#we’re supposed to do it in pairs but I’m doing it alone bc there’s not enough ppl and I CANT GO AS FAST AS THEM

[chialattea]

me: omg I love lab work!! I love doing procedures🥰🥰 it’s so interesting and rewarding I wanna keep doing it forever!!🥺

me whenever I’m at the lab:

[teapartyprincess4two]

Carnal Desires- M. Sturniolo

pairing: girlfriend!reader x boyfriend!Matt

classification: smut

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, slight cursing, oral sex, established relationship, short, no use of y/n

inspiration: request, I put a big spin on this request lolol bc I’ve written car sex before and felt like we needed something different

summary: You join Matt and his family on a vacation, and get lost together while on a hike. Instead of freaking out, you two take advantage of the sudden alone time.

—

This vacation was supposed to be fun for you, full of laughter and adventures as you and Matt’s family explored the island and all it had to offer. You were looking forward to spending alone time with Matt in between the week’s packed schedule, maybe sneak in a session or two, but instead you were forced to share a room with Nick.

You love Nick and you wouldn’t mind sharing a room with him under any other circumstances, but all you wanted was quality time with your boyfriend. Mary Lou made the room arrangements, and although she knows you and Matt were having sex regularly, it wasn’t going to happen under her watch. So, instead of enjoying your time in paradise with your boyfriend, you’re being tortured and touch-starved.

Matt feels the same way every time he sees you wearing a bikini at the pool, a pair of shorts that hug you just right, or even when you’re eating and he watches your lips wrap around a fork. All he wants to do is drag you away and fuck you in the nearest secluded area, but he had to remind himself to keep his interactions with you family friendly.

This was going to be such a long trip to say the least.

—

“Watch your step, baby,” Matt instructs, pointing towards the rocks that litter the path ahead. You hated hiking, especially in the hot island sun, but the tour guide promised a waterfall at the end that you just couldn’t pass up. You offer Matt a kind smile, holding onto him for support as you trudge further and further up the mountain. His arm stiffens as he supports your weight, helping you push yourself up a large rock.

His eyes trail up your legs, the shorts you’re wearing riding up slightly and exposing your asscheek. All week he’s struggled to keep his hands off of you, especially with his family so close all the time. But they’re pretty far up the hiking trail, he wonders if he’ll have enough time to push you up against the rock, pull down your shorts, and finally fuck you.

He debates it for a while, chewing the inside of his lip to distract himself from the growing sensation in his pants, but he’s broken from his thoughts by your voice, “Matt c‘mon we’re gonna get lost out here!” You’re crouched at the edge of the rock, stretching an arm out for him which causes your top to fall forward just enough to expose the bikini you’re wearing underneath.

All he wants to do is rip it off and watch your tits bounce as you ride him. “I’m coming,” he grunts, taking a hold of your hand and using the other to push himself up. He’s sweaty and sunburnt, slowly becoming tired of this dumb hike. You can tell he’s becoming overwhelmed and annoyed, so you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Don’t be so grumpy,” you tease with a downturned smile, pecking his lips playfully. His jaw is clenched, trying to stretch his neck far enough for you to miss his mouth. Your lips fall on his jaw, feathering a few kisses down his neck teasingly. “C’mon baby, just a little smile,” you continue to tease, your breath tickling the skin of his neck.

A small chuckle finally escapes his mouth, his tough guy demeanor crumbling and being replaced with a playful expression. “Why are you so grumpy?” your tone is still cheery because, despite also being tired, you’re trying to remain positive.

“Because we’re lost,” he replies blankly, allowing his arms to snake around your waist until his arms rest comfortable on your ass. He squeezes your ass, massaging the skin shortly after. You see the opportunity for a corny remark and take it, “I’m not lost if I’m with you.”

This causes him to burst out in laughter, finally giving in and returning the kiss, “you’re so fucking corny.” You smile into the kiss, you knew exactly what to do to make him feel better.

“I can make you feel better,” you reply between kisses, allowing your lips to travel further down his jawline and neck. He hums in response, the suggestion immediately sending blood rushing to his dick. You take this as an invitation to go through with your actions, slowly kneeling in front of Matt until you’re facing his crotch.

He watches in shock and excitement as you wiggle into the ground and begin unbuckling his shorts. Were you really going to suck his dick in the middle of the dense jungle? What if someone else came through the hiking path? Or worse, what if his family emerged from the dense flora and caught you with his dick in your mouth? As frightening as the idea was, it was also exciting, and Matt never the type to turn down a blowjob.

He watches in awe as you pull his shorts down, palming his dick through the fabric of his boxers. You kiss his penis through the cloth, waiting for a reaction from Matt. “Don’t tease,” he groans, causing you to finally slowly pull his boxers down.

Once it’s free, Matt’s hard dick slaps against his stomach, precum already forming at the red, swollen tip. You take a firm grip of him, slowly pumping and placing a sloppy kiss on his tip. He tastes salty, his precum mixing with the sweat from having hiked for hours.

His jaw is slack and his eyes are scrunched as you finally wrap your mouth around his tip. You’d usually take your time and tease Matt until he was begging for you to do something, but you’re so hungry for him that you can’t help but deep throat him instantly. Matt’s tip hits the back of your throat, causing him to instinctively buck his hips into your mouth.

Strong hands take a hold of your hair, creating a make-shift ponytail to provide him with the leverage necessary to fuck your face. You’re gagging around his cock, his hips snapping into your face and his hands pushing your head back and forth. Tears brim at your eyes with each thrust, your hands holding onto Matt’s thighs both for support and in an attempt to slow his movements.

He’s unrelenting, though, forgetting entirely about your need for oxygen. You moan around him, cheeks hollowing tight enough to help push Matt past his breaking point. His eyes are training on you, watching in awe as bubbles of saliva drip down your chin.

“So. Fucking. Sexy,” he grunts with each thrust, pulling out completely with a loud pop. Matt pumps his cock from above your face, giving you enough time to catch your breath before you’re opening your mouth again for him. He groans at your willingness to please, placing his fat, heavy cock on your flat tongue.

You scoot closer to him eagerly, waiting for him to paint your tongue with his cum. “So beautiful and eager,” he murmurs, stroking his cock one last time before unloading his cum in your mouth. Some of it shoots out far enough to land on your face, engraving an image in Matt’s head that he’s sure to use later.

One of your fingers scoops up the stray cum that frosted tour face, popping the remnants in your mouth as you stare intently at Matt. You want him to remember this for the remainder of this trip, to think about you on your knees with his cum on your face. You want him to remember how well you took his cock and for images of you to flood his mind at night, forcing him to find you and fuck you in another secluded, undisclosed location.

Without another word, you kiss his tip and spring up from the floor. “I think they went this way,” you say, pointing in a random direction, but if you were being honest you lost track of the group long before you dropped to your knees. Matt watches you in confusion, how were you able to recover so easily while he still stood there with his cock out? He’s barely coming down from his high, but he pulls his pants up and follows you anyway.

Matt’s skeptical, not entirely trusting your sense of direction. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look like anyone’s gone that way… ever,” he replies, taking in his surroundings. You wave him off, pushing through highly forested terrain as you attempt to find the group again.

“I’m sure. We’ll be fine,” you dismiss, leading the way deeper into the jungle. Hopefully Matt remained in a good mood for the rest of the hike, if not you’d be forced to work your magic again.

—

At this point you don’t know which way is left and which is right, you’re just walking for the sake of moving. There are no trails in sight, but there are rocks at every twist and turn, and the sun is beginning to set. “I think we’re lost,” you finally admit, stopping abruptly in your tracks and doing a full 360 in an attempt to relocate yourself.

“You think?” Matt replies in a sarcastic tone, running an exasperated hand through his hair. You ignore his tone, chalking it up to the hike having worn him out. He was easily irritable, but you knew of a few ways to fix that.

“Well I hear water this way. That could be the waterfall?” you say, throwing a thumb behind you to signal that that’s where you hear the water coming from. Matt’s equally as lost as you are, but since you were the one leading the way it was easy to place the blame on you. “It could be, but what if it isn’t?” he retorts, raising his voice slightly.

“We’re already lost, Matt. What does it matter if it isn’t the waterfall?” you reply, mocking his voice slightly as you send him an annoyed look. You decide to just ignore him and begin walking towards the water instead of arguing in the middle of a deserted island, surrounded by dense vegetation and predators that were sure to wake when the sun set.

Matt throws his hands up in the air out of frustration as he follows behind you. If you were Chris or Nick he probably would’ve lashed out at you already, but he bites his tongue because he realizes that there’s no point in arguing. The only reason he’s responding so harshly is because he’s letting the situation and his pent up sexual frustration get the best of him.

The water gets louder the further you walk and the air becomes cooler. Finally, after pushing past vines and leaves, you see the roaring stream of water. Foam forms at the edge of the cliff where the water meets the ground, creating a large pool deep enough to swim in. It was such a beautiful sight, you couldn’t help but immediately throw your backpack to the ground and kick your shoes off.

“Told you it was the waterfall,” you say in excitement, suddenly feeling energetic again. You make swift work of your shirt, removing it before unbuckling your shorts. Matt’s equally as excited, tugging his shorts off as he watches you shimmy out of yours.

Your ass jiggles each time you pull at your shorts, finally revealing the bikini you wore underneath. Matt’s in his boxers, the fabric loose around his thighs but becoming tight around his crotch. He’s no longer frustrated with you, all he can think about is fucking you in the water, the water splashing each time he bucks into you.

His carnal, animalistic desires overrun his mind as images of you on the jungle floor with his cock balls deep in your mouth replay in his head. Matt joins you in the cool water, ready to have another adventure with you.

—

The sun has set and the moon has now replaced its position in the sky, shining down on you both while you effortlessly wade through the water. The pool is deep enough to reach your shoulders, but it reaches Matt’s lower chest. The loud, relentless waterfall makes it hard to hear Matt when he speaks so you’re forced to press your face against his to hear him.

“You look so sexy, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his face so close to yours that you can feel his stubble graze your cheek with each word. Matt’s hands pull you close to him from under the water, allowing your legs to wrap around his torso as he supports your weight. Your ass settles just above his crotch, inches away from his throbbing penis.

You hum in response, pulling your face away slightly to capture his lips in a kiss. Nature managed to provide you with the perfect ambiance, perfectly secluded from all civilization for the first time this week. “I missed you all week,” you whispered into the kiss, giving Matt the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He’s immediately moaning into the kiss, his tongue lapping in your sweet juices. He places two strong hands on your ass, pushing you down on his growing erection, eliciting a strained whimper from you. “Feel that?” he grunts, forehead flush with yours as he presses his crotch so hard on yours you can feel everything. His eyes are locked on yours, searching for a reaction.

Your core clenches instinctively at his words, you wish you could feel him. It seems like the waterfall becomes louder the more worked up you become, both of you blissfully unaware of the world around you. The stars are twinkling from above and the moon is shining directly on the pool of water you swim in, serving as a spotlight for the show you and Matt were about to put on.

His mouth is back on you, hungrily trailing kisses down the wet skin of your neck. He stops right above your collar bone, sucking and biting the skin until it’s purple. You’re gripping his hair and grinding down onto him, allowing the water to help you move effortlessly. All you want is to feel him closer after an entire week apart.

