#transferring my works took way longer than i thought it would

[sp4ceboo]

sp4ceboo's AO3 is out!!

still need to post BaCS, figure out if im posting stray, add all my dune fics and star wars fics, and also my xikers drabbles (which ngl i might consider orphaning)

[97linelover]

Cafe near the base - Jjk

summary: having a small little café near the army base was nothing special, but what if one day a special someone walks in?

content: Idol Jungkook x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff, drama, café setting, fight mentions, discussions

a/n: something about Military Jungkook makes me uuugghhh... I want him.

Y/N wiped her hands on her apron, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint hum of chatter in her cozy café. Nestled near the outskirts of the city, just a short distance from the military base, her café had become a quiet retreat for soldiers and locals alike. She had inherited the place from her late grandfather, who always said, “A warm cup can heal a cold soul.” It was her sanctuary—and, unknowingly, about to become someone else’s.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling a new customer. Y/N glanced up from the counter to see a young man in a plain black hoodie, his dark hair falling over his eyes. He moved with quiet confidence, but there was something unassuming about him that made her immediately feel at ease.

“Welcome,” she said with a small smile. “What can I get you?”

The man looked at the menu board for a moment before responding in a deep, smooth voice. “Just an Americano, please.”

“Coming right up.”

She set to work, glancing at him briefly. He was undeniably handsome, but she didn’t recognize him. To her, he was just another soldier from the base—someone seeking a moment of peace away from their rigorous routines.

He took a seat by the window, his gaze wandering outside. The way he seemed lost in thought piqued her curiosity, but she didn’t want to intrude. When she brought him his coffee, he looked up and offered a faint smile.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome. First time here?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just transferred to the base recently. Thought I’d explore the area.”

“Well, welcome to the neighborhood,” she replied warmly. “This place might not look like much, but I promise we have the best coffee around.”

He chuckled, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw a flash of something—relief? Gratitude?—in his eyes.

“I can tell,” he said, taking a sip. “It’s good.”

From that day, he started coming in regularly. Sometimes he’d sit and read, other times he’d sketch in a small notebook he always carried. He introduced himself simply as Jungkook, and Y/N didn’t pry further. He seemed to enjoy the anonymity her café offered, and she liked the calm presence he brought.

As weeks passed, their conversations grew longer. They talked about everything from their favorite childhood memories to dreams they hadn’t yet chased. Y/N found herself drawn to him—not just his looks, but the quiet depth he carried, like he was hiding a world she couldn’t quite see.

One evening, as the café neared closing time, Jungkook stayed behind to help her clean up. They worked side by side in comfortable silence until he suddenly spoke.

“Do you ever feel like… you want to escape your own life for a while?”

Y/N paused, the question catching her off guard. “I think everyone feels that way sometimes. Why? Do you?”

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Maybe... There’s a lot of pressure in my… job. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe.”

Y/N frowned, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “You can always breathe here,” she said gently.

Jungkook smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Y/N. That means more than you know.”

What Y/N didn’t know was that the man sweeping her café floor and laughing at her terrible jokes was none other than Jeon Jungkook—the world-famous singer from BTS. The military transfer was a cover for his enlistment, and her café had become his refuge from the spotlight.

As they grew closer, Jungkook found himself torn. He wanted to tell her the truth, but he feared it would change everything. For once, someone saw him as just Jungkook—not the global sensation, not the idol, but a person. And he wasn’t ready to let that go.

One late afternoon, as the golden light spilled through the windows, Y/N handed him a steaming cup of coffee. “You’re kind of mysterious, you know that?” she teased.

“Am I?” he asked, his lips quirking into a small grin.

“Yeah. But I like it. Makes me want to figure you out.”

Jungkook’s chest tightened. He realized then that he’d found something rare in Y/N: a connection untouched by fame or expectations. But the longer he kept his secret, the more he feared what would happen when she discovered who he really was.

For now, he chose to savor the moments—the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her smile, the way her presence made him feel like he could finally breathe.

Over the weeks, Y/N and Jungkook fell into an easy rhythm. Morning coffee runs turned into lingering afternoons, and eventually, late evenings spent talking until the stars dotted the sky. Jungkook began helping her in the café when it got busy, claiming he enjoyed the distraction. Y/N didn’t protest—she liked having him there.

What started as casual conversations about coffee or books had evolved into something much deeper. She found herself laughing more, smiling wider, and looking forward to every moment they spent together. Jungkook’s presence felt like a warm embrace, and though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, there was something about him that made her feel safe.

One Saturday, as the sun dipped behind the mountains near the base, Jungkook arrived at the café with a friend. The man was shorter, with a bright smile that could light up the room and a laugh that seemed to ripple effortlessly through the air.

“Y/N, this is Jimin,” Jungkook introduced him, looking both amused and slightly exasperated as Jimin practically ran up to her.

“Hi!” Jimin greeted warmly. “I’ve heard so much about you. I just had to see this café that Jungkook never stops talking about.”

Y/N blushed under his cheerful gaze, glancing at Jungkook, who rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “Oh, really? I hope it lives up to the hype.”

“It already does,” Jimin said, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I mean, the smell of coffee, the cozy vibe—it’s perfect. No wonder he’s always here.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook muttered, clearly embarrassed, though Y/N noticed the soft fondness in his tone.

The three of them ended up sitting at one of the corner tables after closing. Jimin’s infectious energy filled the room as he teased Jungkook and made Y/N laugh until her stomach hurt. It was the first time she’d seen Jungkook so relaxed, his usual quietness giving way to bursts of laughter and playful jabs at Jimin.

As the evening stretched on, Jimin leaned toward Y/N and said with a wink, “You’ve got no idea how much this guy talks about you at the base. It’s kind of sickening, honestly.”

“Jimin!” Jungkook groaned, his face turning red as Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Oh, come on, Kook,” Jimin said with a laugh. “You’re practically glowing every time you come back from this place.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her heart fluttering. She glanced at Jungkook, who avoided her gaze but couldn’t hide the small, shy smile playing on his lips.

After Jimin left, the two of them stood outside the café under the clear night sky. The air was crisp, and the stars shimmered brightly overhead.

“I’m sorry about Jimin,” Jungkook said, his voice low. “He… has no filter.”

“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said softly, leaning against the doorframe. “I like him. He’s funny. And… he seems to care about you a lot.”

Jungkook nodded, his gaze fixed on the ground. After a moment, he looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Y/N, I—” He hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” she asked, stepping closer.

He looked at her for a long moment, as if searching for something in her expression. “Nothing. I just… I’m glad I met you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “Me too.”

The days turned into weeks, and their connection deepened. Jungkook and Y/N spent more time together, sharing stolen moments in the quiet of the café or walking along the trails near the base. Jimin occasionally joined them, his playful energy balancing the quiet intensity between Y/N and Jungkook.

Still, she remained unaware of who Jungkook truly was. He’d mastered the art of blending in—wearing simple clothes, keeping a low profile, and avoiding anything that might reveal his identity. But with every passing day, his secret weighed heavier on him.

One evening, as they sat on a bench overlooking the city lights, Y/N leaned her head on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You know,” she said, her voice soft, “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re kind, thoughtful, and…” She paused, smiling. “Mysterious.”

Jungkook chuckled, though it lacked his usual lightness. “Mysterious, huh?”

She nodded. “It’s like you’re carrying this big secret. But I don’t mind. I just… I hope you trust me enough to tell me someday.”

He stiffened slightly but quickly relaxed. “I do trust you, Y/N. More than you know.”

For now, he told himself, he could hold onto this. Hold onto her. Because in her eyes, he wasn’t Jungkook the superstar. He was just Jungkook—a man falling hopelessly in love.

When he walked through the door that evening, her heart skipped, as it always did. Jungkook wore his usual black hoodie, his hair slightly messy, and that small, shy smile she had come to adore.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, leaning on the counter. “You okay? You look… distracted.”

Y/N swallowed hard, wiping her hands on her apron before meeting his gaze. “Jungkook, can we talk? Really talk?”

His smile faltered slightly, and she noticed the flicker of concern in his eyes. “Yeah, of course. What’s going on?”

She motioned toward one of the booths in the corner, and he followed her, sitting across from her as she fidgeted with her hands. The words caught in her throat, but she forced herself to push through.

“Jungkook,” she began, her voice trembling, “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just… say it. I’ve fallen for you. I care about you—so much more than I thought possible.”

His eyes widened slightly, and she pressed on before she lost her nerve.

“You’re kind, thoughtful, and you’ve become such a big part of my life. I don’t know what you’re hiding, and I don’t need to know. I just know that I—” Her voice cracked, but she managed to whisper, “I love you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jungkook looked down at the table, his hands clenched into fists. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might say something. But he didn’t. Instead, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

“Jungkook?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“I—” He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “I can’t do this, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

Her heart shattered at his words. “What do you mean? Did I… do something wrong?”

“No.” His voice was strained, his hands trembling as he shoved them into his pockets. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re… perfect. But this—us—it can’t happen.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she stood, desperate to understand. “Why? If you feel the same way, why are you pushing me away?”

He looked at her then, his eyes filled with pain. “Because I’m not who you think I am. I can’t give you the life you deserve. And if you knew the truth about me, you’d understand why this has to end.”

“Then tell me,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

But he just shook his head, stepping back toward the door. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving her standing there, tears streaming down her face as the door jingled shut behind him.

For days, Jungkook didn’t come to the café. Y/N tried to focus on her work, but the emptiness he left behind was unbearable. She replayed their conversation over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of it.

What was he hiding? Why couldn’t he trust her?

Jungkook, meanwhile, was drowning in his own turmoil. He stayed on base, avoiding everyone, even Jimin. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—the way she looked at him, her voice when she said she loved him.

He loved her too. He had from the very beginning. But how could he tell her? How could he burden her with the truth? He wasn’t just a soldier stationed at the base. He was Jeon Jungkook, a global superstar whose every move was scrutinized. His life wasn’t his own, and if Y/N knew the truth, her life wouldn’t be hers either.

“You’re an idiot,” Jimin said one evening, barging into Jungkook’s room without knocking.

Jungkook sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. “Don’t start, Jimin.”

“No, I will start,” Jimin snapped, crossing his arms. “You love her, don’t you?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, but the look on his face said enough.

“Then why are you doing this to her? To yourself?”

“Because I’m protecting her!” Jungkook shouted, standing abruptly. “If she knew who I really was, everything would change. She wouldn’t look at me the same way. And even if she did, the world wouldn’t leave her alone. They’d dig into her life, follow her everywhere—she deserves better than that.”

Jimin softened, his expression turning sympathetic. “But don’t you think she should be the one to decide that? You’re not protecting her, Jungkook. You’re just running away.”

Jungkook didn’t respond, his chest heaving as he stared at the floor.

Jimin sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in love with her. And I can tell she’s in love with you. You have something rare, Jungkook. Don’t throw it away because you’re scared.”

But fear was all Jungkook felt. Fear of losing her, fear of hurting her, fear of what the truth might do to the fragile happiness they’d found together.

So he stayed away, even as his heart broke a little more with every passing day.

Jungkook stood outside the café, staring at the familiar wooden door with its chipped paint and small “Open” sign hanging in the window. It was evening, the golden light spilling across the cobblestone street, and the faint scent of coffee lingered in the air.

But the door wouldn’t open.

He’d been coming here every day for the past week, hoping to see her. Every time, he found it locked—or worse, saw the flicker of movement inside as Y/N disappeared into the back, ignoring him completely. She was shutting him out, and he couldn’t blame her.

Jungkook exhaled deeply, his hands tightening into fists. He had no right to feel hurt, not after what he’d done. But the pain in his chest was suffocating. He had never realized how much the café, her smile, and the warmth she brought into his life had meant to him—until he’d lost it all.

That night he had walked away from her, thinking it was the right thing to do. He thought he was protecting her from the chaos of his world. But instead, he had shattered her trust and his own heart.

Inside the café, Y/N leaned against the back door, her hands trembling. She had seen him through the window, standing there like he always did, his dark eyes scanning the room as if he might find her. But she couldn’t face him—not after everything.

How dare he come back after breaking her heart? After leaving her standing there, vulnerable and exposed, as if her feelings meant nothing to him?

She wiped away an angry tear and straightened, forcing herself to focus on cleaning up. She had work to do, and she wasn’t going to let him distract her again.

But even as she moved around the café, stacking chairs and wiping tables, her mind kept drifting back to him. She hated how much she still missed him, how much she still loved him despite everything.

And she hated herself for the part of her that wished he would explain—give her a reason, any reason, to believe that what they’d had wasn’t a lie.

Jungkook stayed outside for hours, leaning against the wall across the street, watching as the lights in the café dimmed one by one. He wanted to knock, to beg her to let him in, but every time he stepped closer, he hesitated.

He thought about her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her dreams. He thought about the quiet moments they had shared, the way she had made him feel like he wasn’t Jeon Jungkook, the idol, but just Jungkook—the man.

But now, he was just a stranger to her.

As the last light went out, he whispered into the empty night, “I’m so sorry, Y/N."

But one rainy afternoon, as she stood behind the counter, wiping down mugs, there was a knock at the door. She glanced up and immediately froze.

It was Jungkook.

He stood there, soaked from the rain, his hoodie clinging to him. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were red, as if he hadn’t slept. He looked… broken.

“Y/N,” he called through the glass, his voice muffled but desperate. “Please. Just hear me out.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. For a moment, she almost considered unlocking the door. But then she remembered the pain of him walking away, the emptiness he had left behind.

So she shook her head, turned the sign to “Closed,” and walked to the back, leaving him standing in the rain.

Weeks had passed since Jungkook had stood outside her café, silently pleading for her to let him in. Y/N had kept her distance, her heart wrapped in the protective walls she had built. But no matter how hard she tried to move on, her thoughts always returned to him. His smile, his quiet warmth, the way he had made her feel seen.

One evening, as she closed the café, there was a knock on the door. She froze, expecting to see him again, but this time it wasn’t the rain-soaked figure she had grown used to. It was Jimin.

“Y/N,” he said gently, stepping inside when she hesitated. “Please don’t shut me out too.”

She sighed, setting down the towel she’d been holding. “What do you want, Jimin?”

“I came to speak for him. I know you don’t want to see him, but he’s…” He hesitated, his usually playful demeanor replaced with sincerity. “He’s a mess, Y/N. He’s been hurting, and it’s all because of you.”

“Because of me?” she snapped, anger bubbling to the surface. “He left me, Jimin. He broke my heart.”

“I know,” Jimin said softly, stepping closer. “But do you know why?”

She opened her mouth to retort but stopped. The truth was, she didn’t. He had never given her the answer she deserved.

Jimin smiled sadly. “He’s been scared, Y/N. Not of you, but of himself. Of his world and what it might do to you if you knew who he really was. But he loves you—more than I think he’s ever loved anyone.”

Her heart twisted painfully at his words, and Jimin placed a folded note on the counter. “He asked me to give you this. If you’re ready to listen, meet him tonight.”

She stared at the note long after Jimin had left, her hands trembling as she opened it.

It was simple:

“The park by the hill. 8 PM. Please give me one last chance to show you how much you mean to me. – Jungkook”

Y/N arrived at the park just as the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. She spotted Jungkook waiting beneath a streetlamp, his hands in his pockets, his gaze distant.

When he saw her, his breath hitched. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t come. But there she was, standing in front of him, more beautiful than ever.

“Y/N,” he breathed, stepping closer. “Thank you for coming.”

She crossed her arms, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions she felt. “You said you had something to say. So say it.”

Jungkook nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I’ve been a coward,” he admitted. “I pushed you away because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back. “Why, Jungkook? Why did you leave?”

He hesitated, then reached for her hand. “Because I’m not who you think I am,” he said softly. “I’m not just a soldier. I’m…” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. From BTS.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “BTS? The band?”

He nodded, his heart racing. “That’s me. That’s my life. I thought if you knew, it would ruin everything. I didn’t want the attention, the cameras, the chaos, to touch you. But in trying to keep you safe, I lost the one thing that mattered most—us.”

Y/N stared at him, the weight of his confession sinking in. Slowly, she shook her head. “You think I care about any of that?”

He blinked, stunned by her words.

“I don’t care who you are or what you do,” she continued, her voice steady. “I fell in love with you, Jungkook. The man who laughs at my bad jokes, who helps me wipe tables, who makes me feel like I matter. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Jungkook’s heart swelled, and before he could stop himself, he pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve loved you from the moment I stepped into your café. I’m so sorry for pushing you away.”

As the first drops of rain began to fall, Y/N looked up at him, her tears mixing with the soft drizzle. “Then don’t push me away again.”

He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned down, their lips meeting in a kiss that felt like the world had stopped spinning. The rain poured around them, but neither of them cared.

They danced under the streetlamp, soaked but laughing, their hearts finally beating in sync. They kissed again and again, neither wanting the night to end.

For the first time, Jungkook wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t hiding. He was simply a man in love, and for the first time in a long time, he felt free.

And Y/N, standing there in his arms, knew that no matter what came next, they would face it together.

The day of Jungkook’s discharge came with clear blue skies and the kind of warmth that hinted at the arrival of spring. The military base was bustling with activity—friends, family, and fans gathered to celebrate the soldiers returning to civilian life. Y/N stood at a distance, hidden near the edge of the park overlooking the base.

She couldn’t get closer, not with the security stationed everywhere. The crowd of people hoping to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was overwhelming, and Y/N knew she didn’t belong there. She wasn’t a part of his world—not the world that demanded the constant flashing of cameras and the protective presence of bodyguards.

Still, she couldn’t help but watch.

From afar, she saw him standing tall in his uniform, surrounded by his bandmates and a sea of fans. His smile was bright, his hand raised in a wave, but she knew him well enough to see the weariness behind it.

Y/N’s heart swelled with pride as she took it all in. He had worked so hard, given so much of himself, and she loved him for every part of it. But she also felt the ache—the deep, quiet pain of knowing she couldn’t be there beside him.

As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, she turned to leave, her chest tight. She had seen enough. She had come to support him, even if it was from a distance.

But just as she stepped away, a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N!”

She froze, her breath hitching. When she turned, there he was—Jungkook, running toward her, his uniform slightly wrinkled and his hair falling messily over his forehead.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” she asked, glancing nervously at the base behind him. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your team? With the fans?”

“They can wait,” he said, stopping in front of her, slightly out of breath. “You can’t.”

Her eyes widened as he reached for her hands, his grip firm but trembling. “I saw you standing there, Y/N. I knew you’d come.”

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted softly. “I’m so proud of you, Jungkook. But… this isn’t my place. I don’t belong here.”

His face fell, and he shook his head. “Don’t say that. You belong with me.”

She bit her lip, her eyes searching his. “Do I? Jungkook, look at your life. Look at everything that comes with it. I don’t know if I can—”

He cut her off, his voice low and filled with pain. “I know. That’s why I need to tell you something.”

Her stomach twisted as he let go of her hands, stepping back slightly.

“I love you, Y/N. I always will. But my life—it’s not easy. It’s cameras, schedules, people watching my every move. It’s exhausting, and it’s lonely, and it’s not fair to you.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “So what are you saying, Jungkook?”

He swallowed hard, his own eyes glistening. “I’m saying I can’t drag you into this. I can’t ask you to give up your peace, your freedom, for a life that will never feel truly yours.”

Her heart broke at his words, but deep down, she understood. She had seen the way his world operated, the constant pressure and scrutiny. It wasn’t the quiet life they had shared at the café, the one that had felt so natural, so right.

“So this is it?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He stepped closer, cupping her face with his hands. “If I could choose any life, Y/N, it would be with you. But I can’t change who I am, and I won’t let my life ruin yours.”

The tears spilled over as she nodded, her hands resting on his. “I hate this, but… I understand.”

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of their unspoken love hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Jungkook leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

“You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be,” he whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

She closed her eyes, committing the feel of his touch to memory. “And you’ve made me feel more alive than I ever thought possible.”

As he pulled away, their gazes locked one last time. Then, without another word, he turned and walked back toward the base, his shoulders heavy with the weight of what he was leaving behind.

Y/N watched him go, her heart breaking with every step he took. But she stayed strong, knowing that sometimes, love meant letting go—even when it was the hardest thing in the world.

And as the sun set behind the mountains, she whispered into the quiet air, “Goodbye, Jungkook. I’ll always love you.”

It had been two years since Y/N had left the small café near the military base behind, two years since she had last seen Jungkook. In that time, she had built a new life for herself, pouring her heart into her dream of opening a café in Seoul.

Her new café, The Golden Bean, had quickly become a neighborhood favorite. It was cozy, tucked between tall buildings, with large windows that let in the sunlight. She loved it here—the bustling streets of Seoul, the friendly locals who had become regulars, and the sense of pride she felt every time someone complimented her coffee or her pastries.

But there were moments when her mind would wander back to him. Jungkook. The boy with the soft eyes and the tender smile who had stolen her heart. She had watched him grow from afar, his career reaching new heights. His face was on billboards, his voice on every radio station. He was bigger than ever, and yet he still felt like the boy she had danced with in the rain.

One quiet afternoon, Y/N decided to close the café early and take a walk through the nearby park. The air was crisp, the sun warm on her face as she strolled beneath the cherry blossom trees, their petals fluttering down like soft snow.

She was lost in thought, admiring the beauty around her, when she heard the sound of fast footsteps and the heavy breathing of someone running. Before she could react, a Dobermann came bounding toward her, its tongue lolling and tail wagging.

“Whoa, hey there!” she laughed, crouching down as the dog nearly toppled her over. The dog’s fur was soft beneath her hands, and its dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief as it licked her cheek.

She giggled, rubbing its ears. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?”

“Bam! Stop it!”

The familiar voice froze her in place. Slowly, Y/N looked up, her heart pounding.

There he was.

Jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark hair slightly messy, wearing a simple hoodie and joggers. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, his wide eyes fixed on her.

“Y/N?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her hands fell away from Bam as she straightened, her breath catching. “Jungkook…”

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them fading into the background. It felt like time had stopped, like the universe had conspired to bring them together again.

“I—I didn’t expect to see you here,” he stammered, stepping closer.

“Me neither,” she said, her voice soft. She glanced down at the dog. “Bam’s yours?”

He nodded, smiling nervously. “Yeah, he’s my boy. He got loose during our run. Sorry if he bothered you.”

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “He didn’t. He’s sweet.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, the years of distance melting away. Finally, he broke the silence.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I’m… good,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. “I opened a café here in Seoul.”

His eyes lit up with pride. “That’s amazing, Y/N. I always knew you’d do it.”

She felt a pang in her chest at his words, the warmth of his support washing over her. “And you… You’ve been doing incredible things. I’ve seen you everywhere.”

Jungkook’s smile faltered slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s been… a lot. But it doesn’t feel as good as it should.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated, then met her eyes, his voice raw. “Because you weren’t there to share it with me.”

Her breath hitched, her heart pounding as his words hung in the air.

“Y/N,” he continued, stepping closer. “I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, by keeping you away from my crazy life. But not a day has gone by where I haven’t missed you. Seeing you here, now—it feels like fate.”

She stared at him, her emotions swirling in her chest. “Jungkook, your life is so different from mine. It’s—”

“I don’t care,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “I’ve had all the success I could ever dream of, but none of it means anything without you. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him, his expression filled with a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Her heart felt like it might burst. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook. So much.”

He took her hand, his grip warm and steady. “Then let me prove to you that we can make this work. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t walk away again.”

She smiled through her tears, nodding as she stepped closer. “I won’t.”

As the cherry blossoms fell around them, Jungkook pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he’d never let go again. Bam barked happily, circling around them as they laughed through their tears.

And in that moment, beneath the trees and the open sky, it felt like everything had fallen into place—like they had found their way back to where they were always meant to be.

[burrowdarling]

Playing Games

Summary: You head over to Joe's apartment for what you thought would be your usual hangout, things get competitive between you two in a whole new way.

