#to leave the room because i’m chewing too loudly and when i say something she just says that’s she’ll be interested in talking to me if i-

[crobby]

my mom needs to stop pushing me away because i’m this close to not coming back

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Rue the Day

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: Creepy whumper, blood, restraints, magical whump, nonhuman whumpee, multiple whumpees, defiant whumpee, threats of death

“The rabbit is excellent tonight, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Guilford Wentworth sipped from his wine glass. When Kira didn’t answer right away, he smiled, and his teeth seemed stained slightly red. Kira fought back the way her stomach flipped and bile seemed to rise in her throat, fighting to find its way out. 

She had to stay calm. 

“Miss Losna?” Wentworth’s smile widened, giving the lie to the carefully practiced false concern in his voice. “Are you quite all right?”

Kira cleared her throat, blinking rapidly and forcing herself to sip from the wine as well. She kept her eyes on Wentworth, because if she looked at the display behind him, she may not be able to hold the scream back any longer.

There as a whimper, half-suppressed, and Kira set her jaw and told herself to ignore it.

“I am fine,” She managed, and her voice was calm where her heart beat with frantic, frightened wings within her chest. “Rabbit is not my-... it is not a meat I often dine on, is all. The taste is… new to me.”

“Oh? My apologies. I would have chosen a different entree, but I had heard you come from… well, shall we say humble beginnings, and I thought rabbit may be familiar to you.”

His mockery strengthened her nerves. Kira stabbed a bite of rabbit viciously, trying not to think about how the meat had been coated in a bright red berry sauce that tasted too dark and rich. She chewed, and tried not to taste copper.

Because of course there was no copper.

There couldn’t be.

It was all in her mind, all because of-

“I was not raised on rabbit, Lord Wentworth,” She said coldly, and forced her eyes down to the pale ivory ceramic of her plate, painted with a beautifully oceanic blue. Images of mermaids and sea serpents cavorting in stylized waves, blocked in some spots by the rabbit. Just to the edge of the plate, she saw a handful of painted sirens, looking at the other creatures with… melancholy, perhaps.

The whimper came again. 

Kira’s teeth worked the rabbit to nearly nothing before she swallowed. There was something to that soft sound of pain that struck her like a hammer to a gong, her despair ringing in the air so loudly she could nearly hear it. 

“It is not the siren’s fault that your son spoke up,” She managed to say, if only so she could speak over the way the siren’s careful, determined silence had begun to break against the waves of pain. “You shouldn’t punish him for it.”

“So I should end our dinner early and go punish Ford in person?” Wentworth asked, unbothered by the scene behind him, by the sounds the siren could no longer hold back. “You have quite the cold soul, Miss Losna.” His smile widened. “Perhaps I chose you better than I realized.”

“I do not think you should do anything to your son but leave him alone," Kira bit back. "And you did not choose me." Her fork dropped with a clattering against the plate. “I answered an advertisement. You had no idea who I was before I walked up your front steps.”

“True.” Guilford Wentworth tipped his head forward in acknowledgement. "You answered my advertisement for a job."

“I wish to the gods I hadn’t.”

Guilford Wentworth laughed, a harsh, barking sound that nearly made Kira flinch. Somehow, though, she held steady. “I should be honest with you, Miss Losna. I’m not entirely convinced there are any gods at all.”

Kira sat back. Took another drink of wine, and let the room spin a little around her. It loosened her tongue and stiffened her spine, but it also set her cheeks aflame and left her unsteady. Strong, but dizzy, as if spun endlessly in a dance. “That’s blasphemy.”

“It is.” Wentworth nodded, picking up a heavy red fruit and biting into it, red juice on his chin, dripping onto his plate. Kira’s stomach threatened once again to heave itself empty, and she had to grip onto the edges of the table until they nearly cut into her palms to settle the twisting, flipping sensation. “And yet… well, Miss Losna. If there were gods, then you have to assume one of them would have noticed me, hm? I have one of their own. I live longer than men were meant to live. I haven’t aged a day since my siren was bound to me. They are supposedly a gods’ children, aren’t they?”

Kira was silent, then. 

If he wanted to give a speech, let him. She would simply try to get through this meal, and try equally not to be furious with Guilford’s son Ford, whose dismissal from the table had left her alone with this monster masquerading as man.

From the window, the siren’s soft sounds of pain lengthened into a soft wail. Even that, Kira thought with a shiver, sounded like music.

Against her will, she looked at him.

The siren was strung up like a tormented saint, arms up over his head wrapped in rough sailor’s rope that scratched up his skin and smeared it red. His toes barely danced on the floor, barely able to hold even a little of his weight. To stand normally, he had to let his arms hold all his weight, and it tore the ropes in more deeply, bit by bit. Staying on his tiptoes stretched his leg muscles to what must have been screaming agony. 

He was framed by the yellowing evening light coming through the window, nearly making him a silhouette, a suggestion of endless darkness ringed in awful light.

Kira’s eyes burned with what she resolutely denied could be tears as she saw him twisting his wrists a little, blood running in a rivulet down one arm now. The muscle in his arm twitched as the trail worked down to the crook of his elbow, heading towards his shoulder.

He was naked now, the markings that kept him in bondage to Wentworth’s wicked demands on full display. Kia’s heart beat faster than the rabbit whose remains were on her plate had ever been able to run.

Wentworth had given the order in between inane commentary about weather and what grew in the garden’s greenhouses. It had been tossed out like an aside, as if it didn’t matter at all. Areyto had - staring at Kira all the while - begun to tie himself up. He had climbed up himself into position, moved each arm and leg as Wentworth ordered. The butler Babbage, his eyes clouded and cheerfully convinced he was doing something with curtains, had finished stringing him up. 

Once the weight had become to much, Areyto’s eyes had gone blank and empty. He had wiped himself from his own body with the pain.

Or… perhaps only by the work it took to survive it.

He had no ability to die.

Not unless Guilford Wentworth allowed him to.

Servants bustled around - Nadette and Babbage cheerfully refilled empty cups and whisked away each course and brought the next as though they saw nothing. Nadette had come back puzzled as to what she had even been doing upstairs when she was meant to be attending Kira at dinner, and Kira could only pray to gods that may or may not be real that the clarity in her had lasted long enough to find Kira a way out.

They didn’t see the siren for what he was, or even seem to hear his crying.

Kira did.

And she hated Ford, in the moment, for having been here but then getting himself dismissed so she had to be here alone.

“They are,” Kira said, voice trembling a little. “The moon goddess made the ocean’s creatures, sirens, the mer people, the-”

“And yet,” Wentworth interrupted, too committed to his monologue to allow her to cut him off before he was done. Kira stared at Areyto, watching salt tears running down his cheeks, even though his face was utterly blank. “And yet. Look at him, Miss Losna. Look. Does his goddess save him now?”

Kira swallowed, but her throat felt nearly closed and it took far too much effort to manage. “No,” She whispered. “No. His goddess does not save him.”

Lord Wentworth’s fork scraped in dissonance along his plate, dragging Kira’s gaze back to him. “Clearly she doesn’t,” He said, with confidence. “A century and a half, give or take a dozen years here and there, and my siren remains mine. And he will remain mine. There is no goddess of the moon and waters, Miss Losna. There is no god of the land, no mountain deities to worship, no demons hiding in the Maitsa. There is nothing but people, and two kinds of people at that.”

Kira tried to tear her eyes from the siren’s suffering, but all she could make herself look at was the bottom of her emptied wineglass. There wasn’t enough wine in the world to make this bearable.

“The first sort of person goes on living the life prescribed. Does all the right things, says the right words, gets married and bears a few children and then dies. It’s all for nothing. It means nothing. The second sort of person is far more rare.”

Guilford Wentworth stood, and Kira’s breath caught as he picked up the sharpened blade of the knife that had been beside his plate. He turned away from her, walking over to the siren. Kira should have stood, then - stood and run - but she felt frozen. 

“The second sort of person,” Guilford said, voice lower now, “Is one who controls his own fate. Who refuses to live the prescribed life. Who takes control.”

The edge of the knife cut into the unmarked side of the siren’s body, a slow slice echoing the line of his ribs. 

“Hold still for me,” Guilford said, voice low and thick with some sickening emotion Kira didn’t dare name. The siren turned to look at him, and something in his empty face flickered back to life. There was a pleading there. A scream, but a silent one. “Hold, Areyto.”

The siren’s lips trembled as the knife left him and cut again. Blood ran down to his hip, maneuvered around and over it, ran down the inside of one muscled thigh. Kira’s heart beat so hard she had trouble breathing around it now, as if her lungs refused to expand. She took shallow gasps instead. 

Her fingers closed around her own fork, unconsciously, and she pushed herself to her feet. “Stop,” She whispered. 

“Areyto is mine.” A third slice had the siren weeping openly, unable to fight the pain everywhere within him any longer. Guilford raised his free hand and wiped a tear away with his thumb, licking it off the tip and humming, as if he’d tasted the finest wine. “As you will be. I could cut you just like this, and if he commanded it, you would hold perfectly still.”

“I said-” Her voice cracked. She moved, though, without thinking, coming around the edge of the table and heading towards him. The fork seemed to come to life in her hand, silvered metal twisting and heating up until her palm felt like it was burning. But somehow the burn did not hurt at all. “I said for you to stop. He does whatever you want, leave him be. I don’t require this showcase of your power, Lord Wentworth, you already have me held here against my will!”

“Oh, Miss Losna.” Guilford sighed, happily. “You find yourself terribly mistaken. This isn’t about you at all. I’m not doing this to show you my power over him.”

“Then-” Kira came to a stop, a few feet away. The fork in her hand no longer felt like a fork at all. She looked slowly down at it. “Then why are you-”

“Because he is beautiful,” Guilford breathed, looking back to the siren with shining eyes. “Like this. Because there is nothing I cannot do now.”

Kira had no ready rejoinder, and after a heartbeat of trying - and failing - to think of one she gave up. Standing here watching her captor torture a siren who had done nothing but run into him hurt more than it should. Sirens, after all, were monsters who sang men to their deaths, who took sailors to the depths. But Areyto was also a man, if not a human one. One worn down like river rocks, and soon enough he would be fine as sand, and then he would be nothing at all. 

The air felt heavier and heavier around her, as if any moment now she would cease to be able to breathe it. The inside of her head, by contrast, felt too light, floating away from her. 

Torn in two, she decided to hell with false politeness. 

“Why not just get it over with?” She asked, without looking away. The siren seemed to feel her eyes on him and managed to - briefly - meet her gaze. There was something pleading, there, in the darkness of his eyes. 

“It?” Guilford cut him again, and Kira watched skin twitching beneath his knife and wondered if she could simply vomit all over Wentworth to make this awfulness end. In her hand, the for had become long, straightened out. A sort of tiny spear of silver, and it burned hot enough that she knew if she hadn’t been the one to create it, her hand would be blistered and bubbling. 

She raised her chin. “It, Lord Wentworth. Whatever it is you plan to do to me. Destroying my mind, marrying me off to your son, whatever it is you’ve got tucked away to ruin lives for your own amusement. Why not just do it and cease forcing me to… wait?” 

“Ah.” Wentworth smiled. “Well, that’s quite simple, Miss  Losna.”

“It… it is?”

“It is indeed. Areyto? Would you care to explain?”

The siren cut his eyes back to Guilford, staring at him with such open, baleful loathing that the sheer force of the expression took Kira’s breath away. Then the pain overtook his ability to hold the expression and he slumped into sullen silence, seconds ticking past. 

“Areyto.” Guilford Wentworth’s eyes narrowed. “Tell. Her.”

Areyto’s mouth opened without his say-so. Kira watched him as he spoke, rote and lifeless, voice thin and rough with pain. “The magic-... must be written with free will, or… or it is too weak to hold me.”

Kira blinked. “But-... wait. You-... you enthralled your first magician-”

“I had the thrall lifted,” Guilford said, voice going a little softer. He looked away, then, over towards the grand floor-to-ceiling windows. “Every ten years. For two days, I had it lifted. And she strengthened the spell.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Guilford said, almost gently, lifting his own knife just under the siren’s chin, nicking his throat just to watch the blood run from there, too. “If she didn’t, I would ensure my wife would throw herself off the roof.”

Kira took in a breath.

There was only one monster in this room.

She moved all at once, pushed by a swell of emotion that felt like being sucked under by the riptide, and reached up as high as she could. The burning-hot silver in her hand sliced through the ropes that held the siren as if they were made of butter, not heavy hemp, and the siren dropped to the floor all at once with a cry.

She turned, stepping between Guilford and the siren, lifting her chin. 

“You have no such way to force me, Lord Wentworth.”

To her shock, though he did step back from her, Guilford Wentworth did not react with fear or anger. 

Instead… he laughed. “Of course I do.”

“Oh?” Kira shifted, unconsciously moving closer to Areyto, who had not moved from the floor. She could hear him growling, a sound somehow utterly animal and deeply musical, a bass note held unending. Blood smeared under his hands, soaking into the shining wood under him. It was a deep, oxygen-rich burgundy, darker than Kira’s own - a reminder that despite his appearance, he wasn’t human. 

Not that being inhuman meant he deserved any bit of this.

She faced Wentworth head on, chin high, with every ounce of courage she had in her. The wine had gone entirely to her head, but her voice stayed steady and strong. “And what, exactly, will you do to make me obey you and help you make an empire for yourself when I would happily tear out your throat with my own damn teeth if they weren’t so blunt?” 

Behind her, the siren made a new sound.

It wasn’t quite open laughter - he was in far too much pain. But the soft sound, the huff of breath with the barest edge of volume to it, set stronger steel in Kira’s spine just the same. Warmed something in her that had frozen over before. 

“I won't lift a finger to stop you, Miss Losna.” Wentworth moved away, picking up his wine glass and taking another sip. 

Her lip lifted in a snarl at the smug lie he told so easily. “You speak like a man who hasn’t barred all the bedroom windows to keep me inside,” She responded, voice tight.

Wentworth’s smile did not waver or fade, but something in it tightened. “I will not stop you,” He repeated. “But everyone else here will.”

“You will have them… attack me? Do me harm?”

“No. I will have them do themselves harm.”

Kira froze. “What?” Her voice was a whisper. 

Wentworth shrugged. “Every single one of them will die, by their own hand, as soon as you step off of my property. Their deaths will not be quick or clean, and they will be because of you.”

Kira’s jaw worked, her eyes moving to where Nadette and Babbage still stood by the kitchen door, both of them smiling politely and seemingly unaware of the confrontation by the window. “You lie.”

“No, my dear, I do not. The order has already been given.” Wentworth sighed, voice gentling. “It was given as soon as I knew you had already met my siren. If you leave, they will die. You will consign three dozen servants to their deaths, including my butler and of course your own sweet maidservant… even the stable boy will hang himself in the barn. Every one of them will die in some way, and they will know why they do it but be unable to stop. So.” He lifted one hand, twirling his finger in pointed down. “I suggest, Miss Losna, that you drop your weapon, or I will command the first death. Which of course will be the lovely young Nadette.”

Kira hitched in a breath, fear washing cold across her. She stared at Nadette’s smiling face, where she stood across the room, and thought of the terror in the girl when she had grabbed her arm and said I don't want to be here. “I-... You wouldn't. How would your life ever continue-”

“I will. If you refuse me, and I lose my siren’s power, then my life will be short and brutish regardless. I have little to lose, if the creature is lost. So leave and know your selfishness will be their cause of death. And know, also, that I will ensure you are charged by the king with every single murder. After all, I have no magic. But you do. Or so the king will believe. Drop the weapon, Miss Losna. Now.”

“Lord Wentworth-”

“Drop the weapon,” Guilford said, voice lower than ever. “And say, yes, my lord. Or Nadette will drink the vial she carries in her pocket, and you will watch her die in agony.”

Kira stood still for a long moment.

The bit of silver clattered from her numb fingers to the floor. 

When Wentworth's eyebrows raised and he leaned forward, one hand cupped behind his ear as he waited, she swallowed and managed, in a trembling voice, “Y-... Yes, m-my lord.”

“Good girl.” Wentworth's voice was sickly sweet and low. His smile widened once more - too wide, grotesquely stretched. “Sit back down, we still have to enjoy our dessert.”

Kira felt her feet moving without her, drifting back to her chair. Her mind raced and the world around her felt suddenly unreal as she settled, staring down at her plate until Babbage whisked it away and disappeared back into the kitchen again.

