#was literally on my knees begging them to send all of the photo cards to me but we will see

[colorofchroma]

having a hyperfixation on CHROMA is so EMBARRASSING. like they are a small local group in DALLAS a city that is 15 hours away. i try to get my friends to listen to them and they do sometimes even and have added some of their songs to their personal playlist but i have NO ONE to actually talk about them with

[cvlutos]

“Boxes”

| 01.29.23 | 1.2 K | Rated PG |

Jamil Viper X GN!Reader

| Fluff | Sweet | Crushes | Etc. | Proceed with Caution, Dearest. |

T.Manor.Notes: This is tooo cute. I swear. @merotwst Good luck Studying!

“Well, I like to say that time flies when you're having fun~”

Najma flips her hair with a sassy grin, laying on her stomach as she holds up her uno cards. You look away from the clock with an eye roll, sitting across from her and very much so winning uno. Her brother merely clicks his tongue, merely passing by the open door. “You never say that.“ It’s a quick comment as he continues carrying the laundry basket, earning an offended and annoyed gasp from his sister, who glares while you laugh.

That’s how most of your afternoons went in middle school, with you and Najma having fun, playing board games, karaoke, anything and everything as best friends would. With, on certain opportunities, Jamil. Who joined the shenanigans, briefly, but he made his presence known.

He was family. Even if distant.

Nonetheless, he was important, important as one could be. You wouldn’t say you were friends, more like close acquaintances, closer than most. Seeing as you texted each other occasionally, giving short life updates, or planning gifts for Najma. You even called sometimes, quick calls that never lasted more than five minutes cause something always seemed to happen, but he always promised to call back.

And you found yourself, with your knees to your chest and phone to your ear, listening. Sometimes you wouldn’t talk and you could hear him mutter equations under his mouth as he did homework, or when you ask if he had forgotten if he was on the phone, he’d respond ‘no’, short but he never did hang up til you were asleep.

You didn’t have feelings for him. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. And all such thoughts were shoved into your own little Pandora’s box. Never to be open. No matter how tempting.

Even if his voice was deeper than you remember, that at times he sent shivers down your spine when he said your name. Or the photos he’d send to the group chat after Najma begged and bargained, photos in which you stared at for the longest time, committing them to memory.

You didn’t like him.

You stiffen a yawn, gripping your backpack loosely as you walk down the familiar path to the Viper house. One that you are very familiar with, to the point you even owned your own key. After Najma begged you to take one, cause you were both practically siblings. Walking up the steps and letting yourself in, kicking off your shoes by the entrance and dropping your bag off to the side, yelling your friend’s name.

She doesn’t answer. You let out a groan, wanting to simply eat a small snack and go before the crowd got too thick, especially after she was hyping up this local festival for weeks. You have expected her to jump on you the moment you stepped through the door. Seeing that, she swore up and down that you had to get there early for the best seats for fireworks.

“Najma already left. I'd assumed you were with her.”

You nearly choke, snapping your head up to the second floor, eyes nearly bulging out of your head at the sight of Jamil Viper, leaning over the banister, looking at you. Your throat goes dry, and you feel the box within shake. He looks different. Not bad different, but different. He has an almost softer look in his eyes and he looks relaxed. You open your mouth and close it, surprised, but before you could reply, your phone goes off. You check it and sure enough, it’s Najma.

Hey! Sorry, I had to leave early! But [Name] meet me there! Also, also Jamil, can you bring me my jacket, I left it! Thx <3

You had the ability to reach through your phone and strangle your friend, you would have. “I literally reminded her before she left.“ He lets out a sigh, pushing away from the wooden banister and shoving his hands into his pockets. He’s quick to grab his sister’s jacket and nudges his head towards the door.

“Let’s go.”

If you could curse the seven for what you’re experiencing, you would. The festival crowd is immense, with bodies pressed close to each other, while Jamil clasps your wrist. Your face burns and it’s hot—the box rattles—you don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him before. Maybe at dinner or during movies, but there’s always space. Either a pillow, or Najma making herself comfortable using both you and her brother for relaxation. His grip is tight so as to not lose you, but not painful. Leading you.

“Hey, let’s find somewhere less crowded.”

You nearly jump at the sound of his voice as he quickly slips into a small alley between two stalls. You both stop to catch your breath, before your eyes land on his hand that still holds you. As if noticing your gaze, he yanks his hand away with a cough, keeping his gaze from you. “She should be somewhere in this direction.”

You walk side by side in awkward silence. Each moment you can feel your shoulders grown tense and your lips pull together, before you let out a dejected sigh. Jamil glances. “This must be awkward for you—Sorry…. I’m sure you’re busy….”

A moment of silence passes, and you open your mouth to say something, before he beats you to it. “I don’t mind. Plans change all the time… And we’re friends, so you don’t have to be sorry.”

You choke at the word, friends. He views you as a friend. Maybe he could view you as—you shake your head. You give an embarrassed smile, “Friends? We’re friends?”

You had stopped walking, and he stands in front of you, turning to you fully.

The world is silent, and the wind is cool against your flesh. Prickling against the exposed skin of your cheeks and lips. The alley is dark, far from the others, far from the noise.

The first firework explodes with a loud bang, and your gaze follows. Bright colors and red and white illuminate the sky. It’s unreal. You feel the locked box within your rest rattle as you move your gaze back to Jamil. He has an odd smile, small, but there. He nudges his head. Beyond the winding alley is Najma and the rest of your friends. Completely and utterly unaware of you, watching the fireworks.

“We’ve always been friends, since forever. Nothing has changed.”

But it has.

A box in which you struggle to keep shut opens, and it fills you. Lights every nerve within your body, till you’re moving on your own. You can’t help but smile.

“Forever is kinda short. Someone I know always says, time flies when you're having fun.”

Jamil snorts, chuckling under his breath. “She never says that.”

Maybe you’ll bask in them. In these growing feelings, even if only for a moment. You bask in the warmth he provides when he’s near, in the attention he gives when you speak. You bask in it till the moment he goes. Until the moment he’s away, then these feelings will fade. They’ll leave and you won’t have to worry about being in love with your best friend’s brother.

Hey. I forgot to mention. I’ll be visiting home a lot more often. So, don’t be surprised when I return home suddenly.

… Or maybe they won’t.

ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Fourteen. There's No Way.

word count: 5k (not including pictures) warnings: swearing

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

a/n: yeeeeee very excited about this chapter!! we're getting so close to some good stuff!!!! hope you like it!!! (also, if you understand the reference to bug’s second tweet about mr clean, you’re a real one) 

______

Y/n laughed as she tucked her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on top as she stared at her computer monitor. "Yeah, okay, Gogy."

Quackity's laugh sounded through her headphones, cackling loudly and gasping for air as George defended himself in their voice channel. None of them were streaming, which allowed them to tease each other relentlessly without worrying about leaking real things. Currently, the target of the teasing was Y/n. Her guilty crime: Dream’s nickname for her. "She got his ass!"

"Oh shut up, Big Q," Y/n quickly spat back. "At least neither of us has a nickname that lies about our size. Short boy."

Quackity stopped laughing and pulled out his defensive card. "Okay, that's literally not funny. That's messed up of you to say, actually."

"Waaah," Y/n mocked.

"Okay, Bugsy, but no one seriously calls me Gogy, it's just as a joke," George defended himself. "I was only saying that I think it's cute how Dream calls you Bug!"

"Shut up," she mumbled with embarrassment. She loved the nickname and especially how everyone seemed to agree it was reserved for him. She wondered if he noticed that too, how everyone else, including most fans, called her Bugsy, leaving Dream as the only online friend who used the nickname.

"She's embarrassed," Quackity giggled. "Awww. Is the Buggy Wuggy embarrassed of having a crush?"

“I don’t have a crush,” she lied convincingly. 

“You better not. The title of your affection deservingly goes to me,” he said proudly, as if there was any shred of truth in his words.

“Get over yourself, Quackity,” George laughed, “before Dream tells you off again about being too short for Bugsy.”

“HEY!”

"I'm back," Sapnap announced as he unmuted in Discord. "What did I miss?"

"They're still bullying me," Y/n exaggerated.

“No, they’re bullying me!” Quackity scoffed.

“Sapnap, make them stop,” Y/n begged playfully. Usually Sapnap was on her side.

"It’s for a good reason though," Sapnap teased. "I mean, we'll stop bullying you if you admit to liking him," he lowered his voice slightly, probably since he lived in the same house as the man they were talking about.

Y/n smiled to herself and hid it behind her hoodie sleeve as if they could see her anyway. She kinda liked that she hadn't told Quackity or Sapnap about her official crush, enjoying having a secret like that. Well, a secret that George, Karl, and Naomi knew too.

"Then I guess I'll be bullied until the day that I die," she sighed. She swore she heard George cover a laugh with a cough and she sent his icon a death glare. He seemed to enjoy knowing her secret a little too much. 

"Is anyone going to actually stream today?" Sapnap asked. "I wanna do something."

"I'm thinking about doing Jackbox later," Quackity admitted. "Do you guys wanna join if I do?"

"Yes! Please," Sapnap whined. "I'm so bored."

"Sure, I'll play. Karl is spending the night so I can make him play too."

"Sleepover?" George asked. " Can I come?"

"Hm, no."

"That's messed up!"

"Can you join, George?" Quackity asked. "I need you in my title."

George hummed contemplatively and his voice turned mischievous, if only for a moment. "Yeah, if you get Dream to play."

Yeah, he definitely enjoyed knowing her secret too much.

"Right, you only play when your boyfriend plays too," Quackity groaned. "Cancel Dreamnotfound, I believe in Dreamsy supremacy."

"Says the man who asks me to marry him every day," Y/n scoffed.

"Actually, you're right! Bugity supremacy," he said.

"I swear it's become more frequent since I said you could flirt with me online again."

"It has, I'm making up for lost time."

Y/n rolled her eyes and Sapnap laughed. "I'll get Dream to play," Sapnap offered.

"So you'll play, George? I need you to commit," Quackity said.

"Yeah, why not," George agreed before adding with a giggle, "I wanna see Dream try to flirt with Bugsy."

"I hate you all,” specifically you, George, she thought. “I'm not playing anymore."

"NO, YOU ALREADY SAID YOU WOULD!" Quackity shouted.

"FINE," she groaned, a small laugh escaping her lips and completely exposing that she wasn't actually mad. "Speaking of Karl sleeping over, he's coming over in a bit so I'm gonna get off."

"Booo," Sapnap protested lightly. "Have fun with Karl."

"Let me know if he's going to play Jackbox with us. He better," Quackity threatened with no real substance.

"I'll make him," Y/n promised. "Bye guys!"

"Bye!" George and Sapnap shouted together before she disconnected the call.

Y/n stood up from her desk, stretching softly before looking around her room. She had a laundry basket in the corner, overflowing with clean, and now probably wrinkled, clothes waiting to be folded. She decided to use her time to clean up before Karl got there, even though they were probably going to sleep on the couches if at all.

She dumped the clean clothes onto her bed, tossing the things that needed to be hung to the side and neatly folded the rest. When she put her hoodies and sweaters on hangers, she noticed how much of her friends' merch she had. She had two GeorgeNotFound hoodies, a Sapnap shirt and hoodie, and even a Quackity hoodie. Karl didn't have any merch, but she did have a few of his personal hoodies that she had stolen from him over time and considered those her own exclusive merch, even though some of them had the Mr. Beast logo on them. She decided she needed Dream's merch.

For some unknown reason, perhaps it was because of how much she liked him, her face grew warm at the thought of wearing a Dream hoodie, even though it wouldn't have belonged to him. The idea made her nervous, like that would somehow give away that she had a crush on him if she bought some of his merch, even though she bought some of her friends' and even had Karl's actual hoodies. Despite the reasons that that was stupid of her to think, her brain said owning one Dream hoodie would be a dead giveaway of her crush, so she put off buying any. In reality, he'd probably laugh in his cute way when he heard that she bought one, or maybe go "whAT!" in surprise and happiness.

She desperately wanted to tell him things like that, tell him how happy his laugh made her and how adorable he was, or how she got butterflies every time he talked about anything at all. Since she couldn’t just call him up and tell him she hated stopped thinking about him, she decided to do something bold and subtweeted him, even adding a picture of herself with her face covered, hoping he would know it was about him, but that no one else would. She turned off comments for good measure, in case the stans made assumptions. Now that she threw away the "no flirting" rule for all her friends, she could do things like this. Worst case scenario is he thinks it’s weird, she tells him it was only a joke, and they go on their merry ways. Her heart would be broken, but nevertheless her ego would be somewhat saved. Harmless. 

Nervously ― plagued with the thoughts of possible consequences of posting something so bold and, to her, so obvious — she made her way to the kitchen and got a glass of water. He would know it was about him, right? And that's what she wanted? It was so forward of her to say to the world, especially since she hadn't tagged him in it. Leaving it up to interpretation almost made it like she was trying to hide it from him, which wasn't the case or she wouldn't have hit, Tweet.