Pairings: lsu!Joe x bestfriend!reader

Warnings: descriptions of sex (p in v), no protection (wrap it before you tap it), weed smoking, praise, MDNI

Note: Hi! Happy victory Monday 🧡 I got a bit carried away while writing this one, I tried to proofread the best I could so sorry for any mistakes. This is my longest fic to date, I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 4.1k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

You arrived at Joe’s apartment for your usual weekly hangout, your bag slung over your shoulder as you used your spare key to let yourself in. You always brought your things for the next day, just in case you decided (or inevitably) fell asleep here. It wouldn’t be the fist time, having some of your clothes stashed here for those times. Joe didn’t seem to mind, appreciating that you guys had established a close enough friendship to do so. There was also a small part of him that wished you kept more of your things there.

You heard his footsteps padding down the hallway, towel drying his hair with sweatpants sitting low on his hips and his t-shirt slung over his shoulder. You took the time he was distracted to look at him a little longer than a best friend should. You’ve had the biggest crush on Joe since you guys met when you were younger, rekindling your friendship when Joe transferred to LSU. You stayed in touch before, but it was hard to make time for each other when you were apart, now it’s hard to imagine how things used to be between you two.

Joe looked up and held your gaze, smilings as he dropped the towel onto the back of the kitchen chair in front of him. He stepped closer to give you a quick hug, feeling the small droplets of water that remained across his back. He pulled away, reaching behind you to grab a drink from the fridge.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in” Joe spoke as he pulled his t-shirt over his head while heading towards the couch. You watched as his taut back muscles flexed as his arms went over his head to pull the short down, knowing how much work he put in day after day to have those. His work ethic was something you had always admired about him.

Joe settled in on the couch, propping his socked feet up against the edge of the coffee table and picked up his controller. He slipped the hat he left there backwards onto his head, letting out a content sigh as he settled in. You took his comfort as a cue to follow him, replying as you went.

“I wasn’t here long, we had some perfect timing” you said as you settled on the other side of the couch. You sat criss crossed with your back against the arm of the couch, facing towards Joe when you noticed the joint tucked behind his ear. He must’ve done that before you came over, knowing it was something you both liked to do from time to time. It wasn’t often that either of you smoked, but it was something that always eased the tension you felt in the room with Joe.

You felt extremely comfortable with him, it was more of the realization that your feelings for him weren’t going anywhere any time soon that made things harder, particularly in times like this. Joe was so laid back in this moment, no stress of classes or the season on his mind to weigh him down. Your time together was his priority and it put off an energy that made you want to be closer to him. The hard part was discerning the lines between what a best friend would do and when it felt like something more.

Joe must’ve felt your gaze on his face, slipping the joint into his fingers as he looked to face you. He toyed with it between his fingers before saying, “I was gonna head out for a smoke before we started anything, would you wanna join me?” Joe asked as he started to stand up.

You nodded your head, trying to keep your emotions in check as you followed Joe out onto his small balcony. You each took a seat across from one another at his small patio table. Joe took out the lighter from his pocket, bringing the joint to his lips as he lit the end of it. Joe took a good inhale, pulling it away from his lips as he held his breath for a few seconds. He let the smoke exhale from his lungs and oast his lips, blowing it straight up in the air. 

You felt your own breath catch in your throat at the sight of his exposed neck, wanting to drag your lips across it and mark it up to your heart's content. Joe passed the joint over to you, along with the lighter. You thanked him before repeating the actions he just did moments before. You didn;t smoke much, not loving the burn in your chest or how it could send you into coughing fits. You did love the way it made you feel, though this time would be one of the coughing sprees. You could feel your cheeks stat to heat, a small wave of embarrassment as if you couldn’t keep up washed over you.

Joe chuckled as he passed you his water and extended his other hand for the joint as a trade, nodding a silent thank you to him before downing some to give your throat some relief. You could see the gears in Joe’s head turning as he fiddled with the joint between his long slender fingers.

“I have an idea that might help you out and help you not cough so much. Do you trust me, sunshine?” you smiled at him from the use of your nickname. It was one Joe had given you years ago due to your happy-go-lucky nature and positive attitude, having stuck ever since.

“Of course I do, I would trust you with anything Joey” you said honestly. You meant it wholeheartedly, knowing he would never intentionally hurt you.

Joe nodded and he lit the joint again, and brought it to his lips to take an inhale of his own, motioning for you to move closer. You scooted your chair as close as you could with the proximity of the balcony. Joe exhaled the hit he took before preparing to take another, a look of confusion crossing your features.

“I’m gonna need you to open your mouth a bit and relax for me. Trust me remember?” Joe asked sweetly, not giving your brain much time to process his request and just doing what you were told.

Joe took another hit, this time leaning over in your direction. The next thing you knew Joe’s lips were ghosting dangerously close to yours, feeling the smoke exit his mouth and fill your own. In the haze of his actions, you could hear Joe instruct you to slowly inhale what he’d given you. You did so, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. You didn’t feel the same burn you did before and there was no cough after, just the effects you liked to feel after you smoked. 

“Again,” you said before you could overthink it. Joe nodded and did as you asked, feeling yourself become more weightless as time went on. You and Joe chatted about nothing and everything while you smoked, catching the other up on anything they might have missed during your short time apart. By the end of the joint, Joe took the last hit while you were sat feeling like you were on cloud nine and let the realization hit you on how close you had come to locking your lips with his. There was so much charge behind the action, with his mouth so close to yours, it was a true test of willpower to not have closed the small gap and crossed over that line with him.

Joe was feeling a similar feeling, kicking himself for letting things get as close with you as he did. He never wanted you to feel uncomfortable with him and knew it would allow you to feel good without the added repercussions, he was always trying to make you feel good.

You took a minute to compose yourselves before making your way back into the apartment. You sat closer to each other this time, your legs grazing one another as you sat. Feeling the slight heat of his body against yours had your mind racing. The buzz from your high made you feel like you were tensionless, Joe’s energy pulling you into him. You couldn’t get your mind off his lips and what it felt like when they brushed against your own ever so slightly.

Joe handed you a controller, bringing your thoughts back to the present, thanking him lightly. He picked up the remote and started to get everything going.

“I figured we could fuck around with some Madden, it’s been so long since we played together” Joe said, reminiscing on how you guys loved to play when you were younger. Joe had the advantage having been better at video games than you ever were, but he’d always help you out. You nodded shyly, smiling to yourself as you thought back to similar memories when everything with him was easier.

You fiddled with it in your hand as he started to get everything set, wandering into the kitchen to find some snacks for you both to have on hand. Even doing the most mundane things this man was so distracting. You focused on the controller in your lap, trying to memorize where every button was instead, it being some time since you used one, in an effort to calm yourself.

You guys played a couple games, getting your bearing in your current states. You both were giggling throughout it all, making everything into a joke whenever you had the chance to do so. Joe’s laugh was like music to your ears. It was so contagious you found yourself laughing along with him, even if it was at nothing. You were unsure when the tension became palpable in the room, the air seeming light between you two for the majority of the evening. You felt your bodies drifting closer as you guys laughed, ending up slouched into one another. The feeling of Joe’s body on yours had your mind reeling with the most inappropriate thoughts about your best friend.

You let your eyes wander over him, taking him in as he played. Your eyes scanning over him, lingering too long in places they shouldn’t. You thought about what things would be like if you were on the same page with each other. If Joe really felt the same about you, desiring your body the same way you wanted his. You wondered what he thought about when he pleasured himself, what he liked. Your body reeling at the thought of Joe’s hand gripped around his cock, his mind filled with thoughts of you. It was as if Joe could read your mind, sensing exactly where your thoughts were headed. You couldn't help but think and hope that his mind went there too, wanting you in all the ways you desired him.

“What do you say we up the stakes, hm?” Joe spoke, cutting through the silence like a knife. His voice pulled you out of your thoughts of him to the one in front of you, the lines between the two starting to blur.

“What’d you have in mind?” you asked, feeling your competitive nature shining through at his idea. Bringing your attention there instead of where it shouldn’t be.

“What if instead of just a winner or loser, we make it into strip madden” he said so matter of factly, Joe’s idea causing your mind to go blank. You had to think for a second if he really jus said those words out loud. 

“Do tell, Burrow” you questioned as passively as you could muster, trying not to let your overt excitement show through.

“Every time the other person scores, you have to remove an article of clothing. If it’s something special like a 2-point conversion or an interception, it's an extra piece of the opponents choosing” Joe finished confidently, laying back on the couch as he spread his legs further apart. You couldn’t help your eyes trailing down to the lower half of his body, the weed lowering your inhibitions. You figured you didn’t have much to lose at this point, Joe seemed as engaged and turned on by the tension in the room  as you were.

You took an inventory of all of the layers you had on. You were wearing a hoodie and t-shirt, thanking yourself for it being the day you decided to wear a bra for an extra layer. You had on some leggings, underwear, and socks. It didn’t feel like much, but it felt fairly even to what Joe was wearing.

“You’re on, may the best player win” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“I intend to have you naked for me by halftime”Joe said so matter of factly that you almost spit it right back out. How was he being so cool in this situation? You could already feel yourself crumbling for him.

“We’ll see about that” as composed as you could sound, keeping your focus on the screen. If you looked in his direction, you feared it would be game over before it even started. Joe lightly coughed to get your attention, his hand stuck straight out for a handshake. So you’d have to look at him AND touch him? He was smarter than you thought.

You shook on it to make the deal official and took up spots on opposite ends of the couch. You were hoping the slight distance you put between you would help to clear your mind a little. You hadn’t played in so long, hoping you could do well enough to get Joe to lose some clothing. Joe started up the game, scrolling through the different options for teams.

“I call the Bengals though,” you said with a playful smirk crossing your lips. Joe gestured as if to say ‘go right ahead’, opting to play as the Lions instead. You messed around, trying to pick the exact uniform you wanted before settling on the all-white one. Joe set the rules for the game, turning towards you and dropping a wink as he hit the start button. You inhaled a deep breath, giving yourself the strength to hold your own.

Joe scored the first touchdown fairly early on, with you opting to go for your socks first. You were intending to play hard to get, it was one of the only things you really had to hold on to if he was going to beat you. You slowly pulled them off one by one, wiggling your eyebrows at him while you did so, earning a small chuckle from him as he shook his head at you.

“You’ll have to score more than that to see what’s underneath, Joey” you said with a sing-song tone to your voice. You were enjoying this, watching his eyes darkness with lust as he looked at you. It was as if he was seeing right through you anyway, able to see every dip and curve of your body in his mind.

“Oh I intend to, I told you what my goal was and I’m not giving up on it” Joe said confidently. You felt your confidence waver slightly, feeling like this wasn;t just a game to him anymore, but a reason to have you where he wanted you.

“If you wanted me naked for you, all you had to do was ask me,” you said quietly, not as confident as it was in your head. The lines between friendship and more were essentially nonexistent at this point, both of your highs wearing off and the sober truth coming to the surface.

“Believe me I do, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. I’m also not a quitter and intend to draw this out fair and square, a deal is a deal after all” Joe said as he turned his focus back to the TV, leaving you breathless and thoughts spinning. His confession had heat shooting straight to your core, feeling yourself getting wetter with each second that passed.

By halftime, the game felt unfair despite having more layers on than Joe at the start. You managed to score two touchdowns, which felt like a victory in itself. Having copied your ideas to go socks-first, he was left shirtless which you weren’t complaining about. You, on the other hand, were left in just your bra and panties, watching as Joe had to try his hardest to keep his gaze fixed on the screen.

You could see the hard outline of his cock straining against his sweatpants, envisioning what it would look like to have your hands wrapped around it. Wondering if he would be too big to take in your mouth, needing to use your hands to take the rest of him. You squeezed your legs tighter at the thought, the movement not going unnoticed by Joe. You were silently wishing he chose to let you score more points to put you out of your misery. You felt like your skin was electrified with the amount of tension that was in the room. Just as the next half was about the start, you felt Joe move on the opposite end of the couch.

“Fuck the game, I’m taking you now” Joe said with a groan as he shifted over to your side, leaving you no choice but to end up underneath him.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your mind tried to process what was happening. The number of times you imagined this scenario in your head was too many to count, trying your hardest to be in the moment while it was happening. You were sure you had soaked through your panties by now, praising yourself for choosing a cute matching lace set this morning when you got dressed.

“Do you know how hard it was to just sit there and watch you play in this little excuse you call underwear, hmm?” Joe teased, his voice low and sultry. He brought his hand down to touch your bare shoulder as he inched closer to the strap of your bra.

“It seems like you’ve been enjoying the view of this little excuse just fine if you ask me” you chided back as you brought your own hand to his shoulder, letting it fall slowly down his chest. Your touch was feather light, a shiver coming from Joe as he let his eyes close just for a second to revel in the moment of having your hands on him. 

“Once we fully cross this line, I don’t want to go back to how things were with you. If you want out, now is your time to say so and we can forget all of this happened” Joe said with a sincere concern in his tone. You could tell by the look on his face that he meant every word he said, even if it would crush him to go back on things with you.

“I feel like we crossed that line hours ago and I have no intention of wanting to go back if you’ll have me Joey,” you said honestly as you locked eyes with each other. You gave him a nod and that was all it took. It was as if a cord of restraint had snapped within him, his head dipping down to your neck as his lips trailed kisses all along it. He found your sweet spot almost instantly, earning a moan from you that you tried your best to muffle with the back of your hand against your mouth. Joe stopped, moving his lips to your ear as his hot breath fanned over it.

“Don’t you dare quiet any of those sounds, I’ve wanted to hear what you sounded like beneath me for so long, don’t hold out on me now. Let me know just how good I’m making you feel sunshine” Joe said as he made quick work of trailing his hands down your body to your center. You let a loud moan escape your lips as your back arched up into Joe, a triumphant smile across his face.

“Is it bad to want to skip all of the other stuff and have you in me now?” you asked a bit shyly, hoping you weren’t coming off wrong. “Not that I don’t want to do everything else, considering I’ve imagined what it would be like to have my mouth on your cock.”

“Jesus, sunshine, you’ve got quite the mouth on you huh. As long as it means we can go back to it later, I’ve been dying to fuck you” Joe said as he moved his fingers to slip them into the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs and tossing them somewhere across the room. He dropped his face to be between your thighs as he licked a quick strip through your folds, a gasp coming from you. 

“I had to get a taste of you first, though and you bet your ass I’ll be going back for more later. I plan on having you be a mess below me and above me” Joe said as he made quick work of taking off his boxers, coming back to be above you on the couch. He lined himself up at your entrance, pausing to meet your gaze first.

“This okay?” he asked, wanting to make sure one final time. It was sweet how much he cared for you, always making you feel safe despite the situation.

“It’s perfect, Joey” you answered, your voice full of adoration for the man above you. With your reply, he slowly pushed himself into you. Your breath hitched in your throat before letting out a long moan. You heard Joe groaning above you as he moved himself deeper, allowing you time to adjust to his size. 

“God Joey you’re so fucking big” you moaned out, letting your head fall back against the couch and your eyes close.

“Eyes on me sunshine, I know you can take it” Joe talked you through it, eliciting sounds you didn’t even know you could make at his words. “I don’t know if I’m gonna last long, you’re so damn tight.”

“That’s okay, that’s what another round is for” you joked back, bringing your hands to his back as he started to move into you at a quicker pace. You dragged your nails down as he hit just the right spot, the feeling only making him fuck you harder. Joe was putting any of the other guys you had been with to shame, the expectations in every fantasy you’ve had being surpassed with flying colors.

“Fuck Joey, I’m gonna-” you didn’t finish your sentence before you felt one of his hands make its way down between you, his thumb rolling small circles on your clit. That’s all it took to send you over the edge, moaning out his name as you rode out your high. 

Joe finished soon after, the feeling of your walls tightening around him becoming too much to hold back. He pulled out quickly, finishing himself on your stomach with a few quick strokes of his hand. Your name fell from his lips as he tucked his face into your neck, leaving a few sweet kisses on your skin. You both took a few moments to catch your breath, lying and holding each other's soft gaze.

“What do you say we get you cleaned up in the shower, as much as I love what a mess I made of you” Joe asked, a hint of desire lacing his words. You simply nodded, feeling too worn out to speak. Joe chuckled, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you gently on the counter while he started the shower and grabbed an extra towel.

“What does this mean for us?” you spoke up, voice soft and mellow. Joe turned to look at you from across the bathroom, making his way over and standing between your legs.

“I’d love to take you out on a real date, make you mine officially” Joe responded, brushing a stray hair from your face to tuck it behind your ear.

“I’d love that, though I feel like I’ve always been your girl” you said, full transparency in your words. Joe leaned down to meet your lips in a sweet slow kiss, the full gravity of the situation settling in the room between you.

“And I’ve always been your guy, sunshine,” Joe said as he parted from you and helped you into the shower. This was not the way you anticipated your weekend to go, but you wouldn’t change playing the game for the world.

[grandline-fics]

Hi lovely, hope you’re doing well. If you feel like it, would you write Smoker not realizing he’s got a crush on you until Tashigi has to point it out? It seems so Them ™ thank you 🫰

DESCRIPTION: He has no idea he has a crush on you

WARNINGS: mutual pining/ crushes

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,225

A/N: I was only intending on making this a short and sweet drabble but it went a little longer than that. Not that I'm complaining. I hope you like what I came up with for this and thank you for requesting.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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Smoker is normally straightforward and very aware of his surroundings and those that are in his immediate vicinity. He likes his space immensely and rarely allows anyone to encroach in that personal bubble. Outside of attacking pirates, or training very few tend to be given the privilege of staying next to Smoker for more than a few seconds. Tashigi would be the one to stay next to Smoker the most given she was his second in command although an interesting development caught her eye that Smoker somehow failed to notice for himself. You. Ever since you were transferred to the G5 base she noticed more and more how you and Smoker had gotten closer, to the point that now as she watched the two of you talk in the hallway her keen eyes took in how Smoker’s arm was all but a hair’s breadth away from fully touching yours. 

By her observation that was practically the equivalent of anyone else straddling their lover's lap by Smoker’s standards. Her gaze took you both in and she fought back the giddy smile, her boss had a crush and endearingly, he had no idea of his feelings. For a while she was happy to just take the revelation in and enjoy it for herself, unable to give up the chance of a lifetime to see Smoker like this. It was like winning the lottery to see the gruff, almost socially distant, stoic leader show his softer side. Now that she was aware of the change that overcame Smoker when you were near, she couldn’t help but see it take effect instantly. 

When you talked with him about mission reports, changes in shifts, or engaging in general conversation, Smoker would keep intense eye contact with you, taking in everything you had to say but his eyes would soften just enough to unconsciously seem less intimidating. Tashigi found that you’d never shied away from Smoker’s presence that others would normally feel nervous around. If you didn’t have time to stop and talk, you and Smoker still made sure to smile-albeit a small one on Smoker’s end- and offer a courtesy nod before continuing on your separate ways. Tashigi spotted out of the corner of her eye that as you passed by one day that Smoker’s head followed you for just a second. That day Tashigi decided to put Smoker’s feelings for you clearly into perspective. As she inspected the debrief of the upcoming mission that afternoon, she began the conversation by stating your name. As expected, Smoker’s head turned towards her curiously. “You going to say goodbye to them before we leave?”

“I’d be here all day if I said goodbye to everyone that wasn’t coming on the same mission as me, Tashigi.” Smoker stated with a confused frown, eyeing his second in command warily. “Did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why the strange question?”

“Dunno just thought, you might want to say goodbye.” Tashigi shrugged with a playful smile. “We will be gone for at least a month. Won’t you miss them?”

“Tashigi…” Smoker abandoned the papers on his desk and turned in his seat to look at her, unwilling to indulge her antics. Especially if she was bringing you into the conversation. “Just say whatever it is you want to say so I can actually get on with my work.”

“Fine. You like them and before you say ‘they’re an asset to the base’ I mean you like them. Romantically.” Smoker blinked at Tashigi and she could see the gears turning in his head as her statement was being processed. The expression alone made her wish she had pointed it out to him sooner. Still, Smoker was a stubborn man and even with her nudging him towards the revelation, she needed to continue to really drive the point home before he could dismiss it. “I can see the way you look at them, and seek them out to talk to. They like you too y’know?”

Smoker couldn’t help but tense at that. An almost hopeful jolt ran through him involuntarily but even then he was reluctant to believe that you held a romantic interest in him the same way that he had for you. Now that Tashigi had pointed it out to him, he felt somewhat foolish that he hadn’t realised his own feelings on his own. He wasn’t a child and he wasn’t some lovesick teenager either but out of fear of sounding like one he refused to ask Tashigi how she knew you would reciprocate his feelings. Instead he gave a noncommittal grunt and quickly looked to the papers on his desk again. Tashigi grinned broadly and used all of her will to keep her voice even and calm when she was all but squealing on the inside. “The next time you go to talk to them, watch how their eyes light up. Perhaps if you went to say goodbye before our mission you’d see?”

The was a moment of silence as Smoker continued to stare at the papers but not reading them. Then with a curse he stood abruptly and headed towards the door. “Only because you won’t shut up about it.” 

“Whatever you say, sir.” Tashigi nodded, watching Smoker leave with the most satisfied smile on her face. As much as she would have loved to have follow close behind and see the next part for herself, she decided to give Smoker his space out of fear of pushing her luck with interfering into his personal life even though sometimes he sorely needed the obvious being pointed out for him.

Smoker strode down the corridors, seemingly doing his routine patrols before having to set off on the mission when really he was hoping to coincidentally run into you. He turned the corridor sharply just as you came from the opposite direction. Your body collided with his and instinctively Smoker’s hands firmly caught your shoulders, keeping you from falling. You let out a nervous laugh and looked up at him, an embarrassed warmth spreading over your face as you stared at your boss. “Sorry! I should really look where I’m going right?”

“No harm done on my end.” Smoker mused, taking Tashigi’s advice to observe your face as you spoke to him, to really watch your eyes. 

“Just as well.” You joked, smiling brightly as you met his gaze with only warmth as opposed to the use caution the others on the base would. “Last thing you need is an injury before going on a mission.” At that you seemed almost disappointed. Smoker tried to keep his expression neutral at the prospect that you’d miss him. “Jero said it was going to be a long one?”

“A month is the estimate.”

“A month…” Your smile lessened slightly before you mentally lectured yourself. This was how it went. Missions could range from a couple days to nearly a year, even longer. “I wish you a successful mission, Vice Admiral. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Promise?” The word was out of his mouth before he really considered the implication the weight behind it would be. Smoker momentarily got lost in the way surprise lit your eyes and how your lips slowly spread into a smile far brighter than he’d yet to see grace your face before. 

“I promise.”

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[pricesprincess]

part one | part two | angst | series m.list

silence filled the air on the other side of the phone as you waited for kyle, your foot tapping against the soft carpet, a muffled sound that was something more than just what you had in the background.

"kyle? hello? i'm not in the mood..." you muttered and sunk into the couch feeling the anger melt to concern which was always the first thing you had to deal with when simon didn't answer.

there was shuffling in the background, and then you heard simon's voice come over the phone, rough like sandpaper but it was still enough to calm your racing heart. he was safe and sound for now.

your fingers picked at the loose threads of the pillow that lay in your lap waiting for simon. "sorry love, john needed me and all the guys came over so i lost track of time." he murmured with regret.