Kira looked over at the siren, where he still knelt on the floor.

“You, too,” Wentworth said, beckoning the siren with a single crook of his finger. Areyto pushed himself uncertainly to his feet, struggling to stay upright. His ribs were still bleeding, the smell of it overwhelming and making Kira’s stomach flip again. Or maybe it had never stopped. 

Areyto sat back in his chair, still naked - the servants didn’t seem to notice. Kira couldn’t see anything past his bright eyes and the red of his blood. The sight of him felt real in a way nothing else in this house of horrors did. 

“You will not leave your room again unless summoned,” Wentworth said, imperious now. “If you are found anywhere else, even once, I will begin ordering deaths. If you care about the lives of anyone but yourself, Miss Losna, you will go where you are bid and do what I tell you. And you will bind my siren back to me with all the magic you can use.”

Kira kept her eyes on the siren.

She had no idea what was served for dessert. She heard nothing Wentworth said after that. At some point, she was given leave to return to her rooms and she fled to the stairs, feeling a stab of guilt at leaving the siren once again alone with this monstrous man. But it was not enough guilt to stop her.

Once she had closed the door behind her, she flung herself on her bed, screaming into the heavy soft pillow.

How had she already begun to think of this as her room? This bed as her bed? How could she have been so well encircled and not realized he would use the servants against her?

She screamed again.

This time, she kept it up until her throat burned with it and her voice began to give, going hoarse and rough. She held the pillow against her face until sparks danced behind her closed eyes as she fought for air. Finally, she threw the pillow away, watching it thump onto the floor.

Then she turned to where it had been and saw the crumpled paper there. Kira swallowed, picking the folded piece of paper up and slowly opening it. 

Young Master Ford, Young Miss Nathalie, and the twins all have rooms without bars on the windows. 

Master Ford will come to you at midnight with the siren. 

Miss Nathalie will, too.

Nathalie. Kira felt something in her settle. That would be the eldest daughter from the painting, Ford’s younger sister. Clearly she and Ford felt similarly, if they were going to help Kira and Areyto, or even just Kira…

No.

She wouldn’t leave here without the siren beside her. Areyto needed rescue more than she did, in the end, and it wasn’t his singing that made her believe it. It was her own conviction. Her own certainty.

Kira pushed herself off the bed, then, setting her shoulders with resolution and heading into the bathing room, hoping against hope she could somehow manage to get this dress off all by herself.

She was sorely in need of a bath.

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings  @theelvishcowgirl  @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10   @apokolyps   @wildfaewhump   @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee @angelsproject @loony-whumptoons

[jinhua-shu]

HELPLESS, Scaramouche/Wanderer x GN!Reader

PART ONE: OVERTHINKING

PART TWO: HIS POINT OF VIEW

PART THREE: HELPLESS

PART FOUR: THE AFTER-EFFECT

PART FIVE: I.. LOVE YOU.. DUMMY

MENTIONS: @lxkeeeee , @4ngei4

[REQUESTS ARE OPEN <33]

Falling into a deep slumber after crying to yourself for hours, waking up at 12pm in a daze, as you slowly sat upright on your bed, phone in hand.

you’ve completely decided to talk to other people for awhile to distract yourself from thinking about him. you spent your time, socializing and having fun with people whom you’re not that close with, but it was quite refreshing.

8pm has struck you’re now currently in your room, texting your friends, talking about various topics.

you seemed to feel quite alright, but then.. you started remembering him. oh god, how it made you feel like you’ve wasted your time for nothing.

“ I need to talk to.. Lumine.. “ you said to yourself as you opened the chat with the mentioned girl and asked her to do a voice call with you.

“  Lu.. i feel so frustrated, i can’t get him out of my head.. “

Lumine sighed as she replies with ‘ Y/N.. do your work..’ in such a sassy voice.

“ It’s just.. i’m confused, he had shown his interest to me, we talked about the possibility of getting together and all.. but i feel like my connection with him is just crumbling down. “

Lumine rolled her eyes, ‘ Y/N.. you know it’s not healthy to obsess over something like that. heck, you and Mr. hat guy were in a Situationship. you shouldn’t fret much because you and him weren’t in a Labled relationship.’ Lumine chews loudly through her mic.

“ I know.. this situationship.. isn’t really something to fret over... but i just like-- no love him too much.. “ you sighed before crumbling down on the floor near your bed.

Lumine huffs as she ends the call, before telling Y/N to suck it up.

“ I.. have such a great best friend.. haaaa...” You huffed as you leaned on the side frame of your bed.

sighing loudly once again, feeling even more distressed, worry piling over your gut. and unnecessary thoughts swirling through your mind all out once, making you pale and want to vomit.

you want to barf out your feelings towards Scara, you want to stop worrying about him.. but you cannot, because you have fallen deeper inlove with him.

your thoughts were cut off when you’ve finally received a message from the said guy after 2 and a half days, later, scared. you waited and thought of what he had said in your chat conversation, getting curiouser and curiouser, you gave in and checked the message..

“ Hey, i have to say no. i just want us to stay friends for now. i have problems to deal with, and i don’t want you to get affected by my quote on quote moodiness. “

reading those words made your heart crumble, those words pierced your heart with a million sharp jabs. it made you feel like you forgot how to breathe, it made you.. feel helpless.

forcing a smile onto your face, you shakily typed in a response to his rejection.

��� Thank you for rejecting me.. i hope you’ll clear the problems that you have, away “

you breathed shakily, mustering up the courage to even stand up straight to lay on your bed. reaching out towards your plush.. hugging it tightly before letting out  loud huffs. you couldn’t control it anymore as tears streamed down on your face. muffled sobs can be heard outside your bedroom, as Lumine slowly backs away from your bedroom door, as she retracts her hand away from your door’s doorknob. she felt bad leaving you be.. but you need the space..

“ I’ll leave this.. one down here.. “

lumine says as she slowly lay down an item.. on the floor.

it was.. a small bell, with your Initial and scara’s initial embedded in..

a bell.. that scara was about to give to you.. to accept your feelings, but it ended up being lost. the bell.. that held Scara’s longing love.. that’s been casted away and stolen.

the bell. the symbolizes Scara’s feelings towards you, also one.. that symbolizes you to move on, once it rang. for your time with him has come to an end.

[bookshelf-dust]

Just wanted to let you know that your work is fucking awesome! I'm currently writing a Eddie x reader fic and wanted to include Gareth and stumbled upon your fics while I was looking for some kind of inspiration. And now I kinda fell in love with this curly haired guy due to your awesome fics! Thank you so much! 💕

Also, may I request something short and fluffy? I had some rough weeks and would die for some cute and funny comforting fic. Maybe reader had some bad grades and her parents are terrorising her about that and her best friend left her because "she was lame" and Gareth found her somewhere in the halls nearly crying because everything is too much and he tries to comfort her and make her laugh again?

Sending lots of love. 💕

good enough

gareth emerson x fem!reader

word count: 1,554

warnings: reader has fight with mother/fight with friend, loneliness, anxiety, one mention of being drunk, fluff, comfort

a/n: hi sweetheart!! i’m so happy that you enjoy my gareth stuff. thank you so much for reading them and for your request! i’m so very sorry that you’ve had a shitty couple of weeks, but i hope that maybe this will make you feel a little better! sending lots and lots of hugs your way. <333

————

“So you just weren’t going to show us until I had to berate you about it? Huh?”

Your mother’s voice is shrill where she stands in front of you. Your father sits across from you at the dining room table, reading the notes your teacher left on your essay.

“I didn’t realize I had to show you every assignment I turn in.”

She exhales loudly and you refuse to look at her. “You do when you receive a grade like that! I thought you were good at this subject.”

Your knee starts to bounce.

You are good. You’re just struggling right now. With this particular instructor, with the class itself—it’s taking a lot out of you.

Not that she’d know that.

Not that she ever asks or would want to know how you actually feel.

Your mother turns to face her husband. “You haven’t got anything to say?”

Your dad takes his glasses off and looks up. “The notes say that there are strong points, but that there are things to be adjusted.”

He turns his head, making eye contact with you. “You can improve.”

He says it both as a fact and a question.

You nod, chewing on your nails.

He’s always been the softer of your parents, but your mother is always very quick to make everything about herself.

Well if you’re doing badly in school, then I must be a bad mother. What will others think if they find out you’re a failure?

“Did you try your best with this?” He asks you.

“I did,” you start. “This material has just been hard on me.”

He turns to face his wife now. “See? She’s trying, honey. You’ve got to give her a chance.”

“Well, she’s not trying hard enough. School was perfectly easy for me.”

That is the end of that, you decide. You can’t listen to her speak as if you’re not in the room anymore. You get up and leave for your bedroom.

————

You sit on the edge of your bed, sinking in on yourself. You want to call Gareth. You know even the mere sound of his voice will help you feel better.

But he’s got Hellfire tonight. He’s not home. Although you contemplate calling anyhow, because if you do, his mother will answer, and she’s always been so sweet and open with you.

You decide against it, but you really need to talk to someone. Anyone. About anything.

You think you want to call Mel.

Melissa Thompson was your very best friend. She had been for the past couple of years, and you’d felt safe around her.

Though lately, she’d been coming up with excuses not to hang out with you. She had studying to do, she’d say. She had to babysit her little cousin.

And you had this feeling. This awful feeling that really it was that she didn’t like you anymore.

She was changing, ready to graduate and move on to bigger things. Ready to make new friends.

You were afraid of change.

But now, you find yourself fidgeting with a string on your quilt as the phone rings and even more aggressively when Melissa answers.

She audibly sighs when she realizes it’s you on the phone.

You wanted to talk, but that gives you a clear sign that she doesn’t want to, and suddenly you’re very frustrated with the fact that you’re seemingly not good enough for anyone.

“Let’s hurry this up then, huh, Mel?” You exclaim.

None of this felt fair. You were not a child and you didn’t appreciate being treated like one.

“Have I done something wrong?” You ask.

When Melissa responds, you can hear what you think is a smile in her voice.

“I’m sorry. You’re just…you’re lame, Y/N.” Your breath hitches. “When’s the last time you came out with me?”

All she ever wanted to do anymore was find a party so she could get drunk and fit in.

“When’s the last time we went shopping?”

All she ever wants is to wear something to impress a boy.

“You just sit around, or you go watch that boy practice for his band. You have no life. And frankly, I don’t really want you in mine anymore.”

You don’t have it in you to fire something back, but you don’t want to leave it like this.

“Well you know what, Mel? Not everyone spends their time trying to please other people or be normal. So fuck you, then.”

You hang up, and bury yourself in your bedding, letting the tears come as they please.

You want Gareth.

————

When you wake the next morning, the feelings from the previous night follow you into the kitchen, where your mother doesn’t speak to you.

And then on the way to school. During school, when you speak with your teacher and come away feeling like a failure because apparently, you hadn’t looked closely enough. Hadn’t analyzed well enough.

They follow you to lunch too, though that’s where you lose it.

You see Melissa in the courtyard and everything comes crashing down. Every feeling from last night and this morning bears down on you.

It feels like you’re surrounded, like the reminders of your wrongdoings are everywhere, and you pack up your things and rush inside.

You’re pacing back and forth at the end of the hallway, somewhere you think you can be alone since everyone else is doing who-the-fuck-knows-what on their lunch break.

Gareth leaves the cafeteria to head for the vending machines, which, rather than be in the lunchroom, are in a separate location a little ways away.

Exactly near where you’re fighting a breakdown.

He spots you, and picks up the pace. He hasn’t seen you in days.

“You thinkin’ Skittles or Starburst today?” He inquires, assuming your contemplating a snack.

Gareth’s voice makes you jump, and he catches it. You turn around, and he looks you over, seeing how glassy your eyes are.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You soften at his presence.

“It’s nothing,” you tell him.

“Hey, no. We aren’t doing that.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and they’re warm.

Your eyes well up further at his words, the fact that he wants to listen, that you know he’ll be there for you, and then they’re clouding your vision so much that you can’t see him anymore.

They spill over.

Gareth takes you into his arms, wrapping them around your shoulders. He’s never seen you like this. He never wants to see it again.

“You know you can talk to me. I know you know that.”

He rubs your back up and down and up and down. You bury your face in his neck. He smells like syrup—you bet he made pancakes for his sisters this morning—and this soft cologne that he wears and very faintly of cigarettes.

Eventually you pull back, and before you can wipe your face, Gareth does it for you.

You take a deep breath.

“My mom got pissed at me last night because I didn’t do well on Click’s essay and she chalked it up to being because I’m not trying hard enough. Because school was easy for her and basically that means I’m a fucking dumbass, right?”

“And then I wanted to call you but you had Hellfire, so I called Melissa, though you know how she’s been,” you stop for a second, your voice breaking, and then you continue. “And she said I was lame, that she didn’t want me around anymore.”

“So I’m just overwhelmed and I feel like Im not good enough for anyone anymore. And I wanted you so bad last night but you were busy and then when you weren’t busy I didn’t want to burden you with my feelings either.”

When you’ve finished, Gareth rubs his hands up and down your arms. He seems to do that when he knows your upset, the rubbing.

“Your mom’s being an ass about the essay,” he says. “School’s not the same for everyone and I’m sorry that she said that. But you are not a dumbass, you hear me? I know how hard you try. I see it.”

You look away from him and he presses his first two fingers gently against your cheek, turning your face back to him.

“And I never liked Melissa anyways. She’s an asshole for not seeing how good of a friend you are and how lucky she was to have you in her life. And you’re totally not lame. You’re a badass.”

That makes you smile. Just enough that Gareth does too.

“Also I don’t ever want to hear you say you don’t want to burden me with your feelings ever again. You literally couldn’t.”

You nod repeatedly, as if assuring yourself, and then look into his eyes.

“I just want you to know that you’re good enough for me. You always have been,” he tells you.

You grin at him, albeit a little sadly. You’re feeling over the moon for him. He thinks you look sweet.

“Come sit with me?”

“Sure.”

Gareth presses a kiss to your forehead like it’s something he does everyday, and then he’s taking your hand, leading you towards his friends.

And you feel like it’s going to be okay.

You know it will. And he’ll make sure of it.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[fixed-signs]

Marzana, Marzana

Marzana, Marzana - Chapter 1

Pairing: Josh x original female character (you read that right if you come back up here halfway through this chapter)

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI, drinking, weed, implied sex

Eventual pregnancy and angst, we got slow burn, we got fluff

Word count: 2.7k

Hadley took one look back at the brick apartment building, the last plastic milk crate of records in her hands and a guitar slung on her back. She exhaled, cheeks puffing out, and feeling slightly uncomfortable in the warm Tennessee October. 

She watched the leaves, still attached to the trees sway like the licking flames of a fire. She felt no desire to take anything else. She didn’t need any of it really. Everything in that apartment no longer served her or this strange— constantly parting stage of her life at the moment. 

*

“What an asshole.” She spoke into the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she drove into a parking spot. 

“Hadley….” Sara on the other end cooed. 

“He tried the ‘I was hurting too’ move, which like, yeah buddy because it was you who was gone all the time taking care of your dying mother.” 

“Pfft, did you tell him that? Like oh yeah, sticking your dick in someone else really screams empathy to me. Oh God! Was she there?!”

“No, no, she wasn’t there….and I let him do most of the talking or groveling or whatever you want to call it. I think she might have realized what a piece he was well before I ever did. But like good for her, ya know?”

“I enjoy your feminism in this situation. He didn’t make a huff about your stuff, did he?”

“He certainly didn’t help me load it up, but clearly I’m all about girl power… The only thing he got in my face about was me taking back the guitar. He was all ‘that’s a gift, you can’t take it back. ‘Mweh’ to me about it.”

“God fuck him.” 

Hadley, stared out the windshield of her car. The glare from the sun making every piece of dust on her dashboard apparent.

“Yeah…” There was a silence, then Hadley gently pulled the phone from her ear while Sara settled a barking dog in the background. “I gotta go.”

“Ok, I’ll see you later.” 

“Oh, no yeah, I just decided to get a hotel room.”

*

Hadley sipped her nearly overflowing double of bourbon and coke and looked at the banner framing the entry way of the patio “Gibson Anniversary Celebration”. Music was blasting, she saw plenty of selfies being taken— She didn’t recognize most of the celebrities smiling on demand next to her coworkers. Hadley subtly danced through the crowd to the some tables to find a seat. She didn’t feel quite up to dancing and figured coworkers were still too starstruck to find any of them on the dance floor quite yet. 