“Matt, just fuck me already,” you moan, becoming desperate for his touch. Usually he’d tease you and tell you to be patient, but even he was desperate for relief. He pulls you into another kiss, swiftly tugging his cock out of his boxers in the process. You try adjusting yourself over Matt, his fingers expertly moving your bikini to the side, causing you to squirm slightly as the fabric presses against your sensitive clit.

“Stay still,” he grumbles, aligning his cock with your entrance. You immediately do as you you’re told, eager to please and even more eager to feel him inside you. Without a second thought, his left hand is pushing you down on him and the right is keeping his cock in place. An immediate sigh of relief leaves Matt’s mouth once he bottoms out inside of you, adjusting himself so he’s able to support you from under your thighs. The sensation is euphoric, causing Matt’s knees to tremble as he tries to ground himself on the rocky floor beneath him.

Your legs are wrapped around Matt’s waist, using the position as leverage to begin bouncing up and down on his dick slowly. The momentum of your movements causes the water to push and pull around you, slapping against your chest with each thrust. “I missed this,” he moans, eyes squeezed tight as he tries to compose himself. The feeling is so pent up that he’s sure to bust in seconds, so he focuses on lasting long so he can make you feel good.

“I missed this too, baby. So much,” you reply, hanging on by Matt’s shoulders as you throw your head back in pleasure. You’re clenching around him, your pussy sucking him in deeper. Loud moans are coming from both of you, the waterfall swallowing them and washing them away.

Matt watches as your boobs bounce violently, threatening to spill out of your tight bikini top. It’s like they’re teasing him, willing him to pull the bikini off and toss it deep into the jungle. He yanks it down before he can stop himself, freeing your tits and immediately groaning at the sight.

You look so sexy on top of him, taking him like a champ and giving him a show while doing it. His hips rut into you quickly, balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Your tits press against his chest, sensitive nipples grazing against his skin.

He’s fucking you so hard and fast at this point that his dick slips out of you, slapping against your clit in the process. The sensation causes your legs to shake and your core to clench once again. “Fuck,” he whimpers at the loss of contact, taking a hold of his cock and rubbing it against your pussy.

Matt manages to slip back into your folds aggressively, pounding into you at the same relentless pace from before. This was the sloppiest sex you’d ever had with Matt, but after a week completely deprived of him you’d gladly welcome it.

You’re both soaked, somehow managing to float under the waterfall. The pressurized water rains down on you, the stream coming down on you so hard it unties your bikini causing it to float downstream. “Matt! My top,” you gasp, reaching for your bikini and pushing your boobs together in the process.

Matt groans at the sight, your pillowy breasts bouncing as he fucks you like it’s the first and last time. Your spongy walls push against his penis, causing a sensation that sends him past his breaking point.

“We’ll get it later,” he responds between grunts, snapping his hips into you one last time before unloading his cum inside you. Just because he’s no longer moving doesn’t mean you aren’t still bouncing on his dick, causing it to twitch from the sensitivity.

“Babe,” he chuckles, his body instinctively attempting to pull away as the overstimulation becomes too much. You ignore him, chasing your climax with each jump. All he can do is hold onto you firmly and use all his strength to prevent his knees from buckling.

Finally, you’re convulsing around his cock and moaning loudly as your orgasm washes over your body. The sight is beautiful, your wet hair stuck to your skin, and your eyes rolling so far to the back of your head that all Matt sees is white.

He feels a sense of pride in making you feel this good, he’s never seen you react this animated during sex before. The combination of the location, the stimulation from the water, and the pent up sexual frustration being enough to intensify your orgasm.

Matt pulls you off of him slowly, gently placing you back down on the rocky floor. He gives you a goofy, fucked out smile as he glances down at your bare chest. Your bikini top is floating down stream quickly, threatening to get lost in the wilderness with each passing second. Your arms are quick to wrap around your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like you weren’t just having the loudest sex ever.

“I’ll get it,” he chuckles, adjusting his boxers and swimming downstream effortlessly towards your top. You thank God for sending you such an observant and kind boyfriend, one who was willing to make you feel good and then take care of you afterwards.

Once he reaches it, he throws the bikini your way, causing water to splash in your face. Even though he was just balls deep in you, you find yourself turning your back to him while you put the bikini back on. He’s too busy swimming against the stream to notice though, the realization of how lost you truly were finally settling in.

For now, though, the two of you were content with a night under the stars away from prying eyes.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

🤰🏻

Me after writing this

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[loonylupinblack3]

Overprotective

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, suggestions of violence occurring (nothing actually happens just very brief suggestion)

Summary: Going to the club and getting drunk without your overprotective boyfriend is never a good idea

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: posting bc of max's win in china

Max had always been protective of you. Since as long as you can remember Max had acted like your protector, stopping you from doing risky things and helping you when you did them anyway and hurt yourself.

You were childhood best friends, having known each other since you were five and he was six, brought together by a love of karting. As time passed and the two of you grew up, your relationship stayed strong, but changed. Feelings grew between the two of you, though it took until you were 21 before you two did anything about it.

So you were used to Max’s slightly overprotective tendencies. It was second nature to you, as familiar to you as breathing. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t get on your nerves from time to time, like tonight for instance. You were supposed to be going out with your girlfriends to a newly opened club, but Max was having some trouble letting you go.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw you enter the living room from his seat on the couch, eyes roaming your body. You were wearing a cliche club outfit; short black dress, heels, and bangles on your arm. You could see the appreciativeness in Max’s gaze, but also concern.

“You look nice,” he said, putting his phone down.

You smiled and gave a little spin. “Thank you. It’s the dress I got on Tuesday.”

Max stayed silent for a moment, considering what to say. “You look very beautiful, Schatz, don’t get me wrong…. But is that what you’re wearing out?”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

Max hesitated again. “It’s just… it’s not very restaurant friendly.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth. You had wondered briefly why Max had been so calm about you going clubbing, but you’d brushed it off thinking he just didn’t mind it. Now you knew it was because he didn’t actually know.

“Well, Max, that’s because we’re going clubbing, not to a restaurant,” you say slowly, waiting with baited breath for his reaction.

Max blinked, surprised. “You’re what?”

“We’re going clubbing….”

Max opened his mouth then closed it, clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You thought I knew you were going clubbing? Even though I didn’t say anything about it? Or warn you about drinking too much?”

You grimaced. “I know how it sounds but I genuinely didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

Max sighed. “I know, I trust you. I just don’t know if going clubbing is a good idea.”

“But it’s already been decided. And I got dressed up.”

You pouted slightly and Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. Me and the girls have sorted everything out.”

Max started. “You mean it’s just going to be you girls alone? What about Izzy’s boyfriend Liam? Or Kate’s boyfriend? They’re not going?”

“It’s a girls night,” you reminded him. “No boys allowed.”

“Schatz….” Max warned. “I don’t feel comfortable letting you go to the club alone.”

“I’m not going to be alone-”

“You’ll be with a group of girls, all of you vulnerable and easy to prey on,” Max said sternly. “I’m not trying to be mean, but without a man around you there are certain people who will take that as an opportunity to try and hurt you.”

You sighed. “I know Max, but we’re fine. We know one of the bartenders and he’s promised to keep an eye out for us, plus Liam will be driving us home so we have a ride. Seriously, you don’t need to worry.”

Max frowned, looking at your face for any trace of doubt. “I always worry about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Max continued thinking before eventually conceding, walking up to you and wrapping you into a tight hug. “Be safe,” he murmured into your ear.

You returned the embrace. “I always am.”

You pulled back, still in Max’s arms, and he tugged down your dress with a slight scowl. “Too short.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye Max.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Max said, “and text me when you’re coming home.”

You nodded your head and hugged him goodbye once more before leaving the apartment and your boyfriend. You knew he was worried, knew he’d probably be worried for the rest of the night and wait up for you, which made you feel guilty. He hadn’t prepared for you to go out clubbing, completely different from a tame meal at some restaurant, and you knew he’d be agonising over it for the rest of the night.

All you could do was answer his texts and make sure he knew you were safe. 

Except things didn’t go to plan.

You arrived at the club and everything was fine. You looked around, taking pictures of the new place, and greeted your bartender friend. You ordered some drinks and stayed by the bar for a bit, talking and catching up, before one of your wilder friends, Lily, suggested shots and then dancing. You weren’t much of a shot person, mostly because you were a lightweight, and you hadn’t planned on getting too drunk tonight but everyone was egging you on, and you didn’t want to be left out so you agreed, the four of you slamming down tequila shots like you did in college.

Then it was off to the dance floor, you, Lily, Kate and Izzy forming your own circle, dancing and laughing with one another. And you were having fun. You were feeling happy, giddy, and the only thing that would make this night better would be to have Max by your side.

You stepped out of the dance circle, moving back to the bar as you took out your phone. Noticing the multiple texts from Max left unanswered you felt a pang of guilt, but it was distant compared to the excitement you felt.

y/n: maxieeeeeeee

maxie❤️: you okay?

y/n: im the bset y/n: i mss yoi y/n: u shoud come tothe club

maxie❤️: are you drunk??

y/n: jst a litttle bit

y/n: lily siad shots

maxie❤️: you did shots? are you okay?

y/n: im grate

y/n: u should cmoe hree

y/n: i wnna party wth yoou

maxie❤️: already on my way

If you were sober, you probably would have picked up on the annoyed/concerned tone Max’s text had, but you were not sober, so you texted him a ‘yaaaaayyyyy’ and turned your phone off, waiting for what you thought was going to be your party ready boyfriend.

Instead, after you’d had another shot with your friends and continued dancing, you found yourself face to face with your concerned and worried boyfriend.

“Maxie!” you slurred, throwing your arms around your boyfriend in a hug. “Come dance with me!”

Max chucked, trying not to show his concern, but his tight hold on your waist gave him away. You pulled back and looked at him. “You are going to dance with me, right?”

Max sighed, manoeuvring you so you were off the dance floor. You were almost too drunk to notice, just clinging onto your boyfriend. “I’m here to take you home.”

“But I don't want to go home. I’m happy here,” you whined like a child.

Max muttered under his breath, “did I or did I not tell you not to drink too much.”

You frowned at his bad attitude. “I just want to dance.”

He shot you a look. “You can dance at home where you're safe, not in a club full of strangers while drunk out of your mind.”

You pouted but your boyfriend had already made his decision, half dragging half carrying you to where he parked his car. You knew better than to fight Max when he was like this, even drunk, so you sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, glaring at the road ahead of you while silently cursing Max and his stupid overprotectiveness. 

Max glanced at you as he drove. “I can tell you’re upset with me.”

“I was having fun,” you complained, “and you took me away from it.”

Max sighed. “I’m sorry Schatz, I am, but I wasn’t comfortable letting you stay in a club full of strangers drunk without me.”

You pouted again. “So why didn’t you just stay at the club with me?”

Max laughed a bit. “Because I only enjoy clubs when I’m drunk, and the whole purpose of me being there would be watching you while you’re drunk, not the other way round.”

It made sense even to your drunk brain- sort of -so you dropped the subject, letting Max off the hook. Maybe you’d argue with him in the morning when you were sober and had a better grasp on reality, but as Max parked in your driveway and helped you out of the car, all you wanted to do was curl up with your boyfriend and go to sleep, which is exactly what you did.

