hearing the new recommended podcast, not believing the voice she is hearing.

She had sex with her. Even if Y/N couldn't see her face, she recognises the voice. That scratching, low and cheerful voice that whispered dirty and luring words at her last night. When they finished, Y/N walked away from Jackie's place and that's all.

Tired and surprised, Y/N sat down on her rough brown couch, listening closely to the program. Amazed by the charm and spontaneity of the woman, she got in a trance and listened to the full episode.

She isn't proud that after that and decides to take a short shower and change clothes, while she cooks her dinner, Y/N put an old episode. This time some Natalie Scatorccio was the special guest, the soft banter with Shauna, who still Y/N couldn't listen to the voice, and the stories about how they were in the same soccer team. It surprises Y/N, not taking Jackie Taylor to play some sport. She finished her dinner and after thinking about it, she couldn't help typing her name, only to be met by an unknown answer.

There aren't any photos of her. Neither Natalie Scatorccio or Misty Quigley. It's weird. It's clearly at this point of how well the podcast is going, there aren't any traces of Jackie Taylor or Shauna. Three seasons and a ghost face to the public.

For a part she is surprised, but the other part she felt proud. I mean, how many people who listen to this podcast could put a face to Jackie Taylor? A few ones, Y/N is one of them.

•••

A few days later and Y/N went to the same club she collided with Jackie. She couldn't help it, the mystery attracted her.

She walked inside of the crowded club, going to the bar to ask for a drink. While she waited for it after she ordered, her senses were on alert. She didn't like going out, plus nobody knew about her sexuality, so sometimes Y/N came to this lesbian club in New York, but afraid someone could recognise her. It's an internal feeling she has been battling for a long time, the only person knowing about her sexuality is her therapist.

Y/N thanked the bartender when they came with her drink and gave a sip, her eyes scanning the dance floor. And she spotted her, just like that. She isn't dancing, but she is close to the dance floor. Her head leaning to the unknown woman, whispering something with a smirk on her ear. Y/N could only see her face, the constant smile resting on her lipgloss mouth.

After thinking, Y/N decides to go to the dance floor, emptying her mind and letting herself loosen. She closed her eyes, focusing on the music, her body starting to move to the beat in a slow and sensual way. Sometimes she could feel the people surrounding her, but going away when notices she is ignoring them. Song after song, Y/N's body started to feel tired, the work hours affected her a little, until a perfume she knew too well hit her nostrils. Y/N still kept her eyes closed dancing, feeling her breath on her shoulder while she sneaked an arm around her waist, closing the gap between their bodies and dancing to the same beat.

This time she opened her eyes and moved her head to the left, seeing Jackie's bangs messed and her hazel doe eyes looking back at her, smirking.

"Am I finally the lucky woman to have you tonight?" She rasped on her ear, referring to the people who hit on her and failed.

Y/N shrugs, smirking back and turning around, wrapping her arms on her neck. "Maybe." She played, loosening her arms and her smirk widened when Jackie wrapped her other arm on her waist.

Jackie licked her mouth, deciding to lean her head on hers and kissing her lips. Y/N reciprocated, opening her mouth and giving access to Jackie's tongue, a hand going to her cheek meanwhile the hands on her waist going to her ass, squeezing it hard, Jackie smirked when Y/N let out a hiss.

"Let's go." Jackie whispered in her mouth after breaking the kiss, grabbing her hand and walking to a table.

"Wow, you gave for sure that I'm going with you!" She loudly says on her ear, the music is too loud for them to talk in a normal tone.

"I'm confident." Jackie said in a flirty voice, shrugging.

•••

Their irregular breathing matches when Jackie puts on next to her, a hand removing her hair while letting out a laugh. "That's amazing."

Y/N nods next to her, not knowing what to do.

Jackie frowned and looked at her, leaning her head on her hand while putting her elbow on the pillow. "You okay? I know that I'm good," Y/N snorted to this comment, rolling her eyes. Jackie hit her shoulder playful. "You can stay. It's late and I don't want you to go home at this hour." She offers, pulling on the covers on their naked bodies.

"Thanks." Y/N said, blushing a little because she wanted to ask something, she cleared her throat and talked when Jackie looked at her. "I'm sorry, but can you let me get some clothes? It's freezing." She whispered.

"Yeah, of course." Jackie stood up and rummaged into her closet, grabbing an old dark blue sweatshirt and gave it to Y/N. "There you are." She put on a big shirt and lay down.

Y/N thanked her and before she put on it, she could read WHS with a bee on it.

The next morning, Y/N woke up before Jackie and decided to go before the blonde woke up. So, stood up slowly and carefully to not make a sound while she put on her clothes. She closed the door carefully and tipped toe for the dark hall, going to the front door of the apartment and freezing out when someone cleared their throat.

"Coffee?" The unknown person asked when Y/N turned around, a smug smile painted on her lips.

Y/N looks around uncertainty, but nod. She didn't want to be rude. She approached the kitchen and waited for her coffee.

"I'm Shauna." The brunette introduced herself, putting the cup under the machine.

Y/N opened her eyes quickly, so this is Shauna. She cleared her throat when notices she fell silent for a few seconds. "Y/N."

Shauna nods with her head and gives the white cup at her. She sipped her own coffee while her eyes looked at the stranger with curiosity, leaning on the counter. Y/N felt nervous for the intensity look on her. She sipped the coffee and cursed lowly to get burned.

"You can sit down if you want." Shauna said, pointing to the bar stool next to her.

"No, thank you. I need to go to work soon." Y/N declined, explaining the reason. Shauna nods, grabbing her tablet and going to a round table, sitting there.

Y/N sipped her coffee quickly, even if later she would have severely burned spots on her palate. Something on Shauna made her feel nervous, like if she gives a false step, Shauna will know she recognises them. Something is true, but in her defence, she found out randomly. And if Y/N decides to come back to that club it is only Jackie's fault for being charming and other qualities she can't think of now.

"Thank you, Shauna. Bye." Y/N said after putting the cup in the sink.

Shauna removes her gaze from her tablet and gives a lipped smile at her. "You're welcome. Be careful." She wishes kindly.

Y/N nods and left the apartment.

•••

A few days passed. Y/N is in a cafeteria near the hospital where she is having practice. She is on a break, without changing her medical clothes because soon she needed to come back.

She sipped from her drink, depositing it on the table and typing on her laptop. But she raised her eyes up momentarily when saw a few tables away from a brunette she met a few days ago, it made her feel nervous. Y/N checked the hour, she is still ten minutes before her shift started and Shauna seems like she is staying for more than five minutes, that means Y/N needs to pass for her table to exit from there and Shauna would see her.

Y/N saved her project and closed the laptop, saved her belongings and went to pay for the piece of cake and coffee. Maybe if she wasn't so distracted, she could see the knife on the next empty table to fall, but it was too late when someone pushed her and her right hand met the metal, stab in her skin. She let out a loud pain noise, alerting some people around her. Her eyes saw the knife with her blood dripping, it is still stabbed in. Y/N needed to remove it slowly, careful to not damage the wound or brush her tendon.

"Are you okay? Oh my god, there you are!" Some waitresses came and tended her to a rag to cover the wound when she took the knife out.

"Thank you." She said in a weak tone, putting the rag on her hand with a firm knot. "How much for the coffee and that cake?" She asks, signaling with her left hand the cake she asked to have before.

"Oh no! We invite. Please, let me help you." A boy from the same age said, going out from behind. Y/N thanked them again, she could feel how pallid she is turning.

They walked to the exit, Y/N holding with her left hand the other injured one, feeling a warm liquid forming on the rag. "Y/N?" She stopped when Shauna called her. The brunette stood up and walked towards her with a smile until she saw the rag covering with blood, her smile faltering. "What happened?" She questioned with worry.

"I was not paying attention and I stabbed with a knife." She said in a weak voice. "I'm going to the hospital." She informs, trying to give her a smile but failing.

Shauna nods, watching the boy who attended her before. "I'm going with her, Simon. I'll pay tomorrow for my command." She said, grabbing her things and walking towards Y/N, guiding her outside.

The brunette guides her carefully to the big hospital, her body doing the shield on the crowded streets, scowling whenever someone pushes them without apologizing. "You know this place." Y/N said after a while, making Shauna frown confused. "The cafeteria." Y/N specific.

"Yeah, I usually go there because it is nearer where I work." Shauna murmurs, turning right to a street and seeing the big building. "Are you a doctor?" She asked a few minutes later, side eyeing the blue clothes.

"I hope so. I'm in my last year of college." Y/N said, both of them are going in now, they went to the reception and she gives a brief wave with her uninjured hand. "Good Evening Molly. I need a doctor." Then, she proceeded to show her right hand with the rag covered in blood, gaining a gasp from Molly.

"What the hell happened? Let's go, I'm taking you with Stella. She is free now." Molly indicated a door to go, Y/N looked at Shauna and whispered to follow her too. They travelled for some halls until Molly knocked at the door, opening it later when someone gave her permission. "Stella, your intern got injured. Please, fix her."

Molly gave Y/N an affectionate squeeze on her shoulder and smiled softly at Shauna, she left the room.

Stella frowned and walked towards Y/N, telling her to go to the stretcher. Shauna noticed how Y/N's steps were weak, so she helped her and grabbed her left hand to show her some support, the girl thanked her.

Stella grabbed a desk chair and put it in front of them, mainly Y/N. "Put the hand there." She ordered soft. The injured woman did what Stella said and the doctor started to loosen the knot, taking off carefully the rag and throwing it into a bin. Her blue eyes examined the wound, whispering something like it doesn't look bad, needing a few stitches. It relieved somehow Y/N heard that.

"Well, done." Stella said, giving a smile to Y/N. "The next time you injure one of my best interns, be careful." She said, chuckling.

"I'll try my best." Y/N said, blushing a little by the compliment.

"You will be two weeks out. Don't worry, I'll do the paperwork." She kindly said, standing out and throwing away the gloves. "It happens many times, and it is superficial. My advice is, breathe these weeks and come back with the same energy you came the first day." Stella said, patting her shoulder. "I'm going to grab the antibiotics you need and you are free until four days when someone needs to check on your stitches." The three got out of the consulting room, Stella went to do what she said while Shauna and Y/N sat down on the chairs outside the consulting room.

Shauna watched how Y/N moves her leg, a distraught look on her eyes looking at the bandage hand. "It's nothing." She patted her knee, trying to distract her.

"I know..." She whispered, raising her gaze towards her and opening her mouth a few times, she finally said. "I was afraid. I would never forgive myself if for a distraction I throw my dream into nothing." Her voice trembled. Shauna wrapped her left arm around her shoulder and pushed her to herself, Y/N's head on her chest.

"Do you want to hear something stupid and random?" Shauna asks out of the blue, Y/N nod gladly to distract her mind from the previous event. "You are my favourite." Shauna laughs lowly when the girl raises her head confused. "Jackie slept with a lot of women. My opinion is that they are all stupid and foolish. Then, you seem the only one with a brain to understand a hookup night." Y/N closed her eyes and slowly painted a grin, understanding what she meant and letting out a laugh, Shauna laughing too. "But it is funny to see Jackie trying to gently kick them out." She said with a shrug.

They laughed for a few minutes, Y/N let her head on her shoulder this time, sighing. "Can I admit something now?" She asks shyly. She hears how Shauna hummed an affirmative word. Y/N swallow and take a breath. "The next day after I had sex with Jackie, I discovered who she is..." She said lowly, a little embarrassed. "I'm a huge fan of criminal podcasts, and when it finishes there were recommendations and it was put alone when the time finished. So it was how I found out." Y/N explained.

"How the hell would our podcast appear on your recommendations?" Shauna asks aloud, a little incredulous. It made Y/N chuckles a little, thinking the same because the podcast she is into is the opposite of what Jackie Taylor could be. "Wait, Jackie mentioned the other day that you two met, so I'm guessing the second was the other day...?" She says, in a curious voice.

"Yes... Before you judge me, Jackie's voice is powerful. I know it is a lame excuse," she could see the ghost of a smile on Shauna's lips. "I guess I liked the other part I couldn't see that night..." She admitted, embarrassed.

After a moment of silence, Shauna spoke. "Usually, Jackie gave a contract with the person she had fun with and made it sign the next day. I asked her if she gave you the contract, because normally it is Jackie saying goodbye to them, not me. Maybe I'm around to witness the lies she said to them." She stopped, looking at Y/N with a kind look. "She said to me that we didn't need to worry about you." She finishes, shrugging.

Y/N feel confused. "What does that mean?" She lowly asks.

"I don't know." Shauna says sincerely.

At that moment, Stella came and gave her the antibiotics. "Three times during the day." She reminds her before she engulfed Y/N in a hug. "And you, did me a favour and take care of her, yeah?" She said at Shauna with a smile.

Y/N opened her mouth to answer that actually, she and Shauna weren't friends. However Shauna cut her and kindly promised that she kept an eye on her.

"You don't have to do that, you know?" Y/N says, walking to the exit with Shauna beside her.

"Believe me, I'm going to keep my word." The brunette stated, pressing the lift's button. "Starting now." She gazes at her, giggling about the girl's behaviour. It's weird that Shauna expresses some type of interaction with a person that only saw a few minutes the past day.

Shauna offered to drive her to her apartment, after Y/N declined like five times, the next try she said yes. They stayed quiet, hearing the cranberries on the radio, it surprises her a little because if she is honest, Y/N knew two songs about that group. But the little time they passed together, she could appreciate that Shauna is not like the rest.

"We are here." Shauna hummed, parking the car. They got out and Y/N followed her, not daring to say anything because clearly, Shauna doesn't take her to her place. And like if Shauna read her mind, she talks. "Sorry, but we need to record the next episode today so I can fix it tomorrow to have it ready on Thursday."

Y/N opened her eyes. "It's okay... But, do you want me there? I don't want to disturb." She said worried, going inside to a different building where Jackie and Shauna live.

"I'm surprised to offer it." Shauna started, indicating the way with her busy hands. "You seem nice." Was the explanation she gave.

They came out of the lift to the one on the last floor. They passed a few doors and the third one is where Shauna stopped, unblocking the door with her keys. She entered and turned on the lights in the big room, waving at Y/N to pass and close the door behind her.

"It has a lot of glitter..." Y/N muttered, her eyes widening. Shauna agreed with a low laugh. She could appreciate a lot of shelving, full of things, of memories and gifts. The wall had a light lilac tone, some lights scattered on the walls. In the middle there is a rectangular table, three chairs and microphones. A little far away there are two white couches and to the right a cabin with transparent windows, assuming that is the place where Shauna worked. She saw two doors closed, so she slowly walked to a glass cabinet where there were photos, it was old photos. She saw that a blonde with dimples on her cheeks was wearing the same shirt that Jackie gave her the other night. Then, Y/N realised that in fact, they are in their teens years. When her eyes met a teen Jackie with a yellow ribbon on her bun, with a navy blue kit while holding a trophy in the air with a big grin on her face, her heart gave an overturn. Jackie now and before, had almost the same face. Maybe the blonde is a few years older than Y/N, but that photo could have ten years, which means it is ten years older and Jackie barely changed.

"We won the last match to go to Nationals that year... She gave us the pass scoring that last minute goal." Shauna explains, crossing her arms while leaning on the table behind Y/N. "The dyed blonde is Natalie, at that time she and Jackie couldn't see each other. The tall brunette is Charlotte Matthews, she has never been on the podcast and I doubt she would be, but she hung out here sometimes. Busy with work now, she is a producer musician." Shauna walks next to Y/N, pointing the mentioned ones. "Ex girlfriends." At this Y/N let out a chuckle, seeing a photo where Natalie and Lottie are having some good time playing the guitar.

"She is Misty, you can't recognise her now. From all of us, she is the one who changed the most but remained the same inside. Smart, dark humour and tragic theatre recite." Y/N beamed a little, she only heard a few podcasts of them, but Misty seems really an interesting person. At least the topics she talked about, detailed it really well. "Van Palmer. If you want to survive never call them on their full name." Y/N painted a smile and could appreciate the photo where they all are together in a party, the redhead seems a little pissed compared with the others one where they were always doing a silly face or smirking. Then, she focused better and saw a big scar on their left cheek, it seems fresh. "Van got bit by a wolf in a trip with the high school's last year in Canada. I know, shocking. They hated it before, but now love it." Shauna explains, smiling at the end. "Laura Lee. The perfect, loving and happy girl that loved to tell us about our sins, very catholic if you don't catch up. She now has an erotic shop, very successful if you ask me..." Shauna pointed to a blonde, smiling face in a photo posing and behind her a small plane, next to her were an unknown face and Charlotte.

"This is Taissa. Our political friend. Badass and not scared to say what she thinks. She is a frequent guest here." A fierce gaze, big curly hair and proud smile while she held the same trophy Jackie did. Very attractive and showing a strong aura, Y/N could see through her features how Shauna described her. Y/N needed to hear the episodes where she is featuring. "Here's Mari. She doesn't have filter to say anything passing for her mind. Best karaoke singer, actually studying to become a soccer coach." She pointed to a girl who looks similar to Charlotte, with bangs and her eyes shrinking from laughing. "These are Akhila and Crystal. They help me with edition sometimes." Shauna finished, showing her a picture where the three are in the studio, having a break and giving tired smiles to the camera.

Before Y/N could ask something, two new voices were heard when someone opened the front door. They turned to look at them, seeing how the smile from Jackie's face dropped, transforming in a shocked face. Next to her was a redhead with long hair, the colour of their hair brightening the whole room.

"What are you doing here!? And are you a doctor!?" Jackie asked twice, her eyes scanning what Y/N was wearing. She throw her purse to the near couch and walked towards the pair, the shock turning in a new emotion, worry. "Oh my god your hand!"

Y/N looks briefly to her injured hand, then to Jackie again. "It's okay. I have a few stitches but I'm fine." She reassured her when saw how her eyes opened more when heard the stitches word. "And not, I'm not a doctor. But hopefully becoming one at the end of this year." She clears out, smiling timid.

Jackie looked at Shauna, suspicious. "Since when you two know each other?"

Shauna opened her mouth to explain the whole situation, but Y/N has an idea and interrupted her. "Well, she is my girlfriend." She almost let out a big laugh when Jackie gasped and Shauna looks at her with an alarming look. With her left hand grabbed Shauna's hand, intertwining them. Behind Jackie, Y/N saw the mischief look that Van is throwing at her, catching the lie immediately but remaining quiet.

The hazel eyed woman blinked a few times, still surprised. Then, she gazes intensely at her best friend and knew when the brown eyes moves away from her that this is not real. "Very funny." She said sarcastically, crossing her arms and looking playfully to Y/N. "I know this one for twenty three years, honey."

Y/N rolls her eyes, however inside her, her mind got dizzy and her heartbeat accelerate when Jackie gave her that pet name. "I wanted to see your reaction." She smugly said, shrugging and giving her an innocent look.

"Shit. So she is your girlfriend?" Van spoke for the first time, sitting on one of the couch.

Jackie turned to look at them with a startled face, while her cheeks start to turn red. "She is not my girlf-," she cut herself when saw the smugness on Van's freckles face. "Shut up, Van." Then, she turned to look at the pair, ignoring her warming cheeks. Her eyes noticed that they still holding hands.

Shauna let out Y/N's hand and cleared her throat. "I saw her in Sunny's cafeteria and I offered to accompany her to the hospital, where she is working." She looks at Y/N for confirmation and relief showed on her face when she nodded, confirming her explanation. "Also, I bring her because it was getting late." She said in a small voice, scratching her neck awkwardly.

"And you trust her?" Van asks, a little surprised. She knew Shauna is difficult to let people know about the podcast.

The brunette gave them a pointed glare. "Yes. The contrary she couldn't been her." She harshly said, walking away and going to her room, closing the door behind to let know that she wants to be alone.

Van snort. "So Shauna." She murmurs, sipping from her water. "Anyway, I'm Van." The redhead introduced to Y/N, smiling kindly when the girl sat down next to her, Jackie trailing behind her.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N. Jackie's hookup." Van burst out laughing while Jackie whined behind them, scolding Y/N.

"I like her." Van commented when their laugh die. "You hear it before?"

"About the podcast?" Y/N asks, the redhead nods. "A few episodes. I heard the Epitome and the Cheeseburger." She admitted.

Van hummed. "Well, there are good ones. You can witness on live today." They winked at her.

"Depends... Topic?" Y/N felt relaxed and play along with the redhead.

"About various topics. I'm a gamer who is friend with a cliché with legs. What do you think it could be?" Van rhetorically ask, leaning their head on their hand on the couch back.

Y/N snorted. "Be careful with your words, Palmer. I'm the boss here." Jackie muttered, sitting in the rectangular table with the laptop on. Her hair now in a mess ponytail, and she still looks beautiful. Her beige jacket wrapping her small figure, and her hazel eyes looking through the sophisticated glasses to the screen.

"Sorry, boss." Van mocked, not bothered by her friend's warnings words.

Y/N fix her eyes on the scar. She tried to avoid the lingering stare on it, not wanting Van feeling uncomfortable. But the problem is that Y/N from a long time, adores the scars and could be mean if the doctor who did it was a botched job or praise who the art work.