“Ok, but would you rather-“ Sam stood at the end of the table, and shouted, “Ahem, would you rather-“

It didn’t matter, Danny was taking a picture with someone, Jake was busy observing everyone and frankly, was over Sam and tonight, and Josh was trying to scoop a piece of ice on his straw. 

“You know, this is the best ice. The tube kind.” He declared when he managed to thread one on the end of his straw. 

“Josh, shut up!” Sam whined. 

“Yeah, its crushed, fuckhead.” Jake added. 

“Basic bitch-” Josh humored between crunches of ice. 

“Would you rather—“

“Have you heard that chewing ice says something about a man’s sexual prowess?” Josh continued. 

“What on Earth would that have to do with anything?” Jake slid his sunglasses down and proceeded to crunch loudly on piece he scooped out with his fingers from Sam’s drink.

Sam stomped and his eye were about to bulge out of his head. 

Danny sat back down at the end of the booth, knowing he had to intervene without any context, “Ok, what’s the would you rather?” 

“JESUS, I’m getting to it.” Sam squawked, “You know what, no, no, I’m getting another fuckin’ - stronger— drink.”  

The boys booed as Sam left the table. 

Sam was moving gracefully through the large crowd until he was shoved, seemingly out of no where. Before he could catch himself or even glance to see who had pushed him he was on Hadley and Hadley was covered in her drink. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. God- oh here,” He helped her stabilize her footing again. Her platform boots slipping a little in the puddle under her. 

“It’s good, what even happened, are you good?” 

“I’m fine!” Sam began shouting as another song started playing, seemingly louder than the last one. “What were you drinking. I can get you another. And some napkins!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Hadley shook her head.

“Don’t with that. Was it a rum and coke?” 

She crinkled her nose, “Bourbon.” 

“Alright.”

He smiled and Hadley held a hand to her cheek, trying to calm the red flush she felt all over. Luckily most of the drink spilled on her shoes and pants, leaving no truly uncomfortable stickiness on any exposed skin other than her hands. 

*

“Look who I ran in to! It’s Hadley!” Sam announced as he herded Hadley to the table with the rest of the band. 

“It’s you!” Danny played along with the joke. 

“It’s you!” Hadley pretend fawned over Danny. “It’s been so long!” 

“Hi, I’m Josh,” Josh held out his hand. 

“I know, we go way back.” She played along and shook his hand anyways. 

Jake quietly chuckled, observing as Sam pulled up another chair on his side of the table for her. 

“How did you get dragged over here?” Jake piped up. 

“I spilled her drink, and I’m being a gentleman.” Sam answered quickly ending on defensive. 

“Oh well, that’s good, I thought you had just wet your pants. Urination as the professionals call it.” Josh said. 

“Where the fuck are you from? What is that accent?” Hadley quipped back.

Danny shook his head, “English isn’t his first language—“

“We only let him learn his English by watching Jackass.” Jake popped another piece of ice in his mouth, Josh silently mocked his brother’s crunching face, it all was getting entertaining for Hadley. 

“We’re from Michigan.” Sam announced. 

“Oh well…did you- did you know that trade routes from New York brought that accent to Michigan- but no one else here sounds like that…so why do you sound like that?“ 

“Yeah really Joshua? Can you believe we are identical twins?” Jake plucked his sunglasses off and hooked them on his shirt collar.

“Yeah he sounds normal,” Hadley pointed a thumb at Jake, “That explains even less.” 

The table laughed. A new song started Sam and Danny locked eyes. They both began to stand and dance at each other. Danny mouthed the words between sips of his drink. 

“It’s a bop.” Sam and Danny said in unison, clearly an inside joke, and they left to the dance floor that was slowly filling up. 

“So who are you now?” Jake asked. 

“Marzana Hadley.” She held out her hand to Jake, a playful sarcasm in her voice now, “luthier extraordinaire.” 

“Oh? Jake Kiszka,” Jake saw her eyebrows knit together, he gave her hand a light squeeze. “Lead guitar. Of Greta Van Fleet.” 

She avoided eye contact with Jake, as if it’d hide the bashfulness suddenly overcoming her. She’d heard of them— this man’s face was in several pictures around the office and headquarters. Hadley glanced at Jake again, a red light coming from the dance floor haloed in his hair. Josh was already spurting as their equally calloused hands slid from each other.

“Josh Kiszka, yes, Greta Van Fleet’s lead sing-er.” He emphasized for humor, “What do you do for Gibson?” 

“Yeah Marzana, what do you do for Gibson?”

Hadley cleared her throat, her body still flushed from embarrassment, “It’s Hadley. The rockstars interviewing me? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Am I getting the rockstar treatment??”

They both chuckled, “Sorry, no no.” Jake apologized. 

“Did you know,” Josh mimicked her from earlier, “The throat is the 5th chakra. Yours sounds very blocked.”

“You must know all about throat health being a sing-er. AndI just- wow, thank you. The best most heartfelt compliment I’ve gotten in weeks.”

“That’s not nearly as interesting as her linguistics analysis of your annoying ass.” Jake said after a sip of beer. He shook it and listened to any liquid sloshing. Empty.

“Any other esoteric traits you’d like to criticize? I’m a sad Pisces, so go easy.” 

“Ah, well I think your Sanpaku eyes are wonderful. What has you so weary in this life?”

“Josh….” Jake huffed as he stood, “What the fuck man.” 

“Was that a pick up line? Because it’s a bad one.”

“It wasn’t, but I’ll work on it.” 

Hadley rolled her eyes, but was startled as someone abruptly grabbed her shoulders. It was a coworker, who was clearly tipsy and giggly. 

“Hey girl!” The girl hugged around Hadley’s shoulders, pinning her in an awkward sitting-side-back-hug. 

“You sound like you’re having a good time.” Hadley smile, but pleaded for help with her eyes at either of the boys.

“This is Mike from Iowa I’ve been telling y’all about.” her southern drawl was thick as she held out her hand for everyone to see, “Covid love.” 

She hummed and opened her eyes, focusing way too hard on Hadley. It was the alcohol, but it was still jarring compared to the vibe of the rest of the table. 

“Most romantic of pandemics. Spanish flu has nothing on you guys.” Hadley chattered, it cause Josh to choke mid sip of his drink. 

“What? Anywhose, I’m so sorry about your mama and her cancer and all. God, and your breakup? I’m sorry girly. What a year for you.”

“Uh…yeah…..thanks…..” Dread was all over Hadley’s voice— no her entire being. 

Jake and Josh looked at each other. Jake silently was screaming ‘I told you so’ behind his eyes as Josh, unneeded as Josh felt like a true asshole for calling this stranger sad. Hadley just wanted to sink into her chair and not have to pretend the niceties, albeit genuine, would stop. As if manifestation was real the friend realized who the twins were. 

Hadley slinked away with her drink to find obscurity with Sam and Danny- well really anyone who didn’t truly know her, on the dance floor. 

*

Jake and Josh slipped away after some photos and were in line at the bar. Josh bobbing along to the music in his spot, Jake swaying and shifting weight between his feet. He regretted wearing brand new boots.

“You should make a move.” Josh looked towards his friends and Hadley on the dance floor. 

They were having a dance off with cheesy dance moves mixed with square dancing moves. All laughing uncontrollably at each new move the other presented. Cheering and clapping. 

Jake looked at his feet, “I don’t know, man. She’s cool.”

“Yeah she’s fucking cool, dude. I know it’s been a while.” 

“Not since Jita.” 

“So a year?” 

“It’s only been 9 months and it’s not like you’re out there making moves either since-“

“I don’t do rebounds like you.” Josh smacked Jake in the chest.

Jake’s body flinched and he managed to stop his arm from coming up and delivering a swat back, “I don’t ‘do rebounds’ either. Jesus.” He made air quotes. 

Jake took another look at Hadley, now doing the Macarena very off beat to the music while Sam pretend lassoed Danny. 

“How the hell is Sam the only one with a partner out of all of us right now?” Jake muttered. 

“I dunno, but it’s fucked up.” Josh agreed. They clinked drinks.

*

“Shit,” Hadley groaned standing in front of the hotel as the uber pulled away behind her. 

“What’s up?” Jake was already sweating. 

“I- I was moving today and I didn’t have time to get all of my stuff out of my car to my room. Do you mind if I—?”

“Not at all, I can help.” 

Jake followed silently behind Hadley to her car. She popped the trunk and Jake’s eyes widened at the collection of records sitting there. 

“It’s like a lot, it’s just bad to let them sit in changing temperatures and it’s already like 20 degrees colder than when I left. It’s find if you don’t want—”

“I- I get it.” He smiled and began to stack two milk crates. 

*

“Thanks for the cab, by the way.” Hadley pushed the hotel luggage caddy, now full of records to her room; Jake holding on the back and watching for any runaway items when they took turns out the elevator and down hallways. 

It was actually much simpler and less mortifying to slip out of the party with Hadley. Sam had left to FaceTime his girlfriend after her show. Danny and Josh seemingly vanished, almost an Irish goodbye until Jake got a text saying ‘Joshua and I are meeting Alex and bar hopping’ from Danny. 

“No worries. The least I could do after you flamed Josh like that.” 

She let an airy “ha” spit from her lips while she waited for the light on the doorknob to turn green. Hadley pulled out her key card and held the door open for Jake to push the cart in.

“Speaking of flaming people, did you see Slash dancing?” 

They both erupted in laughter. Jake gently shut the heavy hotel door behind him.

He scanned the room: your average beige walls with an overly bright accent wall, a grey-blue bed spread, but the wall with the TV and mini fridge was stacked with even more vinyls and two guitars. One was in a case leaned against the wall upright while the other was laid across the arm chair at the very corner of the room. 

“Do you want to listen to anything?” Hadley offered as she balanced on one foot un-doing her boot. 

“Sure.” Jake grinned and parked the caddy.

“Cool, I’ll set up.” 

Jake flipped through the contents of the collection. Hadley had opened a box and was now on her hands and knees trying to reach an outlet near the bed. She had placed a record player on the night stand, cords trailing out the back to two speakers. Hadley stood back and admired the work before going to her purse and opening a cigarette case. It held several skinny and neatly wrapped joints. 

“I’m gonna- do you-“ She said voice creaking, mechanically, nervously. 

Jake shook his head yes, Hadley nodded and dug out a lighter from another pocket of her bag. She cracked a window, a joint now hanging lazily out of her mouth. Hadley walked over to Jake, she lit up and the familiar herbal smelled wafted to him.

“You decide on anything yet?” 

“This,” Jake held a record between them. In a smooth exchange Hadley took it from his hands and he took the joint from her lips. 

“I wasn’t expecting this.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with the Arctic Monkeys.” Jake wheezed after a drag, the record player hummed and scratched before a heavy, slow beat filled the room.

Hadley sat on the foot of the bed and flicked ashes into stout white coffee cup from the desk. Jake slung the guitar without a case over his shoulders, the joint was passed back to him as he placed himself next to her. The mattress sinking slightly with his weight. Jake strummed and fiddled on the instrument, tuning a string, then strumming a few notes, matching the song. 

“Did you make this?” Hadley nodded at Jake and watched his hands fiddle along the neck, “It’s beautiful.” He said, pausing and staring at Hadley. 

She was blushing. Taking the joint out of Jakes mouth delicately between her pointer and middle finger, “One of the first ones I ever made.” She said after exhaling smoke. 

The room fell quiet between songs, a deafening silence. Hadley flicked the ashes into the cup one more time, her head spinning as the high was starting to hit. She offered the joint back to Jake, holding it near his face. His eyes were heavier than before. He gazed at her faded lipstick mouth he grabbed her wrist out of the way and they both crashed into each other at the same time. 

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

too obsessed with this series to stop (i also think it's so hilarious this started as a oneshot request 😭) ur brain just couldn't stop ⬇️

It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

GIGI WROTE HER FOR ME

There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

god i love ur writing i swear this fic gets better with a new update

“They chew up people like you.” “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

oooo reader 1: rafe 0 she ate him up

"Change of plans."Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space. 

why was this so clever (also rafe's obsession w locking people in rooms 😭)

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

i honestly would've sat in my room n draw or smth

Were you getting mugged?

with no money 😭

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

hes so kinky (do it)

“Show me.”“Uh?”He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

i just realized why ur writing is so magnetic; it's because u write almost like a screenplay, like i can visually see all of ur scenes played out on a show or a movie or something; especially your dialogues like it belongs in hollywood

“Atta girl.”

pls sir, just one chance 🛐

“They’re about you.”"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."Your brows pulled together, “What is?”He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

oh my GODDDD

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

im giggling so hard rn

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

he's so whiny i love him

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

i'm so quiet during this smut scene bc im enjoying it too much

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

he's so hot ohmyfuckinggod

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

back to our regular scheduled program: emotions

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."“But it’s wrong.”“I know, pretty.”

they r so enemies to lovers u did this so well

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”“Promise?”He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.“Promise.”

i love them so much i could cry

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | god this smut scene was TOO good i gotta say ur best work to DATE 🤭 okay, okay, but onto the real business. i think what i love about this part (i think this has to be my favorite part by far) is that, like i said, ur writing plays out like a movie. the way you describe things with such beautiful prose and the way their dialogues bounce off each other. i always compliment your dialogues because it's so true, i am in absolute love with the way it feels so rich and organic and unpredictable (not in a bad way). like there's a conventional storytelling to certain scenes/dialogues but you always manage to surpass expectations and make it innovative and engaging! i fucking love how you build the intimacy through rafe and reader through touch and little acts where you have to read between the lines to understand. and when i get them? 🫠 reader is so independent and stands on her own shit which i love and it reminds me a little too much like me (who said that) but overall, for this specific part, i was obsessed with their banter during the gun scene, and during the smut (of course) but just truly, the way you WRITE it's so so incredible. i'm trying to find better words to explain myself. i love how rafe was yearning for her so badly during the smut, but he backed off bc she said so, and kept asking for clarity and she gave it. it gave me butterflies fr (u saw how quiet i was during that whole scene i barely annotated) and i love the way he kept praising her (blushing fr 🥰) because ur dirty talk is TOP TIER!!! and lastly lastly, the way their fears is embedded in things changing and how they have to confront this new reality of them falling for each other 💘

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin. With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself. While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages. You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into this situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible. It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group. Kie, Pope, John B…They weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a delicate balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence. You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in a turbulent life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst. It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity. While others your age worried about trivial matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending storm in his eyes. You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, and for a moment, he looked like he might’ve backed down. But then his expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," he said, his tone condescending. "You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too,” you said, your voice low and steady. "And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

The defiance in your fixed look mirrored his own stubbornness. Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that. For a moment it looked like he might’ve argued. And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, fury and panic mixing in your chest. "Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no response from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing. He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different. Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, its frame sturdy and dependable.

That’s it! You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances. Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building, the ground looming ever closer with each passing moment. 

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, your voice urgent, “It’s important.”

After a moment of hesitation, he relented, quickly scribbling down an address on a piece of paper and thrusting it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand, a feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline surging in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shout, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a brief moment. You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, his agitation palpable in the confined space of the alley. “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp, his frustration evident. “You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm, his touch firm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden shifts in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

You only gaped in disbelief. “What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, his tone firm, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at Rafe’s chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe said, nodding in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained steady, unwavering. Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, now? “I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him. You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded, his voice softening slightly as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, the weight of what just transpired settling heavily on your shoulders, as you and Rafe sat in silence, the events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly; his expression unreadable. "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“Hey, look at me,” he said, voice weirdly soft, “We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere. There were more important matters at hand. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream. You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe. The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt, a stark contrast to the chaos that seemed to constantly surround him.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t. You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you. It was a lot to process, the realization that you had become a part of his nightmares, a constant haunting presence in his thoughts. Rafe’s fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and a rush of memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But as it lingered, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, like a balm soothing an old wound. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up. It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

Once again, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions coursing between you. Guilt, fear, desire, all intertwined in a tumultuous dance within your heart.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you felt deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. And you melted into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead. All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. 

But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the beating of your heart.

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch lingering like a promise of things left unsaid.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee. When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead. Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Rafe's hand tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again, “Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him, face twisting into confusion.

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you shifted, turning onto your side to face away from him.