"needed you for what? i must've of missed when you and him had a baby. you know what? forget about it, just another mess that i cleaned up and simone deserves the apology, not me." you hissed.

now that you knew he was okay and alive the anger came back ten-fold, zipping through your bloodstream and flushing you with heat as you gripped your phone. "i'll be there for breakfast, sorry luv."

once he was off the call you sighed and wiped at your eyes feeling the tears finally stream down your and wet your shirt as you sobbed in the darkened living room trying to calm yourself down for the time.

if simone came out and saw you it would turn into a never-ending night and you didn't want her to see you like this, red-rimmed eyes and a heaving chest from trying to be silent as you thought of simon.

all the memories you both had were now tainted by the push of divorce, wouldn't it better to live life like this or try to work it out?

picking yourself up from the cushions that threatened to eat you, you stood and made your way to your bedroom feeling your phone buzz in your hand. it was simon. against your better judgement, you answered the call and opened your bedroom door.

"can i see her? i know she's sleeping but i'd like to check on my princess and my wife." his voice was still sandpaper rough and tinted with something that clawed to the surface wanting to be free.

you sighed and took a few steps back to peek into simone's room watching as she cuddled with her teddybear that she had you get a shirt with simon's face on it. "fine, only for ten mintues. max."

even though you still no longer wear your ring you love simon, always have, and feared you always will. no matter who you dated, he would always be in the back of your mind and he'd always be your soulmate.

trudging back into the living room you gathered all the toys and put them in simone's bucket when there was a soft knock on the door pulling you away from the task at hand. "come in!" you called out.

thankfully with how small the apartment was simon heard you and stepped inside kicking his boots off and making sure he didn't track dirt through the place. when he came into the living room you looked at him and pointed down the hallway. "just please be quiet."

you watched as simon made his way down the hall softly and gently which was kind of funny with how big and imposing he was. unable to help yourself you followed after and peeked your head in too.

it felt like old times when you and he would check in on her when it was time to transfer her to her big girl bed which meant a lot of late-night bedtime stories and more kisses and cuddles to soothe her.

"she's everything you are." simon murmured feeling a lump form in his throat as he watched simone, then you rubbed his back.

"what do you mean?" you asked quietly.

simon turned his head to look at you, his lips quirking in a smile as memories played. "she's sweet, kind, loving, and thinks about others above herself." he murmured, his head dipping down a little.

you met his heady gaze and crossed your arms over your chest. "don't be so hard on yourself si, she is tough as hell, doesn't take shit from anyone, last week she stuck up for her friend at school."

there was a moment of clarity and understanding as you nodded your head towards the couch. "simone would love to see you when she wakes." you told him with a smile that didn't meet your eyes.

he watched you slip away from him again putting the wall of space up, but this time it was a door.

[janeyseymour]

Potential part 2 to Bridge Over Troubled Water. Maybe something about them finally confessing their feelings, or the reader finishing their degree and Mel is worried about seeing them less thinking they're going back to working in the suburbs but maybe they get transferred to Abbott. That's if you're feeling up to it of course

So... this took way longer than anticipated, but it's here, and she's done (and as always unedited). I hope you enjoy!

Bridge Over Troubled Water Pt 2

Part 1.

WC: 5.5k (exactly!)

Since the two of you finally confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve found the balance between work and home life as well as the dynamic between the two of you as teacher and aide. Really, not much has changed- you can’t blame Ava for having figured the two of you out before even you two knew what there was with the two of you. 

That was two semesters ago, and you’re quickly approaching the end of your masters degree. You’ve been seeing Melissa for a little over a year, and it’s been great. She’s your best friend, the best mentor, and the biggest supporter for you when you need to be told it’s going to be okay in terms of your graduate degree. But now that’s almost finished. You have three more final papers to write, one group presentation, and a speech to finish, and then you’ll have your masters in reading.

“You’re doing great, hon,” your girlfriend tells you as you type away furiously at your laptop at her kitchen island.

You jump nearly a foot in the air. You had been so focused on your paper that you didn’t even realize she had moved from her station at the stove to right behind you. 

“Jesus, Mel,” you chuckle once your shock wears off. “Give a girl some warning first.”

She wraps her arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “I thought you saw me move from the stove. Sorry, babe.”

You turn red. “My bad.”

“It’s alright, amore. You were focused on your paper, and I’m so proud of you.”

“I can’t wait to be done with it all,” you sigh. 

“You’re almost there,” she tells you. “And then you can just relax through the end of the school year with me and figure everything else out during the summer.”

You worry your lip through your teeth. “I think I’ve figured out what I’m doing already though.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

You close your laptop and turn around in her arms. “I think I’m going to go back to the school I was at before- at least for a little bit. I know I have job security there, and the principal already asked me about returning to finish out the school year for one of the old second grade teachers who has to go out on maternity leave- at least to finish up the school year.”

“What?” she sounds shocked. “And you’re going to-“

“I think I have to if I want any sort of job security for next year,” you tell her. “But I’ll still do everything I can to-“

“You’re just going to leave the kids like that? Leave me like that?”

“Baby, it isn’t like that,” you whisper and pull her in closer. “You know how the teaching career paths are. And I know that my old school finishes before Abbott, so I can come in for the last week with you, and-“

Melissa takes a shaky breath. “You have to do what’s best for you, as much as it kills me… have you told anyone else?”

“Just Ava,” you mumble. “I was going to tell you tomorrow when we went out for dinner.”

“Okay.” She bites her lip. She knows you have to do what’s best for you, and she knows you’re right. You need job security. And she’ll be fine with the two classes together again; the two of you have pretty much figured out how to teach both classes seamlessly. But now she’s worried about how this is going to affect the relationship between the two of you- she won’t see you nearly as much.

“Please tell me you’re not mad,” you practically beg her.

“I’m not,” she tells you truthfully. “Just thinking about how the kids are going to miss you… how I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll see me,” you promise her. “We’re dating.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But it’ll be different. I’ll have my classes, you’ll have your class, and when we’re together, we’ll both be swamped with grading and planning.”

“I’m sure we can figure it out, hon. We’ll set aside time to grade together, we’ll see if at least our second grades line up to plan together for, and I’ll make sure that we have our time together to focus on things other than schoolwork.”

“You better,” she chuckles nervously, reaching down to palm your ass. 

“I love you,” you whisper as you set your forehead against hers.

“I love you too,” she tells you, but she’s still nervous.

When you get your degree, Melissa is the first one to wrap you up in a hug, peck your lips, and tell you how proud of you she is. Your parents are second, and they grin when they see how happy you are with your girlfriend. They had been wary in the beginning of your relationship, but now they fully embrace the fiery redhead in your life as family.

The four of you have a wonderful meal provided by Melissa at her house, and your parents sing her praises.

“My god,” your dad chuckles. “What you do with food woman… you should’ve been a chef instead.”

“I thought about it,” your girlfriend laughs. “But I’d say being a teacher worked out just fine.” She gives you a nudge and squeezes your thigh just slightly.

Dinner is wonderful, your parents head out with warm hugs and kisses to both yours and Melissa’s cheeks, and then it’s just the two of you.

“I’m so proud of you,” she tells you as you curl up on the couch together. “So proud.”

“I know you are,” you chuckles softly. “You’ve only told me a million times today.”

“Because I am,” she grins brightly and kisses you again. “My girl’s got her masters, and she’s going to do great… wherever she might end up.”

That night ends with the two of you in bed, sweaty and grinning as she pulls you into her arms. You both get good rest that night.

On your official last day at Abbott as Melissa’s aide, the kids shower you in presents, cards, poems, drawings… anything and everything you could think of- one of the kids brought it in for you- even a jar of pickles. You chuckle at that one.

“I’m assuming this is your doing?”

“I had it put on the list,” she laughs. “And I had to specifically ask for the dill, because I know you refuse to eat gherkins.”

“You’re the best,” you hip check her. 

“I do my best, babe,” she whispers back. “I am going to miss working with you.”

She hands you a note to go along with all of the kids’ stuff.

“Can I read it now, or should I read it later?”

“Maybe later,” Melissa tells you. “For now, enjoy your party, and then we do have dinner with the crew after school today.”

“We do?”

“You think we’d send you off without a true Abbott celebration?” she laughs. “Of course we have a special outing for you- down at Oscar’s- your favorite skanky dive bar.”

“You’re getting the Barbara Howard to my favorite skanky dive bar?”

“I am,” the redhead chuckles. “She loves you a lot, and I promised her it wouldn’t be too much since it’s a Wednesday at four in the afternoon.”

After many tearful goodbyes (even though you promise the kids they’ll see you for the last week of school), you walk out of the school hand in hand with your girlfriend.

“Can I open it now?” You clutch the envelope Melissa had handed you earlier in the day.

“If you really want to,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she opens the door for you. “But you can’t get all weepy. We have our friends to meet, and they don’t need to know I’m soft for you.”

“Everyone knows you’re soft for me,” you tease her. “Janine fully walked in on you massaging my back the one day in the teachers’ lounge because I had terrible cramps.”

“And I told the kid that if she told anyone, she’d regret it,” Melissa tells you.

“And then she told everyone, and you still haven’t made her regret it because you love me too much to harass our friend.”

“Shut up. Are you going to read it or not?”

“Maybe later if it’s going to make me cry.”

“I really am dating a softy, aren’t I?”

“You really are,” you grin innocently. “And you love me for it.”

When the two of you walk inside, everyone else is already there with drinks in hand.

“Aye, there’s our girl!” Jacob grins and wraps you up in a hug. “You did it!”

“I did,” you chuckle as you awkwardly pat his back before pulling away and being passed around to your friends. 

You make eye contact with your usual bartender, who just smirks and starts pouring your drink for you. He slides it over to you with a wink and a nod of the head. “Congrats, kid. We’re gonna miss having you come around here.”

“I think everybody forgets that I’m not really going anywhere,” you laugh as you take a sip of your beer and find your way into Melissa’s side again. “This one’s keeping me around for a long time, so I’ll be around.”

“But it’ll be different,” Janine argues. “You won’t be at Abbott with us anymore, and you won’t get to see half the stuff we talk about!”

“I wish I didn’t have to see half the stuff we talk about,” you joke. “And I will be back for the last week of school. It’s really just these three weeks that I’m filling in at my old school.”

There’s a nagging thought in the back of your girlfriend’s mind that tells her that might be your actual last day at Abbott if you decide to go back to your school in the suburbs.

“I, for one,” Ava cuts in. “Am glad that I will no longer have competition over who is the hottest in the school.”

“Ava!” Melissa rolls her eyes. 

Everybody raises their glasses towards you and cheers to you and your accomplishment.

After quite of few hours of drinking, exchanging silly Abbott stories, recounting how you and your girlfriend tiptoed around each other’s feelings for quite a bit before finally just biting the bullet and dating and how Ava won a shitload of money off of Mr. Johnson over their bet, and some good bar food, your crew starts to head out.

“You did good, sweetheart,” Barb hugs you gently. “Gerald is here to pick me up now, but I assume I’ll see you on Saturday for shopping?”

“You will,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“I’m just going to miss you so much!” Janine wipes a tear as she lunges forward to hug you.

“I think she had a little too much to drink,” Gregory takes his girlfriend by the hand to pry her off of you. “Congrats, Y/N. Hopefully, you’ll rejoin us at Abbott soon.”

“I’m with them, but it was really great getting to work with you!” Jacob grins. “And getting to see our favorite toughie soften up for you has been-“ he cuts himself off at the glare from your girlfriend. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.” The three of them exit quickly, Jacob and Gregory half carrying Janine.

That leaves you with Melissa, Ava, and Mr. Johnson.

“I’m actually going to have to do my job in that room now that you’re leaving,” Mr. Johnson sighs. “It was nice having you around, kid.”

“Thanks, Mr. J,” you chuckle. He gives you a gentle pat on the back, downs his beer and heads out.

“I know you’re going back to your old school, but…” Ava tells you. “Know Abbott will always welcome you back with open arms- even if that means I’ll have competition for who is the hottest.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes as she pulls you closer by the hip. “It isn’t a contest, Ava. It’s Y/N, and then me… The Philly twelve and Philly eleven.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the principal laughs. “My mans is here, but I’ll catch you later.” She heads out.

“I’ll take the tab now,” you tell your bartender. 

“It’s all covered,” he waves you off. You glance to your girlfriend, who shrugs. “It’s on us… for our favorite teacher crew, celebrating one of our favorite teachers from the crew.”

You leave a generous tip before you and the redhead head out of the bar.

“Did you have a good day?” Melissa asks you gently as you get into the car.

“I did,” you smile softly. “It was a bit over the top, considering I’ll continue to see everyone, but… it was all very sweet.”

“You know we all love you,” your girlfriend tells you as she pulls her car out of the parking spot. 

“I know,” you say softly, resting your hand on her thigh. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your note. I’m waiting to read it when we’re inside.”

“I do need to get ready for work tomorrow… my first day without my gorgeous girl next to me. So I have to shower when we get home.”

“That’s fine. I’ll read it then.”

Your girlfriend tries to tempt you with a dual shower, but you politely decline.

“I actually need to shower, you actually need to shower, and we both know nothing gets done when we shower together,” you tell her pointedly.

“Actually,” she smirks. “We both get done.”

“Melissa!” you groan.

“I’m not wrong,” she grins as she strips her clothes, hoping to entice you. It doesn’t work, but she knows you’re watching as she heads into the bathroom.

With a shaky breath, you take the card out of the envelope that she had given you at school today. It’s a beautifully decorated card- one that she clearly put a lot of effort into making special just for you. You open it to see her beautiful penmanship.

Y/N, it reads. Congratulations, amore. I’m so unbelievably proud of you- you did it! I never had a doubt in my mind that you could do it, and I truly consider you to be one of the brightest lights there is in this odd profession we’ve found ourselves in. 

I want to take this time to tell you how eternally grateful I am to have found you. I know we got off to a rocky start- I was angry at Ava and my last aide, and I was about to admit defeat when I stormed into her office. When I looked at you though, all that stress melted away. I would realize later that any time I looked at you, I would feel more at peace. 

I expected you to waltz into my room and add to the mayhem, much like Ashley did, but you proved me wrong from the start. You immediately proved that you were a pro- that you were worth keeping around. From your organization to the way that teaching and classroom management just comes so naturally to you… you’re the real deal, babe. 

And somehow, in the middle of the absolute chaos that we call our classroom, I fell for you. I was able to see every side of you- the professional and the personal. I was able to see the way that you worked seamlessly between organizing papers and handling the students in a matter of minutes of you being there. I saw the woman who is tough on the kids when they need it, but also knows how to soften up for a student who needs some extra love. I saw the goofball who isn’t afraid to be the butt of a joke because you create the joke and embrace it. I’ve loved watching you maneuver all of the staff- who even I haven’t figured out quite yet. I watched you grow professionally, but I also watched you grow personally. I’ve loved being able to be here for you through it all- all of the highs of celebrating when you got a 100% on an essay you worked your ass off to write by a deadline, to loving you through when your professor gave you a wrongful failing grade and we worked our asses off to write a better paper. I’ve loved watching you come into your own and figure out who you are. But mostly, I’ve loved loving you. I’ve loved being able to hold you on a good or a bad day, being able to cherish our time together and make memories that I never thought I would have. I’ve loved being your person, and you being mine. Thank you for being my person, thank you for letting me be your person, and here’s to you, my love. Congratulations.

She signed her name at the bottom with a heart scrawled next to it, and you can’t help but wipe a few tears away. You look towards her bathroom and smile when you hear her voice singing softly. You strip down before heading into the bathroom.

“Hon?” she calls.

You step into the shower with her, and her eyes are immediately all over you. You crash your lips into hers.

“I read your note,” you mumble against her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

That night, the two of you hardly get any sleep.

You take the next few days off to ensure that you’re prepared for your new second graders, and then that weekend, you and Melissa find yourselves diving into your work to make sure that everything is just as it should be. You know you’re in good standing with your school, but you want to make sure that you still impress.

You end up staying at your apartment out in the suburbs (you aren’t even really sure why you have it anymore- you almost stay exclusively at your girlfriend’s in Philly) on Sunday night so that you’re closer to work.

“I’ll be fine, Mel,” you promise her over the phone as you’re driving.

“I just know that you’re nervous, and sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you,” she sighs into the phone. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over with you?”

“I mean… you know you’re more than welcome to, but that commute for you is going to be a bitch tomorrow,” you chuckle. 

“It’s a worthwhile sacrifice for you, my dear,” she tells you. “Let me pack a bag, and I’ll be there not long after you.”

After a night of Melissa assuring you that you were going to be just fine- it’s just first day jitters, you wake up to an empty bed. You can smell breakfast being cooked. You yawn, get yourself dressed for work, and stumble into the kitchen. Melissa is already ready for school, and she’s just plating breakfast when you walk in. She smiles gently at you, pouring a cup of coffee for you as you slowly make your way into her arms.

“Good morning, my love,” she whispers, kissing your head. “Are you ready?”

“I’m gonna have to be,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“Well, I have to head out if I’m going to make it in time for the news, but I’ll drive back here to hear all about your first day? We’ll cook up somethin’ nice?”

You nod. “I love you. Thank you for staying over with me to help calm my nerves.”

“Anything for you,” she kisses you softly before slinging her bags around her. “Keep me updated throughout the day.”

Your first day is great. The kids are so excited to see you, your old coworkers are thrilled to have you back, and you don’t necessarily miss the piss stench that would waft itself in from the streets at Abbott.

But you find yourself comparing this school to Abbott- the odd little school in center city that has your heart. You find yourself missing sitting in the teacher’s lounge with your girlfriend and your friends, joking over whatever happened that day. You find yourself missing the knowing glances from Melissa when one of your kids says something funny. You catch yourself looking for someone to share a look with, even if it’s just one of the camera men you’ve grown fond of. 

After your first day, you drive yourself back to your apartment, fully ready to pour over quite a few notes and start planning for the next few weeks. Melissa strolls in not too much later, a grocery bag in hand.

“There’s my girl,” she smiles and makes her way over to you. She kisses you deeply. “How was your first day, amore?”

You shrug. “It was nice being back.”

You don’t fail to see the way her shoulders shrink slightly. 

“But I missed you today.”

“Well, you have me now, before I have to head back to my house,” she tells you. “I’ll cook us up some dinner?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you smile as you wrap your arms around her.

“I can’t really cook if you don’t let me go,” she quips. Begrudgingly, you let her go. “So tell me about your day.”

You do. She cooks dinner. The two of you find your way into your bedroom. After quite a few rounds, she sighs and cleans you up.

“So…” she sighs softly. “When will I get to see you again?”

You bite your lip. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Baby, that’s… four days away.”

“I know, but I’m already drowning in planning, and the kids are working on some of their projects from their teacher that I’ll have to grade, and I-“

“It’s okay, love,” she promises you, knowing you’ll get worked up. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“I’ll come down for the weekend,” you tell her. “I promise. I might have to do some work, but we can spend the weekend together.”

She nods, kisses your nose, then your cheek, then your lips before slipping out of bed. 

You don’t end up seeing Melissa on Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday. You actually don’t see her until the following weekend until she comes over to your place after you hadn’t texted her all day on Friday. She’s worried about you.

“Y/N?” Melissa calls as she uses her key to let herself in. You’re asleep on some papers that you’re attempting to grade. “Oh, hon,” she sighs.

She shakes your shoulder gently, and you immediately sit up straight in a panic. Who was in your-

“It’s just me, amore,” she whispers and kisses your head. “It’s just me. You’re alright.”

You bring your hand to your chest as you continue to try to steady your breathing. “You had me so scared.”

“I’m sorry to just drop in on you,” your girlfriend apologizes. “I got worried when I didn’t get a text this morning or at all today.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately say. “I’ve been up to my eyeballs in grading… and I may have taken a cat nap.”

“I think the cat nap took you, love,” she chuckles. “Have you slept at all?”

“I slept for like forty-five minutes last night?” you blush. “I was up making sure that all of the things for the last week of school were ready.”

“Babe,” the redhead says sternly as she lifts you into her arms. “We’ve talked about how that’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh as you cuddle closer to her. “I just-“ you yawn. “I want to make sure everything is perfect for them next week.”

“You need sleep. And you always could’ve called me to ask for help.���

“You have both classes though,” you mumble, sleep already threatening to take you. That’s really the last thing you remember until you wake up again. Your girlfriend’s warm body is pressed up against yours, and you roll over to look at her.

“Sleep,” Melissa grumbles against your head. You feel her press a delicate kiss to your temple.

“I have to finish everything up,” you sigh as you try to pull away.

“I graded everything, and I made sure their bags were all made up, and I made sure the stuff for their party is in order… you really need to utilize your classroom parents more; how much did you spend out of your own pocket?”

“More than I’m willing to admit,” you mutter. You pull away from her slightly as you realize everything she did for you. “Mel. You didn’t have to-”

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to while you got some much deserved sleep. Now, did you eat before you fell asleep grading?”

You shake your head sheepishly against her chest.

“So if I order Korean, you’ll be happy?”

“You know how to treat a girl right,” you sigh in content. Your eyes flutter shut again.

“I’ll call it in and wake you the food gets here,” she chuckles as she kisses your head again.

Your final week with your second grade class passes quickly, and while you grew to love those kids, you find yourself thrilled to be able to set foot back in Abbott with your girlfriend. Ava had graciously added you back on as an aide, even if just for the last week of school- the lord knows Melissa needs help calming down over thirty children during the final few days of school.

You’re greeted with whoops and hollers as you enter the break room. It’s like nothing changed. Melissa makes your coffee in the mug you usually drank, you sit in between the two veteran teachers while you watch the news, and then the two of you walk hand in hand down the hall to your classroom.

“Do they still remember me?” you ask her quietly as you perch yourself on her desk.

“They’ve been chattering about you nonstop,” your girlfriend tells you. “They’re so excited to see you ag-”

“Miss Y/N!” one of your kids comes running in. She immediately tackles you in a hug, and you have to place a hand on Melissa in order to steady yourself before you wrap her up in your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you grin. “I missed you!”

“We missed you!” the little girl grins.

As the rest of the kiddos come trickling in, they greet you with bear hugs and lots of chatter about all of the things the redhead has been teaching them. 

Before you know it, you’re saying goodbye to the Abbott crew for the summer, and probably for the foreseeable future. You had been offered your position back at your school in the suburbs, and you hadn’t been offered a position at Abbott- as much as you would love to come back. You leave the school helping your girlfriend carry a few things out of the classroom with a sigh.

“It’s been a good run,” you sigh softly. “I’m going to miss this place.”

“Abbott’s gonna miss you,” Melissa mumbles quietly.

You spend the summer with the fiery redhead, often times at the beach. Occasionally, Barbara would join you, but for the most part it’s just you and your girl.

The beginning of the school year starts to creep up on you quickly though. You’re actually in the middle of decorating your new classroom, Melissa holding the push pins for you when your phone starts to ring.

Your girlfriend glances over at your phone. “Ava’s callin’.”

“Hand it here,” you request, a confused look on your face.

“Hey,” you say into the phone, as you cradle it between your ear and your shoulder. You continue to try to pin up the bulletin board. “Trying to get ahold of Melissa?”

“If I wanted Schemmenti, I would’ve called Schemmenti,” she tells you bluntly. “No, girl, I’m trying to get ahold of you!”

“Oh?” You pause your actions.

“Girl, Latisha just quit ‘cause she got a new job. Suburban white girl couldn’t handle it,” the principal of Abbott says. “So, naturally- as owner of the school: I thought I would bring you back! As a third grade teacher!”

Your eyes grow wide. Melissa’s do too; she can hear the loud woman through the speaker. 

You stammer out a “W-what? R-really?”

“Of course!” she grins into the phone. “So, what do you say?”

“I- I have a contract at Old Eagle,” you say softly, a frown on your face.

“So break that bitch!”

“I-“ you pause. You glance at your girlfriend looking at you hopefully. “I can try. When do you need an answer by?”

“Today,” she sighs dramatically. “If you can’t take it, I gotta hire someone else, and it’s gonna be a bitch trying to find someone two weeks before school starts.”

“Let me- uh, I have to go talk to my principal, but I- okay,” you start to think out loud as you climb down from the desk you’re currently standing on.