Max helped you undress and got as much makeup off your face as he was able to with his limited skill set and then got you into bed, laying down beside you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest where you sighed into it, content.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair.

Even drunk and half asleep, you still managed to reply, “I love you too.

[katsu28]

to be alone together

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: steve has to work on valentine’s day, but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought it would be

warnings: none, 1.8k

a/n: u know i had to do a lil something for my steve girlies too <3 went for a more steve centric pov bc he is the definition of pining simp 

navigation

(gif credits to @harringtondaily)

“Kinda sucks that you gotta work tonight.” Robin’s voice through the phone pressed to Steve’s ear was staticky, but still provided a good distraction from the empty video store around him.

It was Valentine’s Day and Steve had been at Family Video since opening, watching couple after couple come in to pretty much clear the romcom shelves, and yeah, he was a little bummed about it, but there was no point moping around about it any longer than he already had been. 

“It’s whatever, honestly. Not like I had any plans to begin with.” He sighed, shifting the receiver so it was wedged between his cheek and shoulder as his fingers drifted down to fiddle with the pen on the counter absentmindedly. 

“Steve, that’s sad.” Robin replied. Steve wrinkled his nose, a slightly offended noise escaping the back of his throat. “No! I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you should be out and about, having a good time.” 

“You know what’s actually sad? You talking to me instead of paying attention to your date.” He shot back, only half serious. “Where’s Nance?” 

“Oh she’s right here. Say hi, Nance.” 

Steve heard a faint ‘hi Steve’ in the background and he returned the greeting. “What are you guys doing tonight?” 

“She made this really fancy pasta thing for dinner, we’re just waiting on the chicken to finish in the oven and I thought I’d see what was going on with you.” Robin sounded casual, but he knew this was her way of checking up on him since he was the only one on shift all day and she knew how he felt about today. 

“Rob, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, but I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“Why don’t you just close up early, come join us for dinner? We have more than enough food.” 

“You’re seriously inviting me to crash your romantic dinner date with your girlfriend?” He snorted, rolling his eyes playfully. “What does Nancy think of that?” 

There was some shuffling on the other end, a bout of silence, then Robin was back on the line. “She’s giving me a weird look, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t my best idea.” 

“I love you both, but you know I can’t.” 

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Steve’s attention away from his phone call and to whoever just walked in. 

Shit. It was you. 

You were dressed like you were supposed to be on your date, not here, hair and makeup done up all pretty, floaty dress in his favorite color swishing around your knees as you made your way into the store. It made him wonder if you chose that color on purpose, but he knew that you didn’t. You couldn’t have known you’d be seeing him tonight. Wishful thinking on his end though. 

“Rob, I gotta go,” He blurted, straightening up behind the counter. 

“Wait, what—” 

“I gotta go, she’s—someone’s here, I gotta help her.” 

“She? Oh my god, wait! Is it—” 

“Have a nice date, tell Nance I said bye!” With that, Steve hung up, slamming the receiver onto the base with enough force to send it skittering a few inches. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Steve!” Your previously downturned lips lifted into a smile, one that had Steve’s heart thudding a little faster in his chest. It always did. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.” 

See, you were also part of the reason he decided to take the extra shift today, but through no fault of your own. You’d mentioned earlier in the week while you were hanging out with him and Robin that someone had asked you out for tonight, and Steve didn’t really know how to feel about it. 

You were friends, but had Steve been harboring a crush on you since pretty much the first day you met? Yes. 

Did he feel an itching sense of jealousy that you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him? Also yes. 

Would he do anything about it? Probably not. 

Okay, so maybe he knew exactly how he felt about it. Hell, he’d picked up an extra shift to distract himself from it. 

“Yeah, I got called in last minute." A lie. "Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” A casual, not at all hoping that it crashed and burned question. That would be mean. (But also a little gratifying for him.)

You chuckled, a tad bitter as you leaned forward, propping your elbows on the counter, the action sending a whiff of your perfume his way. Steve’s knees almost gave out. “Supposed to, yeah. But the guy never showed up.” 

Steve had to fight a noise of surprise. What kind of dumbass would skip out on a date with you? “Really? That’s—that sucks, I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. Wasn’t really looking forward to it anyways.” 

“Oh?” 

“I didn’t really know him that well, honestly. He was a friend of a friend, asked me out in front of a bunch of people, and I didn’t really wanna turn him down and make it awkward.” 

“You’re way too nice, Y/N. And he’s an idiot for standing you up.” 

“Thanks, Steve.” You smiled warmly at him, patting his hand. Steve had to pretend his pulse wasn’t racing right now. “What about you? Why’re you here and not out with anyone?” 

“I, uh—I didn’t really feel like going out tonight. Don’t think I’d be a very good date anyways.”

“Oh, you’re just being modest. What girl wouldn’t wanna spend Valentine’s Day with Steve Harrington?” 

The one girl he wanted to spend this day with, he thought. You. 

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered. 

“Well then they’re idiots too.” 

A small smile quirked his lips. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, I just came to pick up some movies and spend the rest of my night shoveling down ice cream, but since we’re both here now and alone, d’you wanna…be alone together? Grab a bite to eat or do something?” 

Steve’s shoulders slumped defeatedly. “I’d love to, but I—I can’t. I gotta stay here til the end of my shift, Keith’s been on my ass about taking off early and as much as I hate the guy, I don’t wanna get fired.” 

“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m, uh—it’s cool.” Was he hallucinating, or did you look disappointed? 

“Would you maybe wanna, I dunno, stay here? We can watch whatever you want and I know where Robin keeps her work snack stash. That way we can be alone together and I don’t get chewed out again?” Steve blurted hopefully. He was honestly expecting you to say no. Why would you wanna spend the rest of your already shitty night with him in a dingy video store? But then your face split into the biggest smile and you nodded, rocking forward on the balls of your feet earnestly. “Go pick something out, I’ll grab the snacks.” 

You scurried off to browse the near bare shelves, leaving Steve shaking his head amusedly in your wake as he watched you skim the tapes with a look of utmost concentration. He slipped into the back room to grab Robin’s last unopened bag of chips, making a mental note to buy more before tomorrow’s shift before returning to the video area.

He skimmed the store, spotting you in the romcom section, and when he made his way over, you were contemplating the last two tapes on the shelf. 

You beamed at him upon spotting him. “Pretty in Pink or Sixteen Candles?” 

“Am I allowed to say neither?” 

“You said whatever I want, Steve.” You said pointedly, propping your hands on your hips. 

“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. You let out a hum of pleasure, sliding your chosen movie off the shelf and wandering towards the TV in the corner. Steve hurried after you quickly, plucking the tape from between your fingertips and running away, not unlike a child would. 

“Steve!” You huffed, whirling on your heel. He grinned mischievously at you, waving it in the air like a taunt. You caught up with him within seconds, lunging for the tape that he held up above his head and away from your outstretched hand. Your body was pressed against his as you reached for it, as you leaned against him in a fruitless attempt to overpower him. “Steve, gimme the tape!” 

“No!” He laughed, but that laughter very soon trickled off as soon as he realized your proximity. You were so close, he could see the color of your eyes clear as day, looking right back at him. You’d fallen quiet too, as if you’d come to the same realization. 

You were nose to nose, faces a hair’s breadth away from each other, the stolen tape in Steve’s hands long forgotten. Every fiber in his body was telling him to pull away, because the longer he stayed here the weirder it would be when he finally did manage to retreat, but no matter how hard he willed himself to move, he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes flicked down to your lips. Your breath hitched almost imperceptibly. 

“Steve?” You whispered, gaze darting around his own face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me.” 

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Steve dropped the tape immediately, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips against yours. His hands came up to cup your face, holding you firm but kissing you soft, like he was preparing himself to pull away if you did. But from the way you were returning his kiss, how your hands clutched at the front of his vest to keep him this close, it didn’t feel like you’d be pulling away anytime soon, and that spurred him on even more. 

One hand slid down to settle at your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a little bit. 

Steve’s lips felt tingly when he pulled away, tasted of your cherry lip gloss when his tongue darted out to lick them. He was sure to have a little bit on his mouth now, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not by a long shot. Cherry might’ve just become his new favorite flavor. 

“I really like you.” He breathed, chest heaving against yours. Your lips curved into a soft smile—the same smile that nearly sent Steve’s brain short circuiting every time it was aimed his way. 

“After that kiss, I’d sure hope so,” You replied, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt as best you could. “I like you too, just so you know. Part of the reason I was so okay with my date ditching me. He wasn’t you.” 

Steve could only beam at you, going in for another kiss. In his excitement, he missed his mark, hitting the corner of your mouth instead, but he didn’t care. The girl he wanted all along actually liked him back, and it only took one failed date and an extra shift to find out. 

Maybe working on Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

[wish-i-were-heather]

GOOD CHEMISTRY ⤵ XANDER HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 1685 words, no use of y/n

STORY: xander is assigned to be your lab partner for an assignment that neither of you really understand

WARNINGS: none!!

A/N: this is actually inspired by a real lab i did in my chem class bc my friend reminded me of xander. a lot of the dialogue is actual real dialogue we had lmao. so yeah fair warning that this isn't very well written just something i threw together for fun :) also i dont understand chemistry at all so sorry if anything's incorrect

“Alright, you may begin.”

You were standing alone in the corner of your science classroom. Your teacher said she was going to randomly assign partners for the lab. But there was an odd number of people, so you were left alone. 

You looked around a bit to make sure there wasn’t anyone else who didn’t have a lab partner before walking to the front of the class.

“Uh, Mrs. Watson?” You asked. She looked up from her computer with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes?”

You cleared your throat. “I don’t have a partner.”

She frowned, standing up from her desk and looking over the classroom. “Oh, that’s my mistake. We’re missing a student today, I marked that in attendance. I didn’t realize that when giving partners. My apologies.” She pointed at a pair working at the table in the back corner. “Can I ask you to go join-”

“I’m here!”

The door slammed open and hit the wall with a loud bang! Everyone’s heads turned, and the class went silent. But they all went back to their work when they saw who it was.

“You’re late, Mr. Hawthorne,” Mrs. Watson sighed. “Again.”

Xander’s backpack was slung hastily over one shoulder. He closed the classroom door and nodded. “Yup! Third time this week. But, in my defense-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” She pointed at you. “Your partner will tell you what we’re doing. Get to work.”

He nodded again, turning to you and offering a wide smile. 