Rafe moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like a shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

Your pulse quickened, and your skin tingled. An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you shifted again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with purpose, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head. Rafe's response was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you. The uncertainty, the fear, and the desire all came down together in a chaotic swirl. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted. You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire coursing through your veins.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit. You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss. You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts blurring as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening, each movement driving you closer to the edge. Rafe's breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised, his voice a rough whisper. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your core. Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he gently withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky and all rough against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven. The friction was maddening, each movement sending volumes of satisfaction through you.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he struggled for control. “You feel so good,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much to bear. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in. His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again rapidly. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so close. His hand on your clit moved in time with his hips, each touch sending you spiraling higher.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan in response, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You trying to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix. Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn of desire ignited into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole. The taste of him filled your mouth, a heady mixture of the cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours. The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Cum for me, pretty,” he urged his voice rough and filled with need. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took. With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe and desire, his hands never leaving your body, grounding you through your orgasm. As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips soft and tender. He murmured soothing words, his voice a sexy whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own racing pulse, a reminder of the connection between you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the waves subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, "I want to feel you cum inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass, "Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open, dark and intense as he watched your reaction. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel you cum."

The pet name did it. His response was immediate. With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he drove into you with a powerful thrust. His pace was relentless, his movements fueled by a desperate need to reach his release. His face was a mask of intense concentration, his jaw clenched as he pounded into you. The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, creating a symphony of raw passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Cum for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising. And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. your own body still buzzing with the aftermath of your pleasure. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that rendered you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his touch kind and reverent.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Rafe's lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss a stark contrast to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but the dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed his voice a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the gentle strength of his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you didn’t feel so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else. He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up fear and anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering in a gesture of reassurance. "I know, Maybank," he whispered, his voice steady and unwavering. "I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?" you asked, almost in disbelief.

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. The comfort of his embrace, his steady presence, was grounding you. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you strength. After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[theadventuresofgarlandodra]

The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- A Stolen Grave

Prev.

“Hey, Garl! It’s a mini-you!”

Odra pulled faces at the small statuette. “Grrrr, I’m a big, mean, emotionally constipated gargoyle with a stupid ass name,” she teased.

Garl sighed. “Hilarious. That one looks like you. Ugly enough at least,” he said, pointing at another hideous statue.

Odra gasped in mock offense. “Bitch, I’m beautiful. There is not a sculptor skilled enough to capture my face to stone.”

“Are you two going to buy something or am I going to have to ask you to leave my store?”

Odra rolled her eyes before looking up at the cranky craftsman. “I’m deciding! Honestly, does a blanket on a ground and some really ugly statues count as a store?”

The craftsman scowled. “These creations of mine are not ‘ugly’, they are defenders of the home! Now buy one or leave!”

Garl rolled his eyes too before looking down at one of the pitiful little statues. “You’re an embarrassment,” he whispered to one of the still gargoyles before he picked Odra up and placed her on his shoulder. “Come on, Odra. Dullahan asked us to get him some herbs, and that vendor’s only here in the morning.”

Odra propped her head up on Garl’s. “Fiiiiine. Can we stop at that one preserves vendor too? They told me last time they were making a new batch of radish pickles and I have to get some.”

“As long as you buy it with your own gold and you’re not up all night farting, I don’t care.”

“I’m so over your fucking shit.”

“I have to share a room with you. I’m the one who’s over your shit. It’s bad enough you only bathe once a month, I don’t want to deal with you ripping ass.”

Unluckily for Garl, Odra bought two jars of radish pickles along with dried meat covered with spices he’d never even heard about before. Apparently, if it didn’t hurt her, it wasn’t spicy enough. But those herbs Dullahan needed were thankfully in a large supply.

“Why are you Dullahan’s errand boy anyway?” Odra asked on the way back as she loudly chewed on her jerky.

“If you keep chewing in my ear, I’m going to rip your tongue out and stuff it down your throat. And I did it because he’ll… owe me a… favor…”

Odra frowned as Garl trailed off and came to a dead halt. “Garl? You okay?” She followed his line of site to see he was looking at the gargoyle vendor. “Garl?”

Garl didn’t say anything. He just stared as the vendor showed off an impressively sized statue to some clearly well off clientele. It was much better than anything else he’d had to sell, it almost looked real with how it was crouched, its head bowed over its knees. Any second it looked it could jump up and attack.

“Wow, why didn’t he have that out earlier?” Odra whistled. “It almost looks real-”

“Odra. Be quiet for a few minutes. Please.”

Odra never shut her mouth so quickly. It was one thing when Garl casually threatened to horribly murder her, but when he said ‘please’ it was time to shut the fuck up and listen to him. Garl slowly approached the back of the crowd.

“-how did you make such a beautiful piece?” one of the ladies cooed, reaching to touch the life sized gargoyle on the face. Garl noticeably flinched and Odra frowned. Was he upset?

No. There was something too calm about him. Like the time this bandit called Odra Garl’s little sex doll and had made nonstop innuendo about how female goblins were down for anything.

Garl was enraged.

“Well, what can I say, when you’ve been carving for so long, you can really bring some of this stone to life,” the vendor chuckled, puffing himself up. “This is my masterpiece. But for you my dear, I’ll let you purchase my art for… how does three thousand gold sound?”

Before the woman could respond, another of the wealthy men butted in with, “I’ll pay five thousand! It’s exquisite!”

Garl remained still as the two rich fucks bid between each other. Finally the woman won with a final bid of fifteen thousand gold. She promised to come tomorrow with a cart to pick it up, and the group dissipated. Garl walked off as well, and Odra finally got the guts to talk again.

“Garl? What’s wrong?”

“… it was a real one, Odra.”

Garl’s voice was low but level. Odra gulped. “A… real one?”

“A real gargoyle. Like me.”

“Why… why wasn’t it-”

“It was dead.”

Garl randomly veered into an alley and Odra leaped off his shoulders. Just in time too, Garl roared and slammed his fist into a wall, putting his hand right through brick. Odra shook as Garl took several deep breaths and withdrew his fist.

“You don’t… you don’t mess with a grave like that. Especially not a gargoyle’s.” His head was bowed but Odra could see how his eyes were flickering brighter than she’d ever seen them. “Our graves are sacred. You know how rare it is for a gargoyle to die of old age? And he had to have, there’s no chips, no breakage. His grave would be venerated. Moving him… moving him is… I wanted to rip that bastard’s arms off and make him choke on them.”

Odra gulped before slowly approaching Garl, resting one of her hands on his leg. When he didn’t bat her away, she softly patted him. “Why didn’t you?” she asked.

“… Because he needs to tell me where the hell he stole that gargoyle so I can put him back.”

Garl took a deep breath before he scooped Odra up, ruffling her ears before putting her back on his shoulders. “I’m gonna need some back up. You in?”

Odra grinned.

“Please. You really have to ask?”

Garl smiled coldly before walking out of the alley.

“Good.”

He was quiet the rest of the way to the guild. Once they got in though, he veered right over to Dullahan’s table, where the human was currently hacking and coughing like he had something caught in his throat.

“Dullahan-”

Dullahan lifted a finger, and with one final gag he spat out what looked like a small stone. “… I’ve coughed up bigger, but it’ll do,” he gasped. He picked up the stone, wiped some bile and saliva off of it and put it in his healing pouch.

Odra hopped off of Garl and onto the table. “What the fuck was that?”

“Bezoar.”

“You just- make those? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“It’s a gift.” Dullahan shrugged. “They make great poison cures.”

Garl slammed the herbs down on the table. Dullahan blinked owlishly at the bag. “… You know, you should be more gentle. People are going to talk about what we have,” he said as he picked up his cup of tea and took a slow sip.

“Remember how you said you’d ‘owe me’ if I ran to the vendor to get these for you?”

Dullahan paused before slowly lowering his mug. “I remember. What’s on your mind, my stonehearted friend?” he asked.

“I need your help to steal a body.”

“… Wow. Okay then. In.”

~*~

It was late in the night when that cart vendor weaved his way out of the tavern, with a lovely half orc courtesan on his arm. No more lonely nights for him, with the money he was about to make off of that stupid statue he found.

It was only when the half orc turned the corner into an alley where that gargoyle from earlier was waiting for him did he get an inkling he may have fucked up.

“This the guy, Garl?” Besh asked, gesturing at the drunk vendor with her thumb.

Garl nodded. “Thank you. I’ll pay you next time I find myself in Fit For Kings,” he said.

Besh winked before shoving the vendor into the wall and strutting out of the alley. The vendor scrambled to his feet but when he turned back to the mouth of the alley, Sylvia and Odra were already blocking his path. Turning back forward, he was face to chest to Garl, who spread his wings menacingly.

“You know, my kind don’t make great long distance fliers.”

Garl grabbed the vendor by the shoulders, digging his fingers into his shoulders with a manic expression. “But I can definitely lift you high enough in the air to drop you on your head, crack your skull like a fucking egg on the pavement,” he growled.

“Wha- let me go! Do you know who you’re messing with!? Guar-”

Before the vendor could call for the guards, Dullahan slapped a hand over his mouth. “Shhhhhh… don’t speak. Garl, that’ll kill him too quickly. Get him on the ground. I have an idea. By the way, scream, and he’ll probably just take your head off. Make all of this worth his trouble.”

Garl pinned the vendor down while Dullahan dug through his bag. “Let’s see… no, not that one… not that one… oh, here we go!” he pulled a leaf out of his pocket and crammed it down the vendor’s throat. The vendor coughed and gagged but he swallowed it.

“What was that?!”

“Poison!” Dullahan proudly declared. “You have a few minutes before it kicks in. You’ll feel some nausea, followed by every muscle in your body going really tense as you seize up. You’ll probably- no, you’ll definitely piss your pants. You’ll start hallucinating while your heart beats out of control. You’ll be in probably the worst pain of your life and you can’t even scream because your muscles are all contracting. Then your limbs will start to harden, your blood will turn to poison, aaaand you’ll die a slow, painful death. Once the pissing happens, I can’t help you. You’re past the point of no return. So, how about you tell Garl whatever he needs to know, and if I think you’re lying, I’ll just let him stuff you in the garbage bin to be dumped outside the city tomorrow.”

“What is it?!” The vendor sobbed. “What do you want to know?!”

Garl grabbed the vendor by the chin. “Tell me. Where. You. Got. The. Gargoyle. Body.”

“What?”

“The statue that was way too good for you to have carved? Yeah, that’s because it’s a body.” Garl’s fingers started ripping into his chin. “Where did you get it?”

The vendor sobbed. “I- I found it! I found it in the Underdark, the domain that currently is under the rule of the Great Queen Rillana! Please don’t let me die!”

Dullahan glanced up at Garl. “You know the Underdark very well, Garl?” he asked.

“Well enough. You going to cure him?”

“I mean, I’ve never seen all the effects of that herb, I kinda wanna watch…”

The vendor bawled.

“Okay, fine. Open up. I made this one fresh today!”

Dullahan popped a bezoar out of his pocket and forced it down the vendor’s throat. Odra shuddered and turned away.

“Okay, that’s nasty.”

Sylvia cocked an eyebrow. “… I’ve seen you eat a squirrel off the side of the path that had been dead no less than a week and had been squished by multiple carts. And that’s too much for you?”

“It is! He puked it up! Ewww!”

Garl hauled the blubbering vendor to his feet. “All right, now all you have to do is give me that gargoyle, and I’ll leave you be to sell your shitty statues. You tell anyone about what’s happened though, and I’ll not only have my friend here give you another one of those herbs, I’m going to cut off your legs and let you dangle off a rooftop while you die from the poison. Got it?”

The vendor nodded frantically.

“Good. Hope you didn’t blow through all that gold, because I’m pretty sure your customer’s going to be disappointed they can’t add a dead body to their collection.”

~*~

“… Dullahan, are you still-”

“You called me a friiieeennnd…”

“Oh my gods.”

Odra stared at the still gargoyle grave, seemingly lost in thought. She rested a hand gently on its side. “So, we take it back?” she questioned.

Garl looked away from the dramatic Dullahan. “I have to. You don’t disturb a gravesite, Odra. It’s wrong,” he said.

Odra laughed quietly before patting the grave gargoyle and hopping back onto Garl’s back. “Well, you can’t get rid of me that easily, Garl. You have a horrible sense of direction, you’re so going to get lost in the Underdark.”

Garl sighed but gave Odra an affectionate pat. “Keep telling yourself that, brat,” he said.

Dullahan scooted up next to Garl. “Are any of your other ‘friends’ invited on this journey?” he asked.

“I swear to every god masked and unmasked, Dullahan, I will kill you.”

Next

[bakeryblood]

Family Video Called

Eddie Munson x Male Reader

Fluffy, indulgent short for me and my mutuals who love the movie

Eddie slammed the stack of movies on the counter as Robin stared him down, a bored look on her face as she chewed the same piece of gum she had been for her entire six hour shift. “Sorry Munson. Can’t do it.”

“Oh no, that’s bullshit. I paid my fee for the last broken one— AND a new VCR because I’ll have you know my machine didn’t just eat the tape it died because of it. So really I should be holding you two accountable.” He pointed to Steve and his partner in crime who tossed his hand up as if telling him to get the hell out of the store before turning back to the blonde he was chatting up.

“As funny of a story as that is, Family Video and all its employees cannot be held accountable for any and all VCR indigestion incidents.” She popped her gum before continuing. “The reason I cannot rent you these is because you have had our only copy of labyrinth checked out for the past..four weeks.” She pointed to her monitor and Eddie practically leapt over the counter to get a look before simply walking around and reading for himself.

“Hey, hey! No customers behind the counter!” Steve shouted at him and garnered himself a middle finger as Munson repeatedly checked the name, address and sure enough the date of check out. Robin shoved him out of the way and waved up the next person waiting in line.

“Outstanding balance Eddie, there’s a lot of other people who’s eyes are starving, hungry, to get a glimpse of David Bowie in that silver bodysuit— $2.75 please.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ rent that Robin! Shouldn’t you know that, you two are here literally every day!” He pulled on his jacket in frustration before taking one last longing look at the stack of tapes sitting where he left them.

“I don’t even remember the last time I ate, Munson. Please just..” Robin looked up from the register to see the young man with the fluffy hair had taken his leave before she even had a chance to order him out, the glass front door slowly falling shut on its own indicating some had just very quickly exited.

Slamming the door of his van perhaps a bit too hard he gave it a momentary look as if waiting for it to fall off it’s hinges onto the ground before heading inside his trailer. He wasn’t mad that you had found something to do while he was at school in between your shifts at work now that his uncle was working days.

It had starting to weird him out when he’d come home and you would be listening to oldies and cleaning like it was your favorite or should he say, only, hobby. While his uncle sat in his favorite chair drinking a freshly brewed cup of coffee. He’d have to pull you into his room before Wayne could start in on him about how ‘THIS is how you make a good cup of coffee’, to explain that you didn’t need to clean while you were there. You didn’t need to make his uncle coffee. You were helping out on the bills, your time off should be spent relaxing.

He was mad at the past due amount. It was a quarter a day with a three dollar late fee, math wasn’t Eddie’s strong suit but the computer didn’t lie. $28 for a movie he’d never even seen and frankly, didn’t want to for that price.

“Honey! I’m fuckin’ home!” He yelled through the trailer as unfamiliar upbeat music played as loudly as possible. He stomped towards his room where the sound was coming from and stood in the doorway, watching on as you bounced around the room dancing. He pressed himself against the wall as much as he could, holding his hair out of his face so he could continue to spy on you.

You spun and twirled, bouncing from foot to foot as you sang along with David Bowie for what had to be the 40th time since renting the movie. You hopped onto the bed and jumped up and down, turning around as you did until you opened your eyes finally catching your long haired boyfriend in the act. Except you didn’t immediately realize it was him in and the scream you let out made him more scared than you were. Grabbing his chest he came into the room and pointed at you. “Turn it off, now.”

You rushed off the bed and stood defiantly in front of the Tv and vcr, arms out stretched. “No!”

“Y/N! Four weeks? You had this for four weeks and never even told me?” He came towards you and you puffed out your chest as if that was going to do anything to Intimidate or deter him from getting that movie out of his house.

“No Eddie, please! Just one more time! I’ll pay the late fee!” He looked at you dumbfounded before wrapping his arms around you and readying himself to deadlift you if that’s what it took.

“You’re damn right you’re paying the late fee, I had to pull out the couch, looking in my uncles car and under the van seats to get the money to rent those movies.” He jingled the change in his jacket pocket after setting you down a foot away, that was the full extent of effort he was willing to put in.

