#the worst part is that with each day i feel better in one respect

[liu-anhuaming]

so not to be gross or anything, but my mucus is starting to turn yellowish and like, apparently this means your immune system is fighting off whatever illness you have, which is awesome, glad my immune system is trying to help me out

but that raises the question: if i'm on the 5th day of this cold and my snot is only just turning yellow, what the fuck was my immune system doing the first 4 days????

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Five) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 7.0k / navigation / inbox

A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I know it took me longer to finish this one than it did the others but it's the longest chapter so far, and I also had a lot of major life events go down in the time between this chapter and last. I appreciate each and every single one of you who stayed patient with me, and I hope that this chapter and that the rest to come are worth the wait :) <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You’re doing a terrible job at paying attention to where you’re going as you take the elevator, jamming your finger against the 12 button so hard it hurts. Pizza is on the twelfth floor, and you’re hoping Daniel will be there early like you so that you can forget about Jake and his tyrannical rule. 

It’s clear as day to you; Jake thinks he has control over you just the same way he has control over the girls that drool over him at the Hard Deck. He thinks one glance will melt your brain into mush, but it won’t. It doesn’t, and you’re not letting the cockiest man you know believe he’s won you over. Especially one that you work with. If anyone found out- if any of your fellow aviators knew that you’d succumbed to Jake’s charms… you’d risk losing the respect you’ve fought hard to earn on the tarmac. You’re not letting your career take a nosedive because Jake won’t stop bragging about getting his dick wet. He doesn’t get a say in your life if he has nothing genuine to contribute to it. You know him well enough to know that caving in and fucking would be the worst decision of your life, and you refuse to let him feel like he’s won you like a prize. You’re standing up for yourself; if he can shit-talk Daniel, you can shit-talk Miss Melons.

Your skin prickles with annoyance the more you think about the woman that had approached you both- seriously, did she not consider that she was being intrusive and rude? You assume Jake has snagged her away from her roommate by now, and they’re probably having a better time than you are. 

Everything feels unfair, down to the coincidental roommate placement. It’s like the universe had heard you needed a break, and wanted to punish you for it.

Cracking open your book helps, but it takes you a while to get into the groove. You’re sitting poolside across from the pizza place, eyes glancing from page to parlor every once in a while to check for a certain bearded man. The main lead is compelling, and your stomach soars as you imagine Daniel in a cowboy hat. You’d save that horse.

Peace is hard to find while sitting poolside on a cruise, but chaos is actually the perfect white noise for you to read, and your concentration isn’t broken until a shadow falls over your lounge chair. You glance up, but it’s not the man you’d wanted to see.

“Hey.” Jake’s already frowning, his face apprehensive like he thinks you’ll scream at him to get away. You want to, but you don’t want to cause a scene.

“What, Hangman?”

“I’m not trying to control you.” He pushes despite seeing your gaze back on your book, “I just don’t think you’re meant to be with Daniel. But I shouldn’t have given you a hassle for doing the same thing to me. I just… I do it because-”

He stops short, glancing sideways at a man running despite the clear no running sign on the lifeguard tower. You decide to help him in his moment of need.

“Because you’re used to women who let you walk all over them. Even if you’re not trying to control me, you’re used to having that control. It’s familiar for you, so you expect it, even if you don’t know you’re doing it. But I’m not like that. You can’t keep me waiting on you.”

The scoff he lets out is accompanied by an expression that looks truly pained, “That ain’t it at all. But forget it. Don’t worry about why I do it. I just thought maybe you were doin’ it to me for the same reasons. But never mind. I’ll shut up about Daniel. Truce?”

You glare up at him, book still open in your lap. He extends an uncharacteristically helping hand, and you wait a truly uncomfortable amount of time before taking it and shaking once.

“Truce.”

He takes the chair beside you, stretched out in the sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your reading time is over as his head turns to you, “So, Dudley showed up yet?”

“He’s coming for lunch.” You cling to your novel, trying desperately to ignore Jake and his instantly broken promise, “What about Melon girl, they weren’t ripe enough for you?”

“She wasn’t my type.” He starts, and there’s a heavy silence before he continues, “I don’t like a woman who thinks it’s fun to get between a couple.”

The sideways glance you send Hangman, the ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk, is lethal.

“Anyways.” He continues, tone more casual now, “Fancy a swim, darlin’?”

“I’ll read instead,” You offer, “But you have fun, Hangman.”

“Party Pooper,” He accuses, standing from the lounge chair he’s occupying and stretching briefly, “You’re an absolute mood-killer. No fun, the most boring person on this boat.”

“I’m about to be more of one: have you put sunscreen on?”

“Nope,” He grins, “You volunteering to do the honors, you sleazy thing?”

“Absolutely not. But you can use the stuff in my bag.” You nod at your tote bag, “Don’t use it all, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake nods, folding into a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside yours, “So, what’s going on in that book, they boning yet?”

“Mhm.” You nod absently as Jake begins smearing sunscreen over his arms and legs, “Real sexy stuff.”

“I’ve got somethin’ sexier for you.”

“It’s a porn book, Hangman,” You clarify, in case he’s forgotten, “I’m trying to read porn. Leave me alone.”

“There’s porn right here!” He calls, arms out to show off his impressively tanned and toned chest, a thick layer of sunscreen giving it a sheen that glistens in the light. As reluctant as you are to admire anything about Jake, you can’t lie; he has a body worth ogling. But you will not ogle it.

“This porn’s better,” You hum, glancing up at Jake through your lashes, deceptively inviting, “This guy’s got a cowboy hat on.”

“I’ve got a million and one cowboy hats,” Jake insists, slowly inching towards you and away from the edge of the pool, “Is that really all it takes, darlin’? ‘Cause I can slap one on in seconds, if that’s what you’re after. ‘Even brought one with me in case my roommate was into it.”

“Mm, maybe,” You let him get closer, excitement clearly swirling in his eyes as he advances towards your chair. He doesn’t notice the shifting of your feet until it’s too late and one is shoving firmly against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling backwards into the pool.

There’s not anyone in his immediate vicinity besides you, so you take the brunt of the splash, but it’s worth it.

“But I like it better when the hat’s on a real gentleman!” You call, laughter interrupting your words as Jake emerges from the pool well and truly soaked, shaking water out of his hair. He’s been thoroughly underwater trained, so he’d been able to catch his breath in time despite the surprise of it all, and there’s no real harm done besides the initial splash.

“You dirty rotten minx,” He calls, water dripping from his short hair into his eyes, “You lured me in with the promise of cowboy hat sex just to push me in the pool?”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” You’re still laughing, but maybe this bout of giggles is only to annoy him, “That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book. Well, maybe besides the cowboy hat sex thing. But you shouldn’t have gotten so close!”

He braces his elbows on the wall of the pool, the border surely burning his skin. But he stares at you regardless, “I thought you were finally givin’ in.”

“It’d take a lot more than a cowboy hat to make me give in, Jake.” You laugh, turning back to your book, “Like, a full personality transplant.”

Jake hears Danica’s words repeated back to him in his head, ‘Show, don’t tell’.

“Noted. I’ll look into one’uh those,” He quips, smile sarcastic and empty as he resorts to swimming alone, “Hey, when you’re done with that chapter, you should join me.”

“No.”

“Alright.”

You glance away from the book’s pages at Hangman’s unusual, immediate acceptance of your refusal. But he lifts himself out of the water- no stairs, no ladder, only his forearms against the deck, and your stomach sinks as you realize he might be playing a game of wills with you.

Instead, he sits beside you again, this time facing away from you, “Will you rub some sunscreen on my back?”

You want to say no. You would, if he were only asking to feel your hands on him. And maybe that’s part of it, but you also know that as much as he tans, he could burn, and his back is the only part of himself that he can’t reach. You’d want someone to do you the solid too, so you sigh and set your book aside.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“Mhm.” He nods, passing you the sunscreen, “I’ll rub it wherever you want, Y/N.”

You whack him upside the head with the bottle, and when he hisses in pain and pitches forwards, you squirt some of the lotion onto your palm and begin applying it to the broad, tanned, muscled expanse of his back.

You’re no masseuse, but apparently you’re rubbing all the right places, because Jake lets out grunts and groans that are borderline pornographic. If they were coming from anyone else, you might have squirmed in your seat, but each one sends your eyes rolling skywards as you cover Jake’s skin in goopy sun lotion.

“Damn, you’re good.” Jake grunts as you dig into a knot beneath his shoulder blade, “Do that again?”

“I’m putting sunscreen on you, Jake, not working out muscle tension.”

“Oh, come on, just a little more?” He pleads, turning so that he can glance at you from the side of his gaze, eyes shining in prayer.

You dig extra hard into his muscle, and you take some sort of wicked pleasure in the way that his resulting groan is more of a pained yelp than something of enjoyment. 

“There, Hangman.” You whack the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, “You’re all oiled up.”

“Aren’t you glad you were the one to get to do it?” Jake grins blindingly, and you bury your nose in your book again to avoid answering his question.

“Oh, you can stick your face in that book all you want,” Jake drawls, and you hear the displacement of the water he steps in as he lowers himself into the pool, gracefully and by choice this time, “But I know you liked having your hands all over me, darlin’.”

You want to gripe something back- something witty and cutting that will tear him down where he stands, but he’s turned away from you, already submerging himself to begin swimming laps. You admire his dedication to exercise even while on vacation- you have no plans to visit the gym in the lower decks.

Jake sees the diving board just as you do, and you keep him in your peripheral vision as he climbs out of the pool to make his way up the ladder. Your novel is begging to be read, but your eyes stick firm on one fitting word- ‘abdomen’ so that you can watch Jake from the corner of your eye as he prepares to dive.

Fortunately, you don’t need to continue the ruse of reading because Jake bellows from across the deck, “Y/N, look!”

You’re met with a grin when you look up at him, his arms raised above his head and joined flush together in diving position, “I’m gonna dive- watch me.”

“I’m watching.” You call, injecting your voice with as much disinterest as you can manage without feeling guilty, “This feels like babysitting, Hangman.”

He dives instead of quipping back, and it’s an impressive one, not that you’ll sing his praises for it. He comes up on the side of the pool closest to you, arms flinging an arc of water onto the concrete before you.

“Was it good?” He asks, panting slightly, hanging onto the wall.

“Yes,” You reply, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you condescend to him, “You did so good, honey.”

“Shut up,” He sends a wave of water splashing over your sandals, and you can’t be mad at him after all the teasing you’ve been inflicting upon him.

“I’ve been workin’ on my diving,” He goes back to swimming around, this time more casual as he keeps his head above the water to speak with you, “My nieces back home are learnin’ to swim so I’ve been in the pool a lot lately. Anytime they drag me in there I dive in and splash them.”

His arms cut through the water with strength and ease, confident strokes as you mull over his words. The image of Jake urging a toddler in floaties to cross a 3-foot gap into his arms is- endearing, not that you’ll admit it. You hum in acknowledgement, and tuck back into your book.

There’s not many people in the pool this early- most are probably still in bed with a hangover and a mess to clean up - and it’s large to boot, so there’s plenty of room. Your eyes drift left and catch sight of a jacuzzi, and suddenly your beach chair seems to pale in comparison.

Okay, you won’t join Jake in the pool, but you’ll relax for a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi. Just until Daniel gets here.

Jake doesn’t notice that you’ve stood until your chair is empty, and you have a perfect view of him floundering, scanning the entire deck until he spots you half-submerged in the hot tub.

You get to laugh at him again, and he grants you a good-natured grin instead of getting annoyed.

“I thought you’d finally found what’s-his-name,” Jake swims over to the separation wall that keeps the hot water parted from the cold, “Mind if I join you, Y/N?”

“Only if you’re- careful!” You shriek, trying desperately to protect the pages of your book from his sopping wet skin as he scales the barrier, “Hangman, if this book gets wet, you’re replacing it for me.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll take you on a shopping spree, relax. Hey, if I’m buyin’ you porn books, doesn’t that make me somethin’ like a sugar daddy?”

“You’re not getting any sugar,” You shrug, “But sure.”

“Just call me daddy, Y/N.” He grins, “That’s all the sugar I need.”

You hide behind your book so that he can’t see the way your face wrinkles into a grimace. The heat from the jacuzzi spreads inexplicably quick all of a sudden, warming your neck, your ears, your face, and Jake lets out a thick, heavy groan as he settles into the warm water.

“This is nice.” He muses, eyes closed, “Real relaxing.”

“It’s less relaxing when someone’s talking the whole time,” You peek across the side of your book, “Shut up, maybe?”

Jake snorts, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool, “Alright, alright your majesty. I’ll stay silent.”

You don’t verbally thank him, but you don’t make a scene when his leg drifts across the jet currents of the jacuzzi to brush against yours.

You cover a good chunk of your novel before a voice calls your name, and this time it’s the two people you’d been hoping to see all morning. Danica waves giddily at you and Jake, who’s picked his head up from where you thought he’d fallen asleep and is already mad-dogging Daniel. You wave back to Danica, and cast a quick glance down at your bathing suit before standing to greet Daniel. It’s just as tight and showy as you prefer it to be. 

You pay no attention to Jake where he gets out behind you, too focused on Daniel to care. But perhaps you should have, because you’re two steps from meeting Daniel in the middle when Jake’s strong arm shoves you sideways, and your book is wrenched from your grasp as you fall sideways into the pool.

It’s cold, colder even because you’d been soaking in the hot tub. You’re surprised, but you suppose you can’t even really be mad at him considering it’s just payback for what he’d done to you.

You’ve barely righted yourself in the water before there’s another splash beside you, and when you finally emerge there’s hands reaching for your waist, Daniel’s as you realize he’d jumped in to help you. 

“You-!” You splutter at Jake with bleary, chlorine-soaked eyes, attention split between Daniel who’s trying to ensure you’re alright, and Jake who’s snickering while holding your book in his thankfully dry hand.

“You asshole.” Daniel finishes for you, “She could have drowned!”

“I know how to swim,” You brace a hand on Daniel’s chest- startlingly bare, but riddled with coarse, brown hair, “It’s fine, I- I pushed him in earlier.”

“Relax, Prince Charming. It’s just a bit of payback. And look,” Jake waves your novel in front of you, “Dry as a bone.”

“Well I am- uh, not.” You stand half-submerged in the pool, Daniel still holding onto your waist, “So, I guess I will go swimming.”

“Great. You can swim with us.” Daniel smiles, warm and inviting as he keeps his hands on you.

“Yeah, us.” Jake agrees, taking Danica’s towel and spreading it over a sunny lounge chair for her.

Jake helps lower Danica gently into the pool, holding her hand while she takes the stairs, before jumping in beside you so that you’re splashed by the wave he creates.

“You are an asshole,” You laugh, breaking away from Daniel’s grip to shove at Jake’s shoulder. The grins on your faces are bright and genuine, perhaps the first time you’ve both been able to laugh with each other the entire trip. It feels nice, and you don’t fight when he shoves back at you with strong arms.

“Hey- hey!” Danica shouts, standing behind Daniel with a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you turn that pushing and shoving into a game of chicken?”

“I’m down,” Daniel seems thrilled to be opposite Jake as he lowers himself for Danica to climb atop his shoulders, “Y/N, you okay on his shoulders?”

Jake does the honors himself, dunking himself under the water and coming up between your legs. You barely have time to plant your hands on the top of his head, fingers twisting instinctively into his hair as you accidentally tug it while he stands at his full height again.

“Shit, sorry Hangman.” You let go of his hair, hoping you hadn’t yanked too hard. He’s forgiven, for now, so you won’t resort to childish things like hair-pulling.

“That’s okay, darlin’.” He grins, craning his neck back to meet your eye, “I like it when you tug on my hair.”

You have to overlook Jake’s suggestive comment as Danica’s already reaching for you, and you eagerly engage in a shoving match while the two men beneath you plant themselves into the bottom of the pool. You manage to get a leg up on Danica, and they’re both pushed backwards by the force of your shove, but Daniel surges forwards and ends up knocking you and his roommate right into each other.

You collapse against Danica, forehead-to-forehead, giggling like little girls. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, and her breath smells minty- like gum, not toothpaste. You’re more than happy to begin pushing at each other again, and though you’re confident your navy-built muscles are going to prevail, she lands a critical shove against your shoulder that throws you off-balance and sends you toppling off of Jake’s shoulders.

The water is cold, colder than you remember as you splash into it, and when you come up for air, already laughing, Jake’s facing you, having turned when you’d fallen from his shoulders. He’s grinning too, a hand already outstretched to help you up, but upon seeing you stand his eyes widen and his face drops.

“Shit.” He lunges for you, cutting through the water as his arm wraps around your back to yank you tight against his chest. You protest, grunting with exertion as you try fighting against his grip. But his muscles are impressive, and you’re trapped against his chest despite your best efforts.

“Would you cut it out? I’m trying to help you. Your top came untied.”

“What?” You splutter, water trailing down your face as you quell your instinctive struggle against his crushing hold. You realize that the reason for the extreme cold had, in fact, been because your bikini top had abandoned ship, and you barely have time to process the feeling of your bare tits slammed up against Jake’s hard, toned chest before he’s fishing the bathing suit out of the water and feeding it around your waist.

“Up,” He instructs, lifting his eyes to the expansive blue sky above you so that you can separate yourself from his chest for long enough to cover your own again. It’s- a strange gesture of courtesy that you would have expected from Daniel, sure, but not Jake. Perhaps that’s why you’re so sluggish, why it takes you longer than expected to fit your top back over your tits and grapple with the strings.

“You decent?” Jake asks, and when you grunt in confirmation he drops his eyes again. He notices you struggling with the ties and reaches for them himself, gently swatting your fingers away as he uses his advantage of sight. It presses his muscular shoulder up against your face, and you turn so that your cheek rests against it instead of your nose. Suddenly you’re held against his chest like a slow dance, and something terribly and inexplicably squirmy happens in your stomach.

“Done. I double knotted it.” He hums, and it’s such a sincere tone, one that’s completely vacant of all his usual dickishness, that you lose yourself staring at his face when he pulls away. You begin examining it for any sign that perhaps he was murdered and replaced with a poorly-trained doppelganger.

His hair looks right, albeit sopping wet. His eyebrows are growing slightly bushier than usual, but nothing you’d consider a complete and total imposter. His nose is still the same: strong, slightly downturned (though not as far as Rooster’s), and there’s a tiny patch of sunscreen that hasn’t been rubbed in near his right eye. His mouth is set in a determined purse as he double knots the strings of your bikini top together, and his eyes- his eyes are different.

Miles different than you’ve ever seen them. The outside edge of his hazel-green rings is softened, like someone has blurred their usual sharp border and lined it with suede. His pupils are huge, and they’d be eclipsing his irises if those weren’t so big and puppy-like. He is, in every sense of the word, gentle, inside and out. 

Jake has never been gentle before. 

“You alright?” He asks, and you snap back to reality with his large hands spread over the expanse of your bare back, the eyes that you’d been examining firmly and concernedly fixed upon you. Only a few meager strings separate his skin from yours, and you nod once, steadily as you gently push his arms off of you.

“Let’s go again,” You call to Danica and Daniel, your voice a piss-poor attempt at strength and nonchalance as it lacks its usual life, “Good hit, Danica. But watch out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Bring it,” She grins gleefully, and her giddy gaze drifts downwards to Jake’s face when he lifts you onto his shoulders yet again. From the looks of it they share some sort of silent conversation- some inside joke that you’re not privy to. 

Something about that, something about her excluding you from a conversation with your own teammate makes you shove her, not enough to knock her off of Daniel’s shoulders, but enough to show her that you’re not going easy on her. She shrieks giddily as she writhes to stay balanced on Daniel’s shoulders, a smidge less broad than Jake’s. You’re thankful for that, for the steady mount you’ve got, as you resume pushing and shoving at Danica.

Jake is going insane. Not only does the phantom sensation of your bare tits- nipples hard from the chilly pool water - stick to him like a wet t-shirt, he can feel you against the back of his neck, your warm sex nestled snugly against him with only the bottom half of your bikini to separate you. Your thighs bracket his head, close enough for him to reach out and bite at, but he has to focus on keeping his stance sturdy so that you can play properly. Daniel’s glaring viciously at him across the few feet that separates the four of you, and he’s not going to let Mr. Mailman win. 