“So… that empty table in the back?”

~~~

Five minutes later, you had everything set up. There were strangely colored chemicals in different tubes, and you were both wearing the aprons and goggles that you were required to.

You looked down and frowned. The aprons themselves were ugly, plus the goggles. You weren’t wearing them, and you really didn’t want to. Part of you wondered if getting burned by a chemical was all that bad after all.

But you kept it on.

With a sigh, you slipped on the goggles and looked up at Xander. He was finishing tying the back of his apron too, and for a moment you just watched him.

His dark hair was tousled, like he hadn’t had time to brush it that morning. You could see just beneath the atrocious apron that he was wearing, that the tie of his school uniform was loosely askew. His tongue was poking slightly out of his mouth in focus as he finished tying the back.

When he finished, Xander’s eyes wandered from the supplies on the table before meeting hours. But at first, neither of you said anything.

You decided to break the silence.

“Nice eyebrow.”

“Thanks,” He grinned. “Grew it myself.”

“And the other?” You asked.

“I was left unattended.”

“Figures.”

Xander motioned towards all the stuff on the table. Tubes, flasks, off-looking liquids. You didn’t know what you were supposed to be doing with any of it. You’d stayed up late writing an entire essay, so you were running on little sleep

Apparently, there was a reason you were given three weeks to write it instead of two hours. 

“So what are we doing?” He asked. 

“Honestly, I have zero idea,” you told him. “I wasn’t paying any attention.”

“Oh, well, I wasn’t here, so I couldn’t have been paying attention. This is kinda all on you.”

You stepped up to the table and picked up the instructions Mrs. Watson passed out that you hadn’t bothered to read. But reading them over, you realized you didn’t understand any of it.

“This is all, like, fancy chemistry stuff,” you said.

Xander took the paper from you. “Let me see that.” He looked it over for a minute, reading fairly quickly for the amount of small text that was on the paper. 

You studied his expression. “Should we ask for help?”

“No-” Xander snapped immediately. “She doesn’t like me.”

“I mean, you are always late.”

“But I am an excellent student!” He insisted as he put down the paper. “She just doesn’t know how to appreciate my gifts.”

“Did you gift her your eyebrow or something?” 

He stuck out his tongue at you. “Do you want me to help you finish this lab or not?”

“Fine, fine,” you said, unable to stop the corner of your lips from turning up. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“It’s simple, really,” Xander said, finally letting his tone drop to more serious as he turned to the table. “We’ve gotta take the pH measurements of each of the four liquids, and then mix them together to see if it’ll raise or lower the pH levels.”

You stared at him. “Huh?”

He sighed. “Just open your notebook. We have to hypothesize.”

You did what he said and opened your notebook. Rereading the instruction paper, it said you had to guess what happened when you mix hydrochloric acid and sodium hydroxide.

“Is that gonna raise or lower the pH, Xander?” You asked without looking up from your paper.

“Raise,” he answered. “More of a base.”

Silence fell between the two of you again as you finished writing your hypotheses. You were pretty sure that yours was absolute nonsense, but at least you had something written. 

“Okay, thanks,” you said. Xander took both your and his papers and set them aside. “I’m not necessarily bad at chemistry. I’m just a bit… scientifically challenged.”

“Is that so? That just means I get to teach you. How exciting”

“That’s only half terrifying coming from you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He shrugged. “So, let’s start before Mrs. Watson decides to get mad at me again.”

~~

You quickly learned that “scientifically challenged” was actually a lie. You were, in fact, very bad at chemistry. 

pH scales made no sense. Xander had to do all of the measuring, while you just wrote down whatever number and color he gave you. The first was red, the second was a blueish-purple, the third was yellow, and the last was a greenish-blue. You promptly forgot the names of all of them the moment after he’d read them to you, but it was fine. As long as you wrote down the data and got the work done.

Xander smiled at you again, the corners of his eyes wrinkling behind the big goggles. He put his hand up in the air. “High five?”

“We’re not done yet.”

“Okay, but we did the first part. HIgh five me.”

You gave in. 

“Alright,” Xander clapped his hands together. “Next step. Mix them together.”

You practically jumped up. “Oooh, can I pour it in?” 

“The erlenmeyer flask, yeah.”

“Who’s Meyer?”

He sighed and pointed at the empty flask in the middle of the table. “Pour them both in there.”

“Oh, okay, got it.” You reached for the first tube with a white liquid and poured it into the flask. You then did the same for the pink one next to it. “Can I drink this?” You joked as you poured it in.

“No, you may not.”

You poured them in quickly and waited. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who you asked, there was no big explosion. Xander stepped forward again and measured the pH. 

“Eight,” he explained. “They almost neutralize each other. Key word almost.”

You nodded and the both of you returned to your papers. “So,” you asked. “What do I write in this box?”

He stared at you. “The box that asks for the color?”

“Mhm.”

“You put the color.”

“So… pink?”

Xander rolled his eyes, but he had a smile on his face. “Are you doing this on purpose?” 

“Perhaps.” You got to write the word pink in the box that asked for the final color of the liquid, and then number seven for the pH number.

“Perhaps,” He teased under his breath, putting on a very bad British accent.

You looked up from your work. “Are you bullying me?”

Xander gasped. “No, of course not. I love British people. My brother is half British.”

“What?” You exclaimed. “Who? Which one?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter, we need to finish the lab.”

“I’m trying, but I don’t understand,” you sighed, deciding to ask him about his family lineage later.

“Have you ever seen Breaking Bad?”

You frowned, that was the most random question. “No.”

“Hm. You learn a lot about chemistry from it. I did.”

“I probably wouldn’t retain any of it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You’re right.”

You nodded and turned back to both of your papers to work on writing the conclusion, whether or not your hypothesis was correct. Then you realized what he’d just said- that you wouldn’t retain anything. 

“Wait, what?”

~~

The bell rang just as Xander handed you his paper, and you went to turn both of yours into the basket at the front of the class. “Thanks,” he said when you returned, slipping his backpack over his shoulder.

“Thank you, actually. I probably would’ve failed if you weren’t my partner.” You laughed. 

“Maybe this is your sign to actually pay attention.”

“Maybe this is your sign to show up on time.”

He shrugged. “Why would I do that? I kinda liked working with you.”

“Only kinda?” You teased.

“Sorry, I meant to say I’m obsessed with you and we have to do every single lab together for the rest of time or I will pass away,” Xander said, putting his hands on his chest dramatically. 

You rolled your eyes at him, just like he had before. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late for next period.”

“I’m always late,” he shrugged. 

You grabbed his wrist and began to walk towards the door. You were the last ones in the class, even the teacher was in a different teacher’s room talking to them. “Yeah, I’m trying to fix that. Let’s go.”

“We don’t even have the same next period.”

“I don’t care, we’re leaving now,” you insisted. Xander sighed reluctantly.

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered sarcastically.

But that grin never left his face.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

TAGS: (honestly im just gonna keep them down here because it makes the top part look more clean) @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl

@emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @maybxlle

@xoxo-vee @elysianwayy77 @midiosaamor @sheisntyou - lmk if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist!!

[oureuphoria]

The Battle — JJK

⟿ Note: Hiii!! I know it’s been forever since I’ve posted on this account, and I am very sorry! I’m in uni now and my writing has improved (in my opinion) drastically, so I’m very excited to return bc I love posting here. To kick off the new era, I’m sharing a small fic I’ve worked on recently. I really hope you like it.

⟿ Synopsis: Your relationship with Jungkook has been strained for far too long and you’ve decided to do something about it.

⟿ Genre: Just angst, sorry </3 but possible part two!!

⟿ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Reader

⟿ Word count: 1,387

“Jungkook.” You called out to your boyfriend the second you heard the door to his apartment open. You were supposed to hang out together, you’d been waiting for him for over 40 minutes.

“Yes, babe?” From his sing-song voice, you could tell he was tipsy.

“We need to talk.” You were aiming for a serious, sobering tone, but it appeared nothing could dull his vibe when he got it going,

“‘Course, love. Not now though, I’m busy. Just getting changed and heading out with the boys.”

“But you said we’d have tonight together.”

“I know baby, but we always celebrate big wins together. You know you’re welcome to join us.” Jungkook knew very well that you were still really nervous around his bandmates. You specifically asked for some time alone.

“But we need to talk and it can’t wait.” Your voice was unwavering, but you could feel the resolve you’d spent so long building up begin to slip away.

It was hard to fight with Jungkook. It was harder when he didn’t fight with you.

“What? Are you okay?” His voice resonated throughout the apartment from your bedroom to where you were sitting in the living room.

“No, Jungkook. I’m not.” There was a moment of silence.

“What’s wrong, are you sick?” His head peaked out from the room, harbouring slight concern on his otherwise bright face.

“No, it’s about us.” You averted eye contact, unable to watch the happiness drain from his face.

“That can wait.” He went back into the room, and you could feel your frustration return.

“I’ve been waiting, but you’re always busy and I can’t wait anymore.”

“Can I not have one night? One night where you’re not on my ass about everything?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Y/N, we fight every week.”

“And I want to talk about it.” He came out of the room, fully dressed in his favourite jeans and a tight black turtleneck sweater. A month ago, this would’ve been the part where you joked about him looking like that one picture of The Rock. Now it just made you wonder how many people would throw themselves at him, and just how many he’d reject before he’d finally realise you might not be worth the trouble.

“No, see you say you want to talk and then it turns into you making me feel like shit for living my life.” Jungkook continued arguing with you while pacing around the apartment looking for his keys, his wallet, his sunglasses.

“That’s not my intention.” You stood up from your seat on the couch, but he continued to avoid looking at you.

“Your intention doesn’t matter, your actions do. And right now, I’d really love it if you didn’t start a fight.”

“Fine, if that’s what you really want.”

“Great. I’ll see you later.”

You sighed. “You won’t.”

“Stop with the dramatics, Y/N.”

“No dramatics, I’m done. We’re done.” You weren’t sure how you managed to get the words out, considering the fact that they felt like shards of glass dragging across your tongue.

“Seriously?” He looked at you, one hand on the door knob, the other by his side.

You thought about taking it back for way too long, and when you said nothing, he shook his head, letting out a sardonic chuckle.

“Alright, Y/N. We’re done.” And with those parting words, he was out the door.

You sat back down on his couch. Tears were flooding your eyes, and you could feel the pressure on your chest, affirming the end you saw coming but tried so hard to avoid.

You could have continued begging for a morsel of his time to work things out, but as he said, he viewed any and all criticism as an infringement on his right to party and celebrate his success.

You were the same age, but you lived vastly different lives and you had no idea how to reconcile the gap between the Jungkook who loved you, and the Jungkook who was in the public eye. There was only one you. You didn’t have a second life, and that was what made it so hard to relate to him.

He didn’t even want to try.

You wiped away your tears, grabbing your coat and bag from the armchair. You had one arm through the sleeves when the door opened again.

For the split second that you heard the keypad beep and the door’s hinges creak, you allowed yourself to be filled with hope. He came back, and in that moment you let yourself believe that it was for you. That he’d tell you he can’t live without you, and whatever there was going on between you two, he’d be willing to fix it.