“Just watch it with me one time, please? Then we can watch whatever you want and I’ll pay for those too..” Y/N pouted and moved to sit on the bed as Eddie stalled, thinking it over. Which his boyfriend noticed.

“Pretty good deal, huh?” Y/N perched up on his knees excitedly as Eddie turned back to him slowly. “It has goblins, faeries..things you love Eddie..” Consider him swayed. He walked around to the side and kicked his shoes off before climbing into the bed, expecting you to claim your spot next to him. But you stayed where you were.

As the movie progressed he slowly moved up to where you were, occasionally asking questions that pertained to plot he missed out on by bursting in a fourth of the way through.

“So she’s trying to get her baby brother back.”

“Yes.”

“Because David Bowie—“

“Jareth.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at you correcting him on that for what had to be at least the third time. “—Jareth, steals babies.”

You wiggled your hand as if to say he was half right before giving him a run down of how Sara offered him up because she was upset with her parents. “Doesn’t the baby taking seem a little..off to you?”

“How else is he supposed to fill a city with goblins?”

“There’s a whole fuckin’ city of those things?” Eddie had to admit, though maybe not out loud, that it was a very good movie. The creatures were very well made and he was finding himself becoming more and more enthralled with the idea of incorporating some of the character concepts into a campaign and seeing if he could get away with doing so.

“Plus he’s pretty hot in this don’t you think?” Okay. Fun is over. Eddie pushed himself off the bed and stretched in front of the Tv just as David Bowie had begun the ballroom dance sequence. “Eddie— Eddie move!” Your eyebrows raised up in an upset manner as he huffed and sat back down making the bed bounce.

“No, I don’t think he’s hot.” You quickly turned your face towards him shocked. You couldn’t believe it for a moment until you realized it, he was actually mad. Well, not mad.

“Oh my god Ed, you’re jealous!” He grinned at you and shook his head vehemently denying the accusation. “Don’t lie!”

“Yeah right Y/N, Aren’t we all jealous of David Bowie?” He replied dismissively.

“I can’t speak for everyone but you sure are.” You went back to watching with an even larger grin than you had previously held as Eddie brooded. He was jealous. But not because of his looks, he was jealous because of how you were dancing and singing. It was something you only ever did when you drank, always claiming to be too embarrassed to do it for him or with him so more often than not he’d take advantage of the situation and goofily dance with you if the two of you happened to drink together.

And here you were bullying him. “Why, think I should bleach my hair?” Y/N almost choked on their laughter as the image of him with platinum blonde hair flooded his thoughts in true ‘Poison’ fashion. Eddie slung his arm around the front of of them and took them down onto the bed.

“I could start wearing eyeliner more, is that what it would take for you to dance with me?” Y/N ceased his laughter and looked up at Eddie’s surprisingly serious face as his hair curtained around either of their faces.

“That’s what you’re hung up on? I just don’t—“

“You just don’t dance or sing because you think you’re ‘bad’ at it. Yeah, I know. But I saw you earlier, you sing really good..” Y/N struggles to lean up as his boyfriend still had him pinned, pecking him on the cheek. “As good as David Bowie?”

Eddie’s lips flat lined as he tried to think of the appropriate answer given how big of a Bowie fan you were. Insinuating that you could show him up might not be the way to go. Thankfully he didn’t have to as you finally rolled the two of you over. “Maybe just a blonde streak..” you teased and Eddie shook his head.

“Nope, all or nothing. I’m sure the kids would have a field day doing it for me.” Y/N began laughing again as he imagined them each going at a section of his unruly hair with handfuls of bleach mix.

“You’re hotter than David Bowie, okay?” Eddie popped up before attacking you with his hands.

“You just can’t stop lyin’ huh!” He tickled you and you squirmed, shouting out apologies as he went in on you relentlessly.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!!”

________________________________________

The light in the room was dim as flames from the candles strategically placed around swayed and flickered.

“As your group trekked the final mile to the outside wall of the great maze, the light woods begin to thin out. A long empty killing field dotted with crudely hacked stumps, stones, dust, the odd arrow, and a pile of bones is before you. Your horses whinny nervously and paw the ground near the forests edge unwilling to go further.” Eddie looks up from his notes, up over his dungeon master screen as he scans the groups expressions before continuing. “The battlements seem unmanned, and the killing field silent and uninviting, looking past them at the tall walls wrapping around there doesn’t seem to be a visible entrance, gate or otherwise.

What do you do?”

“We should have left the horses a mile back, there’s obviously something going on here and they’re just going to slow us down..” Lucas complained before Erica chimed in but not before giving her brother a annoyed look.

“Is there anything between us and the walls aside from the random garbage about on the killing field..” She rolled for perception and got a nine.

“A bridge lay out at half way, no moat nor water beneath it. You look up and down the ancient cracked stone masonry, moss happily flourished despite the lack of moisture in the air or ground.”

Erica held a smug expression as she looked over the rest of the party, still seemingly confused. “I go ahead of the others and cross the bridge.”

Lucas protested against this idea claiming that this is clearly a trap and this early on they cannot afford to lose their only Rouge.

“Lady Applejack crosses the bridge despite Sundars’ pleas for her to reconsider, his calls for her seeming to fade away as a thick mist forms, clouding her field of vision. She is no longer in the killing fields and her party is long gone. She is in a swamp where aged and crooked trees with branches that seemed to be reaching for her grew scattered, narrowly avoiding the brackish green water.”

“Uh, Lady Applejack is going to turn her ass around and go back for the others..”

“Alright hold the hell up—“ Gareth stands up from his spot at the long table and advances on Eddie who quickly covered his DM notes as best as he could. “Is this a fucking Labyrinth based campaign plot?”

“Hey! Let’s try to not break the Immersion you ass, I also have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Dustin laughed before standing up and pointing at his older friend. “Ah ha! I knew you were a liar but know I really caught you! You think Steve didn’t tell me about how you held that movie hostage basically?”

“The Labyrinth? Like with David Bowie?” Erica questioned, Lucas looking more confused than she was. Tiger Beat kept her pretty up to date on the androgynous man’s whereabouts.

“Alright, cut! This is not based on the movie this is all out of my own goddamn head—“

Eddie slammed his hands on the table before raising one finger up to tap it against his skull. “Got it? I didn’t spend hours working on this for you to start heckling me.”

Dustin and Gareth return to their seated positions and the younger boy leaned over and whispered to the other. “This is totally Labyrinth based..”

“Totally, never letting him live this down..”

[estrangedaframian]

smolcuriouskitten:

Her heart was beating so fast. Not because of her being nervous, no no, it was because of how sweet he was being. Shes heard stories of how ruthless the king was, how he would take everything and stomp whatever you had left and spit on it. But here he was in front of her, making her swoon and feel comfortable, this she didnt expect at all.

She began to think about how he would be when hes angry. If he has a temper or if hes just doing this for show.

Then his next words made her calm again. She had the first name basis of the king. She could feel the tears running down her face which she quickly wipes away. "Okay. I will." She said with a content smile, trying to keep herself from crying.

He gave his viewpoints on peasants and himself. Was someone listening to her prayers up there? She was falling for him deeper and deeper but found herself backtracking, not wanting to get too excited. But he proves himself so far to be very polite, handsome, and loving. He could just be doing it for show. But she nods her head to acknowledge his words, showing she was listening despite how flustered she was. As she was mid bow, she felt his hand gently pull her up.

She looks at him confused for a moment, since he was the king after all and she would hate to upset him! But to her surprise, he held her with a soft touch and spoke through his heart. Her eyes widen and she was sure he could feel how fast her heart was beating. She was flustered to no end!

Her face turns red and she nods, biting her lip and chewing at the flesh for a moment. "Im not sure if I was allowed to laugh or not or give you a hug! I havent asked and it made me nervous!" She chirps, hiding her face with her free hand. God by the end of this shes gonna be a little strawberry!

She gasps loudly as he confirms that the clothing was hers and she squeals happily. "Yay! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!!" She squeals louder, hugging him tightly.

*****

Looking around at the beautiful architecture and the well kept yard, she was mesmerized by the wonders of the castle and its size. So much to explore and see! So much to do!

She nods with his directions of the castle, looking as he points to different areas. She pouts as he explains the boringness of his mundane routine, tilting her head. She would love to do something like that, just sit in a room and do king like things instead of sewing dresses all day.

"Well now you will have me there to keep you company! I would hope to be by your side as much as I can." She responds with a smile, starting to just enjoy his company. Despite how cold his words seemed, she understood what he was saying despite that. She knew it wouldnt be a good idea to roam around without him. Hell, she didnt look like she belonged for christs sake!

With another nod, she blinks as he continues on. A subtle head tilt and her eyes began to fill with tears again. Then he got down on his knees, this felt like a proper proposal! She couldnt stop shaking and she nods happily, getting on his level and hugging him. "No no I wouldnt dream of leaving you! Yes I would love to have you court me! Oh goodness, you are gonna make me into a sobbing tomato if you continue such flattery!" She cried, holding onto his garments tightly. "I would be honored to have you as my husband, my one true love. My only love. My love for now and all of eternity. Your kind words know no bounds and I hope to make you just as happy as you have made me in such a short time." She rambles, pulling away briefly to wipe her tears. She didnt wanna get them on the young royals clothes, even if they werent fancy.

“… Goodness, I… I feel as though I’m in a daydream…” Dean wanted to cry, let it all out, but as king he knew he mustn’t. Not only that, but he didn’t want his… He felt faint at the words ‘true love’… Yes, calling her that won’t do. Not at a moment like this! Dean knew how difficult it was for Rockelle to navigate this foreign environment and he hoped to be her strength during the adjustment period. That, and as she so sweetly put it, for all of eternity.

“Perhaps one day I will try to put my gratitude into words, but for now I hope you will trust it is there all the same…” Gently grasping her hand, Dean helped Rockelle to stand with him, then kissed the top of her hand when they were upright once more. “By the time we are married, we’ll be like old friends,” he whispered, practically delirious from how well the two of them were getting on. Perhaps if he kept his voice down, directly opposing his heightened spirits, his respectability might remain intact.

“Where would you like to go from here, my darling? There’s the servants’ wing, for when they aren’t serving… The entertainment wing, where we have shows and dinner parties and things, and then of course there’s the family wing, which… Well, it’s completely private, for the most part, and it’s where…”

He’d mentioned Rockelle having her own room but it wasn’t until now that he thought of the two of them in that oversized bed together, sleeping side by side. Or doing other things, perhaps.

“Please, nevermind. I suppose it shall speak for itself, when the time comes.”

Months ago, in preparation for the wedding, he’d sent his men into town to bring back all sorts of barriers and locks. The express purpose of these items was to keep out of his bed, whatever bride was chosen for him then.

Now staring into Rockelle’s eyes, he wished to send someone to remove the setup immediately, and yet he was afraid. If these proceedings were to reach Rockelle’s ears, than she would believe him a scoundrel—eager only for her flesh. Leaving the locks could also prove problematic, however, appearing as though she were unwanted.

"I-I have a bit of a confession to make, if you'll hear me..."

starter for @estrangedaframian if you like it than you should have put a ring on it!

Keep reading

[messers-moony]

King and Queen | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Fem!Potter!Reader, James Potter X Fem!Twin!Reader

Summary: James goes through a lot during his time at Hogwarts but his sister is always by his side.

Inspiration: Click

A/N: If this comes off insensitive to anyone please let me know and I will remove this.

James Potter was a handful. From the minute he was born, he had this gleam in his hazel eyes that raged and burned with trouble. His twin, Y/n Potter, was almost the opposite. The soft smile that laid on her features and the glitter of calamity in her eyes. Euphemia and Fleamont were in for a lot the minute their twins were born. 

Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder is most comparative to having a web browser up with one too many tabs. James had always been unable to focus and was naturally messy. Truth be told, he thought it was normal, just as everyone else did. It wasn’t until his second year at Hogwarts did he realize something was genuinely wrong with him. 

Remus told him that he had this muggle thing called “dyslexia,” which was a difficulty in interpreting words, letters, and other symbols. However, it never affected his overall intelligence because everyone knew that Remus Lupin was indeed and wholly brilliant. It got James wondering, did his inability to focus, be organized, and hyperactivity have a deeper meaning?

His twin - Y/n - was quite the opposite. She made quick friends with Remus, Sirius, and Peter, who were close friends of her twin. Y/n was top of their class, creating a friendly competition with Remus, but she was always able to focus. Often she would hyper-focus, which would leave her working for over five hours at a time without realizing it. In those times, James would have to snap her out of it. 

Over the summer, James expressed his concerns to his parents. He was talking about how this could be a real issue he’s facing using Remus’ dyslexia as an example. Eventually, they gave in, letting James go to a muggle doctor. James had to fill out a questionnaire that would come back with his results in one week. That week was probably the longest week of his life. Nonetheless, his test results had come back positive. 

Fleamont and Euphemia would be lying if they were surprised. After hearing about the disorder, it was almost the definition of their eldest son. Fortunately for James, the muggles had come up with a cure - no, not a cure - dammit, what was it again?

Impede the symptoms! That’s what those muggle pills do. James was required to take two pills a day, one in the morning and once at night. Y/n was in charge of making sure he did so because - more times than he’d like to admit - he would forget everything if it wasn’t for Y/n. 

In third year, James was as energetic as ever while getting on the Hogwarts Express, “Aren’t you excited, Y/n?!”

She chuckled, “Yes, but Merlin, you don’t need to literally jump with joy.”

“But I’m excited!”

“I know that.”

They made their way to the compartment that held Remus, who was reading a book. James sat in front of him while Y/n took her seat beside Remus, “‘Ello Remus.”

“Hey, Potter pair.”

Y/n sighed, and James groaned, “That nickname needs to go away.”

“I quite like it.” Remus stated smugly, “Suits you both.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Y/n accused falsely, “It means that wherever one of you are, the other isn’t that far behind.” Remus replied. 

James had zoned out already, and Y/n snapped in his face, “Take your pills?” 

“Forgot.” James muttered guiltily, “Oh Godric.” She whispered. 

“Pills?”

“James went to a muggle doctor this summer.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Did you now?”

“Got diagnosed with ADHD.” James informed, and Remus looked amiss, “Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of that.” Remus said, and James smiled sheepishly, “I feel kinda odd, like out of place.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, just, why can't I be normal?”

“You are normal, James.” Y/n reassured, “And anyone who says differently obviously doesn’t care about you.”

The compartment door slammed open, “Who doesn’t care about who?”

Remus snorted, “Ever the dramatics, huh, mate?”

“‘Course.” Sirius flopped down beside James, “It comes with my charm and devilishly good looks.”

“Ah, yes.” Y/n said, chuckling, “Don’t you see how I’m swooning for you?”

The back of her palm was against her forehead, “Come off it.” James swatted at her and then elbowed Sirius, “Better not make my sister swoon.”

Sirius chuckled and shrugged, “Can’t help it. I’m just that irresistible.”

The four of them laughed at Sirius’ dramatics and continued talking about the new term. Remus and Y/n were talking about books they couldn’t wait to read. Remus was even kind enough to gift her some muggle books he bought over the summer holiday. Sirius and James bickered about what pranks to do this year, along with which ones were better. 

Third-year was fun. It was a year of flooding corridors, turning Slytherin robes red and blasting music in the common room after a Gryffindor victory. James was a brilliant Quidditch Chaser, and Y/n was a fantastic Seeker. Nothing was quite like the Potter pair. Something about them was just unforgettable. 

Maybe that’s why Sirius was so fond of her. Something about the Potters made people around them smile on the hardest of days. They made sure that every moment was a night to remember. Every memory was worth reliving. So adventurous, so reckless, yet so kind and loving. 

By the time fifth year rolled around, Sirius Orion Black had fallen off a cliff into a lake called love. Sirius completely submerged himself in love for Y/n Potter. The younger twin by just 20 minutes, but something about her was so divine. Was it her silk and glittering h/c hair? No - maybe it was her gleaming e/c eyes. Perhaps it was for her strive for adventure and extreme kindness. 

Nonetheless, Sirius fell hard.

And who better to tell than James Potter himself?

Causally - as usual - Sirius opened the door to the Marauders dorm. It was empty aside from the brunet boy with glasses on the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes were focused on a textbook - Potions textbook - maybe it was to impress Lily. Sirius couldn’t care less, so he pulled the chair out in front of the desk and sat before James. 

“Mate, I need your help.”

“Running from Filch?”