"The doctor who stitches you was a rougher and careless..." She whispers, clearly without intentions to say it loudly. Her eyes opened a lot when Van turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Shit, sorry. I mean, it could be better stitched. It is not bad, but could be better." She explains, nervously.

Jackie raised her head curiously. Van's scar barely is mentioned and nobody dare to say something about it. Not because they are scared, they saw how bad and painful it made Van in the past, that they wanted to bring back what the redhead lived. "You are a freak about it, do you?" Their voice is calm, a tiny smirk showing on their lips. The blonde sighs relieved.

"Yeah... Can I?" Y/N shyly asks, explaining with her hand what she wants to do. Van nods, leaning their head aside to let more access. Y/N's index finger traced slowly the scar, it's big but frames perfectly their features. Maybe it could be a little thinner, but maybe the circumstances were different and it needed to be quickly.

Van's eyes catches the gaze that Jackie was throwing at them, specially at Y/N. They could see the soft on her eyes and the corner of her lips turning up. When Jackie moves her gaze towards Van, this one put their thumb up, making her to rolls her eyes.

"Alright! We are starting in five minutes. Y/N, please come with me." Shauna approachs again, warning her friends.

Y/N separated and nodded at Shauna, before she stood up, looked back to Van. "It's beautiful." She murmurs, standing up and walking to where Shauna is, closing the door carefully.

"You need date her or I'm doing it." Van whispered at Jackie when passed next to her.

"Sit down and talk about video games." She grumbled.

•••

Shauna's eyes travelled to her right sometime, scanning Y/N's face when she noticed at the start of the episode that her face started to change. With a sight, she pushed away the black headphones and put them hanging on her neck, her full vision entirely on Y/N.

"Do you need anything?" She whispers, seeing now the pain written on her face. She knew that the woman tried to deny it with a smile, but it was impossible. "I'm going to take your pills and a glass of water." She informed her, squeezing her arm. "Keep talking, I need to go grab something that I forget in the living room." Shauna let them know, sometimes she did it in the past. They keep talking while Jackie puts her thumbs up.

Van keeps explaining the good game Baldur's Gate 3 is to someone in front of her that the only game she played was the sims. Jackie advertised her eyes from the redhead and looked at Shauna when she came out and started to rummage on a white bag. She can't see it properly, only it is a rectangular box. The brunette gave her a quick small smile and returned inside of the cabin, closing the door softly behind her.

"The other day I played with Shauna to guess Taylor Swift's songs... It counts?" Jackie says, smiling while Van scoffs, muttering under their breath. Y/N looks at the interactive entertainment, seeing how Jackie put up her leg and reposed her arm there, laughing at something Van said.

"There you are." Shauna approached with a glass of water and the pills Stella gave Y/N earlier. The brunette sat down where she was before, next to Y/N and when she saw the other took it, more relaxed she paid attention to her friends, smiling at some old anecdote that Van is telling about Jackie.

The time passed and Y/N was feeling better, but sleepy. She removed the headphones Shauna gave her before and leaned her back to the seat, hiding a yawn between her hands. Slowly her head met Shauna's shoulder, finding comfort there. The brown eyed woman looked at the weight on her shoulder, seeing a very sleepy Y/N with her mouth half opened. She knew that if she moved, Y/N wouldn't wake up too easily thanks to the pills. So moving her right arm slower, and with the passing time her arm started to feel numb, the new episode finished.

Jackie went to the cabin when no one came out from there. She opened the door and witnessed how Shauna was struggling to remove Y/N's head from her shoulder without waking her up. The blonde leaned on the frame door, crossing her arms and clearing her throat with a smug smile.

"Need some help?" She rasped out, chuckling when Shauna gave her a pleading look. Jackie walks in and gently removes Y/N's head to the chair, removing some strand of hair from her face and admiring her features while doing it. Then, her eyes find the injured hand and worry is installed in her mind. "Why did you come out before?" She whispers.

"She was in pain. I grabbed some pills the doctor gave her." Shauna explains, standing up and clearing out her desk. "What are we doing? We take her to our home or take her to hers?" She asks, stopping with a notebook on hand and the other with her bag, looking at Jackie.

"Well, for me I have no problem with her staying with us... Do you?" Jackie placed her hands on Y/N's shoulders to hold her and not falling from the chair. Her hazel eyes found Shauna's brown ones, unintentionally giving her a pleading and hopeful gaze.

"You are the only one who is going to sleep with her in the same bed." Shauna states, shrugging and saving her things.

Van approached there too and saw how the blonde started to call the name of the woman sitting there in vain, because Y/N is passed out. "I can help you with her." The redhead says, walking towards them and lifting Y/N up, wrapping an arm around her waist while the other one passes Y/N's arm around their neck, holding her hand with them.

"I'm going to grab my things and I will help you!" Jackie says, walking out quickly. Van walked carefully with Y/N by her side, Shauna helping her and stepping out when Jackie comes back. "Van brought me with them." She informed Shauna when they left the studio and the brunette is closing the door with her keys.

"Jacks, I know it. You have a car like an accessory." Shauna says in an obvious tone, smirking when Jackie hits her arm playfully.

When Y/N opened her eyes it was dark. A low volume of music playing in the distance and someone speaking in a low voice. She blinked a few times, disoriented. She looked around and noticed she was in a car, in the back part.

A throb of pain on her right hand made her let out a hiss of pain, sitting better and bringing her hand to her chest. A head turned to look at her, turning on the light and illuminating the whole car, making Y/N shrink her eyes.

"Shit, sorry!" Jackie murmured, lowering the light. "Are you feeling better?" Her doe hazel eyes pooled with worry, she heard the pained expression Y/N let out.

Y/N nods. "Where are we going? And... How did I get here?" She is confused, looking at the inside of the car.

"Van help us to bring you to Shauna's car." Jackie explains. "And we are going to our apartment. I hope it is okay." She gifted Y/N with one of her famous smiles.

Y/N holds her breath. "You don't have to. I can call a Uber." She said, not wanting to be a burden to them.

"Don't say nonsense." Shauna spoke this time, her eyes moving to the review mirror and gazing at her. "Also, your friend needs to keep an eye on the best student." She winked at her.

Jackie frowns, gazing at her friend confused and alternating her gaze with Y/N, who blushed. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing." Shauna hummed, turning a corner. "We are here."

•••

"You have a nice apartment." Jackie complimented after her eyes scanned the living room and sat down in a stool in the open kitchen.

"Thank you. My parents searched for this and paid the rent, so..." Y/N says with a sarcastic smile.

Jackie snort, seeing the girl with fresh clothes now take the juice from the fridge. "You are rich. I know the sentiment. My parents are too and constantly paid for my things. Then, I went to college and I worked and I don't feel more free in my life." She explains, letting out a tiny laugh and shrugs her shoulders.

"I can't imagine their reaction when you told them about how you are dedicating now." Y/N says in a teasing tone, sitting next to her.

"No happiness at first... But later they accept it and they are my biggest fans." She admitted, her two buns made her look more innocent when her hazel eyed lit gazing at Y/N. "But I'm sure your parents are over the moon with your job's choice. C'mon, surgeon?" It was her turn to tease Y/N.

Last night, while they were laying on Jackie's bed they talked a little about their lives. And Y/N mentioned the blonde to what she wanted to be.

"They are happy." Y/N nods, laughing a little. "But it's for passion and admiration from an early age. I always liked the idea of healing people... And like you can hear yesterday I'm a huge weirdo for scars..." She slowly says, playing with the half empty orange bottle. "I know I'm privileged to have parents to pay for everything. But I think they do it for the amount of absence in my childhood that they reward me with money..." She said with her gaze lost, shaking her head when notices she shared too much. "Sorry, I should let it to my psychologist."

Jackie bit her lip, that story sounds to her. No because their parents did it, she had luck to have them there always. She put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "I can share my shit in my teens." She tried to light the mood.

"Sure. I would love to hear Jackie in a difficult situation." Y/N snorted. She didn't know her too much, but Jackie emits that she was miss perfect.

"I know what you are thinking." Jackie started, removing her hand from her shoulder and starting to play with her rings. She made a thinking face, looking at the ceiling. "I remember the pressure about being perfect, after all it was what they waited for me. I remember how my mind blamed me for not doing what they wanted. Slowly I stopped to eat like I usually did. A small amount of food, counting the calories... I think soccer saves me from something bigger." She opened, her eyes brightening for the tears. She does not cry, but it's painful for her to remember those years.

Y/N felt shocked. In a million years she imagined something like that. She scolded herself to judge her. "Jackie..." She didn't know what to say so she wrapped her in an embrace.

"I'm fine now. My family and friends help me a lot. My psychologist too, so I'm glad you go there to let out your shit." The blonde patted the arm wrapped on her neck, the marshmallow soup Y/N used, hit her nostrils.

They stayed in silence. Y/N processing what the blonde told her and Jackie too distracted about the few freckles scattered on Y/N's arm.

"You don't seem surprised about me being a famous podcast presenter." Jackie hummed, smiling when Y/N let out a laugh.

Y/N removed her arms around Jackie. "And you seem disappointed about it." She sang.

"Well... Maybe." Jackie played along.

They stared at each other while the silence enveloped them in their bubble, until a song interrupted their moment. Jackie cursed in her mind and apologized to answer Shauna's call.

"Sorry, I need to go. I will text you later and hang up soon, okay?" Jackie came from the living room, grabbing her big caramel bag and walked towards Y/N, embracing her.

"Don't worry. Since I have some free time I will go to visit my parents and maybe listen to the rest of the episodes..." Y/N says, chuckling softly.

"I'm flattered, but you won't regret it I promise." Jackie kissed her cheek and walked away when Y/N said goodbye, who stayed looking at the back of the black coat she wears.

•••

Days passed, Jackie and Y/N's bond got stronger. Texting every day and every hour. Every text that Y/N received from the blonde, let a big grin on her face.

Shauna helped Y/N too. Always calling her once a day to check on her. She even invited Y/N to go back to the studio, but she denied not wanting to overstep.

At this point, Y/N heard the full two seasons and half of the third, that it was still in the air. She can't deny that Taissa Turner is one of her favourite guests, loving how Taissa made her explanation with good arguments and not disrespecting different opinions.

Charming Voice: hey you! Some of us wanted to disturb Shauna's peace. You in?

Y/N laughed to herself when read the message before unblocking her phone. She is busy changing the bandage to answer immediately so, opted to call her.

"What do you say?" Jackie answered the call at the third tone, her voice echoing in the silence bathroom.

"I love the idea! I need to change my clothes because I just showered and put on my pyjamas. Give me the direction and drive there." Y/N explained, rolling her eyes when the bandage didn't stay like she wanted.

"Are you driving there? Are you crazy!? Forget about it, I make Shauna or Natalie drive to your apartment." Jackie says firm, some noise was heard in the background. "Shut up, Nat." She grumbled, making Y/N laugh.

"You know what? I'm not going to discuss with you this time. You know where I live. See you now!" Y/N says, hanging up the call when Jackie agrees.

Y/N opted to wear something casual, not in the mood to fix her. 20 minutes later, Jackie texted her that they were waiting for her.

"You look stunning!" Jackie yells at her from her seat, the window down. Y/N walked to Shauna's car, blushing a little by her words.

"You said that to everyone." Y/N stated, going in and waving at Shauna and the unknown person in the back seat.

"I'm Natalie." The blonde introduced, waving with her hand in the air and giving her a polite smile, a dimple showing up on her right cheek.

Y/N wanted to jump in the seat, too excited to finally meet in person to a frequent guest in the Glitter Things podcast. So, she just holds her enthusiasm and introduces herself politely.

"I guess Jackie can't convince you to drive her here." Y/N jokes when Shauna drives to another part.

Natalie let out a deep chuckle. "Yeah, however I almost made her drive me here." She said, giving a teasing smirk to the blonde when she turned at them.

"Well, is Shauna who did it, I think." Y/N says back, making Natalie laugh and the other gives an apologetic smile in return to Shauna when the brunette looks at her in the reviews mirror.

"Van's right, you are funny." Nat murmured, her black eyeliner giving intensity to her deep blue eyes.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, surprised to hear it. Van talked about her with Nat? And maybe with other friends that usually approach the podcasts? She feels like she can faint at any moment. The reason? Jackie Taylor. Why? To be cool. No matter what the reason is, for Y/N meet some cool women that approached in Glitter Things is Jackie's fault.

"Am I?" She questioned in a low voice.

Natalie bit her lip and nod, right now both dimples showed up on her cheeks when she fully grin at her.

"Can I have Y/N's attention to myself? Thank you." Jackie loudly said in a fake innocent voice and looked at Natalie with the same expression. The dyed blonde rolled her eyes, but made a signal with both of her hands to Y/N to indicate that she is hers now. "We are going to karaoke. Prepare yourself to sing with all of us some Taylor's songs and with Shauna Green Day's. Natalie doesn't sing, only smoke." Natalie showed her middle finger when Jackie teased her.

"I like Green Day!" Y/N cheerfully said, grinning big when heard that someone else likes them. Shauna gives her a shy smile.

"I think your shoot turned in another direction." Natalie muttered, looking by the window and holding her laugh.

Jackie gave her a death glare.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, not knowing what that means. Instead she remembers when Shauna told her about the two to not get along in the past.

They arrived at the karaoke bar, Jackie giving Y/N a hug when she got out of the car and immediately starting to tell how the new recording of the episode went when Y/N asked her how it went.

Jackie intertwined her arm with hers, walking inside while Shauna and Natalie walked behind them, chatting and correcting some of Jackie's parts of the story.

"Finally! One more song about Harry Styles and I cut my veins." Van exclaimed when they approached, smiling when their eyes met Y/N. "You came! How are you?" They kindly ask for her hand.

"Hi! I'm fine, thank you for asking. Someone sang American Pie? It is not a karaoke night when nobody sings that song." Y/N says.

"Oh my god! Yes! There are three people who sang that. You think like me! Can I bring you a drink?" The last part the redhead said in a fake flirty voice, but enough to make Y/N laugh.

When Van disappeared with Natalie to bring their drinks, Jackie introduced at her a tall brunette with a kind smile and soft brown eyes. She wears a pink top and a black skirt, accentuating her long legs. Unlike in the photo, her bangs disappeared and her long hair was cut, letting it go about her shoulders.

"Call me Lottie, please." She said in a kind voice, leaning down and embracing her briefly. Y/N couldn't deny how beautiful she is. And how good she smells. "Tai can't come and Laura Lee is getting late." She informed Jackie.

The rest of the night Y/N laughed a lot. Van's jokes with Natalie sarcasm's comment brought tears to her eyes from laughter. Misty Quigley joined the little group, she and Y/N engulfing in an interesting conversation. Then, the part where they all go upstairs to sing, Jackie brought with her a tired Shauna with hers to sing a Taylor Swift song. The next one was Van and Y/N, choosing for a 80's song.

"I'm glad you got along with all of them." Jackie sat down next to her after finishing the song with Misty and Natalie, for the dismay of the last one.

Y/N grin, drinking from her cup. "Thank you, Jackie. I needed this and you helped me a lot these days. Your friends are amazing." She sincerely said, maybe the alcohol had something to do with it.

Jackie gave her a sincere smile, putting her hand on hers. "I'm happy to help you. And about that they are amazing... We are keeping those words away from them." She joked, gazing at her with a fascinating look.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/N leaned on her ear for her to listen. When Jackie nodded, she leaned again. "I don't judge you but... Don't you want people to put a face to your amazing skills with the microphone? I mean, you are so talented and you are easy with words. It's a shame they can't see how pretty you are." At this confession, Jackie's cheeks almost explode for the intensity of how warm they felt.

She cleared her throat, trying to answer honestly about it. So this time she leaned to her and spoke on her ear. "At first I wanted people to know me! But contrary to me, Shauna wasn't. And for the first time in my life, I made the right decision to stay anonymous until someone finds us." Her hazel eyes meet Y/N's, the eyes that from a few nights were in her mind. "It's fun to read comments and theories about us." She finished, sipping from her drink.

"Jackie, let's go!" Van came and grabbed her hand, the rest of the group going on stage.

"We are going to sing our song. It's a tradition. Do you want to come or witness our talent?" Jackie says.

"I prefer the second choice." Y/N reply, feeling a little too dizzy to go there and sing. That and not wanting to overstep on their song.

Jackie nodded and before she stood up, she leaned and kissed her cheek. Then, Van dragged her after asking Y/N to record it.

Y/N finishes to record the song with her cheeks burning. The group made her the target to sing at the top of their lungs at her, bringing attention from the rest of the people there. The worst were the redhead and Natalie, putting up a scene.

•••

The next day, Jackie offered to take Y/N to the hospital and removed the stitches. It surprises Shauna that finally her friend could use the car that their parents brought her after finishing college.

"Guys you don't believe it but Jackie is going to use her car!" Jackie rolled her eyes when hear Shauna say it when she stayed outside for Y/N's request and entered the buzz's chat.

The rest of the reply were they all making fun of her. She typed a quick answer and sent them all a picture of her middle finger.

"Why do you look so pissed?" Y/N approaches, holding a laugh.

"They are making fun of me." Instantly a pout makes passes on her features. Then, Jackie noticed that Y/N isn't wearing a bandage anymore and changing her expression for a happy one. "Let me see!" She extended her hand to grab Y/N right one, seeing a fresh little scar between her thumb and index fingers.

A new person approached behind Y/N. "New like a rose! Ivan told me you are here. How are you?" Y/N turned and let out a bright smile, hugging the woman.

"Stella! You are right, I don't know how many things I've been missing. I'm going to miss them when I come back." She gave her a brief pout.

"I told you!" Stella laughed, her gaze now in Jackie. "Hey, I don't know you came with your girlfriend." Y/N opened her eyes, blushing like crazy.

Jackie copied her gesture, but let out a nervous laugh. "We are not girlfriends..." She corrected her kindly.

"Oh sorry! You two looked like a couple, my fault!" The blonde apologises.

After that, Jackie notices how uncomfortable Y/N is. She decided to sit down Y/N where she was before and she took the seat next to her. "What's wrong?" She questioned gently, her hand stroking the palm of Y/N's hand, careful to not touch the scar.

"People don't know about me..." She struggles a little to say it loudly. She felt comfortable talking about it with Clare, her psychologist.

Jackie brushed her thumb to her chin and gave her the kindest gaze that no one gave her in her life. "There is not a rule to say to everyone that you are gay." She whispers. "You know, my parents found out when I went to college and saw my diary. I ranted a lot about Trinity Damon, the captain cheerleader. I always knew it and also denied it and I don't know why. It's okay if you are comfortable with people not knowing it, the problem comes when you hide who you are."

Y/N hides her head on her neck, finding comfort in her words. Jackie wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning her head on hers.

"Sometimes I feel like Leighton Murray." Y/N commented, making Jackie let out a big laugh.

"Yes, you are! Rich, gay and pretty." Y/N hit her arm playfully, raising her head from her neck.

When they come back to Jackie's car, Y/N discreetly takes a photo of her driving and sends it to Shauna. When Jackie opened the group chat she pouted at Y/N, whining.

"She didn't leave me live for it, Y/N!" Jackie protests, groaning. They went to her studio, the blonde wanted Y/N there to record the episode of that week.

"She or they?" Y/N hummed, laughing when Jackie sent her a warning glare. "You are cute." She pinched her cheek, only for the blonde to remove her hand away.

"You need to stay away from Van and Natalie. They are a bad influence on you." Jackie sighed, going out from the lift.

Y/N entered behind Jackie to the studio and almost passed out when saw a big curly hair chuckle to something Van said. Y/N slapped repeatedly on Jackie's arm, making this one to let out a trial of giggles.

"Big fan, uhm?" Jackie teases her. She planned it, for today's episode Shauna and herself thought to bring a special one where the majority of them showed up there, less Lottie, who for much she and Shauna begged, she remains to her word, but with the promise she can witness the moment from a distance. Y/N hides behind Jackie when she walks towards the group gathering on the couches.

Shauna steps towards Y/N, with enough confidence she grabbed the hand and scanned the scar, a small smile on her mouth. "Stella did a good job." She commented.

Y/N only smiled and hugged her, after all Shauna helped her that day and maybe thanks to her, she maintained contact with Jackie and met them all, including Shauna.

"Do you approach too?" She asked curiously at Shauna.

"Crystal and Akhila are here. So yes, I'm going to approach." She shyly said. Y/N clapped content, squeezing her round cheeks with her hands. "Stop it, you are spending too much time with Jackie." It made Y/N snort, remembering the previous Jackie's words.

A pair of arms wrapped around Y/N's waist, lifting her and making her let out a little scream. "It's me, Van." The redhead chuckles, putting her down and giving a side hug to her. "Taissa come here please!" Jackie asked Van if they could introduce Taissa to her, because if the blonde did it would be suspicious. Y/N swallowed nervously. Taissa walked towards them with a warm smile, removing her hair aside. "She is Y/N, a future addition to this wonderful lesbian group." Van introduced, gaining some laughter from their friends.

Y/N looked at Jackie, but this one gave her an imperceptible nod to her way, smiling. "The only one who made Jackie drive, nice to meet you." She sent a sheepishly smile to Jackie, who rolled her eyes but kept smiling. The full room burst out laughing.