She waited for him to tweet something vague about her as a response, or maybe even text her, before realizing it had the potential to make him uncomfortable. Maybe he would pretend to not see it so he didn't embarrass her, or didn't even know it was about him. Or maybe he's asleep and hasn't been on his phone. She looked at her clock. Dream asleep at 3:30pm? Unlikely.

As Y/n fell on her bed, contemplating whether she should delete the post and pretend like it never happened, she felt her phone vibrate and quickly swiped the screen to read it.

Y/n had to literally set her phone down to scream into her pillow. He was killing her. Stabbing her in the heart and twisting the knife with his sweet compliments and smooth delivery. He had to know what he was doing, the way he was talking to her like that. No one said "prove it" in that context without having something more behind it.

Why couldn't he just like her? Why did he have to be so nice and flirty towards all his friends? Why couldn’t she be the exception?

She picked her phone back up and left the messaging app, finding her camera roll and swiping through it in search for something to catch her eye. Food pic, meme, Karl’s cat, meme, picture of Naomi nearly falling off a sidewalk... where were her pictures of her face? Did she really not have any of herself? The seemingly endless scrolling stopped when she found one from when she first moved into the apartment. Naomi had taken pictures of every room to show her parents and asked Y/n if she could show her parents the streamers room as well. Y/n cheerfully agreed, and actually wanted to be in the photo because she loved Naomi’s parents like they were her own, so she jumped on her bed and smiled for the picture.

It was cute, the comforter she sat on was messy and looked comfy, and she liked the way she was posed, cross-legged and beaming at the camera with her dying plant on the windowsill in the background and fairy lights around the room. It was also back when her room was clean and presentable. Y/n thought it was a good photo and even would have posted it if not for the whole her being a faceless streamer thing.

She held her breath, contemplating if she should just send the image to Dream. She wanted to, she really did. But that fear of how he perceived her still nagged in the back of her mind.

Y/n must have been mulling it over for a while because as she decided to not send it, Dream followed up on his last text, clearly worried that he was pressuring her. She wanted to change the subject as soon as possible before she changed her mind and face revealed to him.

Y/n took a deep breath at the thought of how close she was to sending that picture to Dream. It wasn't the first time she genuinely considered it, nor would it be the last, but that was the first time she actually looked through her camera roll for options. She so desperately wanted to. Wanted to show him what she looked like. Wanted to hear what he thought of her. Wanted to hear him say, "I like you, Bug" after finally seeing what she looked like. Wanted to let him know how much she trusted him by showing him her biggest fear. It would be so easy to just rip off the Band-Aid; only a few clicks and he could see her face. See her.

But then there was the possibility of none of her fantasies happening. What if she sent him a picture saying, "here is me!" and all he says is, "nice", not finding her pretty or ugly? What if he thought it was just like... seeing a picture of a friend. He and I are just friends, Y/n scolded herself. But him seeing her opened up the opportunity for him to like her.

It was scarier the longer she put it off, almost like the more she postponed it, the more she had to prove. If Dream knew what she looked like from the beginning, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. But since she had waited so long to show him, she felt like she had to make it worth the wait.

Was she worth the wait?

Y/n's bedroom door swung open, ripping her out of her thoughts and letting her know that Karl had arrived. He smiled at her and she laughed in response.

"Hello, Karl. Ever heard of knocking?"

"Nope!" he responded as he set down a cupholder with three drinks on her nightstand. "How are you?"

"Good." Daydreaming out about Dream... again. "How are you?"

"I'm so excited!" He dropped his backpack on the floor and turned to her, pulling her off her bed and giving her a hug. "I've missed you!"

"You saw me, like, a couple of days ago," she laughed as she hugged him back.

"A couple of days too long," he sighed dramatically, rocking back and forth into the hug before Y/n lightly pulled away from him. "Where's Naomi?"

"Uh... in her room I'm guessing?"

"I'm going to go give this to her," he explained grabbing one of the drinks and walking out. "Don't miss me too much!"

Y/n laughed and shook her head, laying back down on her bed with her phone in hand. She reread some of the texts between her and Dream and couldn't help the large smile that plastered itself on her face.

When Karl came back in, he jumped on the bed, wrapping his arms around her stomach and snuggling into her side. "Hello."

She laughed but pushed him away slightly, trying to ignore the pout on his face at her actions. "Hi."

"Oh, happy December!"

"Already? Geesh."

"Yeah, only 27 days until the lake!!!!"

Nervous and excited butterflies festered in the pit of Y/n's stomach. "What drink did you get me?"

"Your faaavorite," he sang as he grabbed the drink letting her sit up and lean against the headboard before handing it to her.

"Thank you very much," she said as she took a sip. "Oh, hey, so Quackity wants to do a Jackbox stream tonight and I said you'd join."

Karl groaned and laid back on Y/n, careful not to knock her drink out of her hand. "Noooo...."

"You don't wanna play?" she asked genuinely, patting his hair lightly as his head rested on her legs.

"I just want to hang out with you. It's been so long since we had Karl and Y/n time."

She sighed. "I know, but it will be fun. We'll play for like an hour and a half and then we can hang out for the rest of the night and all day tomorrow until you have to go to Jimmy’s house," she bargained like she was talking a four-year-old into eating some vegetables.

"Hmph. Fine," Karl pouted. "Is Dream playing?"

She shrugged. "I think so?"

"That's why you want to play so bad."

"What? No! I agreed to play before Sapnap said he would ask him."

"Mmmhm. So that Tweet earlier wasn't about him?"

"The... Tweet?" she played dumb but her face warmed up.

"Or was it about me?" he joked. "Have you just been blown away ever since we met and you're still thinking about how cute I am?"

"Shut up," she lightly pushed Karl's head off her lap as her face grew hotter. "Am I wrong though?"

"I don't know!" he said as he sat up and looked at her. "I've never seen the man!!"

"Oh, really?" she asked. "I didn't want to post it because I didn't want people to think I was bragging about knowing what he looks like..." she sighed.

"Then why did you?"

"Because... I also really wanted him to see it," she said with a shy giggle.

Karl face lit up as he cackled at her. "Look at you, trying to flirt!! Let's gooo!!!"

Y/n buried her face in her sweatshirt collar and laughed.

"Oh my gosh? Y/n subtweeting and flirting at the same time?? What on Earth?"

"It only counts if it works."

"Did it?” Karl asked as he leaned back and played with his rings. “You turned off comments and I didn't see him subtweet you back."

"That's because he... texted me... instead."

"WHAT? What did he say?"

Y/n laughed. "He said I wasn't allowed to tweet something like that and then turn off comments so he can't tell everyone it was about him."

Karl cackled again. "HAHAH! So true though!"

"Whatever. I'm not telling you anything else about our conversation."

"Why, was it spicy?"

"No. But— this is weird to talk about!"

Karl frowned. "You don't have to tell me... I just think it's so cute. But if you ever do want to talk about how much you wuv Dweam, I'm all ears. Tell me everything."

Y/n rolled her eyes fondly. "Okay Kawl."

"What time is Quackity streaming?" Karl changed the subject, understanding that Y/n actually didn't want to talk about Dream.

"I don't know. Ask him. Also, tell him you're joining so he knows." She took another long sip from her drink as Karl pulled out his phone and texted Quackity.

Her fingers itched to make another Tweet about Dream and she finally succumbed, but decided to outright tease him instead of flirt, not hiding the identity of her target this time. Really, it was just an excuse for her to try to get his attention like she couldn't just text him and have it right away.

_____

"Sapnap!" Bugsy cheered as he joined the Discord, Quackity off talking to his chat while the others slowly joined. So far, the only people there were Sapnap, Bugsy, and Karl.

"Bugsy!" he called back with a giggle. "Hi! Is Karl coming?"

"I'm here, Sapnap!" Karl announced. "Bugsy and I are just using the same mic."

"Am I not good enough for you?" she teased Sapnap and he laughed.

"Well you're going to ignore me to talk to Dream once he gets here, so I need a backup so I'm not lonely."

Y/n rolled her eyes with a smile and Karl laughed.

"We can talk while they flirt," Karl promised.

"Both of you shut up," she scolded softly.

Pretty soon, the others joined. In the end, Quackity had convinced Bad, Punz, and Wilbur to play, as well as all the feral boys.

"You could only get nine people to play, Quackity?" George asked once Quackity unmuted. "Wow, you must not have friends."

"Hey! I have friends, George! I do."

"Then where's the tenth person, Big Q?" Wilbur countered.

"LOOK! It was last minute! Where's Drea– that man is always late, I swear to—"

"I'm here!" Dream said quickly, joining the voice channel. "I'm here! Hello, everyone. Hi, Bug."

Karl smacked his hand over his mouth to cover his laugh, which escaped anyway, as he nudged Y/n. She had immediately buried her face in her hands and Karl had to turn away from the mic so no one could hear him laugh at Dream's direct greeting.

She pinched Karl's side before greeting Dream. "Hi, Dream."

"Are you guys ready to play?" Quackity asked.

"Wait, no, we're going to have to have Gene! Can't you get anyone else?" Punz asked.

"Everyone I've asked has said no!" Quackity groaned. "I'm out of people. Deal with Gene."

Y/n and Karl looked at each other at the same time, thinking the same thing. Naomi had been talking about wanting to play Jackbox sometime but that she never has anyone to play with other than Karl and Y/n. She'd be meeting most of these people on vacation in a couple of weeks anyway, why not see if she wants to play?

"What about my roommate?" Y/n spoke up as Quackity sent the code to the Discord.

"Who?" he asked.

"You literally met her when you visited," Karl laughed. "Naomi."

"Oh, yeah! She's cool."

"Invite her to play," George said, making Dream laugh lightly and Y/n smile because they knew they had been talking a lot.

"Yeah, give me a second, don't start yet," Y/n said before sliding off her headphones and making her way to Naomi's room. Before Y/n could even knock, Naomi swung open her door quickly, phone open to the Twitch app in her hand.

"I heard everything," she rushed out, eyes wide and hopeful. "C-can I play?"

"Yeah, you want to?"

"PLEASE."

"There are currently 130,000 people watching, just so you know."

"That's fine, I'm cool under pressure." That was very true. Y/n wouldn’t have let Naomi join if she thought her friend couldn’t handle the attention. She thrived in it. "Should I come to your room?"

"Yeah, come on." Y/n led the way and pulled up a third chair to her desk. Karl offered to listen to the Discord on his phone so Naomi could use the second pair of headphones to listen to everyone. All three of them still used Y/n's mic, Karl muted on his phone. "Okay, kinda scuffed set up, but we're all here. Everyone, this is Naomi."

"Hello!" Naomi said happily. "Nice to meet you all!"

Everyone greeted her and Y/n noted the redness on Naomi's cheeks as George greeted her with a soft, "Nice to talk to you again, Naomi."

Karl giggled again and slapped his hand over his mouth; Y/n had a feeling he'd have to do that a lot this stream.

"Can we all agree to not pander?" Bad asked, earning a few approvals.

"What if we play one game where we only pander?" Dream asked. "Like pander as much as possible for every answer."

"Wait, yeah, let's do that so everyone can get it out of their system," Wilbur agreed.

"But Naomi doesn't know us well enough to pander yet," Sapnap countered.

"Yes I do," she said with a laugh. "I've watched enough streams and lore videos to know exactly how to get votes."

"Damn, okay then," Sapnap mumbled.

"Yeah, she'll be fine," George promise and Naomi blushed again, making Y/n laugh. Naomi joined the lobby on her phone and the round began.

Pandering being the goal was both annoying and hilarious because people used the same jokes, but it was funny to see how hard people were trying to get the audience votes.

"Something you would take with you on a deserted island," Quackity read out loud as the prompt showed up. "An iPad full of downloaded skephalo fanfiction, HAHAH, or dreamnotfound fanart." Everyone laughed and Y/n could hear George scoff at one answer in particular.

"Aw, I love Skeppy!" Bad said innocently.

"Was that your answer then, Badboyhalo?" Wilbur teased as everyone voted on their favorite. Y/n, of course, cast her vote towards skephalo, but still pretended like the other answer didn't make her jealous. The player votes were split, but the audience made Sapnap's answer win in a landslide.

"Okay, the most disappointing thing to hear from a friend," Wilbur read the next one out loud. "Dreamsy is real, and you don't have a shot with BugsyGames."

"What the hell?" Y/n laughed loudly at the similarity between the two responses. Dream was laughing so hard, wheezing like he would never stop, and the sound brought a large grin to Y/n's face.

Everyone's laughs overlapped and mingled with each other and it was such a happy sound, distracting everyone's attention from Y/n a little.

"That would be the worst thing to hear!" Quackity yelled. "Good thing Bugity is real."

Dream stopped laughing abruptly and instead yelled, "WHAT?" which only made everyone laugh harder.

"Vote!!" Bad reminded.

"Wait, Quackity, what did you just say?" Dream asked.

"Well, I've seen her face, so... I think she loves me more," he said, just trying to get a rise out of the other, which seemed to be working.

Y/n thought again about how close she was to sending a picture of herself to Dream earlier. He probably would have immediately used it against Quackity, but she didn't think she would have minded because it was funny to see Dream jealous, real or not.