This time, Jake suspects you’ve used that military muscle of yours, because Danica slips backwards off of Daniel’s dewy shoulders and splashes into the pool. Your hand cups beneath Jake’s chin, tilting his head upwards and leaning it back into your lap.

“Nice one,” He grins upside-down at you, and you bump your fist against his when he offers it. Then you’re craning your neck down, surely uncomfortable as you leave mere inches between your lips and his, and his ears are ringing.

“Back up,” You murmur, disguising it as a congratulatory speech while Daniel helps Danica back onto his shoulders, “Get them to chase us and we’ll use the momentum against them.”

“Darlin’,” Jake proclaims, pride puffing up his chest that your legs are resting against, “You’re my kinda woman. Always looking to win.”

“Just do it, Hangman,” You scoff, but your eye-roll is less than irritated, fond if anything due to your partnership as Jake drops his head to face Daniel and Danica once more.

Jake stands in place where he’d been before, but when Danica engages with you he begins backing up. Slowly, carefully, ensuring that his feet are planted steadily each step so that you’re not tipped over, he makes his way towards the drop off towards the deeper end of the water. Daniel follows, taking the bait, and soon enough his predicament becomes obvious: he’s not as tall as Jake.

He stands somewhere close to six feet, surely, but not past it like Jake does. Your partner’s head is still comfortably above water, smirk in full force as Daniel’s beard becomes waterlogged. 

“That’s not fair!” Danica laughs, petting sympathetically at Daniel’s sopping wet hair, “Poor guy, we’ll get you stilts for the next round.”

Daniel lands a teasing pinch against the curve of her ass and she shrieks. You lunge for her, using her momentary shock to catch her off guard as you send her tumbling backwards into the water behind Daniel. 

You don’t have time to celebrate before Jake is ducking down and slipping himself out from beneath you, his strong arms bracing your fall so that you barely sink a few feet into the water. He crushes you in a celebratory hug, his laughter harmonizing with your own. He turns you both to face Daniel and Danica as they splutter to catch their breath, his cheek pressed flush against your own. 

“Chicken Champions,” He declares, holding you tight to his side at his own height, which means your feet float above his own in the water, “I’d offer to go again, but that’d just be cruel. You ladies wanna chatter in the hot tub while Danny-Boy and I show off on the diving board?”

“I brought a book,” Danica hums, face dripping with water you feel only mildly guilty for submerging her in, “If you wanna read, Y/N, I’ll do it with you.”

“Perfect.” Daniel nods, already cutting through the water on his way to the diving board, “I’ll be careful not to splash you guys.”

“I won’t.” Jake supplies helpfully, his grin turned shit-eating as he eyes you up, “No point in reading one of them smutty porn books if you’re not soaking wet.”

“Splash me and I’ll throw your room key off the side of the boat, Hangman,” You promise, “You’ll be begging strangers to take pity on you in the elevator.”

“Nah, that’s not my style,” Jake’s voice is dripping with intent while Daniel takes position on the diving board, his swim trunks dripping steady trails of water. You don’t know why until he continues, taking his own bait, “I’ll leave that to Daniel.”

You blame Jake’s comment for why Daniel’s dive nearly turns into a belly flop. It’s instantaneous, really, Daniel’s changing of posture as he register’s Jake’s biting words, and you have half a mind to admonish Jake for riling Daniel up during a dive- that could have ended badly. As it stands, Daniel does a sort of cannonball, though not intentionally, and you and Danica cringe in unison when he lands, sending water splashing well over the divider into the hot tub. Your book remains mostly unscathed- only a droplet of water lands on the cover and obscures the male lead’s face, blurring out his beard and making him appear clean-shaven. 

Jake is already scaling the ladder, and when he gets to the top he surveys Daniel emerging from the water.

“Six,” He shrugs, sneering down at Daniel from the highest point on the deck, “‘Could’ve clinched a seven if you hadn’t splashed the ladies, but your form was still shit.”

He doesn’t give Daniel a chance to fire back- or maybe the man is just too smart to take Jake’s bait - before he sets his arms together above his head, and seamlessly, impeccably cuts through the water. For someone so muscular and bulky, his form is graceful- not that you’ll ever tell him that. Water arcs outwards from where he’d landed, one half of the splash practically targeting Daniel where he stands watching.

He swims farther, nearly reaching the other end of the pool before he emerges, shaking water from his hair like a dog as he looks intently at you and Danica in the hot tub for a rating.

“Ten!” Your reading companion shouts, blessedly unaware of the tense atmosphere- or again, too intelligent to fall for Jake’s lowly antics- and you look at the water-stained cover of your novel.

You smear away the water droplet with your dry thumb, and the male main character’s beard returns.

“Four.” You call, voice deadpan as you lock your eyes on your novel, “For playing dirty and sabotaging the other contestants.”

Hangman’s grin is open-mouthed and cemented into place as he stands taller than Daniel in the water, tanned skin standing starkly out from the blue of the chlorinated water, “Dirty’s the best way to play, darlin’.”

Danica shoots you a look from behind the spread of her novel that you’ve sent many-a-girlfriend before. It’s the wide-eyed, restrained smile that screams ‘We’re talking about this later’, and you mirror her expression with your own disdain.

“Leave us alone,” You call, grinning apologetically at Daniel so that he knows he’s only a bystander, “We want to read.”

“Let’s leave the ladies to their smut, Dorian.” Jake calls, louder than he needs to be as he stretches to display his toned abdomen and muscled arms, “We can find our own fun. Wanna see who can swim the fastest? Place your bets, ladies: pilot or mailman?”

“You swam pretty slow when you crash-landed in the Pacific that one time,” You muse, fighting to keep a smirk off of your face, “I remember thinking you would die in the time it took for you to swim back to shore.”

“Wouldn’t’ve gone so slow if I wasn’t hauling my RIO back to shore. He hit his head on the way down,” Jake dips his head towards Danica, happily regaling her with the tale,  and you realize you’ve only fluffed his ego more, “So he was unconscious. Well I couldn’t just leave him there, ‘poor guy was only a trainee. So I took him along. It did slow me down, but,” He heaves a disgusting, gaudy, fake sigh, “It was worth it to send him back home to his mama.”

You taste a hint of blood where you’ve apparently chewed through your lip. You let it go and hope nothing escapes your mouth. It would be a shame to stain the pages of your novel red.

You’re trying very hard not to pay attention to Jake and Danica where he’s engaged her in a staring contest. Well, you suppose it’s not much of a contest that she can win: the point is that you’re losing. Jake’s showing off his impressive build, still running his mouth with every vaguely self-complementary anecdote he can embellish, and Danica is taking the bait, which means that your rampant attempts to cool Jake’s ego have failed. 

You let the warm, borderline-hot water sink into your skin and simmer alongside the building irritation that threatens to blow beneath the surface. You’re tired. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for you- or, if not relaxing, a good way to blow off steam. You were supposed to be bent in half up against the shower wall by now, not bending the pages of your book with the strong grip you’ve cemented onto them while you mediate Jake’s ego and the willingness of so many women to accommodate it. 

Part of you wants to let loose and have fun- not with Jake, of course. Never with Jake. But part of you wants to act rationally, forget the constant rivalry between you two and let him shack up with whoever will show him her tits first. But the other part of you, the one that cheers every time he places second in a show of skill, wants to knock him down a peg. It’s why you’re so persistently humbling him- or, trying to, at least. Something about him putting on this cocky persona- erasing all human emotion to make way for pure sleaze puts you on edge, and you pity the fool who believes it.

You can’t tell if Danica’s that fool yet, because she’s turned back to her book with a smile, but to her credit she doesn’t ogle him while he’s swimming. It would be easy to- he’s all tanned muscle and gestures that show off just the right curve or vein. He knows how to preen, but Danica seems to be minding her own business. That makes it easier for you to read your own novel; you don’t feel like you have to keep an eye out for her anymore.

You’re not sure whether it’s a love for the act or a wordless competition to outswim the other that keeps Jake and Daniel occupied with lapping the pool for so long, but as more and more people filter out of their rooms and onto the deck, there’s not much room for recreation anymore.

“Are you done?” You ask Danica, peering over at her after someone unknowingly sends a wave of water straight for you both, narrowly avoiding soaking your novels.

“I think I’m done.” She nods sheepishly, rushing to stand and keep her book dry, “Should we run away before the men notice we’re leaving?”

“Excellent plan,” You laugh, but you can practically feel Jake’s eagle eye upon you as you race for your towel, leaving soaked footprints behind on the wooden deck, “We should go get some pizza. They’re making more now that it’s a little busier out here.”

“You shouldn’t stare like that.” Daniel’s irritatingly smooth voice, pitched up slightly from Jake’s and entirely free of Jake’s rugged charm, makes Jake’s lips yearn to curl into a sneer.

Jake pivots in the cold pool water to face Daniel rather unimpressed, a scoff begging to burst from his lips, “Like what?”

“Like she’s a piece of meat, or something.” Daniel’s arms are crossed, and Jake plants his feet firmly against the concrete floor of the pool.

“Oh, you’re so virtuous,” Jake drawls, his skin burning and not from the rays of sun hitting it directly, “You frenched her in an elevator, Daniel, you’ve got no room to be talking to me about class.”

“She wanted me to kiss her. She kissed me.” Daniel insists, and Jake laughs- actually laughs, a grit of his teeth and a forceful exhalation of air, “That’s different than staring at her ass while she runs away from you like you’d flip her skirt up at a drive-in movie theater.”

“Flipping skirts,” Jake laughs, sadistic grin in full force, “Daniel, I’m not that old fashioned! Please, she’s in a bathing suit that she chose, for a sex cruise that she booked, and you know what? She probably wants you to be staring at her ass in it. And you don’t seem too concerned with the other people on the deck, I’m sure a few of them are looking too. And are you worried I’m looking at Danica’s ass?”

“You’re not looking at Danica’s ass.” Daniel nearly bites his tongue in an effort to keep his voice level, “Because you’re not interested in Danica. You’re interested in Y/N and you can’t have her. She’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours, either.” Jake spits, and there’s a moment of silence where both men’s chests heave with barely-suppressed tension. Jake realizes that he’s admitted to Daniel that he has no real claim over you, but the other man doesn’t fight back against not having one of his own. But you are his, you are Jake’s, in the way you’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, in the look in your eyes when you’d stared into his own earlier, in the stain on his pajama pants.

You’d moaned his name- his name, not Daniel’s.

Someone knocks into Daniel from behind, backing right into him and nudging him slightly off balance.

“Oh!” The woman shrieks, “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine.” He offers her a tight smile, heading for the ladder, “Don’t worry about it.”

Jake hauls himself up out of the pool with nothing but his forearms, using his towel to dry his hair if only to show off the expanse of his chest to any who may be watching. He checks- you’re not.

“So,” Danica leans forwards into your space at the pizza counter, eyes meaningfully wide, “Tell me why he’s acting like this.”

“He always acts like this.” You scoff, and when she levels you with an unimpressed glare, you insist, “No, really! He’s just- everything is a competition to him, everything. I met his mom once, and she told me that he used to have races at the dinner table to see who could finish their food first. He kept making himself sick but as long as he’d beat his brothers he didn’t care. He always has to win, and right now, he’s competing for us.”

“No, he’s competing for you.” Danica corrects you, “Is he winning?”

“Hell no. He’s- he’s not really competing for me, not meaningfully. He just wants to say he ‘got me’, you know? That would be major bragging rights on the tarmac. But that’s exactly why I can’t give in- I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her fellow pilot! Then they wouldn’t see my achievements anymore, just my mistakes.”

“I get that.” She nods, “But how do you know he’s just gonna dump you?”

“I’ve watched him dump the whole of San Diego,” You scoff, “That’s what he does. He doesn’t do love, he’s the kind of guy who’s only ever interested in something quick and dirty.”

“Everyone does love.” Danica frowns, “Some people just start later in life than others. And I think he’s starting now. With you.”

“Love,” You laugh, and sure, it’s dramatic, but if it gets through to her, you don’t care, “A man who loves me would not have tormented me for my entire career.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully, “I think he does. Even if he doesn't act the way you think he should, even if he doesn't act the way you would, I think he does love you. I think he just loves differently. I think he's new to it. What has he done to torment you?”

You huff, grateful for the opportunity to vent, “He constantly tries one-upping me- again, he can’t lose. He just- he pokes and prods and teases me like we’re on the playground or something, and it’s non-stop. It’s not like he’s sweet most of the time and then there’s a few bouts of light teasing, it’s- it’s constant, and I can’t ever let my guard down, or I’ll lose.”

“So you’re fighting to win, too.” Her eyes narrow slightly, “Why?”

“Because. I can't be second-best, and I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her coworker. I’m not doing that.” You repeat.

“Oh," She laughs, "So you're both stubborn. You don't want to lose, either. But second-best is temporary, rankings come and go. And I understand your thing about not wanting to be known for sleeping with him, but even if you did sleep with him, the whole Navy doesn’t have to know.”

“They will, Hangman will brag. He always brags.”

“He won’t- not if he’s in love with you, not if you want him to keep it private.”

“He’s not in love with me-!”

“Four slices of Pepperoni, two cheese?” A large tray is placed between you and Danica at the counter you’re both leaning against, and it snaps the two of you out of your debate.

You turn to see one of the employees looking expectantly at you, and Danica stammers, “Uh, three cheese.”

“Sorry.” He smiles placatingly at her, scooping another slice onto the plate, “Three cheese.”

“Thank you.” You take the pepperoni pizza, leaving Danica to collect the cheese. You feel bad for walking away, even if you know she’s hot on your trail, but you feel frustratingly suffocated, like everyone is urging you to make the biggest mistake of your life and never considering why you simply can’t. She doesn’t know Jake, she hasn’t spent the last decade with him as he’s blown his way through tourist after tourist, bragging all the while. And he doesn’t understand what it would be like- even if he wasn’t looking to win, even if he did just want to try casual sex for fun, you’d never be able to escape that reputation. 

You feel like you’re going crazy, and you plop down between Jake and Daniel where they sit at opposite sides of a table, ready to stuff your face with pizza instead of dealing with any of it.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[lovelytsunoda]

glad I crashed the wedding // oscar piastri

summary: she needed a wedding date. he wanted a reason to spend time with her. but of course, the inn only has one bed, and oscar makes her feel alive in a way she's never felt before.

pairing: oscar piastri x female! reader

warnings: sexual tension, one bed trope, difficult sister relationship (though they love each other very very much), eventual smut, fake dating (I’ve been reading too much Ana Huang lately)

“so let me get this straight,” she began, swirling the coconut-mango-pineapple icy drink in her hand, leaning back against the photocopier. “you, the great oscar piastri, wants to come home with me to be my date for my sisters wedding, and you don’t want anything in return?”

oscar nodded, a wide grin on his face as the copy machine continued to churn out waivers for the hot lap guests to sign. “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“but why?”

oscar shrugged, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “because I’m your friend. and this is what friends do.”

y/n sighed, sipping her drink before turning away from the driver. keeping eye contact was dangerous when it was with oscar piastri. when it was with the man who set her nerve endings on fire, who made her stomach churn like the rising tide with a gesture as small as a wave, or an offer to buy her a drink.

who had an accent that made her core throb, soaking her panties right through when she thought about how his voice would sound in her ear if he was whispering some less-than-holy things to her.

“I don’t want to subject you to the insanity. you might not want to be friends after you meet my family. we can’t even be in the same room sometimes, it’s like dropping a match onto a pile of dry leaves.”

oscar laughed and she tried to ignore the shivers the sound sent up her spine, the rising goose flesh on her arms as she counted the waivers, having to start the count over again more than a few times.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” oscar reasoned, taking the file folder from her, insisting on lightening her load. “I just want you to feel at ease.”

she rolled her eyes, grabbing her drink as she started to walk out of the motorhome. “I’ve been living in delias shadow since I was fourteen. she’s a well respected medical professional; and I went to a three year college. everything she does is perfect. hell, she’s getting married this weekend and here I am, convincing myself that letting you tag along is a good idea so I don’t look like I’m going to die alone.”

it’s not like she wasn’t successful. she was a part of the legal team for one one of the biggest racing names in the world. when Oscar’s contract dispute started, she had been the one who served otmar his papers (and to this day, saying the words “otmar szafanuer you have been served, see you in court” was still one of the finest moments of her career).

it’s just that delia always brought out the worst in her, every insecurity, every flaw she hated about herself. their childhood has been fraught with insecurity and competition.

she sighed, leaning against one of the paddocks scratchy palm trees, bark digging into the skin on her arms. oscar was still trying to plead his case, and she wondered why she was fighting it.

this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? oscar on her arm, making her feel like she was wanted, loved, even?

she took another sip of her drink before she spoke again.

“we’ll probably have to share a hotel room, and my dad might threaten you with his antique saw collection. you’ll also have to stop me from killing delia with my bare hands before the big day.”

oscar chuckled, handing back her file folder. “I think I can handle that.”

that goddamn smile. that’s where it all started, when she first started to think about his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his mouth wrapped around her nipples.

why on earth was she agreeing to this?

“you’d better be up bright and early tomorrow. it’s a long flight and my dad is meeting us at the airport. as far as everyone knows, I’m not bringing a date.”

the feeling of his hand against the small of her back burned into her skin. she could feel his body heat through the thick fabric of her papaya golf shirt as he started guiding her towards the garage where the hot laps were being conducted.

“oscar, what are you doing?”

he grinned at her, baring his pearl-white teeth, in their slightly uneven top row. “if we’re going to convince your dad that we’re together, we’d better start practicing.”

god, this man was going to be the death of her.

————

she regretted inviting oscar along the second they got off the plane.

from the moment they passed through airport security, it was as if a switch had been flicked in her brain, converting him from the serious, driven race car driver she met at the track, to a man straight out of the romance book she had been listening to on the flight. his hand was rooted to her back protectively, and he wouldn't let her carry any of her luggage on her own.

she could get used to this, she thought, watching his t-shirt ride up over his defined abs as he reached into the overhead cabin to pull down her two small suitcases.

they walked peacefully through the terminal, oscar pushing the baggage cart with one hand, his free arm looped over her shoulder.

"you know you don't have to act like my boyfriend until we see my father, right?" she said hesitantly, running a thumb over his knuckles. "my feelings won't get hurt if you don't want to pretend when nobody else is around.

oscar acted like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by a shout across the airport.

"y/n!" the voice shouted. "there's my girl!"

"dad!" she shouted, breaking away from oscar's side to launch herself into her father's arms. the constant travel that came with working in formula one took it's toll, and she didn't get to see her father as often as she liked. she'd had to move to england to work with mclaren, and her family had stayed behind.

she never said she loved that part of her job, but a little space away from her family often made her appreciate them a little more.

"dad, i want you to meet someone." she started, waving at oscar, who lumbered over with the weighed-down baggage cart. "this is my boyfriend, oscar." despite the lie, and how foreign the words were, saying them almost felt right.

my boyfriend oscar.

"i'm carl, nice to meet you." her father said, his voice a slight bit more gentle than his usual grunt.

oscar shook carl's hand, a bit of weariness on his face as he slipped his smooth, dainty hand inside carl's larger, more calloused one. "nice to meet you, sir."

carl raised an eyebrow. "australian? you'd better not be giving my daughter any of those australian kisses."

"dad, what the hell!?" she whined, hiding her face behind her hands as a blush began to coat her cheeks. if there was one thing she definitely was not getting from oscar piastri, it was australian kisses.

oscar thought she was cute when she was flustered. it was such a shame it took him an hot minute to figure out why.

australian kisses are like french kisses, just down under. it was mark who had said it to him first, in an attempt to be funny. as the meaning set in for oscar, he found himself silently cursing mark webber.

but it didn't mean he didn't get half-hard thinking about having his head between y/n's thighs.