Taissa laughed, greeting her with a hug. "I heard from you, nice to finally meet you. Wonderful words I promise." She reassured, intertwining her arm with Van's. "This one gossip about everything, just a warning." Van gasped offended, dramatically putting a hand on their chest. Taissa just rolled her eyes.

When Y/N greeted the rest of the group, introducing Akhila and Crystal too, they all gathered at the big table, letting out Lottie who remained on the couch. Jackie grabbed Y/N's hand and walked with her towards another room, a kitchen. Of course they have a kitchen too, she thought.

"Before I start, I wanted to ask you something..." She nervously said, playing with her fingers. She cleared her throat when Y/N nodded. "Can you go on a date with me?" She really feels nervous, Y/N could see not only through her actions, from her constant biting on her lip and her breath.

"I love to." Y/N decides to not tease her this time. "First time asking it?" She asks softly, playing with Jackie's ring, it seems that it relaxed her a little.

"I never had a girlfriend..." She admitted. "When I accepted who I am, I only slept with women. There are two times where I felt a little more, but I ran away." She explains, calmly. "The last one told me that she hoped the day I fell in love, they don't run away." Y/N could see that for much Jackie tried to hide how scared she felt, her doe eyes betrayed her.

She closed the distance and placed her lips on hers in a brief touch but enough to let her know that she is on the same page as her. "I never have a girlfriend either..." She confesses.

"I don't mind discovering this side if you are by my side." Jackie brushed her nose with hers, placing now her hand on her hips.

Y/N chuckles. "That's cheesy."

"Shut up." Jackie whispered, rolling her eyes.

A bang on the door alerted them. "Jackie stop sucking her face and come out!" Natalie yells on the other side.

"I'm going to kill her." Jackie muttered, Y/N only laughed. They come out, Jackie going to sit in her usual seat while Y/N sat down next to Lottie.

Y/N watches them all with a big smile on her face. Widening when she saw Jackie so relaxed and doing what she likes, laughing and carefree. Because Jackie is the reflection of her friends, and without them, this podcast never existed.

[ace-of-zaun]

Pas de Deux pt. 7:

Silco x f!reader, 6.7k words, SFW

CW: obsessive silco, yandere/kidnapping (please see part 1 for the full series warnings!) 

Chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of canon-typical violence, hangovers, emotional manipulation, angst, self-doubt, fluff, references to past abuse, references to murder

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 8 | PART 9

-

The first sensation that overwhelms your dulled senses, as your body pushes itself to groggily awaken, is the pulsing headache at the front of your skull. 

You let out a quiet groan, lifting your head slightly to place a hand where most of the pain is residing, only to slowly realise that whatever you’re laying on is gently moving underneath you. 

You frown. 

It’s not until you make a feeble attempt to stretch that you’re alerted to the position you're currently in. You’re not actually lying down at all. You’re upright and sitting on something.

With an almost Herculean effort on your part, you finally peel your heavy eyelids open, wincing as the light hits your eyes, only to squeeze them shut again the moment you recognise where you are.

You’re in Silco’s chair. On Silco’s lap. 

Fuck. 

The monster himself chuckles from somewhere above you, accompanied by the tightening of his arm around your waist, ruining your brief hopes that he might still be asleep. 

“I know you’re awake, my darling,” his voice rumbles, eerily similar to the way it had done the first time you’d woken up in his arms. 

You groan again, this time more loudly, as you reopen your eyes to squint up at him.

He looks down at you, clearly amused by your dishevelled state. 

“What happened?” you finally ask with a croak.

Silco wordlessly produces a half-empty glass of water from behind you which you accept without question. 

“Somebody was very naughty and decided to drink all of my expensive bourbon in one go,” he tells you, an irritating little smirk on his lips. 

The memory flashes up in your brain as you take a sip of water, but when you try to recall the rest of the previous evening, it’s all a little fuzzy. You remember lounging with Silco on the mezzanine, and drinking more alcohol than you’ve had in years, but the rest of it is more sensory based rather than any concrete images.

The sultry swing of the music, the rumble of a voice speaking to you in low, dulcet tones, and of course, the almost delectable feeling of Silco’s waistcoat against your flushed cheek.

You look down at said waistcoat, suddenly realising that Silco is dressed in the same outfit as he was last night. Except now, he looks infinitely more ruffled. 

His tie is gone, and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. But perhaps most worryingly, Silco’s hair is all mussed, like someone has run their fingers through it multiple times…

Concern slowly creeping up your aching spine, you place the glass back on the desk and try to stand up, but find Silco’s strong arms tightening around you once more. 

A quick glance up at his face reveals just how pleased he looks, especially as his eyes shamelessly begin to roam your body.

That’s when you spot your shoes on the floor beside you and your jacket haphazardly tossed to the side of the room. 

No. You wouldn’t have. You know you wouldn’t have done anything with him, even if you were blackout drunk.

But the smug way Silco is peering down at you makes you doubt otherwise. You find yourself asking, even though you desperately don’t want to know the answer.

“Did we, uh… did anything happen?”

His smirk widens to a lopsided grin until your face visibly drops in panic, causing his smile to falter. Silco carefully tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Nothing happened, my sweet,” he tells you, his tone incredibly serious. “I would never take advantage of you like that.”

Thank the gods for that. You’re not sure what you would have done if your body had betrayed you whilst your brain was temporarily indisposed.

Silco appears to know exactly what you were going to ask next because he continues unprompted.

“After you finished both of your drinks and stole most of mine, we came up to my office where you insisted on sitting right here and running your hands through my hair.”

Well, that would explain why his greying hair looks so bedraggled and why you’re sitting on his lap. Still, you couldn’t imagine yourself instigating something like that without at least some influence on Silco’s part. 

“I tried to get you back to your room but you refused quite profusely, and who am I to deny my beautiful little angel?” he continues, smirking at you as he begins to affectionately trace your jawline with his thumb. 

Part of you wonders why he didn’t carry you to bed or, at the very least, put you on the sofa when you’d passed out. But the other part of you understands that he probably relished in the idea of you fawning over him, as well as feeling comfortable enough to fall asleep on him again. 

Internally, you curse your past self. 

That’s it, you’re never drinking again. Not for all the gold hexes in the world. 

“Gods, that’s so embarrassing,” you mumble, running a hand over your flushed face. 

“Not at all, my love. I for one found it really rather endearing,” Silco says. 

You battle not to roll your eyes. Of course he found it endearing, he’d probably find it endearing if you threatened to set him on fire. You can almost hear his smooth voice calling you his ‘little firestarter’.

“Well, I should probably get myself showered and changed,” you tell him, finally managing to pry yourself from his arms as you push to stand from his lap.

Silco reluctantly lets you go, but not fully, resting his hand on your waist to steady your numb legs. 

Once you’re feeling more stable, jacket and shoes now in hand, you begin to trudge your way to the door, before your sluggish brain remembers to play your role of The Nice Girlfriend. With your fingers on the door handle, you turn back to the desk, only to find him already looking at you expectantly.

“Thank you for looking after me, Silco,” you tell him, smiling weakly as your stomach begins to swirl with alcohol-induced nausea. 

“Of course, my darling,” he replies sincerely, before a wicked smirk adorns his face as if he’s just had the most mischievous thought. “After all, I have been known to be rather sweet when I want to be.”

Your expression curls into a confused frown.

Was he still drunk? Who the hell would refer to the Eye of Zaun as sweet?

The door clicks shut and you stumble back down the hall to your bedroom, still undoubtedly perplexed by his statement, but you’re soon distracted by the aches and pains of your hungover body. 

It’s not until you’ve closed your bedroom door, placed a chair behind it, gotten undressed, and are washing your hair in the shower, when comprehension finally smacks you in the face. 

You’d told Silco that he was sweeter than your husband ever was. 

You almost trip and fall over at the jarring memory of your own slurred, shouting voice, forcing you to sink down to the shower floor as water pours down your now-trembling body.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

What possessed you to say that of all things?

Your hand slaps uselessly against the tiles of the floor as you cry out your cursed frustration, your other hand pushing the wet strands of hair from your face. 

What would he do now that he knows you were married? Would he be furious with you? Would he lord it over you or use it to manipulate you? 

You pause for a moment as confusion spreads through you once again.

No, that doesn’t seem right. If you’d confessed the night before, Silco would have had hours to process your declaration. 

So the question was, now that Silco knew one of your biggest secrets, why wasn’t he hounding you with questions, or being his usual insane self? If his cheeky little statement when you’d left the office was anything to go by, he’d seemed to find it funny more than anything else. 

You desperately pray to every god you believe in and every god you don’t that he’d somehow not heard the bit where you’d mentioned your husband. Or that he’d just taken it to be drunken nonsense and was making fun of you. 

You cannot afford to mess this up because of one careless, drunken statement. 

-

As the days pass, Silco doesn’t mention your night of indulgence again, nor your reckless moment of oversharing. 

And try as hard as you might, you cannot for the life of you remember what happened during the time you were in Silco’s office, meaning you may well have accidentally revealed more sordid details about your past.

But Silco acts as if nothing has happened, which you (rather desperately on your part) take as a good sign. 

Life continues as normal, your time now shared almost equally between practising your ballet routine and spending time with Silco. That is, until the evening Silco informs you that everything is ready for you to visit your house in Piltover.

Over dinner, he carefully tells you what to wear, what time you will be going, how close you need to be to him for the entire trip, blah blah blah. You barely listen to him in favour of mentally finalising your own plans to get the pills from under the bathroom sink without him noticing. 

Now, less than twenty four hours since your briefing, you find yourself climbing into a carriage outside The Drop, dressed in dark clothes and an overcoat at Silco’s request. 

Silco climbs in behind you, his thigh seemingly glued to yours with how close he decides to sit next to you. And with two knocks on the roof, you’re finally on your way Topside to visit your house, months after being abducted from it.

It almost feels surreal as you cross over the bridge, another carriage full of guards following close behind. You can’t help but recall that feeling of pure dread you’d felt when Oswald had accompanied you across the River and into Zaun. 

If all goes well, you’ll only have to make this journey once more before never making it again. You’ll be able to return to your life in Piltover. The life you’d worked hard for. 

Your disquiet must have been plain as day because Silco almost makes you jump when he takes your hand in his. 

“Are you alright, darling?” he asks gently. 

“Yes,” you say, shaking your head in an attempt to rid yourself of any bad memories and feelings. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

He pulls you even closer to his side, leaning down to murmur his reassurances against your hair. 

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m here.”

And as Silco’s lips press a chaste kiss against your head, you can’t help but huff out a sarcastic exhale disguised as a sigh. 

He was the biggest reason why you were nervous in the first place. If he wasn’t accompanying you on this trip, you probably wouldn’t be nervous at all. 

Instead of replying, you squeeze his hand in the hopes that he’ll read it as an expression of your relief. 

Once the carriage reaches the end of the bridge, it slows to a rolling halt. Silco lets you know he’ll only be a moment, and with another kiss pressed to your knuckles, he climbs out the carriage.

With the door left slightly ajar, you catch the makings of a hushed conversation between Silco and another voice, but you can’t tell who it is or what they’re saying.

And honestly, you don’t really care. All you care about is getting those pills. 

Silco gets back into the carriage and whatever had been communicated during the discussion had clearly gone his way, because you continue further into Piltover and closer to your old house. 

Immediately, your heart begins to thump in your chest, your foot tapping nervously against the floor of the carriage.

Every little sensory detail is picked up by your thrumming body as you slowly near your destination.

The sound of the tires rolling over the cobbled streets, the tick, tick, tick of the indicator as the carriage turns onto your old street.

Fuck. This needs to go right for you. It has to. 

After waiting for far too long in your opinion, despite it taking mere seconds to park up, you find yourself restlessly making your way out of the carriage. Silco’s long fingers delicately hold onto your own as you finally step out onto the street.

The unfamiliarity of the fresh air that hits your nostrils causes your heart to jump all the way into your throat. You’d gotten so used to the stale air of The Last Drop, you’d forgotten just how clean the air could be. 

Your old street is completely empty, which doesn’t strike you as unusual. Not many people ventured outside at this time of night and certainly nobody on your street was neighbourly to one another. 

Every curtain is drawn shut, sheltering you from any prying eyes. 

You can’t help but glance up at the dark night sky, feeling oddly relieved that you can finally see the stars again. The moonlight is so much brighter, so much purer than the artificial neon of Zaun. 

As you walk down the road to your house, you desperately run through the plan in your head, needing to cement it in your mind. 

You’re going to go into the house and pretend to search for the necklace in a few different spots. When Silco asks why you’re not sure where it is, you’re going to explain that you moved it around periodically to ensure its safety. Under a floorboard, behind a painting, behind a loose bit of skirting board. 

Then, after about twenty minutes of searching, you’re going to tell Silco that you need to use the bathroom. Once you’re alone and the door is locked, you’re going to get the pills, hide them in a pocket inside your coat, and return to Silco. 

After a few more minutes, you’re going to pretend to get upset and accuse one of your staff of stealing the necklace. Perhaps the girl who’d only worked there for a week before leaving for Ionia. Silco would then take you back home, where the next part of your plan would be put into action. 

You had everything figured out. Now, it was just a matter of executing it.

You finally allow your eyes to land on your house directly across the street, and just as you’re about to inform Silco that you need to cross the road, you spot something that immediately makes you frown.

The lights are on. 

And not just that, the curtains you’d paid a ridiculous amount of money for, solely to annoy your idiotic husband, had been replaced. 

Your frown soon turns to a shock when your gaze lands on the window of the lounge, a sliver of the front curtain open revealing a family happily playing a board game around a low coffee table. 

What the fuck?

You feel Silco’s fingers graze gently against your own, hanging limply by your sides, and you turn to him slowly, only to find him already watching you carefully. There’s no hint of surprise or confusion. 

Then, Silco begins to speak to you in a timbre that is full of grit and unmistakable confidence. 

“The most challenging lesson I learned in my youth is that in order to move on from our past, we must channel our pain into something worthwhile. Instead of letting our memories control us, we must harness them and use them to ameliorate ourselves.”

Your jaw goes slack as you listen to the beginning of his obviously rehearsed speech.

“This, my darling, is why I agreed to bring you back to this house. I’m here to help you move on from your past, so we can live our future together, despite the people who have betrayed us.”

There’s nothing to do but simply stare at him as Silco places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice somehow lowering even further. 

“If I could take away all the suffering you experienced at the hands of your vile ex-husband, I would do so in a heartbeat, my love,” he tells you with genuine hurt in his voice and expression. “But since I cannot, the best I can do is to help you on your journey of growth, your journey to fully transform into the strong, courageous person you already are.”

Silco’s voice takes on an incredibly soft edge, like it was created for you, and you alone. 

“I want to be there for you for the rest of your life. I want to take care of you, to submerge you entirely in the love you deserve, have always deserved,” he says, the tender look in his seafoam eye matching the timbre of his voice. 

Your breathing is just on the verge of heavy as you continue to glare at him, your body feeling numb in wake of the flood of emotions that threaten to drown you. 

Either he doesn’t notice your state of shock or he just ignores it because Silco momentarily glances up at your house again before shifting his entire body to face you fully. He smooths his hand down your arm to entwine his fingers with yours. 

“Where did you hide your mother’s necklace, darling? I will ensure the new tenants leave for an hour so we can find it and spend some quality time saying goodbye to each room. Then we can go home, together, and leave this chapter of your life behind.”

By now, your scattered emotions begin to tune into pure wrath at the sheer audacity of this self-entitled man.

How dare he ruin your life and then use it to teach you some bullshit life-lesson?

The breaths you take into your burning lungs finally tip over into near pants, whilst Silco clutches onto your hand, seemingly just as breathless from his own pretentious monologue. 

Just as you think you’ve reached boiling point, milliseconds away from shoving him as hard as you can into the middle of the empty road, an unfamiliar voice calls your full name questioningly from further down the street. 

Both you and Silco freeze.

Footsteps sound closer as your name is repeated and you dare to turn towards it, only to discover a lone Piltie man, his origins made obvious by his sleek clothes, haircut, and accent. 

His face lights up in recognition. 

“Oh, it is you! Excuse me for interrupting, but I’m a huge fan of yours,” he tells you excitedly, an enchanted smile crossing his face. “I absolutely loved you as Odette in Swan Lake.” 

Your lips part as your mind scrabbles to think of the best way to respond.

Should you politely thank him and hope he leaves before Silco can react negatively? Or should you scream for him to help you get away from the man who had kidnapped you and was keeping you hostage?

As if he could sense your plans, Silco’s grip on your hand tightens possessively.

And then the opportunity is gone because the man steps closer to you again, his smile widening in hope. 

“Can I get your autograph? I think I have a pen somewhere,” he says.

But as his hands search through his pockets, he sheepishly looks up at you once more before halting so suddenly, it’s like he’s been turned to stone.

You know in an instant that he’s finally spotted the man behind you because his expression drops into pure terror as he looks between you and Silco, who is breathing in your ear like he’s just run a marathon. 

The Piltie man clearly abandons his endeavour for your autograph because he slowly begins to turn away with wide eyes, in a way that you could imagine a gazelle would when it had come face-to-face with a tiger. Then, he suddenly breaks into a sprint, back the way he came.

He doesn’t get very far as Silco deftly steps around you and chases after him full-pelt, his gold-tipped dress shoes clicking neatly against the stones. 

Your attention is briefly pulled to the side at the arrival of a group of guards, never touching you, but their presence reminding you that there’s no point in running. 

You then watch in horror as Silco easily catches up to the man and violently shoves him to the ground. He climbs on top of him and wraps his fingers around his neck so quickly it’s like it’s second nature to him.

Silco wastes no time in squeezing until the man begins to make the most awful choking sounds. It’s like watching a man possessed, you decide, Silco’s two-toned eyes glaring down at the man with alarming intensity, as he helplessly bucks underneath the Kingpin, struggling against his iron grip.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the man slips into unconsciousness and it’s not until he does that Silco releases his clenched fingers from his neck. 

The man is clearly still alive, his chest expanding and contracting with every shallow breath, but your attention is focused solely on how feral Silco looks atop him. If he was breathless before, he’s practically panting now, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl and his usually smooth hair askew across his gleaming forehead. 

Then, he pulls himself to stand, stepping away from the man with a quick snap of his fingers. A few guards emerge from behind you and stride over to the unconscious man on the ground. 

Silco takes a deep, calming breath and smooths his hair back against his head before assuredly making his way back over to you, as if he hadn’t just ruthlessly attacked another person. 

Your gaze flits briefly to the guards who efficiently pick the man up and begin to carry him over to the second carriage. But as Silco approaches you, your eyes snap onto him, instinctively taking a petrified step backwards from him. 

He pauses, his features twisting into what you now know to be his look of hurt.

“It’s just me, sweetheart,” he tells you, somehow managing to sound both rough and gentle at the same time. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he adds when your eyes dart from his face to his hands. 

The hands he’d just used to choke out another man. 

You stay frozen as Silco carefully inches his way closer to you, until you let him gently put his arm around you. 

“There we go, darling. It’s alright. You’re alright,” he murmurs, his touches soft and awfully tender against your now trembling body. 

-

Silco clips and lights a cigar, unable to relax as he perches on the edge of the sofa in his office. A part of him hopes that someone interrupts him, given that he’d just informed his staff that the next person to enter his office would lose a finger.  

He sighs, taking a deep drag of the earthy smoke and exhaling it to the ceiling.

You’d been deathly silent the entire ride back home to the bar, in a way that concerned him far more than the times he’d watched you sob your heart out. 

Silent and robotic, even when he’d helped you out the carriage and walked you through the side door of the club, his hand on the small of your back the entire time. You’d pulled away before he could guide you into his office, making your way back to your bedroom and shutting the door quietly behind you. 

This was nothing like the time you’d both returned home from the market. Where he could practically feel your radiating anger and fear. 

Now he could feel nothing. 

Of course, he’d been forced to take care of the man who’d recognised you. He hadn’t killed the man. He hadn’t even hurt him (apart from knocking him unconscious, of course). 

Tied up in the basement for just a short hour, Silco had only needed to hold a knife for the man to sob like a school boy, desperately promising not to tell anyone about his encounter with Silco or you. 

Honestly, it’s like Silco doesn’t even need to try anymore. 

Once the man had insisted that he had no reason to reveal your true location, accompanied by one deadly threat, Silco had then instructed him to leave the country, sending Sevika with him to ensure he bought a ticket from the airport.

The man had been given approximately one week to pack his belongings, sell his house, and leave Piltover altogether, with the knowledge that Sevika will ruthlessly ensure the tasks are all completed. 

Silco could not afford people finding out you were now in his care. He’d spent a considerable amount of time these past few months creating and implementing the story that you’d run away to Ionia to escape your money problems. 

After Silco had stolen your keys from your coat pocket while you were sleeping, the day you’d first arrived at his home, he’d finally devised the story after receiving your records and discovering your increasing debt. 

Reluctantly contacting that snivelling excuse for a sheriff, Marcus, Silco had threatened him once more to enlist his help in getting the council to repossess your house. You were already so miserably behind on payments, it really didn’t take long for the council to agree. 

And once the rumours of your fleeing to Ionia had been successfully spread, courtesy of Oswald, the only thing left to do was collect your more personal belongings and bring them home to you.