"Only because you flew out to hang out with Karl!" Dream yelled. "I'd fly just to see her."

"Then do it," Y/n challenged before she could think and her heart stopped at her own words.

Dream went silent and it was Naomi's turn to cover her laugh with her hand, Karl's eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Why are you so defensive, huh, Dream?" Punz asked.

"Uh, you-you have to be when fighting for Bug's love and attention," he joked finally, and Y/n's heart resumed beating, a little fast at the implication of his words. Why did she say that? He probably thought she was so weird. "It's every person for themselves." Then again, so was he.

The votes were pretty split since they said the same thing, but the surprising thing was who said what. She expected one of them to be from Quackity, but she didn't know who wrote the second one about not having a shot. Sapnap maybe? Karl? They all joke around so who put it?

"DREAM?" Sapnap laughed. "You wrote that?"

"Well, yeah, I mean..." he trailed off with a laugh and Y/n's face caught fire. Did he really think he didn't have a shot? Because reality check: he’s the only one with arrows and the target is wide open. Was he joking or stupid or was she just not as obvious as she previously thought?

"Okay, okay, next one," Quackity laughed. "If cats were political leaders, everyone’s favorite president would be: Patches, okay," he paused as Dream cheered loudly, "and Bingus."

"Corpse isn't even here! Wrong audience!" Karl said.

"Bingus is for all audiences," Y/n mumbled, making Naomi laugh.

"Uh-oh, another faceless man stealing Bugsy's heart—?" Sapnap joked, immediately cut off by Dream's stern, "no."

"Naomi, you put Patches?" Wilbur laughed as the votes went towards the girl on Y/n's left. "Okay, she does know more than we thought."

"Oh, I know everything," she said evilly, double-meaning evident in her voice. Y/n gave her a look and Naomi just smiled innocently.

The pandering got so intense that Y/n almost cried tears of joy when the first Quiplash game was over and the no-pandering rule got put back into play.

"What, you don't like your name being every other answer?" Wilbur joked and Y/n shook her head.

"No. But certain ones were okay..."

"Yeah, the Bugity ones," Quackity joked.

Dream hummed out a soft, "Okay, Quackity," and the next game began.

The games went on as usual and Y/n had a blast. It was so fun to see her best friend interact with all her online friends for the first time and it warmed her heart how inclusive they were, making sure Naomi wasn't left out of jokes. It helped that Naomi's sense of humor was similar and that she already knew a lot about the streamers, but Y/n was still grateful for all the efforts put forth by her friends.

It also helped that George and Naomi clearly liked each other.

"Is anyone going to stream?" Quackity asked as he started wrapping up.

"I will if no one else is," Punz said. "I'm going to play Valorant."

"Oh, can I play?" Sapnap asked.

"Yeah, definitely, dude."

"Okay, I'll raid you." Quackity muted after thanking everyone for playing and Y/n left the call.

"Dude, that was SO FUN!" Naomi stood up and yelled. She sat down on the end of Y/n's bed, hands balled up in excitement.

Karl laughed as he fell on top of the bed next to where Naomi sat. "I'm so glad you guys all got along!"

"Yeah, I almost started crying when everyone was laughing at your jokes," Y/n laughed, swiveling in her chair to look at them. "That made me so happy."

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much for letting me play. I had so much fun. And they're all so nice and funny and I was worried they'd make me feel left out but they didn't at all."

"I'm so glad you had fun," Y/n said. "We'll invite you again if you want."

"Please do. Only if everyone's okay with it though!"

"I'm sure they would be."

“The lake is going to be so fun,” she sighed whimsically. 

“Because George?” Karl teased, causing Naomi to punch his arm. 

A Discord notification sounded on Y/n's computer and she turned to look at the screen, smiling when she saw Dream's name.

Dream: You left the vc so quick :( Bugsy: I have two goons to hang out with :( Dream: :(((( Dream: I wanna be the only goon you hang out with Dream: I was right, I don't have a chance with you Dream: Karl is the only focus of Bugs attention Bugsy: ?? Bugsy: lies detected Dream: wait really Bugsy: ... Bugsy: do I need to remind you of the tweet I posted earlier Dream: bug don't say things like that to me Bugsy: why not Dream: can you kick Karl back to his house so we can ft or call :( Bugsy: no <3 Bugsy: we can tomorrow after Karl leaves Dream: promise? Dream: don't get my hopes up bug Bugsy: yeah I promise :) Dream: :D

"Pay attention to me!" Karl whined. Y/n turned back around and saw that Naomi had left the room and Karl was laying upside down, close to falling off the bed with his head dangling dangerously close to the ground.

She laughed and typed one last message to Dream.

Bugsy: bye bye dream :) Dream: goodnight bug :] sleep well

"Okay," she huffed jokingly, turning back to Karl. "You have my full, undivided attention."

_____

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[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.1)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 2,322 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior

Introduction || Part Two ||  Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

There were three voicemails when you turned your phone back on in the airport terminal.

Voicemail, 12:22am

“Y/N, I swear to GOD if you don’t answer your fucking phone the second you land, I’m going to make sure you don’t walk right for a fucking week when I get you back in my hands!”

Voicemail, 12:57am

“I am tempted to leave you stranded without any fucking money! How the fuck would you like that? Having to call me to come bail you the fuck out? I’ll make you get on your goddamn knees and beg. Call. Me.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you snickered.

Tony would never though; you found it impossible. He could not stand the thought of you not having money to shield yourself from the world if he was not there. You needed to be inside, pampered.

You snorted before listening to the next message.

Voicemail, 1:27am

“When I find out where you’ve gone, you bet your ass I’m going to be right on the plane there and you’re not going to like it when I find you! Do you understand me! So, make this easier on yourself and call me back!”

You took the opportunity to text him back.

Y/N, 3:29am

Don’t waste your time or jet fuel. Just leave me alone for a bit. God.

You dialed your friend Xavier, it going to voicemail the first time. Annoyed, you called him again, taking note it was after 3:30am. On the fourth attempt, he answered.

“What the hell do you want, Y/N? If you’re drunk and woke me up—”

Brightly, you told him, “Come get me.”

There was a moment’s pause, before he asked perplexed, “What?”

“I’m at SeaTac.”

“The hell do you mean you’re at SeaTac?”

“I flew here,” you told him nonchalantly as you could. “On a whim. And I don’t want to take an Uber alone. I’ll give you gas money! Promise.”

“Where… what?” He was groggy still.

“I’ll stay at your place for a couple nights?”

He was quiet again for a few moments before asking, “You don’t wanna get a hotel room…?”

“Of course you want to do that.”

“Bitch, I live in a studio. Why would I not want to take advantage of some more space?”

“Point taken. But ugh, hurry!” You whined, leaning against the wall. “I’m in really tall heels and I don’t have a coat. I’m cold.”

“Are you outside?”

“No, in the aiport. The dress is just really short.”

Xavier snorted at this. “Of course it is. Where’s Tony?”

“At home. We got into a fight,” you told him shortly.

“So, you flew here…?”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna go home and see his stupid face. So, I came here. Straight from the party really. Hold on, let me check hotels in the area.” You pulled your phone down to google and scroll through options. “Ugh, I don’t wanna be downtown though. But that’s where all the nice hotels are at… Oh, this place has a renaissance Brad Pitt photo on a pillow.”

“Please. Get that. Just on principal.”

“Okay but this other place has a better bathroom set up.”

“Is that really important?”

“Yes, I want a relaxing bath. And it has a great view of the sound. There’s two-bedroom suites that don’t require extended stays. But, love, I don’t want to sleep alone… and I trust you for that.”

Xavier chortled, “Scout’s honor. Your pussy does not interest me in the slightest. What’s the name then?”

“Thompson. Get here!”

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Xavier told you and you heard shuffling in the background of the call.

You added before he could hang up, “And bring your phone charger. And some sweats and a shirt. I meant it when I said I left directly from the party. All I’ve got is my purse.”

“You are ridiculous,” Xavier laughed. “It’s going to take me at least a half hour. Don’t let your phone die!”

Tony was calling again, and you sighed annoyed, sending him to voicemail. By now he would know your phone as at least back on and know you sent him to voicemail yet again.

Y/N, 3:41am

My phone is getting low and I need it to contact a hotel so I’m not going to answer.

Your anger was beginning to subside, but you were not ready to give in just yet.

Dialing the hotel, you waited for the front desk to answer. “Yes, I would like to set up a two-bedroom suite if there are any available? There are? Perfect. Oh, right now, please. I’ve just landed at the airport. Yes, yes of course. My card number is….”

Tony would not even have to call the credit card company at this rate with this new charge showing up.

<><><>

Two years ago…

“Are you sure that’s what you want me to do, Y/N? I could really mark you up that way,” Tony purred.

You peered over your shoulder, giving him a pleading look. You had just asked him to hit you again, wanting him to get your ass good and red before he fucked you unbridled. The clincher was that he had a nine tails he was spanking you with. He had dipped into spanking the first time he had taken you and you would be lying if you said you did not like it. You had been interested in the powerful man and had seen him take girls from the service before. When he had shown up last time, you had made sure to be in his sights and he had taken the bite. Figuratively and literally. He had left some nice little marks along your shoulder and atop your breasts that had eventually faded. You wanted more and it seemed he did too.

“Yes, please,” you said coyly.

“If you keep sounding that cute, I am not going to be able to help myself.”

You stuck out your bottom lip and he gave a throat chuckle before swinging his arm back and landing another blow across your cheeks. You made a strangled noise, jolting forward with the hit. Tony’s fingers came to your ass, dipping between your thighs.

“You like me marking you up?” he asked, his fingers playing. You nodded again. “Bite marks and all?” Another nod and he had had enough foreplay.

Tony groaned salaciously, his fingers leaving your sex and coming to tear your dress down off your breasts. The bra was gone next, your breasts bouncing free. Your dress was stuck around your middle, leaving your bottom and top half exposed.

You whimpered, feeling empty.

“Aww, princess,” Tony mockingly cooed. “Do you want me to fix it?”

You breathed, “Yes, sir.”

His cock pressed against your entrance. “I have such a desire for you… to inhale every part of you.”

“I want you to, sir.”

Tony chuckled against your neck before nipping, causing you to whimper at the pinch. “I know, princess. And that’s what I crave. I’m just simply obsessed with you, kitten.”

<><><>

You woke up to tapping on your face.

Xavier chortled when you startled awake. “Hello, darling,” he crooned.

You slapped his hand away, “Jesus, you creep. Couldn’t you have just gotten out of bed quietly and ordered breakfast?”

“Oh, I did that,” Xavier told you and you scowled, grabbing the blanket to try to yank it over your head. “But I also ordered you some blueberry pancakes!”

At the mention of them, you stilled. Muttering angrily, you threw the blanket back and grabbed your phone, checking the time. It was only 9:30am. You had only been asleep for a few hours at best. When Xavier had picked you up, you had turned your phone back on airplane mode to prevent seeing whatever texts Tony was going to be sending and any calls. You switched it off and surprisingly saw there was only one text from him. He had tried to call a couple of times but he had not left any more voicemails. He was probably testing to see if your phone was back on or not.

Tony, 4:42am

I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish from this other than pissing me off.

You sighed as you got out of bed, padding to the bathroom, taking your phone with you.

Xavier called from the bed, “They said less than a half hour!”

“Noted,” you returned coming to the tub and turning it on. You placed your phone on the counter and began getting undressed.

Kicking your feet up, you relaxed back into the tub. It was so warm, and you settled back in further, a smile coming across your face. There was nothing a hot bath could not soothe. You had been bruised up on your ass too many times to not know that.

Your phone rang and you groaned, knowing who it was. You sunk beneath the water, holding your breath. You could not even have one damn bath…

Footsteps echoed into the bathroom and you opened your eyes seeing Xavier peering at your phone on the counter.

You were out of the water in a second, telling him before your ears had even cleared, “Xavier, don’t—”

He had already pressed answer and held the phone up to his ear much to your horror. You could only hear his side of the conversation.

“Hello? Who’s this? Oh, you must be Tony. A friend.”

“Xavier!” you hissed. “Hang the fuck up!”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think you can talk to her. She’s busy.” Xavier paused and then shrugged as if Tony could see him. “I don’t know. She handed me the phone and she left when she saw it was you calling.”

You mouthed, “Too much!”

Xavier ignored you. “I told you she left. She doesn’t want to talk to you. Are you deaf? I already told you that.”

You were leaning halfway out of the tub damn near at this point, your hands gripping the side of the tub. “Too. Much!” you hissed at him.

“Again, I told you. She left. Don’t know where. She was wearing something pretty skimpy though.”

You were crawling out of the bath by this point and Xavier took a few steps back, a playful smile on his face. He had no idea what he was doing. And it was your damn fault by not explaining anything about who Tony was to him before this. All he knew of Tony was that he was a billionaire and your husband. He did not know his mafia ties or the nature of your relationship with him.

“Hmm, apparently I’ve overstayed my welcome. Anyways, if you want to have this convo again, let me know!” Xavier said into the phone, speaking louder with every word practically. As if Tony was trying to yell over him and Xavier was ignoring him. “Bye now!”