“Get back to me soon. I can’t hold this job for you forever,” she tells you before hanging up. 

Melissa is looking at you with curiosity. “So, what’re you gonna do, hon?”

“I’ll be back,” you tell her as you give her a quick peck on the cheek. “I have to try to quit.”

You practically sprint down to the principal’s office. You speak with the principal about your situation, and despite his efforts to keep you at Old Eagle, you tell him your heart belongs to Abbott. 

Two hours later, after far too much paperwork, you return to your classroom- your almost classroom. Melissa had finished your bulletin board for you, and now she’s scrolling through her phone with her cat-eyed glasses on.

“Sorry, hon,” you apologize. “I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“Well?” She looks at you imploringly.

“I have to call Ava and tell her I will be accepting the second grade position at Abbott,” you grin brightly. “And then I have to take all of this down to set it up in my own classroom- right next to yours.”

Ava is delighted with your news, telling you she’s thankful that she won’t have to interview “any boring ass people who will leave in three weeks anyway”. Then she tells you to get your tasty ass into Abbott today if possible to sign your contract and start decorating for your class.

“I know we were supposed to have a nice dinner tonight, but-”

“You signing the papers to get your contract at Abbott is way more important than our dinner, amore,” Melissa says as she starts taking down the things you’ve place around. “And besides, we can always have a nice dinner afterwards.”

The two of you head down to the school in Philly, you sign your papers, and start to set up your room before heading back to her house. You pull your laptop up, eager to sign back in to your Abbott email and check your roster for this upcoming school year. She cooks, and by the time dinner is ready, you’re looking for apartments to move into in Philadelphia.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, hon?” she asks as she slides your plate over to you. “I know you ain’t still looking at your roster.”

“Apartments,” you sigh. “I figure now that I don’t have any ties to my suburban school and my lease is up in October, I might as well make the move out here.”

Your girlfriend bites her lip nervously before blurting out, “What if you just moved in with me?”

You have to stop yourself from dropping your jaw. “What?”

“I mean… you’re always here and spending the night anyway. You have a drawer at my house. Why not just- move in?”

“Are you being serious right now?” You ask her as you stand and make your way to her side of the table. 

She gives a noncommittal hum. “It’d make sense. If you-”

“I would love to,” you tell her as you crash your lips together.

The next few weeks are hectic for the both of you. In between preparing for the school year, packing up your apartment, and then development week, you both are up to your eyeballs in work. But you’re always together, and that’s what matters.

There really isn’t even a big shift in moving in with your girlfriend. She was right. Half of your things were there anyway; now it’s just official that the two of you share a home. And it truly feels like a home- much more of a home than the dingy apartment you had out in the suburbs ever was. 

On the first day of school, the two of you walk in hand in hand, having taken only one car. You watch the news together with your crew, and then you head off to your own classroom. She heads to hers. And when you go to stand outside of your room to greet your new students, you catch a glimpse of Melissa. In that moment, you know you made the right choice. Abbott is home. Melissa is home. 

[pennyserenade]

the devil hath power

part three: the victor

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, coriolanus snow x you, coriolanus snow x nameless reader (no use of y/n) rating: e (explicit, 18+) tags/warnings: power imbalance, sex work/prostitution, degradation, smut, explicit sex, a little bit of violence, roughness, blood tw, hate sex, protected sex, handjobs, oral (female receiving), fingering, a general evilness for coriolanus snow is NOT a good guy. i hate to tag this as Dark Coriolanus because i think that's just who he is, but i will do so for the sake of this. word count: 7.9k+ summary: Coriolanus Snow is always the victor in his games. Or is he? a/n: this series was lots of fun to write and i can only hope that you all enjoyed reading this half as much as i enjoyed making it. i'll kiss you on the nose if you decide to leave a nice comment and/or reblog this, but if you only like it that's okay, too; i'll think of you fondly for having followed me on this journey regardless. no beta because life is hard but i did my best here.

part one | part two

The party did not conclude as much as it transferred to another location.

Tigris and her friends had begun to talk of a new nightclub some time after the conversation in the living room, and the idea whisked them away in their states of bubbly inebriation. They had kindly invited her along, with Tigris in particular trying to make a strong case, but she’d declined, citing early morning obligations. On the way out, Tigris had whispered to her that Coriolanus was too important for fun–but asked if she wouldn't try and help him have it anyway, being his old friend? She had promised she would and Tigris had kissed her cheek with warm affection before leaving. Not for the first time that night she could hardly believe that Coriolanus was related to the woman.

It was just as well for Coriolanus that they all left sooner than expected. He held the door open as they scattered out, delivering his charming goodbyes, but after they all had gone his amicable smile faded significantly and his shoulders slumped from the relief. 

“Don’t you like them?” she asked, observing from the corner. 

He wetted his lips, turning his head towards her. “Do you?”

“I’d say so, yes.”

“Of course you do. They’re fools.” 

She wasn’t surprised by his turn of attitude. In fact, she felt more at ease when he was like this: transparently mean. It felt less frightening to know what she was up against. 

“Even Tigris?” she inquired. 

“Of course not Tigris,” he answered irritably. He pushed his frame off the wall and straightened himself out. “She’s just vulnerable to those types of people. It’s not her fault.”

“Those types of people?” As far as she could tell, they’d all been fairly well-rounded individuals. Their only fault had been curiosity, maybe overfamiliarity, but she considered that much better than what he gave off: Pomposity, contempt, a coldness when he did not think to mask it. Coriolanus could be charming–she observed this multiple times throughout the night, as he had conducted side conversations and finished off stories–but he never seemed to strike anyone as sincere. She could sense that, could feel it in the way they talked to him, not like an old friend, but like a teacher. He wasn’t like Tigris. She was lovely. 

Coriolanus did not entertain the conversation any longer, though. He instead took the needle off the record that had been playing softly in the background for some time, stopping the music in the middle of a song. It was then that her thoughts spun back to her music box—how abruptly, almost violently, he had shut it when they were inside her room–and her stomach began to churn. It wasn’t nerves; it was far more complex than that. His eyes seemed to beckon her closer, to draw her in. 

Despite what she had said, she had hoped maybe all Coriolanus had intended to do was flaunt her around the party, to show her the life she could have if she worked hard enough for it. That had been foolish; she was experienced enough to know with men like him it never stopped anywhere innocuous as that. He looked up at her like he expected a performance. 

“Finally down to two,” she said, sitting her near-empty wine glass on one of his ornate bookshelves. “Anything else you’d like to do while I’m still on the clock?” 

He laughed mirthlessly, working the knot in his tie. “Is that all you think about?” 

She watched him as he had her that first night: intent, serious, a spectator to a life she could not quite imagine, nor one she exactly envied. “I don’t know—is there something else I should be thinking about?” 

He eyed her as she moved closer, almost as if he intended for her to pounce. His grin was derisive. “I don’t know–don’t you have your own thoughts?” he answered brusquely. 

“I do, but I don’t think you’d like them very much, Mr. Snow,” she retorted. She could sense that he was not entirely in a good mood now–could see it in the tense way he held his frame, see it in the hardness of his azure eyes–but she wasn’t sure he ever was. At least not in her company.

 “I can leave as soon as you give me my money,” she added. 

“Thought you said you weren’t an escort,” he sneered. She watched as his fingers undid his cufflinks. They fell with a clatter on the table before him, disregarded with an unfettered ease. She knew they probably cost more than most people could ever hope to make in a lifetime in the Districts. If she stole them, would he notice?

“I’m not, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re well above paying for sex.” 

“What? The game get too trying for you?” Coriolanus clicked his tongue. Though his words took on a more playful tone, his voice did not. “You almost had me convinced last week that you were a worthy playmate. So stubborn, so adamant. I thought to myself for a moment that I was lucky you were only a whore and not something as substantial as my classmate.”  

Her eyes grew hard, despite herself. “So why are you trying to make me into something you so wholly believe I’m not?” she asked. “I don’t appreciate being left in the dark, Mr. Snow. In my line of business, it is best when all the cards are left on the table. When they are not I have the habit of leaving.”

He seemed to consider this as he opened the three buttons on his dress shirt. Already he had slung his suit jacket over the chair. “I’m not entirely fond of deception, either,” he said finally.

“I didn’t say anything about deception.”

“But I did. And you—“ he pointed a finger in her direction, “—know what you do is a bunch of thinly-veiled deception. I’ll tell you this: I think you could be an asset to me. You proved it tonight more than ever, with that charming little story about your Peacekeeper husband. You’re as quick on your feet as I’m sure you are on your back.” He quirked a mean grin. “But I’ll also say this: I also don’t like being left in the dark. If we are to work together the way I hope we will, I want to know your every thought as soon as you think it. I don’t care how banal.”

More than Coriolanus Snow liked conducting games, it seemed he liked winning them with an unfair advantage. Her lips twitched, daring to press into a grin. He didn’t find this amusing. 

“You think I’m joking,” he gruffed. 

“Quite the contrary.” She laughed, but it was more exasperated than mocking. “I think you’re serious. It’s just that you’re so goddamn predictable. You try to act above those men who come to me but you want what many of them do: power and control.”

The table that separated them lifted ever so slightly as he leaned his frame nearly all the way across it. “Of course I do,” his voice was rough. He was a frightening man when he wanted to be. She stumbled back. Anyone would’ve. “You do too. Don’t think I don’t notice just as much as you do.”

To make up for her temporary faltering and to show she was not intimated - though in truth she did wonder if maybe she ought to be - she leaned forward too, so close their noses nearly brushed. He smiled a wicked little grin that sent shivers down her spine. “You make me as sick as I make you. How's that for a thought?” she said. 

No venom, no bitterness, just a fact. Her pulse quickened. For a flash, she considered the fact that he could very well kill her. That no one might know it. Was he capable of that?

She felt his breath fan across her cheek, warm, scented like roses. “I like you better like this. None of that doe-eyed, temptress act. Your fluttering eyelashes got you through the door, but only because I wanted to know more about what’s up here.” 

She glowered. “You act high and mighty, Coriolanus, but I saw the tent in your pants last week. I know you liked it.” 

Her mouth ghosted over his own, teasing, but he didn’t move; he smirked, brushing his nose against her cheek, daring her. Challenging her. A far cry from the Coriolanus of weeks past. His past words echoed in her mind, the gravity of them weighing on her for the first time: The game will be different next time.

She could not lose. 

“You’re a petulant child, so afraid of what you don’t understand, contrary to what you say,” she whispered coldly, “And you want to fuck me so badly it terrifies you and you’re ashamed of yourself.” 

He connected their lips; it was chaste, brief before he drew back. It surprised her, and she had to work hard to pretend it hadn’t. “You think that if I do, it’ll ruin me.” Another chaste kiss. “Maybe it might, but what of you? What if you like it? Could you live with yourself?” 

Her eyes pressed close. The smell of roses was pungent but there was a heady scent mixed in with it; the sour-sweet smell of a clean sweat, of worry, of a long, long day. There too was alcohol. She had watched him consume a glass or two. She was sure she could take him on if need be. Certain that she had the willpower, the strength, to outdo him once more. “I’ve done far worse things and lived with it,” she whispered. 

Snow’s fingertips grazed against her jawline. His eyes bore into hers when she opened them for him. “I believe that.” 

Maybe it was meant to come across as condemnatory but it landed in a cushioned awe, wrapped in the quiet reverence belonging to a man who badly wants something he shouldn’t have. And he took it, his long fingers wrapping around the tantalizing column of her neck, pressing gently, an act of possession as his lips enveloped her own. There was no hesitation, no strain; he opened his mouth and she allowed his tongue to separate her lips. He tasted of roses, of wine, earthy and decadent, his lips plush and smooth as they moved hungrily against her own. 

She was the one who pulled back first, searching for air, allowing his nose to bump against the tip of hers as he lurched forward for more. His eyes were closed but he still possessed enough of himself to laugh humorlessly at the impossibility of what was happening. It did feel like victory, albeit a small one. She kissed him again, hoping he felt the drip of regret straight down to the swell of his groin. Hoped he’d feel it for decades, that he’d remember this as vividly as she would: his thighs pressed into the wooden table, his fingers in her hair, on her jaw, on her neck, his want, thick and palpable - embarrassing - as he leaned closer for more, more, more. 

He tugged her closer by the lapels of her jacket. There was no protest, not even the muffled sound of self-satisfaction as she crawled her way to him across the table. He held it down with his weight and watched expectantly as she came to sit before him. It was better this way, she told herself, so close. His pupils were blown wide, his lips red and bruised, whatever lipstick she might’ve still been wearing smudged against his. Even his carefully styled hair had begun to unravel. She could feel the full heat of his desire as her legs bracketed his waist. 

“When I first began asking about you—“ Coriolanus’ fingers fiddled with the buttons on her blazer. She let him, leaning back on her arms, a present to be unwrapped. “—there was this man. Let’s call him Vitus.” The first button popped open, and he moved diligently to the next one. “I go to university with Vitus. He’s a wealthy young man, and arrogant, so it’s no surprise he’s on your list. Vitus spoke highly of you, but not kindly.” The other button broke open, revealing the bit of flesh before her breasts. He could see a peak of black, of sheer lace, and she watched as he reevaluated his expectations. 

“Vitus,” she reminded softly. He shifted his eyes up. They were dark and unreadable. “Vitus—” he echoed, nodding. The third button slipped free. “—said you were a whore who got down on your knees for him. You sucked his cock so well that he shook. Said that was the best head he ever got, that you swallowed it down your pretty throat and left lipstick marks on his cock.” 

Coriolanus’ lips twitched, as though this fact pained him. She furrowed her eyebrows, surprised by the way the words seemed to disturb him—as if he was angry that she had been with other men. He pushed her blazer open and draped it over her shoulders. His head drooped down and he took one of her nipples, which was clothed behind the sheer cup of her bra, and scraped it between his teeth. 

She shuddered, one hand coming to his hair. Before it could, he pressed it back down onto the table forcefully. Her body got progressively more rigid beneath his. 

“Another man said your cunt was tight.” He stared up at her with unfeeling eyes. “Tight. He said that word exactly. He was so vapid. He said you liked him. That you came on his cock not once but twice, and that you rode him until your knees gave out. And do you want to know what I asked them to get those responses?” Coriolanus pressed his lips gently on the place before her bra began. He began kissing downwards, right over the fabric. By her belly-button, he said, “If they knew who you were. Nothing else.”

He pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses at the waist of her pants. She pushed back the fawn of hair that fell over his eyes and he let her. Looking down at him, feeling the ghost of his lips, the presence of his breath against her skin, she realized he intended for her to comment. 

“That doesn’t embarrass me,” she answered mildly. “I can’t stop what people choose to say about me.” 

Coriolanus rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think it would. That wasn’t the point.” He began to undo the button on her pants now, too. “The point is that I wanted you to know—“ The button came loose and he carefully undid her zipper, falling to his knees before her. It was more reverent of a move that she would have figured he’d make. He nudged her exposed skin with the cold tip of his nose, letting his tongue trace lightly at the beginning of her transparent underwear. “—however well you did it for them, I want it twenty times better. This will be your best performance yet.” 

His fingers gripped the underside of her thighs and he tugged her forward so abruptly, it caught her off guard. Her head rattled against the wood of the table. “Fuck!” she hissed through her teeth, her foot pushing outward to fling him back in retaliation. It worked; he jolted, his body falling flat onto the floor. 

Her breath quickened, her body adjusting to the adrenaline now coursing through it. As rose on her elbow to inspect the damage, she frowned. Coriolanus sat before her, running his thumb against the bottom of his lip. When he inspected his fingers, he was overcome with quiet astonishment. They both were. There was a red droplet smeared on his finger, the blood fresh. The sight of it thrilled her. It did. She was not sorry to admit that. She only worried how he would take it, how he would respond. If he called someone, anyone important, she could be in trouble. What she did was not exactly legal. 

“Coriolanus—“ she began apologetically. He rose a hand to shut her up. It was like blood on snow, the cream white of his hand smeared with the dark red of his blood. How ironic. 

He rose to his feet, laughing coldly as he tongued the spot on his lip. It wasn’t terrible, but it’d be an injury he couldn’t hide. People would ask about it. She began to cower, drawing her knees up the closer he came to her. 

“There’s no reason to be scared,” he assured, though the frenzied look in his eyes didn’t put her much at ease. His bloodied finger wrapped around one of her ankles. It melted in the fabric, but would no doubt stain later when it faded to rusty brown. This suit would be ruined. She tried her best to remain calm. She had survived worse. She was always surviving.  

“What’s a little blood in a good game between friends?” he spoke levelly. The blood dribbled slowly down his chin and he let it. 

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to—not like that. I just meant to—“ she sputtered. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No you’re not. What did I say about us not deceiving each other?” 

His voice was low, angry, his eyes piercing. She carefully watched his fingers on her ankle, anticipating his next move. They remained still, loose. “Maybe I deserved it,” he went on, laughingly. “What’s the saying—an eye for an eye? Maybe that just makes us even.” 

Before the blood trickled down to his white shirt, she moved forward to stop it, as if this would absolve what she’d done—helping him. It was just a dribble, barely anything at all. He flinched, though, when she lurched forth to wipe it. He pinched her wrist between his fingers. 

Coriolanus inspected the spot on her finger like he had his own, his lips attempting to twitch into something resembling a smile. It was unsettling, and she was happy when she pulled back and he let her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her softly again. He let go of her ankle. 

She stared into his eyes until they finally became penetrable again. After she nodded in quiet acquiescence, Coriolanus took her hand back. He  looked her in the eyes, wrapped his warm mouth around her two blood-stained fingers and moaned. It was so lewd, so unlike anything she could’ve imagined him doing, and she couldn’t help but show her shock; she yelped as his tongue grazed between her fingers. 

Her slack jawed reaction offered him the reprieve he needed to get them back on track; his lips slid off her fingers and he pulled her closer, guiding her into another kiss. She could taste cooper on his tongue more than she could his roses now. This was against her rules, anything with blood, but it felt hard earned, like a reward on her part more than his. 

Coriolanus took advantage of the fact that her slacks were unbuttoned and slid his hand down between their bodies. He spread his fingers through the patch of hair she had teased him with on that ill fated night, when he had come so close to giving in to her, reveling in the fact that he had her now. And it did feel like exactly that: like he had her, like a bird in a cage. He had her beneath his touch, he had her wearing the clothes he’d picked out, in the house of his own making, wearing the very blood she’d drawn from his lip. Even the slight pulsating feeling that resided there still only added fuel to the fire that she’d awoken in him. 

She was a terrible thing, and he saw it in her eyes when she’d kicked him back—that frightening jolt of excitement that came from the illicit. The fact that she hated him, that he could see it in her eyes as clearly as he had been able to derive anything else from her, did not bother him. It comforted him. She was no Lucy Gray. Not even throwing poor Lucy Gray in an arena to fight to the death could make her half as jaded as the woman beneath his touch. She had done worse and lived through it. Yes, he believed her. 

The simple truth of it was that if she wasn’t a whore and destitute, he’d marry her in a heartbeat. While Livia Cardew was a wonderful choice, and one he was close to sealing the deal on, Livia wasn’t like this woman. He knew that there would never be a danger of loving either of them, that his heart could never open the way it had for Lucy Gray for anyone so cold and cynical. But he knew, unlike with Livia, he could delight in life with this one—that she could make him better, not for all her surrender, but the process of wearing her down to it. He pictured it: the Presidential Palace of his dreams, expansive and grand, and her lying in a four-poster bed waiting for him after a long day in red silk sheets, wearing nothing but this black transparent set. When he entered her it would not be a chore, or something given, but a game hard won—and he knew she’d like it too, that the defeat would fill her with comfort because she knew the depths of true exhaustion and it wouldn’t be like that. He’d seen the hollowed home of hers, knew she lived through the Dark Days just as well as the rest of them and recovered about as well as his family had. To lose his game would be nothing; he’d cloth her and feed her and fuck her full of heirs no matter what.  

He wouldn’t want Livia to do this. She wouldn’t do it half as well. There was a vulnerability to this woman that Livia Cardew didn’t possess, a vulnerability she tried hard to forge into strength and almost succeeded at. It was thrilling to watch, to see her hold her head up so assuredly beneath his hard gazes, to watch the devastating power she possessed when she needed something badly enough. He hated her but she no longer disgusted him; she thrilled him. He’d be happy to play this game every day for the rest of his life—would be pleased to shed blood for something as giving as this pursuit. He’d done more for less. 

Her cunt was hot and wet, and rubbing a single finger through it relieved him more than he would readily communicate. But he didn’t have to; he slumped into her, gave way. She gripped at his arms, let him swallow her breathy little moans into his mouth as he teased over her core with his fingertip. He knew that when he entered her, it would change something—ruin him, maybe, the way she’d forecasted—and he didn’t yet want to do it. A part of him would lose and would remain lost forever, and he wasn’t ready to contend with that truth yet. 

He gathered her slick on his fingers and began to grind down on her clit. Slowly at first, letting her adjust to the feeling, then quickly, delighting wholly in the way she couldn’t help but tighten her grip on his arms. 

Coriolanus was not a man who liked self-imposed ignorance. After returning from District 12, he’d begun to undertake his study in sexuality, with nearly as much ardor as he had his education. He and Lucy Gray never had done anything beyond kissing and heavy petting. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to—he’d wanted to wait until she seemed eager, ready, when they could be alone, away from the Covey, from Sejanus—but it never worked out. He understood it to be for the best. If they had he’d probably be tethered to the foolish notion that sex had to mean something. When he got back, Coriolanus took to the female attention that had been directed towards him for much longer than he had wished it to be. It had started with Clemensia, for he had known he could trust her for her frankness and he found her to be the prettiest. 

He knew what he was doing now—had undertaken many hours in the laboratory of women’s intricate, often complex forms. Sometimes men, too, he wasn’t ashamed to admit. There was nothing he did not want to know—especially about himself. Lucy Gray had taken him by surprise because he’d made the mistake of being unknowing, of not having a strong sense of his character and a fluid purpose. He worked through that, saw himself out to the other side: he knew what he liked, who he liked, when he liked it. 

Well, mostly. She surprised him, but that was perfectly fine because he was solving this too, wasn’t he?

Her nails dug crescent shaped indentations into the pale of his skin, nearly cutting enough to draw blood again, but not quite. He nuzzled against her throat with his nose, taking to the sting of it. He went faster on her clit, harder. “You can never just play nice, can you?” he husked. He nipped alongside the edge of her jaw, ignoring the ache in his lip. “You’re so fucking wet. You like this. Like my blood on your tongue and my hands down the front of your pants. Makes you feel powerful doesn’t it?” 

She covered his mouth with one of her hands, her face contorting into a fine pleasure-pain expression that sent jolts right down to his cock. He could tell she was close, that she was going to come any second based on the way she was drawing her legs together—or at least trying to. Her grip was fierce on his arm and she was uncaring of the wound she had given him, pressing her palm to it. If she drew fresh blood, he wouldn’t be surprised. Wouldn’t mind. He’d lick it from her palm, too. 

He finally relented when he felt she was getting too close, and he sunk a single finger into her, keeping his thumb pressed steadily onto her clit as he did. She moaned, loud and audacious, her entire body arching up into him. With his free hand, he gripped her chin hard and, shaking off her hand from his face, pushed his lips into hers. She came, her fingers tugging on his hair, her nails clawing at his arm, her tongue touching his, exploring, tasting, lingering. 

And then she slumped against him, sated and out of breath. He smirked, though she could not see it. This was his victory, and a sweet victory it was. Here she was: docile, collasped in his arms, pleased because he had made her so.  

When he felt she had had enough time to recuperate, he took his finger from the welcomed heat of her cunt and placed it on her tongue. It did not shock her the way he thought it might’ve—the way he would’ve liked. She wrapped her lips around it without a second thought, drawing it in deeper, her eyes latching seductively onto his. His cock twitched at the sight and at the feel of it, knowing that she was tasting of herself and without a hint of shame or remorse coloring her. Good Capital girls weren’t ever so bold. It took awhile to get them to do things like this, or to even admit that they might like the idea of it. 