“No. Something- Something worse.”

“Something worse?” The textbook shut loudly.

Sirius nodded, “Way worse.”

“Alright then, come into my office.” James teased, and Sirius grinned. 

It was silent, “I’m in love with your sister.”

James sputtered, “Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with Y/n.”

“No, no.” James waved his hand horizontally, “I heard you.”

“Then what else would you like me to say?” Sirius asked. 

“Literally anything else.”

“Sorry, mate.” Sirius muttered, “I- I really didn’t mean to.”

James chuckled and wiped his hand across his face, “I suppose you can’t really stop love, huh?”

“You really can’t.” Sirius agreed, “I tried. I promise I tried.”

“It’s not that big of a deal late.” James assured, and Sirius looked at him with wide eyes, “I trust you just-“

“Just?”

“I’m worried about her.” James completed, “I- I worry about her every night.”

Sirius softened, “It’s like you with Regulus-“ James continued before Sirius could interject, “And don’t pretend. Your silencing charms are bloody terrible.”

“I know you still care for Regulus, you worry about him every night, and I do the same for Y/n, except my silencing charms are better.” James teased sightly, “I trust you, Sirius. You’re the brother I never got but always wanted. You know, the brother I can play Quidditch with, rough around with, the brother who’s just as sneaky and mischievous as I.”

“But Y/n is still my blood. She's my twin, my best friend, my partner in crime. She was the mind behind my pranks before Remus.” James elaborated and then smirked, “Remus and Y/n make a great team, ya’ know?”

“They are quite brilliant.”

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, take care of her?” James looked like the eleven-year-old boy again, “Don’t make her a fling and don’t make this temporary.”

“Y/n is a strong woman, and she isn’t for weak men. I’ll be honest,” James chuckled, “She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t even really need me. I need her more than she needs me. Regardless, take care of her. She deserves a man worthy of her. Someone that’ll get her ice cream at 4 a.m. because she’s craving it. Someone that’ll go on sporadic trips with her. Someone that’ll understand that after a hard day, all she wants is a book and coffee.”

Sirius was appalled; he’d never seen James look so passionate, “Growing up, mum always told me to be a gentleman. I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but she always raised me as one. To hold a door for them, push and push in their chairs for them, give them my jacket even if I’ll freeze.” 

“Those kinda things. Dad said I should practice on Y/n, and I did. From then, Y/n always got treated like a queen, and she deserves no less. I won't lie, my parents treat me like a king too, and I don’t want any less either.” James explained, “Be the king that’s worthy of my sister.”

“That’s all I ask of you.”

Sirius nodded, “I’d be honored to serve her as my queen.”

“And if you show her no less, she’ll spit you out like chewing gum.”

He shuttered, “I hate how accurate that phrase is.”

James laughed, “I know her more than you think.”

By sixth year they were dating. Sirius would be lying if he wasn’t eternally shitting himself when Y/n said yes to going to Hogsmeade with him, alone, as a date. In fact, James almost wanted to throw him a party for finally not being a little bitch and asking out his sister. This party consisted of a bottle of firewhiskey and chocolate because that’s all that was in the boy's dormitory. But a party nonetheless. 

When Lily rejected James for the last time before graduation, he was utterly heartbroken. He’d spent and dedicated seven years of his life to this gorgeous woman. Despite all his efforts and all his charms, she still wasn’t interested. James tried. He really tried. He wanted Lily so bad. His heart broke when she said her final words of goodbye.

“I’m sorry, Potter. Maybe in another life, just not this one.”

Tears had ebbed at the corner of his eyes as he made his way back into the castle from the Black Lake. In the common room, where he felt like he had just got dowsed in water. James made his way to the girl's dormitory. His hand curled into a fist and knocked lightly on the wooden door. Shuffling was heard from the other side, and the door finally opened, revealing his sister. 

Without warning, James crashed into her arms, forcing his nose in the crook of her neck, “Woah.”

“Are you okay, James?”

His body shook with sobs as he shook his head no, “It’s okay. Let’s go lay down, okay?”

Gently she led him to her bed. He curled up beneath the navy blue comforter and placed his head on the silk pillow sheets. If he tried hard enough, he could forget the way Lily’s hair smelt today or the way her green eyes glistened in the sun. Now engulfed in his sister's scent, trying to remove every feeling for Lily possible, he dug his nose deeper into the comforter. 

Y/n sat beside him, her back to the headboard, and ran her fingers through James’ already untied hair, “What's got you so worked up?”

“It’s done.”

“What’s done?”

“L- Lily and I.” James choked, “She- She really doesn’t want me.”

A new wave of tears overcame him, and Y/n continued to try and soothe him, “Well, she’s a tosser.”

James narrowed his eyes, “James, you know I love her. She's my best friend, but if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, then she’s an idiot.”

“Can I- Can I stay here tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay at your dorm?” Y/n questioned, “Because you know who sleeps here.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Till the end.”

After a couple of minutes, Y/n and James made their way down the steps to the boy's side. They walked up more steps and finally made it to the boy's dormitory. James collapsed on his bed in the left corner of the room, and Sirius perked up at seeing his girlfriend enter the room. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, love?”

“Staying with my brother.”

Sirius nodded and stood up to hug her, gently pecking her forehead, “If you guys need anything, let me know, ‘kay?”

“Thanks, Siri.” 

Gently Y/n pulled back the maroon curtain and sat down beside him again. James reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. Something they used to do as kids. When a thunderstorm would go by, James would always seek sanctuary in his sister's comfort. 

He fell asleep that night, knowing he was safe, loved, and knew that someone cared about him. Even if Lily didn’t love him, at least someone else did. He had his boys, and he had his sister. Right now, that’s all he needed beside him: Screw Lily and her idiot decision skills. Y/n was right; she was a complete tosser. 

When Hogwarts was over, James and Y/n got a flat together. Sirius, Remus, and Peter got one only a floor above. Realistically this wasn’t the plan. James always planned to buy a house with Lily, but he was still healing, and after everything going on, it was vital for him to hold his sister close to him.

Euphemia and Fleamont barely lived to see their children graduate. Not too long afterward had died due to the horrid dragon pocks. It devastated both twins and Sirius. While Sirius wasn’t their true child, he very well could’ve. Euphemia noticed Sirius’s lingering stares on Y/n and the loopy smile that graced his features.

She was the one who got Sirius to man up. She was the one who gave him advice. She was the one who told him what books were her favorite, which chocolate she liked the best, her favorite quills. Euphemia was one of the main components in getting Sirius to date her daughter, and when it finally happened, the parents couldn’t have been happier.

James’ ADHD still remained even in his adulthood, making regular everyday tasks much harder and twice as long. Most of the time, the pills were able to help him complete those tasks. But sometimes, when Y/n wasn’t there to remind him, he would miss his days. When Y/n got home from work, she had barely taken off her shoes to see the apartment spotless.

It was a pleasant surprise, but James was never really one to clean, not that she really minded, but the apartment didn’t have a speck of dust on it. Hesitantly she put her keys on the island along with her bag.

“James!”

“Yes, Y/n?”

He appeared in the kitchen where Y/n was, “Um, did you clean the apartment?”

“Yes, I did!” James nodded enthusiastically.

Y/n sighed and gave her brother a sweet smile, “What did you not do today?”

“So, you know how you told me to go to the pharmacy?”

“Mhm.” Y/n nodded, “Indeed I do.”

“Well, they were out of my meds.” James informed, “I have to wait a week.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“On the bright side!” James was already causing her a headache, “It’s gonna be a fantastic week! I’ve got so many things planned for us! We’re gonna go-“

James continued to ramble as Y/n grabbed her keys, bag and slipped back on her shoes, “I’m going to Sirius’!”

“Thought you were my sister.” James faked pouting, and Y/n smiled, “I love you, but you’re crazy.”

“I love you too!” He yelled as she closed the door.

[tteokdoroki]

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s):  hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars,  inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning  forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing,  just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

[f1nalboys]

Okay, okay! So I love your poly!Ghostface dark/angst, but I wanna see you do some poly!Ghostface dark/fluff too(if that's a thing?)! Still unhealthy/toxic relationship, but one where their feelings are at least actually true and genuine. Trio vs the World shit. Best Friends to Lovers blah blah blah cause you know Im a slut for that lmao. NSFW too if you're willing 👀

AHH so glad I finally got to this request I'm sorry it took me so long :(( HOWEVER i had fun writing it!! i really hope you enjoy (ps, no smut unfortunately i tried to add it and it was coming out wrong ahhh) flashbacks are italicized! 

WORD COUNT: 2352

WARNINGS: toxic relationship, kinda cute moments between the three of you, cursing, little bit of stalking, threats of violence, no nsfw because i was a little lazy sorry :,(

Had someone told you five years ago that you'd be dating not only Billy Loomis but Stu Macher as well, you’d have laughed straight in their face. And yet here you were, curled up on the couch between the two, your legs thrown over Billys and your head resting on Stu’s shoulder, watching a horror movie. You smile softly as you feel Billy’s hand grip your thigh slightly. He never seemed to realize he was doing it which made it even cuter.

“Remember the day I met you guys?” You question, head moving off of Stu’s shoulder when he turns to look at you. He gives you a goofy grin and nods, kissing the tip of your nose. “Sure, baby. Why?”

“Did you think we would have gotten together? Like, back then?”

“Definitely,” Billy says, poking his finger into your side. You raise an eyebrow at him, catching his hand and holding it in your lap. He sighs, grinning slightly. “Alright, maybe not the day we met, but I knew pretty soon. Why? What’s got you thinking about it?”

You shrug, not really sure yourself. Something about the situation you three were in at the moment made your mind drift to those few awful god damn weeks. “You two really sucked then, you know? Honestly, I’m surprised I didn't kill you both.”

Stu gasps, throwing himself back with a hand on his heart. You roll your eyes; ever the dramatic. “You would have hurt us? I can’t believe this… the betrayal!” You elbow him and he sits back up, laughing, and wraps his arms around you, planting a few sloppy kisses onto your neck.

“We weren’t even that bad, babe.” Billy says, eyes widening as you glare at him.

“Not that bad? Do I need to remind you of the first thing you said to me when we met?” You shoot back, sitting up closer to Stu. You had already forgiven the two for how they acted then, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give them a hard time.

The first day you met Billy and Stu, it had started out good. You still didn’t have many friends but that was perfectly okay with you. You were sat in the grass outside one of the buildings where your next class was held, waiting. Thirty more minutes and you got to go to math; yay. You were leaned up against a tree, headphones in, trying to relax, when two men stood in front of you. They were pretty cute. One was tall, wearing a thin sweater and a goofy grin, while the other was shorter with dark hair and a smirk. The tall one's mouth moves and you pull your earbuds out, about to apologize for not hearing him, when the shorter one speaks.

“Pretty stupid to wait for someone to talk to you before taking your headphones out.” His smile was still there but it was clearly masking his annoyance. Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the gall of this dude. You don’t even know him and he thinks he’s owed a conversation?

“Excuse me?”

“What? You’re deaf and a bitch?” The taller one slaps the back of his head immediately and he grumbles, rubbing the soreness. You scoff, shaking your head, fuming. Was it just this dude or were most people here dicks? You didn't want to find out.

You stand, grabbing your bag and pushing past the two, heading towards the building. Your eyes instantly roll into the back of your head when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. “Hey, I’m sorry about him, really. That’s how he jokes and sometimes it comes across as mean. I’m Stu and he’s Billy.”

Stopping in your tracks you turn to face Stu, the taller one, and take a second to think of a response. Glancing over at Billy, who had finally caught up with you, you can see what resembles regret on his features. “Well, he didn’t come across as mean, he came across as an asshole.”

Stu laughs, nodding. Billy shrugs, giving you that same weak smile he had shown when he approached. You shrug your backpack up higher onto your shoulder, the weight of it starting to get to you, when Billy grabs ahold of it and yanks it off of you. “What the hell? Give me my shit back!”

“Least I can do is to carry it for you. You going to class?” He asks. It’s like he wasn’t taking no for an answer. You give a large sigh and nod, silently thankful for the weight off your shoulders. “Which building?”

“Sycamore.” He nods and begins to walk there, you and Stu trailing behind him. “Is he always so...?” You ask Stu under your breath, trailing off, unsure of a word that could describe the man. He grins and nods. “Annoying? Mean? Stubborn? Yes, yes, and yes.”

Billy groans at the memory, annoyed. He hated when you brought that up. “I told you I was just having an off day! Come on, you’re acting like Stu didn’t offend you too! Do you not remember when you got food with us, like, that night?” Stu punches Billy in the shoulder hard, pissed that he had brought it up.

“Oh yeah! I kinda forgot about how much of a dickhead Stu was,” You say, leaning back against the couch. It really was a shock your relationship with the boys got to where it was now.

Billy and Stu followed you around all day. It seemed they were trying to apologize for Billy’s attitude earlier but, if you were being honest, it was kind of unnerving. After your math class, where they had walked you inside the building and only left when the professor came in, you saw them waiting outside under the tree you had been at.

“Can you guys stop following me?” You had told them the third time you noticed them, this time at the small diner you stopped by after your last class. Stu’s face turned red and he looked behind him as if there was someone else you could be talking about. “Yeah, you two.”

“We wanted to apologize for earlier,” Billy said, motioning for you to join them at their table. You had to choose which one to sit next too and, after your not-so-pleasant meeting with Billy that morning, you sat next to Stu. He sticks his tongue out at Billy who rolls his eyes.

“You already apologized. It’s getting kind of creepy.” You say, placing your elbow on the table. Before the boys could respond, the waitress walks over, placing down their drinks. She flashes you a smile and takes your order, walking off with a sway in her hips, much to the boy's enjoyment.

Stu throws an arm over your shoulder and you shrug him off, ignoring the pained look he gives you. “We just wanted to make sure you really knew we were sorry! Billy here never acts right around a hottie,”

“Stu you fucking idiot.” Billy spits, throwing something at him. Stu laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Billy looks at you and gives you what looks like a real, genuine smile. “Sorry about him; he can’t seem to think with his upstairs brain.”

“Don’t need to when my downstairs one leads me to be sitting next to a smoke show,” Stu says, holding his hand out to you for a high five. Your face flushes and you ignore him, scooting away from him slightly. He was cute, sure, but way too forward. “What? Can’t compliment people anymore?”

“Not when your compliments are preceded by stalking.” You mutter, a part of you hoping he doesn’t hear it. Unfortunately, he does. You see his face change in your peripheral vision and your eyes flick over to Billy. He grins at you, sitting back in the booth, and taking a sip from his drink. He was enjoying this.

“Stalking? You’re fucking with me, right?” His rant is cut short by the return of the waitress who hands you your drink and places the food the boys had ordered onto the table, completely oblivious to your discomfort. She leaves and Stu grabs a fry from his plate, chewing loudly. “We’re not fucking stalking you - trust me, there are better ways to spend our time.”

Billy throws his balled up straw wrapper at Stu, catching his attention, and you let out a soft sigh of relief when Stu���s demeanor changes. He was back to smiling and laughing as if he hadn’t just been attempting to tear you to shreds. “Sorry about that… I’m pretty tired, that’s all.” Stu says, playing with his fingers.

“S’okay, I guess.”

“Why don’t you let us take you on a date? You know, as an apology?” Billy chimes in and Stu grins, nodding. A large part of yourself was screaming no. There was something off about these boys, something dark just under the surface, but you were intrigued. And so you smile.

“Yeah, I guess you two can do that.”

Billy had his arms wrapped around you, laughing at the excuses Stu was stammering out. He was obviously getting frustrated at the memory and you opened your arms to let him join in on the cuddling.

“You know, I really am glad we stuck together. I don’t know what I’d do if it were for our nightly cuddle sessions,” You say, your words muffled by Stu’s sweater. He pulls back and gives you a kiss, Billy swooping in to take one from him as well.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without our fuck sessions,” Stu hums and you groan, punching him in the shoulder. What a way to ruin the moment. “Wait, let’s not act like you were a saint in all of this! I remember you being pretty awful at one point.”

“What?! No way!”

Billy nods, tickling your sides for a second. “Sure were, babe.”

Two months into the relationship was your breaking point. You really did like, if not love, the boys and yet you were still an outsider. Walking into the shared apartment just for their whispered conversations to stop. Late nights spent in the living room with hushed voices while you tried to sleep. You felt as though you only knew a portion of the two people you had come to like; no, love.