A pet peeve of Tony’s was being spoken over. Another was having someone else play with his toy, which was no doubt the thought going through his mind right now because he had no idea who Xavier was. Great.

“Xavier!” you exploded, standing in front of him naked, water dripping onto the floor.

“Yes? And can you put a towel on?” he asked as he placed your phone down on the counter.

You exclaimed, “That was too much! Why didn’t you listen to me and hang up the phone?” You really were worried.

He was unperturbed by your outburst though, shrugging as you snatched a towel and wrapped it around yourself. “As you told me multiple times! And cause it was funny.”

“Do you know what he would do to you if he knew who you were? No one talks to him like that!” You added for good measure. “Especially when it comes to me.”

“Well, he hasn’t let you see me in over a year!” Xavier pouted. You exhaled sharply. It was true… you only traveled when Tony permitted it. You had not been back home in such a long time. “He deprived me of you. He deserved being left behind. Didn’t you say so?”

“That I did. But next time, let me answer,” you poked him roughly on the nose. To give some insight into your relationship, you told him, “Daddy likes hearing my voice, especially when he’s in the state he’s in. Do you understand me?”

“’Daddy’?” Xavier asked, looking put off.

“Yes, he’s quite good at keeping me in line.” Xavier cocked an eyebrow and then burst out laughing. You shrugged, “Most of the time. I’m usually well behaved for him. He just made me mad.”

“I’m getting some very… dom/sub vibes here.”

“Correct.”

“Hmm, that does shed some light on why you’re so mad about that call then.”

“Yeah, you fuck!” you told him, slapping his arm.

“Well, you’ll just get some spankings.”

“I hope that’s the only thing that happens, you dick,” you snapped, seriously.

“Maybe some orgasm denial for his little… babygirl? Princess?” Xavier grinned broadly when he saw your eyes widen at the name. You slapped his arm again, harder this time, and he laughed, pulling away from you. “Is that what he calls you?”

You huffed as you got back into the tub and admitted, “Maybe.” You leveled him with a glare and said, “I’m serious though. Don’t answer the phone again. He’s already mad at me.”

<><><>

Tony had cracked his phone protector with how hard he had slammed it down on the counter after that little prick – whoever he was – had hung up on him. A million, jealous thoughts were running through his mind. Y/N was off with some other man up in Seattle – he had seen the hotel pending charge this morning when he had woken up from his short sleeping stint. She was pregnant with his goddamn kid for fucks sake, and she had the audacity to sleep with someone else.

That was something he could not abide. This was too far.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

[dynyamight]

omgomg 11 for bkdk!!!!!

send me a writting ask

11. Both of you wore the same ugly Christmas sweater to a party

“I absolutely love it!” Ashido squeals in delight.

“I fucking hate it.” Bakugou growls, jaw clenched.

While Sero and Kaminari are hollering and wheezing on the floor, Kirishima gives a soft, supportive smile. “Look at you.” He says easily, “Now, you’re an actual star, Bakugou”

When he said he’s the fucking the star of their group, Bakugou did not mean it literally.

With arms spread awkwardly, Bakugou stood in the living room in the most gaudy green, Christmas sweater, fuzzy all over. There were faux garlands going across around his torso and arms, with red and yellow bells jingling from them. The muscles in his chest and arms that he once was so proud of, terribly helped to widen the entire tree look.

And, right on top of his head, Bakugou has his wildly blonde hair, tousled, spiked, and gelled by Ashido’s hands. It created to give an illusion that his own damn head, was the fucking star.

“I’m not going.” Bakugou relents firmly.

“No, no!” Ashido whines, hugging him around his back. “Please! You will totally win the ugly sweater contest at the party. And, you know we need that prize money!”

“You mean, you need that prize money, to help pay rent.” Kirishima deadpans.

Ashido pouts in his direction. “Me. We. Same thing.”

Sero heaves a tired laugh, wiping tears off his cheeks. “God, the way he’s just T-posing, without realizing.”

Bakugou raises a brow. “The hell does that mean?”

Kaminari cackles, still rolling on the carpet. “Nevermind that!” He barely voices between laughs, “His hair! His fucking hair!”

“Don’t mind those two.” Kirishima reassures Bakugou. He places a comforting hand onto his tense shoulders. “We’re all looking ridiculous.”

Which, true. Bakugou scans over his group of extras, finally taking in their dumbass outfits.

Kirishima was a red brick chimney, with Santa’s ass sticking out in front. Ashido had an oversized sweater, stating in bold letters, “FEEL THE JOY”, and silhouettes of hands on each boob. Sero wore Santa with obviously red eyes, hitting a blunt, and the words “GET LIT” in this nice cursive. And, Kaminari had red solo cups stuck to his sweater, a walking beer pong table, for fuck’s sake.

“We’re the absolute worst.” Bakugou snorts.

“I swear, if no one goes all out like us, I will feel personally attacked.” Ashido sighs, letting go of Bakugou. Instead, she looks over her phone. “I texted Jirou to remind her and her girlfriend to go big, or go home.”

Sero sputters in another fit of laughs. “M-Momo in an ugly Christmas sweater! N-No way!”

Kaminari snickers right alongside him. “Momo doesn’t even wear anything ugly to begin with!”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, tonight!” Kirishima laughs, shaking his head. “If Bakugou’s going out as a damn stumpy Christmas tree, so can she.”

“I’m fucking stumpy?” Bakugou asks. That’s not-

“Okay, chop, chop!” Ashido claps to the group in the apartment, speed walking in her knee high boots to the door. “To the party, we go, everyone!”

On the cramped car ride, Bakugou tunes out the atrocious caroling of his friends, blasting Kaminari’s Christmas classics playlist. There’s a long night awaiting him, and he’s borderline doubting he can survive.

He usually doesn’t go to these late night, drunken parties. That’s more of, well, everyone else’s thing.

Bakugou would prefer to spend Christmas Eve by his quiet self, avoiding anything Christmas related, in fact. Just a day off work, cooking a nice, warm meal and watching his favorite horror movies under a heated kotatsu.

Alas, his friends begged him to attend this ridiculous Christmas party, instead, hosted by the damn, annoying Aoyama, of all people. Though, he is surprised the guy had the gall to extend an invite his way.

And, yeah, maybe he hasn't gone out in awhile, and actually was willing to show up.

So, here he is. Bakugou Katsuki, readying himself in a small ass car to get egg-nogged-wasted for the Christmas cheer, or whatever they say.

Besides, Kirishima offered to give a ride back home, if two hours into the party he still wasn’t feeling it. That’s his best friend, for fucking sure.

After passing the gates, the car rolled through the private community and pulled up to Aoyama’s residency, shortly after. There wasn’t any parking in front of the house, heavily decorated with lights, inflatables, and a fucking snow machine.

“We need a group photo with that!” Kaminari exclaims in the backseat, face smushing the window. From the passenger seat, Ashido agrees excitedly.

So, Kirishima had to move up a few houses down, in order to find an available spot for his car. The walk was a bit bothersome, the nipping cold, winter air bites at everyone’s faces and noses. But then, Sero yells for a race down to the front doors, undoubtedly to help the group warm up.

Bakugou won’t lie, he totally ran out of breath to those damn doors.

They all waited patiently for Ashido, last and stumbling in her heels hurriedly. It takes Kirishima walking back, and ushering her with his arm, so she can rush over safely.

“Gross, they’re actually cute together.” Kaminari sticks his tongue. Sero and Bakugou roll their eyes.

When Aoyama greets them, he blasts the whole group with a confetti popper. “Merry Christmas! Happy Hannakuh! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy Holidays!” He sings aloud. He shakes his whole body, ringing the bunches of bells that are all over him.

Bakugou feels a headache forming.

“It’s Christmas Eve.” Sero corrects, right beside him.

“Ah, well, tonight, it’s all the holidays combined!” Aoyama laughs, “Now, get inside! The heater’s blasted on, of course.”

And, hell, at least the damn heater’s nice.

Bakugou eyes all over the entrance way, pictures of Aoyama and his family plastered over the walls, with large garlands hanging between them.

The loud commotion of the party echoes from the living room, to his left.

“Here, we brought some drinks!” Ashido gingerly proclaims, with both her and Kaminari handing over the bottles of whiskey to Aoyama. “The essentials, duh!”

“Please! You even got my favorite brand!” Aoyama gasps.

Kirishima coughs over Bakugou's ears. “Yeah, that shit was expensive.” He whispers.

“It ain’t even that good.” Bakugou hisses back.

They both smirk at each other, before letting out airy laughs.

Bakugou lets the rest of his group go in front of him, before stepping over to the living room. Seated and standing throughout, different, unfamiliar faces were gathered together. Groups had already formed; a dancing and twirling circle, a card game circle, a conversation only circle, a drinking circle, and even a circle surrounding the tall Christmas tree at the corner of the room.

It doesn’t take long for the group to split.

Aoyama pulls Ashido towards the rest of the girls, huddled around the fireplace, sipping on hot mugs of chocolate. Kaminari hurries to his tired eyed, purple friend, Sero jogs towards Sato and Tokoyami, and Kirishima is surprised (read: jumped) by Testutetsu and his friends.

Which left Bakugou still standing by the entrance.

He slowly trudges his way around the living room, eavesdropping on the different conversations, in order to see if that’s the circle he wants to join.

But, even after overhearing and eying at the last circle, Bakugou decides he doesn’t want to join any.

Kirishima better uphold his damn promise. Cause, this shit is boring as hell.

He doesn’t know what compels him to do it, but Bakugou decides to grab a drink off the long table of assorted drinks and finger food, and simply sit on one of the couches. Oddly enough, no one was seated over to where he was looking.

Taking a red solo cup of who knows what, Bakugou starts walking around the crowd, and hurries to the open couch.

And, just his luck, he bumps into someone right as he tries to sit down.

Luckily, neither his drink, nor the other person’s, spill. But, as Bakugou looks over to his right, ready to offer a curt apology, he halts.

Staring back at him, was a damn idiot, in the same ugly Christmas sweater as him. And, on top of his head, he wore a springy star, jumping in the air.

“O-Oh, sorry.” The freckled stranger voices, woobly smiling. “But, I think one of us has to change.”

“You need to change.” Bakugou states firmly, settling down close to the armrest of the couch.

The grinning guy seats himself next to him, thighs pressing together. “Well, I arrived here first. So,” He shrugs teasingly, “If anyone’s changing, it’s you.”

Bakugou huffs, taking a sip of the beverage in his hand and trying to avoid any further conversation.

And, instantly, he almost spits that shit out.

“What the hell?!” He blurts. The sweet, sugary flavor of the obvious vodka-mix coats all over his mouth.

“Yeah, I took a sip, and that drink is a little too sweet for me, too.” The stranger chuckles, shaking his head.

“Who fucking brought this?”

Bakugou hears the stranger hum. “If I had to guess, it was probably that Ashido I spoke with a while ago.”

“Hell nah.” Bakugou defends quickly. “We came together. I would know.”

“Really?” The stranger’s face lights up, in recognition. “Wait, are you perhaps her boyfriend?” He asks excitedly. “She did say he's the most attractive person in the room.”

Bakugou snorts. “Hell nah. I would never.” He throws a nonchalant toss of his head over Kirishima's direction, where he was talking to a group of other guys. “Her ‘attractive’ boyfriend would be Shitty Hair, over there.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Bakugou notices he fumbles with his own red solo cup, in between his scarred hands. “I— There’s just so many people here, I only know a few.”

“I don’t know anyone else, other than my close four.” Bakugou clicks his tongue, “Fuck, I guess close five. Jirou and I are cool.”

“Well, you definitely know more than me.” The guy chuckles, “I just know Aoyama and Ochako.”

“The hell? Then, why did you show up?”

“Designated driver.”

“..Fucking lame.”

The guy laughs out loud, and Bakugou enjoys the genuine mirth that slips through his lips. “I really was hoping my luck would help me meet people! But, uh, I guess it’s been a freaking lame night.”

Begrudgingly, not wanting to get up and grab a different drink, Bakugou willingly swallows down a gulp of Pepto Bismol. He lets out a quick cough. “Well, you met me.”

“..That is true.” He smiles back. “Pretty good luck I have, huh?”

“Bad luck.” Bakugou huffs, “It’s bad luck.”

“Oh really? Then,” The guy points at Bakugou. “Is your name Kyuu?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but is unable to hold back his laugh. “I’m not literal bad luck, dumbass.”

“Then you’re not so bad! I bet your name isn’t even that bad, either. Nothing is as bad as-”

“Bakugou.”

“Hm?”

Taking another sip, Bakugou looks back at those evergreen eyes. “My name.”

Those freckles scattered over his cheeks are covered by the red flush that slowly floods him. “Ah, m-my name’s Midoriya. Hi.”

“Hey.” Bakugou lifts his cup up. “Happy Holidays, or whatever.”

Midoriya smiles softly, before clinking his cup together with Bakugou’s. “Happy Holidays, or whatever. From one ugly Christmas tree to another.”

“Which, you seriously need to fucking change.” Bakugou reminds in fein resolve.