________

"you've got to be shitting me."

she knew they would be sharing a bedroom. all of the plus ones were rooming in the chic, trendy motel with the guests who had invited them. and that would have been fine.

except that this hotel only had a queen bed, done up with plush white sheets and a small turquoise blanket draped over the bottom half.

a queen bed that she would have to share with a man that she wished would fuck her brains out.

"i can call the main office if you want." oscar suggested softly, reaching for the door handle. "i can see if they have another room, or they could bring a cot in for me?"

she sighed, raking her hair over her head as she looked around the room. "don't bother. the motel only has fifteen rooms, and it's booked solid for delia's wedding, between her bridal party and the fiancée's family, i doubt they'd even really have a cot. we can manage, right?"

oscar nodded, hands buried deep in his sweatpant pockets. damn those gray sweats.

"we can make a towel barrier, and the bed is more than big enough for both of us. hell, we could probably have a threesome on that bed and still have space."

did oscar piastri not have a single drop of shame?

she shook her head, trying to forget the thought of a half-naked oscar hovering over her, whispering things in her ear. she made a grab for her suitcase placing it on the bed and grabbing a handful of clothes and a travel bath and body works bottle.

"i'm going for a shower, can we talk about this afterwards? i'm jet lagged and i really just want to sleep."

"sure." oscar shrugged, spreading hismelf out on the bed, arms over his head so that his shirt once again showed off his stunning lower torso.

she tried to stop herself from staring at the happy trail dipping under oscar's waistband, but she failed miserably, her eyes following the small trail of hair down to the waistband of his jack and jones boxers, to the impressive lump underneath his jeans.

if his cock was that big when it was soft, how would it feel when it was hard, throbbing and inside of her. just the mere thought was making heat grow between her legs-

nope. we're not going there today.

she squeaked out some kind of muffled statement, clutching her clothes to her chest and making a mad dash towards the bathroom door. a cold shower should fix this, right?

when oscar heard the shower turn on, the music clicking on soon after, he sat up on the bed, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. he knew he should shower as well, but the fatigue of air travel was beginning to set in. a small nap wouldn't hurt, right?

he got up from the bed, socked feet sliding against the laminate floor as he reached for the wheels on the bottom of y/n's suitcase. all he needed to do was close the suitcase, move it out of the way, close his eyes, and then drift of into a peaceful slumber.

all he had to do was hope that he didn't wake up hard, or moan her name in his sleep. it should be easy, right?

wrong. the suitcase slipped out of his grip, almost sliding off the bed before he thanked god for his reflexes, stopping the suitcase from hitting the floor, save for a few articles of clothing.

he leaned down picking up the black busted tour shirt and denim shorts, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was resting on the area rug underneath.

it was a mass of bright peach lace, the color so close to the mclaren signature papaya, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked it up and unraveled the halter bralette. he bit back a moan as he stared at the lace and mesh that left very little to the imagination.

he started to think about his mild-mannered co-worker wearing it, her perky nipples pressing against the bright, skimpy fabric.

the mere thought sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock.

god, he was down so bad that it should be criminal.

he shouldn’t be thinking about whispering dirty sweet nothings against her skin, or sucking a hickey into her thigh before he plunges his tongue inside of her.

he shouldn’t be thinking about anything that would make his boner worse.

and that was when he heard the bathroom door open. and there wasn’t enough time to hide the sweat seeping from the pores on his skin, the tent in his sweatpants, or the fact that he was still holding the offending lingerie in his hands.

“it’s not what it looks like!” the driver sputters, turning around to face her, and bitting his lip to stop himself from losing whatever composure he has left.

she’s wearing booty shorts that barely cover her backside, the ass emblazoned with the acronym for the college she attended, her top half covered with a loose-fitting muscle tank sporting a skeleton on a surfboard, the sides of her bare tits just barely visible through the arm holes.

“oscar,” she breathed, voice raspy when she saw the tent pitched in his pants. “do i turn you on?”

“you have since the day I met you.” he admits, dropping the bra and slowly moving closer, hesitantly running his hands down her still-warm sides. “tell me, y/n, do you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“i could ask you the same.” she shot back, her voice wavering as she pressed her hand shakily against oscars clothed cock. “your boyfriend act didn’t feel like an act this morning.”

they shouldn’t be doing this. it was crossing so many lines. but when oscar looked her dead in the eyes and breathed out a single word, all thoughts of self control went out the window.

"yes."

she pressed her lips against his, nipples springing to attention as she pressed her front against his, his hands moving from her sides to squeeze and caress her breasts, her mouth falling open in a moan against his lips. oscar took that chance to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands migrating to her hair as he maneuvered their bodies towards the bed.

she took the lead once her back hit the mattress, practically ripping her tank top off and casting it aside, hands making a mad grab for oscar's plain white shirt while he kissed and marked up her neck.

she whimpered under his touch, and would have been embarrassed had she not been so turned on.

"oscar, please." she begged, spreading her thighs as she tried to grind her core against his thigh. "i need you. i need your cock so deep inside me that i can still feel it three days later."

oscar practically growled at the admission, pulling his lips off her right tit. "are you begging for me, pretty girl? do you want me to make you feel good? hm, want me to treat you right?"

"yes." she breathed, tucking a hand underneath his boxers. "please, oscar."

god, his name sounded so sexy rolling off her tongue. he couldn't think straight when she had her slender fingers wrapped around his cock.

"are you sure you want this? because once i have you, i won't let you go. i'll need more."

"i'm sure, oscar. and i'm not just saying that because i think your mild possessiveness is kind of hot."

oscar smiled, a small, imperceptible blush forming on his cheeks. "you think i'm hot."

"since the day i met you." she hummed, sewing her lips to his, her fingers tugging on his hair, a small moan leaving his throat.

"oh, so pretty boy likes it when i tug on his hair." she giggled. "i learn something new every day."

"keep talking like that, and you won't be able to walk in the morning."

"i look forward to it."

oscar looked around, his eyes settling on the mirror hanging opposite the bed, right next to the bathroom door. he felt his dick throb as an idea formed in his head, pulling away from the body lying prone on the bed.

"shorts off, all-fours on the bed facing that mirror." he ordered, trying to keep a gentle tone in his voice as he clambered off the bed, stripping out of his sweatpants and boxers, hard member jutting straight out as her touched himself, trying to find some kind of release from the pressure between his legs.

she shivered at the command before making a show of dropping her shorts to show off the cream coloured cotton thong she was wearing, laughing to herself when oscar's eyes rolled back in his skull, a moan escaping his throat.

"god, you're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."

she couldn't deny the excitement in her bones as she settled herself on the bed, arousal literally dripping down her thighs when she looked in the mirror and saw oscar looking at her, mounting the bed behind her before slapping his cock against her ass.

in a more tender, loving action, oscar leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine.

"you're so pretty." he whispered, the compliment sinking into her skin like tattoo ink before he sunk into her, gripping her hips and closing his eyes to try and show some restraint as she got used to his size.

it was a sinful picture in that motel room mirror as he began to rut into her, watching her tits shake in the mirror, listening to her sweet whimpers and whines and pleads for more.

"god, yes, oscar! feels so-so fucking good, oh my god."

he met her eyes in the mirror, sweat running down his chest and dripping onto her back as he kept thrusting, the same relentless pace. "you're so good for me, pretty girl. so stunning, so sexy with my cock inside you like this. god, you're prefect. perfectly mine."

he practically growled the last word, knowing damn well that he was ruined for any other woman.

-------

they woke up in a tangled heap of limbs, not knowing where one body ended and the other began, lazily exchanging kisses as the sun rose outside.

"oscar, we have to go to the rehearsal." she whined as he kissed her neck. "if we're late, i'm never going to hear the end of it."

"don't care." oscar hums, running his hands up and down her sides. "i would gladly stay in bed with you all day and order room service so we don't ever have to leave."

"osc." she warned, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet over her chest. "we're going to the rehearsal. i'm a bridesmaid, remember?"

fifteen minutes later, oscar was in the bathroom steam-cleaning the wrinkles out of his suit while she tried on the bridesmaid dress, caramel fabric falling over her skin as she stared at herself in the mirror.

the same mirror where, just twelve hours before, she had watched oscar piastri fuck her brains out.

she felt heat on her hips, and didn't even need to look up to realize that it was oscars hands, gently caressing her skin through the satin. he gently kissed her shoulder blades, his hands moving to do up the zipper she couldn't quite reach.

"you look beautiful." he hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "you deserve better than me."

she giggled softly, tugging his arms away from her hips and around her waist, sinking back into his arms. "no i don't. you're exactly what i want, oscar. you're funny and you're sweet and you make me feel like the best version of myself. you're also really great in bed."

oscar laughed, kissing her softly. he would never get tired of feeling her lips against his. "the boyfriend stuff was never an act. and i volunteered to come with you this weekend because i wanted to get to know you off the track. who you are when you aren't serving legal papers to team principals."

"i only did that once. i missed out on the chance to fight with chip ganassi since arrow has a different legal team." she laughed. "i really like you, oscar."

"and i really like you too, y/n. my perfect, beautiful girl."

-------

the wedding came and went, marking the end of y/n and oscar's dream weekend, the reminder that very soon, they would all be going back to their real lives.

that she and oscar would need to figure out where they stood with each other.

but she didn't want to think about that. not while she was dancing with her sister, the pair of them finally getting along as they screeched the words to an old tove lo song.

oscar watched from the table, sitting next to y/n's mother and making polite conversation as his lovesick eyes found her under the disco lights.

"someone is feeling lovesick tonight." mrs. y/l/n hummed. "we heard you two last night. the motel walls aren't as thick as you think."

oscar blanched, coughing on his drink. "you heard all that?"

y/n's mom laughed. "her father had to leave the room and get a coffee before he walked in there and strangled you. y/n is always going to be his little girl. but she's growing up, and i think if she has you in her life, she'll be okay. you're good together."

oscar was about to say something else when a shout rang through the room. "delia is doing the bouquet toss!"

all of the members of each wedding party gathered in the middle of the floor, y/n's sister standing on the dj stand, her white dress brushing against the floor and picking up specs of dust and dirt, as she lifted the bouquet over her head.

y/n mother rested her hand on oscar's forearm, staring at him with a knowing look, hoping her other daughter would be the next to tie the knot.

sure enough, it was almost like fate as the boquet of white roses soared into the air, nailing y/n right in the face and tumbling into her arms as the other bridesmaids cheered. her face was pink and she was trying to hide behind the bouqet as delia came to pull her into a hug.

"i love you, sis. and i'm sorry i didn't know how to show it when we were younger." delia gushed, kissing her baby sister on the forehead before nodding her head at oscar. "you've got a good one. don't let him get away."

"i won't." she laughed, wiping at the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "i love you, deels."

the song changed, a slow kesha ballad humming through the speakers as the singer crooned about her old flame, and how they couldn't hold a candle to her current love. she turned away from her sister, who had just gone to find her new spouse to dance with, only to see oscar, looking dapper in his black suit and bowtie.

"can i have this dance, my love?"

she smiled, leaving her bouquet with her mother before stepping into oscar's arms, wishing for nothing more than to wrap herself around him like a woolen sweater. she rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to fall into him while they swayed to the music, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead as dolly parton began to sing the second half of the song.

man, she could really get used to this.

get used to oscar.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @silverstonesainz @lorarri @love4lando @thatsdemko @diorleclerc

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

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[librababe99]

Can I please request Jason Todd being jealous of reader and Dick who are close (in age and as friends)? Their ease and dynamic with each other brings out all of Jason’s insecurities as he has a crush on reader.

Anon, I absolutely LOVE this request and finally was able to finish something I think you might just like! 🥰

Title: In the Shadows of a Grayson

Tags: Jason Todd x Gn!Reader, friends to lovers, angst with happy ending wc: 1.4K

Jason Todd wasn’t the brooding type, at least not anymore. Well, maybe he was—but he didn’t like admitting it. He had come a long way since his days as the vengeful Red Hood, as the outcast Robin. But certain feelings were harder to shake than others, especially when it came to you.

You and Dick had been friends for as long as Jason could remember. You were close in age, shared interests, and had that easy, effortless rapport that made everyone in the Batfamily smile. To Jason, it was like watching the sun and moon, two celestial bodies that were just meant to be in sync. He hated it, if he was being honest with himself. Every time you laughed at one of Dick’s jokes, every time you gave him that affectionate look, Jason’s chest tightened.

Not because he disliked Dick. No, Jason respected his older brother more than he’d ever admit. He’d take a bullet for him without hesitation, but seeing the two of you together—seeing you with Dick—it hurt. It was like a reminder of everything Jason wasn’t. Dick was charming, confident, and always knew the right thing to say. Jason was the opposite: rough around the edges, quiet, with his words always coming out too harsh or too clumsy. He never knew how to talk to you the way Dick could.

And the worst part? You were perfect for Dick. At least that’s how it seemed in Jason’s eyes. The way you two talked about old movies, the way you could spend hours discussing literature or some obscure bit of history that left everyone else in the room confused—Jason could never keep up with any of that. It wasn’t his world, not really.

So, he stood on the sidelines, watching, brooding, nursing a crush that had taken root so deeply it hurt.

"Jason?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He had been leaning against the balcony of the Wayne Manor, the Gotham skyline stretching out in front of him. The cold air did little to ease the heat rising in his chest when he turned and saw you walking up to him, your face lit up in that way that made his heart race.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to act casual. “Hey,” he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

You shrugged, stepping closer to lean on the railing beside him. “Needed some fresh air. Dick’s telling another one of his ‘first day as Robin’ stories, and I think I’ve heard it about a hundred times by now.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, though it was more bitter than he intended. “Yeah, he loves those, doesn’t he?”

“Are you okay?” you asked, a little too gently for Jason’s liking. You had that look on your face, the one that said you knew something was bothering him. You were good at that—at reading people, at reading him.

“I’m fine,” he lied, turning his gaze back to the skyline. “Just… thinking.”

You were quiet for a moment, and Jason felt your eyes on him. It was unnerving in the best and worst ways. He didn’t deserve your attention like this, not when his insides were twisted up with jealousy. You deserved someone like Dick—someone better.

“Jason…” You hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You’ve been distant lately. I feel like… I don’t know. Like we haven’t talked in weeks.”

Jason clenched his jaw. Of course you noticed. You always did. He hadn’t been able to look you in the eye for days now, especially not when you were around Dick. It was too much, and he was too afraid that his emotions would slip out if he let his guard down even for a second.

“I’ve been busy,” he said, hoping that would be enough.

But you didn’t back down. You never did when it came to him.

“I miss talking to you, Jay,” you said softly, your voice carrying a sincerity that made his chest ache. “It feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Jason’s hands balled into fists inside his pockets. You weren’t supposed to miss him. You weren’t supposed to care this much. You were supposed to be with Dick, where you belonged, not out here worrying about him.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he grumbled, though he knew it was a lie. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“About what?”

His pulse quickened. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t tell you. The words were stuck in his throat, a bitter tangle of frustration, self-doubt, and longing. He couldn’t compete with Dick. He wasn’t what you needed.

“Look,” Jason sighed, straightening up and turning to face you, his eyes finally locking onto yours. “Why aren’t you with Dick right now? He’s your best friend, right? You’ve known him forever. Why aren’t you inside with him?”

You frowned, confusion crossing your face. “Jason, what are you talking about?”

“You and Dick,” Jason forced out, the words bitter on his tongue. “You’ve always had each other’s backs. You’ve got the same interests, the same everything. You’re perfect for each other. So why the hell are you out here with me?”

Your eyes widened, realization dawning on your face, and Jason hated how vulnerable he felt in that moment, how exposed his insecurities were laid out in front of you.

“Jason… no.” You shook your head, taking a step closer to him. “I’m not—Dick and I, we’re just friends. We’ve always been friends. That’s it.”

Jason blinked, his mind racing to keep up with what you were saying. “But you’re always with him. You two are so close…”

“Because we’re friends,” you repeated, your tone gentle but firm. “That’s all. I’ve never had feelings for Dick. Not like that.”

Jason stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe you, but the nagging doubts in his mind wouldn’t let go. “Then why… why me?”

A small, soft smile tugged at your lips, and you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Because you’re the one I care about, Jason. I like you. Not Dick. Not anyone else. You.”

Jason’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. You liked him? After all this time, all the late nights he spent torturing himself over you and Dick, you had liked him?

“I’ve been waiting for you to see it,” you continued, your voice quiet but sincere. “But you always keep your distance, like you don’t think you deserve it. But Jason… you do.”

Jason swallowed hard, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to handle the sudden flood of relief and disbelief and hope that surged through him. You cared about him. You liked him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, his voice rough, as if the words were dragged out of him.

You smiled softly, shrugging. “I didn’t want to push you. I thought you’d tell me when you were ready. And… I was kind of hoping you’d notice on your own.”

Jason let out a shaky breath, his mind still trying to catch up to everything that had just happened. He had spent so long convinced that you belonged to someone else, that he had blinded himself to the truth right in front of him.

Tentatively, Jason reached up and cupped your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Maybe a little,” you teased, your eyes shining with affection. “But I like you anyway.”

Jason couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, the weight in his chest finally lifting. He had spent so long hiding his feelings, afraid of rejection, afraid of not being enough. But standing here with you, looking into your eyes, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.

Without another word, Jason leaned down and kissed you, the lingering doubts and insecurities melting away in the warmth of your touch. You kissed him back with a quiet intensity that made his heart race, and for the first time in a long time, Jason let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he could be enough.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breath warm against his skin. “See?” you whispered. “You’re the one I want, Jason. No one else.”

Jason closed his eyes, holding you close, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to breathe.

Maybe he wasn’t perfect, and maybe he wasn’t always the easiest person to love, but as long as you were by his side, he knew he’d be okay.

And that was enough.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

15:30 ー GOJOU SATORU. i like you best when you're annoying me.

saying you hated gojou satoru would be overexaggerating. no, a more accurate sentiment would be dislike.

you can respect gojou satoru.

you can even, at your most awake, tolerate him.

but he was most certainly a thorn in your side for the better part of your knowing each other the past three years. he was an annoyance, an arrogant one. but you suppose if your birth had literally shaken up the world of jujutsu as the world knew it, you'd probably have the attitude to match yourself. but your birth hadn't shaken up the world of jujutsu and your disposition matched it as one of the blessed average sorcerers forced to watch your cocky classmate be bestowed the title "the strongest".

he was obnoxious,

loud,

and quite frankly, not as charming as he believed himself to be though the amount of people who get wrapped into his whims might argue against you.

but this gojou satoru, the one sitting on the steps of jujutsu tech quietly and alone is a sight too strange for you to adjust to. you'd seen him once a year before after the disaster that was the star plasma vessel mission he'd failed. somehow, this satoru was even more depressed than that.

it had been no business of yours that suguru had seemed out of it lately. you hadn't really been friends with any of the other three people in your class, preferring company elsewhere in the school. satoru's friends were his friends and yours were yours. but to the one of the trio who'd been definitively closest to the defector of your entire organization, you supposed for satoru that hit even more than the loss of amanai riko.

so despite wanting to quietly walk by and leaving the boy to his thoughts, you somehow find yourself giving a light kick to his infinity and drawing his attention.

"did you want something?" satoru peers at you from his lowered shades.

"was just checking to see if i'd finally nail you with a kick before i head off to enoshima," you shrug. "looks like it's not my lucky day after all."

"nope, sorry, i'm a master now," satoru's smiling but it isn't reaching his eyes. you weren't a fan of his eyes despite loving the color blue. you'd sooner tell him to get a pair of brown contacts if he ever took his sunglasses off, you vaguely remember telling him that once as first years. you decide you hate the color of his eyes that are swamped in depression and sadness even more. "it'll take a lot more than that to throw me off my game."

dull eyes, eyebags and with faked bravado he's probably hoping you won't comment on.

you pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh. i'm no match for someone who looks like a kicked puppy. "look, we're not friends," you start rest your hands on your hips as satoru's expression morphs from surprised to unamused. "i can barely stand you on the best of the days and on the worst i pray a bus stronger than your infinity will hit you. if i knew that coming in when i did would result in the two of us being in the same class for three years, i would have gone to kyoto or asked my parents to hold me back a year."