The plan had been utterly foolproof, with only two people knowing of Silco’s involvement. 

Those same people had also worked with Silco to get him new keys to the house and a bribe over to the new residents. 

Silco had wanted to finally reveal what he already knew about your late husband, in an attempt to get you to finally open up about your past. He’d imagined that you’d show him around your old house, in a moment that would be both bittersweet and cathartic for you as you confronted your demons. 

And Silco would be there for you unwaveringly, your rock in the storm of your emotions. 

But of course, it just had to go wrong. 

Silco’s grip tightens on his cigar. 

Why did that idiot have to be there? Why couldn’t it just have gone right for him? 

Right now, you were supposed to be wrapped in his arms, receiving his comfort and love while you worked through your feelings. Not shut up in your room by yourself, probably terrified of him again.

Almost self-destructively, Silco pictures the look of pure horror he’d observed on your face after he’d caught the man and rendered him unconscious. 

His mind lingers on the image of that terribly raw expression before he abruptly stands and kicks the coffee table with enough force to send it scattering across the floorboards, a shout of rage escaping his scarred lips.  

And as quickly as it had come, it’s over, as Silco throws himself back down on the sofa in frustration. 

How the hell was he going to fix this? 

He’d spent so long trying to prove to you that you were safe with him and now he’d probably just convinced you of the opposite. 

He was trying so hard to keep you away from the violent side of his cutthroat business. 

But how could he get you to trust him when he couldn’t even trust himself not to lose it over every little thing that could possibly hurt you?

-

Sitting on the floor, your back against the bed, you stare blankly at the wardrobe doors across from you. 

The pills were gone. 

Well, they were probably still behind the panel under the bathroom sink, but for all intents and purposes in your grand plan, they were gone. 

You can’t stop replaying the scene of Silco choking out that poor man in the middle of the street. The feral look on his face. The hunch of his thin body. 

You’d never met somebody so violent yet so caring at the same time. Ironically, he was the exact opposite of your late husband, who had been positively horrid to you and disgustingly sweet to everybody else. 

Briefly, your tired mind flits to the ever-present question of your life: what now?

Maybe your last hope is the chem-baron performance. Maybe Silco will take you to the market again so you can get a weapon. Maybe. Maybe not.

You’re… exhausted. 

Exhausted from constantly thinking and acting and planning and re-planning. 

Maybe you should just stop fighting him and accept this new life of yours. 

Much, much later in the night, you’ve still not moved or even taken off your coat. So, with the customers and staff gone from the club, and in desperate need of a change of scenery, you silently make your way down to the bar floor. 

A guard follows you down, but you pay them no mind, arbitrarily picking a booth and climbing onto the plush seats so you can lie flat out on your back.

You gaze blankly at the ceiling of the booth until your tired eyes hover on a cluster of tiny, little glow-in-the-dark stars that somebody has stuck up there.

For the first time since you’d witnessed everything Topside, you begin to feel choked up.

Are you ever going to see real stars again? Or are you destined to be stuck down here in the depths of hell with none other than the devil himself? 

Speaking of, the man appears at your feet, a worried expression adorning his scarred face as he peers down at your wearied form.

He looks almost as drained as you do. 

Silco quietly takes a seat on the little space leftover where your feet don’t reach the edge of the cushion. He gently shuffles across and reaches to place your feet on his lap, but you snatch them away before he can, sitting up against the wall as you hug your knees to your chest.

To his credit, Silco doesn’t look angry at your denial of his comfort, but he does look upset, in that muted way of his. 

He clasps his hands together and places them on the table, staring down at them while you both sit in silence.

You surprise yourself moments later when your mouth opens to ask a reticent question. 

“Why were you even at the museum that day?”

A slight widening of his good eye tells you just how unexpected he finds your question. Then, his features shift into thoughtfulness, as if he is thoroughly considering his answer. 

“I wasn’t going to attend originally, I have always been loath to empty handouts from Topsiders,” he explains with a gentle wave of his hand. “But I felt something telling me to go, something… greater than myself.”

You’re about to scoff but the look on his face is so genuine, it somehow feels too disrespectful. 

“You believe in fate?”

Silco raises his head to glance at you, his soft frown indicating his sincerity. 

“I believe in making our own fate.”

That gives you pause, leaving you to think for a few moments about his character. After that whole monologue he’d made about using our past to mould our future, you begin to see how that would make sense to him. 

Then, your mind skips back to the man lying unconscious on the ground. 

“Why did you have to choke him out?” you ask quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the buttons on your coat. “He wasn’t going to do anything.”

“Because the officials in Piltover believe you’ve run off to Ionia to escape your debt problems,” he replies instantly. 

Your head snaps up to look at him. 

“What?”

“I needed to ensure that no-one would ask questions when you disappeared Topside, so I created a story that guaranteed that outcome,” he pauses to look at you tenderly. “I know that you’d nearly run out of money, sweetheart. This way, you’ll have no debt collectors searching for you.”

You can’t help the way your heart begins to sink in your chest.

No-one is looking for you. No-one knows you’re only a stone’s throw away from Piltover. They all believe you’re miles and miles away, not missing but avoiding debt collectors.

You breathe out a tiny little, “Oh.”

There’s a few beats of silence before Silco speaks again. 

“Would you like me to go back and get the necklace for you, darling? I’m afraid it’s too dangerous for you to come with me again, but I can fetch it for you myself if that would make you feel better,” he asks you in an incredibly soft tone. 

Your eyelids flutter closed for a brief moment. You need to come clean about the necklace, he’ll probably terrorise that poor family if you don’t.

Staring at your feet, you decide to be completely honest, for the first time in a long time. 

“There is no necklace. I made it up.”

Silco’s body stiffens in your periphery, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. 

He doesn’t even need to ask the question before you begin to answer. 

“I just wanted to go back. I felt like I never got the chance to say goodbye to everything,” you pause, running a hand through your hair as you subconsciously use Silco’s words against him. “I guess I just wanted to see it again so I could finally move on from it all.”

You finally dare to glance at his face, and you can’t help the pang of guilt that rings through you at his obvious hurt. 

“I wish you would have just told me that, darling,” he sighs. 

“I’m sorry for lying to you, Silco. I just didn’t think you’d let me go back if I didn’t have a specific reason,” you reply. 

“I will always listen to your wishes, my love. You don’t need to make up reasons to convince me otherwise,” he says, his hands unclasping as he turns his body to face you. 

Well, you don’t believe that for one second. You’re pretty sure he wouldn’t have even agreed to take you Topside if the incident at the market hadn’t happened. But you’re too tired to argue. 

Silco reaches his hand towards you in an obvious attempt to rest it on your knee, but your body reflexively flinches away. 

He abruptly freezes, long fingers hovering in the air above your knees. Then, he slowly retracts it and places both hands in his lap. 

“I… I am sorry if I scared you again, my dove, I was just trying to protect you. I will never break the promise I made to you,” he explains carefully. 

You nod, not making eye contact with him. 

“I mean it, darling. My touch will never bring you harm again. I only wish to care for you, to worship you,” he emphasises, almost as if he’s convincing himself more than you. 

And honestly, you believe him. He hadn’t made one sharp move against you since that awful day in the market. And he certainly hadn’t broken the promise he’d made to you in your studio, clearly adamant on keeping it.

Deep down, you don’t really care that he hurts other people. Hell, you’ve hurt plenty of people in your time growing up in Zaun. As long as Silco doesn’t hurt you, you don’t really care what he does. 

“How did you find out about my husband?” you ask him, eyes watching his reaction anxiously. 

The corner of Silco’s lip quirks up, probably amused by the memory of your drunken escapade. 

It irks you enough to metaphorically push against him, in that destructive way you always seem wont to do. 

“You already knew, didn’t you? Before I confessed it to you when I was drunk. You already knew, which is why you weren’t mad or upset,” you ask with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Yes, I already knew,” he confirms after a short huff of breath. “I requested your records shortly after I brought you here.”

You assume most people might be worried at the thought of someone else going through your personal records, but you’re not because you’ve seen your records and know exactly what they contain.

Nothing of importance.

That is, nothing of your past and certainly nothing about what actually happened to your husband. 

“May I ask you about him?” Silco asks with a surprising amount of reverence.

“Sure,” you reply, with a little shrug of your shoulders.

May as well. 

You expect him to ask about how you met, how long you were together. You know, all the usual questions you’ve been asked about a million times by stuffy Pilties who just want to hear about an unrealistic and quite frankly, untrue romance.

Of course, you should know by now that Silco shatters any and all expectations. 

“How did he pass?”

Your initial reaction is to roll your eyes. You should have expected a fellow murderer and child of the Undercity to ask about death first. 

“He had a heart attack,” you tell him, automatically using your carefully rehearsed tone of shaky indifference mixed with a hint of grief. The tone you’ve grown so accustomed to using when speaking of your late husband.  

Silco hums and you frown for a moment before you blurt out something entirely unexpected.

“I didn’t love him.”

Gods, you must be more tired than you thought you were. That, or maybe you’re just sick and tired of pretending all the time. 

Silco’s head tips to look at you sideways, seemingly intrigued as he inches ever so slightly closer to you. 

“Did you ever love him?” he asks, and you could swear his voice has become hoarse with the question. Perhaps even breathless. 

A beat. Then a word that turns into a croaked whisper.

“No.” 

At this, Silco appears to let out some of the tension you’d somehow not noticed his body was holding. 

“He never really cared about me. He just wanted someone to control, somebody to make him feel powerful,” you continue, trying to shake the wobble in your voice. 

“You deserved better.”

You finally meet Silco’s gaze as his voice cuts through your internal struggle. 

The sardonic side of you wants to laugh and ask, what, like him?

Can being kidnapped and held prisoner really be defined as better?

But you can’t deny that he’s been more loving and caring than anyone else in your life, which only makes it all the more confusing for you.

“You’re safe with me, darling. I will never let any harm come to you,” he tells you with candour.

You don’t doubt it. If that was how he reacted when someone asked for your autograph, you don’t even want to know what would happen if someone tried to injure you.

It might be because it’s so late and you’re utterly drained, or it might be because the atmosphere is the most raw it’s ever been between you two, but you decide to ask a question that’s been bugging you since the start of it all. 

You look up at him with an expression that is almost entirely unmasked. 

“Why me, Silco? Why are you going to all this effort for me?”

He pauses for a second before fully turning to you, the most honest and open you’ve ever seen his body language.

Silco places his hand flat out on the cushion in front of you, like he wants to touch you, but carefully chooses not to after your previous rejection. 

Then, he speaks like the universe has known his confession since the dawn of time itself. 

“Because I love you.”

Your breath catches as if it’s been stolen and Silco smiles ardently in response. 

In complete shock, you finally allow him to gently take your hand and manoeuvre your body until you’re curled into his side. Your knees press together and lean sideways against his thighs, letting him wrap an arm around your waist. 

Did he really just say that? And mean it?

Silco’s hand sneaks inside your coat and traces soothing circles on your hip, whilst his other hand holds yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you process his words. 

You don’t know how you feel, how you’re supposed to feel. 

Light. You feel a lightness in your chest.

Something dangerously close to relief.

The devil has just confessed his love for you and you think you might feel… 

Glad? 

-

PART 8

-

A/N: welp, that was by far one of the most difficult chapters i’ve ever written. i nearly melted my (already very smooth) brain trying to plan it all out and make sure everything was logical to both the story and the character’s emotions… 

Hope it worked! 🙃

Also, I just wanted to say that you’re all worthy of love and respect, and you’re all capable of being loved, no matter how anybody else makes you feel <3

-

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 

[thebuckblogimo]

A jumble of thoughts on a "Monday Moanin.'"

April 3, 2023

People my age--in Michigan, at least--will remember the late Detroit Free Press columnist Bob Talbert. At the start of each week he wrote a piece called "Out of My Mind on a Monday Moanin.'" Here's my attempt at something similar:

Why is it that screw manufacturers persist in making fasteners with "star" heads and other odd shapes. Seems to me they should be "standardized," i.e., able to be turned with either a Phillips head or flat-head screwdriver.

Phrases such as "Dear Valued Customer" or "team members" (when referring to employees) don't ring true for me.

I've always been envious of people with prominent eyebrows. Wish I had them.

I've tried all sorts of body wash products. However, a good old-fashioned bar of Ivory soap still smells the cleanest to me. After all, it's "99 and 44/100 percent pure."

For some reason I still have trouble when trying to properly use the word "existential." Same for "fraught" and "co-opt."

Another tune I've never heard a bad version of is "Stranger On The Shore." Originally recorded by clarinetist Acker Bilk in 1962, my favorite interpretation is by tenor saxophonist Houston Person.

I wonder why people don't do "calisthenics" any more. They were the staples of football practice when I was in grade school and high school: trunk rotations, neck rotations, bridges, shoulder rolls, running in place, jumping jacks and sit-ups while someone holds your feet to the ground.

Back when you could hold a newspaper in your hands, I rarely spotted typos in stories and editorials. Now I see them daily in the online versions I monitor.

When I was a kid I thought it was the coolest thing when I first noticed a party invitation that said, "8:00 p.m. until ?" Loved the mischief that conjured up in my mind.

There is a whole category of words that sound cool to me. Three examples: "shiitake," "charcuterie," and "Kamchatka." (Sort of like the sounds I make when I sneeze.)

I take credit for inventing the "foot shake," as when the sole of the shoe of one person meets the sole of the shoe of another person, after one of them says, "Slip me some sole."

My favorite craft brew is Bell's Two Hearted; my favorite "water beer" is Yuengling (not the light version).

I have no problem with twisting the top off a bottle of beer, but I much prefer using a bottle opener.

When it comes to mass produced domestic beer, I generally prefer "high octane" types as opposed to "light beer." But when I do drink light beer my favorites are, in this order: LaBatt Blue Light, Busch Light, Coors Light, Miller Lite and the late, great Old Milwaukee Light. But never Bud Light. (Stay thirsty, my friends.)

When my favorite football or basketball team is playing on the tube, I prefer watching an important game alone, as opposed to with a large group of people. I see more, notice more that way.

Going all the way back to fifth grade basketball, I can't recall a single kid who wore "0" on his jersey. Maybe that's why today I still can't get used to seeing it on football and basketball uniforms.

I love the numbers 26, 84, 90 and 95 (with a special shout-out to number 59) on football jerseys. My college friends will know why.

I dislike seeing an athlete wearing number 1. I interpret it as saying, "Hey, look at me."

Whoever selects the musical interludes between stories broadcast on NPR has amazing taste. If only I were quicker on the draw to Shazam them so that I could identify the name of each song and it's artist.

I heard the Who's "Pinball Wizard" over the speakers at the gym the other day. I still think it's an ATT--"all-time-terrible."

Last year while visiting my daughter in Chicago, I purchased one chocolate covered glazed donut at Do-Rite Donuts for $3.45. Last fall, while perusing my high school's 1963 year book, I noticed an ad for Golden Boy Donuts with a sign in the background that indicated a dozen donuts cost 75 cents.

I was never one to win spelling bees in grade school, but I eventually got pretty good at spelling words. Now, I seem to be as crappy at it as I ever was.

During the years before retirement, Debbie and I owned three wonderful dogs (Angela, Erma and Wanda). Now, sometimes we walk our kids' dogs (Gadget, Rambo, Gonzo and Paya). It kills me when they try to back-kick grass onto their deposits after doing their duty.

[merrrrrrrrry]

hiiii 🫶🏻

that sounds like so much fun!! it’s so cool that you get to do that for your internship and that you enjoy it so much!!

so i was studying accounting but to start i was doing like a bunch of business classes and the law class i took was super introductory and focused primarily on contract law (i think) and so that’s how i was able to take it even though i wasn’t studying law!! i still don’t understand why my professor wanted us to go to a hearing as part of our final but it was interesting regardless 🤷🏼‍♀️

as for the tumblr edits i looked through your tag and i think they’re really nice!!! that sounds super frustrating honestly. it’s horrible to be so enthusiastic about something and have the people essentially running it not put in the effort to keep it enjoyable for everyone 😔

oooh i’ve never heard of that before, what is tiffin? it’s nice that you got to enjoy lunch with a group of good people!! and i love that for you!!! a good sandwich is always a bright spot in any day 🥹

it sucks you’re having trouble with the book and completing the review, but i’m sure you’re doing a good job regardless!!! hopefully it’ll all get easier along the way as you become more familiar with your area of study 🫶🏻 you were able to get into your program without any preparation so you must be considerably more prepared and capable than you feel right now 💗

okay some things about me..genuinely would spend every waking minute doing crafts if i could. like i don’t even care what i’m doing i just like creating things 🥺 my favorite drink is genuinely so boring i just really like water dhshshs like 9 times out of 10 if given the choice of drinks im gonna pick water! as for music i try to listen to a lot of different genres but i generally stick to pop (mostly bc 1d and the boys are pop-y) and then whatever like 4/5 songs im obsessed with!

good luck on your assignment, im sending you all the spare energy i have 💗💗

-✨holiday pal✨

(i hope this sends okay because i wrote it out in my notes app and copy pasted it bc it was getting incredibly long djshshs)

Hellloooo 💕💕

I'm so so so so so so sorry for the late reply

I do the same thing of writing in notes and copying here sometimes 🤣🙈

That's really cool. Contract law will be introduced as a subject to us this coming semester. I could talk to you about it!

Yeah, just today the posts I made which they approved was supposed to be posted and a few hours before posting time, one of the seniors suddenly had a problem with it and I had to do one of the things all over

Tiffin! Omg I keep forgetting it's such an Indian thing. So this is the Wikipedia definition - Tiffin is an Indian English word for a type of meal. It refers to a light breakfast or a light tea-time meal at about 3 p.m., consisting of typical tea-time foods. In certain parts of India, it can also refer to the midday luncheon or, in some regions of the Indian subcontinent, a between-meal snack.

For me midday luncheon is the best word for it. You'd eat breakfast at home, then have tiffin during break time at school and come back home and have lunch. But right now I'm working the whole day, so i take my lunch with me to court in a tiffin box(mine is just like an off-brand Tupperware kinda thing) and that's my tiffin.

I had Poha today in the morning and chicken curry and pulao for lunch. Sunday special!! What about you?

Thank you so much for that. I pray you're right and i finish my work on time. "Tumhare mooh mein ghee shakkar". It literally means may your mouth be full of ghee and sugar but actually it means what you said was very sweet and may what you said come true.

Water is my favourite drink!!! Oh god, I love water. And I love analysing how different the tastes of water in different places are, not out loud, just to myself.

I admire people who do arts and crafts soo so much. What kind of crafts do you do? The max that I can do is cross stitching.

Have a beautiful day 💕💕💕

[topsytervy]

“what is this? what are we really?” & “you’re jealous” for Nico Hischier?

Maybe they’re fwb and he gets jealous of someone else?