With a small push on his shoulders, Midoriya giggles, raising a quip brow. “Don’t start demanding, when your hair’s looking like that.”

"The fuck's wrong with my hair?"

"Everything."

Bakugou barks a laugh. "You got some fucking nerve. With your stupid dangly star."

"Perhaps, you could say our stars aligned, tonight." Midoriya shakes his head, blushing once more. He looks away. "Ah, sorry. That sounded way cooler in my head. Forget I said that."

Fuck. Fucking shit.

Bakugou blames it all on the Christmas energy, contagious and destroying him from the inside.

He blames the damn Mariah Carey that’s uplifting his own damn stubborn spirits.

He blames the smell of Gingerbread and Cinnamon, wafting in the air, and the toasty, cozy heat that wraps around him, snug.

Because, now his heart’s melting, over this damn idiot in the same ugly Christmas sweater as him.

[mermaidsneedwater]

you see his baby photos

photographs for this post are here

⇒ jaebeom

“Jaebeom will kill me if he knows we’re doing this.”

“Doing what?”

You and Jaebeom’s mom whipped around from the couch to see him standing in the doorway.

“Uh, nothing!” You panicked. “Just trying to decide what we should eat for dinner.”

Not believing you, Jaebeom walked to the couch to see his childhood photographs sprawled out over the coffee table and couch.

“Eomma!” He groaned.

“Don’t be mad at your mom!” you said, “I begged her to let me see them.”

Grumbling, he sat next to you on the couch as he looked through the photos on the page in your lap.

“Whatever, you were going to find them eventually.” He shrugged.

Taking that as his blessing to continue, Jaebeom’s mom showed you a photo of him as a chubby baby, sitting happily on a swing.

You were unable to contain your delight as your mouth formed into an o, “Jae you were the cutest baby ever! I just want to gobble you up.”

“Yeah, he was.” His mom remarked fondly.

“Was?” Jaebeom asked slightly irritated.

“Not so much anymore with those awful piercings.” His mother disapproved, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Shocked, Jaebeom placed a hand over his heart. “So mean. I took it out for you.”

“And you look so handsome now without it.” His mother remarked, not looking up from the photo she was looking at. “Don’t you think Y/N?”

Blushing, you placed your hand on his cheek, “I think he looks handsome all the time.”

⇒ mark

You held the photograph of Mark and compared it to his face. You bit your lip, not wanting to say what you thought.

“What? You look like you want to say something.” Mark said, noticing your reaction.

Exhaling, you answered. “Yes, but don’t get mad.”

“I won’t now tell me.” Mark insisted.

He sat on his knees by the box of his memorabilia, interested in hearing what you had to say.

“Did you ever watch this cartoon, Crayon Shin-Chan?”

“Maybe? I think I used to watch it on Saturday mornings.”

“You look exactly like the main character, Shin-Chan, in this picture,” you said holding up the photo of mark as a baby.

Mark looked at you blankly.

“Okay let me show you.” You said.

You googled a picture of the character and held up your phone and the photograph side by side.

Inspecting the two, Mark rolled his eyes. “I don’t see it.”

“You look identical!” You exclaimed.

Shaking his head, he kept sorting photographs, “nope. I don’t look anything like him.”

“How do you not see it!” You said. “If you were a cartoon you would literally be Shin-Chan.”

“Babe, that would be like if I told you that you look like Spongebob.”

“Hey! That’s not even a remotely fair comparison.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m saying I don’t look like him.”

“Fine, agree to disagree.” You said, “even though I’m clearly right.”

Mark looked at you, but couldn’t help but laugh at your comment as you both kept sorting through photos.

⇒ jackson

Jackson was no help when it came to these kind of things.

His mom had texted you, I sent you some of Jackson’s baby photos. Let me know which ones you think are cute and I’ll get them framed.

Simple enough right? Not quite.

The afternoon had stretched into the evening as you and Jackson reminisced and discovered the pictures.

“You were so energetic.” You commented, holding the photograph of baby Jackson between your fingers. He stood smiling in a victory pose “I wonder...”

“What?” He asked, curious at your thought.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends as kids?”

“Ha! Absolutely not.” Jackson replied instantly.

“What? Why?” You frowned.

“Princess let me tell you something. Back then? You were so out of my league.” Jackson explained. “I would’ve never had a chance of being friends, much less your boyfriend.”

“That’s not true.” You protested. “I was pretty shy, you would’ve thought that I couldn’t speak.”

Shaking his head Jackson took the photograph from you and set it down on the table.

“Well then why don’t you tell me what you think.” You said, interested in hearing his theory.

“Gladly. We would’ve been classmates, I would’ve definitely had a crush on you, but being the immature person I was, I would’ve teased you incessantly. You would get so annoyed with me, but would eventually come to realize it was my stupid ways. I would eventually get the courage to ask you out, but you would let me down easy.” Jackson mapped out.

“You make me sound so unattainable.” You pouted. “I’ll tell you what I think. We would’ve been friends, you were class clown so everyone would’ve been friends with you. I would’ve had a huge crush on you, but I never would’ve said anything because I was so shy. Eventually, we’d graduate never being more than friends.”

Soaking up your story in silence, Jackson finally remarked. “I’m so glad we didn’t know each other as kids.”

⇒ jinyoung

“Oh my god.” You covered your mouth to muffle your laughter. “Jinyoung what is this?!”

You pointed and flipped through his baby photo album that contained not one, but three pages of Jinyoung sulking at various places.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Jinyoung grumbled sitting back on the couch.

On this uneventful afternoon, you’d decided to do some cleaning in your apartment, only to discover a box of photo albums Jinyoung’s parents had sent over to your apartment many months ago. Unfortunately for Jinyoung that meant more reminiscing over his baby photos and less cleaning.

“You were such a sulky baby!” You exclaimed. “Oh gosh, this one is the best.”

His ears perked up as he leaned forward to look at the photo you were pointing at.

In the photograph Jinyoung stood pouting, his large ears pointing outwards as he stood straight. He seemed to be dressed in a turquoise crocheted tank top.

“I was probably annoyed with something very reasonable!” Jinyoung attempted to defend.

Looking at him with an eyebrow raised, he held his hands up in defeat. “Fine. I was upset because my mom wouldn’t stop taking pictures of me. But don’t you think you have any photos throwing fit?”

“I definitely do, but not to the varying extent that you do,” you replied.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he spoke “alright, I think I’ve seen enough of my embarrassing pictures for the day.”

“Hey, at least you grew into your ears,” you giggled, poking his side.

He turned to give you the same sulking look as the photograph. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Turning to look at him, you continued flipping through the book, “I love you too,”

You leaned to kiss both of his ears “especially your ears” you then leaned in to peck his lips, resting your forehead against his “and your face when you’re sulking.”

⇒ youngjae

You sifted through the photographs of Youngjae past on your coffee table.

JYP had asked Youngjae to send in a baby photo of himself as a special photo card option for their next comeback.

Stressed and overwhelmed by the pressures of idol life, Youngjae had delayed this task by weeks.

As you cooked dinner, you glanced at Youngjae’s phone to see a message.

You need to send in your baby photo ASAP.

You finished cooking and headed to your albums. There were too many choices. Flipping through the albums you narrowed your choices down to three photos. Laying them out on the coffee table, you folded your hands on your lap contemplating.

Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize Youngjae had awoken from his nap until he wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey,” Youngjae said, his voice still groggy. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve been putting off sending your baby photo so I thought I’d help you out.” You informed him.

“Thank you darling.” He kissed your cheek before sitting down next you.

“Any thoughts on which one to send?” You turned to him. “I narrowed it down to three. I know which one I think you should send in, but it should be your choice.”

Scanning the photos in front of him, Youngjae finally spoke, “let’s point to our choice at the same time.”

“1”

“2”

“3” you said at that same time.

Looking to where your fingers pointed you smiled.

“I guess it’s settled then.” Youngjae laughed.

The photo you’d both picked had been one of Youngjae and his father. He was holding his son as Youngjae drank from a bottle.

“I love this photo, you look just like your dad.” You told him. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

⇒ bambam

“You look so innocent.” You showed Bambam the photograph. “What happened to you?”

Bambam looked up from his phone to see his baby photo on your phone.

“Hey! How did you get that?” He said.

“Your sister sent it to me.” You replied nonchalantly. “She sent some real gems.”

“Since when are you and Baby texting about me?” Bambam asked, curious.

“Maybe a month?” You said, thinking back to the first time she texted.

“A month!” Bambam exclaimed. “Oh god.”

“Oh god is right. I can see why you’re a performer now, you’re a natural.” You told him.

Leaning his back on the couch, he sat up thinking about your earlier comment.

“What did you mean I was so innocent.” He pouted folding his shoulder. “I’m still squeaky clean.”

“Oh please, the Bambam I know now is literally the guy who texted me last week after work that he wanted me on the bed and ready for his big–“

“Okay! I get it.” Bambam interrupted.

“See? Not so innocent.” You said. You held up his baby photo “This baby on the other hand, total angel.”

⇒ yugyeom

“Y/N don’t look at that.” Yugyeom said.

Ignoring his warning you continued flipping through his childhood album. You looked up to see your man child of a boyfriend towering over you and pouting.

“These are so embarrassing, please don’t.” He pleaded with you.

“You were so cute!” You countered. “Please let me see them. I think you were adorable.”

Giving in, he sat next to you on the couch. “Fine. But I’m going to go through them too.”

You both sat on the couch, placing the album between you.

“Are you wearing roller skates in this?” You pointed to baby Yugyeom’s feet. “I wanna hear the story behind this.”

“Oh man, that was before I cut my head.” Yugyeom reminisced.

“What?!” You said, shocked that he had been in so much danger.

“Yeah. My dad had taken me and my brother out to rollerskate. I was so stubborn as a kid, I refused to wear a helmet.” Yugyeom recounted to you. “Things were fine until I tripped on my skate and ended up hitting my head on a rock. There was blood everywhere”

“That must’ve been scary.” You said, leaning on his shoulder.

“I think my dad was more freaked out that me. Luckily I only needed two stitches.” He rested his head against yours. “I still have the scar.”

You leaned back as Yugyeom pulled his hair out of his face. Lifting it up, he revealed a scar going into his forehead.

Reaching out, you gingerly touched it. Pressing a kiss to your index and middle finger you placed it on the scar.

“How come I never noticed this scar before?” You wondered aloud. “It makes you look sexy.”

Scoffing, Yugyeom released the hair he was holding. “I was such an idiot. Hopefully our kids don’t turn out as dumb as me.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words. Hopefully our kids don’t turn out as dumb as me. He was thinking about that?

Taking in your reaction, he lightly coughed, “I mean you know, in the future. The very far future.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “I hope they can dance like you. It would be a shame if they got my two left feet!”

return to masterlist

[btsxmalereaders]

may I request a jimin x reader smut? jimin is doing photoshoots and reader gets a little impatient and they end up fucking in the dressing room?

Sorry it took me so long ㅠㅠ but here it is!!

• Pairing: Park Jimin x Male Reader.

• Genre: Smut.

• Word Count: 1.7 k

• top!reader

It is a long, long day. It's barely half past six, but you woke up really early and the day seems to never end.

You're sitting next to the staff and makeup artists in the building, constantly listening to the photographer's indications, the clicking of the cameras, the sound of steps as the guys strike new poses in front of them.

Soon, BTS would do the announcement of a brand new album, so they are preparing the last set of pictures of the 4 concepts.

They look amazing, the group photos were fun to shoot and to see. The guys were fooling around, but now the individual ones are a bit more serious. So they cling to their denim jackets and shoot deep glances at the camera lens.

Namjoon is the first one to pose, so the rest gets retouch on their makeup and grab a snack in the meantime.

Jimin, on the other side, gets closer to you. So you stand up. He gives you a warm smile and hugs you tightly. He's really sweet and takes every chance to be with you, closer, giving you all his love.

“What do you think?” He asks as he stands in front of you. His arms are resting casually on your waist.

“I think this is my favorite concept. And that you look very nice.” You smile and then fix the collar of his jacket.

Jimin kisses you briefly after that. It's not a surprise that he likes being complimented, but he absolutely loves when you remind him how handsome he looks, he even gets shy when the compliments become lewd.

His hands now are in your lower back, pulling you in so your bodies are in contact. His hot breath sending you chills down your spine, his plump and shinny lips looking so kissable. He has the ability to look desirable in a blink of an eye, he is charming, attractive, getting all the sights of the people in a room when he walks in.

There's always something about him that can make your day better. He cheers you up, he is romantic, he is the number one support in your life and simply makes your life better. But also, he can make you go crazy and turn you on with just the one and correct movement. He knows how to play his cards, and you know that very damn well.

“Just nice?” Jimin murmurs. “That's all?”

You roll you eyes when you notice the tone of his voice, pretending he's deeply offended.

“I would say more, but we're not alone. The guys could hear us...”

He smirks. “It's not like they haven't heard us before, babe.”

With that said, he pulls you in, so you are way more closer. His lips are giving you soft and short pecks on all over your face and neck. You can tell Jimin is doing it to provoke you, and he is succeeding, unfortunately.