"geez, thanks, [first], i appreciate the warm words," satoru grumbles, decidedly bored of the conversation as he rested his chin on his palm once more.

"you're a loudmouth, you're rude, your eyes are a shade of blue i somehow can't stand and i'm pretty sure you're starting to tune me out," no surprise there. your words weren't exactly the warmest or the nicest. "my point is," you consider flicking him, but you keep your hands where you've left them when you remember infinity. "i like you best when you're annoying me. you being quiet and gloomy throws me off, so go back to being annoying."

when you've had enough of him staring at you as if you've suddenly grown a third head, you walk past him. "that's all i wanted to say," you mutter with more than a hint of finality as you walk past your special-grade classmate feeling as if your back was burning. he really does need brown contacts, you think with a huff. i'll tell shoko to cheer him up or something.

"[first]!" when you look over your shoulder, he's waving and the grin on his face looks a tad more real than the one he gave you a few moments ago. "when you get back from enoshima, i'll be as annoying as you want!"

you can't help a small smile of your own, "don't hurt yourself while you're doing it," you give a two-fingered salute back.

i should have just ignored him. if i knew he was gonna make me do this when i got back, i would have just ignored him.

"gojou, when i said i wanted you to go back to annoying me, this isn't what i meant," your eye is twitching as satoru throws an arm over your shoulder with a beam. he isn't using his infinity, that's good. you hope he keeps it off long enough for you to throw something at his face.

him roping you into helping him move his things into a new apartment after graduation was one thing; satoru roping you into his new venture into parenthood was an entirely different beast.

"come on, [first], don't you wanna be co-parents with me?" satoru laughs at your scowl. "we're partners!"

"no, i don't," you tell him pointedly and yet somehow you're still grabbing ingredients to make enough for four people and then some. "we're barely even fri-

satoru blinks at you with a deadpan expression, "but i already told the kids we would be taking care of them."

"we?"

"well, it's not like i know how to cook and everything shoko makes tastes like medicine," satoru replies like it's obvious. "you're the only saving grace here, please?"

"i hope you know i hate you," you finally reply after a moment. he wins, of course satoru wins.

"love you too, [first]," satoru chuckles, tossing in a bag of sweet treats into your shopping cart. "besides, we've been friends since you got back from enoshima months ago. i still remember the heart-warming speech you gave me on the staircase of jujutsu tech!"

"if what you got from what i said was an invitation for friendship, you need to get your ears cleaned," or at the very least he needed to stop sneaking bags of candy into the shopping cart.

satoru grins, "it's for the kids!"

you look at him all-knowing and unamused, "the kids don't need 5 bags of kit kats."

"not with that attitude."

the gojou fic i wanted to have up before i moved isn't going to be done until next month, but i'll feel bad not writing 2 months in a row so you guys can have this gojou timestamp to hold you over until then

[bitchy-craft]

A Love Letter From Your Future Spouse | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out about a love letter that your future spouse wrote. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterpost > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

To My Beloved [Name],

As the sun sets and the stars fill the sky, my thoughts are consumed by one person— you. Words alone cannot express the depth of emotions that surge within me whenever I think of you. You have become the center of my universe, the reason behind my smiles, and the beating of my heart.

From the very beginning, you captured my attention with your grace, intelligence, and compassion. Your mere presence illuminates the darkest corners of my soul, bringing forth a love that grows stronger with every passing day. Your gentle touch and the sound of your laughter are etched in my memory, comforting me even in your absence.

In your arms, I have found a sanctuary—a place where I feel safe, accepted, and cherished for who I truly am. Your love has shown me the beauty of vulnerability, the power of trust, and the profound joy of a genuine connection. With you, I can be my authentic self, unafraid and unreserved.

My beloved, every moment we share is a treasure to be cherished. From stolen glances to whispered secrets, our bond deepens, weaving our lives together in a tapestry of love. You have become an irreplaceable part of me, and I cannot imagine a future without your love by my side.

Today, tomorrow, and for all the days to come, I promise to stand by your side through thick and thin. I will hold your dreams as dearly as my own and support you in every endeavor. Together, we will conquer the world, hand in hand, and build a love that withstands the tests of time.

With all my love and devotion,

[Future Spouse]

Pile 2:

My Dearest [Name],

I find myself constantly amazed by the depth of emotions you awaken within me. From the moment our paths intertwined, my life took on a new meaning, and my heart found its true home in you. The love we share is a gift I treasure above all else, and I cannot imagine a life without your presence.

In your embrace, I find a sense of belonging that surpasses any words or gestures. Your touch sends shivers down my spine, igniting a fire that burns passionately within me. With you, I feel a connection that reaches beyond the physical realm—a connection of souls that is rare and beautiful.

You have seen me at my best and my worst, yet your love remains unwavering. You have embraced my flaws and imperfections, loving every part of me unconditionally. Your acceptance has allowed me to grow and blossom into a better version of myself, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Every day spent with you is a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared dreams, and a love that knows no boundaries. We have weathered storms together, emerging stronger and more resilient each time. Our love is built on a foundation of trust, respect, and a deep understanding of one another.

My love, I promise to nurture our relationship with care and devotion. I will be there to lift you up in times of doubt, to provide solace when you need it, and to celebrate the triumphs we achieve as a team. Together, we can conquer any obstacle and create a future filled with love, happiness, and endless possibilities.

As the seasons change and years pass, my love for you only grows deeper. I am grateful for the memories we have created and excited for the moments that lie ahead. You are my forever, my soulmate, and with you, I have found a love that surpasses all expectations.

With all the love in my heart,

[Future Spouse]

Pile 3:

As I sit here, pen in hand, trying to capture the depth of my feelings for you, words seem to fall short. Yet, I cannot let another day pass without expressing the immense love I hold in my heart for you. You are the person who has touched my soul in ways I never thought possible.

From the moment our eyes first met, a spark ignited within me, and it has only grown stronger with time. Your smile, your laughter, the way your eyes light up when you talk about your passions—every aspect of you fascinates and captivates me. Your presence alone brings warmth and joy to my life.

In your arms, I find solace and comfort, knowing that I am loved unconditionally. Your love has transformed me, opening my heart to a world of possibilities. You have shown me the true meaning of happiness and taught me to embrace every moment, cherishing the beauty of our shared journey.

When we are apart, I yearn for your touch, your voice, and the way you make me feel alive. Every second spent away from you feels like an eternity, and I find myself counting down the minutes until we can be together again. You are the missing piece that completes me, and I am forever grateful to have you by my side.

My love, I promise to cherish and protect what we have built together. I vow to support your dreams, to be your rock when life gets tough, and to celebrate your victories with unwavering enthusiasm. Together, we can conquer any obstacle and create a love story that will stand the test of time.

With all the love in my heart and soul,

[Future Spouse]

[hyun-xxe]

You're Mine, Silly! (PART 2)

summary: He was once your Bias of your favorite Kpop group, BTS. However, seeing his true colors made you rethink everything you ever thought of him. Who truly is Jungkook?

Warnings: non-con touching, non-con kissing, kidnapping, drugging, forceful grabbing, non-con sex, smut

Part 2!

*sorry for any spelling errors!*

Yandere!Jeong Jungook x F!reader

You didn't want to meet up with Jungkook, it was the last thing on your plate. However, you knew the power he held and how he could make your life a living hell.

After receiving his text about where to meet him, you texted your boyfriend everything that happened to update him about the situation.

Your heart broke seeing his messages and how sad he was, Elijah didn't deserve this and neither did you.

Jungkook: make sure to dress nicely, ok? i want to see my love looking her best!

You sighed as you slipped on your pink floral dress, the cotton material hugging your chest and body nicely. Not only that, you also made sure to place your phone on voice message so you could use anything against him if the worst happens.

After seeing you were ready, you drove over to the newly opened cafe that everyone was currently obsessed with. It scared you knowing that the place was most likely going to be packed with customers and some might be fans of the group.

You texted Jungkook, letting him know you were there. When he told you he was inside, you grabbed your purse and walked through the doors only to be shocked at the scene.

He wasn't wearing any disguise or hat like he promised, he was just out in the open, smiling at fans and even signing one paper from a fan. It made you freeze in your step. He set this all up and there is nothing you could do about this.

His eyes met your figure and he stood up, pushing some of of the people out of the way. Once he met you, he gave you a kiss on your cheek before directing you to sit down in his booth.

All the fans around him smiled and giggled, ogling about how cute you two were. A big part of you wanted to scream that he was a crazy man and that you two weren't even dating, but you knew you would be the one looking crazy.

"How are you my love?" he asks, giving you a big smile.

If none of this were to happen, you would've fallen for that smile and gushed about how innocent he is.

"I-I'm doing good. I thought this was going to be a private dinner?" you whispered, looking around and making sure no one was listening. Luckily his bodyguards were sitting in the booth behind you guys so you had freewill to talk a little louder.

"Oh, I don't recall saying it was going to be private darling. What made you think that?" he chuckled, picking up his menu, "What do you want?"

Was this man serious? You thought to yourself. It pissed you off how condescending he was being and made you feel stupid.

"Jungkook, you know why I am here in the first place. Besides, you promised you would wear a disguise!" you hissed, giving him a glare.

He gives you a sad look and sighs loudly, loud enough for some nearby to hear. "I-I'm sorry Y/N! I didn't mean to surprise you like this! I just wanted the be-best for my love!" he looked down at his hands, playing with them.

You saw the others give him a look of sympathy all while giving you a tiny dirty look. He was playing his cards.

"No, don't say that honey," you grabbed his hand softly, making you cringe inside, "I just had a tired day at the office and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Jungkook gives you a smirk, earning his respect just a little for also playing this game. But he knew he could do better.

Taking his hand out of yours, he placed both on each side of your face and pulled you in, giving you a almost sweet kiss, but you knew that this kiss also had a warning to it.

After he released you, he held your hand again, preventing you from wiping it off in a subtle way.

"Are we going to talk about this whole thing?" You ask, glaring at him, "I want to go back to how things were."

He pretends to ignore you as he picks up his menu with his free hand, scanning through the options, "They have a blueberry muffin, you want to try that?" he asks.

You grit your teeth at his reaction, "Jungkook, I'm talking to you. You had the fucking audacity to kiss me without my permission and now you're ignoring me."

"What is there to talk about?" he questions, "We are on a date, lets just enjoy it."

He was getting crazier and crazier each time he opened his mouth. This man truly believed that based off your five minute convseration with him that night, that both of you were together and happy.

"This is NOT a date! This is to put those rumors aside and get back to my life with my loving boyfriend. Now, if you have nothing to say, I am going to leave."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "You really think I'll let you go this easy?" he lowers his head a bit, "You're fucking stupid if you think you can just walk out of here. Did you forget the power I have? Do you really want to test it?"

The threat sounded fake and real at the same time. You didn't know if he was truly insane enough to pull a stunt like that, but knowing him and how hes acting, you knew better than to test his patience.

"Why me, of all people? Isn't there much better girls out there?"

He gives you a soft look and you could've sworn you saw the normal side of him.

"There is just something about you that caught my attention. I just couldn't stop thinking about you and knew I ahd to make you mine," he leans in closer to you, "This hold you have on me is making me crazy. If i could, right now I would bend you down and fuck you right here, showing everyone you're mine."

Your eyes widened and your face became hot. Did he seriously just say that?

"Oh, that idea made you blush huh." he smirks.

You shake your head, "No, it didn't! Jungkook, I have a boyfriend. Just because you found me attractive and fell for me, doesn't give you the right to pull this shit."

Your response made him go quiet for a minute as he seemed to be in deep thought. Did it really work? could that wake him up?

He stood up and held out his hand to you, "Come on love, lets get out of here."

You were so confused by his actions and looked around to see everyone looking with their phones out.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, not taking his hand yet.

He smiled and grabbed your hand by force, "I wanna show you something!" he hoist you up from your seat and leads you outside to a black van where the windows were shut closed with curtains.

"W-wait!" you say, trying your best to pull back, "I have my own car, I'll meet you there, I promise!"

Jungkook shakes his head, "No, there is no need. Give your keys to my guys and they'll take it for you."

You looked at him as if he was crazy, which he was, "No, are you kidding me? Thats my car!"

He steps close to you and whispers in your ear, "Do you really want to act like a brat with others looking right now?"

Knowing he was right that others were watching and recording, you gave your keys to his guys and got inside the van with him.

As you entered, you looked aorund and noticed the black interior. The curtains were enclosing the back to the front and it made you scared about the ideas this crazy man had in mind.

"Where are we going?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

"You'll see." he says and starts the car, driving to god knows where.

It took about 15 minutes to make it to the destination and as you looked out, your heart dropped. It wasa secluded area where the trees were tall enough to block out the sun that was out. It was obvious you were in the woods but you couldn't tell how deep since this entire way you were just lost in thought on how to escape.

"Uhm, what are we doing here?" you asked, giving him a nervous smile.

He turns to you and unbuckles your seat belt, "Come on, lets go back there."

You turn to open the door and run out, but he locked it just in time.

"do you think I'm that stupid without taking into account that you could easily escape?" he laughs, "How cute."

"W-what if you try and kill me?! I don't want to be near you!" you screamed, banging on the window, hoping there was someone outside that could hear you.

"Y/N, I would never hurt you like that, I love you too much to even think of that. come on, lets just go back there."

As you two finally make it to the back, you tried your best to pull on the handles of the doors, hoping it would open. You don't know what plans he has, but you sure as hell weren't going to stay and find out.

"If you fucking touch me, I'll do everything I can to scratch and bite." you warned him, pointing your finger at him.

He just smiled and moved closer to you, "You threatening me turns me on just a bit." his voices darkens. "Please, continue your threat."

You found him sick and scooted farther away, but as your back hit the door you knew there wasn't enough space between you.

"Please, Jungkook, lets not do this. Just let me go, I promise I won't tell anyone about this."

He stares deep into your eyes and smiles, "Are you kidding me? I will never let you go, you're the best thing that has happened to me." He reaches his thumb out and brushes against your lips, playing with them.

You pulled your head back, pushing his thumb away. "Don't you touch me! Don't think I won't hurt you!"

Jungkook takes a step back, "fine, whatever you say princess. I won't touch you."

You thought of plans to escape and were to lost in thought that you didn't notice how hot it became. The windows felt cool and so did the seat, so why did you feel like you were burning up.

fanning yourself and looking around, you tried getting cool air to hit you, but even if it did, the feeling would go away after a second. "Why is it so hot in here?" you asked, looking at Jungkook who seems to be perfectly fine.

"What are you talking about?"

You ignored him and tried sitting up, flipping your dress up to fan your stomach and legs. When your hand accidentally brushed your breast, you flinched back. It felt so sensitive.

Suddenly, your core felt wet and when you sat up more, the friction of it hitting the seat made you bite back a moan. It felt so good, and yet so sensitive.

You needed to feel it more, so you did it again and this time, a string of moans left you.

Jungkook looked over your way with his eyebrows raised, "Is everything good there?" he asked, smirking at the scene.

Trying your best to act normal, you nodded your head. Every place of you ached and you needed to be touched. "What is happening to me? Why am I acting like this?" you bite out, squeezing your eyes shut.

He moved closer to you, his had gracing over your breast, drawing out more moans from you.

It felt amazing.

"Did that feel good?" he questions in a lower voice.

You nodded your head, still refusing to open your eyes.

"Want me to do it again?"

you shake your head, remembering Elijah and how devestated he would be if he found out about this. He was already hurt by everything, why would u hurt him again?

"G-get away from me, now!" you yell, looking the other way.

Jungkook chuckles and moves closer, his body trapping you. His lips ghost your neck as he licked up to your chin. You tasted amazing. "We both know you need this, why fight it?"

his had went to your boob as he played with it all while sucking on your neck and chin. Everything felt amazing and you couldn't find it in you to tell him to stop.

A moan left you as he turned your body to him.

He kissed up to your mouth and looked deep into your eyes, "You want this, right?"

You shook your head, "E-Elija- nngh!" he kissed you with passion, cutting off your sentence.

His hands started to roam dangerously low to your area and it felt too good to stop him. You didn't want it, you wanted to fight him off, but you couldn't.

Jungkook's fingers touched your clit and started to rub circles, feeling the wetness through your panties.

"You say no but your body says differently."

He stops kissing you and lowers his head to your core, removing your panties down to your ankle and staring at your glory.

It looked delicous and he wanted to taste every part of you.

Diving his head in, he starts to lick around, and once he heard you moan loudly from his tongue swirling your bud, he continued to do so at that pace, sometimes going faster and rough.

"P-please st- nnghh! Mhmmm~" you lewed out, heading thrown back as you felt your legs become weak from the sensation. You felt a knot in your stomach and felt yourself needing to release.

"S-so close!" you yell, moans leaving your lips.

You were so close, but he stopped. Why did he stop.

Looking down, you notice the smirk on his face. "You told me to stop, so I'll listen to your wishes." he wipes your juice off his face and was about to stand up, but you pushed him back down.

"Please, Jungkook! Please, pleasure me and take me." you plead, wanting to feel that rush again.

He smiles and raises an eyebrow, "But, who do you belong to?"

Everything about Elijah left your mind as you felt him near your core. "You, I belong to you!"

Thats all he needed to hear as he dove back in, licking and slurping up all your juices. As he was doing so, he entered two fingers into your pussy, feeling you tighten around his fingers. He needed to be inside you.

When you released all over his face, he made sure to lick it all up. It felt like heaven to him seeing your face and how good he knew you felt.

He quickly unbuckled his pants and drew out his hardened member, picking you up from the seat and onto the floor, he crawled ontop of you and gave you sweet kisses.

"I've always wanted this." he whispers before shoving his dick inside, feeling your pussy tighten around his member gave him the euphoria he never knew he needed or could experience.

He brutally kept his pace fast and strong, hearing you moan out his name and claw his back knowing it would leave marks on him and it excited him more, it would leave your marks.

As he kept slamming in you, he gave you kisses everywhere and made sure to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He loved how you reciprocated things back and soon, you came all over again.

He was so close to he held you close as he finally released inside of you, white strings coating your walls.

Jungkook laid on top of you, after that, still leaving small kisses on you. He made sure to keep his dick in you so his cum could stay there, hoping that soon maybe, he could be apart of your forever.

As things died down, everything crashed on you. The betrayal that you knew Elijah was going to feel, Jungkook taking advantage and having his way with you.

All of this made you gasp. You haven't taken your pills in months and you didn't wear protection.

Jungkook looked up and smiled, "I'm never letting you go, I love you too much."

[tearsaura]

Until the end and beyond // Bodhi Durran x reader

A/N: Based on this request. I tried my best, I hope you like it!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Angst, obvious Ironflame/ Fourth wing spoilers, possible grammar mistakes (it will be the death of me :()

Picture is from pinterest: torysacrux

Jealousy was an ugly feeling. But it became even uglier when it was over something so nonchalant.

--

Y/N knew the marked riders wouldn't be thrilled with her even before she signed up to become a rider. It would have been odd if they weren't at least a little biased towards her, considering she was King Tauri's niece.

She never resented them for their hostility towards her and was understanding. She would’ve probably hated herself too.

One morning though, she ran into Bodhi Durran. Verbatim. She had forgotten her books in her room and was racing back after breakfast to get to class on time when she bumped into Bodhi, his hand shooting out to keep her from falling.

Of course, she knew him before that, his beauty always mesmerizing her, and when he smiled, she melted.

From there, history wrote itself: they became friendly with each other, then friends, and by the end of their first year, they finally became a couple.

--

She couldn't force his friends to like her. However, it still hurt. They were Bodhi's family and although he was quick to shut down Imogen's or Xaden's snarky comments, he was powerless to do anything when he wasn’t there to witness them.

Violet's arrival didn't make things any better. Y/N knew the others were friendlier to Violet because Xaden's life depended on hers, but she couldn't suppress the jealousy: it was unbearable to see how easy they talked to her when her mother had done just as horrible things as her uncle had done. She envied Violet and felt terrible about it.