Warnings: mentions of a fwb relationship (nothing too in detail just references), swearing, spelling/grammar mistakes

~~~~

You and Nico had a complicated relationship, kind of a one step forward, three steps back sort of deal. Every time you thought you understood your relationship or thought you made progress towards a more serious relationship, you were proved wrong by him asking you if you could find a different ride home before leaving with someone else. Then the next night he’d be in your bed or you in his as if nothing happened the night prior.

Realistically, you probably should’ve ended whatever the hell agreement you two had after the second time he pulled that but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Now here you were, sat at the bar after another devils victory as Nico chatted with a girl at the other end of the bar.

“why so blue?” You lifted your gaze to meet John's and he sat down next to you, raising his hand to catch the bartender’s attention before ordering both of you another drink.

“What’s going on up there?” He tapped a finger against your temple and you shrugged, thanking the bartender as he placed your drinks in front of you.

You looked back at Nico and John followed your gaze, watching Nico talking with a girl.

“I wish he would make up his mind on what he wants or who he wants.” You sighed, going back to your drink.

John placed an arm around your shoulders and you rested your head against his arm. “listen, I guarantee that he knows what he wants, he just doesn’t know what you want.”

You scoffed lightly and John moved his arm from your shoulder to your hand. “Come on. If he’s not gonna ask the prettiest girl in the room to dance , then I will without any complaint.”

You smiled lightly before downing the rest of your drink, John doing the same before he stood up, helping you out of your chair and leading you towards the dance floor.

**

Nico’s gaze drifted from the girl in front of him towards the bar where you sat before his eyes widened, your chair and glass empty.

His eyes scanned the sea of people before he turned to the girl in front of him. “Excuse me. I have to find someone.”

As Nico pushed his way through the crowd, he bumped into Miles and he sighed with relief. “have you seen y/n?”

“Yeah. She’s with Marino.”

“I’m sorry?”

Miles grabbed Nico’s wrist and pulled him in the spot where he was standing before directing his captains gaze to you and Nico felt his jaw clench. There you were with John, your arms around his shoulders as his were around your waist, a smile on your face before you laughed as John whispered something in your ear.

“What the hell is she doing?”

“hey, you don’t get to pull that.” Miles told him.

“Pull what?”

“you know what. Listen, you ditched her at the bar to go chat up that girl and y/n/n is here to have fun. John’s making sure she’s having fun. She’s in good hands.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Yeah. That’s called jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh, you’re jealous.” Miles grinned before clapping his friend on the shoulder. “think of it this way, Nico. Would you prefer or dance with John, someone we know who we know is a great guy and has no ill intentions, or a random person who we don’t know and have no idea what their intentions are?”

Nico looked at Miles and once he realized he wanted an answer, Nico grumbled. “John.”

“Exactly. Now go have a water, captain. Simmer down.” Miles gave him a shove towards the bar and Nico begrudgingly left, throwing one last glare over his shoulder.

**

“I’m going to find Nico. See if he’s still around and ready to leave.” You told John over the music and he nodded, leaning forward to speak in your ear.

“I’ll come with. It’s packed.”

You smiled, letting him take your hand and guide you through the crowd.

It didn’t take long for you guys to find Nico, sitting at the bar as a girl talked to him, his eyes on you and John before they flickered down to your hands. He finished off his water before catching a bartenders attention, saying something to her before she nodded and walked away.

Before you could open your mouth, Nico was talking.

“Ready to go?” you nodded and Nico switched his gaze to John, “I got it from here. Thanks.”

John gave your hand a squeeze before letting go, heading off to find some of the other guys. You watched John fade into the crowd as Nico was handed back his card, signing the receipt, handing it back with a thank you before giving the girl next to him a smile and taking your hand, leading you towards the door.

“That was a little rude.” you said quietly once you were outside.

“What was?”

“Well, you could’ve at least said bye to the girl you were talking to. That and you were a little short with John.”

Nico shrugged, opening the passenger door for you. You climbed in, buckling up as Nico shut the door and walked over to the driver side.

The drive was quiet between you two, the only sound being the soft music playing in the background and when Nico pulled in the parking lot of your apartment complex, you unbuckled, opening the door and getting out.

You heard Nico shut off the car and open his door, getting out before catching up with you, grabbing your hand and guiding you towards the elevator.

Nico took his hand from yours, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side as you two waited for the elevator, pressing a kiss to your temple.

When you finally approached your apartment, he grabbed your keys from your pocket, unlocking your door to let the both of you inside, hanging them up as he closed the door before kicking off his shoes, helping you put of yours afterwards.

He lead you to your bedroom, grabbing your pajamas from a drawer before tossing the clothes on the bed and grabbing the bottom of your shirt.

“I’m not drunk, Nico. I can take care of myself.” You told him and he backed off, leaving your room and heading into your bathroom to grab a makeup wipe.

When he came back, you were dressed and pulling back the covers on your bed.

“Hey, lets get your makeup off first.” He said, walking over and you sighed, letting him wipe off your makeup and watching as he threw away the wipe.

Nico walked towards the drawer where he kept his sweatpants and tee shirt whenever he stayed over and got dressed, climbing into bed as you stayed standing, staring at him.

“come on,” he beckoned you over but you stayed where you were.

“What is this? Like, what are we really?”

Nico propped himself up on his elbows. “what do you mean?”

“I mean that you say that we’re friends with benefits and you go and chat up other girls and stuff but then you do shit like this and get all pissy when I’m talking and dancing with other guys. That’s not how someone who just wants a hook up buddy acts. So, what are we?”

Nico sighed as he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know, okay? Its complicated. Everytime I think that I’m okay with what we have going on, you do something that makes me second guess it. Like tonight, when you were dancing with John, I wanted to march over there and pull toy away from him but miles made me walk away. I sat there for an hour watching you dance with him like it was only you two and that fucking killed me.”

“well, you didn’t seem to mind ditching me at the bar when you saw that one girl looking at you. That killed me Nico. The fact that we have all this history together beyond just being fuck buddies and you just left me there,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking down, “I think that’s what kills me most. Seeing you go to all these other girls for a night and then you come crawling back to me for two weeks only to repeat the cycle. Every time I think that I have you and that we can be something more than just this, you show me that I can’t have you.”

Nico swallowed before opening his arms, “come here.”

You hesitated before walking over, climbing into bed and letting Nico wrap his arms around you.

“You can have me. I will gladly let you have me.” He mumbled as he held you, resting his cheek on top of your head as you curled into his chest.

“don’t mess with me like that. If you don’t mean it, don’t say it.” You whispered.

“You can have me, y/n/n. Anytime, anywhere. I'm yours.” He told you, kissing the top of your head as he held you close.

“Promise?" You asked as you felt your eyes grow heavy.

"I promise," Nico told you, dipping his head down to kiss your cheek, “We have a lot to talk about tomorrow, sweetheart.” You managed to nod before letting Nico’s warmth and the sound of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

~~~~

[milkb0nny]

can we have samuel x reader on a picnic

(｡･ω･｡)

heck yes! Finally I can make Samuel less of an ass and more of a perfect ass boyfriend! 😭🌼💕 This will be wholesome! >:3

Picnic dates are my one and go! If you have any other character you wanna suggest GO FOR IT! 🌼 I'll absolutely love to write it.

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡ 🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡

𝗦𝗮𝗺𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀/𝗼 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲

webtoon lookism: Samuel Seo

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡ 🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡

Inviting you to join him:

🍈 Usually Samuel is a more business like when it comes to dates. Taking you out for dinner or dragging you on some business trips was your way to spent time with your boyfriend. But this time he asked you something completely out of the ordinary: "Darling, do you want to do a picnic with me?"

🍈 Of course you agree to that and more than happy, plan cute ouftits you're gonna wear. An adorable green coat or white loafers? What about a golden necklace? You never spent so much thoughts into an outfit. This date will be special.

🍈 He picks you up in his car but you can't find any clues for a picnic. You worry a little that he just joked with you, but his outfit is more chill and comfortable than usual. Luckily for you, he stops before a small forest and takes you with him. You don't know it yet, but he prepared everything in beforehand.

He wears this to your picnic date (reference):

🍈 A casual look is rare for his expensive appearance. But on a picnic date everything is a little easier and a suit isn't suited for it. He wanted to surprise you with his clothes.

🍈 His red sweater will be yours in the end of the day. He wears a shirt underneath. Because you begged him for that cherry red piece of clothing, he gifted it to you. He's wholesome with you alone. All his negative characteristics vanish when he's around you.

This is where he takes you:

🍈 Samuel walks to you to a beautiful lake where some frogs and ducks have a great time. You're happy he prepared so much for the date and for you. It cheers you up, making you really glad your boyfriend can leave his attitude behind.

🍈 He prepared pillows, extra blankets and everything you both need. He snacked you favorite books before you noticed. For more you couldn't wish - it was a perfect spot, under a beautiful tree and the sun made it warm enough to drink some cold beverages.

🍈 It's gonna be about lunchtime when you two arrive and early evening when you head back home. It's a long time but you enjoy every single second with him.

🍈 The fresh smell of water and blooming flowers supports the dreamlike place. Samuel's cologne gets overpowered by nature itself - not that you mind it.

This is the food and drinks you both eat:

🍈 Tasty crackers and expensive cheese will stand there, connected with pricey wine (or rich orange juice, if you dislike alcohol).

🍈 He also got you your favorite type of bread and good ham to eat it with. He won't tell you, but I will now: he notes down good you really enjoy to remember how to surprise you. It's a small action Samuel does whenever you say "delicious". You deserve the best of the best; your his partner after all.

🍈 Red velvet cake for the both of you. That was a suggestion you made and he was in charge of getting one. Sweet and delicious desserts cheer you up and he loves seeing you smile with these red happy cheeks.

🍈 Fruits will be there too. Samuel doesn't care too much about your diet. Making sure you get enough vitamins is his second job though. You had to smile when you saw the grapes and some green apples in a basket.

This is how the picnic goes:

🍈 The picnic goes well; Samuel is really happy. He watches you feed ducks, point at butterflies and reading your favorite book. He wanted to get you out of the stressful city life for once. The reason why he didn't suggest a picnic earlier was the pressure he had as well. This date lived longer in his head than you imagine.

🍈 He will play some music and dance with you around the lake, leaving every worry behind. It frees you and you look like a perfect matching couple, swinging around and laughing.

🍈 As always, this man showers you in compliments and adores every single thing of you. If you have long hair, he will braid it and if you have short hair, he'll go through it with his gentle fingers while he talks to you.

🍈 You also play some card games; UNO or blackjack. You feel like you're teenagers again.

🍈 The picnic becomes a lovely memory the both of you share. Kisses, a lot of laughing and in general really wholesome vibes. You won't drink much alcohol either and the fresh air blows negative energy out of your bloodstream.

🍈 In general, it was a great date and you're happy to have someone special. Samuel has many sides; some are very stern and strict about work, others are more gentle and open minded. In the end he's a good boyfriend to you, and only you. You're aware of his God complex (as I call it) but you don't feel it at all. Rather, you're his majesty.

🍈 the picnic allows you to speak about deeper thoughts. The calming environment you are in makes you feel save. In all the work you do, you rarely speak about your inner feelings and what's been bothering you. Samuel is grateful you share your thoughts with him and he feels how you enjoy the resting weather and aura. He will talk to you about bothers of his as well but he won't go too deep; some things are better unsaid and some things you don't need to know.

🍈 Samuel will nap for about an hour when he notices you're deep invested in your book. You took a picture of him and of course he looked flawless. Samuel laughs when you show it to him after he woke up. His heart ticks for you and you taking pictures of him makes him shine bright.

🍈 Be aware his flirty personality won't go away just because you're at a wholesome place. He'll neck and peck you, kiss you and tease you as you're used to it.

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[uppermocns-moved]

if you’re taking requests maybe roadtrips with eren, jean, armin and connie?

road trips

oh my god this is the greatest idea i’ve ever heard. 

eren, jean, armin, connie + road trips

(going on a road trip with all four of them at the end)

cw: fairly gender-neutral, modernverse, weed references

𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝗴𝗲𝗿

eren insists on driving the whole time, no matter how long the trip is.

his phone is plugged into the aux because “my car, my rules” but he doesn’t complain when you unlock his phone and start picking songs. 

forcing him to pull into a drive-through so he can eat real food, not just the 44 oz of mountain dew and monster energy he got from the gas station before you left.

hand-feeding him french fries.

playing i spy when it’s too dark to see anything, or on long highway stretches where the scenery doesn’t change. 

“i spy... something blue.” “is it the sky?” “you’re so good at this, babe.”

it’s very easy to talk him into impulsive detours, even if they’re in the opposite direction – he may be the one driving, but he’s relying solely on you for instructions. just tell him where you’re going and he’ll take you there.

“___ is only a two hour drive from here! we should go!” “yeah? okay.” 

driving with the windows down and enjoying the cool nighttime air.

car-camping in national parks – putting the seats down in the back and throwing together your bed for the night, sitting on the hood of his car to look at the stars with no light pollution, getting baked and watching a dumb show off his phone before going to sleep. 

at this point, eren realizes he forgot to pack his phone charger so you’ve gotta share.

getting breakfast together. eren’s not a morning person, but he can’t be grumpy when you’re looking so cute and sleepy in one of his hoodies. 

eren driving with one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, occasionally lifting it up for a kiss as a silent thank you for being there with him. as if you’d dream of being anywhere else. 

𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗶𝗻

listening to the radio to keep things spontaneous, usually the classic rock stations. 

jean taking his hands off the wheel because he needs to air-bass along.

listening to true crime podcasts when the radio cuts out – it’s funny watching jean’s face twist up in disgust during crime scene details, and sometimes he yells in response as if the podcasters can hear him. you also play detective about who you think did it – loser buys food at the next stop. 

music keeps things energetic at the start, but podcasts keep his mind stimulated when he’s been driving for a while. 

the original plan is to split the driving, but you end up falling asleep with your face smushed against the window and jean doesn’t have the heart to wake you up. he doesn’t mind driving the rest of the way.

stopping for food every couple of hours to make sure you’re both eating properly, not just snacks. you do have plenty of snacks, though. 

jean going "uh – excuse me” whenever you open a bag of something and sticking his hand out. he’s like a dad, he always needs a handful of whatever you’re having. sharing is caring. 

jean always packs a lot of unnecessary things, and he will reserve the right to say i told you so when his double-hammock comes in handy.

limited stops along the way (minus food/gas/bathroom) – getting there relatively early means you can relax in the hotel room and maybe explore/go out for dinner later that night.  

when you take over driving, jean is a big window-watcher and takes a lot of pictures of the mountains/scenery. 

already making plans on cool things you can do on the way back, when you have no time restraints – day trips, scenic rest stops, hikes, etc. 

𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘁

stopping at a starbucks first-thing to get drinks for the road (he makes sure to get some food too so you’re not just running off a venti iced coffee)

splitting the driving – armin is the better (and calmer) navigator so you usually take the first and final shift. 

dozens of cute polaroids to put in your adventure scrapbook

researches fun (and romantic) things you can do when you get to your destination and reads them aloud to you. you come up with a plan together. that waterfall hike sounded really fun. 

armin takes lots of videos because he likes making little montages for his socials

you’re in control of the music. armin likes when you show him new artists – he’ll slowly nod his head along and inevitably add the songs to his spotify. he really likes snail mail. 

he takes over driving when you get tired – he likes holding your hand when he drives, or sometimes you’ll lean over and rest your hand on his thigh.

armin trying not to melt when you put on one of his hoodies for warmth – you have your own, but his are comfier and they smell like him. 

silly games to pass time like i spy or looking for different license plates. it’s fun until armin gets clever and spies things like the mile marker from 10 miles back. 

you insist you aren’t going to fall asleep because you wanna keep him company, but you end up curling into your pillow and dozing off mid-conversation. it’s adorable, and he doesn’t mind. he’ll usually turn on a podcast or an audiobook. 

armin stays awake the whole time but it catches up with him once you reach your destination – all he wants to do is cuddle and rest up

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

leaving a day in advance or very early in the morning because you stop at every tourist attraction along the way.

scenic lookout? let’s go there. world’s biggest ball of yarn? fuck, count me in. meteor craters? already merging onto the exit. dinosaur bones? you read my mind. 

picking up cool souvenirs along the way like geodes and stickers to put on his water bottle. maybe a funky lil alien to hang from the rearview mirror, along with his 20 tree air fresheners. 

taking cute, cheesy pictures of and with each other – connie posing with his arms out like he’s holding the mountain, standing in front of national park signs, etc. 

you collaborated on a road-trip playlist in advance (it’s 12 hours long)

somehow you end up listening to veggie tales or absolutely losing it until the car starts rocking to britney spears

"i love this song” to every song, as if he didn’t put it on the playlist 

listening to connie sing along and butcher all the lyrics. impressive falsetto, though. 

arsenal of snacks – more than you realistically need

screaming every time you see a new “welcome to ___” sign

“WELCOME TO ___!” “WOOOOOO!”

connie rocking the socks with slides. it’s comfortable. 

pulling through drive throughs every once in a while for food, continuously forgetting to throw out the trash bag from your last stop. 

𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺

stopping at the gas station to fill up the gas tank and stock up on snacks for the road – almost everything from the candy aisle, giant bags of doritos, slushies, energy drinks. nobody really thinks to get actual food.

the driving is split between eren “i’m serious, pull the fucking car over or i’m gonna piss myself, jean” jaeger and jean “eren stop honking my fucking horn, traffic won’t go any faster” kirstein. armin is the navigator because they’ll both get everyone lost.

everyone has their turn with the aux cord – until connie cracks himself up playing the same song over and over, then you have to pry it from eren’s cold, dead hands.

so many pictures

impulsive stops at tourist attractions.

playing dumb games to pass the time (quickly turns into replacing one word on each sign with “poop” because they’re all a bunch of children).

finally stopping at a diner later that night for real food

making it to the campsite and setting up tents and hammocks

getting baked around the campfire and telling spooky stories

connie complaining and scaring himself while he wanders off into the dark forest to find a spot to piss

smores (ofc)

going on group hikes and jumping into lakes/down waterfalls together. video of jean belly-flopping.

[crowdedimagines]

Familiar Love - Harry Styles

harry and y/n have a hard time staying out of each other’s arms, not that there’s a place they’d rather be Famous!Y/n

“Well well well.” Harry grins, opening his door wider to his home for me. 

“Why are you acting all surprised? You invited me here.” I get on my toes to steal a fast peck from him as I walk by. I walk into the living room I have grown very familiar with over the years. Harry’s London home never changes, his one taste of consistency.  

“Of course I did, we’re both in London at the same time.” 

“I know.” I roll my eyes, backing up the stairs to his room. He matches my steps evenly, pacing us like predator and prey. I slide my jacket off my shoulder, ditching it for the floor. His eyes never leave mine. If I didn’t know this house so well, I would be on my ass by now. 

“It’s been a while since this has worked out.” He presses a stolen kiss to my cheek, then another and another, “I’ve missed you.” 

“Missed me or a muse?” I bite down lightly on his earlobe, he backs me into his bedroom finally. 

“Always miss you.” 

“That’s right, you are pretty obsessed with me.” I smirk. 

“M’not obsessed with you.” He defends, finally pulling his face away from my neck. 

“Well your discography would beg to differ.” 

“Shh.” He works on the spot he knows would normally occupy my mind enough that I couldn’t banter. The spot just below my ear where my neck and jaw meet. 

“Temporary Fix, Perfect, Change Your Ticket-”

“Alright alright” Harry rolls his eyes, dimples showing up on his cheeks while he fights a smile.

“-and that’s not even counting your solo career” I tease, letting him back me onto his bed. “Only Angel, She-” 

“You’re such an ass sometimes.” He shakes his head, as if in disbelief, but his smile only grows wider. 

“What?” I scoff feigning shock, “You love my ass.” He presses a kiss to my collarbone. 

“Yes, I do. Now shut up so I can love on you for the first time in eight months.” 

-     -     -  

Harry and I were the worst and best things to ever happen to each other. We met when we were too young. My career had just started, I had a singular album to my name and was lucky to open for any band that was on a tour. Harry was a couple years into One Direction by the time we met. 

It was on a red carpet, thankfully not my first, but my first time being on the carpet for an award show that I actually had a nomination for. This was huge for me. My album had done well, but never expected a recognition like this. 

I met Niall before I met Harry. I had bumped into him walking in and he complimented my music, even claiming one of his mates ‘couldn’t get enough of it’. When he said that I wasn’t expecting him to walk me over to meet the rest of the band. Harry had been the ‘mate’ Niall had been referring to. 

I lost that night, to Ariana Grande, who in my own opinion deserved it more than me. That night didn’t feel like a loss though, because I got Harry out of it. We quickly became friends, texting, calling, facetiming any time we got the opportunity. One Direction was touring on a constant cycle, and I had just finished mine. I was in the process of writing my sophomore album, Harry flew me out and I ended up staying for the rest of the tour. 

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that we started dating, the calls and giddy smiles were enough already to clue in everyone around us. I was able to get a glimpse at the world he lived in with his stardom, and soak in every second he wasn’t on stage. It didn’t take long for fans and the public to catch on. A few too many paparazzi pictures at each concert venue to avoid. 

Both of our managements allowed us to openly date, officially coming out to everyone with PDA and everything. It was amazing. I flew back home to Los Angeles to record my second album and before I could blink I was touring it. 

Things got hard for Harry and I at that point, we could never manage to be in the same city, or get time off to visit the other. My name was quickly becoming a household one, and One Direction had yet to ever even stall in popularity. 

It broke us both completely that after three happy years together, we had to call it quits. Neither of us were ready to give up our lives and it was no longer working to never see each other. We both needed to feel loved, and on opposite ends of the planet it wasn’t enough anymore. It was only a few months after our split that One Direction went on hiatus. 

Harry and I remained close. Some would say too close. It started with just being friendly whenever we saw each other at events or things with mutual events. It took one slip up that sent us back into each other’s arms. It was a New Year's party, we agreed to be with each other, because we didn’t have anyone else to kiss at midnight. 

Once you get a taste for someone you never stopped loving, it gets pretty hard to stop. So that’s how it all began. Harry and I decided to see each other, date, love, fuck, anytime we both happened to be in the same city. It didn’t happen as often as you would think. We both still had home across the world, and varying tour schedules. We both had on and off again partners, that then the deal would be off, but neither of our partners were ever in the picture for very long. For years it went on like this. It was heartbreak all over again though, once we knew that someone had to leave. 

-     -     -

“Well, that was fun! It’s been a while, Styles.” I let out a sigh to try and gain back my breath. We practically just ran a marathon. Maybe two. He does the same, a grin plastered to his face. 

“Too long.” He tilts his head to press a kiss to my bare shoulder. 

“Well I do believe a plane works two ways.” I turn on my side to face him, my head resting in my palm. 

“Mmm, I’ve been stuck in the studio. I’ve been working on new stuff.” 

“Ooh, a new album perhaps?” 

“Yeah, it’s been a whole process trying to get all my thoughts out and sorted.” He clears his throat. 

“So why not go to Jamaica like you did for your first? A new environment that you can just throw yourself into it.” I question. 

“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like that for me. I did that because it was the first time I was doing music without One Direction. This time it’s a little more on me and how I feel.” 

We catch up for nearly an hour before we both feel gross from our previous activity and decide to take a shower. Together obviously. 

“Mum and Gem are coming over for brunch tomorrow.” He states. 

“Hmm?” I turn away from the shower head to face him again. 

“I think they’re going to be here close to 10:00.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He places a hand on my hip, trapping me between him and the cool tile on the walls. “Never.” 