Too focused on his touch, you decide to close your eyes and rest your forehead on his shoulder before he carefully bites your shoulder and leaves a longer kiss on your neck.

A soft and weak moan leaves your mouth, but only Jimin can hear it.

He separates to see your reddened cheeks and chuckles at that. “I will go to get my makeup retouch...”

And before he can walk away, you take him by his wrists, avoiding him to leave right now. He couldn't just do that.

“N-no!” You murmur. “Don't leave.”

He arches his eyebrow, he knows what he has done. Jimin loves to tease you until you can't handle it no more and start to literally beg for what you want.

You look around you to make sure no one's paying attention to you two and also to look for a room. Where's the dressing room, again?

“What's up, babe? What are you looking for?” He babbles with a smile on his face and then you stare at him, lasciviously.

“Finish what you started, Minie.”

Just when the photographer is asking Taehyung to get on position to his photoshoot, you take Jimin by his hand and start walking to the dressing room, at the back of the building.

Jimin can only deny with his head but quickly walks behind you, giggling until you enter the room. He closes the door and puts the latch so no one else can enter.

“Can't you wait until we get ho-” A kiss interrupts him. You are desperate, wanting this rush of adrenaline last a bit more.

Jimin can't really say no to you, and he has to admit that he also wants this as much as you do. He started it for a reason.

The kiss becomes sloppy as you start to walk backwards. Your back touches a wall and Jimin places his hands on your hips, moving his against you, grinding on you slowly.

“Jimin” You whisper between the kiss, needing more contact, needing his hands somewhere else. Jimin, however, keeps kissing you before moving his fingers to pull your jeans, just a bit, to tease you even more.

He places his index and middle fingers under the jeans and the elastic of your underwear, going down slowly, having more contact with your skin. You hiss, your hands grab his wrists to keep them there.

“Please” Again, you whisper. Jimin separates from you to see your reddened cheeks, your eyes closed but your mouth opened, gasping.

“What do you want me to do, babe?”

“Get-, get these jeans off me, please.”

Jimin smirks, satisfied with your answer and does as told. He unzips and pulls down the clothing until they're on your ankles. He gets on his knees and starts to leave small kisses all the way up your legs until his breath is hitting your crotch.

Noticing how you're inevitable getting hard under your underwear, he immediately pulls it down too. A loud moan leaves your mouth, but you put your hand on your mouth. It'd be really uncomfortable and awkward if someone could hear you.

Jimin stands up, grinding against you again, feeling how you're dripping pre-cum as his thigh's rubbing against your length. You try to unzip his jeans but he's faster, firstly taking off his shoes and then taking them off, with his boxer as well, in a second.

In contrast to your thick, straining thighs, Jimin's are lean and subtle. You love tracing patterns all over the skin of his soft, tender legs. You grab him by the shoulders and with a fast movement, his back is now against the white wall.

One of your hands take him by his waist while the other one goes all the way down from his hip to his back of his left knee, making him lift it, so there's more space for you to get closer.

As you kiss him you completely take off the jeans that were around your ankles. Jimin's hands are on your hair and neck, his tongue tangling with yours in a filthy way. Your free hand gets closer to his arse, squeezing it softly but still getting a good reaction from Jimin.

Two of your fingers looks for his entrance, and then Jimin breaks the kiss.

“Condom” He stops to regain his posture and catch his breath. “In my bag. Go get it, behind you.”

You quickly seek for the bag he always carries, opening the only zip it has and look between his belongings for the condom. You take it and open it fastly, as you turn around you see that Jimin is already preparing himself, with some fingers opening him, moaning and breathing slowly.

And you roll the condom on so fast you almost broke it. You reach for Jimin, going back to your early position, grabbing the back of his knee with one hand and the other now guiding your own cock to his ass.

He takes out his wet fingers once he feels prepared. Last night he stretched himself so he feels ready in minutes.

You fudge his thigh further apart. When the position is right, you lean forward, taking advantage of that to kiss his neck and jaw. You can hear how his breath hitching from the feeling of your warmth tongue sliding over his skin. Finally, you grip your own cock, and, with one hand still on Jimin's knee, guide him until you're against his entrance. You both hold your breath.

Bit by bit, you slide your cock inside him. His moans can only be heard by you since he pressed his mouth against your shoulder. Your left hand takes his hard length, going up and down at the rhythm of your thrusting.

It's slowly at the beginning, you're still being careful to not hurt him. However, the clock's ticking, so your movements become faster. Jimin seems to enjoy it as he encourages you to keep moving.

The sound of your skin slamming against his, his panting and your own moans are the only things that can be heard inside the room.

Your bodies slightly sweating, getting hotter, closer. Jimin's legs visibly shaking after a few minutes if you hitting his prostate. You feel a familiar heat on your belly, so your hand twists faster around Jimin, making him separate from you to inevitably arch his back.

He doesn't say a word, he simply moans your name as you feel his warm cum wetting your hand. Moments later you cum as well, squeezing your hand around his waist, breathing irregularly against his neck.

It takes you both a few minutes to feel better. You put his leg down, sliding out of him and kissing him for a few seconds. “You're okay?”

He nods and smiles at you. “I'm great. I am always great when I'm with you”

Jimin takes a small towel from the bag to clean your hand and himself.

You two get dressed and try to look not so disheveled, but it is still pretty obvious that you had sex.

“I gotta change my clothes or else the stylists will end me.” He jokes as he sees himself in the mirror.

You chuckle and hug him. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. I love it when you're really needy and desperate to have sex in random places.” Jimin murmurs before kissing you. “I'll go back to work. But maybe we can repeat this after the photoshoot is over, what do you think?”

Rules.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

6. Passion Project

“What the hell am I reading?” The woman squealed in his ear, “And why is it ALWAYS something bizarre with you?”

“Did my favorite perennial flower get my emails?”

“Simon… you do know that I have both college AND a job to do, right? That not all of us achieve our dreams the first try?”

“I pay you good money for the work that I ask you to do!” Simon complained. “Unlike your day job that both pays you less than your male counterparts and less than you deserve in general.”

“Yeah, well… I live in the real world. Not like there’s some magical train to take me away from society and all it's problems. But, seriously… researching is one thing, but this feels oddly like stalking. First of all… I had to do some very illegal things to get this information - which, yes, I went ahead and did it, because by the time I got to that point I was feeling a little bit insulted by the thought of failing. Secondly… who IS this woman, Simon? How do you even know about her and what are you going to do with this information?”

“I met her in my everyday life and was interested in her, but found a simple background check difficult. I was people watching for a new story, but it’s become more like a passion project, now. But, I feel like you’ve got a lot to tell me about her!” He was teeming with excitement.

“I… found out things, things that I never would have wanted to ever know about anybody and am now honestly considering charging you for the therapy it’s gonna take me to get over this information… Where in your everyday life did you meet this person?”

“Why… what’s… what’s wrong with her?” Simon asked.

“A LOT. But… I don’t know… I guess she’s doing better, if you’re just seeing her out and about, but… I just…” Tulip yelped.

“Tools???” Simon called out.

Deep breathing. Then, she was back. “Sorry. Mikayla’s out, so I’m by myself and EVERYTHING is startling me. I’m gonna send you everything I found and my charges for this information. And Simon… please don’t ever send me anything like this again, and I mean it.”

“I only wanted to find out if she changed her name and why. How difficult could the information have been?”

“Most people don’t just change their names out of boredom, Simon. Also… it isn’t right to look into somebody this way. I’m only giving it to you because I don’t deserve to be the only person who has had to look at this.”

“That bad?” He heard sniffling. “Tools…”

“No, Simon! This is messed up! Don’t ask me for another favor again if you don’t know ANYTHING about the situation!”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” 

She let out a deep breath. “Is your mom going to the retreat or whatever this year?”

“Yeah. She’s super excited about it. She says that she hasn’t seen yours in too long. Is she going?”

“Yeah, she was able to scrape up this year to reserve her spot.”

“Mom’s already pulling out all of her Single Mom Squad shit.”

Tulip groaned. “I’m really glad that they had a support group and stuff, but honestly. Why did it become their entire personality for so long?”

“Because it was their little escape from having smartasses like us at home.” Tulip laughed and Simon reiterated, “Really sorry about whatever you read about Grace.”

“I… Is this somebody that you think that you could care about, Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Okay. Just… be careful. I don’t see how they’re even still standing, much less how they’re in a position to care for someone else. I don’t know if I’m more afraid that you might get hurt if you get attached or that she might, but… it just looks like it’d be super hard to build with this person. They’ve got… a lot of... history.”

“She’s tried to warn me of that and I ignored her and will most likely ignore you.”

“Well, I did my part, anyway.”

.

Her name was not Grace St. Catherine… Well, it was, because she had it legally changed four years ago. But it had been Grace Monroe when she was born… up until when she was 10.

She was kidnapped when she was 10. Apparently there was a ransom requested, and whenever it was set to happen, the kidnappers took the money and did not return the child. Nobody who knew her before saw her again for 8 years.

When she was 18, she was arrested for assault and when giving her name to arresting officers, said 148, but eventually Grace Monroe. From there, she was discovered to have been missing for 8 years and her parents were contacted.

The Monroes conducted every possible test available to check the well being of their now 18 year old daughter. She was treated for several illnesses, including STDs and a number of mental issues...

She was committed at age 18, and declared a ward of her parents, instead of convicted, and spent the next three years recovering. At age 21, she was allowed to be classified as an adult. She changed her name, and lived with her parents until 2 years ago...

When she began working at the bookstore...

Tulip had even been able to find court documents, police records, and psychiatric files. So… yeah. He owed her big time, even beyond payment for having read even a portion of this stuff. Some of it was simply things Grace had reported to her doctors. Some were things that she had not spoken of, but there was physical evidence enough to grant some ideas. 

Years of damage to her uterus… Bruises and scars on her back, knees, thighs, wrists… A symbol carved into the back of her neck… He clicked on the images given from medical reports and saw the same A that had been spray painted on targets’ doors. He now knew who these people were, and why they deserved whatever Grace and her friends were doing to them. He looked at the photos of the girl before her disappearance vs the teenager in the mugshot. That didn’t even look like HIS Grace. She was the same person. He saw familiar features - her perfect round nose and beautiful full lips, the shape of her face a little more shapely there - probably wasn’t eating as well… but… that was a stranger. Only her eyes looked the same. Passionate but filled with pain. Beautiful and wide enough to get lost in, but dark, cold, and freakishly mysterious. 

He quickly called her and she picked up, “Did I not just see you a few hours ago?” she teased.

“I was just thinking about you… hoping that you’re okay tonight. Are you okay?”

She laughed, “Are you?”

“I just… want you to know… whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you.”

She was quiet for a long time. He wondered what she was doing on the other end of the line. She was looking at a selection of masks and knee pads, but her mind was no longer on the outfit for her Date Night, but the man on the other side of this phone conversation.

“Thanks, Simon… Um… Are… you sick? Is something happening to you? This just really feels out of nowhere and quite frankly, I’m a little worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about! I’m fine. I just… really care about you, and had to tell you that.” 

Grace could’ve sworn that she saw a chorus of red flags being twirled around before her. Dancers, circling her and performing tricks with them. She was never one for rose colored glasses. She learned a long time ago that those weren’t for her… so these were red flags. She also knew that she often saw red flags where there were white ones. Because she didn’t believe in surrender, only blood for blood. She was angry in general, and usually seeing red. Simon’s red flags were probably no more red than any other poor guy that tried to simply make her smile over the past few years. But then he said,  “Grace, I lo…”

“Simon, I really can’t do this right now. I’ve got something I’m in the middle of. So, like… Just… I’ll talk to you another time.” She hung up and snatched a mask that looked like it was crying blood and a pair of purple knee pads. “Not L words, Simon. For fuck’s sake…”

.

Simon had learned so much, then she was just gone. She wasn’t at the bookstore in days and whenever he finally asked her coworker, they said that she had a no call, no show and they hadn’t heard from her since. She didn’t respond to any of his texts. She seemingly deactivated social media (or worse, blocked him), and she wasn’t even staying at home, because he drove by several times for two days, then literally camped outside for another two. If she was inside, she hadn’t answered, and he hoped that she wasn’t just ignoring him pining through the door. He hoped that she just wasn’t there to hear him beg her to please at least tell him what he did wrong.

He went into the flower shop and the guy that he had become super familiar with as “152” online, even though his nametag said “Heath,” asked him what he could help him with. Simon ordered a bouquet and wrote out a card for Grace, apologizing for whatever he did wrong and asking her to come back, He sighed and asked Heath, “Could you make sure that Grace gets this, please?”

“Grace?” the guy repeated, eyeing Simon suspiciously. “I don’t know any Grace, Mister.”

“148, maybe?” 

Now, the guy looked downright ready to fight. “I don’t know what you mean, but you’re making me uncomfortable, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave, now.” He even tried to refund him for the flowers.

“No, no… Please, just… tell her that I’ll be waiting, if she ever feels better…” He left and Heath followed him out of the door, watched him get into his car and drive off before he went back in to call Grace, panicked about that visit.