-----

''My muscles have been aching all day,'' Violet grumbled as she massaged her left arm. ''You should tell Imogen to ease up on the training.'' Rhiannon replied. The students, both riders and flyers, stood outside the house, all waiting for their respective professors.

She was in the second wing at Basgiath College, but since few of her wing had come with her to Aretia, they were spread out and she ended up in the fourth wing, at least that way she was always close to Bodhi.

However, she earned angry looks not solely by the marked ones now, but by the fliers too.

''You should look out for lavender and make an oil out of it. Rubbing Lavender oil on the sore muscles can help relieve the pain.'' Y/N said in a timid voice and gave her a shy smile.

,,Oh god! I completely forgot about that. Thanks!'' Y/N was about to say something back when Imogen approached them. She grabbed both Rhiannon and Violet and pulled them away by the arms. ''We have work to do''.

-----

That evening, she layed with Bodhi as usual, her head resting on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. He ran a hand through her hair and breathed kisses on her head consistently.

"How was your day, darling?" he whispered. ''Like any other, the best part of my day is when I'm with you.'' She replied, which made him grin. ''Coincidentally, that’s the best part of my day too.'' ''Hm…That is a weird coincidence.’’

He tickled her side and broke into a grin once again when he heard her giggle. He could be having the worst day of his life, but the sound of her laughter would make it a good one. ''Did my friends act like immature little children today?'' he finally asked, and Y/n shrugged. ''I didn't really see them today,'' she answered, and Bodhi nodded thoughtfully. He left it at that and decided for now not to call her out on her obvious lie.

--

The straw that broke the camels back came about two weeks later.

Y/N had just packed a lavender oil mixture in a small bottle and set off in search of Violet. Her feelings of guilt over the jealousy gnawed at her and she decided to help the girl. She spotted Violets distinctive brown and silver hair in the great hall, where she stood by Xaden, Imogen, Garrick and Bodhi. The latter smiled when he spotted her and held out his arm to her.

"There you are, my dear. I missed you.'' she grinned and let him pull her in his arms and he pressed a kiss to her temple. Y/N didn't miss Imogen's eyeroll ''What do you have there?'' ''Lavender oil. Violet? For your sore muscles.'' She said, holding out the small bottle to the younger girl. ''Oh, thank you! You're a savior-'' Before Viole could reach for the bottle, Xaden knocked it out of her hand.

"Xaden!" "What are you doing?" Bodhi and Violet both exclaimed at the same time, one angrier than the other. ''Don't trust her! Who knows what's in there!'' he hissed, and Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes. They would never change their mind on her, no matter what she did, they would only see her as an enemy. Never an acquaintance and certainly not a friend. She disentangled herself from Bodhi's arms and gave him a forced smile. ''I'll see you later.'' she pressed another kiss to his cheek and with that, she left without waiting for a reply.

''She made me a lavender oil for my aching muscles! "And that doesn't seem strange to you? ''Why should it when I told her myself that I've been having problems lately?'' 'I've been telling you; you can't trust her!''

"What are you implying?" Bodhi interrupted him in a calm voice as he turned back to his cousin. ''You know what I think of her. So you know what I meant, too''

"Are you being serious right now?" Bodhi asked with a humourless laugh. 'I'm sick and tired of you treating her like this. She has never done anything to you and has always treated you with respect, even though none of you deserved it. You should know how shitty it is when people treat you badly because of your family. We all welcomed Violet with open arms when she was General Sorrengail's daughter and not Xaden's girlfriend, but you couldn't do the same for my girlfriend? I love that woman more than anything and I couldn't even protect her from you. I failed as a boyfriend in every way. It's a bloody miracle she didn't break up with me until now! And to be honest I would not blame her if she did: She has every right to,'' Bodhi's voice broke and he turned his head to the side. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of those assholes. Xaden paused, Imogen sought Bodhi's gaze, and Garrick stared at the floor. Guilt crept through all three of them, one more than the other. "Honestly I can’t stand to see any of you right now. I'm very disappointed in you guys.''

-----

Was she such a monster? Did they think she had so much hatred that she would deliberately poison someone?

Violet stood outside her room door shortly after the incident and begged her to let her in, apologizing repeatedly, but Y/N pretended not to hear her. Violet had given up and shortly after that, Bodhi arrived, whom she also left standing there.

The embarrassment was running too deep, and the thought that she had put Bodhi in such an awkward situation with his family time and time again made her sick.

Bodhi, being the understanding and wonderful person he was, left too, understanding that she needed to be alone.

When the knock came for the third time, hours later, Y/N was still holding the pillow to her face to stifle her sobs.

"I know you're in there, open up, I want to talk to you." Y/N froze when she recognized Imogen's voice. She still hesitated and swore she heard a sigh from the other side of the door.

''I'm not here to insult you any more than I’ve already done. I'll be nice, I promise.'' Y/N thought about it for a moment, but then decided to go for it. What else did she have to lose that she hadn't already gambled away?

Without worrying about her swollen eyes and red nose, she pulled open the door and stared at Imogen. "Are you going to let me in?’’ she wordlessly stepped aside and gestured for her to come in and closed the door.

Y/N sat back on her bed and looked at Imogen expectantly. The pink-haired rider sat down next to her.

"No matter what I say, it won't make up for the way we've treated you for the past two years, but I'll say it anyway: I'm sorry." She said, looking at Y/N. Even though she would never admit it to anyone, her heart broke at the sight of her shaken form.

''Why the change of heart?"

"Realization. We made Bodhi's life difficult; we made it difficult for you and that only because you guys fell in love. It's no excuse but pretty much all the rest of us follow Xaden's way of thinking. We owe everything to him, and his intuition has rarely let him down. If he sees an enemy in someone, it's usually true.''

'Not all of you follow his way of thinking,' Y/N replied, glancing at Imogen, who gave her a sad smile.

''Liam was a great exception in every way possible. None of us will ever live up to him.''

''I expected even before I started at the quadrant that we wouldn't necessarily be the best of friends. I totally understood where you guys were coming from, but it's one thing to avoid a stranger and another to make your best friend's life a living hell because he fell in love with the wrong person. I don't care how you treated me, but I will never forget what you did to Bodhi. Just as I will never forgive myself for being the cause of his suffering.'' Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and Imogen placed a hesitant hand on hers.

I have never seen Bodhi as happy as he is with you. We all have a long way to go to make it up to you. I'm not good at this emotional stuff, but I want the people who are important to me to survive. And you are now one of those people, which is why I'm expecting you for training tomorrow morning before breakfast. You can never work enough on your fitness and physical strength.'' ''Only if I can give you a crash course on medicinal and toxic plants afterward. I don't want a repeat of the lavender oil incident.'' Y/N countered, and Imogen snorted out a laugh. ''No, you should be bland I can’t actually start to like you! Otherwise, I'll feel even worse than I already do.''

''You're forgiven. I want to put this behind me and concentrate on what's in front of us. My only condition for my forgiveness is that you apologize to Bodhi, too.''

''First thing in the morning-'' Imogen was interrupted by a knock on the door. The girls both looked at each other puzzled, and Y/N went quietly to open the door, only to reveal Bodhi standing behind it. His hair was tousled, he was already in his pyjamas and he had a hopeful look on his face.

"Can we talk? '' ''Yes, yes of course come in.'' When Bodhi stepped into the room and caught sight of Imogen, he raised his eyebrows prompting.

''I came with a white flag and will leave you two alone. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Imogen asked, heading for the door. ''Well-rested and ready to go. Have Good night.'' ''You too.'' With that, she left, and Bodhi and Y/N were alone in the room. He turned to his girlfriend curiously: ''What was this about?''

''She asked for forgiveness.'' Bodhi couldn't help the grin that spread across his face and Y/N swore she was falling in love all over again.

"Really?" she nodded and swallowed.

''Bodhi, I'm sorry I didn't open the door for you earlier...'' ''Hey, it's all right, you don't have to apologize. You needed time for yourself, and I totally understand that. If anyone must apologize, it's me.''

''Bodhi-''

"I love you and I can see what their behaviour did to you, and I should have done much more about it. I should have stood up for you more. I failed and I am so incredibly sorry...''

'Bodhi, I would never blame you for that. Don't say that you can't even think that, I love you. I'm sorry that our relationship has put you in such a position with your friends in the first place.'' She murmured and Bodhi closed the distance between them with two steps, taking her face in both hands.

'I've never had doubts about our relationship. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and ever will. I thank every god that there is and heaven for you and not a day goes by that my love for you doesn't grow. I want to spend my life with you and never be a day without you.''

''I don't want that either.''

''Good, because I'll be yours for as long as you want me.''

''I want you until the end and beyond that.''

'Until the end and beyond it is then.''

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

Linda Flynn-Fletcher

I think Linda Flynn-Fletcher is potentially one of the most misunderstood characters in the show.

It think comes from a natural enough place. Her role in the show is of course, to act as the potential threat to their summers of fun. While they boys never see her as a threat, narratively she's the big bad. If she sees it, its game over.

Here's the thing though. She's a not a bad mom. Her children LOVE her. Similarly to how Phineas and Ferb absolutely adore Candace and would do nearly anything she asked, Phineas, Ferb and Candace all love and respect their mother and don't disobey her. Now a bit of this is clearly Linda being a more permissive parent, but any rules that Linda has Phineas and Ferb never do anything to disobey their mother. While I wouldn't be surprised if there were one or two instances where Candace disobeyed her mother willfully, the closest I can think off off hand is Candace not doing a bunch of chores that she was supposed to do. Really, the fact that all her kids love her, shows how much all her kids feel loved in their household. And I think that's super important. Candace wrote a song about how much she feels loved by her mom, even if her mom is dismissive of Candace. But she still goes with Candace to see what the boys are up to even if she doesn't believe it. She sets boundaries on how often Candace can bust the boys sure. But she hasn't forbidden Candace from doing it altogether. Nor does she punish Candace for presumably lying?

At MOST Linda will say something like: "let's get you out of the sun" after a failed bust. The worst of it I think is probably the time Linda made her promise not to try or suffer the Pharaohs curse. Which, was just some guy in a Pharaoh costume telling Candace curse you. Linda goes out of her way to read books to try and deal with her daughter. She and Candace still clearly hold a lot of affection for each other and do spend a decent amount of mother daughter time together. Linda gives books to her daughter, tries to direct her to other activities, and finds her sleep busting cute, and sometimes goes out of her way to do activities her daughter wants to do with her. All things considered Linda is REALLY patient about Candace's busting. Could she be doing more to get to the bottom of why Candace is presumably acting out? Sure. But Doofensmirtz could also be doing a better job of listening to his daughter and not insulting her (or do we not remember why Vanessa wears earbuds around the house) but we all call him a really good dad.

A LOT of shows have kids hiding a secret from a parent for one reason of another. But while the crux of the show rests on Linda not knowing what her sons are doing, its not because its a secret. The boys aren't hiding it from her. The boys genuinely believe she knows. Lawrence genuinely believes she knows. Candace is the only one in the family who really grasps the situation.

Linda's ignorance, her disbelief of the wild shenanigans that her children get into is easily mistakable for normality. For representing the oppressive day to day. The same thematic antagonist as school. A mom who wants whats best for her kids, and thinks that whats best for them is them being normal, without realizing what's really best for them. After all why else we saw what would happen if she found out in Quantum Boogaloo. But the fact of the matter is aside from that one future (which also featured an effectively evil leader in Doofensmirtz, and therefore implies more factors at play than just Doofensmirtz and Linda's characters), we don't really know how it would play out in the long term. Future Linda even just kinda moves on after discovering the truth.

Linda is exactly like her kids. She just does the same things on a less physics breaking scale. The woman has like 37 different hobbies. She takes a cooking class, donated an art sculpture, is part of a jazz group. She has a background in astrophysics. She was a pop star. She won a meatloaf contest. She takes french lessons. The fact that Linda has several hobbies is part of the reason the formula works at all. Linda is constantly trying new things which gets her out of the house, while her sons are trying their own new things. Her absence is what prompts Candace to have to go looking for her. Also, What Do It Do when the moment Linda gets put in Candace's position she acts the exact same way.

Also it's why she and Lawrence are so compatible. They have a lot of weird hobbies they spend together. She likes Lawrence's history references. They watch car racing together. They went spelunking together. They go bowling regularly enough to have equipment. She has played the bagpipes while Lawrence danced (which sidenote: do you think she taught Candace how to play the bagpipes?).

Not to mention her extended family. Think about it. Her mom was a competitive roller derby skater who once bit a skate and shook it like a dog with a chew toy and pulls elaborate pranks with her identical twin. Really she's a lot like Candace with her aggressive passion. Her dad apparently won a balloon race, but tells the story in the most straightforward way possible, sometimes very oblivious, but is overall a lot like Phineas. Her sister is an adrenaline junky. And back to Quantum Boogaloo for a minute: Her granddaughter is just like Candace, Grown up Candace is a lot like Linda. Do you not see the implications!!?!?!? LIKE???? DO YOU NOT REALIZE THAT LINDA WAS PROBABLY A LOT LIKE CANDACE AND PHINEAS WHEN SHE WAS YOUNGER?!!?! YOU THINK IT SKIPPED A GENERATION OR SOMETHING???

Do you think Linda used to complain about Tiana??? Do you think Linda thought her family was weird and was embarrassed by them??? Do you think Linda ever called herself the only mature/normal member of her family?? LIKE CANDACE DOES????

Anyway, Linda is just like her family. Sure, she is RELATIVELY more normal, but that's relative, and probably simply because the universe bends itself around to keep her from knowing. Linda literally cannot find out about the real nature of her universe. Linda is just a grown up version of her children, seeking to make the most of each day, but within the bounds the universe has set upon her, both as an adult woman and mother, but also in the laws of physics expected of her. But she still makes the most of her life. You don't have to build a roller coaster to make the most of each day and all that.

I think if Linda is representing anything its that even parents can have rich fulfilling lives. Where they make the most out of each day. Having fun with your life doesn't stop with adulthood. Even if you have more responsibilities doesn't mean you can't have fun? Sure childhood is something you can't get back but growing up isn't inherently bad either?

[babydollmarauders]

MEAN — ALEX TURCOTTE

alex turcotte x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n opens up to Alex about the hate she’s been receiving from his fans

notes: not proofread! so sorry if it sucks!

y/nonthegram

liked by _alexturcotte, trevorzegras, and 7,297 others

y/nonthegram on a date and our waiter called me a bitch… anyone know what number i can call to complain?

tagged _alexturcotte and trevorzegras

user47 awww they went to dux in tux to support trevor!

_alexturcotte my girl 🖤

y/nonthegram my boy 🤍

user16 thank god she didn’t show her face

trevorzegras sorry, we don’t take complaints 🙅‍♂️ only compliments 💁‍♂️

y/nonthegram that feels very unprofessional

trevorzegras who ever said i was professional? 🤔

jackhughes my boys! looking dapper! and y/n!

y/nonthegram this is y/nphobic

jackhughes i acknowledged you, didn’t i?

y/nonthegram barely

colecaufield @/y/nonthegram i’ll acknowledge you! you look beautiful, y/n!

y/nonthegram @/colecaufield thank you! at least someone appreciates me!

user63 well… trevor wasn’t very far off

user77 have you ever even met her? she’s literally the nicest person ever

user21 she gives mean girl bitch vibes so idc

user98 impatiently waiting for him to dump her

user30 honestly, if he cheats on her on a roadie… would anyone really be upset?

user52 i know i wouldn’t! i think all of us are just praying on their downfall. like, he could do so much better

***

my eyes sting, locked to my phone screen. my hearing is muffled, drowning out the sound of my boyfriend and his best friend just feet away from me.

they sit on the coffee table in front of me, NHL 23 displayed on the tv. they shout curses at each other and the tv, trying their hardest to win for their respective teams on the video game. but my focus is solely on the comments of my most recent instagram post.

all i wanted to do was show off my boyfriend of five years. but his fans were being so mean.

it was nothing new. these comments happened on nearly every post i made. whether they were insulting my looks, or saying Alex deserved better, i could never please them.

usually, i only let myself look at the comments for a moment before deleting them altogether, but today was already a hard mental health day and these comments were hitting me where it hurts. i can’t help but dwell on them longer than usual. today they took my worst fear, and used it as a ‘what if?’ scenario, one of the meanest things they’ve ever done.

i sniffle, standing from the couch. shuffling quickly past my boyfriend, my head hanging low to try and hide my tears as i make my way to our bedroom, shutting myself in the darkened room, the only light being that of the setting california sun peeking through the curtains on the windows.

i crawl up our bed, burrowing myself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, and turn my phone back on, scrolling through the comments once more. this time, i let my tears flow freely, silent sobs racking my body.

all the comments on my body, my insecurities and flaws, my relationship, even some accusing me of cheating on Alex with our friends. it’s one blow after another, each one cutting deeper than the last.

a loud cry escapes my lips and i clap a hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut and holding my breath; praying to whatever higher power that Alex and Trevor didn’t overhear me from the living room.

my prayers go unanswered when our bedroom door creaks open, the light switch being flipped on, and two sets of footsteps enter the bedroom.

“hey, sweet girl.” i bury my head deeper under the blanket at the sound of my boyfriend’s voice. “you wanna show me that pretty face?”

his gentle tone brings even more tears to my eyes and despite knowing he can’t see me, i shake my head.

“y/n? are you okay?” Trevor asks softly. i feel them both sit on the bed as i hum out a ‘mhm’.

“you sure?” Trevor questions.

“why won’t you let us see you, then?” Alex asks. a hand finds my back, rubbing it soothingly, and the soft touch causes me to let out another cry. i hear some muffled whispering before someone rises from the bed.

“i’m gonna leave you guys to talk, i’ll see you tomorrow.” Trevor announces. “y/n, if you need me, just call and i’ll come right over.”

i hear his footsteps retreating, the bedroom door falling shut behind him before my boyfriend’s hand leaves my back, coming up on the blankets and pulling it down to reveal my tear stained face.

“hey, what wrong, baby?” his eyes are filled with worry, concern dripping from his words like honey. “why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“i’m fine.” i choke and he obviously sees straight through my lie.

“if you were fine, you wouldn’t be crying.” he shifts his body, moving to lay down next to me on the bed. his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in close, and on instinct, i throw my thigh over his abdomen. his hand comes up to play with my hair, the tips of his fingers scratching my scalp in a calming manner.

“you wanna tell me what’s got my girl so upset?” he questions. he knows he has me in the palm of his hand. he knows exactly what to do to ease my mind and make me feel safe.

“comments.” i whisper into his chest, muttered by lips against his shirt.

“hmm?” he hums. my eyes flicker up to see his brows pulled down in confusion.

“instagram comments.” i clarify, sniffling and wiping at my nose with my hand. “some of your fans aren’t very nice.”

“wait what?” he asks. his hands pause their actions and he pulls my face back to look me in the eyes. “what are you talking about?”

“i didn’t wanna say anything. you love your fans and some of them are so sweet.” i sigh.

his expression is one of betrayal and disappointment. this is exactly why i kept this all from him. he loves his fans so much, i know he would never want to hear that some of them are so cruel.

“y/n, what are they saying?”

“just mean things. things i’d rather not repeat.” i unlock my phone, the screen still on the hate comments of my latest post, and hand it to him, letting him see them for himself.

“what the fuck?” he murmurs to himself. “why have i never seen these?”

“i usually delete them right away.” i confess. “i never wanted you to see them.”

“baby, you should’ve told me about these. these are cruel.” he scrolls through the comments, deleting every comment that isn’t necessarily considered nice.

“i know, but your fans make you so happy. i never wanted to take that from you.” i cry, burying my face in his chest.

“but you make me happier.” his hand rests on my head, the other rubbing my back. “you make me so much happier than they ever could.”

“it just hurts. it didn’t used to hurt this much, but after so long, the comments are getting to me.” i sob. “i just wanna feel okay again.”

“hey, you know nothing they said is true, right? you’re beautiful, and sweet, and the best thing to ever happen to me. you’re the smartest, most thoughtful, kindhearted, loving girl i’ve ever met. and i would never do anything to jeopardize what we have. i would never even think about even entertaining the idea of sleeping with anyone on a roadie, you know that, don’t you?”

i nod my head, sniffling. i raise my head to look at him, his eyes glassy as he wipes my tears.