“So what do you want?” I ask, tilting my head up to fully look at him. To read every expression that crosses his face as the water pours over both of us. 

“I want you to stay. Have brunch with us.” 

“Are you sure?” I ask, pressing a kiss to his peck. 

“Yeah, if you can.”

“My fitting isn’t until 2:00 so that should give me plenty of time.” I smile, “Are you sure they aren’t going to think it’s weird that I’m there?” 

“They won’t think it’s weird. They’ll both be thrilled to see you. I swear everytime I pick up the phone they’re asking me how you’re doing.” 

“That’s funny considering how often that Gemma texts me.” I smile. 

“So you’ll stay for brunch?” 

“Mhm.” I pull him down to my height for a kiss. 

-     -     - 

“Well if it isn’t the one that got away.” Anne teases as she pulls me in for a tight hug. 

“Fuck-” Harry sighs, letting out air as if he took an actual physical hit. 

“Hi, Anne.” I laugh. 

“You just get more and more beautiful every-time I see you.” She holds my face in her hands and she studies me closely. Over the years Anne and I have only grown to be more close, even though I am no longer dating her son she still treats me as family which I can’t help but love her for. 

“Let me give her a hug!” Gemma pushes her way in and pulls me in tight against her chest. 

“Gem!” I grin. 

Harry and Anne walk into the kitchen together with Gemma and I following, arm in arm. I remember this from years ago. The Styles family would like to make brunches together every couple of weeks when they could. 

Obviously if Harry was touring or over in the States they couldn’t, but when they could they make the most of it. Everything is made from scratch, together. Nothing is decided until everyone gets there that morning. 

“How do we feel about waffles?” Gemma asks. 

“And eggs.” Harry adds. 

“And bacon.” Anne adds. 

Everyone turns to me waiting for my request. 

“And fresh fruit.” I smile. 

We all get to work and quickly become a well oiled machine. Them it’s not too surprising due to them doing this over the years, but I have to say I am able to jump in with ease. 

I cut up various fruits arranging them as beautifully as I can. A vibrant display of colors on the platter. 

“Excuse me, love.” He presses a kiss to my temple, a steadying hand at my waist as he reaches for a knife from the island. 

I prepare everyone’s drinks around the table as well considering my task went the quickest. Shortly, everyone joins me and we dig in. Everything tastes immaculate. 

We dive into conversation, the table never getting quiet for a second. Something I love so much about this family. There’s always something to be said.

“Well, I actually should be going it’s one o clock now, and I still need to drive to the other side of town.” I pick up my plate from the table. We’ve all been done eating for a while now, but the conversation kept us at the table. 

“Where are you off to?” Anne asks. 

“She’s got a fitting with Gucci.” Harry grins. 

“Wipe that smug little grin off your face.” I smack his shoulder lightly. 

“Gucci?” Gemma grins even wider than Harry did. 

“I am going to be the new face to the brand.” I smile, feeling pink raise up on my cheeks.

“For the whole company?” Gemma cheers. 

I simply nod as I grab a few other plates off of the table as I go. 

“Can I come with you?” Gemma asks, the two Styles siblings following my into the kitchen. 

“Why didn’t you act like this when I modeled for Gucci?” Harry asks, his jealous side coming out.

“Harry, you got a cologne, but she’s getting the whole company!” She huffs, “Do you know what cool clothes she’s going to be trying one?”

“I’m not getting the company!” I roll my eyes, putting the dishes in the wash. 

“You didn’t answer the question.” Gemma smirks. 

“Yes, Gem.” I laugh, “As long as you can be out the door in five minutes.” 

Gemma leaves the kitchen and goes back to tell Anne, leaving Harry and I alone. 

“You’re coming back here after, right?” He asks, trapping me against the counter. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll actually be in London for almost the entire campaign. You’re going to be sick of me soon.” I smirk. 

“Never.” 

-    -    -

“I am OBSESSED with that yellow jacket you had on!” Gemma sighs dreamily as we enter Harry’s flat several hours later. “It’s to die for!”

“Well, I can see if I can get it for you after the shoot.”

We make our way to the living room where Harry is settled in on the couch with a book. 

“An angel.” She turns to her brother, “Did you know this one is an angel?” 

“You give me too much credit.” I laugh. 

“Thanks for the reminder, Gem.” Harry chuckles. 

“Okay, now I will get out of your hair. I’ve already stolen all afternoon with you. Hopefully see you soon!” She pulls me in for a hug, “Love you.” I let Harry walk her to the door to say their goodbyes. 

Harry comes back after a few minutes and pulls me down in a hug on the couch. He lets out a deep sigh into my neck, pulling my head in even closer. 

“You okay, babe?” I ask, taking note of his obvious mood. 

“Mmm, I was just thinking while you were out.”

“And what were you thinking?” I pull back so I can get a good look at his face. It’s always been an easy way to see how he’s feeling. 

“I was just thinking that we’re both in such a better place than we were all those years ago. I don’t tour every year anymore, and I’m signed with good management that actually lets me make my own decisions.”

“What are you saying?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck and studying his face closely. 

“I’m saying that you only tour ever other year, at max. I do the same now. Why can’t we make this work for real again? We’re both more established now and have the right to chose when and where we do things. I know, we make time for each other when we’re in the same city, but there’s nothing saying we can’t be in the same city. I could live in Los Angeles full time. I could live with you. Or we could both go to New York. I don’t care, as long as we can be together.” 

“Harry, you’re sure about this? We haven’t truly been together in a long time. I love spending my time with you, truly, but I don’t want you to uproot your life just for me.” I clarify. He’s saying what I’ve wanted to hear for years, but I just want to make sure we’ve thought things through before I give either of us false hope. 

“It wouldn’t just be for you, it would be for us. I love you so much, I feel like I’m wasting time. It seems like a waste to know exactly who your soulmate is, and not do everything in your power to make it work.” 

“I love you, too.” I press a fast and passionate kiss to his lips, “Although, I do have one thing that I think we should change.”

“Anything.” He answers, his eyes all gooey and lovey making me break out in a grin. I couldn’t keep a straight face over how I’m feeling if it tried. 

“Let me move here.”

“What?” He asks shocked.

“You love London and being close to your family more than anything, I could never ask you to change that.” 

“But-”

“And I love being close to them too. If today proves anything, you are my family.”

“Let me make the move” I grin. 

“Happily.” Harry’s dimples are on full display. 

“Hey, isn’t that another song you wrote about me?” I tease.

“Oh, shut up.” He rolls his eyes, pushing me back against the couch. 

plz give me some feedback! i thought this was so cute 

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them. 

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?” 

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” 

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself. 

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts. 

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar. 

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep. 

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing. 

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like. 

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu. 

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

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[sarcasmandships]

honey and glass ~ spencer reid

i am in love with spencer reid but he only has eyes for jennifer jareau

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

song fic inspired by ‘honey and glass’ by peyton cardoza

word count: 4.8k

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

you know those kinds of girls who look like they're made of honey and glass like sticky sweet ash

it’s a summers night in california and i’m on the beach at sunset.

the sand is rough under my toes and a warm, gentle breeze blows a strand of my hair across my face; he lifts his hand to brush it away. tucking it behind my ear he stares down at me and the sun hits his face at a perfect angle, illuminating his hazel eyes like pools of honey. he leans in and i-

“ow!” i yelp, as morgan launches the volleyball at my head, “what was that for?”  

“come and play,” he laughs, waving me over to where he stands with emily and hotch.

i shake my head, “no, i don’t feel like it,” i mumble, massaging my left temple where the ball bounced off my skull.

morgan rolls his eyes and jogs past where i’m sitting to collect the ball, “what’s up with you then?” he teases.

i shrug, “nothing. I’m just tired,” i say feigning an unconvincing yawn, “ask one of them to play.”  

i motion with my head towards spencer and jj, they’re down by the edge of the waves and she throws her head back and laughs at something he says. her sheets of blonde hair ripple through the wind and he looks at her in pure awe and amazement as she giggles at something he said.

“nah, don’t wanna interrupt the kid when he’s trying to make a move,” morgan shrugs, “come play with us, we need an extra person.”

an extra person.

right.

because what else am i but another body to fill the space?

“i don’t want to,” i say, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from jj and spencer as i stand up, “hotch said the jet is leaving first thing tomorrow, i’m gonna head back to the hotel and get some sleep.”

morgan says something, but i don’t register it as i allow myself one last glance at spencer and jj. she is trying to convince him to paddle in the waves with her, he shakes his head but when she takes his hand in hers i can tell he’s melting inside as he follows her into the water.

and i just know that he’d follow her so far out to sea that his head was underwater as long as she kept their hands intertwined.

i turn away from morgan so he doesn’t see the tears burning in my eyes.

and you can't get the taste off your tongue burnt sugar and a little bit of rum

we’re in a dimly lit bar somewhere.

hotch left hours ago, he wanted to take advantage of one of the rare nights he would be there to read jack a bedtime story.

rossi is at a table in the corner, sitting with a woman who has not-so-subtly draped her leg over him.

derek is out of my line of sight and i’m thankful for that.

emily, garcia, and jj are dancing.

i sit at the table with spencer, he’s drunk.

more tipsy than drunk i think, but he so rarely drinks anything that the sight of him swaying along to the music was an anomaly. i can’t ignore the fact that his eyes are firmly fixed on jj as she dances, and i grip my wine glass so tightly i half expect it to shatter in my hand.

he leans across to me and my heart skips a beat as i inhale the alcohol on his breath, “i’m in love with her, y’know,” he slurs.

“i know, spencer,” i smile sadly and down the rest of my wine.

he doesn’t even notice when i grab my coat from behind him and shuffle towards the door.

and she dances in the rain with her clothes on drenched to the bone never knows when she's all gone, she's the life of the party

spencer and i are watching the big bang theory.

neither of us particularly like it, but there aren’t many channels on our hotel room tv and spencer enjoys the physics references at least. i watch his face light up as a character mentions something about quantum theory that i cant understand, and spencer launches into a rant about the universe and the stars.

i don’t have the knowledge to keep up with him or the heart to tell him to stop so i sit and listen, admiring the way his eyes sparkle and his hands gesticulate when no one interrupts him with a deprecating comment.

we sit there like that for the rest of the night, in our respective twin beds with him telling me the secrets of the universe and me wondering how on earth i will ever get over him.

and deep down I know that nobody flinches when she takes off her clothes

“anything you like?” emily asks me through the dressing room curtain.

“i’m not sure…” i mumble in response, biting down on my lip as i stare at myself in the mirror, “i-i don’t think this is my colour.”

the dress looked so beautiful on the hanger, but now that it’s on my body the fabric bunches up in all the wrong places and i can’t recall a time that i’ve looked worse.

the lights are just washing you out, i tell myself.

you’re having a bad hair day, it would look better with your hair down, i tell myself.

you just need some lipstick, i tell myself.

but when jj announces she has found the perfect dress and i stick my head out of the curtain to see her, i am slapped in the face with the realisation that it isn’t the lighting or my lack of makeup it’s just me.

because jj looks beautiful as always, her dress hugs her waist and the skirt fans out around her as emily demands she gives us a spin. she isn’t wearing makeup, her hair is in a ponytail too, the lights don’t wash her out because she is radiant and flawless, and the lights aren’t the problem.

i am.

i cry in my car as i drive home from the mall, and when i get home i tear everything out of my fridge and fling it into the trashcan. i vow to go to the store and stock up on salad and chicken.

i go to the store but i don’t buy salad.

and I wonder what it's like to be one of those girls to sit in the sun and look at the world and never think, "wow, am i enough?" ‘cause life is easy when you know that you're the main character

i’m in hotch’s office as he grills me about a stupid mistake i made in the field. i can hardly focus on his words as i shrink back in the chair, counting all the reasons that i don’t deserve to be in this job.

i’m not as smart or fast or strong as the others. i don’t have an eidetic memory or hacker skills and i can’t even maintain myself as a solid average agent because i keep fucking up.

“i’m not going to write you up,” he says, and my heart soars a little in my chest, “but i need you to understand that if you do something like that again i won’t have any choice, you were lucky no one got hurt today.”

i nod silently and blink back the tears that threaten to spill over.

“go home, get some rest,” he says and i don’t hang around for a second longer, darting out of his office i crash headfirst into a tall frame.

“wow, slow down,” he chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“spencer,” i gasp, looking up at his sympathetic smile, “what are you still doing here? we landed hours ago….”

he shrugs, “i waited for you.”

my heart skips a beat.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

he shakes his head, “you’re my best friend, i wanted to. plus i thought you might need someone after being in there with hotch.”

i swallow and offer him a slightly forced smile.

best friend.

“thanks, spence, that means a lot.”

he looks at me quizzically.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, just only jj calls me spence…anyways” he holds out his arm for me, “shall we go?”

i have to restrain myself from seizing his arm, and settle for tentatively wrapping my own around it, “thanks spencer…you’re such a good friend.”

he smiles down at me and its almost enough to melt away the icy feeling in my heart as i call him a friend. the coldness in my chest in my chest is a feeling i’ve grown accustomed to but when i’m with him everything is warm and bright again.

he feels like yellow.

and i feel like maybe i am enough.

and I'm sitting here thinking this is not fair

i feel like blue.

i’m alone in my apartment flicking through tv channels, trying to find something that isn’t a medical or crime drama. because after my day at work i can’t look at any more blood or dead bodies, even if its as fake as the pep in my voice when jj calls to ask if i’m okay.

“hotch grilled you pretty bad, huh? you sure you’re okay?”

“yeah, spence – spencer – waited for me and we went to get milkshakes after.”

“aww that’s so nice, you know i think he has a soft spot for you,” she teases.

something acidic bubbles in my throat, but i can’t tell her that i know she’s wrong because he spent half the night telling me how much he loves her. i have to gather the strength to respond without the venom in my heart poisoning my voice.

“oh, i don’t think so,” i laugh, “anyways, i should go – my movie is about to start.”

jj tells me to have a good night before she hangs up, and i switch off the tv. at this time there’s noting but romcoms and i don’t want to sit through hours of pining when its on replay every day at the office.

i watch my own reflection in the blank tv screen as sobs wrack my body.

but her smile makes it hard to be mad it's not her fault that I'm so fucking sad

jj holds me in her arms as i cry into her chest, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she coos, rubbing soft circles on my back.

i sniffle against her and i just know that my eyes are puffy and red but i can’t switch off the floods of tears that fall from them.

“do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

i shake my head against her because how could i tell her?

how could I tell her that the man i love is in love with her?

and that i want to resent her for it but i can’t because she’s such a good fucking friend that she’s sitting here with me, unknowingly wiping the tears that i can’t stop shedding because i can’t be her.

she gives me one of those heart warming smiles that could bring peace to a dying man, and in that moment i am reminded again of why he loves her. there are worse people to love, i suppose. if spencer is going to cut out his heart and give it to someone it might as well be someone like her.

but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

and i hate myself for the part of me that hates her. she’s done nothing wrong. it’s not her fault that that spencer loves her, and its not her fault that she doesn’t realise.

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

i hate alaska.

my teeth chatter as we trudge through the snow filled field, and i pull the cuffs of my coat over my glove cladded hands. i hate the cold. i hate alaska. i hate the serial killer who dragged us all out here. i hate the impending snowstorm that was keeping the jet grounded for another night.

“should we even be out here?” i groan, “i mean if it’s not safe for the plane, then surely its not safe for us.”

“we aren’t 50,000 feet up in the sky though,” morgan says and i roll my eyes at him.

“it’s cold enough to make me feel like we are,” i huff.

spencer nods sympathetically at me, “i don’t like the cold either, not much snow in vegas.”

“i think we should have two behavioural analysis units,” i begin, “one to catch serial killers in cold climates, and the other in hot ones.”

he laughs, “i’d like that, but i think it’d just be us and garcia on the hot team.”

“we’d get by.”

he’s grinning at me, his messy brown curls are squashed down under his bobble hat but a few of them still manage to peak out. he’s wearing a multicoloured striped scarf and mismatched gloves.

a snowflake lands on his eyelash and i reach out to brush it off.

“thanks.”

“anytime.”

morgan launches a snowball at us, and it hits me in the back of the head, “hey! what is it with you and throwing things?” i snap.

morgan roars with laughter.

“not funny derek!”

he resumes his snowball fight with emily and jj and i draw my arms across my chest. i watch as they prance about in the snow, falling to avoid the snowballs launched by the others and laughing when they get hit. the sun is just starting to set, and it’s rays catch jj’s hair at the perfect angle, bouncing off the golden blonde strands as she dances around morgan. her and emily have joined forces to pelt him with snowballs.

i look up at spencer to see him starting at her in awe. his nose and cheeks are flushed from the cold, and the sun reflects against his own face, illuminating his eyes. they’re beautiful. like honey and glass.

“guys! come join us!” jj calls.

i shake my head, “there’s not enough money in the world.”

she pouts at me, “spence, please,” she says sweetly and before i know it he’s by her side and scooping up snow.

i watch from the side-lines.

spencer roars with laughter when emily hits morgan square in the face with a snowball, he wraps an arm around jj as she nearly collapses from laughter, something twinges in my stomach.

but he looks so happy, and that melts my glacier heart slightly.

maybe alaska wasn’t so bad after all.

and maybe one day, i can forget the past and be one of those girls of honey and glass

“nice to meet you, agent,” agent fitz says, holding out his hand, “we’ve heard good things about you up in the new york office.”

“really?” i say, shaking his hand and i can’t fight the smile that creeps across my face.

“really. give me a call if you ever fancy a change of scenery.”

“i’ll keep that in mind, agent fitz,” i give him a nod and a smile as he walks away.

new york was cold in the winter, but it didn’t seem like the worst place in the world.

but I think that it's hard for people to see that I love all these girls, and honestly it doesn't matter what you look like or how much you weigh

i wondered once how i’d ever get over my love for spencer reid, and now as he sits and sobs on my couch i realise that i don’t want to. it hurts me to love him, and something stabs my heart every time i catch him staring at her, but he deserves someone to love him like he loves her.

“i guess i’m just starting to realise that she’ll never love me back, and i don’t know why or what’s wrong with me,” he says and looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears and his face blotchy and red.

“there’s nothing wrong with you,” i say, wrapping an arm around him and wiping his tears, “sometimes the people you love just don’t love you back, but that’s not a reflection of you or your self-worth,” i reiterate to him the mantra i say in my mirror every morning.

he whimpers and my heart breaks for him.

“it doesn’t feel that way, it feels like i’m dying inside every time she talks about him or tells me about their dates, and i try to be a good friend but-”

his voice cracks and another sob escapes his chest and i tighten my grip around him; heartbreak doesn’t seem to get easier with age, because here we are, two fbi agents in our late twenties crying over our crushes like we are in junior high.

because before i know it the tears are flowing down my face faster than his and when he breaks away from our embrace to ask me why i’m crying, i can’t tell him it’s because i am feeling everything he is.

“i just don’t like seeing you like this,” is all i can muster up.

it's just that these girls know they're okay there's a beauty in knowing your place in the world in loving yourself and knowing your worth

“hey!” spencer greets me as he steps into the elevator with me.

“hi,” i mumble back, taking another sip of coffee from my travel cup.

we’ve been called in on a case, but i’ve barely had any sleep and i’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“you look tired, are you okay?”

you look tired.

so the bags under my eyes were obvious then.

“yeah,” i say, swallowing the lump in my throat, “just a late night, y’know.”

“oh…oh! is that your way of saying your date went well?” he says with a coy grin.

“what?”

oh! something clicks in my brain and i understand what he means.

“no! not like that no…actually it didn’t go well at all, he turned out to be a total misogynistic creep,” i say with a bitter laugh.

“oh, i’m sorry….”

i shrug and take another swig of coffee, “it’s okay, you didn’t know. to be honest i’ll probably end up calling him again anyways.”

spencer stares at me, confused, “why would you do that?”

“well, i don’t exactly have guys falling over themselves for me, do i?”

spencer frowns and i can see his brain working overtime behind his eyes, “so you’re just going to settle for less than you deserve?”

“i don’t have many other options do i?”

he reaches out an arm to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry, you’ll find the right guy for you soon. it’s only a matter of time, you’re worth more than a misogynistic creep,” he squeezes my shoulder and before i know it we’ve already reached our floor and he’s gone.

you’ll meet the right guy for you soon.

what if i already have?

you don't have to be perfect or never get sad that's not what it means to be honey and glass

it’s late and i sit at my desk, sorting through piles of paperwork.

my eyes blur as i enter the gruesome details of our latest case, from fatigue or tears i can’t tell. i think emily and hotch are still hanging around the office somewhere, but the others had gone to dinner as soon as we landed, promising that they would do their paperwork tomorrow.

i knew i would have no appetite sitting across a table from spencer and jj so i had sat silently in the back of the suv as hotch drove us back to the office.

a singular tear rolls down my cheek and splatters on my page, smudging the not-quite-dry-yet ink. i let out a shaky breath and wipe my eyes, i don’t know why i’m crying really.

no one had necessarily done anything wrong. only when we were in the field and the unsub had detonated the bomb, spencer chose to push jj out of the way instead of me. i was lucky that one of the s.w.a.t agents had grabbed my arm in time and pulled me back to safety.

it had been hours and my ears were still ringing from the explosion.

maybe spencer thought he was closer to jj, that he had a better chance of saving her, we are trained to make difficult choices based on survival odds, i told myself.

only spencer hadn’t been closer to jj, and she was surrounded by three s.w.a.t agents whilst i only had one next to me. but no one had really done anything wrong, no one died, no one even broke a bone. and it pains me to admit to myself but had i been in spencer’s position and had to chose between saving him or morgan, i know that would pull spencer out of the way every single time.

i jump as emily creeps up behind me, “hey, you okay?”

i don’t even try and disguise my puffy, red eyes or tear tracks as i look up at her, “no. but i think that’s okay.”

and everyone has their highs and their lows the nights you spend crying, believe me, I know

it’s roslyn’s birthday.

i don’t think anyone else in the team knows because they keep exchanging looks whenever jj snaps at one of them and i can see the annoyance in their eyes.

when jj barks at spencer and snaps her pencil within the space of five minutes i drag her into a storage closet and wrap my arms around her.