“Who the hell is this person and how does he know where I work?” Heath asked. 

“Let me guess, a little taller than me, skinny, blond with gray eyes and something on his head trying desperately to be a ponytail? That was Simon. I must’ve mentioned the flower shop, or something.” She knew that she never had, but to tell her friend that this person had potentially stalked her and learned about him in the process just seemed like it would cause more harm than taking the blame.

“You must’ve mentioned it? Grace. Either you mentioned it, or you didn’t, and YOU would know. It isn’t like you to be careless about our personal information!”

“I know, I know, but maybe I said that it was my favorite flower shop or something. Heath. You know that if you want, I can get you a job at basically anywhere else that I own.”

“I like flowers!”

“Then, I’ll buy another flower shop you can work at, if he made you feel threatened.” 

“Are you safe? He seems a little attached. He bought a really expensive bouquet and left a card. It’s sealed but I can read it to you.”

“No, I’ll stop by. I’ve got some job hunting to do, but…”

“Why don’t you just work somewhere that you’re familiar with, or somewhere that you own?”

“I don’t know. Because, I’m suddenly hyper aware of how messed up I am again, and I wanna feel like a normal person.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but normal people don’t get to just start over when life seems to be too much. We’ve gotta just continue to live it out, and change only ourselves, and maybe eventually our circumstances. Normal people would have called out of work (if they could even afford to) and came back, whether or not they were better and pushed through being miserable.”

“Are you suggesting that I return to the bookstore and ask for my job back?”

“Yeah. If it’s normal that you’re shooting for. But… I’ve got the feeling that you’re avoiding this creep.”

“I think things are moving way too fast. That’s terrifying.”

“Good news… that’s terrifying for normal people, too. Not everything that we do and feel is because of what the Apex did to us. If your manager likes you and values you, you can probably coax them into forgiving you for vanishing, with a good sob story.”

“Gonna go with dead homie,” she said. “Meds, etc. The whole works. If that doesn’t work, guess I’ll buy the bookstore. I really don’t feel like looking for another job, anyway… And I guess I can’t avoid him forever.”

.

She was back at work the next week. She noticed Simon sitting in the coffee shop whenever she came in. She skipped going for her old routine, to clock back in and get to work. She had to take down the Read Across America stuff and make sure to have all the Easter and Earth Day stuff situated… When was Easter this year? She checked her calendar as she grabbed her legal pad to start planning displays whenever she almost ran into Simon. He’d come over when he saw her return to the floor. She was startled. Then annoyed. “Simon. Please…”

“What did I do?”

“You’re… getting a little bit too… familiar. You didn’t do anything, I just don’t know how to handle having somebody else in my space this much. I just… need some space.”

He frowned and nodded his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay. You’re the boss.” She wanted to say something… explain why she was like this… why she could only trust her friends, who were more like her immediate family than her parents… even that she desperately wanted Simon to be in her space and to wait for her to be comfortable with having him there…

But, she couldn’t find any of those words. Even if she had, what if she were wrong? What if Simon catching feelings would be the worst thing to ever happen to her, or to HIM, for that matter. She watched him go, and hoped that after she had some time to chill out a little bit, she might be able to contact him again, and get another chance. So, she watched him leave the bookstore and get into his car. He peeled off, and she didn’t know if that meant he was angry or if there was a fluke with the car. She just hoped that he didn’t just show up at her friend’s job or anything else like that. Or something worse. The last thing he wanted while sad was to get on her friends’ bad side. The last thing she wanted was for him to learn that the hard way.

Simon overthrew every piece of furniture in his home. Samantha rushed into her room and hid, terrified of the noise. He cried, shook, paced…. How could he show her that he was on her side? Why did she want space?? Was she afraid of him??? DID SHE HATE HIM???? He flopped onto the floor, holding his head and shivering with tears, trying to catch his breath. 

He needed some place else to handle dealing with her, he realized as he glanced around his demolished home. A storage unit, maybe… He collected all of his stuff pertaining to her and put it all together. He stuffed it into one of his bags and put it into his trunk. He could clean up his house whenever he stored things away safely. He needed a big storage unit. He had a feeling that he was going to be collecting more while giving her some “space.”

This was how he might cope. He turned on the light in the new storage space and set down a few boxes. He hadn’t been back into the bookstore. There was no need. He wasn’t writing right now, anyway. He had more important things to do. He’d printed out  everything Tulip had researched for him and made plans to visit places he highlighted from all of the files. He got some photos professionally printed up - some poster size, some not as big, and some he simply just had various photo sizes. He just thought they would make nice decor for his new space. Grace had deactivated, but he still had just about every photo of her saved to his phone or computer, and they had taken a few as well…

He also… was starting to take them of her whenever he watched her… He just really missed her. It was only a couple of months in her presence, but that was longer than he had been interested in another person in a while, and he had never been this interested in anyone before. Any time he ever thought that he might be going too far, he reminded himself that she had both done and been through much worse than anything that he was up to at the moment, and that became his truth up until the very last time that he ever had to tell himself anything. 

That was May. By May… he didn’t think. It was simply part of his lifestyle. Following, watching, studying, photographing, sometimes recording. But, she still hadn’t reached out to him, and he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to reach out to her. He tried to test it, by leaving her a bouquet of those red poppies that he’d seen her and her friends put on their friend’s grave. He watched, recording her reaction whenever she got home and saw them on her doorstop. She looked around, startled, kneeled to check the card. “Missing you. - S” She looked… relieved. He wasn’t sure who she thought they were from, but she grabbed them, went inside, and moments later, came out with an overnight bag and her turtle. She didn’t come home for days.

Next, he texted and said, “Hey. Sent you flowers. My mom asked about you. Hope you’re okay.” He watched her check the text before she went into the train station, but she didn’t reply. So… she still wasn’t ready, but he was letting her know that he was still waiting. By that time, nothing felt unreasonable to him. He was simply waiting for her to realize that she’d had enough space. He was curious about where she went to when she’d leave for days. The next time he scared her into not staying home alone, he’d follow. It was all that he could do at the moment.

07. Things Went Wrong

[emmyrosee]

part 2 for the axel angst please!!🥺💓💙

The searing sun peeking in through the windows was the first thing to rouse you awake, and maybe that was for the best. Last night lingered on your tongue like a bad hangover, going stale as it mixes with the acidity of the new day.

The house was almost unrecognizable; Axel’s belongings tossed without care and broken everywhere. Clothes, photos, jewelry, some of his scholarship memorabilia and alumni shit, it didn’t feel the same. It felt more like a horror film set than a home.

You gently sat up off the hard, cold floor, back nerves scolding you wildly as your head spun around, refusing to settle on one thing. Trying to focus only increased the nausea cemented in your stomach. Every fiber of your soul hurt, every part of you was drained with exhaustion.

You reach down to push yourself off of the hardwood, and you flinch when your hand lands on a mop of sorts. When you retract your palm and look down, Axel lay sleeping next to you, ever the loyal mutt. It brought you a twisted sense of comfort to see the exhaustion and sickness ectched on his once beautiful features, and if it were any other case, you’d want nothing more than to bring him to bed and nurse him back to himself.

You hated that you still wanted to do only that. You reach down to caress his cheek, and a sudden memory wracks through you-

It’s her. From last night. Axel’s hand caressing her flawless cheek.

You once thought Axel flawless, too.

As if burned, you yank your hand away from him and place it to your chest, the sting of tears prickling your eyes. With a deep, settling sigh, you push yourself up from the hardwood, letting yourself finally rise from the floor. You shook from lack of energy and shambled like a zombie to the bathroom. You look at yourself in the mirror and get lost in your own eyes, the hollowed pools dulled with dustiness. You wondered how you let a man get such a reaction out of you, you’d never let it happen before.

But this wasn’t just any man. This was Axel Cluney, the one man who your heart refused to let go. The man who was saving paycheck after paycheck to buy you a diamond ring before riding off in the sunset with you in his Mustang.

His two babies.

It didn’t matter how bad you hated him and wanted to watch him burn and collapse, go mad without your love.

It just didn’t.

The cold water you splashed on your face does nothing to spark the stale feeling in your body, if anything it makes you realize how numb you are.

A broken, scratchy call of your name snaps you out of your thoughts as you stare at yourself. It’s desperate, needy, like a sick baby who needs it’s mother to calm the illness that wracks through their body.

“Please… where are you? Let’s talk about this, please.”

You chuckle to yourself at his words. What’s there to talk about? What else could either of you begin to say? You lick the corner of your lips and dry your hands and face on a dirtied towel, tossing it randomly back onto the floor. You exit the safer confines of the bathroom before passing Axel; he looked even worse awake than he did asleep:

Tousled wildly was his chocolate brown hair, eyes sunken in like a corpse. His once lively pools of green were glazed from expired tears and swollen from already fighting new ones.

“Hi-“

“What do you want for breakfast?” You say flatly, pushing past him and making your way to the kitchen. He follows, ever the loyal pup, only stopping on one side of the island to face you.

Silence seems to be law as it lingers between you both, his constant gnawing at his bottom lip increasingly making you concerned for canker sores to form on them. It was a nervous habit of his, and you hate how much you care about it. 

“Stop eating your lip and eat your breakfast,” you mutter in annoyance, sliding the plate of buttered toast his way. You fix your own mediocre breakfast, feeling too sick to eat as you pick at your cereal. Looking up from your bowl and through your lashes, you see him toying with the warm bread, eyes darting from his plate to the clock on the stove.

“It’s 7:15,” he says aloud to seemingly no one. You wonder if it’s secretly to you, a silent hope that you didn’t mean it when you told him he had to be put by seven.

You shrug, “so finish eating and leave.”

“I don’t want to leave,” he says, almost a snap. “I want to talk to you like a fucking adult.”

“And I want to know why you need to lie to me,” you yell, tossing the bowl in the sink. It shatters with a spine tingling clink, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.. “Like, I know the truth, I saw you with this little brat, you were touching her and smirking that stupid smirk, I literally just need to hear you say it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” Axel yells back. “Nothing happened! She came to the garage, Harrison was still working on her car, I took her to dinner-“

“WHY DID YOU TAKE HER TO DINNER!” You screamed, tearing at your hair. The room falls silent as you continue to stare at him, chest rising and falling with each deep gasp you took. “Why-why-why the mustang, why the sudden change of your appearance, why!”

“Is it so weird to believe that I can form relationships with a customer to increase my business?” Axel snaps.

“No, it’s not! You should! But never has anyone ever changed everything about them for a client!”

“I didn’t change everything!”

“You’re right,” you say, chest rising and falling against your pained heart. “Your bullshit attitude and lack of respect will never leave you, no matter what shitbox you drive to seduce women.” You cross your arms tightly over your chest as you pace the floor. Then, you snicker despite yourself, “sorry. Your clients.” With a final glare, you sink back to the floor, knees folded tightly to your chest. Loud pads of footsteps approach you, and out of the corner of your broken eyes, you see legs fold down as Axel sits next to you. He leans his head on your shoulder, sniffling softly.

“What do you want me to do… what can I say to fix this?” 

“What’s your story, Axel?” You mumble. “I just want the truth… was there nothing, was it playful flirting, is it a, b, or c, like… what is the fucking truth, Axel?”

The lump in your throat burns like acid as he says nothing, shoulders stalled as if he forgot how to breathe. Your hand comes up to card his hair softly, his tears sticking to your chest. “I think you need to go,” you mumble sadly. He chokes on a sob and shakes his head, his grip around you tightening. Your nods are numb to counteract his shivering no’s, it makes you sick to have to see him like this, let alone be the one to send him away.

“I wanna fix this,” he whimpers. “Please… I want to fix this.”

“How?” You ask. “How in the name of fuck are you going to fix this? Because please, if you could, do it, Axe!” 

Once again, nothing. You’re not fully sure what you’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t silence. Some dramatic reveals, or a word of assurance that you’re absolutely insane for even thinking he could want to be with anyone else.

And that’s true. You know it is.

But there’s a stranger before you, and until words of charm and poetic justice slip out at an unforgiving pace, you wouldn’t know how you’ve known him.

“This won’t work…” you mumble to the air. “Not like this… there is no way we can come back from this. Not like this.”

“Then we will just have to fix it,” Axel says, words shaky. “We always fix it. Always. There’s never been anything we can’t-“

“Alexander,” you interrupt, effectively silencing him. His eyes are sleepy and wet with his sobs, making your heart physically ache. Your lungs squeeze, and you will yourself to speak. “No. Not now.”

“Is this the end?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you still love me?”

Yes. With every fiber of your soul and being, yes.

“I think so,” you murmur.

“Can you please think about this?” He practically begs. “Please?”

Yeah. You can give him that. You close your eyes and nod, letting the feeling of exhaustion weigh you down.

Broken, almost robotic, Axel slowly stands and shambles towards the door. He numbly, with minimal movement, opens the large entrance, and the light cutting around him makes him look different than you’d seen him these past few hours.

Better. Cleaner. Refound.

One foot crosses the threshold, and he pauses, quickly spinning on his heel to look at you.