“i love them, but i love you so much more. and they’re clearly not fans of mine if they think it’s okay to say shit like this about you, let alone to you.”

my insecurities get the best of me and i can’t help but question.

“you’re sure you’re not sick of me?” i whisper.

“you ever looked in my nightstand?” he asks, my eyebrows furrow in confusion and i shake my head.

“not recently, no.” i don’t understand his question, or what it has to do with mine.

he pushes me off of him, my heart sinking in my chest.

this is it.

he’s decided we’re done.

i don’t know what i’ll do without him.

he leans over his side of the bed, shuffling around in his nightstand drawer for a moment before turning back to me, something clasped in his hand.

“i had a more romantic plan, i swear i did. i had a whole speech planned, but my mom said that i should do this when it feels right. and now feels right.”

my eyes widen, my breath going shaky as i consider what he could possibly be meaning in this moment.

i sit up quickly in the bed, as he reveals a black ring box in his hands, opening it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.

my hands rise shakily to my parted lips, more tears gathering in my eyes as they flicker between him and the ring.

“you asked if i’m sure, and i hope that this ring shows you that i’m absolutely positive. i can’t imagine a life without you. i can’t imagine what my life would’ve been like if you hadn’t called me a ‘stupid waste-of-a-pretty-face hockey player’ when we were sixteen.”

“all you got from that was ‘pretty’.” i let out a choked laugh through my tears.

“and i’m so glad i did, because that one word was all it took for me to fall to my knees. to chase after you and annoy you for an entire year until you agreed to go out with me. and now i never want to live a life without you.

“you’re my biggest supporter, my favorite person in the world, and the only girl i ever want. i love your kind soul, and the way your smile brightens my day. i love your beautiful eyes and the way you laugh over my dumbest jokes. i love that you fought for us to stay together, even when i wasn’t sure if we would work after i was drafted. i love that you dance in the kitchen when you cook, and the way you romanticize every part of our every day lives. i love that you refuse to go to bed angry, and that you sing in the shower and make me duet you. i love you, for everything you are, and everything you will be. and i would love to spend the rest of our lives together, if you’ll marry me.”

i can’t even get a response past my lips, opting to tackle him instead, nearly knocking us off the bed. but Alex’s quick thinking saves the moment, swaying us sideways instead to land on our sides on the mattress.

i straddle his waist, knocking him on his back as my lips glide along his face, peppering kisses on his cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, anywhere i can reach, before settling on his lips.

i pour all of my emotions into this kiss, filled with love and happiness, joy and affection. i suckle his bottom lip as i pull back to look into his eyes, a large grin taking up the bottom half of my face.

“is that a yes?” he chuckles, a hand resting on my lower back, the other still gripping the ring box.

“that’s a yes.” i nod excessively, holding my left hand out for him. he smiles widely, making quick work of removing the engagement ring from the box and sliding it onto my finger.

“i love you so much.” i tell him, grasping his face in my hands as i lower my lips to his once more.

***

y/nonthegram

liked by _alexturcotte, jackhughes, and 11,759 others

y/nonthegram i said yes <3

tagged _alexturcotte

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jackhughes HE DID IT?! WITHOUT US?! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PLAN?!

y/nonthegram plan?

jackhughes i mean.. i’m so happy for you guys! i knew you guys were meant for each other!

y/nonthegram thank you rowdy!

_alexturcotte thanks bro!

trevorzegras HELL YEAH BRO! LOCK HER DOWN! SO HAPPY FOR YOU LOVEBIRDS!

y/nonthegram thanks Z! celebration lunch tomorrow?

trevorzegras just txt me the deets, doll!

_alexturcotte thanks bro, and thanks for keeping the secret, even though you usually have loose lips

trevorzegras @/_alexturcotte i resent that

colecaufield MY BEST FRIENDS ARE GETTING MARRIED!! CONGRATS YOU GUYS 🍾🎉🥳🥂💍

y/nonthegram thank you coley! 😙🤍

_alexturcotte thank you cole!

_quinnhughes when did you grow up? stop growing up! i’m happy for you two, but jeez y/n, i could’ve sworn you were still fourteen and stalking practices yesterday!

y/nonthegram hey! i never stalked practices! i simply liked to observe the sport!

y/nonthegram but thank you quinny 🤍 you’ll be my man of honor, right?

_quinnhughes it would be my pleasure, y/n/n

jackhughes hey! why is QUINN your man of honor and not me?!

y/nonthegram because if it’s you then you’re gonna wear a dress. you wanna be man of honor?

jackhughes ya know what? i’ll let Quinn be your man of honor. you’ve known him longest, so it’s only fair.

y/nonthegram that’s what i thought

lhughes_06 congratulations guys!! engagement party at the lake house?!

y/nonthegram engagement party at the lake house!

[ladytauria]

@ragnarokhound asked: 🎃👻 Trick or treat!! 🍫🍬🍭

hehe hi fenris!!

you may have seen me answer this & then found it deleted—i accidentally clicked post while clearing away a notification. the joys of mobile Tumblr, lmao.

anyway!

for you... i am going to talk about my selkieljason wip! (as a warning, this is basically a summary of every detail i have for this fic so… if you don’t want spoilers for a hypothetical story that may never end up fully written, don’t click!)

it's a #+1 fic—i havent decided if it's going to be 3, 4, or 5 haha. the summary is:

X times Tim could have stolen Jason's coat but didn't, and 1 time Jason wrapped him in it.

It's an urban fantasy AU where non-humans are known about but either a) not common or b) still don't really show their faces much. There are a lot of stereotypes & untrue beliefs about the various non-humans, as well as conflicting myths & such. Most of them prefer not to deal with having to educate humans and either live among them secretly or have their own separate communities—or both.

Jason is a selkie, of course; Gotham has a small selkie community but they prefer to stay relatively secretive. Still, there’s a common phrase you hear among the folk of Gotham:

“You want an obedient spouse? Catch yourself a selkie wife.”

As such, Jason keeps his true nature tucked tight to his chest. He also can’t bear to be parted with his coat. It NEEDS to be within his sight at all times—nowhere else is safe enough. Luckily for him, the magic of a selkie’s pelt allows it to change forms as he wants/needs it to. It’s been a red hoodie, a school blazer, a yellow cape, and most recently, a brown leather jacket.

The bats are all aware that Jason is a selkie. Jason trusted Bruce enough to tell him after about six months to a year of living with him, and that knowledge spread to Alfred and Dick and later to Tim and Damian. (In this AU, the Robin uniform in Bruce’s case has no cape.)

I am picturing this happening while Tim and Jason are tentatively something. They start out as fwb with feelings. Both of them knowing the other has feelings but less sure of their own, if they can really be the person the other wants or needs.

There is also still definitely some friction between them. Since it’s Jason’s POV a lot of that friction is focused on whether or not Tim can live with the way he handles his cases as well as his distance from the other bats. But there’s also likely some concerns about whether or not Jason can live with Tim’s quirks, haha.

Anyway. Outside of their relationship they also work together a lot, because they genuinely do work very well as a team. They compensate for each other’s weaknesses and boost each other’s strengths—and these days, there’s a mutual respect, now that Tim is better at understanding Jason.

But they still have issues there, too.

Each of the five incidents involve them fighting or disagreeing. I also want to show them steadily taking steps in their relationship, as well; growing from fwb to more of a couple haha. But each of therese incidents/cicrcumstances involve Tim handling Jason’s coat while he’s vulnerable.

Each time, Jason wakes up fearing that Tim will have taken his coat and hidden it. Tim may not want a selkie groom—he can think of a lot of bad things about Tim, but never that he would coerce Jason into any kind of relationship—but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want Jason’s obedience. His cooperation.

Each time, though, Jason’s coat is either safe in his sight or touching him.

The last incident is definitely the worst and the one Jason thinks that Tim will break up with him over, even if he doesn’t take the coat, but instead—

Instead he doesn’t.

It cements Jason’s trust in Tim. That he can trust him not to take advantage of what he is no matter how bad their fights get or how angry Tim is with him. And he wants to show Tim that. That he knows it, that he loves him, so—

He does it the only way he knows how:

He wraps Tim in his coat and kisses him.

Which brings us to the only proper scene I have written for this fic:

Jason runs his thumb over his coat, the leather of its disguise buttery soft, and watches Tim. He’s utterly at ease on Jason’s couch, scrolling through his phone, one arm dangling off the armrest. Jason swallows, stomach twisting with nerves. He takes a breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth. Then, he strides forward, clenching his coat a bit tighter.

He kneels in front of Tim, capturing his attention. His phone falls to the side as Tim’s brows furrow. Before he can ask what Jason is doing, Jason unfurls his coat, wrapping it around Tim’s shoulders.

His eyes grow wide. “Ja— wh—“

Jason can feel the heat on his face. Knows he has to be pink, at the very least. But he doesn’t stop, tugging Tim forward and into the briefest, chastest kiss before resting their foreheads together.

“Caught you,” he murmurs.

The smile he receives is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

[goldennymphh]

“I love you.” “Do you?”

Mother Miranda x F! Reader

Both characters are over 18.

I may make a second part to this.

Words : 1k

depictions of mental and physical abuse. These two are NOT good for each other. I am not romanticizing this relationship. Please understand that.

Grief of a child loss will be depicted.

If you go through something similar with anything in the story. Please do not wait and seek help. It’s better to speak up, than to not.

National Domestic Violence Hotline :

800 - 799 -7233

They used to love each other, before all of it happened. Before the disease slowly crept into the blonde woman’s heart. Now every day was like eggshells. It was even worse than when they had to hide their relationship. You had been with her since the beginning, since before even Eva. You were that child’s godmother, and the perfect secret lover of Miranda.

Then Eva’s death came with the plague. You had not been infected but Miranda had, not with the sickness but with another disease. Her heart growing cold and thinking of some of the worst things. You tried to calm her from her brash ways of grief. You tried to hold her and whisper sweet words but she’d fight against you most times. Thrashing in your arms as she cried and cursed this world for taking her sweet Eva. Until then she’d finally calm down and rest against you. She was a mess.

Until one day, Miranda took a walk. You were out with your respective family when she did so. And by the time you got back to her home that she shared with her husband. He had informed you that she was out walking alongside the river. With that your body seemed to back up before turning on your hill and running. As fast as you could for the grieved woman. When you found her, she was curled up in some black goo. Your hands moving to uncover the woman from its grasp. It seemed to want to fight against you and engulf her whole but you refused. Eventually Miraanda was managed to pull out. You had barely taken a time to look up and see the thing right in front of you.

With the medical experience from your family lineage. You seemed to make sure she was.. okay. And before long she awoke. But she was spouting all this nonsense on how it would save them. How it could bring Eva back. None of it made sense and you tried to calm her down to speak normally but she was pulling herself to her feet much to your dismay. But she soon pulled you along.

After that day, many things changed in such a short time. Miranda’s husband seemingly went missing. He was a sweet guy but a bit dense. Miranda seemed tense and even more upset after his disappearance. You’d often find her muttering things on how ‘it didn’t work’ and she’d ‘have to try with another.’

Then with that led a new religion. As you watched from the sidelines, your lover collected a cult like religion. To the black god, it always struck you weird for a village who was always so into Christianity even to the point of kicking people out. Now they followed something that seemed heretical.

Any worried you’d bring up, Miranda would always quiet you with either over speaking you or more physically means. It felt odd but never able to tell her no, you let it. But beyond that, she was attentive when she could be. The relationship you two held was still a focus of hers. Most nights as you laid together, you’d find her feeling your stomach. As if mapping it out.

The soft question of, ‘what are you doing.’ Would be brushed off into the dead of night. Her hand moving back up to hold yours. This brought up a chain reaction of many other odd situations.

She didn’t care for you to be around other people unless she deemed them ‘safe.’ Which was rarely anything. One time you had spoke to a local botanist about some help with flowers, and when she saw you it was clear she was upset. She was quick to trying to make you explain it to her once you two got behind the comfort of the home you now shared. Yet no matter how many times you’d say nothing came out of it, she refused.

She’d slowly pull you away from your family, and before long they also started to come up missing. With the exception of those who had young kids. But your mother and father were said to have walked into the forest and never returned. Many gossiped about this but just claimed that maybe the wolves got their dinner that night.

She’d sit there and comfort your cries once you had learned of your families demise a few years later. She comfort you and run her fingers through you hair as if she had not done any wrong. As if she did not know of the bodies in her basement. Yet you did not need to know of that. After all you were one of the more important things of life.

But as time passed on, things just got worse. Being secluded in such a way as she kept you to herself. Possessive and cold is how you could once describe the woman you used to love. Yet it was hard to leave her, she was still Miranda. The woman who used to sneak around everyone's back with you when you two were younger. Knowing if you two got found out, things would be bad for each other. Yet now here you were, laid in the home that once used to be so warm. Your body resting against the bed as she walked in, clearly upset. Unsure if you should move and help her get unready from the day, or if she would snap at you.

Hesitating for a moment before you pulled the cover off. Body slipping out of bed to make your way over to her to help with those weird robes she always wore. But as you went to offer your help, your hands were suddenly grasped tightly as your eyes looked up into her cold gaze. She then shoved you off of her, your body stumbling back a bit hitting the corner of a nearby dresser. She turned away with a scoff, ignoring the way you winced at the pain in your side - a bruise most likely growing on your skin. Why should she care anyways? Useless.

[frozenjokes]

convex talking to each other arc. not a good talk. not like the worst talk they could have managed though.

ao3 link

LOOP 16

Scar was.. he was fine. He was fine. Adjusting a little, but he was fine. It seemed like he never stopped adjusting, never stopped feeling utterly devoid. He wanted so much, but these days he just kept his claws buried in the sheets. Sometimes he’d groom the blankets. It wasn’t a nice thing. He had a better time pulling out tufts of his own fur. Cleo was kind enough not to say anything when she caught him at it.

The food situation was a big adjustment, one Scar couldn’t stop feeling terribly anxious about. It didn’t matter if they had enough, it didn’t matter if Scar ate half a day’s rations under the human standard, eating was a petrifying ordeal, one he worked himself up so much over that he was hardly hungry anymore. Anxiety made him sick, and desperately he wished he could starve instead, watch the humans and take comfort from their health. The longer the loop drew on, the more anxious Scar became, face to face with the possibility this would be the one that would last, the one where they could run out.

He tried. He tried so hard. This was one of Cub and Cleo’s terms, Scar had to eat, to leave them alone, but it was so much harder than he was certain he could manage. He only felt okay eating the leftovers, which he still could not allow them to throw away. That was normal. That was safe. It was a great relief they allowed him this at the very least.

Scar tried to avoid Cub for the most part. Partially an attempted gesture of respect; Scar really did want to let him have his space, but partially, much more so, Scar was just afraid. He found Cub impossibly difficult to read; humans in general were expressive in entirely different ways than catfolk were, but while Cleo at least emoted with their face, Cub didn’t seem to express anything in any way at all. With no ears, tail, or bristling fur, how was Scar supposed to tell if Cub was playing around or serious? Cleo could tell what he was feeling, apparently, but Scar was not her!

Though, some days Scar doubted if Cleo really could tell or not. The past few loops passed in relative quiet, days Scar would describe as more friendly than not, but as this loop started to find its bearings, both humans had gotten more and more irritated with each other. They had always been mean, always combative, and Scar had found himself desperately trying to keep some sort of peace in the past loops, biting one or the other when things went too far, but these days he was afraid to intervene, and if Scar didn’t make himself known, he was never paid any mind.

Scar hated it. He hated how they went out of their way to rile each other up, piss each other off, painfully trying to bait the other into snapping at their throat just so they could fire off the nasty comment they’d thought up while unable to fall asleep. There had yet to be a physical fight in this loop, and violence of that kind was a rarity in general, but after Cub had exploded on Scar, physically violent fights like that were all Scar could think about.

It was not uncommon for Scar to spend his nights worrying as well, fidgety and overgrooming when sleep failed to take him.

There was one night, just him and Cleo in bed, where Scar was horribly anxious, snuggled close, but it wasn’t enough. Everything was too quiet, too cold, not enough people, not enough bodies, they were going to starve, die, and no one would believe him. Cleo had been long asleep, not conscious enough to feel his shallow, panicked breaths.

Cub moved to sit and Scar jolted up so violently he was shocked Cleo wasn’t stirred awake. The two of them stared at each other for a while in the dark, quiet, near silent in that terrible sort of way.

“Are you fine?” Cub had a way of asking that made it clear he did not care. That was Scar’s impression, anyway. He moved to turn on his mic.

“Did I wake you?” Scar muttered, unwilling to shelve his bitterness tonight. He had a lot of reasons to be sad, and plenty more to be angry, but tonight he had little patience for enemies.

“Yes.” A short silence followed the word, distinctly awkward, like Cub was not used to carrying a conversation unless he was playing the role of Insufferable Prick. “Not the mic this time,” Cub amended, as if Scar did not know his two hour panic attack was the source of the disruption. “Thanks for turning it off.” Scar let the quiet linger, decidedly uncaring about how awkward this was for Cub. If he didn’t want to be treated like a child, fine. Scar would take him as he was; foul. Cleo was mean, but at least she had a soul.

Cub was quiet, but Scar’s refusal was more suffocating, so Cub was forced to speak. “Are you upset with me?”

“I feel quite a lot about you, and none of it is good.”

“Hm,” Cub said, nodding, like this made complete sense. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

“Mhm.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I do. I’m unpleasant most days.” Before Scar could refute him, he continued, “More than unpleasant more days than most. I know it. Cleo knows it. You stopped pretending you didn’t know it, so here we are.”

“I wasn’t-“ Scar cut himself off with a small growl, not wanting to wake Cleo.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Cub cut in before Scar could continue his denial, also quieter, like he too was reminded of their sleeping companion. “I mean it literally. You called me a child so you could stand to like me, isn’t that true?”

Scar lowered his head, resigned. “Easier to forgive children.”

“I can sympathize with that. To a point. You found that line.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Why?”

Scar’s whiskers twitched, somewhat incredulous, “What do you mean, why? I hurt you. I did it until you felt trapped enough to attack me, that’s why.”

“Oh,” Cub said, dumbly, “I’m not very nice.”

“You’re not.” Scar huffed, irritation building.

Quiet found the both of them once more, though Scar was not grasping for anything to say. He had nothing for Cub. If Cub had anything for him, he didn’t want it. That didn’t stop Cub from speaking regardless.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I won’t be sorry to you, and I won’t be good, either, so it’s a waste of energy to care.”

“Con grat- ulations. I’m glad your feelings are so easily suppressed, but it doesn’t matter how much of a dick you are, I’ll still feel bad for hurting you, and I’ll still feel sorry. I know you and Cleo have given up niceties, but I can’t. I can’t just be fine with it. Fighting and yelling and shooting each other. I can’t live like that.” Scar ended his sentiment with a snort, burying his chin back on Cleo’s stomach. Her breathing was a small comfort. He was ready to go to sleep now, and was drifting by the time Cub finally responded, pulling him back.

“I am very tired a lot of the time. It takes a certain amount of effort to be civil, an effort I haven’t put forward in a long, long time, and after I got sick.. forget it. It matters very little what I do, Scar. I can be nice, but they know what I am. They know I’m different, it’s unsettling, just little things that set people off, that catch their eye, and whether or not I put forth the effort, I will not find community. I’ve lived enough life to know it, and I would like to tell you that it does not bother me, but I would not be telling the truth. So I stop caring. I take my life into my own hands. I control myself, and what people choose to do with that man is their own business. But people can’t hurt you if you don’t put yourself out there in the first place, only you can hurt you, and that’s how I ended up here, sick and more tired than I was before. I’ve forgotten how to try in the first place, and I am not motivated enough to relearn it. I only have five more years to live. Very little point. Cleo feels similarly.”

“That’s not what she told me.”

Cub’s world seemed to stop spinning.