“shhh,” i say soothingly, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

jj shakes her head, “i don’t think so, i thought this day would get easier with time but it’s just getting worse,” she sniffles.

i stroke her hair, “i know, i know its horrible and you deserve to cry as much as you want to. but you are so strong, and i know you can get through this-”

“i’m not,” jj shakes her head, “i’m not strong or brave or anything that you all think i am, i’m not like you I-”

“like me?” i question.

“you always hold yourself together, whenever there’s a case with a kid i’m falling to pieces but you keep it together. i mean i’m the one crying in a storage closet….”

i stare at her in disbelief, because jj is the strongest woman i know and i don’t understand how she can’t see that.

“i don’t have a sister who killed herself jj,” i say slowly, “you have survived 100% of the bad things that have happened to you because you’re a fighter, that makes you strong.”

she shakes her head and clings to me, “but i’ve lost pieces of myself, i’m not the same person i could’ve been if life had been kinder to me and that makes me sad. my sister is dead and that makes me sad, everyone thinks i’m this strong and perfect person and that makes me feel guilty because i can’t be that person.”

in a turn of events, she is crying into my chest, her hair is greasy, and her mascara runs and i realise that my best friend was never truly on the pedestal i placed her on. and i realise i am part of the problem, treating jj like she is the be all and all of perfection and unattainablity when i should just be treating her like a friend.

spencer loves her and that kills me but it’s not what’s important right now. i’ve spent too long inside my own head, struggling to view her as my best friend or the other woman but now i see that she is someone that needs my help.

i know what it’s like to cry myself to sleep so i don’t want jj to go through something like that alone. so i vow there and then, to push my own feelings aside and be whatever she needs me to be.

i don't want to be these girls for beauty or fame but for the confidence they have in their own damn name

“smile!” garcia says as she appears with a camera.

emily, jj, and morgan turn to face her and pose but i duck out of the frame. garcia pouts and morgan grabs onto my forearm to pull me back into shot. i wish that i had the self-confidence to let him, to fall in next to him and make a silly pose at the camera and not worry if my hair was sitting nicely or if i was breathing in enough.

“come on! i need pictures for my scrapbook and you’ve been dodging me all night!” she whines.

i stare down at my feet, “garcia i’m not photoshoot ready like these guys,” i say, trying to make my voice light and floaty but it just sounds like im choking back tears.

“come on, just one picture,” jj says kindly, waving for me to come and stand next to her.

i shake my head again and wring my hands. the last thing i need is another photograph of jj and i to compare myself to every time i’m feeling extra low and self-destructive.

i try and remember the vow i made, to be there for my friend despite my own feelings. but she isn’t sad anymore, she’s happy and smiling and drinking wine, me squeezing in between her and emily for a stupid photograph isn’t going to make or break her.

it’s just a stupid photograph.

“no thanks,” i choke, “i’m going to get another drink,” i scurry away to the kitchen before anyone can object.

i shut the door quickly behind me and press my back up against it, taking a deep breath. i can’t quite believe i was successful in escaping garcia again.

“are you avoid garcia and her camera too?”

“spencer!” i laugh shrilly, “i didn’t even see you there.”

“yeah, i’ve been hiding in here for a half hour,” he smiles sadly, “i hate having my picture taken, especially next to morgan. he makes me look even lankier if possible.”

i frown, spencer had no reason to feel insecure.

“why don’t we get garcia to take a picture of just us two?” i suggest nervously, “you won’t have any reason to feel insecure next to me….”

he looks at me quizzically, “what do you mean?”

i wring my hands again, “just that you’ll automatically look even better if i’m next to you…cos’ i’m…well y’know,” i say awkwardly motioning to my face and body.

he cocks his head to the side, “are you trying to tell me you think you’re ugly, so i’ll look better by comparison?”

i shrug.

“well, i think you look beautiful.”

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

we’re on the plane journey home.

spencer and jj sit next to each other, their arms pressed together as they share the arm rest. spencer is reading a book; his eyes scan down the pages at lightening speed and i know he’ll be finished soon.

i am on the opposite side of the plane, i sit by myself, i like the space.

i keep my eye on them throughout the flight; just as i predicted, it doesn’t take long for spencer to finish his book and he places it down on the table in front of him. jj picks it up and teases him for the long-winded title, i don’t catch what she says, something about astrophysics.

he starts to ramble, and she interrupts him with another teasing remark, he flushes when she gently nudges his chest. i turn my head to stare out of the window, biting my lip.

they aren’t even doing anything, jj is just being friendly. and i still can’t handle it. i lie my head back against the headrest as i gaze out of the window, admiring the new york skyline as it fades into the distance.

a nervous chuckle from spencer snaps me out of my trance, and i look back over to see him and jj giggling secretively as she whispers something into his ear.

 “where are you going?” emily grumbles, she’s half asleep with her legs splayed out across two chairs when i accidently bump her foot.

 “bathroom,” i say quietly with a forced smile as i shuffle past jj and spencer, my heart seizing in my chest as she teases him about how long his hair is getting, brushing her hand through the curls.

i’m already silently sobbing in the bathroom so i miss the pitiful look that emily and morgan exchange.

and I know it doesn't make sense to forget the past but I promise, one day, you'll be honey and glass

“agent fitz?” i say, clutching my phone tight in my hand.

“ahh, i’ve been wondering when i’d be hearing from you.”

i laugh quietly, “yes, well i’ve been thinking about what you said, and i think i could do with that change of scenery now.”

i wrote this in a couple hours and didnt proof read so apologies for an errors :))

part 2

[tangerinemoon]

Something Wonderful

A/N: I wrote a self indulgent fic based on a musical because I have no self control. This is also the 3rd time I've attempted to write a fic like this, and this is the first time I've actually enjoyed it! 18+ DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!

warnings: angst, smut, more angst, language, blatant references to the last five years

word count: 2860

Part of the Bakguo Birthday Bash server collab hosted by  @jodrawssmut @phasmwrites @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda @lady-bakuhoe and @ramen-rambles 

Event Masterlist Here

-----

Five Years

The door slammed shut, a loud bag echoing throughout the apartment. Pictures on the wall shaking from the force of it, one of them crashing to the ground, the glass of the frame cracking. Emotions swelled up inside of you, threatening to spill over, to crack as well. 

You had told yourself in the beginning that a relationship with a Pro Hero would be hard, especially with someone considered the number two hero. He had assured you that you’d be fine, that the two of you could do it. Somewhere down the line you’d realized he’d been wrong, that you were both lying to yourselves. A fleeting thought in your mind wondering if you chased after him, would it magically make everything back to the way it was? Maybe if you tried more. Maybe if he communicated better.

“Maybe” doesn’t change a thing. It doesn’t turn back time to allow for do-overs. It doesn’t take back the words you said and the actions he made.

“You walk out that door, Katsuki, you’re walking out on us, so don’t bother coming back.”

A sob racked through your chest, as you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes. You’d given him the invitation to leave and he took it. The truth was, it had been over long before that door slammed, before the argument that led to it. Both of you knew it, but only now you could admit it to yourself. You couldn’t paint your life with lies because you wanted it to work so badly. 

It started it out with small arguments. Frustrations bubbling over and spilling out. While Bakugo’s Pro Hero career had taken off, landing him quickly in the Number Two spot. Your career seemed to fall deeper and deeper into the cracks. It wasn’t that you were mad at Bakugo for saving lives and helping people. No, you were so unbelievably proud of him. That didn’t stop anxiety and self doubt creeping in after every failed audition as you watched the world fall more and more in love with him. There was no comparing your work to Bakugo’s. There was no comparing hero work to acting. They were two different worlds. In the beginning you were both so supportive of each other, but as time went on, Bakugo was coming home less and less. Which should be fine, he’s out saving the world. It’d be selfish to be upset over that. But hero work wasn’t just saving the city and catching villains. It was public events, parties, galas, meet and greets. Things you weren’t always invited to. Things he started picking over you. It was part of the sacrifice. He wanted to be the best, and the things apparently helped him become the best. But did that mean you had to be left behind? The last event you accompanied him to, he had been swept up by a swarm of people, leaving you alone at a table the whole night. With every time he was gone, self doubt would crawl into your mind and you couldn’t help but really wonder if you were still a part of his life. 

Tonight was no different. Another event, another party, another time to get dressed up and sit alone in the corner all night. Watching as reporters, heroes, and fans alike fawned over him. You had told him that you wanted to stay in, he told you that he had to go. 

“It’s not even your party, Katsuki!” you had said, “can’t we just stay in? Your whole pro hero career isn’t going to fall apart because you bailed one party. I don’t want to go, please. ” 

One thing led to another, and soon you were in a full blown screaming match in the main room as he continued to get ready. It seemed like all you did was fight now when you saw each other. About his job, about your job, about nothing, until finally one of you cracked. 

“Although you’ve made it clear that you’re not going, I’m still going, okay?” he clenched his fists, back turned to you as he spoke, “I’m not going to pause my career because yours is failing!” 

With that you told him to leave. After everything was said and done: Bakugo left. 

The life you’d built together was done. It felt like all you could do now was cry. Cry until you could pick yourself back up and try to put yourself back together. Sitting alone in the apartment that served as nothing but a bombshell of your five year relationship. 

You don’t know how long you were sitting there. It felt like maybe hours had gone by. Every time you thought you were done crying, a new fresher wave of tears came barrelling down your cheeks. It was starting to feel cathartic, to release every emotion that’d been stirring up inside of you. Eventually you pulled yourself up off the floor. Walking around the apartment now felt like walking in a stranger's home. You made your way to the bedroom, the room that once felt like a safe haven for the two of you, but now served as a cruel reminder by how empty it’d felt. Empty long before he walked out that door. 

You sat down at the edge of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. In a few moments you would clean out your things from the closet and dresser. Taking any and all that you could with you, before calling a friend and seeing if you could stay with them. For now you’ll let the weight of the situation sink in just a little longer.

Your relationship was over. Gone. Somewhere along the way, something wonderful died. 

First Year

You’d met at a bar. He was out celebrating his birthday with some friends, while you had been dragged out by your roommate and their friends. It seemed like neither one of you wanted to be there, and by chance you both ended up sitting next to each other at the bar top avoiding your respected friend groups. He was hard not to notice, tall with messy blonde hair and bright vermillion, his arms flexing under his tight black shirt. You hit it off surprisingly well.

“I’m Bakugo Katsuki.” 

His name came out more like a grunt than an introduction, but you smiled nonetheless. You introduced yourself, and soon you found  yourselves spending most of the night together. He told you that he was a hero, on his way to becoming the best pro hero in japan. You told him you were an actress, and though you didn’t know if you were going to be the best, you just wanted to be good.

“You’re gonna be the best damn actress. Number One.”

His bluntness wasn’t something you were used to. He wasn’t trying to smooze up to you, buy you a drink and try and get into your pants with stupid one liners. Sure he was a little gruff but that’s what kind of made him so nice to talk to. At the end of the night you still went home with him…

The bedroom door shot open, Bakugo using one hand to keep you pressed against him while the other reached out behind him to slam it shut. Your shirt was long gone left somewhere between his front door and the hallway, along with his shirt and jeans. Bakugo pushed you down onto the bed, pullining is lips from yours. He stared down at you, placing a hand softly on your cheek, a stark contrast to the rough feverish kisses you had been sharing only moments ago. You nipped playfully at his thumb then lightly bated his hand away. You pulled him towards you by his, coming face to face with the prominent bulge in is black boxer briefs. You tugged them down, his cock springing free from the confines. He was big, very. Not too long but incredibly thick, with two prominent veins running along the shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, your thighs clenching. 

Bakugo let out a quiet grunt, placing a hand at the back of your head. He didn’t push, waiting for you to move first. You took him in your hand, giving his cock a few firm strokes before leaning down and tentatively giving the head a lick. His hand tightened around the back of your head, a deep groan coming from the back of his throat. You took that as the go ahead, guiding him into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the tip, your hand continuing to stroke what wasn’t in your mouth. You took him further into your mouth, sinking in about halfway before pulling back and sinking back down again. Bakugo’s hand guided you in a steady rhythm, cursing everytime you would take him fully in. 

“Ah, fuck baby. Yeah that’s it, fuck...just like that.” jis eyes fluttered shut, his head rolling back on his shoulders. 

You pulled back, wrapping your lips around the head and giving a firm suck, then pulling off completely. You sat back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and staring up at Bakugo. He stared back down at you, chest heaving and face flushed. 

Then he was on you in an instant, lips crashing against yours as he pushed you back onto the center of his bed. His hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, squeezing your thighs, finding their way around you back to the clasp of your bra. His hands fumbled only for a moment before you felt the cups loosen around your chest. You helped him pull it off, you skirt following soon after. His hands found their way to your chest, giving your breasts a firm squeeze. You moaned against his lips as he continued to massage your boobs, as he pulled away from your mouth, continuing his assault down your neck. He nipped at your pulse point, at the same time he flicked thumb against your right nipple, causing your eyes to roll sut with a soft moan. 

“Bakugo..” you whined. 

“Katsuki.” he whispered gruffly in your ear. 

“Hm?” you pulled back slightly, catching his gaze. 

“Call me Katsuki.” he spoke quietly, almost like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. You nodded, pulling him back in for another kiss. 

You stayed like that for a moment, just kissing and holding each other, Eventually, Bakugo’s hands started moving again. The tips of his finger grazed the hem of your panties, dipping in before pulling back. You whined, hips rolling into his touch, desperate for some kind of friction. He chuckled, fingers tracing along the sides of your hips then wrapping around the elastic and tugging them down in one swift movement. The fabric pooled around your ankles and you kicked them off, your panties landing somewhere off the side of the bed. Bakugo shifted his weight onto one hand, the other drifting to the space between your legs. The pads of his fingers were rough and calloused, different from his surprisingly soft touch. He traced down your slit circling arond yor entrance then grazing backup. His middle finger brushed against your clit and you let out a high pitched moan. He smirked , tapping his finger against the swollen nub. He began to rub firm circles against your clit and his lips slowly made their way down your chest. His lips latched onto your nipple as his fingers picked up speed. Your stomach tightened, you were panting and your skin felt so hot, Your senses were overwhelmed, the only thing keeping you grounded was him. He pulled off your chest, his lips continuing their trail down your torso. He nipped at your hip bones His tongue tracing along the skin in a pattern you could only assume was his name. It was all too much, yet not enough. You threaded your fingers in his hair, bringing him back up to meet your gaze.

“I need you insead me, now.” you panted,

Bakugo chuckled, “Easy there, princess.”

He reached over to the drawer in his nightstand, fumbling around until he pulled out a foil packet. He tore it open with his teeth, tossing the wrapper on his nightstand to be dealt with later. He pinched the tip of the condom, rolling it onto his length. Once the condom was secure, he settled back between your thighs, lifting one of your legs to rest on his hip. 

“You still good?”  he asked. You smiled up at him, nodding your head. Bakugo nodded in return then slowly pushed himself inside. He went slowly, stopping once he was in to let you adjust. You wrapped your other leg around his waist, giving him the ok to move. 

He didn’t hold back, pulling out and thrusting back in hard. His pace was unrelenting, in the absolute best way. He had your back arching and toe curling. Your nails raked down his back, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons in their wake.

“God, yes Katsuki! Don’t stop!” you cried out. You didn’t care if his neighbors heard. Afterall it was technically his birthday and he deserved to know if he was doing a good job. 

“That’s it princess, say my name. Let everyone in the building now whose fuking you this good” Bakugo groaned. He shifted up onto his knees, holding your thighs even tighter around his waist. The new angle allowing him to thrust in even deeper into you, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot everytime. You threw your head back, a load gasp falling from your lips.His hand snaked up your thigh to your clit, resuming rubbing harsh circles against it. Your abdomen tightening, you were close, and he knew it.

“Fuck  baby, I can feel you squeezing my cock. You’re close aren’t you? Come on princess, come all over my cock. Be a good girl and come for me.” 

Like his words held some kind of magic, you wall clenched around him and you came. Crying his name out. With a few more harsh thrusts, Bakugo followed soon after. His head thrown back as he came with a loud groan, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Not that you cared. If he could make you come like that he could mark up your entire body if he wanted to. 

You both stayed there for a moment, the room quiet except for the sounds of panting. After a minute, Bakugo pulled out with a sharp hiss. Your legs fell limply at his sides as he got up to dispose of the condom in a trash can under the desk in the corner. You sat up, looking around for your bra and panties.

“Here” Bakugo grunted, tossing something onto the bed next to you. You looked down to see it was a grey t-shirt, his shirt. 

“Bathroom is the first door on the left,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards the door. 

You were shocked for a moment, fully ready to call a cab and do the walk of shame home. Not expecting him to ask you to spend the night. You slipped the shirt over your head, thanking him before slipping out the door. You didn’t spend long in there, cleaning up and then heading back to the bedroom. When you walked back in, Bakugo was already in bed with the bedside light on. One arm propped behind his head while he scrolled through his phone with the other. When he heard you come in, he looked up, quickly setting the phone down. 

“Hey.” you greeted, making your way over to the otherside of the bed, crawling under the covers. Bakugo didn’t say anything at first, almost as if he was trying to rack his brain for what he wanted to say next. 

“You like breakfast, right?”

You were taken aback slightly by his tone, he seemed almost nervous. Was this the same Bakugo who just fucked your brains out?

“Yeah, I like breakfast.”

Bakugo nodded at your answer, that being enough for him. Reaching over to the nightstand to turn the light off. 

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Katsuki.”

You settled into the covers, almost a little unsure of yourself. You were about to turn over, when you felt Bakugo lightly grab your arm. He pulled you towards him, wrapping an arm around you and laying your head on his chest. You smiled softly, curling into him and getting comfortable, bidding him goodnight one more time. 

True to his word, Bakugo took you out for breakfast the next day. After which he asked for your number. And when you kissed him goodbye in his car after he dropped you off at your place you couldn’t help but think that every moment spent with him was something wonderful.

[qitwrites]

⬅ Previous || 11 || Next ➡

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It’s a cold Saturday morning, and Kaminari can’t find his hoodie anywhere. He briefly looks through his room, the common room, the dishwasher (because it’s happened before and no, he would not like to comment), and the courtyard before deciding he’s probably lost it. Just as he starts to make his way back, with plans to stop by Ashido’s or Kirishima’s room for a spare jacket, the jingle of a machine stops him in his tracks.

It’s the sound of a dryer that’s completed its cycle.

Kaminari doesn’t remember the last time he did his laundry but decides its worth a look anyway. He ventures into the laundry room, and when he sees the familiar shade of yellow, slightly worn out and well-loved but vibrant yellow nonetheless, he picks it up from the basket and beams.

‘How did you get here?’ he muses and puts it on with a satisfied sigh. He doesn’t question why the hoodie is so warm, or why it smells like fresh detergent, or how it’s way too big in pretty much every single way. He just decides that it’s his and leaves for his room.

Satou, for the life of him, cannot find his yellow hoodie.

It was in the laundry basket when he’d left to go grab a glass of water, and it’s gone by the time he gets back. It’s a whole ass mystery honestly.

It’s too cold to be without a hoodie, so Satou decides to borrow one from Kouda for the time being, and figure it out later. Kouda hands him a purple one with chewed up drawstrings and a front pouch pocket that sheds lint, and Satou gives him a huge grin as thanks.

This works out fine for everyone so far, but then Kouda drops some milk on his only other hoodie an hour later, and he can’t ask for the one he gave Satou back because Satou hasn’t found his either. So, Kouda just goes to Shoji and asks if he has any jackets to spare. Shoji, ever the minimalist, has a limited collection of clothes, but there is a sleeveless jacket, dark and warm, on a hanger in his closet that he happily hands over to Kouda.

Shoji is a pretty warm-blooded person, but the day is quite cold. When Tokoyami sees him shiver once, almost imperceptibly, he goes to his closet and pulls out a sleeveless moto jacket, dark as midnight and lined with faux fur. It isn’t really Shoji’s style, but he appreciates the gesture and shrugs it on. It’s warm and smells like nothing, and they go back to watching a YouTube documentary on Tokoyami’s floor, with Dark Shadow curled up nearby.