But you and him hadn’t felt partners in so long, and the problems you used to tackle together, as an inseparable unit, began to feel like termites eating through the foundation of your trust.

“Oh, you’re still here.” His voice didn’t sound remorseful. It didn’t sound like the voice of a man who was prepared to lay the ugliest parts of your relationship bare so that you could work through them. He sounded indifferent.

“Yeah sorry, I was just leaving.” You quickly shrugged the coat on properly, grabbing your bag and hastily rushing toward the door, but Jungkook was blocking the doorway, and he didn’t move away when you approached. “Um, Jungkook, you’re kind of in the way.” You tried your absolute hardest to keep your voice level and your tears at bay, but the longer he stood there the harder it was.

“I am, aren’t I?” His tone was so hard to read, you had no idea how to respond. “I’m always in your way, Y/N. And a better man would let you go, but I can’t.”

Before you could grasp onto his words, he grasped onto you. Jungkook wrapped you into a tight hug.

“Don’t do this, Jungkook. Please.”

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N. I feel so guilty, all the time. I don’t know how it fix it, so I go out, and I get wasted and I convince myself you’re happier without me.” He sounded so vulnerable, so bare, and for a moment you saw your pain reflected in his.

How could you fix it? There was only so much turbulence a relationship could take, and the strain on your own mental health was beginning to feel like less of a side-effect and more like a direct bi-product.

Sometimes, the best way to get rid of termites is to burn it all down and pray you have the strength to rebuild.

You weren’t sure of much, but you were sure that you weren’t strong enough to rebuild.

“I’m not happier without you, Jungkook. But lately I haven’t been feeling happier with you either. I love you, you know that, but I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t hurt me when you pretend I don’t exist. And I know the only other option is to go public, but I don’t think I could cope with that kind of attention.”

“I could say I’m in a relationship and we could keep your identity secret. I’ve seen other idols do that.”

“Idols much less famous than you, Jungkook. Its unfair of me to expect you to carry the burden of the negative attention you’d inevitably get.”

“What are you saying?”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. And I can’t watch as we tear ourselves apart trying to make each other feel better.”

“Y/N, I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“Me neither, but I think we have a much better chance of figuring out how to live apart than together, don’t you?”

“I— I could take a break from the group until we figure this out.”

“You’d resent me for it.”

“You can’t give up on us just like that?”

“You gave up a long time ago, Jungkook.” There was no hostility in your voice, so Jungkook knew you weren’t trying to hurt him with that remark. In fact, the sincerity of what you’d said, and the tears that began to flood your eyes and his, told him you might just be right.

So, without another word, Jungkook moved out of the doorway and watched as you gave him a tight-lipped smile before walking away.

[ladydigianna]

Oooooooooh are you doing requests?? Bc I’m just DYING to read a forbidden love trope with hort from school of good and evil 🖤he’s so bbg wet cat looking freak (affectionate)

from the author: omg hello !! yes i am !! as soon as i saw it i knew i just had to write it so here you are i hope you enjoy this anon !!

secrets in the shadows || hort x tedros’ sister reader

notes: my first request hehe

pairings: hort x ever!reader

genre: forbidden love

type: oneshot

-fic under the cut-

You sat at the window of your dorm in the School for Good, staring out at the lush landscape of Gavaldon in the distance. The flickering lanterns of the castle illuminated the night sky, and for a moment, it all seemed so peaceful. But inside, your mind was swirling with chaos.

Being Tedros’ sister came with responsibilities, especially being an Ever. You were expected to embody perfection, grace, and loyalty to the School for Good. But your heart was far more complicated than that.

You were in love with Hort.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He was a Never, a boy from the shadows, the antithesis of everything Good stood for. Your relationship was a secret—hidden glances during classes, stolen moments in dark corridors, and whispered conversations in the dead of night. But recently, it wasn’t enough for Hort.

You remembered the fight, the one that tore a crack in your heart.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Hort had said, his voice strained as he paced back and forth in the woods just beyond the school. “I’m tired of hiding, Y/N.”

You looked at him, your arms crossed defensively. “Hort, you know why we have to. If anyone finds out, it could ruin everything.”

“Ruin what?” he snapped, turning to face you, his green eyes blazing with frustration. “All we have are a few moments here and there. We’re practically invisible. What are we even protecting?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of your crown pressing down on you. “I’m protecting my family—Tedros, the kingdom. If they find out I’m with a Never…”

Hort’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. “So, I’m just some dirty secret to you?”

“That’s not fair, Hort,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. “You know it’s more than that.”

“Then why don’t you want to tell anyone? Why are you ashamed of me?” His words cut through you like a blade, sharp and painful.

“I’m not ashamed,” you choked out. “I’m scared.”

He shook his head, his expression hardening. “Fine. If you’re too scared to be with me out in the open, maybe we shouldn’t be together at all.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you alone with your guilt and your fear.

For weeks, things were cold between you two. Hort avoided you in the halls, and when your eyes met during lunch, he’d look away, as if the sight of you pained him. You tried to bury yourself in your studies, but nothing could distract you from the ache in your chest.

Tedros noticed something was off but didn’t pry. Beatrix, always nosy, gave you concerned looks, while Sophie and Agatha were too caught up in their own drama to notice. But you missed Hort—his sarcastic comments, his ridiculous smirk, the way he could make you laugh even on the worst days.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to fix things.

One night, when the moon was high in the sky, you found Hort sitting by the lake near the School for Evil, staring at the reflection of the castle in the water. He didn’t look up when you approached.

“Hort,” you said softly, stepping closer. He remained silent.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’ve been so focused on what I’m afraid of that I forgot what matters most.”

He glanced up at you, his expression guarded but hopeful. “And what’s that?”

“You,” you said, kneeling beside him. “I love you, Hort. And I don’t want to lose you.”

His eyes softened, the hurt still there but fading. “Then why are we hiding?”

“I was scared of what my family would think. Of what the others would say,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I realized that none of that matters. If I lose you because of my fear, then I’ve already lost everything.”

Hort looked at you for a long moment, then sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “So, what now?”

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “We go public. Together.”

The next morning, you and Hort stood just outside the dining hall, your heart pounding as you laced your fingers together. You could already hear the chatter of students inside, oblivious to the storm about to hit.

“Ready?” Hort asked, his voice steady despite the uncertainty in his eyes.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Ready.”

With that, you pushed open the doors, stepping into the bustling dining hall hand in hand. At first, no one noticed—students were too caught up in their conversations and breakfast. But then, the whispers started, spreading like wildfire across the room.

Beatrix was the first to react, her mouth dropping open in shock. “What—?”

Agatha and Sophie exchanged a look, their eyes wide with surprise. Anadil, Dot, and Hester, who had been sitting together, stared in disbelief, Hester’s brow furrowed in confusion while Dot’s eyes lit up with curiosity.

But the most intense reaction came from Tedros. He stood up so fast that his chair clattered to the floor, his blue eyes blazing as he stormed over to you.

“What is this?” he demanded, his gaze shifting between you and Hort. “You’re with him?”

You swallowed, standing your ground. “Yes, I am.”

Tedros stared at you, as if struggling to process your words. “But he’s a Never.”

“I know,” you said, lifting your chin. “And I love him.”

The dining hall went silent, all eyes on you and Hort. Tedros looked torn between anger and confusion, but after a moment, he let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he muttered, though he clearly wasn’t thrilled. “Just…don’t expect me to like it.”

Hort smirked, giving Tedros a mock salute. “Wouldn’t dream of it, mate.”

Agatha nudged Sophie, who was still staring in disbelief. “Looks like love really is unpredictable,” she whispered, earning a glare from Sophie.

You turned to Hort, squeezing his hand as relief washed over you. The hardest part was over, and now, you were free to be together—no more hiding, no more secrets.

And as you and Hort sat down, hand in hand, you realized that nothing else mattered as long as you had each other.

[vwritesaus]

TSC WIP snippets pt. 2

pt. 1

as promised, here's pt. 2 of some more snippets from my wips—this time, from dear christopher and timeless!!! what i failed to mention in my last post is that yes, while i'm still writing, those chances to do so are few and far between bc work has seriously been kicking me in the arse :)

this is another long post, so all the goods hopefully are under the cut! hope you enjoy and please know that i appreciate your patience so much ♡

dear christopher

ch2:

      ‘Be quiet, the pair of you,’ Thomas hisses weakly. ‘You’re ridiculous—’       ‘But to be fair, Jamie, they need to be engaged first,’ Matthew tells his parabatai conversationally, as if he hasn’t just interrupted Thomas. ‘In which I fear Alastair will be the one to propose first lest our darling Thomas stammers himself into oblivion and hides behind a lady’s brise fan to save face!’       ‘That’s oddly specific, Math… and yet I can see it happening just as you describe,’ James muses while rubbing at his chin. ‘Alastair is sensible enough and good at keeping a neutral expression—and he’ll be able to keep calm should Thomas start crying in pure joy.’       ‘You’re awful!’ Thomas exclaims. He’s now utterly certain his face no longer resembles an apple, but rather a beetroot. ‘Both of you—absolutely awful!’       Undeterred by the insults, Matthew gazes seriously at Thomas.‘I’ll be honest with you, Tom,’ he says. ‘It still baffles me how the whole situation between you two occurred, but… oh, you silly sod, I’m happy for you.’       Thomas smiles shyly. ‘Thank you.’       ‘Even Alastair?’ James pipes up.       Matthew scowls, though there is no heat behind it. ‘Yes, yes, even Carstairs,’ he moans, ‘the little bastard.’       ‘Hang on, easy,’ James says, ‘that’s Thomas’s future husband you’re slandering.’       ‘James!’ Thomas protests. ‘Stop it!’       ‘I shan’t, because the thought alone makes you happy, doesn’t it? And besides,’ James adds in a murmur, ‘we could all do with some happiness.’

ch3:

      ‘Whoever decides to be the owner of your heart, Thomas,’ Eugenia whispers, her tone serious, ‘I hope they’ll make you the happiest man alive.’       ‘A wish I also hold for you,’ Thomas tells her earnestly, ‘and not of the likes as those of Augustus bloody Pounceby. You deserve better.’       ‘Augustus was a moment of weakness. I know better than to seek out rats like him,’ Eugenia says heatedly, and then sighs. ‘I never thought he’d do such a thing—but then, I suppose, I have been wrong before. I should have seen it coming, really.’       ‘None of that was your fault, Genia. Don’t ever think that. He’s a smarmy little so-and-so with an ego, and if he ever comes within five feet of you, I’ll do what James did and throw him into the Thames.’       Despite the serious mood, Eugenia cackles heartily.       ‘I don’t doubt that in the slightest, Tom.’ She sniffs loudly and adds with utmost seriousness, ‘But you needn’t worry, for I will not step out with another man for as long as I shall live. I’ll cater to my many cats once I acquire them, and will bother you and your beau until we’re all old and grey.’ ...       ‘Tell me, mijo,’ Gideon starts. ‘How are you?’       Thomas cannot help the soft snort that leaves him.       ‘Dear Papa, I hope this is not an attempt at small talk,’ he says cheekily. ‘You do know how I cannot partake in it, nor can you.’       Gideon laughs and shakes his head. ‘Not as such. I would say it’s more of an initiation into a deeper topic of conversation.’

ch4:

      ‘Thomas,’ she gasps. ‘Bach, I need Gabriel. I need—please—’       He doesn’t hesitate, getting to his feet in a rather ungainly fashion, and launches himself at the door frame. He yells for his uncle, propriety be damned, and doesn’t stop until he hears hurrying footsteps coming up the stairs.       Gabriel flies into the room not even a minute later, his hair a mess and his eyes round in concern. His gaze glides to Thomas, alight with confusion, and Thomas merely glances over at Cecily by way of an explanation. It seems to be enough for he hears his uncle suck in a sharp breath and the softest rendition of his wife’s name passes his lips.       At the sound, Cecily turns her head, and chokes back a sob when she sees her husband. She holds her arms out to him beseechingly, begging to be held, and her cheeks are streaked with fast-falling tears.       ‘Gabriel… cariad—’       The rest of the sentence is pure Welsh, too fast and broken and indistinct for Thomas to understand a single phrase.

ch5:

      ‘Has anyone told you that you are perhaps a little too kind?’       ‘Only every third day,’ Thomas jests dryly, and Grace’s lips curve upwards a touch at that. His voice turns serious then, quiet, contemplative. ‘Look, I’m not here to fight, and I don’t want to fight. I’m not here to forgive you, either. That’s not my place. But today we remember Christopher. We… we tell him goodbye, and we do that together.’       There’s a moment’s pause in which they simply look at each other. Wind blows between them, ruffling the edges of Thomas’s coat and the hem of Grace’s dress. Smoke continues to curl from the stubby remains of the pyre, wispy and faint, like the aftermath of one of Christopher’s former explosions.       ‘Together…’ Grace echoes softly.       A single tear rolls down her cheek. She makes no move to wipe it away, much to Thomas’s surprise. After a second, Grace draws in a shuddering breath and lets it out slowly.       ‘Thank you for the invitation,’ she says politely—a picture-perfect image of a well brought-up young lady; a very small piece of Thomas pangs in sympathy at that thought. ‘I accept it… for Christopher.’       Thomas nods. ‘For Christopher,’ he agrees.

timeless

ch2:

      ‘He’s… attractive, sure,’ she finishes lamely, ‘but to be fair, I don’t even know him!’       Alastair tacks on immediately. ‘Just attractive?’       Hating the evil edge to his smirk, Cordelia scowls. Prick!       She sniffs. Two can play at that game.       ‘What do you want me to say?’ Raising her voice to a higher, mocking pitch, she cries, ‘“Oh my god, he’s sooo hot, I wanna throw him against the wall and have my way with him”?’       Alastair’s face twists in displeasure. ‘Ew, no.’       ‘Then what?’       ‘All I’m saying is people have gone straight to Base Two without exchanging names,’ he declares matter-of-factly. ‘So you not even knowing him is a rather redundant argument you’re making for your defence.’       Cordelia gawks at him. ‘What, are you saying you and Charles…?’       ‘Absolutely not,’ Alastair rebuts. ‘I learnt his name first. I’m just saying that it happens. Therefore…’       He waves his hand in a way that says, rather bluntly, my previous statement still applies. …       ‘He’s so funny,’ Cordelia says through a chuckle. ‘He was funny when I met him in person, too.’       ‘He can be, yeah,’ Lucie agrees with a good roll of her eyes. ‘But good god, he can be a moody, surly bastard sometimes. I’m telling you, Daisy, you’re lucky you’ve met him now. You did not want to know him two years ago.’       Cordelia’s expression turns startled. ‘Oh? Why do you say that?’       Lucie opens her mouth to answer but then quickly closes it. It’s not exactly her story to tell, let alone to someone James has only properly met once. But it’s not as though it’s a state secret… Everyone knows what happened and who James had been on the wrong side of sixteen… but even so…       ‘You don’t have to tell me why,’ Cordelia says, drawing Lucie out of her own head.        Clearly the conflict is bright as day on Lucie’s face.       ‘No, it’s alright.’ Chewing on her bottom lip for a second, Lucie sighs and reveals in a low voice, ‘I won’t go into too much detail, but James had his heart broken really badly in high school. After that, he had a nasty streak. He went wild, and none of us knew what to do. It got so bad even Matthew threatened to stop being friends with him if he didn’t get his shit together, and they’ve been friends since we were all kids.’       ‘Oh, my god?’       ‘Hm… though to be fair, Matthew wasn’t much better. He kept getting into trouble with the teachers because of this and that. But in a way, I’m grateful to them both.’ She reaches across the table and grips Cordelia’s hand tightly. ‘Because if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have had the need to bury my nose in my books or the internet to take a mental break, and I certainly would not have gotten the chance to meet you.’ …       Matthew purses his lips at the less than courteous message, thinking of all the possible responses he can send to preserve his honour so James doesn’t have to, as he has done many times before. But they all fly out of his head when both of Mina’s hands land on his calf with a loud smack. She smiles gummily up at him, and his heart melts at the sight.       ‘Does Mina wanna go on an adventure?’ he asks her, already picking her up and pressing her close to his chest. His phone lays forgotten on the floor. ‘But how shall we get there? Hmm… Oh! I know. Are you ready?’       Mina blinks and then raucous, contagious giggles escape her as Matthew—holding her by her middle with both hands—directs her through the air as if she’s an aeroplane while making engine noises. Somewhere behind him, James laughs wholeheartedly and cries, ‘Up and away we go!’ The three of them fly through the Herondale-Carstairs household, James and Matthew providing commentary on all the fascinating sights to Pilot Mina, and Mina’s giggles become louder and louder.       Mediocre dates, be damned.

tagging people who might be interested: @drunkonimagination @astriefer @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone @cant-think-of-anything @alastaircarstairsismybff @what-ho-christopher-put-in

let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

[softxsuki]

hi!!! can I put in a request for the Valentine’s day Letter Event? I would like it to be with Pro Hero! Bakugo, where it’s platonic bc i’m lonely on Valentine’s day :( but we’re really close and he always calls me baby. I would like it to be comforting bc i’m always worried im never gonna find anyone for me, and I want Bakugo to reassure me that it’ll happen one day. Location: we are roommates and he left the letter for me before he went to work. Other info: he’s 23 and i’m 21 and always rant to him about not having anyone to love or to love me and it makes me sad, and he knows this so he just tries to be there for me. Thank you so much!! <3

Bakugou's Platonic Letter To His Roommate

Valentine's Day Letter Event pt.2 (CLOSED)

Pairing: Bakugou x Gn!Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: feeling lonely (mood)

Genre: comfort

Post-Type: Letter

Word Count: 510

Summary: In which your roommate and friend, Bakugou leaves you an encouraging letter for valentine's day so you don't feel lonely

[A/N: I love writing for Bakugou, so this was fun! I hope you enjoy it. From one lonely person to the next, you're definitely not alone. We're all out here lonely, looking for comfort from out fav anime characters. Love that for us. <3]

Oh Valentine’s Day–A day that’s supposed to be full of love and positive vibes from the people around you who love you, yet here you were, very much single.

You envied the people around you who had a love life and someone to expect things from on Valentine’s Day. Was it too much to ask for just someone to hug and call your own on this day? Yet you had no one.

Or so you thought.

You were surprised to see a letter hung on the front door as you were about to leave, addressed to you. It could be from no one other than your roommate and close friend, Bakugou–also known as Pro Hero Dynamight.

You grab the letter and start to read it;

Y/N,

I’m only writing you this stupid letter because I know you’ll probably wake up feeling sad today, well not on my watch. Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. And no I’m not about to confess to you or anything gross like that, you’re like a younger sibling to me.

Anyway, I know how badly you want to find a partner in life. Someone you can call your own and have to celebrate on days like these. You tell me any chance you get how lonely you are and how desperate you are to find someone in your life. I get it. Life can get lonely, but you’ll find someone eventually.

The right person is out there looking for you as well, you just have to be patient and wait for them to appear. And I hope you know that whoever you meet has to go through me. If they can’t handle me then they can’t handle anyone.

In the meantime though, I’ll be here for you. I hope you appreciate that, I don’t go around saying that to everyone. I’ll bring you back some flowers…gosh I’m going to regret saying that after reading all the headlines of love scandals. Jeez, the things I do for you.

Keep your head up, and look forward to the Valentine’s Day you’ll have one day with the right person by your side. That day will come, I promise.

Alright, I’ll see you tonight. I’m on patrol duty until late, but I’ll stop by and get us some dinner too, so don’t cook.

Love,

Katsuki

The guy was a total brute at times, and wasn’t afraid to say what was on his mind, especially if you annoyed him, but you were grateful to have him. Especially on a day like today. He’s always lent you his ear even if it looked like he wasn’t actually listening, he listened to every complaint you had.

Every word you’d ever uttered to him was important and he just proved that.

Maybe this wasn’t your time to have a partner, but there was still a whole year ahead of you with many possibilities.

You’d definitely have to thank Bakugou when he came home. Without his letter you would have been miserable all day. At least now you had something to look forward to; flowers and free dinner :D

REGULAR REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

EVENT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Posted: 2/14/2023

[dolce-peach]

soft and honeyed

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: you and obi-wan are frequent battle partners during the clone wars. after a battle, the two of you head back to the jedi temple for some much needed rest -- and a much needed bath.

warnings: just obi being soft, implied nudity but nothing too graphic sorry

a/n: my obi-wan obsession has resurfaced 😆 pls enjoy this lil blurb of fluff and comfort bc THE MAN NEEDS IT 🥺😭 also feel free to leave some requests if you want, as i'm literally drowning in my obi feels LMAO 🥲

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire @just-another-loki-fangirl

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

You sat down heavily in your seat, a sigh surfacing as you sank into the mostly unforgiving cushion, but to you, it was the most comfort you had in weeks. Feeling the cool air of the cruiser’s interior as it sped through cold space, you quickly realized you were so used to the planet's rather warm and humid atmosphere.

A familiar presence settled in the seat beside you. Obi-Wan. You glanced over to see his eyes closed with exhaustion.

He was a determined fighter, often pushing his energy past the limit. It was often your job to make sure he didn’t overwork himself, but you didn’t mind. Something about you mothering him was like therapy for you.

“Get some rest,” he said, his eyes still closed.

You smiled, fixing your gaze on the grey ceiling. “Watching you rest is good enough for me. Besides, I don’t sleep well in space.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll sleep for days when we get back to the temple.”

“That’s if we’re not shipped off somewhere else,” you lamented. “Do you think home has changed?”

You could almost feel his brow furrow. “Changed? In the course of a few weeks?” he said. “I doubt it. Home could actually do with some change. I bet they still haven’t fixed the flood in the ladies’ bathroom.”

Groaning, you elbowed him. “All I want is a bath. If it’s still flooded, I’m blaming you.”

It was light banter like this that got you through those weeks, and even the battles before that. It seemed like only yesterday the two of you were made Jedi knights and quickly charged head on into a war no one was ready for.

Not that you weren’t ready. You had been ready to face the trials for a while, but because nearly the entirety of the Jedi Temple seemed to be recruited, you felt unsteady suddenly being knighted. You were sure Obi-Wan felt the same, defeating a Sith lord and then being burdened with the responsibility of a Padawan.

The two of you heavily relied on each other to watch each other’s backs, and keep each other sane. Being engulfed in battles all the time was enough to make your head spin. The sound of blasters that always seemed to frighten you became white noise.

When you finally arrived back at the temple to debrief with the Council, you felt yourself relax a little as you walked through the halls. But at the thought of standing in a meeting room for at least an hour, you sighed.

The work was never done.

“Do we have to go see the Council?” you rhetorically asked grumpily. “Can’t we just meet tomorrow?”

Obi-Wan gave you a nod. “You can go wash up. I’ll give the report.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