He straightened, at full attention, eyes fuller than Scar had ever seen on him. “What? What did they say to you?” Scar considered Cub, considered the attention, the emotion in his voice that he couldn’t quite place. ‘So I stop caring.’ If that was really a human ability, Scar did not think Cub possessed it.

“Some loops ago, a while by now. She shot you for something you’d said and regretted it. She thinks she’s worse to you than you are to her-“

“She’s not.”

“It doesn’t matter who is or isn’t more of an asshole,” Scar cut back in, tail thumping against the bed, “I told them I don’t like when you guys get like that. I don’t. I really don’t like it. They told me they don’t like it either. They don’t like acting that way, being mad at you, and I don’t have to guess to know they don’t like all the flack you throw at every opportunity that presents itself. I doubt you like it when she does the same to you, no matter what you say about not caring. And I hate it!”

“Quiet,” Cub hissed, in panic more than anger, “You’re going to wake her.”

“Maybe I should. They can tell you themself.”

“No.” The breath was short, terrified. Then slowly, solemnly, Cub’s stiff posture slackened, and he laid back down, resigned. He was quiet a long many moments, and maybe Cub sensed Scar was staring him down in the dark, because he shifted positions, turning away. “Nothing to be done,” he mumbled.

Scar could have killed him for that. Again, he found himself shaking, overcome by his previous anxieties, new anger, and an all encompassing, crushing homesickness.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate it here, I hate it, I can’t do this- I can’t live like this, I just want to go home. I don’t- I won’t have anything to bring back with me, I’ll have to face them with nothing, and still it’s better than being here.” Scar turned off his mic. Cub didn’t need to hear his sniffling in high definition, he didn’t care afterall, there was nothing to be done. He wanted Cleo. He wanted Mumbo. He wanted his mom, what he’d give to be held by her one last time, to never take that touch for granted, that love, deep and unconditional in a world where the conditions everywhere else were impossibly high, where he’d never be enough to Try for.

He had to get up. He had to get out of here. He had to find the place he and Mumbo had blown a hole in the side of the ship, Mumbo was still there, Mumbo was waiting for him, and Scar had to get back before it was too late.

“Scar, where are you going?”

Scar did not answer him. Dutifully, he exited the safe room through the right door, the one that would lead him back to the destroyed wall. They called it ‘Scar’s room’ now, the humans did. His room. The place he’d broken in, the place he fell flat on his face after every reset. Funny, that was. Ironic, almost. He was always falling short, wasn’t he.

Scar found the place where the hole should have been; it was easy to find, perfectly easy, this was exactly where he stood on each reset afterall. Pathetically, he collapsed against the wall, sliding to sit as close to home as he could ever be in this place. He cried to it, like a kitten to a closed door. It was closed, wasn’t it? It wouldn’t open for him again, and still he sat, head thunked against the unyielding cold. He just wanted to go home.

The left door opened, and Scar did not hear it. Something approached, and with his face pressed against the wall, Scar did not see it. A hand touched his shoulder, and as he’d always responded: fight, he whirled around in adrenaline fueled terror, claws raking through the stomach and legs of his attacker.

Cub stumbled back with a yelp and fell on his ass, arms shaking slightly with the effort of holding himself up at an awkward angle. For a moment Cub stared dumbly, shirt, pants, and skin newly torn, and Scar fixed him with a snarling glare before pushing his muzzle back into the wall. If Cub wanted to watch him cry, then let him. If Cub felt bad, then Scar hoped he’d feel worse.

Cub did not speak, so it was easy to pretend he was not there. Moderately easy at least. Occasionally Cub would shuffle around, Scar’s ear would swivel toward the noise, and Cub would cease, stilling for as many minutes as he deemed necessary for it to be safe to move again. This cycle repeated several times until Scar’s fur prickled at the sense of closeness, not good or bad, just there, and again Cub stilled, like even a deep enough breath would shatter Scar, or more likely, set him off, leaving one dead and very maimed Cub behind. The more Scar thought about it, the more he was sure it was the latter, Cub seeing just how far he could push it before Scar gave in to Cub and Cleo’s game of scream, fight, kill.

Something wet touched the back of Scar’s neck, so unexpected and utterly disconcerting that all the hair at his shoulders stood on end as the Dampness was drawn upward, along with the presence of a face. It withdrew.

Stiffly, Scar turned around, horror fighting with confusion and the residual sadness. He sniffled, struggling to turn his microphone back on.

“Did- Did you-“ Scar broke off, grappling with his hoarse throat, “-fucking- just lick me?”

Cub stared back blankly, tongue poking through his lips. “I thought. That was what I had to do. I had to do it.” Equally deadpan, he continued, “Are you better now.”

Scar gaped at him, and when the wires in his brain reconnected, he threw up his arms, “No!”

“Why not.”

“Why- It’s so- Yours is so wet!”

“Is your mouth not wet. I can answer that. It is wet. I know because you used to lick me constantly. Why do you have such a problem, this is how cats fix each other. I did it.”

“You haven’t done anything.”

“I did. I licked you.”

Scar huffed, deflating. “I guess you did, huh.”

“I did.” Cub preened, Scar snorting a short growl in turn, pushing back into the wall. Briefly, he nibbled on one of his paws, ruffling the area behind his neck where he had been violated.

“Don’t do it again.” Cub did not, but he didn’t move, either, he just sat there, close enough for Scar to feel his presence, to feel his eyes boring into the back of Scar’s head. His ear pinned, but still Cub did not move. “Don’t you have everywhere else you could be right now?” Scar hissed, but as far as he could tell, Cub did not react.

“Would you rather be scratched?”

…

………

“..yes.”

Scar did not say anything else, nor did he need to, Cub starting with the heavy hitters; reaching over his head to get at his forehead, gentle at first near the bridge of his nose, then hard near the top of his head, fucking hell, it was just right, scratching like he was trying to pull Scar’s skin right off, the only way to do it. Scar just about died when Cub worked behind his ear, it was so unfair how effortlessly good he was at this, forget dying, Scar was going straight to heaven when Cub began to massage his scruff.

“I still. Don’t like you.” Scar had to reiterate, just to make sure.

Cub shrugged. “I’ve never been particularly fond of cats. I guess you’re alright.” Scar didn’t bother responding, but apparently Cub wasn’t done, the quiet only lingering a short while before he broke it. “Did you get sick when you were alone? After you ate me.”

Scar was momentarily pulled from his Good Scritches induced daze, confusion twitching his whiskers. “I.. Got sick. Not from you though. Cleo.”

Cub stopped for a moment; speaking, scratching, all of it. “You ate Cleo?” he sounded genuinely stunned, maybe even hurt if the idea wasn’t completely ridiculous.

“A little bit. I stopped after I got sick.”

“Did you throw up?”

Scar’s ear pinned, nose wrinkling distastefully, “At the beginning, yes.”

“What color?”

“I don’t know,” Scar snorted, shaking out his fur, “Dark. I wasn’t studying it. Probably looked a lot like raw meat and other disgusting shit, what’s your problem?”

“Did it look like stars?”

Scar had to turn around to stare, judgment written in every crease of his sour expression. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“I was just wondering.”

“Does your puke have stars in it?”

“Not literally, but yeah, kinda. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten sick like that, but if I did it would have stars. I bet it’d look a lot worse than yours.” Cub paused, seeming to reconsider. “No, actually raw human meat puke is about as bad as it gets.”

“I hate humans. You guys are terrible.”

“Oh, it’s not a human thing. It’s a sculk thing. That’s why I was wondering. I can’t think eating Cleo is much better than eating me, at least, I probably wouldn’t want to eat Cleo with the whole being dead thing. I mean. I guess she wasn’t dead for very long. But depending on whether or not you think she’s really alive or just an animated corpse, it’s.. questionable. I wouldn’t eat them. Objectively though, eating me just isn’t a good idea. I’d bet a lot of money I was probably the one that made you sick unless you got food poisoning, which, still could have been me. I guess I don’t really know anything besides the fact that you threw up.”

“You- You think I got infected?”

Cub stared blankly. “Yep. Well. Maybe. Most likely. I mean, you ate me. That would do it. Sculk’s not very motivated to go anywhere right now, but if you let it in.. I mean, Cleo’s gotten sick once or twice also, it’s not a big deal. I was just curious.”

“Cleo- Cleo ate you?”

Cub pursed his lips, looking no less mild. “..No.”

“But I- I don’t understand. I didn’t- If I see anything sketchy I don’t eat it-”

Cub snorted. “Doesn’t matter for me, bud. I’m sick all over. Don’t let that stop you though. Well. Maybe you should refrain for this loop, this layout is looking pretty good. But otherwise, it takes a couple days to actually get you sick. If you’re looking for a good time with me, these next years are the best hypothetical times to do it. I know we won’t be seeing each other after this, but I guess I just mean you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m sure you’ll be pumped full of every weed killer Earth has at its disposal and won’t be let go until they’re 100% sure you’re clean, so no need to be concerned about bringing anything home.”

Scar had not been all too concerned about bringing sculk home before this, but he certainly was now. Cleo had told him the infection could spread through consumption as well; how had this never occurred to him? He’d known he hadn’t gotten food poisoning.. He stopped eating Cleo just to be safe, but getting sick from food was far more unpleasant, he’d figured he just caught some human disease.

But he’d gotten better, hadn’t he? He wasn’t seriously ill for more than a week. Cleo had said it was pretty obvious if you had sculk sickness; you could see it in your skin, but Scar hadn’t really noticed anything.. then again, he had a coat of fur to hide it. He didn’t remember anything wrong with his waste, but he didn’t spend a lot of time staring at his piss and shit, maybe humans did!

“I don’t think I got your sickness.”

“No?” Cub looked amused, which Scar responded to with a show of teeth and a growl.

“No. I didn’t stay sick. Just got a human bug, then I was fine for weeks.” Scar let his sneer fall when Cub’s sly smile fell to something more attentive.

“Really? Often you become ill for a bit while your body tries to kill the external threat, then things calm down. For a little bit at least, but again, the sculk knows it’s trapped up here, it isn’t in any rush.” Scar valiantly ignored the implications of that, easier when Cub continued, “No symptoms of any kind of sickness afterward? Weakness, aching, a kinda odd internal tingling? Almost like your blood itches, did you feel any of that?”

Scar shrugged, though he was uncertain more than anything. “I don’t think so. Health wise, I don’t think I’ve ever been better. Might’ve been the first time in my whole life I haven’t felt weak and kinda- achey, as you put it.”

“Really?” Cub said, like he’d never heard anything more fascinating. “Well the sculk didn’t do that to you, that’s for certain.”

“I know it wasn’t the sculk.” Scar snapped, but Cub didn’t flinch, still thoughtful.

“Life’s not so easy back home, is it.”

Scar frowned, ear curving back. No, it wasn’t. He didn’t want to talk about it, he never wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t really have the energy to refute it anymore either. He didn’t have to say it outright for the humans to know. His behavior painted a clear enough picture of his past. Cub did not push. He did not have to, Scar spoke freely.

“You do what you can for the kids. They do what they can for their kids if they can even bear to have them. I’m not bringing anyone into the world, that’s for certain. I don’t think- How could you ask a little one to eat when they know you won’t? Kids aren’t stupid, you know. They go and cannibalize each other to cope with it. I have bad genes. I can’t subject anyone else to that.”

Cub stared so blankly at him that Scar was certain he wasn’t going to say anything at all. “That’s fucked.”

“It’s how it is.”

“You really think if you have a kid the other toddlers will eat him? That’s crazy. Do you guys just eat each other all the time?”

“Wh- What- No, you- Where did you- No!”

Cub raised his hands meekly. “I misunderstood. Catfolk do not eat each other.”

“Well- No, we eat the dead. But not anyone still alive, for goodness’ sakes! I have to hope humans aren’t eating each other alive, either!”

“You eat your dead? God damn.”

“You don’t? What- What do you do with them!?”

“Uh, bury them, usually. Well, actually most people get cremated. Loved ones spread the ashes in their favorite places, rituals like that. Cannibalism is very frowned upon, we do not eat each other. Big social taboo.”

“That’s- What a waste!”

Cub laughed, “That’s what I’m saying! I’m not saying that.”

“Clearly you’re not all that fussed about it.”

“I am not considered normal by most human standards. Normal, likable, pleasant in any capacity; they hate me because I’m a threat to the system, Scar. And the crime. They also hate me for the crime, which is fair, I think that’s fair. But so what if I’m a little bit of a freak, that’s my own business.” The way Cub said it suggested he reveled in the idea of making it everyone else’s business, but Scar wasn’t about to say that.

“That’s great,” he said instead, turning back around to let his head thunk back against the wall. As weird and not-quite-unpleasant as this little conversation was, Scar was ready to go back to moping. Astutely, Cub seemed to understand the conversation was over, though he didn’t leave like Scar wished he would. Instead, Cub returned to scratching around his head and shoulders, which Scar begrudgingly accepted. If Cub insisted on being here, he may as well make himself useful. Scar made sure not to look too pleased about it.

“You know,” Cub started speaking, which was a significant downgrade to the silence, though Scar had not yet decided if the unpleasantness of Cub talking to him outweighed the scritchy scratches, “I am learning things about myself tonight, which I hate doing. I’m pretty good at convincing myself I’m all figured out, that there’s never any reason to change, right? But I’m starting to think I might be a bit of a pussy baby. Like a little bit. Not 100% pussy baby status, but y’know. Not as justified as I’d like to be.”

Scar snorted, saying nothing else. Cub didn’t seem to mind.

“I did not come here to apologize to you, I don’t really care about you. I didn’t like upsetting you, not because I’m particularly invested in your well-being, but because it was annoying that you were saying things to me that I didn’t like, and doubling down on those things that I didn’t like kinda pissed me off, so I had to come settle this, come over and tell you why you’re wrong. Because I’m tired. I’m sick, my skin itches under the surface and my organs are cannibalizing themselves, my eyes don’t work, and all the things that are wrong with me will always be wrong with me until I die, so I lot of the time I feel like I’ve earned the right to act however I want to, because no one really gets it, right? No one gets it, no one wants to get it in the name of my own wellbeing, and no one will respect my life for the months I have left when this is over, which, like, fine, that’s fine, I haven’t decided whether or not I’m deserving of any sort of respect.”

Maybe Cub was waiting for a reaction, but Scar didn’t care to give him one, especially because he’d stopped scratching, which was his main concern and the most annoying thing about Cub’s senseless raving.

“I thought I’d get you to understand what it’s like for me. Not so you’d pity me, fuck, but just so you would leave me alone, don’t bring up Cleo or anything else anymore, but then I told you that you’d gotten sculk sickness and you said to me you didn’t notice-”

“I did not catch your stupid alien disease!”

“There is literally no way you did not have it. Anyway, even if my chronic issues are multiplied by a hundred from the symptoms someone would experience in the beginnings of sculk sickness, it is a little unfathomable to me that you just didn’t notice. And then it occurred to me you’ve been on the verge of starving to death your entire life, and on top of that no one back home respects you, but you’re still kinda working on being a good guy, and I was like wow Cub, you’re kind of a pussy baby for throwing a fit over being asked to stop being a dick every time you breathe words-”

“I- That is not true! I am very respected! I’m a hero back home!”

“Didn’t look that way to me. Anyway-”

“Not ‘anyway’! I don’t know about you, but I am perfectly adored on my planet!”

Cub raised an eyebrow, more expressive in his doubt than Scar had ever seen from him, then continued like Scar hadn’t spoken, “Anyway. For the sake of my own self-image, a little bit for Cleo, and not at all for you, I’m willing to give Not Being A Dick All The Time a shot, but I probably won’t do a very good job, and I will not be held accountable for hurting any feelings because I don’t care. I think I can manage to bring the Prick-O-Meter down to.. 80%. That’s probably the best you’re gonna get out of me, and it might be a stretch. I don’t need to tell you I’m a natural born piece of shit, which is to say, severely emotionally stunted. That’s what Cleo says anyway. I’d tell you she’s got some emotional stunt-age going on herself, and honestly, I’ll probably tell her that too if it comes up, but now there’s a 20% chance I won’t. Unless they deserve it. Which they often do. But I can play nice. Lie, that’s a lie, I can not do that, but I can try to do that.”

“That’s.” Scar didn’t really know where to go from there, and honestly, he wasn’t sure he processed 95% of what Cub had even said to him, but. Well. Maybe it was something. Maybe Scar was too tired to comprehend it all right now. “Sure. Great. Keep scratching.”

“Yes, sir.”

Scar closed his eyes under the weight of Cub’s nails, drifting as the touch softened, soon, falling entirely to darkness. It had been a while since he’d fallen asleep like this, sitting up, nowhere near comfortable, but his eyes were so dry and his mind was entirely shot, and moving back to the safe room had not even occurred to him. Apparently it had not occurred to Cub either, the both of them draped over each other when Scar woke later, who knows when, back on fire and limbs stiff, but Cub was still asleep, and Scar did not want to rouse him. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe this reminded him of home.

[myfandomprompts]

Is there anything left for us? || Will (Salad Days) || (1/2)

Will x Reader

Warnings: nsfw, swearing, angst, mention of alcohol, smut Summary: You've been struggling with your feelings for Will for years. Then he calls you after the worst mistake of his life and you feel the world crumble around you. A/N: I'm trying something that has been going around in my mind for quite sometimes. Please see it more as an essay about Salad Days and my vision of Will. Sorry for the length... I just wanted to share my love for this short that I find very good, story wise, many included arcs so it give Will reasons and depth for his actions. It was just so good. I realise that my writing are not for everyone. In any case, part one is more to be seen as an "essay" about the character, but part 2 is more story inclined.

You missed him, but over the years, you had learned to get used to it.

Will had always been a lone wolf kind of guy, and when he disappeared like that you knew that it was because he didn't want to be bothered, or to be found. You tried to respect that at most of your capacities, to give him the space he needed to deal with whatever he had going on.

Even back in high school when you watched him from afar, the cocky guy at the back of the class with his group of troublesome friends, you could see how much he felt rejected, out of place. It was no secret that he had complicated family issues and he hated it when people brought it up. So no one dared to. Only when you befriended him during the last year of high school did you realise how complicated it truly was.

He didn't know his father, and what happened with his mum was a mystery to everyone. Ever since that time, he had lived with his grandmother and you had never seen Will care for someone as much as he cared for her. It was touching and sweet, making you wonder if his nan was the only family affection he had ever known. If he were to lose her, he would be alone.

There was that eagerness within him, the one that craved affection, the one that longed to erase this feeling of loneliness that weighed inside of him. You witnessed it with the girls he fell for every once in a while, in the fleeting relationships and obsessions he experienced with the occasional gal, and each time it ended badly, because Will was Will: wild, hot-blooded and strong-willed.

But he was the most resourceful man you've ever encountered, always finding solutions, always taking advantage of what he thought he could, and always taking the lead when needed to. You admired that in him, this raw strength smothering his weaknesses, heightening his confidence, but sometimes you feared that his habit to always act with his head down first would play to his disadvantage one day. Because where he could be shy at times, often keeping to himself when he felt he did not have the upper hand, he could also be as keen to make rash decisions, his pride and stubbornness taking the better of him. And sometimes it affected the people around him.

And that included Leah. And you.

 In high school you have always regarded Will, Matt, and Tom as the troublesome trio, so in the last year when Leah, your best friend, got close to Matt, all that was left for you to do was to follow. You became the added part of the group, doomed to see how all the boys would find Leah endearing and sweet, whereas you tried to remain unimpressed by them and wary of their actions because you were “stubborn as hell”, as Leah often put it. But the more Matt and your friend grew close over the years, the more you warmed up to them, finding them sympathetic, nice and caring. And definitely funny. And you liked to believe that they liked you as well. 

It was around that time that you came to know Will better and realise everything he was carrying on his shoulders, too heavy for him to handle for someone so young. You could see it in the way he avoided some topics in conversations, how he sometimes paced around a room without paying any mind to his friends, or how sulky he seemed to become every time you all talked about the future or how a member of your family had reacted to this or that.