You admit it was petty. It wasn’t the right thing to do in any circumstance, but you did it because you knew it would get a reaction. You had packed a bag and sat in the living room. You wanted them to see you leave. Wanted them to see how much their secrecy had taken. You had been together only a short while and yet you felt so at home with them that the idea of actually leaving, of breaking it off, nearly tore you apart.

The door opens and in enters Billy and Stu, wrapped up in their own conversation. Stu waves at you, carrying on before realizing what he had just seen. “Babe? What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” Your voice was confident, not a waver in sight, and you knew it was because you weren’t planning on leaving. Some would call it manipulation, sure, but you were backed into a corner. Stu’s mouth drops open and Billy stares at you, his eyes narrowed.

“What? What do you mean you’re leaving? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Stu rushes to sit down next to you on the couch, not wanting to accept the idea that you were leaving them on your own volition. His arms wrap around yours and you shove him off. “Babe?”

You shake your head, standing from your spot on the couch, grabbing ahold of the bag. Billy was still standing near the door, his arms crossed, watching you. “Don’t call me that. The two of you… It’s like I’m not even in this relationship. I’m an outsider with the two people I love and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” Billy questions, grabbing ahold of your arm when you try to walk past him. His voice is thick and you could see the vein in his forehead throbbing. He was angry and you hate to admit it but that’s exactly what you were hoping for.

For the next two hours the three of you talk about your relationship and the future of it. Stu cried, you cried, Billy sniffled a few times, and then you came to an agreement. No more secrets. They told you things that they hadn't told anyone before that they hid behind a vague threat of ‘once you hear this you’re stuck with us,’ and you told them things you had planned on taking to your grave. To say you weren’t shocked at what they told you would be a lie.

Murder wasn’t what you thought they were capable of and especially not murder so gruesome. But, oddly, you felt better about being with them. They trusted you, loved you, enough to let you know their biggest and darkest secret. And you loved it.

Knowing they wouldn’t hesitate to kill for you was a major turn on, which they soon found out.

“Wow, I really was kind of horrible, wasn’t I.” You mutter as Billy recounts the memory with a few interruptions by Stu. You didn’t remember it that way but the more they talked the more you could tell they were being honest. “Well, good thing we stuck together, hm? Would have been pretty bad if we hadn’t.”

“Yeah because we would have killed you,” Billy whispers into your ear and you shiver. He’s telling the truth and that’s what makes the relationship the way it is; they choose to be with you, to keep you around, to love you. “Yeah, we would have given you a call a while ago,” Stu says, his finger making a slicing motion across your neck.

You roll your eyes not because you don’t believe them but because you do. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[hysteria-entertainment]

INFATUATION PART 2

SUMMARY: After an icy encounter with Tan during the Intergalactic festival, LJs infatuation causes some tension within the group. 

Mentions Tan @ravebys and Kay @elektra-world​

A door slams shut and LJ was pushed towards a chair forcefully. The two figures practically holding him hostage stood in front of the study room door, arms crossed and faces pinched with anger. "What was that shit you pulled, Jaehwan?" Alexander growled.

Van stepped forward, chewing the inside of his cheek as he tried to choose his words carefully. "You embarrassed our group. And you disrespected a junior. Can you not let your fascination with Kay go?"

Alexander scoffed, rolling his eyes. "He has a thing for girls who are off-limits," he waves his hand in the air. "We went through this with Jihye, remember? And Jieun-Noona! You think you're hot shit, right?" He snaps.

There was a history between the two that left a sour taste in Alexander's mouth. The sneaky flirts and constant comments about Jihye had caused tension between the two members. And LJ even had the audacity to come at his own Hyung about dating another trainee at that time.

"Can't I just have a little fun, Hyung? There's no harm in it." LJ mumbles, not bothering to look his members in the eye. He was like a cat playing with a mouse.

"Don't be dumb," Van says, his voice raising an octave. "What you're doing is weird, bordering on sexual harassment. Do you really not see that? Why did you touch her after being explicitly told to back off?"

During the final artist performance at the festival, LJ had stood particularly close to her and at one moment, his hand brushed her back when he walked behind her. "I told you! She lost lost her balance and I was reaching out to stop her from falling!" He says loudly, the usual smug look on his face was gone. It was the truth - Kay's heel had hit a bump in the stage and caught her off guard. He instinctively reached out, not even thinking, and had no nefarious intentions.

Alexander sighs, sitting down before speaking. "Then why get all cocky about it to her boyfriend, huh? Do you get off on that crap or something?" He wanted to keep his cool but it was hard. All he could think of were the times he went around flirting with Jihye. Even after he found out the two were dating, he still made some comments to Alexander here and there.

"Its just harmless fun. That Tan is annoying and thinks he's all that."

Van snorted, rolling his eyes. "Hi-larious coming from the man whose ego is bigger than his own dick." Jaehwan tilts his head, a snicker leaving him as he leans back in his chair. The boys often ribbed each other like this so he took no offense.

"Jai is too nice to ever say these things to your face, so I'm taking the initiative right now: you're going to stop this crap. Stop messing with girls who deny your advances. Stop thinking you're hot shit who can make any woman leave their man. You're a better person than this and I fucking know it. I'm going to Yuri and the others about you because you need to be knocked back a few steps." Alexander was stern and his furious gaze dug into Jaehwan like hot fire pokers.

"What? You know what will happen of you do! We have a comeback soon!" He says, his voice raising in frustration and disbelief.

Van gives him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I know. It blows - but maybe use your time off to think about how you've been acting. How your actions affect others, yeah?"

Jaehwan huffed, growling softly as he stood up and began to pace. "You make me out to be a predator!" He yells, though shame was starting to consume him.

"You're used to fans accepting every little wink, thrust and flirt that leaves you. It's gone to your head. Not every woman wants that." Alexander says, surprisingly calm. "You ruined my relationship with Jihye, you know? Your advances made her so uncomfortable that I had no choice but to break up with her so you'd leave her alone!" It seemed foolish at the time, but LJ had only started moving in once he realized she was off the market.

"Hyung -"

"No," Alexander intercepts, standing up as the younger boy spun around, "I don't want anymore excuses. My mind has been made up. This is your final chance to redeem yourself otherwise you will be gone and we'll make sure of it."

The left Jaehwan standing there, stunned. He paced the room a bit more, releasing a frustrated growl before finally calming down and leaving the room a nearly a half an hour later.

It didn’t take long after that for him to receive a text from his manager demanding he visit the CEOs office at once.

[helloalycia]

lose you [three] // leigh shaw

summary: just when you think Leigh is finally listening to you and giving you space, she happens to do the opposite

warning/s: mentions of loss and implications of death/grief

author's note: so this is the final part! this was fun to write ngl – i hope you like the conclusion! :)

part one | part two | masterlist | wattpad

"I think the colours look great like this, don't you?" I asked Jules, pointing to the screen of her laptop

She hummed in agreement as she sipped her smoothie.

"Or maybe this...," I said, preoccupied with trying out something different. "Okay, hold on, let me see."

We were both sat in this smoothie place a few stores  down from her workplace, working on some more promotional material for another set of classes she was setting up.

"You know, we could easily do this at the studio," Jules commented in a knowing tone. "Or even at my house."

I glanced at her before looking back to the screen. "It's better this way."

She knew what I meant, so I knew I didn't need to elaborate. Ever since Leigh had finally gotten the hint and left me alone for the week, I'd been keeping away from her as much as I could, still trying to figure out what I was feeling. This also meant not going to her workplace or her house in case I bumped into her.

"So, you're not gonna tell me what happened between you and my sister?" Jules asked curiously, for the millionth time, leaning forward.

I scrunched my nose as I shook my head. "Not this time, Jules, sorry."

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "Leigh won't say anything either, so that's no fun..."

Not knowing how to respond, I simply kept quiet and continued to play around with the colour palette of the designs I'd put together. Jules watched over me, inputting her ideas every now and then and explaining her 'vision', before our time was interrupted with her phone ringing.

"Hello," she answered it casually, before continuing to speak to whoever. "...No, I've got one... no need! I'll pick one up for you."

I gave her a sideways glance as she looked the other way quickly, as if hiding something.

Her voice lowered as she continued to speak to whoever. "Yes, we're here..." She sighed. "She's fine, Leigh."

I rolled my eyes as I looked back to the laptop, trying to distract myself.

"Okay, I'll see you soon, bye," Jules mumbled before hanging up and looking back to me.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of us speaking as I clicked away on her trackpad. Figuring she wouldn't speak, I chose to.

"Was that Leigh?"

Looking down at her smoothie awkwardly, Jules nodded. "Er, yeah."

I shot her a look. "You know you can have a normal conversation with her. She is your sister after all."

Jules ran a hand through her hair. "Yes, I know, I just... I don't want to make you feel awkward."

"It's fine," I reassured her with a small smile, before looking to the screen. Unable to stop myself, I asked, "How is she?"

A pause, then: "She's good."

I nodded nonchalantly, though I was glad to hear. I wasn't heartless – I still cared about her. But my stubbornness, as Taylor liked to constantly point out, was keeping me from hearing Leigh out. Her words still rang clear in my ears, the implication louder than the words themselves. And then that made me angry all over again and I found myself in a constant cycle of needing space from Leigh and wanting to hear her out.

Trying to ignore my conflicting thoughts for the girl who wasn't even present, I continued to work on Jules' designs before she had to get back to work and so did I.

"Are you okay to come over tonight to finish those off?" she asked as I packed away my things.

I hesitated, chewing on my lip. The whole point was to avoid going to her house.

"I'll make sure Leigh isn't there," Jules promised, noticing my silence, before adding with a playful smile, "Or is that new promotion of yours too time-consuming for you to spend time with me?"

"You know that's not true," I told her with a suppressed laugh, before relaxing my shoulders and nodding slowly. "I... I guess I can come around for a little while."

"Only a few hours," she promised me.

I nodded. "Okay, sure. I guess I'll see you tonight, Jules."

She grinned. "Awesome! See you tonight."

—

I probably should have figured out that Jules was lying to me. I'd known her long enough to tell when she was playing me, but I must have been so distracted by everything that I failed to realise what she was doing until it was too late.

When I got to the Shaw residence that evening after dinner, Jules answered and let me in, promising that her sister and mum were out on a girls night so wouldn't bother us. That was the first major hint – Leigh hated spending 'girls night' with her mum.

Then, when I set my bag down in the living room, waiting for Jules to join me, I heard the front door slam shut.

Spinning around and staring into that direction of the house, I called after her. "Jules? You still here?"

Instead of Jules, Leigh stepped in the doorway, dressed in a jumper and joggers, hair messy but small smile on her lips. That's when I realised I'd been tricked.

"I'm out of here," I said instantly, grabbing my bag to go.

"No, please stay," she said pleadingly, taking a step forward, but stopping when she saw how much I didn't want to be near her right now.

"I can't believe you'd resort to such childish methods of trickery," I admitted with disbelief. "And just when I thought you were finally listening to me and giving me space."

She pressed her lips together firmly as I spoke, before saying, "You wouldn't have come if I'd called, Y/N. It was the only way to get you here."

"Of course I wouldn't have!" I said with frustration, hand on my bag strap tightening. "I didn't want to see you!"

"I know you didn't, that's why I left you tons of messages!" she exclaimed, before rolling her eyes bitterly. "Your stupid, love-struck assistant is clearly terrible at delivering said messages."

"You mean the assistant with the boyfriend?" I retorted with a glare.

Her eyebrows creased together with confusion. "She has a boyfriend?"

I groaned loudly before moving forward to leave. "I'm going."

Leigh's bitchiness dispersed as she realised what was happening. "Wait, Y/N– just wait!"

Ignoring her, I continued my approach to the door and pushed past her without sparing her a glance. I was afraid that if I did, I would say something I'd regret.

"Please!" she called after me. And I was a mere few centimetres from the door before she shouted, "I love you!"

I widened my eyes with surprise, wondering if I'd heard that right. Stopping in place, I turned around slowly and saw Leigh standing in the living room doorway with teary eyes and a quivering lip.

"I'm in love with you," she repeated, confirming my hearing. Green eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she continued, "I was stupid how I acted and I– I've treated you so horribly and you always put up with it. But not this time."

She paused, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she raised a shaky hand to move her hair from her eyes.

Swallowing hard, she said, "I p–push people away and I've pushed so many friends away, but y-you never left. You stayed this whole time a–and I've already lost so much, but I can't take losing you. I c–can't lose you, Y/N."

Forgetting my anger for a moment, I felt my heart ache in my chest as Leigh broke down before me. I'd seen her at her worst before, but this was different. She was choosing to be vulnerable and that never came easy to her.

"Leigh, I'm not going anywhere," I said gently, frown on my lips. "We're in a fight right now and I'm angry, yeah, but I would never leave you. Not for good."

"You say that!" she snapped, clenching her fists as more tears streamed down her cheeks. "You say that, but then blocked calls and wanting space turns into leaving because you can't take it anymore. You can't take me anymore. And I can't take it, I can't take pushing you away. I can't lose you."

She clenched her jaw, eyes piercing through me with sadness and guilt and anger all at once.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said, her voice softer and very unlike herself. "The kiss it– it scared me because I wanted to do it for a long time, but you're my best friend and best friends don't do that. So, I tried to forget about it, but I ended up blaming you in the process and it's not you who's at fault here, it's me. And because of that, you're going to hate me and leave and I'm going to be a–alone again and I can't do that again, n–not again, n–not–"

I drew closer to her and pulled her in for a hug, unable to take her hysterics any longer. It hurt too much, seeing her pour her truth out in such a volatile way that had clearly been building up for a while.

She cried as I held her close, pressing a kiss to her hair and rubbing her back slowly. I never meant for it to get like this. I didn't know that she was going through all of this turmoil and now I felt bad, even if she'd hate that I did.

"I'm not going anywhere, Leigh," I promised her, my own tears burning the lids of my eyes. "I swear. you're not going to lose me and I could never hate you. Don't even think that for one minute..."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I led her to the bench by the front door and held her close, not caring that her tears were soaking my shirt or that she was clinging so tightly that I would never be able to pry her off, not unless she let go by choice.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there, but her cries eventually turned into sniffles and her head found it's way onto my shoulder. My arms wrapped around her torso, still rubbing circles onto her back, and hers clung around my shoulders tightly.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered guiltily into my neck, her warm breath tickling the skin and sending shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard. "I know you are. I forgive you, Leigh."

She didn't say anything and I wondered why she was unable to let go and meet my eyes. Maybe it was easier to talk when we weren't looking at each other.

"I would never leave you, you know," I told her quietly, letting her know again. I'd let her know forever if it meant she'd believe me. "You can be such a bitch sometimes, but I put up with it because I love you, too."

She sighed. "But not like I love you."

I tried not to smile. "You're kidding, right? Of course like you love me. Why do you think I got so upset at your stupid date the other week?"

Finally pulling away from my neck, she faced me with confused eyes. "You said it was because I didn't reply to your messages."

I rolled my eyes. "It was because I thought that you didn't care about kissing me. I was scared that you didn't like me like that. That you thought you'd made a mistake." 

Her eyes flickered between mine, as if trying to understand what I was saying. Realisation passed through them as she stroked my neck with her finger, arms still laced around my shoulders.

"So, the kiss. You didn't– you don't hate me?"

I shook my head, squeezing her waist gently. "I don't. And if you'd given me a chance, I would've kissed you back. Properly. Like–" I sucked up a nervous breath. "Like you deserve."

She didn't say anything for a moment, eyes merely reading mine intimidatingly. For once, a rare instance between us, I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Now's your chance," she finally spoke, before capturing my bottom lip between hers in an instant.

Unlike last time, I got over my surprise quite quickly and closed my eyes, pulling her closer by the waist and returning the kiss. Her lips were soft and salty and addictive, and when she rested her hand on my chest to gently push me away after a moment, I immediately chased her lips down again, refusing to let her go so quickly. Not when I'd waited so long for this moment.

She gasped as I swiped my tongue across her bottom lip, asking for entry. Using that as opportunity, I slipped my tongue between her lips and met hers in the middle, revelling in the taste that was Leigh Shaw. It didn't go beyond that and that was okay, as I was too busy focusing on how perfect she fit next to me, my one hand on her waist and the other on the back of her neck.

Finally pulling apart for air, she rested her forehead against mine and I opened my eyes to be submerged in pools of green. Licking her lips, she breathed out slowly.