He sighed. “Well, you did save my life at the end there...again.”

“I suppose I did,” you laughed. “That makes five, I believe.”

Rubbing his beard in thought, he smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “Right. Five.”

You flashed a wide grin. “Well...if you insist on debriefing with the Council alone, then I guess I’ll get a head start on some much needed rest.” You playfully saluted. “See you around, General.”

The Jedi master nodded, his funny crooked grin appearing through his beard as he echoed the greeting. “General.”

Excitement filled you as you sped through the halls to your room to gather some things for a bath. It was a silly thing to be thrilled over, but if there was one thing you learned, take advantage of the tiny joys while you can.

And you knew you were going to enjoy it.

Humming while you practically skipped to the communal bathroom, you stopped dead in your tracks as you felt still water beneath your bare feet. You lifted your gaze to see the sunlight falling through the windows, reflecting on the water that covered the large tub and the floor surrounding it.

You could almost hear Obi-Wan’s laughter as you stood there, frozen and dejected.

You made a mental note to strangle him later.

With another heavy sigh, you walked out across the hall to the men’s room, fuming. You couldn’t care less if anyone was in the room. To your pleasant surprise, there wasn’t a single soul.

It wasn’t long before you filled the tub with scalding water and plenty of bubbles.

Sinking into the bath was by far the best feeling in your life. You wasted no time scrubbing layers of dirt and grime from your skin before you closed your eyes and lay in the tub, letting the steam fog the air.

“So I take it the other room’s still flooded.”

As you opened your eyes, Obi-Wan stood above you. “You and I both know that I desperately need this bath.” You crinkled your nose in annoyance. “Don’t forget, I still blame you.”

“Oh, I know,” he mused.

To your surprise, he began to undo his belt before shrugging off his robes, revealing his rather lean figure. He’d always been a rather conservative person ever since he was a youngling, but you guessed that living together in the most unpredictable circumstances made him more comfortable around you.

Scars carved his shoulders like constellations, including some new flesh wounds from flying shrapnel and rogue bullets. You admired his torso for another moment before closing your eyes, letting the heat of the water soak through your skin.

You could hear him shuffle and kick his boots off before joining you in the tub with a quiet splash.

Looking over, you saw him sink further into the water with a groan. “Too hot?” you asked.

He shook his head with a content smile. “It’s perfect.”

You smiled, gathering your robes. “I’ll leave you to it, then. The Council would have a fit if they knew I was in here.”

“Let them,” Obi-Wan replied, preoccupied with bubbles. “Just stay and rest. You deserve it.” He flashed a quick wink. “It’s not like anything’s going on.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Obi-Wan Kenobi?” you laughed. You hesitated before settling back in the water again. “Speaking of the Council, how was the meeting?”

His blue gaze flitted towards you. “Oh, nothing exciting. They seemed pleased,” he sighed. “They’re thinking of sending us elsewhere in a few days.”

“Of course,” you said, giving a bitter smile. “We’re in the middle of a war. We haven’t the time for anything else anymore.” You leaned your head against the edge of the tub, your gaze on the window above. “This was never supposed to happen. I mean look at us, we’re military leaders now.” You shook your head. “I wish it would just end soon.”

He inhaled deeply. “Me too.”

You turned back to look at him before you found yourself rubbing spots of dirt and grime away on his cheek. He seemed to melt into your touch, closing his eyes as your thumb found more marks on his forehead. Your touch was soothing and rhythmic.

You stifled a laugh, earning a small, somewhat annoyed, “What?”

“You’d think you rolled down a rocky hill into a pile of dirt, not battled thousands of droids,” you said, your thumb brushing over his brow to the top of his cheekbone. “You’re filthy, General.”

“I apologize for war not being more of a...civilized matter.”

Shaking your head, you began tracing his features with your fingers. The edges of his beard felt prickly under the pads of your fingers as you wiped away some bubbles.

“For what it’s worth, you’re doing the best you can,” you murmured.

His lips twitched into a thin smile. “You too.” His voice was soft and rather scratchy from yelling orders through explosions. “This will all be over soon, and we’ll all go back to living normal lives.”

“Normal,” you scoffed, nudging his bare shoulder. “We’re Jedi. We’re far from normal.”

His eyes followed your hands as you grabbed a sponge and your body scrub and began scrubbing his arms. He could feel your anxiety fading away with each scrub, almost like cleaning him was the therapy you needed.

He was infatuated with you, the way your skin glistened with steam. Your expression was relaxed and flushed from the heat, even more calm than when you slept. His head spun at the thought of smelling like you.

As he turned so you could scrub his back, massaging his muscles as you went, he couldn’t help but asking a question to fill the silence.

“Do you ever wish you weren’t a Jedi?”

Your motions stopped, and for a moment, panic made the blood drain from his face, thinking he asked the one question he shouldn’t have. When you continued, he let out a small breath.

“Sometimes,” you admitted softly. “But it’s honestly been so long, I can’t see myself doing anything else. After all, we were raised here.”

He knew how you felt.

He echoed your answer in his head. Sometimes.

Maybe in a different universe, you’d be happy in the countryside on a distant planet, far from the problems of the Republic. You’d eventually settle down with a family, children perhaps, or maybe you’d live your life alone with nothing but nature for company.

Or maybe you’d still be in the middle of all the action. You’d fight and fight until there was nothing left to fight for. Peace would prevail.

Sensing his mind in a haze, you leaned over his shoulder, gently pressing yourself into him. Your chin settled over his broad shoulder and collarbone, with his beard just missing your cheek. “What’re you thinking about?”

He stiffened at your touch before relaxing. “Hypotheticals.”

You let out a soft laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “As per usual.” He could feel you smiling as your lips brushed his skin. “Learn to quiet your mind, General. Those thoughts won’t do you any good.”

He turned, facing you. Instead of shying away, you kept your eye contact, brushing his long locks back.

“I can’t help it,” he joked lightly. “Perhaps I’m in need of some guidance from a well-seasoned Jedi.”

You smiled. “You’re looking right at one.”

As he watched your smile widen, he fell into your gaze again. He knew there was no such thing as luck, but he also knew he was the luckiest man alive to have you by his side.

[darleuxox]

precious. ☆ otto hightower x fem!stark!reader

key masterlist ✦ hotd masterlist ✦ intro

warnings: hotd episode 4 spoilers ; age gap (r is over 21.) ; dated marriage obligations ; drinking ; r is short lol

summary: in uncertain times, you and otto find comfort in the warmth.

word count: 1,270

a/n: is otto hightower a cunt? yeah. but is he hot? also yeah. also send house of the dragon rqs bc this show has me in a chokehold :)

Lately, the grand towers of Oldtown appeared dimmer than they ought to be, in bitter defiance of House Hightower’s motto and Otto Hightower's pride. He was far more uncomfortable than he anticipated about leaving Alicent alone at King’s Landing, despite Alicent’s position ensuring that she was in more than safe hands. Otto supposed that now he was a grandsire to two children, his days of fatherhood would remain less than imminent for the time being. He had done all he had to ensure that his legacy entered the world with power and grace, and that should’ve been enough. Yet something empty lingered within the man that he wouldn’t dare name, not since his first wife died.

It was an unusual pairing, a lady from House Beesbury and a lord of House Stark, both houses far in distance and likeness. While other guests hailing from The Reach seemed just as out of place as Otto, those native to Winterfell appeared to ignore the brisk weather altogether. Beneath his rigid exterior, Otto wanted nothing more than to leave to his own devices rather than be subject to this damned wedding. Contrary to what his brother tells him, he has urgent responsibilities to fulfill in the name of House Hightower. Taking another long swig of wine, Otto rolled his eyes hearing another onslaught of laughter far too loud and boisterous for his liking.

“At least try to appear civil, Otto,” Hobert mumbled into his younger brother's ear.

“I don’t see why I have to attend this wedding all the way in The North, brother,” Otto replied coldly, “Do you really think your boy can handle Oldtown while we’re away?”

“As I said before,” Hobert said, emphasizing each word bitterly, “Ormund is more than capable of fulfilling his duties in my absence. He’s grown into a fine man since you’ve last seen him. My son, a commendable heir to my seat and a gracious husband.” Hobert lowered his voice just for Otto to hear, “I wish I could say the same for you.”

“Excuse me?” Otto blinked, slowly turning to face his brother in silent rage.

“I see no reason why you shouldn’t marry again. It’d give you something to do rather than try pulling my strings all day.”

“I think you’ve had too much wine, my lord,” Otto argued through gritted teeth.

“Otto,” Hobert laughed heartily, “I’m not the one halfway through my fourth cup.”

Hobert always had a miraculous way of pushing the stone-cold Ser Otto Hightower’s buttons. Despite having an entire speech ready to freeze Hobert in his immature tracks, Otto was far too exhausted to fight anymore. Taking a final swig of his remaining drink, Otto roughly grabbed his older brother’s shoulder.

“I think I need some air,” Otto grumbled.

“That’s a wise decision, walking off all the drinks you had tonight,” Hobert snorted, earning him a light shove from Otto before his younger brother stormed off.

“Otto! I’m just fooling around, no need to get so defensive!”

Your older brother Cregan would have your head if he caught you out here again. But the celebrations proved to be too lawless for your taste, and there was nothing more annoying to you than putting on a pretty smile for guests from the south. If you hadn’t escaped sooner, Cregan would’ve already been showing you off to every lord and knight he invited with your future marriage in mind. You’d be perfectly fine, you reassured yourself, just as long as no one found you in one of the castle courtyards dressed to the nines playing with a dire wolf puppy.

“Oh precious,” You cooed, “You’re the only one who understands my ire.” The small wolf huffed, moving to lie on his back. “Trapped in this freezing castle with no escape,” you grumbled, rubbing the wolf’s belly playfully.

“Lady Stark?”

You squealed, picking up the wolf in your arms to cradle it protectively, “Lord Hightower, you startled me!”

“My apologies,” Otto told you, looking you up and down. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t quite the sight in your silk viridian dress and made-up hair. There was a cheeky sparkle in your eye made visible by the moonlight, and it suited you well.

“Did Cregan send you?” You asked meekly, holding the puppy closer to your chest.

“No. I suspect we’re out here for the same reason,” Otto replied, “Not enjoying the festivities?”

“Not in the slightest,” you groaned, “My brothers kept yelling and throwing things like a bunch of hooligans. I had to get out of there.”

“What’s that?”

“Hm?”

“In your arms.”

“This is precious. She’s my wolf,” You said softly, turning your arms to reveal the puppy’s sleeping form.

Otto’s resolve softened at the heart-warming sight. There was something comforting in the way your small hands gently squeezed the little creature. It didn’t help his composure when you looked up at him with those doe eyes, either.

“Please don’t take me back to the banquet,” You begged, “I like it much better out here.”

“Even in the cold?”

“I’m a Stark,” you scoffed, “Especially in the cold.” You waited for the older man to make his leave, with or without you. But he stayed, and through his spiritless gaze you could make out the slightest smile.

Otto stepped closer to you. “But you’re shivering.”

“No!” You relented stubbornly, “I’m fine. Really.”

When you snuggled into the wolf enough to make the animal squeak, Otto removed his fur.

“What are you doing?” You stammered, tensing up as he promptly wrapped the fur around your shoulders. He rubbed your arms up and down, and the foreign touch was surprisingly pleasant.

“I suppose that does feel better,” You said under your breath, “Thank you, my lord.”

“It would be dishonorable to leave a maiden such as yourself to her devices,” Otto told you cordially. His cheeks warmed when you wrapped the garment tighter around your form.

“If it pleases you, you may keep it,” Otto said quietly, “I should head back.”