It attracted you somehow, this double side of his. The strong, tall, and proud man he was versus the reserved one with anguish, hidden behind the boiling rage he displayed at times. So you opened up to him, more than to the others, your heart desperate to know his, to see if you could do anything to help him, to make him feel like he didn't need to prove anything to anyone. At first he was surprised that a girl like you, all serious and phlegmatic, would take an interest in him, but you had some humour in you and he did find you funny. Besides, you didn't take any shit from anyone, especially from the guys, and neither did Leah, shutting down each time they teased both of you or made gruesome jokes you were not very fond of. But each time, Will or Matt would stop, seeing that you were not very receptive and proceed to do something you liked, right before you would tease them back, surprising them and making them laugh as well. Your coldness toward them slowly thawed within months.

You liked to believe Will admired that in you too, how you were able to put them off this easily.

High school ended and everybody stuck around; none of you were willing to venture out and all of you had a project of your own. You knew the guys were applying for several jobs, Leah had found one in a fish and chips for a while, whereas you would take online classes and tutoring students on the side.

And as your group grew forever closer, trying for your part to see through Will as much as you could over time, slowly but surely, you were doomed to see how his eyes shifted whenever he would look at your best friend.

It was so obvious you wondered why Matt hadn't noticed it before, even back in high school. Matt and Leah had got together right after the end of the year, and you believed that only Will’s well-hidden insecurities had prevented him from going after Leah first. Or maybe he knew that his friend had liked her for a long time and chose not to interfere, you didn't know. Still, you could see how Will would look away or look too intensely when Matt and Leah were together, holding hands or kissing, and only you and Tom would joke about it. Not Will. Never Will.

More often than not, it would only be you and Will; Matt and Leah would be off together, having some alone time, and Tom would be off with his family. You would go to his place, talk with his nan, give her news about Leah and your friends, about your family, and then spend time with Will, reminiscing about high school or talking about your lives. You had a lot in common, from playing video games you both like to make fun of the dumb British celebrities on reality shows, even sometimes organising a contest of darts in his basement. You, always so confident that you would win, versus Will, being exactly the same. It always ended similarly, a tied game, as you both were equally stubborn.

When you were still at your parent’s, he would often ditch your group when you invited the whole of them but did not come, and you wondered if it was too hard for Will to be inside of a happy home, one he did not have. But you quickly abandoned this theory, because when you invited Will to come over when the rest was not around, he always came, spending whole afternoons and evenings with you, for the greatest pleasure of your little sister that adored him. And you could not blame her. At nine years old, she would always come to him and he would always joke with her and carry her around, with a blush on her cheeks, and you would watch, their laughter warming your heart.

Now that you had your own flat, he still came, but less often. You and Leah knew the guys were always hanging out together, doing who knows what, but it didn’t prevent you from missing them dearly. Recently, Matt and Leah had gone through a rough patch, and you had to admit that you had feared for their relationship more than once in the past couple of weeks. You didn’t want your friend to be miserable, and you would do what you could to prevent that.

This is why the bonfire party from three weeks ago had been a relief to you, happy to finally see all of your group together again at the rim of the forest outside of the city, perched on the hills where you could watch the stars and make as much noise as you wanted. But as the night went on and the alcohol claimed your blood, you hadn’t expected Leah and Matt to argue again in the middle of it all, and more importantly, you hadn’t expected for yourself to have an argument with him, for the first time of your life.

The words he had shot at you still rang in your ears, as yours felt like poison, something not of your own but that you have uttered nonetheless. He had come to you with worries about Leah again, about how unhappy she seemed to be, and you couldn’t help it. All you heard in his worries was his own hope that they would grow apart, and this time you had been unable to hide your jealousy, ignoring him and growling in annoyance. When he asked what was wrong with you, you only lied to him and assured him that you were fine. But he didn’t like that.

“You always fucking do that, try to pretend like nothing bothers you but it’s bullshit,” he had suddenly shouted, crushing his cigarette under his shoe. “What are you fucking afraid of exactly Y/N, hm? Maybe you should grow some and start telling me!”

You had turned around in shock, the alcohol and the weight in your heart heightening your frustration and anger.

“I’m not afraid of telling you anything! And you’re the one to talk, always hiding things, closing off to me. You hide more from me than I have ever hidden from you, don’t you dare think I don’t know that.”

You earned an annoyed from from Will, lined with guilt, his tongue running across his teeth while you waited for him to respond, to say anything.

“I get it, you don’t need to tell me anything, but don’t blame me for keeping things from you that hurts, because it does Will!” you had confessed with tears threatening to appear at the rim of your eyes. “Just… Just don’t even bother.”

And with that you had turned around toward the cars, clearly remembering the way Will’s arm had caught yours in an attempt to stop you, but you only ignored it and left the field, the party, and your friends behind.

The day after that, you learned everything from your phone call to Leah as she recounted this painful night to you in more detail, telling you how Matt had ignored her for most of the night before leaving, making her feel abandoned and alone. Then she told you that Will had been the one to come to her, to comfort her, and the knot in your stomach tightened. When you pressed a little, she shamefully confessed Will had kissed her.

You couldn’t say that you weren’t surprised, but you made a great effort not to let anything appear in your voice. She continued, telling you that she had pushed Will away as nicely as she could, that she felt awfully guilty, that Matt was all she cared about and that it all seemed like a blur to her. You tried to reassure her, telling her that it was not her fault, that it meant nothing along as apologising for not being there for her when it happened. In your upset state, you hadn’t been able to stay, and you now regretted that you hadn’t. You would make it up to her, bury those feelings that clung to your heart and tried to ignore the pain you felt for Will at his rejection. Or was it your pain? You didn’t know.

Whatever happened seemed to have awoken something within Leah because two days later she was back with Matt, stronger than ever. Now it has been three weeks, and you have started a very busy week with work, three weeks without a word from Will. When you popped by Leah’s work when you could she would tell you that she had seen the three of your friends, and you tried not to ask about Will.

Two days later, Leah called and told you that she was pregnant. You congratulated her but you heard the anguish in her voice, so you tried to sooth her as much as you could. She would be all right, you knew it.

You wondered how Will had reacted.

Then it all escalated.

One minute you were working at home, trying to focus, the next you received a text from Will, breaking these three weeks of silence between the two of you:“Can you come get me Y/N please.”

You frown, heart beating because it was him, and because it was the last message you would have expected. 

Where are you? you typed black.

Idk, somewhere near the bonfire’s place.

Memories of that night float back in your mind, anguish taking hold of you but you gathered yourself.

What are you doing there? you reply, heart beating.

I walked… just come Y/N please.

Will, what’s going on?

He didn’t answer. It was beginning to get dark outside, and you wondered what the hell he was doing, walking all the way up there. Part of you did not want to find out, but it was Will, and he never asked for anything, or very rarely. It did not matter how you felt, or how you two had left things off. All that mattered was that he was your friend and he was asking for your help.

So you shot up from your chair, grabbed your keys and left your apartment.

When you arrived in the area, having called Will three times during your drive there, unanswered, it was almost dark and you could not see very far. But like drawn to something you could not see, you found him on the first path you turned to, ahead, near the trees, not far from where you both had that argument, near a fallen log. He was on the ground, head in his knees and you tried not to feel the uneasiness overtaking you. You see him acknowledge your car as you hesitate to turn the engine off, leaving your lights on and stopping right next to him, exiting the vehicle as you carefully watch him.

“Will? What the hell? What is going on?” you call, levelling with him. “Will?”

He didn’t answer, his nose buried in his sleeve and watching the void, glancing so briefly at you. You crouch down, raising a hand to cautiously put on his shoulder. You could sense the sorrow and the anguish from where you stood, and you grew worried for your friend. You never wanted to see him like this, never. Whatever it was, you would do anything to make it okay. 

You lower your voice. “Will… talk to me.”

He meets your gaze, his blue eyes reddened by sorrow or anger. Unable to look at you more he withdraws his gaze at once, cracking under your eyes as he buries his head in his arms once more, a deep trembling sigh coming from him. You put both of your hands on his, coming closer, desperate to sooth him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

You hear him taking deep shaky breaths, steeling himself. You put your chin on his elbow that was supported by his knee, waiting for him, close enough now to notice the red marks that scorched his knuckles, the marks of a fight, something ugly, violent. What happened?

From your position you can feel how cold his hands are and you wonder how long he had been out there. You watch him through your eyelashes, breathing with him, stroking his skin with your thumb as you think fast, his hair tickling your face.

“Come on, let’s get you out of the cold,” you timidly suggest, not moving as you observe the way his chest heaves. Then he silently moves to get up and you give him space, leading him carefully to the passenger seat.

You had to swallow the worry in your throat. His gaze was less hooded, firmer, but still miles away from where you were. You open the door for him and take your place behind the wheel, watching him look miserable beside you.

“Ok, let’s get you home, then we’ll talk about this, yeah?”

You release the handbrake before he talks for the first time, his voice hoarse with his evident turmoil. “No, not there, not home. Anywhere else... Your place,” he said, and you stopped your movements, looking at him expectantly. “I just… I can’t go to her right now.”

You watched him for a moment longer before nodding silently, driving away. His cheeks were reddened by the biting cold outside and the warmth of his skin, riled up from his sorrow.

“Are you hurt?” you ask, eyes on the road.

You hear him click his tongue, shaking his head as he grabs his knuckles. “Nah…”

He takes his head in his hands again, passing his fingers in his hair before starting to rock his knee anxiously. He would do that when something was on his mind, but never with a shaking sigh.

“Why were you there?” you ask softly,taking the opportunity now that he seemed more responsive, even if it was just barely.

“I just walked… I didn’t care where. Didn’t want to be found.”

His last words were only whispered, and as you turned a corner to enter the city again, he dug himself back into the seat, putting his hood up and stilled, although his leg continued to bounce up and down.

You pulled onto your street and turned off the engine. “What happened Will…? You can talk to me. Please talk to me.”

He lowers his head, looking at the inside of his palms. You could not see his face, hidden by the hood. “I did sumethin’… I can’t take back.”

You swallow, turning to him. “Whatever it is, we’ll make it right. We’ve always handled ourselves. You and the guys always managed.”

Your words seemed to aggravate him, because he looked briefly in pain before getting out of the car, eager to get away.

When you reach your flat door without a word exchanged between you, trying to catch up with his agitated pace, he goes straight inside, going to the couch to sit in it, hood off and head entrapped in his hands again.

You were eager to take away his sorrow, but you can’t think of anything to say. You go grab some things in the bathroom and come back to sit on the couch next to him and take his bloodied hand. He doesn’t flinch at your touch at all, it seems to even ground him, his gaze now on how you disinfect the wounds and bandage each of his hands. His lips are drawn in a thin line, his breath heavy but less rattled.

It looks  like it hurt, maybe he had fractured a bone you wondered, but he didn’t wince, didn’t make a sound. You do not let go of his hand at first, your way of telling him that you would take anything he was willing to give you. He caressed your hand back absent-mindedly in return, gaze lost at the motion before he sank into the couch.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m here,” he whispers.

“Why?”

He doesn’t respond at once, still looking miserable. “Just don’t Y/N, alright?” he snaps, his blue eyes reaching right through your soul, raising the fear in you.

“You’re gonna give me more than that, I want to help you.”

“You can’t help me.”

“Then why did you call me?"

Silence again, just him clenching his jaw and you searching his face thoroughly, for anything that he would let you see, to indicate what he needed. You knew him. Better than you would admit, and better than he realised. You just thought that he refused to acknowledge it.

“Because you would know where to find me. And that you wouldn’t judge me, or fucking push me away like everyone else did. At least that’s what I thought…”

“I won’t, okay? I won’t tell anyone you’re here, and I won’t push you away, never again,” you promise, your argument lingering between the two of you. “But I don’t want to see you like this, Will. It’s terrifying. Please talk to me.”

He looks at you with sorry eyes, almost desperate. “That’s exactly why I can’t tell you. Because you would be fucking terrified of me if I did. And I can’t have that. I fucking can’t have that.”

You frown again, parting your lips in dismay. You could never be afraid of him, it was Will, and you knew perfectly well what he was capable of. You have been ready for anything, all those years.

“Not a chance, Will. Look at me,” you ask, forcing him to level eyes with you by tugging on his arm, one side of your face resting on the back of the couch as he turned his own, inches apart from each other. “I just want to help you.”

He observes you for a painfully long time, wide blue eyes digging into yours, but he still seemed unconvinced, making your heart ache a bit. He sighs, a stressful grunt coming out of him. “I don’t know what to do right now. I shouldn’t even have fucking called you. It just fucked up so bad.”

“What went bad?” you quickly press.

His tone drastically changes, like he was hesitant to even talk. “I fucked up, Y/N. I really did.”

“Ok, let’s just… Take a breath, think about it,” you gesture, hoping that he would calm himself and see more clearly. You knew him, and right now, he would blame the world as well as himself, too proud to admit anything. He needed to see that he was safe with you.

He only straightened up and ran his fingers through his hair again, putting distance between the both of you in the process. The night had settled outside, and it felt like you had not progressed at all with him. You settled on the idea of allowing him space, to wait.

“You can spend the night here Will okay? Just… take a step back. Gather your thoughts”

He doesn’t answer you, so you decide it safe enough to go to the kitchen, maybe bring him back a glass of water and let him come to you, like he did before. Once alone near the sink you take a look at your phone and you widen your eyes at the three missed calls from Leah and seven of her texts, all roughly the same content. 

“Y/N, where are you? Tom is in detention, he got arrested for robbery or something.”

“What?” you instantly reply, eyes glued to the screen as you await her response.

“Yeah, the post office thing. Y/N I’m freaking out, I’ve not heard from Matt in hours and he is not answering. I don’t know what to do.”

You thought about calling her for a minute, but you chose not to, not trusting that you would be able to remain calm, and something about a post office rang a bell in your mind.

“Do you know where Will is?” came another text while you tried to gather your thoughts, hearing Will shuffle in your living room. “I’ve tried Jonno but he knows nothing, and the police won’t tell me anything. They asked me to come in.”

You bit your lip. You promised Will you wouldn't tell. Damn, you were not making smart decisions right now, knowing the police were involved, but you were desperate to sort it out yourself first. To understand. You owed it to him.

“I’m sure he’ll come around, I’ll try to reach out for him. Don’t say anything, go to your parents. I’ll keep you updated if anything happens, yeah?”

You lock your phone after that written lie, and reach for a glass before filling it up with water.

You had suspected for a while that the guys were a little too cunning about doing illegal things, and even if they never talked to you about it, they didn’t try to really hide it either. They had the occasional jobs, but they never discussed it, they knew fishy people, fishy places and hung out God knew where for days. Matt was able to pay rent despite those shitty jobs, Will had his nan to take care of and Tom… was Tom. You believed you were unnecessarily worrying, especially since Leah didn't seemed bothered by any of it, so you let it go. But it seemed that she was even more clueless than you were.

You noticed how hard you were squeezing the glass of water in your hand and wondered for how long you had stayed like this, lost in your thoughts. But you decide that you had to know.

You unlock your phone again and search about that post office story you’re sure you’ve heard of before. It was too recent and too local for it to have been related in length, but you found some information nonetheless.

Three men robbed a post office with a firearm, and kidnapped one of the workers. The car has been found and leads are currently followed. Nothing more, the article was dated from yesterday.

You leaned into the counter and sighed, feeling the weight of all of this on your shoulders. Why, Will, why did he inflict that on himself? Where did they find a fucking gun? Why would they kidnap someone?

And why did you have this uneasy feeling that Will’s recent breakdown had something to do with Matt?

You stayed in the kitchen like this for a while, lost in thought. Your phone had several new panicked messages from Leah and you felt like a shitty friend for not calling her or even going to her. But somehow you felt that Will needed you the most. And he was wrong, you were not terrified of him, Never.

You gathered yourself and entered the living room, seeing Will fiddle with the bandages on his hands and he only seemed to notice your presence when you sat down beside him.

You handed him the water that he barely drank, analysing him and processing all of the information you had learned in the last minutes. You just had to try. 

“Will… Where’s Matt?”

A/N: Thank you to @babyblue711, @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan & @arcielee for beta reading. They have been of incredible help and support. Part 2 is written and ready to go.

Part 2

[mya-valentine]

Heya! Do you think you could do some head cannons for shigaraki with a S/O that he's known for a looong time? (My OC and him met and got together when they were both around 15-16)

Headcannon: Tomura Shigaraki with a Long-term S/O

A/N: This idea is so cute🥺 I kinda got carried away, but I hope you enjoy

Having known each other for so long, Shigaraki’s S/O would know all about his past, his pain, and the slow transformation into the villain he is now. They’ve been through it all with him, from his early days of anger and confusion to the moment he took on his villain persona. This creates a deep, almost unbreakable bond between them.

Shigaraki wouldn’t need to say much for his S/O to understand him. They’ve been around each other long enough to know his moods, his triggers, and what he needs. Sometimes, just a glance is enough for his S/O to know when to give him space or when to step in and comfort him. This silent understanding is one of the foundations of their relationship.

His S/O has stuck with him for so long that their loyalty to him is almost unquestionable. They’ve seen the worst parts of him, the parts that would scare anyone else away, but they stayed. That loyalty is something Shigaraki values immensely, even if he doesn’t always express it well. He knows he can trust them, and that’s a rare feeling for him.

Shigaraki is not the type to show weakness in front of the League or anyone else, but his S/O is the one person who gets to see his softer side. Whether it’s late at night when the weight of everything comes crashing down on him or when he’s just too tired to keep up his tough facade, his S/O is the only one who sees the vulnerable, human side of him. In those moments, he might rest his head on their lap or let them run their fingers through his hair, something he’d never allow anyone else to do.

Shigaraki isn’t big on grand displays of love, but after being together for so long, he shows affection in smaller, more subtle ways. He’ll quietly leave something they like on their desk or make sure they have their favorite snack during long missions. These little gestures are his way of saying he cares without having to use words.

He’s not typically affectionate, but after being together for so long, he craves the physical presence of his S/O more than he realizes. He might not admit it out loud, but he finds comfort in their presence, whether it's sitting close by, leaning on them when he's stressed, or sleeping with his head resting on their shoulder. That closeness grounds him in ways nothing else does.

Shigaraki’s possessiveness and protectiveness over his S/O would grow as their relationship deepens over the years. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or threatening them. Despite his villainous, chaotic persona, he’d always make sure his S/O is safe and taken care of. If anyone were to cross them, Shigaraki would make sure they regret it.

Deep down, Shigaraki would be terrified of losing his S/O, especially since they’ve been with him for so long. The thought of them being taken away or hurt would be one of the few things that could break his usually cold exterior. He might not say it, but his actions—keeping them close during dangerous times, warning them to stay safe—would show how much he fears losing them.

Shigaraki has a hard time managing his emotions, especially his rage and frustration. His S/O would act as an anchor for him, helping him calm down or think more clearly when he’s overwhelmed. They know how to talk him down when he’s spiraling, and sometimes, just their presence is enough to ground him.

After being together for so long, his S/O is one of the few people who can get under Shigaraki’s skin—both in a good way and a bad way. If they challenge him or call him out, he might get irritated or angry, but deep down, he respects that they’re not afraid to be real with him. They know him better than anyone, and that means they’re not afraid to push his buttons sometimes.

As much as Shigaraki’s vision for the future is chaotic and destructive, his S/O is a part of that vision. He doesn’t imagine a future without them by his side. Whether it's ruling the world or bringing down the current system, he wants them with him, no matter what. They’ve been a constant in his life, and he’s not letting them go.

His S/O would be someone he trusts to help him plan and strategize. Over the years, they’ve learned to think like him, and he values their input, even if he doesn’t always show it. They’re one of the few people he lets in on his grand schemes, knowing they’ll support him while also keeping him grounded when necessary.

In short, Shigaraki’s relationship with an S/O he’s known since they were teenagers would be one of deep trust, silent understanding, and fierce loyalty. They’d know him better than anyone, helping him navigate his complicated emotions and supporting him through his darkest times. He might not always show it, but his S/O would be the one person he genuinely cares for, even if he struggles to express it in words.

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