"I don't want to lose you," she admitted in a whisper.

Pushing her hair behind her ear, I rested my hand on her jaw and caressed it. "You won't. I told you. I'm not leaving you. Not now. Not ever. I promise."

She closed her eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

I realised she was probably thinking back to her late husband and I didn't blame her. She'd suffered through so much and I couldn't imagine the fears she had.

"I'll keep it for as long as I can," I told her, kissing her  forehead. "But know for sure that you won't be getting rid of me that easily."

She cracked a small smile through her teary eyes, nodding slightly. "I'll try to be less of a bitch."

"Hey, be as bitchy as you want," I told her playfully. "I'm not going anywhere, remember?"

She let out a small snort through her nose, barely a laugh, but it was music to my ears and it brought a smile to my lips. Finally opening her eyes, she looked to me with adoration and it made my heart beat a little faster.

"I love you," she said with the utmost sincerity.

I wiped away a stray tear of hers with the pad of my thumb and met her gaze. "I love you, too, Leigh."

Glassy eyes watched mine, content for the first time in a long time, before she pulled me in for a hug, tucking her head into my neck like it was her favourite spot in the world. I knew the feeling of her there was definitely mine.

"What do you want to do now?" I asked quietly, not wanting to break the peace we'd created.

"I'm really tired," she admitted, lips brushing my neck as she spoke.

I pressed a kiss to the side of her head, mumbling into her hair, "Let's get you to sleep then."

She hummed in agreement and I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd closed her eyes already.

"I want you to stay," she added. "To sleep with me."

Pausing, I tried not to laugh, which she realised and nudged me in the gut lightly.

"Not like that, idiot," she said, definitely giving me an eye roll even though I couldn't see her. "I mean, yes, eventually like that. If you want. But not now. Now, I just want you next to me."

Smile of adoration on my lips, I squeezed her gently. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I've got work in the morning. Early start."

She pulled away from me suddenly, frown on her lips and eyes flickering between mine disappointedly. I sighed, raising my hand and stroking her cheek.

"I'm kidding," I told her with a knowing look. "I mean, I do have work, but I'll stay if you want me to."

"Jerk," she mumbled, before standing up and pulling me up with her. "You're staying."

I kept ahold of her hand and intertwined our fingers, tugging her closer to me. She still seemed disgruntled from my joke, so I kissed her cheek, lingering for a second longer than usual, before smiling.

"Come on, grumpy pants."

She narrowed her eyes at me childishly, but continued to lead me upstairs and to her bedroom. As we walked, I remembered something.

"So, does Jules know about us? Since she helped you to trick me tonight?"

Leigh didn't bother flicking on the lights to her room when we entered, instead closing the door behind us and letting the streetlights from outside her window guide us to her bed.

"She knows we argued," she answered delicately. "I didn't know how to tell her about how I felt when I–" She sighed. "When I didn't even know how to tell you."

I nodded, not bothering to ask her about if she wanted to tell her tomorrow, or tell her mum tomorrow. Or if she wanted to wait and tell them later when we were settled into our relationship. I trusted her to talk to me when she was ready and there was no rush anyway.

"Jules is out with a friend tonight and my mum is working late," she explained their absence. "And you've slept over before so this is no different."

"True," I agreed.

A yawn escaped Leigh's lips and I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked when she stretched her arms and scrunched her face tiredly. When she finished, she opened her eyes and saw my expression.

"What's got you all smiley?" she asked with a quirked brow.

I shook my head dismissively as she grabbed some pyjama pants from her drawer. "You're too cute is all."

Groaning loudly, she said, "God, Y/N, don't do that. Don't be all couple-y already. Especially not when it's–"

"What?" I cut her off with amusement, as she threw the pants in my face. "Complimenting you?"

"Exactly," she said like it was obvious, before waving her hand with irritation. "Just take your pants off so we can go to sleep."

I chuckled. "Eager much?"

She groaned again, but I saw a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. As I changed out of my jeans, she got under the duvet and got comfortable. I joined her soon enough, just about pulling the duvet on top of me before she grabbed my arm and forced me to roll over and spoon her from behind.

I stifled a laugh as she entwined our hands, resting them on her waist, and sighed contently.

"So, guess I can't be little spoon tonight then?" I teased, making her kick me with her foot.

"My bed, my choice," she muttered, voice heavy with fatigue.

Settling in behind her, I put my leg between hers comfortably and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck where my head lay.

"I don't mind being the big spoon," I reassured her, though I knew it wouldn't make a difference. If Leigh wanted to be cuddled, that was the end of it.

It went quiet as I appreciated how pleasant it felt with her in my arms, her body pressed closely to mine and her self radiating a comforting warmth only she seemed to possess. I could definitely get used to this.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

She stopped, breathing out slowly. "Thanks for staying."

"Well, you asked so nicely and–"

"No," she cut me off quietly. "Thanks."

It took me a second to realise that she wasn't talking about just now. I smiled to myself.

"Always, Leigh."

[jungshookz]

what if y/n's friends come by for a surprise visit or smth and mr park is like right there, how would that work out 😟

:-) 

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader

➺ genre; balletteacher!jiminiverse!! smerhaps smut (slightly suggestive content!!!) also y/n’s not good at improv and it shows womp womp 

➺ wordcount; 2.4k

                                     »»————-　♥　————-««

“god, you smell good...” jimin murmurs against your neck, his fingers giving your hips a gentle squeeze before his hand slides down to hitch your leg up against his waist 

you’re so warm and so soft against him... 

he’s obsessed with you 

“you say that a lot.” you tease quietly, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft hair before tugging lightly, “we should probably get up soon... we can’t spend the entire day doing nothing.”

“well, we won’t be doing nothing-” jimin pulls away suddenly before pressing his forehead against yours, “we’d technically be doing each other-”

“what? oh my god, you are such a boy-” you feel your face flush immediately and you turn to the side so you don’t have to look at that cocky smirk on jimin’s face that never fails to make your tummy flutter 

“c’mon, pretty girl...” jimin purrs lowly, taking the chance to bury his face into the crook of your neck again before rolling his hips against yours, “i wanna make you feel good.”

the chains hanging around his neck tickle against your heated skin and your eyelids flutter when you feel jimin’s hand creeping towards your centre 

“i-” you perk up in alarm when you swear you hear the slight sound of the front door clicking shut, your brows knitting in concern as you stare up at the ceiling 

...and then you hear faint footsteps...

...and you’re pretty sure that’s the sound of giggling... 

...

what the hell

are there people in your apartment right now 

oh my god 

are there people in your apartment right now?! 

“oh my god-!” you immediately shove jimin off of you, wincing when he rolls off the bed and lands on the ground with a loud thump

oops

“ow-! what was that for??” jimin whines quietly, sitting up before rubbing at his lower back, “also, you are… so much stronger than you look-”

“sorry, sorry-!” you whisper, frantically pulling your shorts up your legs before grabbing a shirt off the end of the bed, “you need to-”

“party of five for miss y/n y/l/n! get your ass out here, girlie!”

"you know, i bet she’s still asleep-” 

you feel like you’re about to pass out when you hear lisa getting closer to your bedroom and you reach up to run a hand through your hair in panic 

“uh- no! no, i’m up!” you announce loudly before clearing your throat, “just- just gimme a second, lisa- don’t come in here because i’m, like, super naked right now-” you chuckle nervously before spinning around to face jimin (who’s still a little dazed from hitting the ground so hard and so fast, which explains why he’s just sitting there basically doing nothing), “jimin, hurry!”

“fuck, hold on- did you- did you know they were coming over today?” jimin hisses, scrambling up from the ground before pulling the sheets up around his hips so that his lower half is decently covered, “where the hell is my shirt…?”

“oh, yeah, i planned for them to come over the same weekend you’re here so we can all get together and i can tell everyone that mr. park was the one who gave me that hickey they saw last week-” you pause before looking over at your currently-denser-than-a-block-of-tofu boyfriend with wide eyes, “obviously not, jimin! you need to hide-”

“but you’re wearing m-”

you don’t give jimin much of a chance to say or do anything else before you’re grabbing him and basically shoving him into your open closet

“i-” he raises a finger and you shake your head, slapping his hand down quickly

“not a single word-” you warn, shoving your hand against his chest to push him in even deeper before abruptly pulling the closet doors shut

your bedroom door swings open right as you trap jimin in your closet and you spin around with a wide smile, pressing yourself up against the doors, “i’m not doing anything!”

“good morning, sunshine!” lisa chirps, her smile faltering as she takes in the state of the room, “uh…”

geez louise

she knew you were messy, but…

the blanket is drooping off the bed, your clothes are strewn everywhere (your panties are literally hanging off the lamp) - it looks like someone came in here and ransacked the place, if she’s being honest

“i’m doing some spring cleaning.” you chime in as soon as you note the look of concern on her face, “you know how it is! everything has to be super messy before it becomes super clean.”

“it’s… it’s nowhere close to spring, so i wouldn’t call it spring cleaning.” she snorts, crossing her arms before turning on her heel to look at you, “so, how much time do you need to get ready? the girls are waiting in the living room.”

“i, um- it’s just that i said…” you trail off, trying to find the right words to let her down easy, “you know, i did say that i wasn’t going to join you guys this weekend, so i will... not be getting ready... because i won’t be leaving the apartment?”

“oh, i know you said that, but… this is the second time this month that you’ve ditched us to hang out in your apartment by yourself! that’s why we decided to come and surprise you and drag you out instead!” lisa smiles, your heart skipping a beat when she starts to walk closer to you, “now, let’s pick out a cute outfit for you-”

“no!” you snap, slamming yourself up tighter against the closet doors, “no way!”

“woah-!” lisa stumbles backward in surprise before frowning at you, “jesus… what’s your problem this morning? god, you’re so jumpy-”

“i’m fine! i’m just- uh- i’m on my period so- you know how it is since you are also a human girl who has her period every month-” you cough into your fist before letting out a chuckle, “there’s just something about bleeding profusely out of your hooha that drives you crazy, right?! just girly things. so crazy. it’s wild.”

“what are you talkin- wait, what are you wearing?” lisa suddenly changes the subject and you frown before looking down at your-

?

oh 

oh no

this,..,., 

this is not your shirt

this is jimin’s shirt

and you’re pretty sure lisa knows this is jimin’s shirt because she made a comment last week about how nice and biteable his arms looked in it when he pushed the sleeves up

and yeah, one might think that all white t-shirts look the same and that there’s really no difference between them, but lisa pays special attention to detail and would be able to tell about fifty white t-shirts apart if she had to 

“a… white t-shirt?” you scoff playfully, trying to play it off and keep things super chill and super casual, “my goodness, you’re certainly a little ditzy before mimosas-”

“well, yeah, it’s a shirt, y/n, but...” she places her hands on her hips before tilting her head, her eyes narrowing into slits, “it looks so familiar and i can’t quite remember where i’ve seen it…”

you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously as she continues staring at you

god

you hate this

you’d very much like for a wormhole to appear and swallow you up if that were possible 

should you say something??

you’ve been quiet for too long

you should say something and change the subject so that she doesn’t have enough time to figure out that you’re wearing mr. park’s shirt because then that’d lead to a discussion as to why you’re wearing mr. park’s shirt and then that’d lead to oh, yeah, by the way, i’m in a relationship with our teacher and before you got here we were in the middle of having sex so it’d be great if you could leave-

“you know, you’re probably thinking about a shirt you saw in a magazine or something- i-” you’re cut off when seulgi suddenly wanders into your bedroom, immediately letting out a snort at the sight of your bedroom

“wow, y/n! i’ve heard of disorganised chaos, but this is a little much.” she whistles lowly before turning to face you, “what’s taking you freaks so long?”

“we were about to pick an outfit for y/n but- hey, does that shirt look familiar to you?” lisa asks quietly, seulgi leaning in a little closer before pursing her lips in thought

“mm… i don’t know. just looks like any old ratty t-shirt y/n would own. why?”

“ratty-“ you gawk, looking down at your shirt, “this isn’t ratty!”

“okay, miss fuzzy-legwarmers-”

“okay, you guys should probably leave because my cramps are, like, killing me-” you step away from the closet for the first time since lisa came in before gesturing for the two of them to go, “i promise i’ll come to brunch next week, but right now, i just need to be by myself-”

(and you know it would never happen but you hope the closet doors won’t spriNG open like they do in the cartoons when the closet’s been overstuffed)

“are you sure you don’t wanna join us? we’re going to talk about how yummy mr. park looked in class on friday-” seulgi turns to glance at you with a smirk as you continue to shove them down the hallway and back out to the living room, “and we all know how you just won’t shut up about mr. park-”

“hA, okay- very funny-” you chuckle nervously as you glance back towards your open bedroom door, hoping that jimin won’t be able to hear any of this 

you don’t need to embarrass yourself in front of him any further! 

“there’s no point in denying it, y/n!” lisa chirps, “you looooove mr. park and you just wanna sit all over that pretty face-”

“you know, i already know that i’m never going to live that down and you guys aren’t helping-” you grumble, shoving against their backs to get them to move faster, “you basically remind me of it every day-” 

“aw, c’mon! you know we’re only teasing, you wuss.” seulgi rolls her eyes, “besides, i wanna talk about how sexy his arms are, so if you come to brunch with us, i can do all the talking and the fantasizing on your behalf- do you think he’d be able to pin you down using one hand?”

you feel your cheeks flush because you happen to know the answer to that particular question (the answer is a big fat ABSOLUTELY he can)

“you know, i don’t know why you always get so quiet whenever we talk about him-” wendy chimes in once the three of you reach the living room, “this is a safe space! we’re all allowed to talk about how much we want mr. park to fuck us into oblivion-”

“i just feel like-” you choke, clearing your throat quietly before averting your gaze to the ground, “you know, he’s our- he’s our teacher, so… so it’s a little weird? to be talking about all the things you want him to do to you?”

also you’re dating him and it’s weird to hear about how much your friends want to fuck your boyfriend 

also they talk about him like he’s a piece of meat - and yes, you’re guilty of displaying the same behaviour sometimes - but it’s still not cool!! 

jimin’s so much more than just a (very) pretty face and a (very) fit body 

“you were the one who said you wanted to sit on his face-”

“yes, i’m aware- you know, i only said that to get seulgi to shut up- anyway!” you scurry over to the door and hold it open before gesturing for everyone to get the hell out of your apartment, “it was wonderful seeing you girls, but i’ll see you on monday at class-” you force a smile on your face and praY that no one is too suspicious of your very odd behaviour

you think you’ve done a decent job at keeping it cool so far... right? 

“fine. but we’re not going to share any of the details that we talked about as your punishment.” lisa shakes her head disappointedly as she adjusts her purse strap over her shoulder, “it’s your loss! you don’t get to dream about having sex with the most beautiful man on earth-”

you almost let out a snort but you stop yourself before it happens

you’ve never been one for bragging, but... you don’t have to dream about having sex with the most beautiful man on earth because you’re already having sex with the most beautiful man on earth 

(what you’re trying to say is that God has favourites and you clearly made the list) 

:-)

“well, that’s a consequence i’m just going to have to suffer with-” you push your bottom lip out in a pout before waving frantically, “goodbye, you guys-!”

you let out a breath of relief as soon as you slam the door shut behind you

holy moly

that was close!!!!!

that was TOO close

you and jimin need to have a better plan to prepare for this if it happens again

hopefully this won’t happen again but you can never be too sure... 

maybe you should take your spare apartment key back from lisa 

“are they gone?” you jump when jimin pokes his head around the corner and you nod before shooting him a thumbs up

“yes, thank god- but that was… that was way too close.” you shudder, turning and making sure the door is double-locked before walking towards jimin, “i don’t even know what i’d do if they saw you.”

“judging by your improv skills, you’d probably tell them i’m mr. park’s twin brother-”

“you know, that’s actually not half bad!” you raise a brow before reaching down to brush your fingers against the growing red spot on jimin’s bare chest from where you shoved at him earlier, “also, sorry i pushed you onto the ground. and then shoved you into a closet.”

“eh, i’m fine.” he hums, taking your hand before turning and walking back towards the hallway, “also, i’m going to have to ask to join one of these brunches one day since i seem to be a hot topic.” 

“oh my god, jimin-”

“by the way-” he glances at you over his shoulder for a split second with a particularly cheeky smirk, “i don’t think i need to remind you again that the offer for you to sit on my face still stands...”

“oh my god, jimin-!”

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

🌟or something even shorter?