And she knew he liked it—that what had been plebeian before now seemed desirable as he explored and touched and undid. The state she found herself in was not an unprecedented outcome as much as it was a detour. She would still end up where she had intended to be in the beginning. Coriolanus was better than she would’ve thought he could’ve been, sure, but it did not detract from the fact that at his core he was fundamentally the same as the rest of them. That in his eyes, which burned wildly of passion, and his mind, which no doubt thought single-mindedly of success, was like that of a million others before him. Unexceptional in his perceived exceptionalism. 

She took her mouth off of him, sucking her cheeks so hollowly around his finger that she made a sweet popping sound. Coriolanus was like a spectator. That’s the best way she could perceive him: as an audience, taken completely with her and her unpredictability, hanging onto the edge of his seat, wondering what on earth she would do next. His eyes followed her movements closely. She thought of his Games—the one with the tributes that could be bet on, and watched constantly—and she wondered how much different this was to that for him. How sick of a man was he? Where was the line, as he asked her? Did he know it?

She guided his hand down to her chest. This he seemed to understand, taking the lead, catching her pebbled nippled against his palm as he massaged one of her breasts. She shrugged off the blazer—which had scarcely been hanging on for a while now—and tugged down her bra impatiently, exposing more of herself to him. He took the opportunity to lean his head down again. Coriolanus ran the flat of his tongue against one of her nipples, while squeezing the other between his fingers. The nature of it bordered on painful but he never committed to it, edging her up to the slight sting of too much pressure and then coaxing her out of it, sucking, rubbing lightly. 

His lips were glossy when he perched up to kiss her. She smiled. “You’re awful agreeable when your cock is hard—though I guess I knew it would be. I think that’s why you hate whores like me: we excite you to the state of pliability.” 

He took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at the flesh. “You’d like to think that,” He kissed over the spot, tending it with an affection that didn’t belong to him. It felt borrowed, stolen, an amusing role he was trying to fill out as not to startle her with the true depth of his cruelty. “I hate what you do but I understand it, don’t you see? I told you as much before. You whores — as you so crassly put it — are like a small stain on a good piece of fabric: some you can hide better than others.” 

She yanked roughly at his hair, drawing a hiss from his lips. But his grin did not fade. “What does that make you, then?” she retorted, “With your cock hard for me? Paying to finger me?” 

She palmed him through his slacks and Coriolanus let out a shuddery breath, shocked by the sudden relief of it. His next response was amused, his voice lighter. “But you’re not like other whores are you? There’s a hierarchy and you’re at the top of yours. The finest quality. If there’s ever a cunt to sink into, it’s yours—“ His eyes rolled back as she unzipped his slacks and slid her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. Her fingers gripped tightly around his base and his nose brushed against hers as he leaned into her touch, his palms flattening on the table. “—fuck.” 

With her free hand she propped him up, laughing against his shoulder. “Oh, Coriolanus,” she purred against the shell of his ear. His shaft was leaking pre-cum and she rubbed some of it down his cock, taking note of his response to her grip; the way the muscles in his neck fluctuated, how his hips bounced back and forth, how his breathing labored. Her teeth tugged on his earlobe. “You ought to get a condom, before you make a mess of yourself in your slacks. I can tell you want it so bad, Coryo.”

His hand gripped her throat. “Don’t call me that,” he said, his voice low—ringing serious, desperate. She didn’t listen. 

“Coryo, please,” she begged. His cock twitched in her hand and his hand tightened on her throat, threatening. It was a warning. She wanted to ruin him—wanted him to think about her forever, wanted to hate her as badly as she felt she hated him—but she couldn’t let him finish like this. She needed him inside of her, the truest defeat.

“I’ll show you how good I can be,” she coaxed, her tugs on his cock becoming more lingering. From the tip to the base, slow and teasing. He was decently sized. more girth than he was length. She was happy he knew what foreplay was. “I’ll show you how good we can be, and that’s what you really want, isn’t it? To know that I can submit to you as you’ve to me? And I can, Coryo.” 

His eyes pressed closed. She kissed the side of his mouth. “You don’t want what those men want, do you? Not even in a better form. You want more from me. Something I’ve never given them. Isn’t that right?” She kissed him fully on the lips now and he let her—even opened his mouth to accept her tongue against his. A man heavily seduced. “I bet you’d like to fuck me with nothing on, wouldn’t you?” 

She knew what he wanted. She needed him to say it to. To admit it for the both of them. His eyes looked so light, almost crystal, when he opened them again. He swallowed hard. “You’re such a cunt.”

“You’re not paying me to lie to you. You’re paying for my every thought, isn’t that right?” She gripped his cock tighter in her hand and he sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth. “I think you want to tell me what you’re thinking so badly it’s killing you. You shouldn’t be afraid of it, not anymore. We’ve already come so far. A little farther won’t kill you.”

“Such a dirty wh—“

“You told me, you said however banal the thought—“

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re just afraid of it—the depth of your want.” 

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He rutted into her hand, the warmth of it beyond relieving after so much of nothing. She let him. As his hips pushed into her, into the table, she watched how the desperation took hold of him. Coriolanus' breathing became labored. She wondered how long it had been—if he denied himself this pleasure. He gripped tightly onto the edge of the table, drawing closer and closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic. 

With an almost sickening amount of satisfaction, she let go of his cock. Coriolanus rutted into nothing with a harsh grunt, his head bouncing into her shoulders as he realized what she’d done and began to sag from the betrayal. 

He gripped her face between his hands. “You think you’re so very clever—and you are—but you won’t win this. Not against me.” He squished up her cheeks, drew her closer to his face. His patience had thinned. “I’m not like those bastards you fool around with. Everyone knows you don’t fuck whores without a condom—even the most cunning ones. Don’t play the cards you don’t have because it’s beneath you,” he growled out before letting her go. 

She watched with mild curiosity as he stalked away from her. It was an act she found equal parts amusing and hypocritical. He reminded her of a wounded animal, snapping at whatever it perceives to be a threat in blind rage. 

“You like the game, don’t you, Coriolanus?” she asked him lightly. 

He peered at her over his shoulder. “I have always liked the making of it more than I liked the playing of it.”

He had retreated back to his clinical tone; measured, calculated, clipped. She gathered her composure and slid off the table. He tensed beneath her when she wrapped herself around his torso, and his hands gripped onto her own. But he did not push her away. He was warm, still flushed from his desire, and she knew he did not have it in him to deny her. His cock was hard, leaking, and he allowed himself the room to want this. To imagine it. They were too far into this now. 

She laid her head against his back and toyed with the buttons on his shirt. She slid her hand beneath the cool fabric. Her fingers explored the hardened expanse of his chest, dipped down to his abs teasingly. His heart hammered away in his chest—perhaps the most honest thing about him. His body began to ease, unintentionally, back into her own, and she undid the few remaining buttons on his dress shirt. He let it fly open. 

Coriolanus turned around. He kissed her suddenly, and it wasn’t like before—not rough, but almost tender, all consuming. “I think we should go to my bedroom in case Tigris comes back. Sometimes she does that,” he whispered against her lips. 

“Lead the way,” she responded. And he did. 

Coriolanus’ room was luxurious, but sensible; it was obvious from the design it was a space meant to be slept in rather than inhabited: the four poster bed, the orange hued lamps, the heavy drawn curtains. Everything was the best quality, but it was plain, almost antiquated. Like hers, if she could have his money. 

He didn't put much stock in how she felt about the room, though. When the door shut, they resumed their working relationship. He eased her out of the slacks and she relieved him of his shirt; he unlatched her diaphanous bra, and she tugged on his pants; he shimmed the underwear off her hips and he stepped out of his for her without protest, without thought. They were naked in seconds and seemed to understand each other better for it. She laid down on his bed and he stood at the foot of it. 

His cock, which had begun to soften, sprung back to life now without aid. He touched his cock in lazy strokes, noncommittal but desperate. He did have a good looking cock, velvet soft and veiny. A terrible thing for a man so evil, so repressed, to be gifted with something like that.  “No more tricks,” he demanded. 

She opened her legs, the air of the room cool against her wet core. “No more tricks,” she echoed. Coriolanus devoured her before he touched her. 

He moved methodically to the desk in the corner of his room. The condoms were stored in the second drawer, wrapped in gold. Before she could offer to help him put one on, he was already undoing the wrapper and lining himself up to the latex. She watched curiously as he did it. He was stately about it, not coltish or inelegant. In this way, he was unmatched. Men usually bowed to their desires but it seemed he led a disciplined existence. He was too important for fun. 

Her stomach began to flutter with the anticipation of it. It was a betrayal, but not one she couldn’t contend with. Not one that she hadn’t before, in fact. This was how the body worked. This was work. This meant nothing. 

“Are you wet enough?” he asked. 

“I’d say so. I must say, you surprised me.” After a pause, she added, “You surprise me. Present tense.”

His smirk was unmistakable and predicted. “Isn’t it nice, not fucking men like Vitus? Don’t you see what a life you could have if you work for me?”

“Yes,” she cooed. Pliant, sated, prepared beautifully on his satin sheets. A dream he had long awaited and one he wanted so badly it would terrify him if he didn’t understand it throughly. 

Coriolanus crawled between her thighs. He kissed her again, hard, urgent, and she responded in kind, sucking at the end of his tongue, tugging on his now unruly hair. His cock rested on the curve of her stomach, present, aching, seemingly growing harder by the minute. He worked hard not to rub against her. He refused to hump against her like some goddamn puppy who knew no better. 

“Now,” she whispered. He nodded in assent. It was all done by his permission, by his standards. Her hand wrapped around his cock and she guided him to her core, but it was he who pushed in. He who teased the tip, he who slid so slowly that both of their bodies drew in a rigid sigh, he who bottomed out and he who drew up one of her legs to go a little deeper still. 

He needed her and there was a certain release to being able to admit that. It was encouraging. It made him throb inside of her. They looked at one another, breathed in the scent of their sex, and it began. Coriolanus drew back his hips, then pressed forward. His movements were harsh but steady. He delighted in the way she looked up at him like that: like he was fucking her and she felt it, really felt it. And fuck, she was wet, so wet that he could hear it. His cock was a welcome entity inside of her; she clenched around him, seeming to urge him in, begging him to stay. 

An unspeakable thing grew inside of him. The thing she had been right about. The thing that terrified him. His head hung and he watched the way his cock glistened with her slick, how it entered and exited out of her. “You’re mine,” he growled. It came from within and sounded frail. And it was. It belonged to a version of him he did not like. A version of him he could seldom control. He did not do this much anymore and it was for good reason. He had learned what he had needed to. 

She gave a beautiful performance, though. Bleary-eyed with want, convincing as she raised her hips to meet him—like she might need this half as badly as he did. “Yes,” she answered. He hated her. 

You hate her. You hate her. He repeated it like a mantra, his hips snapping into hers based on the unvaried rhythm of it. And he did hate her. She was a whore and she was a good one. His arms bracketed her head and said it. “I hate you.” 

“Fuck,” was her response. Fuck. His cock pounded inside of her and she moaned. Her nails began to dig into his skin again. This he liked most of all. The nobility of having shed blood had grown on him since he had first killed a person. 

He brought up the other leg. She gasped. It could not be any easier to push inside of her than it was now. God she was wet. He began to grind inside of her. She drew blood on his back. The sting of it was a relief. Penance. Fuck. 

He didn’t bother with making her come. He thought about it but he felt she didn’t need to. Not again. He was paying her for this. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, not for someone like her. To come inside of her because of his own thoughts was one thing but to come because she did, because she was trembling with her own want and he liked it—

He came. His body went slack and it surprised them both. She wrapped her hands in his hair as he collapsed into her body, and he could feel the heavy thud of heart. Or maybe that was his. It was hard to tell where one began and one ended during these things. He hated that most of all. 

Coriolanus drew out of her as soon as he could. He was not embarrassed. He was startled, but not embarrassed. It felt cleansing. But then he did something unforgivable. He did not leave her with her legs parted, did not watch with scorn as she laid in the filth of her occupation. Did not hate her because of what she was but rewarded her for it. 

Her gasp was as genuine when his tongue parted her folds. He ate her out in earnest, his eyes watching the way his tongue made her react. When she played with her nipples, so unabashed about what she wanted, he put his mouth on her clit and sucked. He did want her to come. Because of him. For him. Her hips jerked and he followed along with the movements. 

She tasted vaguely of him, but acidic, tangy, dangerous, too. Her fingers raked through his hair, and he entered two fingers inside of her. Clemmie used to like this. Livia would, too. He was good at it. 

“Oh, Coriolanus,” she whined. He hummed against her and the vibration reached her core. She shook and tugged and pleaded, her hips doing their best to get away, but he wouldn’t let them. He felt her clinch around his fingers. “Coriolanus,” she gasped. She came once, twice. Three times would be too indulgent. This is where he drew the line. 

He fell to her side with a heaving chest. They were both too warm, spent, surprised by the extent of what they had done to speak about it. In his mind he was building her a cage, and she was already searching for the key next to him. 

After a while, he turned to her. She did not look at him but continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. “How much?” he asked her. It felt customary. 

She wanted to say: More than you can give. She wanted to say: Everything you’ve got. She wanted to say: I will tell you no secrets, I won’t help you, I hate you. But she didn’t. She thought of home, what remained of it, and she said: “More than the first time.”

She was nothing like him but one did not need to be Coriolanus Snow to understand this: money was king, and he who had the most was the winner. 

But she understood something far better than he did. She had taken something from him he hadn’t intended to give, and that was something money could not buy. His blood was beneath her fingernails. His cuff links were in the pocket of her blood stained suit. Tomorrow she would begin to make her house right again. Tomorrow she would tell him what she knew about the men she slept with—all of it. Turn them all against each other, hopefully, ruin the whole damn empire. Maybe she would steal something else, eat his food, fuck him again, see how far she could go before he noticed how much of his life she usurped. Would he begin to blur the line between performance and reality? She was sure he might. Already he had his hand on her wrist, tracing lightly against it.  

He was the winner but now she was out for more than just a single victory. This was war and she was choosing her battles wisely. 

Looking in his direction, she turned her lips up almost imperceptibly into a grin. Her eyes were soft, still teary from the sex. He seemed…at ease. Sated. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

 “For what?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“This opportunity,” she said warmly. “I know it’s going to change things for me. I can see that.” 

In his eyes it appeared: the propensity for being needed. He smiled, too. “It will,” he told her.  

Yes, she was the victor and the crown had yet to feel heavy. 

[madwomansapologist]

NFWMB | shan yu

Navigation | More Shan Yu | AO3

synopsis: After a tiring day, all you wanted was to sleep. To dream, to rest, until you were ready for another day. You weren't expecting for the turning your night would have.

warnings: fluff then hurt/comfort. chocking. stabbing. violence. torture. murder couple. in this house we hate the misogynist version of Shan Yu in Mulan (2020) yandere!shan yu. female!reader.

It's been a long day. A rough week. Alright, those past few months were complicated.

All you wanted was to sleep. Since you woke up, all your mind desired was to come back to the warmth of your bed. Truth be told, every person you talked to were nothing but a distraction from your tiredness. Travelling with a army isn't easy or comfortable, nor it's to have so many daily tasks.

You have knife combat training sessions at dawn. After that, you need to face the fact that you're still struggling with economics. Don't matter who's your teacher, it always takes longer for you to understand any subject of it. And all those weeks learning about strategy got you a permanent chair during generals meeting.

Even exausted, you did your best. But as soon as the troop's commander gave in to the argument of one of the generals, you understood that you reached your limit.

The perspective of finally doing what you wanted bad, which was to sleep the night away, touched your heart with a expanding peace. Your entire body was numb, nothing in it had enough strength to continue.

In front of your dresser, you struggled to undo your braid. The door creaked, and you didn't need to look to know who was approaching. Shan Yu smells like steel. Impossible not to recognize.

As Shan Yu got closer, you saw him on the mirror. And that ruthless man, a breathing promise of violence to anyone who dares stand on his way, smiled to you.

You let go of your hair, and transferred your attention to the rings adorning your fingers. "Care to help me?"

His cold, forever cold, fingers held the base of your neck. With a tender squeeze, Shan Yu's hands slid down to undo the braid. How can such a big man be so delicate? It will never stop surprising you. How the hand that cuts others is the same that strokes you.

"You honor me, my moon," Shan Yu kissed your scalp. He kept his face resting on you, just breathing in your essence. After a moment, he worked on the pins. Carefully, he took all of them from your head.

Meanwhile, you worked on taking off your earrings and necklace. Lighter than when you entered the carriage, you didn't even realize that you had melted against Shan Yu's touch. This was already a common occurrence. A touch with Shan Yu is never just a touch, it is always something closer to worship.

When Shan Yu first saw you, the end was soon. As he leave you behind, a sweet taste found a home on his tongue. A incessant desire that would never leave him. Now, when Shan Yu touches you, he holds you.

You held his hands, and pulled them towards your mouth. You kissed his knuckles, enjoying the way he too melts against you, and closed your eyes. Silence came, but quickly you decided to break it. "You have much to do?"

"Not until dawn," Shan Yu answered. "Are you going to bed already?"

You let go of his hands, nodding. Shan Yu rested his hands on your shoulders, and his long fingers slid across your collarbone. His affection is always like this, natural. Genuine. "Then can you help me with something?"

"Anything."

Looking into his falcon eyes, you smirked at his eagerness. "What do you think about exhausting me?"

Shan Yu's chuckle was just what you wanted to hear. His fingers tightened on your collarbone, his yellow eyes becoming sharper. "You little devilish thing," he whispered.

You laugh. "Thought I was your moon."

"You are everything," Shan Yu's fingers returned to the base of your neck. They slid through your hair, squeezing. The gesture caused the good kind of pain. "It all depends on your humor."

“Want to find out what my humor is for tonight?” You turned in your chair, now looking him in the face. Your fingers slid over the lace that kept your clothes attached to your body. "Or would you prefer to keep on debating?"

Shan Yu held your fingers, stopping you from continuing. "You're cold," he said. You agreed. "Let me light the fire. Can you wait, my devilish thing?"

And he's right. Not about the devilish part, but about the my. Shan Yu really owns you. Not because he's stronger than you or anything like that, but because everyday you can only chose to be his. The part of you that matters, maybe even the rest, they all belongs to him.

Still, you rolled your eyes. "I'm not sure if I can."

As soon as Shan Yu got out of the carriage to fetch firewood, you ran to the bathroom. Your insides feel all warm and hazy.

You spent a few seconds trying to get your hair to look right. At the same time as you wanted to see Shan Yu's reaction to entering the carriage to find you naked, you also wanted to feel his hands removing fabric by fabric from your body.

Maybe it took you a long time to decide on the second option, because you were approaching the bed when the door opened again. "It was only a joke," you said as you pulled the sheets off the bed. "You didn't need to run."

Shan Yu's silence wasn't something unusual, but as the seconds went furrowed brows replaced the smug smile on your face. Then it hits you. It didn't smell like him.

You were quick to pull the dagger from its hiding place, but so was the chinese soldier who charged at you. In a matter of seconds, your head hit the bedside table and hands clasped your neck.

But you weren't helplessness. As he pushed the air out of your lungs, you stabbed the figure above you. Warm blood gushed over you, but he didn't stop. And because the man didn't stop, neither did you.

The dagger continued to come in and out. Your arm burned, your fingers ache, your throat felt like it was being torn apart: you just kept going.

Until the weight above you disappeared.

For a while you were only able to cough. Holding your throat, as if your hands alone would be able to heal your pain, you struggled to breathe. Your head was spinning, and your body had never been so exhausted.

Then your hearing started working again. And as the shrill whistle faded, the dry sound dominated the place that was once so safe. And the sound, that raw sound, was of bones clashing.

Shan Yu's fists were raw. The skin was torn apart. And no matter how unrecognizable the face of the being that attacked you was, how much he bled and begged for mercy, Shan Yu continued to punch him again and again.

“Shan Yu…” you breathed. Tears ran down your face. "My sun..."

As Shan Yu looked at you, covered in blood and with colorless skin, he stopped.

He turned away from the soldier, and for a moment he was nothing more than a worried animal. His bloody hands held your face, and when you felt his touch... you broke down.

You didn't know what to expect, you couldn't think, you couldn't move. All you did was to sob, shaking in between his hands. You held him, your nails digging on the skin of his forearm, eyes unable to function.

When the soldier whimpered on the floor, you both looked at him. How was he still alive? You stabbed him endless times, Shan Yu beat him until all he could see was red. And he was still alive.

Shan Yu stroked your hair, and that made you look deep into his eyes. You saw a certainty, a determination that couldn't be stopped by anyone. Anyone but you.

"Would it warm you?" Shan Yu whispered to you. The world was reduced to you both. "If the world ended in flames, would it warm you?"

And you understood. As if you both were one. Because maybe you are. Your sun, his moon. Maybe you both are one, and maybe that's why you understood him so well.

"Do it," you told him. But you didn't need to. Shan Yu could see it in your eyes. He saw the moment you decided to agree. "Have your fun."

With a care that no one would expect from a man with bloody fists, Shan Yu carried you to the bed. Not caring about the blood, only about the fact that it wasn't yours, Shan Yu covered you. He kissed your forehead, your lips, your blood-stained hands.

From the ground, the man was lifted up by a Shan Yu burning with hatred. And instead of hurting him, killing him once and for all, Shan Yu dragged him to the healers.

The man will live. Not for long, but long enough. Enough for him to become an example. Enough for him to regret not killing himself when he had a chance.

This time you were the one watching. And Shan Yu does know how to make a show.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[formosusiniquis]

not over dramatic (knows what she wants)

Steve Harrington/Barb Holland WC: 2899 | M | Tags/Themes: Transfem!Steve Harrington, Butch!Barb, Femme!Steve, Second First Meetings, Identity Confusion/Reveal, 90's fic AO3

Barb really feels like she should be able to count her time barbacking as practicum hours. She does more therapy here while she’s slinging dry martinis and fruity cocktails to sobbing drag queens and pissed off femmes than she does at her internship. It’s usually the same problems: parental issues of all kinds and relationship problems that need more than she can offer while she’s got a bottle of vermouth in her hand and someone down the counter waving her down like she doesn’t have two working eyes.

And right now her eyes are working hard to stay in her head. 

The square frames Barb has favored since high school putting in work to disguise the way they’ve widened as she walks through the door. Brunette with legs for days, her straight hair hangs down so it flirts with her middle back swinging back and forth with every move of her head. She’s towering over the girls who are walking in at the same time as her, hell she’s towering over some of the guys slipping into the bar. But the heels she has on make the legs disappearing into the forest green dress she’s wearing look even longer; makes the peach of her ass look even nicer.

It’s stereotypical of her, but she’s always had a thing for femmes.

Young and repressed she used to take that love and try to emulate it. Took the crush she had on Nancy Wheeler and turned it into a wardrobe of pink high-necked blouses, ruffles that made her skin itch and loathe the shape of herself. Two years where she could barely stand to look at herself in the mirror until she transferred out half-way through her Sophomore year.

Butch and happy now, she keeps her hair impossibly shorter than she used to. The softness in her middle something she’s come to appreciate now that it isn’t covered in taffeta.

Now she appreciates those girls who prefer the swish of a skirt around their calves. She really appreciates how easy those are to push up, to get under.

The brunette is just as stunning when she turns to face the bar. Big, dark eyes and a sharp frown that’s even more obvious with the dark lipstick. Beauty marks dot her face and her neck and as the woman sweeps her hands under her skirt before settling carefully on a stool across from Barb she’s struck by the thought that she’s seen this woman before.

An almost regular?