“I’ll go, but you need to listen to me.”

“Axel,”

“No.” He says sternly. Your stomach hurts at the gruff, no-negotiate tone of his voice, but you say nothing as you eye him. “You’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to listen good because if this is the last time I’m going to see you, I’m not hiding shit.”

With a thick beat of silence, you swallow the lump in your throat and watch him, nodding slowly. He inhales sharply; “for two years, I gave you the best of me. There is no ‘better’ part of me that I’m saving for someone else, you’ve got him. You’re always going to have him.” He blinks rapidly, and though his voice barely cracks, a new wave of tears flow down his flushed cheeks, splattering on the expensive leather of his jacket.

“And I’ve done everything I fucking can to keep you away from the asshole I once was, and I thought I did a pretty good job. Apparently, not, because here I am making you cry and feel less than like the queen you are. You fuckin’ know that I’d rather have needles shoved in my fucking eyes and razors slicing under my nails than see you cry, and to know that I’m the cause of that is sickening to me.

“I can’t give you the truth you want because I don’t know the truth. I don’t know what I did last night. I don’t think what I did was cheating, but I’m not going to sit here and argue with you about it, because you’re the smartest person I know, and if you’re hurt from something I was too dense and downright stupid to not know would hurt you, then I need to accept that yeah, I guess I cheated like the fuckhead I am, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again. And you have the right to sit here and hate me and despise me all you want, but you’ve got my heart, and I’ll be damned if you don’t get to keep it.

“You need to take time to heal. I got that. And I respect that. I’m going to be at the garage; and when you decide what you want to do, where you want to go, I’ll be there. You are the-“ he cuts himself off with a deep crack of his voice, and upon coughing in his fist to compose himself, you’re left absolutely speechless as to what to say.

“You are.. the single, only thing I want in this fucking life. And I had you and I might’ve lost you. And If I didn’t lose you, I absolutely don’t deserve you. I never did. And if you’re done playing this charade where you think I’m better than I actually am, just leave my stuff in front of the garage. If you never want to see me again, I’m not going to force you to have to look at me.”

There was the poetic explanation you’d wanted.

“When you do to clean up later, the bowl in the sink is broken. Don’t hurt yourself on it.”

With that warning and a quick spin on his heel, Axel slams the door shut behind him, hard enough to shake the good plates his mother bought you both, and leaves you to yourself and your thoughts, your mind a mush as you try to process every word that he said effortlessly. It was like it was rehearsed, and you wonder what bounces around his own mind now, as his truck starts and peels out of your driveway, leaving the rest of fate in your clammy, tear soaked hands.

——

Tagging; @gothguitargal @babyboy-cody @madamaholmes @walkxthexmoon @yesloverboy @billofourtime @kathryn-jane @jadelynlace @multi-fan-lover @shenevertricks1831

I tagged people who originally asked for part two way back, as well as new people who enjoyed it, if you read it and made it this far, I can’t thank you enough for your continued support🥺❤️

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Wine after Whiskey

The post-breakup emotions had washed you clean, there were no more what ifs circling your mind, no more tears flowing, no more breakdowns or questions on what went wrong. 

It was all over­ – so you thought.

It was in the moment that you recognised the familiar head of waves in the same restaurant that you were immersed with all the feelings you thought you left on the bedroom floor, along with with the whisky.

You feel your body go numb, for a moment you can’t even pry your eyes from his figure, his figure bundled in a black coat with a scarf dangling loosely around his neck– The scarf that you brought as a joke because he can never manage to wear scarfs in the correct manner. 

You pull yourself away from the trans that he pulled you into, your eyes waving towards your friend in front of you, her wine scraping her lips as she side-eyes Harry. “Thought he was in London.” She murmurs as she makes her gaze further obvious, 

“Stop staring. He was in London.” ..“I guess he came back to New York for something.” You shrug, driving the sparkling wine down your throat to satisfy the stinging nerves arising in you as the presence of Harry grows more intense. She rolls her eyes, placing her wine glass down on the table, her bluish-green eyes narrowing down on you, “More like he came back for you.” You shake your head and scoff,. There is no way he flew from London to come to New York right before a snow storm is meant to hit, not to mention he is the one who broke off the relationship. If anything, he is presumably praying that the two of you don’t cross paths. 

“He did not come all this way for me, can we go? The snow should be starting soon.” You softly demand, pushing a small strand of hair behind your ear, your hand already gesturing for the waitress for the check. 

You stand to your feet and draw your black coat up your arms, encircling your lilac tinted scarf around your neck, allowing it to fall elegantly against your outfit. You turn around and your eyes directly meet with his, of all the eyes in the room his are the ones already staring at you–burning a vibrant virescence– a burning sensation fills your senses as you feel as though all the breath has been beaten from your chest. 

“Y/N?” His voice sends shivers down your spine, your friend’s own eyes widening as he approaches, clearly, she didn’t even expect he would make an appearance any closer to you. 

“Harry,” You nod, regarding how there are a few females in the restaurant now staring at their phones facing your way undoubtedly snapping pictures or worse, a video. 

“Hey ol’ Harry, don’t acknowledge me or anything. I’m just standing here with your ex.” Your friend mutters, pushing her hair behind her shoulders as she arranges her coat collar, 

“Hi, haven’t missed your smart arse comments.” He rolls his eyes, 

“Haven’t missed your arrogance, how’s the new girl going?” She presses, intentionally trying to exasperate him. The two of them have never really gotten along. 

“Don’t you have another bottle of wine to drink?” He muses, motioning over towards the small bar, “Drunk-o, go get yourself another glass, you look a little thirsty, and not just for wine.” He continues, trying to find the right nerve to hit with her. 

“Stop it, goodbye Harry.” You mutter, swinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door, ignoring the gazes and prying eyes of the others within the restaurant, not caring too much about the fact they are moments away from sending the fan world into total crises with the pictures of you and Harry in the same radius. 

The harshness of the New York wind is something you never grew to enjoy, the air before a snow storm is stone cold. You pull your coat tighter around you, your boots tapping against the snowy pavement, your friend taking a place beside you. 

“Y/N” Your name is announced and you freeze in your tracks, unsure of whether to turn around and meet the green eyed man behind the voice or to keep walking. You take a breath and keep walking, your heart aching as you take every step further away from him, your eyes refusing to look back. 

“Y/N, can we please talk?” Harry’s voice distracts you and it takes you a moment to notice the fact that he has caught up to you, his long legs and pace being enough to casually reach your other side. 

“About what? The fucking weather?” You snap, struggling to keep your emotions concealed as the visions of the breakup begins to haunt you again. 

“I just want to talk.”

“When I wanted to talk you left, you fucking left and went to London without a word.”

“Look, I am sorry. Can we talk, please? preferably in private without her.” He gestures over towards your companion. You stop walking and you breathe in the fresh, crisp air, your mind pacing rapidly in an incoherent manner. What do you do when your ex-stops you in the middle of New York City, wanting to talk? You stare up at him, trying to find the precise words to say to him if any are even available. 

“Why the hell do you choose now to talk? Literally right before a fucking snow apocalypse?” You huff, becoming bothered and confused. He is the one who left.. He got up without warning and left, left you in between the sheets of his hotel room. 

“Can we just talk? My hotel is right over here.” He sighs, “Do I need to get on my fucking knees? Do I need to beg and cry?” He moans, causing your friend to snicker,

“That is a sight I would like to see,” She chuckles, “But, I will leave you two to reminisce about what how Harry likes to leave his girlfriend in a hotel room, maybe this time don’t be a coward about it.” Your friend presses his buttons, “Call me if he decides to be a jackass, again.” She gives you a small hug, proceeding to walk off down the street to her apartment. 

You walk beside Harry, keeping your eyes on the paved concrete, watching your feet step one in front of each other. Your mouth stays tightly closed, nothing being said between the two of you as the bitter wind picks up and small snowflakes begin to fall at a moderate pace. Harry mildly guides you into the entryway of the hotel, the warmness of the lobby radiating you immediately, sending a warm embrace around you. 

It is in the moment that his card swipes the door and pushes it open that the memory of the last night together sinks in. The night that started off ideally and ended in heartbreak as you woke up to an abandoned bed and a note scribbled with his apologies and his breakup speech. Your eyes scan the white linen sheets and the black blanket draped at the end of the bed, 

“So where should I expect to find the breakup letter this time? Perhaps the pillow?” You challenge taking a peek around the entire room, your eyes settling themselves on the wide window overlooking the city. A glimpse you have seen on many occasions, yet you can never get enough of how the city glows a brilliant gold hue at night. 

“I am sorry, I should never have done that.” He closes the door and launches the card to the table, 

“What part are you sorry about?”

“All of it. I regret leaving you, I gave up a three-year relationship without an explanation. I was– I was in a confusing place.” He begins to somewhat express his grounds for breaking your heart and dissolving a relationship that was meant to endure whatever the world threw at it. His sister had even chosen the colour she wanted to wear to your wedding.. in a joking, yet somewhat serious conversation.

“I needed space to breathe and I went about it the wrong way. I destroyed us and I want to fix it.”

“You want to fix it? You act as if you can just pour some glue on the relationship and fix it all.”

“I know it isn’t that simple.” He breathes while he takes a seat at the end of the bed, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to say.. I am sorry, I want you back." 

"We don’t always get what we want.” You shrug, your eyes moving back to the window, admiring the snow falling a little heavily than what it previously was. You turn back to look at him, “You left New York, went to London and went out as if nothing ever happened. You got away scot free… I had tabloids following me, I couldn’t leave my apartment because everyone wanted to know what happened to me and the ass of a musician I fell in love with." 

"Look, the pot is calling the kettle black.” He shakes his head, “I saw the pictures of you and that twat of a friend of yours, the one who you claim wasn’t anyone to worry about. I also saw the ones with that random guy.” He mutters in an ill-tempered tone, bringing up the pictures that surfaced when you were forced to go out with a group of friends to essentially ‘get over’ Harry and your broken heart. 

“Well damn, it isn’t like I dated them or slept with them. Those girls you were with the other week, which one did you leave at the hotel? Or did you just take her out and forget to call her?” You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes onto his, waiting for an answer. 

Never once did you see him looking miserable in any photos, he appeared to always be cheery and smiling, a clear indication he did not give a fuck about the relationship he destroyed with a small piece of paper and some scratchy handwriting. 

“Nothing happened, can we try again? I haven’t been sleeping, all I have been thinking about is how I fucked up something that too good for me.”

“Awww, poor baby, you can’t sleep. What a shame, try being the one that was actually dumped by fucking pen and paper.”

“I said I am sorry!” he raises his voice, “What more do you want from me? My blood? Hell, take it. Take whatever the hell you want, that will satisfy you.” He continues in a raised tone, his leg shaking as he continues to sit on the edge of a bed, an indication he is getting furious and is ready to explode with emotions. 

You unravel the scarf from your neck and place it down before sliding off your coat, allowing it to drape over the small desk. Harry stays staring at you, words no longer being a form of communication, nothing but intense emotions filling between the two of you, emotions that are luring you closer to his body, emotions entangling themselves within your thoughts of forgiving him.  

He opens his mouth talks but stops himself, thinking for a moment, “Love, I don’t know how to make it up to you. If you want to leave you can leave and I won’t bother you, but please think about giving me another chance.” His voice is soft and low, his fingers fidgeting with the buttons on his coat, “I um, I’m sorry, though, just know that.” He presses, his eyes finally lifting from his lap to view up at you before flickering down to his lap. You step closer to him and press your finger under his chin, forcing him to peer up at you. 

“You– you are the most obstinate, inconsiderate arsehole who broke my damn heart, and you don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I love you. Everything in me is telling me to walk out that door and leave you in here alone, but I can’t.” .. “I fell in love with you, and only you.” You continue slowly, making sure he understands each and every word, and to your surprise, he hangs onto each and every word that leaves your pink lips. 

“I love you–”

“I’m not finished.” You promptly cut him off, “Get on your knees.” You command. He immediately gets up and does what you ordered. You roll your eyes, sinking to your own knees, “I didn’t think you’d actually do that.” You chuckle, “Break my heart again, and I won’t let you back in.” You whisper, moving your body closer to his, 

“Can I speak?” He challenges with a small smirk. You nod, allowing him the time to talk.

“I love you.” He breathes, your lips driving themselves against his in an impulsive way. 

For a second he doesn’t kiss back, perhaps not sure on what to do… He takes greedy possession of the moment, enabling himself to entangle himself with your kiss, his hand pressing to your side, pulling you closer to him. He carefully pulls away, your lips separated by an inch as you both rest your foreheads against each other, your heart beating rapidly from the onslaught of possession felt. 

“So, there hasn’t been anyone else?” He softly challenges. You shake your head at him.

“Having someone after you would be like having wine after whisky.” You respond, “We can either spend this snow storm talking and reminiscing about how you fucked up, or we can catch up on lost time… between the sheets.” You gesture towards the bed, unable to control the raging sensations inside you that are ready to get themselves out. He doesn’t say another word, he stands to his feet, helping you up before engulfing you with another luscious, and passionate kiss.

List of my other Prompts found HERE