Dark shadow has the biggest soft spot for Tsuyu, so when Tokoyami is in the common room chatting with Iida and Ojiro later in the day, Dark Shadow sneaks off towards Tsuyu and tells her Tokoyami is feeling a bit cold, and happily takes the offered green jacket. He hides it away from Tokoyami the best he can.

Tsuyu, with her frog like disposition, does not do well with the cold. In fact, it’s one of her biggest vices, so the minute her jacket is gone, she feels herself seize up. Jirou walks by a few minutes later to see Tsuyu curled up on the couch, not moving and dressed too lightly.

‘Tsuyu,’ she shouts, rushing towards the green haired girl while pulling her hoodie off. She gently nudges Tsuyu into the material of her maroon hoodie, and Tsuyu finally exhales, warmth seeping into her extremities. She gives Jirou a happy smile.

‘Thank you,’ she croaks, and Jirou pats her head before plopping down on the couch next to her.

Jirou feels the cold soon enough, even as she snuggles into Tsuyu, but she doesn’t want to go to her room and pull on another jacket. She’s having fun watching a music concert on TV while others talk in the space around them. It’s homely, and she’s scared of breaking the moment by leaving, because they don’t get moments like this very often. Moments where everything is normal, or as close to normal as they can get, and the air is calm and the dust settles in random pools of sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the hall. So she just sits and waits.

Bakugou shows up 45 minutes into the concert, a black and orange hoodie draped over his arm. He leaves it on the couch next to Jirou as he walks over to the kitchen to refill his bottle, and because Jirou lives to irritate the ever-loving shit out of Bakugou, she simply picks the hoodie up and pulls it on. The material is soft and cool and smells of fabric softener. The sleeves are more worn out than the rest of the hoodie, tiny holes and jagged corners littering the cloth sporadically. Tsuyu gives Jirou a nod of approval, and she returns it with a cocky smirk of her own.

Bakugou takes one look at the back of the couch, one look at the girls, one more look at the back of the couch before he snarls, exploding the bottle in his hands and spraying water everywhere.

‘I’ll KILL you.’

‘Try me,’ Jirou taunts drily, not moving her eyes from the screen. Tsuyu protectively curls into her, and the two slump lower into the couch.

Bakugou takes one step towards them when Kirishima, sunshine Kirishima, Bakugou tamer Kirishima, the lord and savior Kirishima steps into the room, takes one look at Bakugou’s expression, another at Jirou’s frame covered in black and orange before shrugging off his green hoodie and stuffing it over Bakugou’s head, wrestling him into it. The blonde yells and kicks the whole time but lets it happen because Kirishima’s hoodie is warm, slightly oversized, ridiculously comfortable and smells safe.

‘You’re going to train right?’ Kirishima asks with a wide grin. ‘Let me come with ya! I’ll let you beat me up as much as you’d like.’

Bakugou snarls in Jirou’s direction one more time but surprisingly relents, pulling Kirishima away by the collar of his shirt.

‘Clean that shit up,’ he shouts over his shoulder at Jirou, referring to the exploded water bottle in the middle of the room.

‘Ok mom,’ she shouts back, and sniggers at the yells of fuck you and shitty hair let me go I will end her. Messing with Bakugou is the best. She waits for the hour mark to pass on the concert before getting up to find a mop and a dustpan.

Kirishima and Bakugou train for upwards of 2 hours, oscillating between working their quirks till their bodies ache and sparring without their quirks to strengthen their bodies. Their fights look like they’re dancing, so attuned are they to each other’s movements, so familiar with each other’s fighting styles, it’s almost art. Bakugou is faster, more agile, and hits where it hurts, but Kirishima is an immovable, unbreakable wall, taking hit after hit and pushing back, standing strong, giving as good as he gets.

They’re drenched in sweat by the end of it, and Bakugou pulls on the green hoodie as the cold seeps in, giving Kirishima a feral smile.

‘Shouldn’t have let ears steal mine,’ he smirks, before sauntering over to the vending machine to get himself a hot drink. Kirishima just shrugs with a smile, and lays down on the ground, slowly stretching out his hamstrings. He’s always run a bit warm, so the cold isn’t anything unbearable, and he doesn’t mind Bakugou wearing his hoodie. The blonde doesn’t do well in the cold at all, so he’s a lot more manageable when he’s warmed up.

Kirishima twists to the side and something under one of the exercise mats catches his eye. He rolls over to it and picks it up and finds an off-white jacket roughly in his size. He feels like he’s seen it before, so he just shrugs and pulls it on. It’s a nice thick material, and fits just right, maybe erring on the side of tight around his shoulders. Bakugou comes back, cocks his eyebrow at the jacket but doesn’t say anything.

He throws a drink at Kirishima and starts walking back to the dorms. Kirishima smiles at the warm coffee in his hands and runs to catch up, launching into a story about a kitten, a tree, and a stupid idea.

‘Can we drop by the gym? I think I left my jacket there,’ Ojiro says to Tenya as they walk towards the main entrance. Tenya had expressed his desire to go out for a walk, and Ojiro, who’d been in earshot, had decided to tag along, having felt cooped up from sitting inside the dorm building all day. Iida agrees enthusiastically and they begin walking to the gym, passing Kirishima and Bakugou on the way.

It isn’t until Kirishima is out of earshot that Ojiro realizes the guy is wearing his jacket, and when he watches the red head walk into the dorm, he decides he doesn’t really mind. He didn’t want the jacket back cause he’s feeling cold per se, he just wanted to make sure he got it back. He can pick it up from Kirishima later he decides.

‘On second thought, I think I’ll look for it later,’ Ojiro murmurs, and Iida shoots him a confused look. They start moving away from the gym, heading down a well-worn path often traversed by the students and talk about upcoming hero movies and its easy and fun and the sun is bright not harsh. It’s a perfect day for a walk.

Iida and Ojiro get surprisingly into their conversation that they don’t even notice someone is yelling at them and when the earth just sort of vanishes beneath Ojiro’s feet, he yelps out loud.

He looks over to see Iida’s eyes widened in surprise and then there’s black tendrils wrapping around their hips as they’re yanked back. Looking down, Ojiro’s stomach whoops at the wide chasm, as if at the edge of a cliff. He might’ve been super invested in his conversation with Iida, but there’s no way they missed the edge of a cliff, right? Also, was there always a cliff here? What the hell?

‘Guys.’ They look up to see Midoriya standing there, pulling them up with his black whip. He’s like a guardian angel, but he’s still not great with it so when he yanks them up, they land pretty hard on their sides, and Ojiro lands in a mysterious puddle of water, effectively soaked to the bone.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Midoriya gushes, rushing towards them. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean to put you guys down so hard, are you alright?’

Iida gets up, fortunate enough to not have landed in a puddle of water and straightens his glasses. ‘What is going on? Where did this cliff come from?’

Midoriya shrugs. ‘The land seems to be giving out weirdly. I was out here doing some strength training and the land just crumbled away. It reappears after some time. Also, it’s not a cliff.’ He points at the spot he just pulled them from. ‘Seems like a quirk, some kind of illusion one. The land had given away and the fall is steep, but it’s not a cliff. Just looks like one.’

Ojiro’s head spins with the random assortment of info, but he has more pressing problems to deal with. His soaked shirt is making him shiver, and it feels icky against his skin.

‘Oh, you must be cold,’ Midoriya notices immediately, and before Ojiro can say he’s fine, Midoriya shrugs off his All might hoodie and holds it out for Ojiro. ‘You can pull your shirt off and use this for now! It’ll suck if you get sick.’

Ojiro almost says he’s ok, but he’s getting colder and colder and the hoodie looks so warm and inviting so he decides screw it and peels his shirt off, shuddering when the cold air nips at his skin. He quickly tries to brush off any stray droplets before tugging on the hoodie, and sighs at the warmth he’s enveloped in. Midoriya is like a furnace apparently, and it’s wonderful. He gives the green-haired man a warm smile.

‘Thanks man.’

‘No problem!’ Midoriya says. ‘I think I’ll go back to the dorms and give everyone a heads up about this, maybe tell Aizawa-sensei as well. Will you guys be ok?’

‘We will be fine,’ Iida says, hands rigidly gesticulating in the space between them. ‘Ojiro and I will survey the land around and see if there’s anything we’re missing. We will be careful, so do not worry about us Midoriya.’

Midoriya flashes them an easy smile and with a wave, he makes his way back to the dorm.

Midoriya loves that hoodie, an old All Might piece that’s a tad big for him but warm, warmer than most of his clothes. He’ll ask Ojiro for it later he decides, slowly trekking back to the dorms. The whole floor giving away and light playing tricks business seemed more silly than villainous, but anyway, it made sense to bring a teacher into the loop to deal with it accordingly.

As he walks back to the dorms, the sweat on his body cools and chills him to the bone, and Midoriya misses his All Might sweater with a vengeance. Rubbing his hands along his arms, Midoriya picks up the pace and sighs in relief when the dorms come into view. He’s maybe 150 meters away when a familiar voice calls out to him.

‘Midoriya.’

Todoroki looks comfy and fashionable in a beige coat, a white shirt, and trousers paired with semi-formal shoes. Midoriya puts it together and realizes he’s coming back from one of his hospital visits, and gives him a warm, familial smile.

‘Welcome back, Todoroki. What’s up?’

Todoroki nods at him, smile small and hesitant, but there. It’s so much progress from where they started, like he’s thawing and cracking the ice around his soul.

‘Just got back. What are you up to? And why aren’t you wearing a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside, isn’t it?’

For Todoroki, the jacket is more for show than a necessity, considering his temperature quirk. He’d once told Midoriya that by using clothing to regulate his body temp it allows him to conserve energy, but overall it wasn’t too much of an effort for him to regulate himself on the daily. It’s all so fascinating, and Midoriya has like 4 pages worth of notes on this alone.

‘It’s a long story,’ Midoriya laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He gestures for the dorm entrance. ‘Should we head in?’

Todoroki nods again, and Midoriya starts walking, trying to find things to talk about. He knows Todoroki’s hospital visits leave him feeling a little lost, a little sad, a little drained. He’s deciding between a new hero analysis he did about Sniper and a puppy rescue video he watched on Instagram when a coat is placed over his shoulder, extra warm on the left. He startles at that, turning to look at Todoroki with wide eyes.

Todoroki acts like he’s done nothing and starts the conversation instead. ‘On the way here, in the train, I saw someone wearing a tomato costume. I am confused, to say the least.’

And they don’t speak of the jacket. Midoriya slips his hands through the sleeves, pulling it around himself tightly and laughs at the imagery in his head. Todoroki’s soul thaws a little bit more and they walk to the dorm, contemplating why anyone would be in costume outside of Halloween.

They part ways when Midoriya says he wants to talk to Aizawa, and Todoroki heads to his room in a lighter mood. It seems to be a pretty common occurrence once he talks to Midoriya. Though, if he’s being honest, that seems to be the case with most people that speak to Midoriya, with the exception of Bakugou.

Todoroki settles into his room for the evening, content with just reading his manga and maybe getting some homework done when he hears a knock on his door. Bookmarking his spot in the manga, Todoroki walks to the door and opens it to find a grinning Sero.

‘Hey man, got a minute?’

Todoroki nods, and gestures for Sero to come inside.

His friendship with Sero is strange. It’s strange because it’s effortless. Sero doesn’t push him to talk or open up, he doesn’t question him, doesn’t stare at him because of his dad, doesn’t ask about his scar or his family, doesn’t really say much at all. They share comfortable silences, and Sero shows him new music, new clothes, and new stories. Todoroki, in turn, shares his mangas, advice about training, and his love for Soba.

Sero walks into his room and sits at the low table, placing a cloth bag on it. When Todoroki sits in front of him, he pushes the bag towards him.

‘For you!’

Todoroki’s eyes shoot up in surprise and he carefully opens the bag. Inside he finds a jacket, made from a cloth that is brick red, the material cotton soft and breathable. It’s cut like a short kimono, and the patterns are simple and subtle. It looks very much like the clothing Sero normally wears, kinda bohemian.

‘Mom sent me a care package, and I think I talked about you a lot on the phone, so she included this for you as well! Apparently she found it at a nice boutique or something.’

Todoroki isn’t used to friends, much less gifts from said friends. Something inside his chest shifts, and he hugs the jacket to his chest.

‘Thank you.’ His voice shakes just the slightest bit.

Sero’s laugh is warm. ‘Try it on man! I need to take a picture and send it to my mom or she’ll think I kept it for myself.’

Todoroki pulls the jacket on slowly, and Sero whistles low.

‘Damn, looks so good! The shoulders fit nicely too. Do you like it?’

Todoroki nods. ‘It’s very comfortable. Please tell your mother I said thank you.’

‘Fo sure, fo sure. Can I get a picture?’

Todoroki is awkward as all hell when it comes to pictures, but he agrees, and Sero takes one mercifully quickly. When they both stand up, Sero walks over to him, throws an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close for another picture. Todoroki throws up a peace sign, something he’s seen the others do just to have something to do with his hands.

‘This one’s real nice!’ Sero says, admiring the photo.

‘Send it to me later.’

Sero reaches out for a fistbump that Todoroki returns. ‘Sounds good yo. I’m gonna get going, I’ll catch you later yeah?’

Todoroki nods and with that, Sero leaves his room. Todoroki belatedly realizes that the jacket smells like Sero- like sandalwood and fresh tea. Perhaps his family smells like that. The thought twists that little something in his chest even more.

Tonight is act-like-bakugou-will-only-cook-for-himself-and-eat-the-“leftovers”-that-can-somehow-feed-the-entire-class night and Sero loves to stand by the kitchen isle and contribute with his stellar sense of humor. Watching Bakugou create mini-explosions and scream bloody murder is just a bonus.

When he gets there, the blonde is already working on dinner, clad in a green hoodie that looks a lot like the one Kirishima wears. Sero takes a seat by the kitchen island and pulls his phone out to scroll through some memes when he suddenly finds himself assaulted by a face-full of glitter.

Gasping, Sero leans back in his chair and falls on his ass, the glitter coming with him. He hears shouting and laughing and someone saying You have, and please excuse my French, pretty shitty taste Monsieur and Sero is so confused.

When he pulls the lump of glitter away, he realizes it’s a jacket, a sequined jacket that’s a bright, bright gold. It’s soft in his hands, and the inner lining feels like actual silk.

‘What-‘

‘It’s Aoyama’s,’ Kirishima says, pulling Sero to his feet. ‘I got here right when Bakugou yelled you fucking walking disco ball little shit and Aoyama decided throwing the jacket was the way to go. Clearly,’ Kirishima gestures at him, ‘he missed.’

Sero laughs and holds up the jacket. He turns it in his hand and takes a closer look at the fit and the material. Considering it’s Aoyama, he shouldn’t be surprised, but the jacket is actually the perfect balance between tacky and really, really nice. Sero looks over at the two blondes yelling at each other, Bakugou brandishing a spatula while Aoyama threatens him with his navel laser and Sero just shrugs and pulls the jacket on.

It fits like a dream, comfortable on his bones, the length perfect even on his tall frame. He adjusts the sleeves and is surprised by how deep the pockets on the inside are. When he looks up again, everyone is staring at him.

Sero clears his throat self-consciously. ‘What?’

‘It looks good on you Monsieur,’ Aoyama says with an actual sparkle in his eye.

‘Damn Hanta, looking like a whole-ass meal,’ Kirishima cheers, and even Bakugou has a quirked brow. He gives him a small nod and then snorts, ‘Still looks like a shiny voltorb.’

‘I’ll take the compliment,’ Sero grins, shaking his torso this way and that. The light catches in these fun and trippy ways, and Kirishima playfully shields his eyes. Aoyama bounds over to him and winks. ‘That’s not all.’

He runs his hands up Sero’s arms, and the gold glitter turns to silver, and Kirishima squeals.

‘That’s so cool!’

Sero runs his own hand up the sides and he feels like a child again, and it’s amazing.

He looks at Kirishima. ‘Want to try drawing a penis on the back?’

Kirishima howls, Bakugou throws a spatula at Sero, and Aoyama looks rightfully horrified. He lets Sero take the jacket anyway.

Iida is not happy when he finds Aoyama in a sleeveless jersey when its cold enough to see your breath, so he lectures him for a good 4 minutes before handing over his track suit jacket. Aoyama wears it with a grumble of All my twinkling has died a painful death.

Uraraka drapes her shrug over a napping Iida sprawled across the couch after a long day, belly full of Bakugou’s amazing food. She pulls his glasses off and keeps it on the table, tucks the sleeves against Iida’s body and hopes the make-shift blanket works.

Mina thinks Uraraka’s outfit is missing something and throws a denim jacket on her from her own closet, a cute cropped piece with some artfully placed rips. Uraraka beams at it, digging her hands deep into the front pockets and posing for a picture.

Momo watches this happen and shyly offers her own chunky sweater to Mina, asking her to make an outfit around it. Mina smashes the challenge, and the end result is so good that Momo insists she keep the jacket, claiming she can honestly just make her own, even though they both know she won’t, because, you know, Momo is the most conscientious person ever that actually cares about the economy.

When the night winds down and everyone finds themselves sprawled over the couches and each other, Hagakure follows Uraraka’s example and pulls her bomber jacket off before draping it over Momo and herself, a make-shift blanket. Momo huffs out an amused laugh and pulls the invisible girl closer. The night is cold, but the common space is just warm embers and crackling fires and the smell of smores.

And finally, just before bed, Shinsou decides to tackle the mountain of clothes on his chair. He hangs the jackets, folds the pants and shirts, and rolls up the socks. At the very bottom of the pile is a well-loved, slightly faded but still ridiculously bright yellow hoodie that belongs to the one and only. Shinsou huffs in amusement, and proceeds to pull it on before climbing into bed.

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It doesn’t really end though.

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so  much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here

Two 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe 

CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing. 

Word count: 5.2k 

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE

The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up. 

Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was. 

“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice. 

“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.” 

“You don’t think...they got targeted too?” 

Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch. 

“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.” 

From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside. 

“Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.” 

Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best. 

“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver. 

Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride. 

The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.” 

“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...” 

Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more. 

Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music. 

“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?” 

The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.” 

“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously. 

Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.” 

“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution. 

“We’ve had a few meetings.” 

“Hm.” 

You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear. 

“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back. 

“Yes. You can call me J.” 

And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well. 

Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road. 

If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too. 

You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on. 

“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned. 

“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.” 

“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.” 

Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people. 

“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?” 

“Yeah. It’s fine.” 

He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away. 

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“How do you mean?” 

Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better. 

Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...” 

“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--” 

“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?” 

“Obviously they don’t care.” 

“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.” 

Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”  

“Fox?” 

He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.” 

Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up. 

“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...” 

“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince. 

Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...” 

You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.” 

“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?” 

“Very observant, your Highness. F?” 

The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.” 

Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed. 

“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.” 

“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked. 

“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?” 

“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.” 

“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal. 

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.” 

“Locale?” Chan cocked his head. 

“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.” 

“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?” 

Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.” 

The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you. 

“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.” 

His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said. 

“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock. 

“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?” 

“Can do,” He said, then disappeared. 

Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed. 

“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.” 

Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks. 

The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them. 

Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.” 

Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.” 

It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say. 

Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?” 

Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale. 

“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.” 

“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??” 

“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.” 

“What?!” 

“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.” 

“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!” 

The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper. 

“It was for your saf--” 

“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--” 

“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence. 

The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood. 

“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck. 

“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work. 

The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal. 

“What is it Bee?” 

“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things. 

He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments. 

“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.” 

Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful. 

“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged. 

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.” 

You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed. 

“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.” 

Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?” 

You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.” 

The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved. 

“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...” 

His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person. 

“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?” 

“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.” 

Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.” 

You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier. 

“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.” 

The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.” 

“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.” 

The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice. 

“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--” 

“--That you were in love with me?” 

“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--” 

“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought. 

Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.” 

“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.” 

He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone. 

He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.” 

“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.” 

He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.” 

“I-I don’t.” 

The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses. 

“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched. 

Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.” 

A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt. 

The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours. 

“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?” 

“Ch--” 

He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat. 

Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut. 

You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face. 

“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause. 

Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Goodnight your Highness.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them. 

“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.” 

Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side. 

Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people. 

“Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel. 

“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action. 

“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging. 

“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.” 

“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.” 

“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...” 

“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.” 

Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?” 

Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--” 

“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.” 

Both of the men chimed, “You do?” 

“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.” 

“You think?” 

“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.” 

“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother. 

“You’ve got to pay to play you know.” 

“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.” 

“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.” 

Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it. 

“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.” 

“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?” 

“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.” 

“Your Highness, we’ve received word--” 

Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.” 

A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled. 

“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?” 

The buzzing grew nearer. 

Two looked puzzled, “No, why?” 

The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact. 

Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--” 

“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked. 

Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture. 

You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying. 

“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes. 

The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms. 

“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.” 

“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you. 

“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face. 

“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you. 

“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”  

The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red. 

“The car?” 

“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.” 

“We’ll need it.” 

You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team. 

“Fuck.” Was all the could manage. 

In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood. 

“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.” 

Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face. 

“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.” 

A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming. 

“Admit it. You love me too Bee.” 

~🌹~ 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

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