“Shot of tequila and whatever cider you have that doesn’t taste like shit, please.”

Not a regular, almost of otherwise. The husk on her voice is something Barb would remember. Something she plans to remember later.

“Rough night?”

Hers has been slow, and she could go for a little barside therapy. Kali can handle anyone who might come up while Barb is otherwise engaged, she can use the tips to go visit that ex-mormon she’s been flirting with through the post.

And the way that the woman across from her rolls her eyes, downing the shot like it’s continued existence is just one more of her problems is endlessly attractive.

“I have one rule and it’s never go on a first date on a Friday night, but here I am,” she gestures down at herself and Barb is only human. Her eyes flit down to the cleavage that’s been pushed up to the edge of a sweetheart neckline. “I mean my hair is straight because he said he prefers it. And who am I that I’m making changes to my hair for some guy just because I’m trying to make my mother happy.”

She has something to say about that, and it’s not just wanting to make sure the woman across from her realizes she’s abandoned her date to visit a gay bar. But Gorgeous keeps going. “I took him to Eden because I’m not totally crazy and he shows up in jeans.”

Jeans aren’t her usual go-to first date outfit, even if it has been a little while, but something about the woman across from her brings out the urge to tease. The perfect put-together air that she has even after what sounds like a miserable first date makes Barb want to make her squirm.

“You don’t like jeans? They’re a staple of American fashion.”

The glare leveled across the bar makes her shiver, anticipatory. She loves a good fight.

“They weren’t good jeans, they were baggy, ‘I just left work at my dad’s used car dealership and I couldn’t be bothered to do anything but toss on the button-up I keep in the trunk’ jeans. Ugly, they don’t do anything for the body.” It’s a very specific image she’s conjured, but Barb has to admit she has a certain way with words. 

“And he doesn’t even dance when we’re there!” She huffs out a breath strong enough that it ruffles her hair and she’s looking to Barb like she’s waiting for her to reassert something she already knows.

“So your second date’s planned for Olive Garden?”

That makes her laugh, loud and a little goofy compared to the rest of her polished image. It’s kind of enchanting. Like every emotion she has is designed to be endearing when it graces her face. 

Perfect almond-shaped nails pick at the label of the cider that Barb had set down in front of her. “No, he doesn’t have what it takes.”

“What it takes?” The challenge is so evident, so bold that she can’t help but imagine what it might mean.

“Oh yeah, we’re leaving the planet and only the best can come.”

It’s so strange compared to the rest of the conversation, the facade that Barb tries to keep up cracks. She’s laughing as she asks, “Where are you going?”

“Back to my homeland, Transexual, Transylvania.” There’s a gleam in her eye and something extra to her smile. Part dare, part fear even here in what should be a safe place.

“You hitch a ride with Magenta and Riff Raff?”

Her tongue peeks out through her teeth as her smile turns more sincere. “Robin says I have to stop making that joke, but I can always tell who the best people are when I do.”

“So what does that make me?” Barb leans a little closer, propping her elbow on the bar beside the bottle that the woman is letting sweat on the counter.

She can see the way her throat works, a gentle swallow just before she bites her lip. “Still deciding.”

“Have you decided if I can get your name to go along with your story of the worst first date since Blind Date?”

“Kim Basinger fan?”

“I like a beautiful woman.”

Her brows arch, coy and teasing. She lets a finger on one hand trail up the neck of her bottle, tracing along the water droplets that have formed on it. The other reaches up to fuss with her hair. 

“Steph Buckley.” Then like an afterthought, “I can’t believe I wasted the time straightening my hair. It doesn’t even look good straight.”

It’s stupid. Absolutely, idiotically stupid that that’s what connects the final dots for Barb. The moles, the name, and the hair. Hell, they aren’t even that far from Hawkins -- an hour south, give or take.

She has a choice to make, but does she? Has she not been sold since this beautiful woman sat down across from her? 

Leaning in a little closer, the bar biting into her chest just a little. She uses her knee to nudge the bottle of tequila out of the well and closer to her hand. Pours a generous shot into the glass Steph had left empty, holding her eye the whole time. She’s showing off, a little.

And she’s close enough to see the way that thrills Steph. The way it makes her dark eyes darker. Her tongue flicking out to wet just the corner of her lips, instinct stopped before it could smudge her makeup.

“Well, Steph,” she says, letting the feeling of it roll around in her mouth. “Do you want advice, commiseration, or company?”

“Do I have to choose just one?”

“Between advice or commiseration, yes. The company is free of charge.”

“How generous,” her voice dips lower. Dark and flirtatious. Barb hopes it stays that way if Steph realizes just who she is. If she hasn’t already.

Though there’s always the chance that Barb didn’t have the impact on her life, that a high school Steph had on hers.

“Which will it be?”

“If the company is included, I’ll take the advice. I could go for a perspective that isn’t Robin’s, I can already predict what she’ll say.”

For a fleeting second she wonders if that’s Robin Buckley, and decides that’s a question for later.

“I’d say you're smarter than you let people think you are.”

Steph's smile turns sharp, smug, tilts toward the right. Barb can see that confident junior that asked out her best friend leaning against the lockers already sure the answer was yes, the one she had been so jealous of.

Well, Nancy Wheeler, eat your heart out.

Barb goes on, it’s easy. “I think you're exactly as beautiful as you already know you are.”

Steph’s smile remains, even as she starts to blush, the red spreading across her cheeks visible even with the dimmed lighting of the bar. “If my therapist offered advice like this I might go more often.”

“I start with a compliment so you know I can be nice before I get mean.”

“What if I like it when people are mean to me?”

“My advice,” Barb says, she feels her brow raise high asking for her if Steph is actually ready to listen. Whether they're dark enough to be seen or high enough to be visible over the frames of her glasses is up for debate, but Steph settles her head in her hands and bats her eyes like the brat Barb has always sort of suspected she'd be.

“My advice is to stop dating bland men with no personality just to make your mom happy, that's the same thing I've been telling girls since high school,” she can't help but slip the topic in, curiosity like her cat clawing carefully at the dangling wire of her bedside lamp waiting to see what will happen. 

When Steph's face doesn't change she adds, “Maybe that's harder when you're just happy she's accepted you're a woman.” Her guilty eyes trail over Steph, unable to stop looking at how woman she is. “But even when you stormed in here you knew you weren't being over-dramatic for knowing what you want.”

Steph is leaned impossibly closer over the bar top. The neckline of her dress threatening to offer Barb the best show of the night, lips parted she doesn't stop herself from licking them this time. Her eyes track down Barb, they take their time savoring and when they lock with hers they're hungry.

“And if I said I do know what I want, Doctor…”

“Holland, Barb Holland.”

Any embarrassment she might feel at the Connery-esque introduction is mollified by Steph's reaction. Subtle, but she thinks it's the first real reaction she's gotten from Steph that wasn't perfectly controlled or practiced beforehand. Eyes widened, body frozen, Barb is a little gratified that her name has made an impression that she was remembered.

It takes Steph a second, before she decides how she wants to respond, relaxing like the last February snow melting from the yard. “Well, I can't complain too much about my mother's taste. If she didn't like bland men with no personality I wouldn't be here. Plus the last exciting man with personality I dated decided he'd been called to run a commune in the wilderness of Greenland. And I like to think I had some personality before my tits grew in.”

Barb takes both digs with the grace they're deserved. It's not the first time she's been rapped on the knuckles for forgetting some people really do like both, no societal compulsion required.

“They've certainly not done your ego any favors.” Barb comments, uncertain for the first time in the evening how this comment will go over.

But Steph seems to relish in it. “They're my second best feature. First best tonight, I can't believe you're seeing me for the first time with my hair straight.” The hand that isn’t supporting her head on the bar reaches up to fuss with her hair, fluffing it at the root like that would make it look the way she wanted it to.

Barb does, much to the chagrin of her high school self, find the vanity charming. She also disagrees with Steph’s self-determined best features, it’s been less than an hour and she can name three things she likes better.

“I put Kim Bassinger to shame,” she says. Her smile, wide and toothy, is nothing like Barb remembers from high school and rates far above her hair and tits.

“Is she good enough to leave the planet with you?”

Steph makes a show of considering it. Chin still cradled in her hand, her dark nails tapping a quick rhythm against her cheek.

“I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“I get jealous,” she admits, looking up through her lashes. The brat flirting at the surface again makes Barb’s fingers itch, but she isn’t going to touch until she’s sure of what is happening here -- and then she’ll still wait until she’s begged. “You’re right, I do know what I want.”

Straightening up, Barb lets herself be back on display for Steph. Feels less welcome eyes on her and waves away Kali’s judgemental stare. 

“Should I let you get back to work?” Steph asks, amused and something else. Something she doesn’t like, yes there’s concern but Barb is surprised by how much she wants what she remembers Nancy getting. She wants the woman across from her to demand her time, her attention. 

Barb wants to give it to her.

“It can wait.” She rushes, maybe too quickly to assure. “As your present therapist, I’d like to follow this case to completion.”

Steph’s smile turns sly, wide and thrilled. Her down-turned eyes are hooded and sparkling. “I love completing.”

They’re reaching the part of the conversation where a choice is going to have to be made. The tone has been flirty but what that translates to is up for Steph to decide. 

Will she be fine with one night tangled in the sheets or in the store room behind them? (Barb has always liked a girl with an ass, likes something to hold onto when they’re riding her strap and she hasn’t forgotten how Steph filled out the dress she’s wearing.) 

Or is this the prelude to something more, something that puts an end to bad first dates for the both of them? (She remembers Steph as a romantic, before Barb had had to put Hawkins High behind her. Notes shoved in lockers and daisies stolen from the ag greenhouse left on the desk of Nancy’s third period.)

“Is that what you want?” Barb asks.

Ducking her head, Steph sips at the shot that Barb had poured barely making a dent in its contents before looking back up. She’s biting at her lip, apparently having given up on keeping her makeup completely pristine. Taking a big breath, nails tapping at the counter in front of her, Steph finally says, “Saturday is a good night for a first date. Much better than Friday.”

“I agree,” Barb says, meanly. They’ve been here long enough she can see the choice Steph has made, she wants to hear her say it though.

It’s a thrill being rewarded with a leveled glare, Steph’s face flushed and a fake frown plastered across her face.

“If I leave my number,” she says slowly, picking out every word with a deliberateness that speaks to both the brat Barb is excited to get to play with and a lived experience she’d like to learn more about. “If that were something I even wanted to do. Would I get a call? Or would I learn that I’m someone who’s been harassing a person in the customer service industry for the last 20 minutes?”

It feels a little daring, reaching across the bartop for the first time that night. Something about it is a little affirming, a little euphoric, as she’s the dashing one this time reaching across that artificial boundary that is keeping them separate. Taking Steph’s hand, touching it for the first time, makes things feel real. Her nails make her fingers look long, Barb catalogs the old calluses she can feel and how they differ from the soft places.

Left hand reaching into the apron around her waist, she grabs one of the pens she always keeps there, and brings it up to her mouth to uncap it. It’s more than a little disgusting, but completely worth it for the way Steph’s lips part into a little oh.

It’s hard not to wonder if this is the first time Steph has experienced a bit of butch charm. Decides quickly it’s better not to think about.

Seven numbers tuck themselves neatly into the palm of Steph’s hand. If Steph is jealous maybe she’s possessive. Barb can’t deny how much she likes the way it looks.

“I’m free Saturday, and I promise I won’t wear jeans.”

[magicpotatoobsession]

GIVEN | Hiiragi Mix Thoughts Part 1

So I haven't been super active on this blog not because I don't love Given anymore, but any ounce of brain energy dedicated to Given means I have to feel the agony of waiting for the two movies to release. BUT ALAS the time has come because @aarinfantasy is the GOAT thank you thank you thank you~~~ Spoilers and screenshots below the cut 👇👇👇

GENERAL NOTES:

How can Mafuyu be animated even cuter than before? Like I don't even know how but how can he look even more adorable???!!

I love the intentional placement of sound and music in Hiiragi mix, moments of silence are so effective in highlighting tension, awkwardness, release, nervousness. Like even 1 minute into the movie, you hear the boys breathing as Uenoyama is tuning the guitar and Mafuyu is sitting beside him. It's those little details that show the atmosphere between characters perfectly.

I like the balance of Hiiragi/Shizu's storyline and Mafuyama's storyline, it's following the manga closely and shows the complexity and intertwining of their stories. It's a good way to juxtapose the different struggles between the two couples and what they needed from each other to overcome their miscommunication! I think the team took feedback from the Given Movie 1 2020 and OVA broken up into two parts when it should have worked better as one longer movie.

I saw on reddit I think that Hiiragi's VA is still relatively new to the industry but I saw a HUGE improvement in his voice acting in this movie, the range he gave to Hiiragi is amazing!

SCENE REACTIONS

This scene was so funny I CACKLED Uenoyama and Hiiragi with their catty energy I LOVE THEM

2. I fell off my couch at this scene HHAHAHA

While Uenoyama's face is funnier in the manga, something about the animated rocket launch from earth JUST GETS ME HAHHAHA. Ok serious talk though how did I not notice that when Uenoyama got confessed to and when Haruki told him he's about to debut, his brain turns into astronaut footage? I think it's a very smart way to illustrate that for Ue, music = love and one cannot exist without the other.

3. OMG Uenoyama's face HAHAH awww man I know he's bummed as hell at Mafuyu's "I'll think about it later" (to the debut proposal) but his face, Ueki and Itaya's faces send me straight to heaven

You know how Ue feels? Our munchkin cat feels like he just proposed to his lover and his lover said, hmnnn I'll think about it. 😭 Chemical, emotional, physical, psychological damage right here>>>

4. The voice acting here from Hiiragi's VA Fumiya Imai SLAPS SO HARD

It's definitely giving deja vu, similar energy to Uenoyama panicking about Mafuyu, gosh I love Hiiragi and Uenoyama's baby gay panics it's so cute.

5. Kageyama is that you?!

6. The sound design and use of silence in this entire scene....incredible, showstopping, amazing, impactful yes yes yes

7. This scene animating Shizu's flashback to childhood was really well done.

It's interesting that in the movie they didn't speak too much about Shizu being transferred from foster home to foster home, or what he had to do to get by. But also, in the manga, I'm pretty sure that they didn't have this scene of a child Shizu closing his hands over "precious stone" but I think it absolutely elevated my connection to Shizu as a character. It really shows that he believes he has been selfishly holding Hiiragi back and that he has been trapping Hiiragi all this time. It gives so much more context to what he did next which if it wasn't clear already, he tried to push Hiiragi away in order to free Hiiragi from him. 8. HOLY SHIT wow goddamn I would not want to live where Akihiko is living oh my 💀💀💀

Watching this scene animated with the noise of the highway really highlights how bad Akihiko's living conditions are. I flagged this because in the Given Manga sequel 10th mix [SPOILER AHEAD], there is this whole thing of Akiharu's disparity with their living conditions so....this is interesting....just putting it out there.....

I also don't remember this scene in the manga, but I really appreciate it, it shows the contrast of Akiharu in the first Given movie vs. this one and how their love and care for each other has evolved! Very cute! I'll make a part 2 soon!

____

My Given Metas

[tora-the-cat]

How would you have preferred Inner Sakura as a concept to have resolved? Honestly, I think no matter what the idea, it would've been so much more impactful than just having her quietly drop off like she did in canon!

I always kinda assumed that, canonically, Sakura came to grips with her inner self the same way Naruto did in the "Waterfall of Truth", except it took place off-screen in her brain somewhere. Though the DID/Ino Mind-Transfer Shenanigans is waaaaayyyyyy more interesting a thought, in my humble opinion. Maybe Ino even helping Inner Sakura and Outer Sakura compromise and live together in one body? The possibilities...

Speaking of Inner Selves, wouldn't it be kinda funny if Kabuto also had one too given his hefty identity issues? Maybe for his sake it's better if he didn't, because his brain would be like a bumpin' nightclub lmao😅

(Also, please feel free to speak on this matter as much as you'd like! I love reading through your posts while I'm drinking my coffee! :>)

Okay. Okay. So. There are like....several answers to these questions lmao.

CANNONICALLY, Inner was resolved in the most annoying way possible. Sakura never referances having an 'inner self' in shippuden (to my memory), but she does say that training with Tsunade helped her work through her 'emotional issues'. I've always taken this as implying that the INTENDED reading is that Inner was just an inner diolouge Sakura had with herself of all the thoughts and emotions she repressed due to social pressure, and Inner is gone post time-skip because Sakura doesn't repress those anymore, she punches mountains in half. No longer having Inner is supposed to symbolize character growth.

But this, of course, would ALMOST make sense, were it not for. Ino Yamanaka. Who, after doing the mind transfer jutsu in the premils, confirms something that most viewers weren't even really considering until that point; Inner is NOT a personified inner diolouge in Sakura. She's a seperate mind. She is another soul INSIDE Sakura's body that operates even without Sakura's input.

And girls have to be strong to survive.

SO. That said. My read on cannon is that Sakura realized Inner wasn't normal and basically locked her in a mental box in the back of her brain for the rest of her life and refuses to think about her, because she's worried that Tsunade wouldn't see her as a worthy student if she was Crazy (because she thinks. she's Crazy). I don't think she had a waterfall of truth moment, cause that would require Sakura THINKING about Inner, which she. does not want to do.

As far as how I would have PREFERRED Inner Sakura being handled?

Kishimoto could, tomorrow, wake up and write a chapter of Boruto with my propisition that Inner is in a box and, once let free, would kind of just chill while Sakura lost her shit, and have a little side arc where Sakura works through that and DOES reconcile with Inner and stuff. He never WILL do that, but, yeah, I think that would work fine enough for finally tying off the 20 year old loose thread of Inner's disappearance. They've resolved stupider shit for less in Boruto.

This may be a surprising take from me but, honestly, I don't hate 'sakura realizes inner is real and immediately banishes her to the darkest corner of her mind so she never has to actually confront her existance'. I think that's ETREMELY in character for miss 'will DIE if she takes responsibility for ANY action EVER', especially at 14 years old. If I could rewrite naruto JUST to sneak Inner more neatly into it, I think I would still have Sakura box her away during the timeskip, with the caveat that we would like....actually get a vauge flashback scene of her actually repressing Inner just after she starts her training with Tsunade, and occasionally Sakura would say and/or think something a little weird that just gently reminds you that Inner is a thing, every once in a while- kinda like what little we see of Gaara before he looses shukaku but after him and naruto become friends. We would only get the Inner release/full reveal of what's going on with Sakura after she's hit an emotional breaking point and needs to let Inner out to help her regulate her emotions- I'm thinking around the time she does the whole fake confession scene with Naruto, but if we wanna give the plot point some breathing room it could just be an emotional spike as sharp and sudden of her hearing one too many people talk shit about Sasuke WITHOUT getting hit, or Ino daring to ask 'hey. what happened to the second soul in your body? how's she doing?' and Sakura trying desprately to change the subject because she has been NOT THINKING ABOUT IT for like 3 years thank you VERY much.

Honestly, I'd settle for Inner just continuing to be a running joke. Sakura fighting with her internally now that she has the confidence to ALSO be loud and angry, Inner having more emotional intelligence and transparency and Sakura never listening to her cause she's still in denial about Inner being a Person with anything worth listening to. Sakura thinking she's SO normal even though she's been muttering to herself about how she does NOT want to kick Ino's ass (Inner does. a lot) on and off for like 3 hours. Things of this nature. I think a lot of this is repeating what I've said about already so I'll stop here but like....I love you forever inner sakura they can NEVER make me hate you inner sakura <3

As far as what I think Inner 'is': it being a training mishap where Ino accidently split Sakura's soul in half as kids is SO much fun and especially has some steller InoSaku potential, but I personally just....Like the idea of sakura just. being like that lmao. I usually write it as Sakura being born a twin and Inner being her stillborn twin sister who's soul went into Sakura cause it had no where else to go (it's a LITTLE more complicated then that cause I think about her. a lot. but basically). Sakura WAS just born this way!!!! NORMALEST GIRL EVER!!!

On a similar note; I don't really EVER write Inner as a DID alter, because DID is like....real. DID manifests (to my understanding, I'm obviously not a doctor or anything) when a child is in such traumatizing circumstances during their developmental years that they dissociate frequently enough to fracture their psyche into different conciousness, so they can compartmentalize their trauma and remain a mostly-functioning person. You almost always have more then one alter, and often (without therapy) can't clearly draw the lines between 'you' and your alters cause. well. the point is that you're so chronically disocciated that you have trouble being 'all there' in the first place. LOTS of people have DID and don't recognize that's what it is for a long ass while, cause they think it's as simple as, like, that one stupid shamalan movie.

Canon Sakura almost CERTAINLY does not have DID, unless she went through some SHIT that was never even mentioned in cannon- which, to be fair, WOULD map on to DID because. she would NOT remember it lmao that's probably what Inner is FOR. But, for the story that Naruto is and the character that Sakura is, it doesn't really read. Sakura's supposed to be an insanely driven girl who drags herself from the mediocrity of her civilian upbringing to be the second coming of Tsunade, so, for all that you can read into and joke about Inner's existance and Sakura's low empathy generally and how Sakura seems concerningly releived that her parents are dead in RTN (all of which I LOVE doing), in order for her to work as a character she can't have too much of a tragic backstory in canon. Outside of canon is another matter of course, but idk. you can write an interesting plurality dynamic without calling it DID, especially in a world of ninja magic bullshit.

ON THAT NOTE THOUGH. Yeah. Kabuto has DID <3 <3 <3 LOOK AT HIM. LISTEN TO HIM TALK. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. YOU ARE RIGHT. HIS BRAIN IS BUMPING LIKE A NIGHTCLUB. AND HE IS NOT INVITED TO THE PARTY!!!!!

[darkbluekies]

I WROTE A THING VERY BADLY BUT I CANNOT BRAIN ANY LONGER. (Pic from pinterest)

It was everything short of easy to settle into Hogwarts as a late transfer student. Between sneaking away from home with their beloved cat in tow, running through a magical wall, and dealing with the stares and comments of the other students, Y/N was making it work. Staying softspoken, shy and meek helped them stay afloat through their classes and study sessions with probably one of the most gorgeous girls in the school, Hedwig. Having her hot on their heels honestly made them feel better- Y/N enjoyed having someone who was just as, if not more clingy as they were as their friend. Hedwig was but a whisper away whenever they needed her.

Usually, at least.

They of course had some different classes, and that was when Y/N was defenceless. Like right now. For months, a group of Gryffindors had been tormenting the poor Hufflepuff who just took it. As long as they didn’t direct their insults and jinxes elsewhere, Y/N could endure. They hadn’t told Hedwig of the bullying, not wanting to bother or be a burden, and they feared fighting back would only make it worse.

But today was different- at first, Y/N thought maybe the Gryffindors were busy. Usually, they’d be here by now. That was until they heard the gut-wrenching yowl. They knew that whine, that hiss. Red flooded their vision as they dropped everything and sprinted toward the noise of their beloved companion.

Perhaps the fools mistook Y/Ns tolerance for weakness. They wouldn't make this mistake again.

Shoving everyone that didn't move out of their way. Their cat was all that kept them tethered to this earth for years, helped them combat their depression and hang on through the pain their family and own mind put them through. The snickering Gryffindors didn’t even have the time to wipe the disgusting grins off their face before the Hufflepuff was on top of them, wailing their fists into their faces as though they were nothing.

Screaming obscenities and insults at the shocked students as they beat them all to a pulp, their rage poured from them, literally, magic enhancing each blow. They couldn't hold anything back if they tried, which they didn't, because they were going to make these beasts pay for daring to harm someone other than them. Singling the one they saw actively harming their darling cat

“How dare you harm an innocent creature” Slamming the student's body to the concrete

“Worthless, sorry excuse of a human” They seethed between the sound of beating their face in.

“Monster.” The sickening crack of the students' facial bones rang out

“You are nothing.” Y/N breathed as they pulled them up by the collar only to slam them back down again.

“Weak. Worthless little pussy ass bitch.” They kept hitting with reckless abandon as their words dissolved into shrieks of “I hate you I hate you I hate you-”

Sure, Y/N did not know a lick of how to duel with a wand, but they had been through enough in the muggle world to learn how to throw hands harder than anyone else. The only form of a fight they had never lost because each one they had been in was to protect someone else.

It wasn’t until the bully was gurgling their own blood that a teacher arrived, peeling the screeching and bloodied Hufflepuff off of him. Hedwig, and the other yanderes for that matter, arrive right behind the teacher to see their obsession covered in blood with the other students surrounding their bloodied friend, Y/Ns cat had run away, probably to Y/Ns and Hedwigs dorm long ago. “None of it is mine” Y/N's now hollow and emotionless voice rang out, referring to the blood painting their skin and uniform.

The professor holding the student, who was still shaking with rage, back barked out “What is the meaning of this?! What do you have to say for yourself, young lady/man?”A young Gryffindor points to Y/N “They- they beat up my friends out of nowhere! They’ve lost their mind!” To which, the Hufflepuff seemed to crack, a soulless laugh erupting from their lips as they shook their head, tears flowing down their bloodied cheeks. “"No reason"? As if your friends have not been tormenting me for months? Were they not torturing my cat just now? They had it coming. They have only themselves to blame.” Tilting their head back to look at the teacher, “If the ones with authority will not do something about misbehaving students, then they should not be so shocked when the students handle it themselves.” Their eyes glassy with tears, emotions overwhelming their form while they shook in the teachers arm. Would the teacher even believe them? Would the Hufflepuffs sweet and clean reputation be enough to save them from severe punishment? What would Hedwig think of them now? None of it mattered enough- they did what they had to in order to protect their cat. Y/N didn't regret anything besides not getting to their cat sooner. They could expel the student if they wanted- Y/N would rather be homeless than stay at a school that would protect bullies more than the victims.

oh that's very interesting, i don't think i have ever tried writing a darling who goes batshit craze, but this gave me a good look of how that would be like! I would love to try to write this in my own words, if i may?

The only thing I could see was the three of them running over and seeing a crowd gathering around darling, and Jerry being literally scared and worried. If a teacher hadn't already grabbed darling, she would be the one pulling them off. A rare sweet moment with Jerry<3

Hedwig would ... probably ... faint.

[donnalawliet]

Coffee or Tea? (Five x Derek oneshot)

I really didn't like the way they handled Five's "love story" in Season 4. And even though he would have been fine without a romance too, here's my version of a Five experiencing love with a human. Not with Lila, but with Derek, Five's CIA colleague. This is set post S3 and pre S4. This is my personal addition to the Season 4 fix it movement. And even though it's set prior to that last season, I still think it counts.

I mentioned under a post that I would rather ship Five x Derek than Five x Lila. So...Here I am, doing exactly that.

Thank you @tuttle-did-it , @ashes-and-starlight and @xx-blood-lemons-xx for the initial inspiration! I hope you like it, especially you, @ashes-and-starlight . (I‘ll enjoy your Five diner fanfic when it comes out 😊)

I also wanted to thank @lookingforhappy for the post explaining why Five being a member of the CIA didn‘t make much sense. I attempted to explain some plotholes that you mentioned 😅

One last thanks goes to @i-am-tardis-locked for listening to me rambling all day, like always.

Anyway, let‘s get going!

—————————————

Summary: After being stuck in a reset universe without powers or siblings, Five joins the CIA to keep an eye on his family. There, he meets Derek and is suddenly confronted with all kinds of things he hadn't faced in years. Some of them seem uncomfortable at first, but he learns to warm up.

——————————————

Stranded in a new timeline, without his siblings or powers, Five was forced to adapt. Luckily, he was used to doing that. His father had once complimented his ability to adapt and Sir Reginald Hargreeves wasn’t exactly known for dolling out compliments for everyone and everything. In the four decades he had spent in the apocalypse, adapting to his enviroment was equal to survival. That included no longer feeling guilty for raiding corpses or no longer being picky when it came to food. The apocalypse was by no means a five star restaurant. When he transferred to the Commission, he had to adapt once more. New manners, new job, new people.

But through all of this adapting, one goal had stayed consistent. To save his family from the impending apocalypse, to go back for them. Once he left the courtyard without his siblings though, still coming to terms with the fact that he had his arm back…his goal had to adapt as well. This was no longer about actively saving his family. It was about keeping them safe. They came above everything else, not him.

Reginald had taught them a few things that back then, none of the Umbrella Academy members thought would be useful.That included obtaining legal documents, without the legal part. In the Commission, Five had sometimes watched the legal department, how they fabricated fake IDs, court orders or other documents with ease.

And even though he was nowhere near that level, he was good enough. It took him about a week to create an ID, a birth certificate and a high school diploma. All of it was a lot of work. He sometimes had to break into buildings to add himself to their records, but he didn’t care. It would be worth it in the long run.

————————————

Attending college was relatively easy in comparison, bordering on boring. Five’s father had prepared them quite well for that level of learning and in the apocalypse, he had become an expert on math and quantum physics. So a lot of the lectures ended up just being a formality.

Instead of writing things down, Five occupied himself with looking up his family. Allison was in LA with her husband, daughter and Klaus. Luther had found a new place of employment, along with Diego, who had welcomed his first daughter with Lila. Five quickly wiped at his eyes as soon as he read the announcement in the online newspaper. As much as he wished to be an uncle, he couldn’t. Not just yet.

Five finished college in record time. He didn’t attend the ceremony, even though a part of him wanted to. Only the weak need praise to carry on, he remembered his father’s words. And he didn’t have time to be weak. He had a job to do.

————————————

Protecting his siblings required sacrifices and overcoming personal challenges. That was something Five had realised a long time ago. But when he sent his application to the CIA, that realisation hit him like a ton of bricks once more. he roughly knew what a job like that was like. It required absolute loyalty, going undercover, a physical and psychological examination. All of it reminded him of the Commission. He would have an employer again, be stuck in an office instead of enjoying retirement.

Upon receiving his acceptance letter and the request to move to Washington DC for his training, Five slowly walked into his bathroom to look in the mirror. His fake birth certificate stated that he was 18, but in truth his body had just turned 16. Upon looking at his reflection though, he didn’t see himself. He saw an old man, traumatised by years of isolation and lack of things like food or personal hygiene.

“It’s going to be okay“, he whispered to himself, though it didn’t sound very convincing, “As long as they’re alright…it will be worth it.“

————————————

Throughout his training, Five felt an odd sense of numbness. He expected to feel disgusted by how much it reminded him of his training at the Academy or Commission. But there was nothing of the sort. No sense of anger towards the profiler during his psych eval, which he passed with flying colours. He knew what answers he had to give in order to be left alone. Five remembered how much the Commission profiler had bothered him, how he had hated getting his deepest insides get revealed in astonishing detail, until he had learned how to adapt.

But he felt nothing. Neither the obstacle course, examinations by a doctor or profiler really bothered him. He just went through the daily routine, like a zombie with just one goal. There was no anxiety when his test results arrived nor joy when the other cadets celebrated upon passing them. In what felt like a blink of an eye, his training was over and he was assigned jobs. And that was when he met Derek.

————————————

When Director Ribbons had announced that he wouldn’t be working alone, Five had been hesitant at first. Even back in the Commission, he had always insisted on working alone. No partner to bother him or distract him from his plans. But while the Handler had accepted this violation of protocoll, the Director didn’t.

“You’re a new and promising agent“, Ribbons had told him, without offering Five a seat to sit down in, “And despite your maturity, a partner will do you good, I’m sure of it. On undercover missions, you may go on your own, but I don’t see a reason for it in the office.“

Five bit his lip and shifted slightly. He liked being able to wear a suit again instead of the uniform that showed his knees to everyone. In a suit, people were forced to take him more seriously in some way.

“Sir, while I understand what you mean“, he hated having to take on a polite tone like that, “I really do work better alone. I’ll produce good results.“

Five wasn’t a fan of the whole respect game. But in order to stay employed, he unfortunately had to treat his boss with some level of respect, despite being much older.

Ribbons looked him over for a moment. Sometimes, Five had the feeling that his boss saw more than just an agent, but he couldn’t quite place it. Despite his request, he shook his head.

“You’ll be working with a partner. Go to your desk, he’s already waiting for you.“

Five had no other choice but to obey that order. If he protested more, it could result in another psych eval or unnecessary questions. So he simply nodded and made his way towards his desk, pushing the intrusive thoughts on how to quickly kill his boss out of his head. Ever since he had started to work at the Commission a few years ago, these thoughts refused to go away.

————————————

As soon as he entered his room, a young man stood up from his chair. If Five had to guess, he was only a few years older than himself, dressed in a dark green blazer, with a tie and light blue shirt underneath it. More casual than Five’s three piece suit, but still professional. His blonde hairstyle reminded Five a bit of the 1950s, but the glasses and soft facial features broke that illusion. Only a few seconds after entering did Five notice that he had been staring. His mind was really all over the place.

“I’m Derek Young“, his visitor eventually said after no introduction from Five came, “I’m your new partner, pleasure to meet you.“

He held out his hand to shake, a soft smile illuminating his features. Only then did Five regain his senses and shook his hand, making eye contact for the first time. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with touch, the sensation sometimes proved too much.

“Five, Hargreeves“, he replied, keeping it short and with no explanation on why he shared his last name with one of the most well known people in the world. Derek didn’t seem bothered by that cold introduction though, still smiling.

“Our boss told me quite a lot about you, Mr.Hargreeves“, Derek remarked while sorting through one of the files on the desk.

Five froze for a few moments. Not because of the first part of the sentence, he had heard that one many times. But never in his whole life had he been called Mr.Hargreeves by anyone. His siblings had called him Five, his father Number Five, the Handler and everyone at the Commission either those or Mr.Five on the rare occasion. But never Mr.Hargreeves. It didn’t feel like him, even though he was surely old enough to be called that. Still…it didn’t feel right.

“Please don’t call me that, Mr.Derek“, he told him, trying to keep his voice firm, but only being half successful. Five scolded himself for how weak he sounded. Why did a simple name break his mind?

Derek frowned for a moment, then shrugged like it was nothing.

“Very well. Is Mr.Five alright with you?“, he asked, almost carefully that time, as if testing out the waters, “Since you call me Mr.Derek.“

He had expected to not like that way of adressing him either. The Handler had called him that after all. And every time he thought of her, his stomach flipped upside down in not a good way. But surprisingly, Five felt oddly fine with it. Derek’s voice and body language was nothing like his former employer, there was no need to be alarmed in any way. He didn’t have to look up at him like he had always had to do with her and everyone else, they were roughly the same height. Five pulled himself out of his thoughts and shrugged.

“Sure, why the hell not. Do you know where in the building I can find a decent cup of coffee?“

The rush of caffeine always helped Five with distracting himself. No falling asleep, no nightmares, just work.

————————————

At first, Five had assumed that Derek would annoy him. He was much younger after all, there were still things like hope and life left in his eyes. His partner went to work with the genuine intention of helping others. He got Five coffee every morning, while he himself stuck with tea. And even though Five could never understand how one could prefer hot leaf juice over some roasted black coffee, he had to admit that Derek brought him some good coffee.

“Which machine do you go to?“, he asked one morning after taking his first sip, “No matter which part of the building I go to, all coffee tastes like absolute crap.“

Five wasn’t one for making small talk, so Derek was a bit caught off guard by the genuine curiosity. A light blush began to settle down on his cheeks and he cleared his throat a bit.

“I…I bring the coffee blend with me. I can give you the adress of the shop I go to, if that’s what you want, Mr.Five. It’s no big deal, I just thought you might enjoy it more. I can’t stand the tea they give out here either“, he replied and hid part of his face with his teacup.

For the first time in what felt like years, Five’s lip tugged upwards. It took him a moment to realise that he was smiling in  a genuine way, like an idiot. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop, a comforting warmth building up in his chest. He could barely remember the last time someone had genuinely cared about him in such a small way. Derek didn’t even like coffee, yet he brought a good blend of it to work, just so Five would feel a bit happier. The warmth in his chest moved upwards, settling in his cheeks in a similar way to Derek. He was blushing like a hormonal teenager, which he both was and wasn’t.

“Oh, I…Thank you“, he eventually managed to mumble, “That’s very kind of you. I’ll just…Go talk to our boss, he wanted something.“

Five quickly made his way out of the room, taking a few deep breaths as he leaned against the nearest wall. Ribbons didn’t even want anything, but he had needed an excuse to gather his bearings.

“Shit…get yourself together“, he whispered to himself, the taste of coffee still present on his tongue. And like every time he felt upset or overwhelmed, the last words of his former wife, Dolores, echoed through his mind: I want you to enjoy your life, Five. We had good years together, but it’s time that you learn to live without me. You fought so hard for your family, it’s time that you enjoy the results.

Five reached up as a single tear traced down his cheek, quickly wiping it away. He was a grown man, why was he so overwhelmed by this? He decided to avoid Derek for the rest of the day, he needed time to think.

————————————

A few weeks later, Five learned that if he wanted to, Derek could be just as sarcastic as he was. Ever since he had started working there, Susan had been a figurative pain in everyone‘s ass. But because she was a senior agent with a long history, almost no one dared say anything about it. One day, while waiting for their turn on the copier, she began to rant about all kinds of problems plaguing her. Five had to seriously focus on not snapping her neck, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Anyway, my son just introduced me to his boyfriend. Boyfriend?! He’s a man, how can he be attracted to another man? That’s not how it works!“, Susan exclaimed and looked at them, expecting nods or general confirming words.

Derek crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked her up and down. Five knew that look. He had given it to several idiots before.

“So you’re saying one should rather fall in love with a body than with a soul? That’s really shallow and sad“, he said and gave her a fake look of pity before grabbing the files from the desk next to the copier. While Susan still scrambled for words, Five turned towards Derek with surprise.

“Did you…Did you just…?“, he asked, lost for words for once. In response, Derek simply shrugged, a confident smile on his face.

“Somebody had to tell her, she was annoying me. Why, do you have a problem with that, Mr.Five?“

That last sentence had a certain edge to it, as if Derek was either scared or prepared that Five would say yes. However, Five shook his head almost immediately. He had been more surprised than anything else.

“No, not at all. Maybe she’ll keep her damn mouth shut for a few hours“, Five quickly deflected, still processing what had just happened. After that short conversation, they just continued with their day as if nothing had happened.

————————————

Later that evening, while reviewing his family’s files, Five’s thoughts began to wander once more. During the apocalypse, he had never really thought about his sexuality. He had Dolores, but she barely counted as a woman. He had never really felt the desire to have sex, he had more desired to just see a familiar face. Any human face, if he was being honest with himself. And the tough survival conditions didn’t leave much room to think about what he was attracted to. When he closed his eyes, he realised that he could see himself with a woman by his side just as easily as with a man.

And even though he knew how sex worked, the thought of himself having sex with anyone whatsoever left him disgusted. He vaguely remembered telling Klaus in 2019: What a disturbing glance into this thing you call a brain, when he had mentioned the topic.

Before his thoughts could go off the rails even more, Five pulled himself back to the present. He had to make sure his siblings were safe, that was why he had taken the job in the first place.

————————————

After a rather frustrating case that had taken weeks and almost made him bang his head against a wall, Five was exhausted, so was Derek.

“Would you like to catch some drinks later?“, Derek asked him as they both gathered their coats. It sounded so casual, in a way that Five could never do himself. In the last few years, Five had attempted to lower his alcohol intake, but he hadn’t completely succeeded in stopping completely.

“Oh, sure, but…I’m not a big fan of bars“, Five responded, sounding almost ashamed. He had gone to bars before, but had never been completely comfortable there. It had almost always been for work. He half expected Derek to decline as a result, mentally cursing himself for being so uptight. But surprisingly, that didn’t happen.

“That’s fine. We can go to my place, if you’d like. I don’t mind it, Mr.Five“, he said with a wink. That name had almost become a form of teasing that they used with each other. Five smirked a bit and put on his coat, a way of protecting himself from the cold November air.

“Lead the way, Mr.Derek.“

People had different types of reactions when they got drunk. Some got more angry and violent, others sad and melancholic, others happy and joyful. Five got more honest after a few drinks, dropping his walls a bit more. And after a few homemade martinis, he found himself relaxing a bit more.

“You’re quite nice“, he mumbled and took another sip from his glass, “Nicer than my family by a long shot. Why? What do you have to gain?“

Derek frowned and sat down on the couch next to him. His drinks had far less alcohol, so he was just feeling a bit tipsy.

“I’m not nice to you because I have something to gain, Five. Why would you think something like that?“ His voice got a bit softer, as if he felt that there was more behind that drunk question.

Five laughed in response, but it held no humor whatsoever. He was overwhelmed by all kinds of different feelings and thoughts.

“Because I’m a rude old man? Because I’ve never done anything to warrant friendliness from someone like you? You’re young, you could just ask for a transfer with someone who is…more like you.“ Five couldn’t care less that he had just hinted at his true age. If Derek left, it would just confirm his world view.

Derek blinked slowly as he listened to Five ramble. He couldn’t completely make sense of what he was saying, but asking would feel quite rude. So after a few seconds of silence, he set his glass down.

“You may come off as rude, yeah, but…That’s not who you are. Remember how you almost ripped Stacy’s head off because she called me a twink? You didn’t even know what it meant at the time“, Derek chuckled a bit and managed to get Five to smile as well, “I don’t care how old you are or how grumpy you can get without coffee. You deserve to be treated well.“

Five stared at him for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few seconds. He wasn’t even sure what his expression his face was making, he could be crying for all he knew. The last time he had felt close to that safe had been with Dolores in an underground bunker they had found.

He didn’t remember what came after, the alcohol sending his memory to nirvana. The next thing that Five knew, he woke up on a dark green couch underneath a knitted blanket. His head was pounding as if he was Zeus giving birth to Athena and the thirst was overwhelming. At the same time, the thought of moving was enough to make him groan.

“Shit…“, Five mumbled and lazily covered his eyes to avoid the sunlight. With it being November, that meant it must be quite late.

“Here you go“, he suddenly heard Derek’s soft voice right next to him. Slowly, Five moved his arm off his face and blinked up at him. The room was a bit darker now, thanks to the curtains. Derek was standing behind the couch so Five didn’t have to move his head too much, wearing his blue shirt without the tie or blazer. His hair wasn’t styled as neatly, it just looked fluffy and soft. But before Five could think about his hair further, his attention was drawn to what Derek was holding. A glass of water and a pill bottle, most likely aspirin.

“You’re my salvation“, Five mumbled and took both. The act of sitting up alone made him groan, but the feeling of cold water sliding down his throat made up for it. “What happened last night? After that…conversation we had.“

Derek cleared his throat a bit and sat down next to him on the couch, his expression unreadable.

“You had two more drinks, talked about your age, your ex wife, your siblings…then you threw up in my potted plant and passed out on my couch“, he explained and brushed his hair a bit more into place, “That’s it, I think.“

Five groaned and leaned back into the pillow that Derek had provided him with. He felt like he had ruined everything. The first casual relationship he had ever managed to build up with a human being that wasn’t his family or someone he had been tasked with assassinating…and he had destroyed it with alcohol.

“Shit…I really ranted a lot, didn’t I?“, he whispered, but Derek could still hear it, “I…I should go, I understand. I overstayed my welcome.“

He attempted to push himself up, his muscles aching from the hangover and hard couch he had been laying on. Though something inside of his chest ached as well. Before Five could stand up, Derek stopped him. The feeling of a hand on his shoulder was enough to make him freeze.

“Mr.Five, that’s not what I meant. You obviously needed to talk about it“, Derek took a deep breath as he looked him over, “And even though I didn’t understand half of it…You don’t need to feel ashamed.“

His words washed over Five like a wave, most of his focus still spent on the simple touch. He wanted to both pull away, overwhelmed by this simple act of comfort, but also lean into it like a starving man in the desert. So he ended up doing neither, just standing there until Derek pulled away again. Five wanted to say so much, but no words made it up his throat and through his lips. After a long and pregnant pause, he simply nodded and made his way out of the appartment. Derek didn’t stop him that time.

————————————

They didn’t talk about that incident for quite some time. For a few months, they went about their daily routine, making small jokes in between, drinking coffee and tea together in the morning. Until eventually, Five mentioned it again.

“What I said about my age, Dolores and my family…did it bother you?“

They were in the middle of sorting through reports, arguably the most boring part of their job, where it sometimes became necessary to fill the silence. Derek only glanced up for a moment before he grabbed his stapler off the desk.

“Why should it? You always seemed…more mature than others. And I’ve known about your family for months. I go through your files just as much as you go through mine.“

Five blushed a bit at the last remark. It was true, he had searched through Derek’s files on a regular basis. Maybe out of paranoia that he was working for the Commission somehow, even though that wouldn’t make much sense. And to know that Derek was doing the same…it strangely grounded him a bit.

As they continued to work in silence, Five’s mind went back to that morning when Derek had touched his shoulder. It hadn’t been an accidental or manipulative touch, it had just been a simple expression of human emotions. He recalled one time when he had been four years old, still thinking that parents were the heroes children made them out to be. They had watched a movie in which a son had hugged his father and his toddler mind had decided to recreate it. But instead of hugging him back, Reginald had pushed him away and sent him to bed without dessert.

Never trust a hug, he had sternly told his adoptive son, For it’s just another way to hide your face.

Ever since then, he hadn’t attempted to hug another human being. But that had been over five decades ago, surely it couldn’t hurt to…

“Could I try something?“, Five broke the silence once more. He hated how uncertain and young he sounded, like a teenager or child, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Derek noticed his different tone too, but decided not to comment on it. During the entire time that they had worked with each other, he had noticed that some things took more out of Five than the average person. So he simply nodded and stood up as Five approached, his arms hanging loosely at his sides until he realised what the other man was planning. Once the realisation dawned on him, he couldn’t hold back a smirk and lift his arms slightly.

It took Five a few seconds to bring himself to lean into the hug. The second that he did, fireworks went off in his brain. Sparks of colour and noise, all blending together into one picture. It was overwhelming, but he needed more. It was beautiful and hurt his eyes at the same time.

For just a few moments, everything melted away and time stood still. This wouldn’t heal all of his wounds by any means. He was still damaged, maybe beyond complete repair. But it was a start at least, a bandage on his cuts so they wouldn’t get infected. Even though he knew it wouldn’t last, Five allowed himself to feel happy, just for a few seconds.

————————————

During one of his days off, while watching a movie that Allison had recommended to him, Five’s phone buzzed. Strange, his siblings never texted him. They always called, ever since the attemp at a group chat had gone south. So he unlocked his phone and glanced at the text.

Derek: Hey, 5.  The pipes in my appartment burst and it will take a few days until it’s fixed. Would you mind if I maybe crashed on your couch?

For a few seconds, Five contemplated his choices. He could just say no, spare himself the trouble. But on the other hand…he wouldn’t mind not being alone for a few days.

Five: Sure, just stop by. You know the address, right?

Instead of getting a written response, he simply received an emoji of a hand holding its thumb up. Five still hadn’t completely understood the appeal of those modern hieroglyphics. He really was an old man.

Derek arrived not even half an hour later, carrying a bag that held the bare essentials. A few changes of clothes, toiletries and a book or two for entertainment. Five was sitting on the couch, on which he had placed a spare blanket and pillow for him. One cup of coffe rested in his hands and on the small table in front of him…

“You made me tea?“, Derek asked as he set his bag down and went to join him on the couch. The TV was on, playing a movie that he recognised as Brokeback Mountain. Normally he had always been the one to prepare their drinks and he hadn’t minded it either.

Five nodded, fiddling with his own fingers as he watched him pick up the cup. He had been a bit nervous about getting it right. Tea wasn’t his department after all. But the way Derek exhaled after taking his first sip, he knew that he must have done something right.

“Thank you, I appreciate it“, Derek smiled and kept his hands around the warm mug as he inhaled the familiar scent of green tea. It was quite comforting, just like Five’s presence next to him.

As the movie progressed, they both ended up shifting a bit more towards the middle of the couch. Sometimes Derek moved, sometimes Five did, almost like a dance, until they eventually touched shoulders. Five found himself relaxing sooner than the previous timest hey had touched.

When Derek’s hand moved to cover his own, he didn’t stop him, looking forward at the screen. It was slightly overwhelming, but nothing he couldn’t handle. During the climax of the movie however, Five gulped heavily and slowly turned towards Derek, who did the same.

“I’m way too old for you“, he attempted to lighten the mood, but it came out much weaker and desperate. At this point he could see every little detail of Derek’s eyes, the way the colours mixed together, every little imperfection and vein.

Derek cleared his throat slightly, for once not as light hearted. He seemed not as clueless as Five, but hesitant nonetheless. The coffee and tea on the table had been forgotten long ago.

“Your age is the least of my concerns right now“, he whispered back and readjusted his glasses before he repeated the same words that Five had said to him a few months ago, “Could I try something?“

At that point, Five felt like he was drowning. He felt lost, a sensation he had become rather familiar with. He could end this all with one simple word or one shake of his head, for he knew that Derek would respect his consent. But at the same time, he didn’t want to let this opportunity go. So despite not having taken in a breath for almost a minute, he found himself nodding.

Their lips didn’t touch. It wasn’t a desperate kiss like in romance movies meant for teenagers. Instead, it was a soft kiss on his cheek that he felt…warm and without the pressure to do more, not that Five would want that. Like a ray of sunshine warming his skin in the morning, right before the worries of life fully registered in his mind. Derek smiled as Five practically melted into the touch, pulling away after a few seconds.

“Good?“, he asked carefully, just to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. Five smiled a bit and brushed his chaotic hair back behind his ears.

“Yeah, good“, Five simply replied and pulled his legs up against his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he would ever be ready for a proper kiss or saying the three words that seemed to fall from people’s lips so easily. But that maybe wasn’t necessary. They communicated that through other means. Like how Derek prepared Five’s coffee in the morning or how Five’s expression lit up when his desk partner entered the room.

————————————

On the first of October in 2025, they decided to move in with each other. Five teased that it was merely to reduce costs, since they spent most of the time in Derek’s appartment anyway. It had much more life than Five’s place, with small things that made it feel like home. And getting his coffee before work certainly had its advantages. Derek simply smiled at that explanation, not bothering to engage in a meaningless discussion. Instead, he grabbed his coat and handed Five his cup.

“Happy Birthday, Mr.Five“, he said with a wink before heading off to work, leaving a frozen Five behind.

————————————

A few days after his birthday, Five started his investigation into the Keepers support group. Going undercover meant that he had to put on a disguise, so he went for a mix of Top Gun enthusiast and school janitor. The mustache had been his idea, mainly because he missed the facial hair he used to have. It at least made him look a bit older.

Derek chuckled the first time he saw him in disguise. It wasn’t clear whether he was simply amused or making fun of Five.

“What?“

Five couldn’t help but sound a bit defensive. He hadn’t gone completely over the top, right? No, this was simply a cover, for security purposes.

Derek stepped forward, carefully tracing the mustache and making sure it was secure. Five sometimes got figuratively sick at how soft he looked with such simple gestures.

“Nothing. I think it works, Mr.Five“, he responded and looked him over from top to bottom, “You should get going now or you’ll be late.“

Of course, Five couldn’t have that. He still had work to do. By going on undercover missions, he could rise through the ranks and gain more information on how to keep his siblings safe. But despite all of that…At the end of the day, enjoying coffee or tea wouldn’t hurt.

————————————

I hoped you enjoyed this oneshot! I certainly enjoyed writing it, distracting myself from the mess we got in Season 4.

If you liked it, leave a like or a comment. It really makes my day and encourages me to keep going. Also, I would have an idea for a smaller additional chapter, set during Season 4. It would also have some angst. Would you be interested in that? If you are, let me know!

Until next time,

-Donna Lawliet

[rock-n-macabre]

Guilty as Charged - Severen x fem!reader

✨ This is a one-shot based off of the Severen x reader series, requested by @sailormoon181 with a request of Severen's gal being one with a zest for getting in trouble, and he has to discipline 'em ...but did Severen bite off more than he can chew? (Like always. Gluttonous rabid possum man.) ✨

I giggle and hold up the stolen garment up to Severen for his approval.

"We can transfer your pins and patches to this thing. Just gotta get me a seam ripper, and I'll start on it!" I beam with enthusiasm. I was determined on helping revive his tattered trophy jacket after the 18 wheeler fiasco.

Everyone turns in the RV, including Jesse who spares a quick glance over his shoulder before his eyes widen for a moment.

"Did you jus' steal that from that vendor on the boardwalk?" Jesse questioned me.

With a mischievous grin spreading across my lips , I give a small nod.

"No one saw a thing, swear on it, Jess'! I jus' couldn't handle hearing Sev lament about his unfixable jacket. Believe me, that thing was tattered beyond repair. You know me...I'd do anything to make him happy." I bat my eyelashes, which by no means worked on the seasoned veteran.

Jesse slammed his hand down on the steering wheel.

"Were you even aware of the surveillance cameras around?"

"I....but...."

"Or the people in the surrounding stalls attempting at selling their goods while y'all flamboyant fuckers were causing a scene?"

"Well ~I~ was being quiet, Sev on the other hand....."

"OH GODDAMNIT ENOUGH! Can't we have one night where we don't have to worry about you both causing mayhem?! I expected better of you. Him? We're used to it by now. That was a risky move, Y/N. Too damn risky." Jesse growled before focusing back on the road.

"Jess' , c'mon now, she didn' mean to...." Severen started before Jesse cut him off.

"The two of you enable each other way too damn much! Now... Since you've been with us much longer, Severen, I trust in you to... discipline Y/N. You nipped 'em, so you'll teach 'em." Jesse finished the conversation, leaving Severen to look in between Y/N and Jesse before looking up to Diamondback for guidance. She let out a small laugh and shrug.

"This is gonna end up well .... " She rolled her eyes as Homer scoffed.

"Y/N is just as bad as Severen in regards to that! Discipline? More like treat them. There'll be no learning done!" Homer groaned.

Diamondback laughed as she knew all too well of the moments where Severen 'disciplined' Y/N. It was just like how Severen got pure enjoyment out of his scoldings. The two were cut from the same cloth; it was both a blessing and a curse.

Severen had a glint of mischief in his eyes as he reached out his hand for Y/N to take hold of as he helped them up.

"Now, now, darlin'.... I reckon I oughta teach ya a lesson. Only outlaw allowed to make like a bandit is yours truly... Not a sweet li'l thing like yerself.....ya don't want ta get in any trouble now, would ya, honey pie?" He smirked as he led Y/N to the back corner of the RV out of sight from others.

I looked up at him as I followed his lead. I knew damn well the punishment he had in mind wasn't gonna do no good. It just made me want to repeat offend. He knew it damn well, too.

He took a seat before he brought me down to sprawl across his lap.

"Now, darlin'.... After each...tap .. I want ya to thank me. I saved yer behind. It's the leas' ya could do." He smirked. I barely had any time to react when he delivered the first smack across my ass. He probably thought he was being courteous by giving a small rub and squeeze after.

"T-thank you, Sev! Ahhh..." I give a small groan and he goes to deliver another smack.

"Tha's a good girl, darlin'!" He cooed, before rubbing again after the smack.

The smacks and the "thank you's" lasted for about 10 times before I started to cave. Words becoming jumbled into the pillow on the ground. Severen stopped for a moment to gently lift my head up, his hands clamped around my cheeks.

"Wha' was that, honey? Couldn' hear ya." He smirked.

I groaned as I looked at him, eyes half lidded.

"Sev...please ..." Severen tutted me.

"Now 'm glad yer using yer manners like a good girl, but I'm lookin' fer 'thank you', not please....but..I guess beggin' works good too....ya know how much I love to hear ya beg for me, darlin'.... It does things...." He slipped his hand back down lower to feel in between my legs before I looked up and gave a chuckle.

"Now, sugar ...by the looks of things, I reckon you rather enjoyed your punishment..." His gaze stayed locked on mine.I give a lazy grin before rolling so I'm laying face up on his lap.

"I reckon you're right, cowboy. Guilty as charged."

A look of amusement comes across Severen's face before turning to a devious expression that would make the devil tremble.

"Now that just won't do, huh darlin'? Jess' told me to give ya a learnin', and I intend on doin' so." I have barely time to react as he tackles me to the floor, pinning me down, before reaching for a pair of handcuffs he had stolen off a cop. In a fluid motion, he cuffed my wrists before sitting back on his heels and looking at me.

"You'll have to behave yerself fer me, okay honey?" He grinned as he booped my nose. Ugh that man.

"You've GOT to be kidding me. Severen, I swear --" I get cut off by him tying one of the kerchiefs he had, using it as a makeshift gag in my mouth. He crouches down so his face is mere inches from mine. My eyes narrow at him.

"No back talkin' your elders now, sweetheart. Tell ya what...if ya behave....I'll treat ya nice. Jus' gotta sit still for the next....I'd say two an' a half hours.... Ya can be a good gal for me and I'll come back for ya. Swear on it." He winked before placing a kiss on my forehead.

He started to head towards the main quarters of the RV, before he turned around to look at me.

"This oughta learn ya to behave...even though it was a mighty cute gesture. I gotta admit....Ya look pretty when yer all tied up, darlin'." He said before leaving me to my lonesome.

Joke's on him.... I'll never behave. He probably knows it too. I chuckle to myself, shifting a little bit. He was just as bad. I guess it was punishment in the end the way he just left me hanging after riling me up. Deep down I knew he was biting at the bit to finish what he started. I could see his shadow sitting down, his leg bouncing on anticipation. I was right. I, too, was driving him wild.

And that's what makes it all so damn fun.

[nominzn]

Try Hard II

punk bassist!jeno x female!reader genre: fluff wc: 2k part I - part III a/n: this is a bit longer than I'd planned and maybe there's too much chenji best friend agenda. I did it for me and my fellow chenji baddies. this is so cute and honestly i hope you read it well <3disclaimers: mentions of piercings, some swearing. i'm not sorry for having done these edits of jeno with a labret piercing.

[6:58am] 

jisung: wake the fuck up  jisung: we’re gonna be late jisung: cmon LOSER jisung: fr i don’t wanna come into your room jisung: i’m gonna lose my mind and scream if you don't get up rn

the faint buzz under the pillow rolled you out of your sleep, lazily you got the electronic device in your hands, seeing your friend’s notifications. shit, you thought. snoozing would get you in trouble once again. great.

getting out of bed was harder than you thought. dragging your feet, you made your way towards the door so as to open it for jisung. he sighed in relief upon seeing you and happily got in after you motioned for him to enter the space. “you gotta stop snoozing. for real.” he whispered, not wanting to get on your bad side so early. you mumbled ‘good morning to you too’ in response. he chuckled lightly and watched as you gathered your things to get ready.

-

after that day’s lecture, having cooled off from the hectic run to avoid being late, chenle, jisung and you were hanging out near some other students on campus. the bodypiercer placed a finger under your chin and took a closer look at your recent piercing. “how’s it healing?”

“is it what you wanted?” his question implied another meaning, which you acknowledged by his discreet wink. 

you held back a grin, glancing away from your friends. and as if the universe was trying to play a prank on you, you see him. confidently walking around one of the halls heading the opposite direction from the three of you. his bass kept him company, as usual. jeno probably felt your eyes on him because he quickly scanned the area over his shoulder seemingly looking for something he didn’t find.

“it is.” you said to your friend, who smirked, realizing you understood his intentions. “but I’ve got to try harder, you know?”

“isn’t it just soap and saline solution to clean up? how the hell could you try harder than that?” jisung pointed out and both you and chenle grinned knowingly, nodding at his direction at the same time. “you’re weird.”

“what’s up, renjun?” the purple haired announced the third boy’s proximity. he held a friendly smile on his lips as he took the remaining steps towards the group to have a seat next to you. 

renjun was the coolest and sweetest guy on campus, everybody knew him for outdoing all other international relations students and for his insane parties. the boy went all for having fun and making the most of his college experience while working his ass off to be the best he could be. just impossible, people would say. nobody dared to say a bad thing about him, though; hoping to God to be invited to one of his famous events. that had never been a problem for you. since chenle was his childhood friend, you eventually became friendly with each other. 

“you’re coming on saturday?” he asked, expectant eyes looking at each of you, when he landed on your forced grin. “no! you’re coming!” he shook his head negatively. “please? louise is gonna be there, you’re the closest thing to a friend she has.” louise was his situationship and the girl from the same class you’d been hanging out with since she transferred. “please?” 

you tried looking away from the three pair of eyes that expected your answer, already acknowledging no wasn’t possible. it’d been a while since you went out and spent time with lou and some other friends. “alright, alright! i’m going.”

-

jeno’s fingertips were sore from playing his acoustic bass by now, but he didn’t mind. he’d been absentmindedly following the melody of creep by radiohead, his favorite song. it wasn’t like he didn’t notice people were intimidated by him frequently and that had never bothered him, not until it stopped him from being closer to someone he liked. 

he became hyper aware of people taking glances at him and moving awkwardly to the side so he could go on walking. also the stutters when he asked to take part in group projects, which never lasted long after people got to know him, started to annoy him a lot. most of the time they seemed to think he was tough and mean, even though that was far from the truth. 

the boy even considered changing his style, quitting the band or whatever change he could make to seem more likable. however, that was just who he was, so he was trying to shut up those foolish ideas by drowning himself in music once again. 

ARCADERS AKA BEST BAND ever 

haechan: bow down to ur king haechan: SUMMONING THIS BAND where r y’all haechan: fr i need to tell u guys smth haechan: URGENT SOS HELLO R U THERE

jeno: what the fuck is this about 

no sooner did the non-stop dings coming from the phone on the floor broke his trance, than he was checking the band’s group chat.

jaemin: this is good jaemin: he’s not joking

jisung: well where is he now

haechan: glad to know i’m so loved

jisung: uhm embarrassing ..?

haechan: n e ways got us a gig on thursday

jaemin: TELL THEM WHERE IT IS

jeno: hope it’s not wild’s hated playing there 

haechan: i’d tell u to guess but i’m just losing my mind  haechan: it’s ANL 

jisung: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT 

haechan: yeah invite chenle and our groupie she’s got to be there

chenle, jisung and you were on the way back home when the tallest suddenly stopped on his track, staring at his phone screen for a few minutes, white as a sheet. having no idea what was going on, you tried shaking him and asking what was going on a few times but he just smiled brightly and turned his messages for both of you to read.

“oh my GOD!” you yelled.

“NO WAY, JISUNG! ARCADERS AT ANL.”

“you guys HAVE to be there!” his friends ruffled his hair lovingly.

-

you were alone at the bar, waiting for your fifth drink to be done. the atmosphere tonight was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. the band was already backstage getting ready for they’d play soon, but oh were they shaking. they had been waiting for this opportunity for quite some time, it almost didn’t feel real for them. ANL was the biggest pub around and it was well-known for having introduced the best local rock musicians.

the bartender handed the beautiful pink drink to you and your journey to meet your friends in the back started. the place was packed, so walking was difficult. you recognized a few faces on the way and had a few dialogs here and there. many friends of the boys stopped you to ask about them or wish good luck. 

you entered a door and found them inside the small room, haechan being the first to see you. “GROUPIE!” he exclaimed and the boys turned around to see you at the door. jisung sighed in relief and clung onto you.

“i’m so nervous.” the words slipped out of his lips when his face was buried in your hair. 

“you can do this, ji. you’re the best drummer. our rockstar!” you could feel his smile on his cheek, then he let you go to say your hellos.

you scanned the room almost as bright eyed as them, stopping at jeno. he looked so… good, it took everything in you not to look like a fool. the chains on his neck complemented his pretty eye makeup so well, not to mention the leather jacket hugging his strong arms and back. you couldn’t help but notice his lips were glistening and a new black jewelry was there, a labret piercing. of course he noticed you staring, but you only realized that when your eyes found his. this time, neither of you looked away. the intensity flickering in his orbs woke the damn butterflies in your stomach and you had to fight back the urge to kiss him. ‘one more drink and you’d be done for, jeno lee’ you thought.

“oh good, you just got here?” chenle’s voice broke your little staring contest. your friend grinned at you, pointing to the huge backpack on his shoulders. “brought an extra camera so you can help me take some pictures for their insta, alright?”

“am i getting paid?” 

“shut up.” 

the staff came in a few minutes later and gave the two of you a pass that allowed you to stay between the stage and the barricade, for the pictures. suddenly everything felt real as they had less than 20 minutes to get in. the host announced them once more for the almost three hundred people there among friends, some admirers of the band and LOTS of students from the surrounding colleges who didn’t know them. tonight their word would spread around like fire. 

“so, you like the surprise?” chenle asked, looking at you through the camera. 

“i consider that betrayal, for your information” your answer made him throw his head back, laughing like a little kid. “what? a labret piercing isn’t a betrayal?” 

“well, i consider it a present. and seeing the way you were staring…” he nudged you playfully, but the music stopped and the host came back on stage. the highly anticipated concert was about to start, so you just stuck your tongue out to your friend. 

their entrance was big, everyone screamed to hype them up and they started with their own version of all the small things by blink 182. you swear you couldn’t even hear haechan over the audience. you took many pictures of them, sang together and admired their surprised smiles and stage personas in between performances. 

at some point jaemin and jeno came to the front to have a small battle to show their guitar and bass skills, making the room go crazy. right after that, the vocalists screamed jisung’s name and he started to show off. chenle exchanged a proud look with you, all of you feeling an immense happiness. 

so many girls were screaming their names, haechan mouthed the word ‘groupies’ at you, to which he received a middle finger in his direction. 

the setlist had almost come to an end, there was only one song left. feeling on top of the world, haechan played with the public. “ANL, you’re such a good crowd.” they screamed. “unfortunately, we’ve come down to our last song.” a very loud ‘aawwww’ was heard and the boys chuckled among themselves. as the sunkissed singer spoke, the others changed their instruments. jaemin got an acoustic guitar, followed by jeno with his acoustic bass and the staff placed a cajón for jisung in front of the drums. “we prepared a very special song for you, beautiful people. thank you so much for coming tonight!” they cheered once more.

the first chords to wonderwall by oasis were played by jaemin, the other instruments following the softer melody. haechan’s sweet voice compelled the watchers to sing along, pouring their hearts out.

you felt a tap on your shoulder as you registered this breathtaking moment of the band. turning your attention to the person who tapped you, you see chenle wiggling his eyebrows in jeno’s way. turns out his gaze was burning your skin together with the words dripping from his lips so faintly, only someone so close as you would understand he was following the lyrics.

And all the roads we have to walk are winding

And all the lights that lead us there are blinding

There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how

the bassist didn’t know what had gotten into him, maybe it was the performance thrill. he honestly didn’t try to find an explanation. during their songs, you were the one getting his attention all the time. you were having so much fun, singing out loud, exchanging jokes with your best friend, showing some people the band’s social media… it clicked. he realized he would never have to change to be around you. he felt so silly. and then, a sudden boldness rushed through him to let you know there’s something he must tell you.

[rayan12sworld]

🧡💙Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism!

By:KizuKatana

Summary:

A night-hunt goes wrong, and Wei Wuxian is scapegoated for the death of the Jiang Sect Leader and the destroyed core of the Jiang Sect Heir. As punishment, his core is taken and given to Jiang Cheng, and he is stripped of his cultivation credentials and expelled from the sect.

What everyone forgot was that Wei Wuxian was wearing the standard issue body camera that each cultivator wore on training missions and high-risk night-hunts. Struggling to make ends meet, Wei Wuxian finds his way to Caiyi Town with the doctor who performed the surgery, a partial core still secretly in place. His application to work at Cloud Recesses is summarily rejected by the hard-edged Second Jade of Lan after an unfortunate initial encounter.

But things change when someone hacks into the Jiang systems and releases the footage of what happened.

Chapter:20/20

Words:178,961

Status:completed

Core transfer? His blood began to run cold. And then he got to the part that involved Wei Wuxian. The ‘choice’ he had been given between execution and removal of his core, and how—at any time—if he revealed the nature of his core injury, he would be returned to the Jiang for execution. He was on his feet with his hand on Bichen’s hilt before he had even finished reading the clause. Lan Xichen grabbed his arm to prevent him from advancing on Madam Yu or drawing his sword. Wei Wuxian was also on his feet, a hand pressed against Lan Wangji’s chest to hold him back. Some part of Lan Wangji’s brain knew that actually running Madam Yu through in the middle of a Council meeting would not be considered acceptable conduct, but he really, really wanted to. “I invoke the Rite of Requital,” Lan Wangji said through gritted teeth, momentarily cutting through the surprised voices of the Council at his actions before the room erupted into chaos at his words. The commotion nearly drowned out the voice of his brother standing beside him, still holding onto his sword arm. “Wangji!” Lan Xichen’s shocked voice came from beside him, but Lan Wangji kept his gaze locked on Madam Yu, who was looking at him as though he’d lost his mind.

~~~

“Lan Zhan, what are you doing?” Wei Wuxian whispered frantically, his hands fisting into Lan Wangji’s robes even though Lan Wangji was no longer trying to move towards Madam Yu. He had issued his challenge. He would face her at the appropriate time if the Council refused to take action. “She took your core,” Lan Wangji said, the words almost impossible to get past his throat. “She gave you a choice between execution and removing your core.” “His core belongs to the Jiang,” Madam Yu said, though her voice sounded more shaken than arrogantly confident. She appeared to be aware of the likely outcome of a duel between the two of them. “We taught him to cultivate. It was ours to give and ours to take.” Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen looked horrified at the thought of a sect leader holding (and acting upon) such beliefs. Even Madam Jin looked at her sworn sister with shock at her words. “That is not true,” Wen Qing said, looking over to her uncle, who gave her a brief nod. “While it is true that Wei Wuxian grew and strengthened his core while training with the Jiang, my examination of his core showed that it had been developed much earlier in childhood, prior to the death of his parents. The seed of his core was not yours to take.” “Impossible!” Jin Guangshan said. “Wei Wuxian was only four or five when his parents died. No one forms their core that young.” Wen Qing eyed Jing Guangshan with thinly veiled disdain. “As the person who has studied core development for a living, and Wei Wuxian’s core in particular, I have to respectfully disagree. If the Jin are interested, I will forward the findings from my latest research for their edification when it is published.” Jin Guangshan looked like he was about to argue more, but Wen Ruohn cut him off. “In the matter of the Second Jade’s challenge, such things are irrelevant. But he cannot claim the Rite without grounds, no matter how morally offensive he finds the Jiang Sect’s actions. Lan Wangji, on what grounds are you claiming the Rite?” Wen Ruohan asked calmly. Of everyone in the room, he was the least perturbed by the turn of events. Possibly because he was old enough to remember similar challenges in the past. “Wei Wuxian is not a member of your family or the Lan Sect.” “Wei Ying is my cultivation partner,” Lan Wangji said firmly, tearing his gaze from Madam Yu to look first at Wen Ruohan, then at Wei Ying. Wei Ying was staring at him as though he had never seen him before, but he was not refuting Lan Wangji’s claim, and he did not look angry about it, so Lan Wangji did not back down. “I have grounds.”

It's an amazing fanfic, it's not like I can have all of my favourite moments in tumblr so I took this moment when Lan Wangji says that wei ying is his cultivation partner🫡