“Of course! I’m sorry for keeping you,” You stressed.

“Don’t fret. It was my pleasure,” Otto assured, giving you another hint of a smile. Your cheeks burned as you watched the tall man stride off, feeling much less cranky than you did earlier.

A few months later you found yourself in a less brittle situation. Although the extra fur wasn’t necessary for The Reach’s quaint weather, the familiar musky scent helped a great deal when you missed him. You snuggled into the bed sleepily, using the fur as an impromptu blanket to shield your nightgown. When you were just about to delve into a slumber you felt a gentle, calloused hand cup your face.

“You need to stop sneaking up on me like that, Otto,” You groaned lightly, leaning into his hand as his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Otto said softly, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Cold again I see?” He chuckled. “I thought I moved you out of Winterfell so you wouldn’t have to deal with that anymore.”

“It’s always a little cold without you here,” You said, shuddering when you felt his thumb stroke your bottom lip.

“Well, I’m here now - so you won’t be needing this.” Otto placed a gentle hand on your neck to slowly remove the fur, causing you to whine.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” He tutted, gathering you in his arms tightly. Otto pressed a long and gentle kiss to your lips, before holding you tight. Releasing a deep sigh, he held you close as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “My precious wife.”

[loquaciouslo]

5 / ? | Aftermath.

pairings. yoongi x reader. jimin x reader. eventual OT7

genre. dark, dirty smut ♡ ♡ ♡

word count. 6.6k

chapter one ➸ next chapter (coming soon)

WARNINGS! this fic is sacrilegious. overall it has heavy themes of dub con, non con content. there is coercion and manipulation. sex sandwiched between degradation and humiliation and guilt. u know, the spicy stuff. this ch is pretty tame tho.

author’s note. hiiii everyone i love u! sorry for the wait. i got obsessed with some new books, needed some r&r, and overall kept getting distracted the past couple of weeks. but bc i got good news today i’m dropping this update tonight while i work on progressing the most recent ch and new ideas ♡

Next time.

You look at Jimin like he’s grown two heads. He returns an amused smile, his pretty round eyes twinkling with self-assuredness. You decide right then and there that’d you love nothing more than for this couch to swallow you whole. Yes, that’d be awfully convenient. Perfect even. You need to be alone, without anyone else around. Take the time to process what you’ve just been through. And clothes. You need your clothes. Your near-nakedness in contrast to their fully clothed bodies makes you feel uncomfortably vulnerable and open.

You could say a million things in response to that definitive statement, but you can’t get your jaw to unlock. Nothing comes out.

So, you do what you’re best at: you dodge it. You find the will and energy to move, persevering past your emotional immobility, and scramble to fix the bra Jimin hastily shoved up your chest so he could take advantage of what hid underneath. Your blouse is next. You look around frantically in search of it, finding it by one of the coffee table legs on the floor. You suffocate in their silence.

“I—I have to go,” Out of nowhere do you find a shred of your voice. You don’t want it to sound as shaky as it is, but all you can do is pray that you can keep it together long enough until you get home. Although you don’t know how you’re going to manage that when you can barely stand yet. “I have to get home.”

“And how do you plan on getting there?” Yoongi finally asks.

“I’ll use—” my phone, you nearly say. You had checked your bag after Jimin had left you in the kitchen and it wasn’t there. All because you left your brain at home, and with it, your phone on the kitchen counter. Idiot. 

That’s not the only reason that got you into this situation, it's one of many.

“I’ll walk home.” Or the bus. It doesn’t matter. You swallow, fingers trembling as you shove the middle button of your blouse shut. It’s getting harder to hold, let alone fight this conversation.

“Not looking like that.” Yoongi scoffs. You take offense at that, considering he’s the one who caused it. A spark of defiance rising to the surface.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you look like a pretty party favor, sweetheart,” his smile is nothing less than innocent and not the teeniest bit regretful, “so, we’ll save you the walk of shame and drive you home.”

“It’s fine.” You bite back tears. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Or do for you? “I can walk.”

“I wasn’t really offering. I’m telling you.”

“I—” and then you’re shushed, again. 

“We’re driving you home.” Yoongi doesn’t make much room for argument and you hate that. He’s got a simple look on his face that says less is more as well as: save it. You’ve never seen this facet of Yoongi before, not and it absolutely floors you. You never thought the pastor, who’s so reverent and kind, could foster such a bossy and manipulative son...

And as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t really want to walk home. Not looking like this. His assessment is probably right, and from his perspective, he can clearly see the number Jimin and him did on you. Everything you own is wrinkled to the high heavens, and you’re missing your tights, heels, and most importantly your panties. Your hair, which had been so neatly brushed and simple in style, now looks ruffled and askew from all their hair grabbing and kind redirecting.

Yoongi’s pleased when you utter a mumbled ‘okay’ under your breath, knowing that you’re giving in. 

You hate losing, and you’ve been doing an awful lot of that lately.

“Where…” you shift in your seat, “where are my…?”

“You mean these?” Jimin supplies. You anxiously run your hand through your hair.

You feel something soft put into your open palm. When you look down, you’re surprised to see it’s your underwear that Jimin’s given you. How sweet, you think sarcastically, until you remember how Yoongi ripped them off. He could have torn them, and he wouldn’t have cared. You snatch the panties from Jimin’s hand, putting them on as fast as they appeared on shaky legs and smoothing your skirt down.

None of you speak after that. They let you go about your ministrations quietly as if they know you'll crack otherwise, though you feel their eyes as you move to pick up your heels and slip them onto your trembling feet. You’re not even sure you can walk a straight line.

“You look ready enough to me,” Yoongi cuts through the thick of it, taking his time as he looks you up and down. Secretly, you do the same, though with much less confidence.

Unlike you, Yoongi looks just as perfectly intact now as he did before this started, and so does Jimin. They’re nearly identical. Save for the gentle after-sex glow that radiates out.

You won’t look at them as they rise off the couch, lost in your spiraling thoughts. It’s Jimin who startles you out of them by the grace of his hand on your lower back. Nothing deters him from picking you up; not even the way you flinch at the first sign of contact.

You just don’t understand.

Why is Jimin being so nice to you?

When several minutes ago he wouldn’t heed a single plea of yours or give it the time of day?

You could just ask them. The question is on the tip of your tongue. Just say it.

Maybe they’d give it to you bluntly. Why did you do this? That’s all you want out of this now, to understand.

It's all you can think of as you’re being led to the parking lot. You don’t remember leaving the building or even crossing the courtyard to make it this far, nor do you have any idea what time in the afternoon it is. But they were right—no one’s around. It’s as empty as a graveyard. Everyone really did go home.

You chance a glance at Jimin when he opens the handle to a car and tilts his head to the side as an indicator for you to scoot in. You’re reluctant to do so, but then you remember what your alternatives are. You brace yourself and slip inside the nicely furnished vehicle. The leather seats are cold against your bare legs.

So, here you are, in the back seat of a vehicle with the two gentlemen you’ve been going to church with for the past several months, with their cum seeping out of your pussy and the sides of your panties. What if you get it all over the leather seats? Is Yoongi going to be mad? You assume this is his car because he’s the one driving it, and the last thing you need right now is to have one more humiliating thing to happen to you today.

“Where do you live?” Yoongi asks from the driver’s seat. You’re approaching a stoplight.

Your heart skips a beat. Are you really going to tell them where you live? Do you want that? 

Is that a good idea?

“Y/n?”

There's no time to think.

“I live in one of the O&M apartments,” you answer, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. Yoongi looks at you through the rearview mirror, so you avert your gaze and pretend to look out the car window. You won't let him observe you so easily.

“I know where that is,” Jimin speaks up from the passenger’s seat, turning around to beam a smile at you in the backseat. It makes your stomach flip. Fuck.

“That’s near where I live. If you take a left after this turn and go down seven or so blocks down,” he points to Yoongi’s side of the car, “it’ll be on the right.”

All you ever knew was that Jimin kind of lived in the area, through word shared on the grapevine, and you kind of left it at that. It was none of your business to know anything more detailed.

Your only saving grace from this suffocating space is that you live no more than a five to ten-minute drive away from your church, depending on traffic, and the rest of it passes in terse silence. Terse from your end. Jimin and Yoongi seem almost impassive towards you now, as if you really had just gotten out of an innocent study session, and you’re beginning to crumble from it. How can they act so normal? You clutch the leather seat until your knuckles are white. They only release as you pick out the familiar view of your apartment complex. 

“Well,” Yoongi drawls, pulling up to the front and putting the car in park, “we’re here.”

You’re reaching for the door handle as soon as Yoongi puts on the breaks, all too eager to get the hell out of here and into the comfort of your own space. Jimin senses that urgency and is faster at holding you back by your wrist than you are at opening the door first.

“Wait. Do you have your phone on you?”

It’s the first time you dare look him in the eyes for, and when you do, all you feel inside is weak. How could someone so sweet-looking call you a slut in the same breath he calls you honey?

“I don’t,” you admit, hoping to dodge deeper conversation. You don’t know where this is going or why he’s stalling you. Or what the point of parking is for. “It’s at home—which I really should be at,” you croak, gently tugging on your wrist. 

“Give me a second then,” Jimin tells you, and seeing as you don’t have much of a choice, you sit there, watching him oddly as he pulls a pen out of his pocket and pops the cap off. He sticks it between his lips as he writes what looks like a set of numbers on your wrist.

“This is my number,” he finishes, popping the cap back on, and taps each line he’s written, “and this one is Yoongi’s. Remember them.”

Soon as he lets go of your wrist, you find yourself just sitting there, eyes big and wide in confusion. What?

“I don’t understand,” your eyes flit between the two of them, a lump in your throat, “what am I supposed to do with these?”

Your statement carries the weight of two meanings, and yet only one is answered.

“Text us,” Yoongi turns around to face you, and this time there’s no looking away. There’s a lilt in his tone; a promise. “Don’t make us miss you.”

The second you lock the door behind you, you don’t even register the surroundings of your own home. You crumble to the floor and just when everything’s about to spill out and your myriad cocktail of emotions gets the better of you, you don’t. You manage to hold yourself back. At least until you make it somewhere other than the front door.

You throw your head back, toes curling as you straighten your weak legs out. You grimace suddenly when you feel more of the cum they left inside you slipping out of your aching hole. You shift uncomfortably as it collects between your cheeks and so you place your hand between them, feeling the wetness on your fingertips. Flashbacks of what just transpired run through your overwhelmed but vivid memory.

You thought about Jimin first. How large his hands were as they cupped your breasts and abused your nipples. You felt his fingers in places you never thought you’d have them; his mouth unbelievably eager between the valley of your thighs, spreading them open and devouring you whole. Why did he have to do that to you? You didn’t want to cum, but he made you do it twice. Was it meant to add to your humiliation? Just to twist your stomach in knots and confuse you about what you’re so certain you didn’t want.

And then there’s Yoongi. You’re never going to forget how his mouth felt. All he did was lick you for less than a minute and he had you flooding your panties. You thought he was going to make you cum on Jimin’s lap, just to add to it, but all he wanted was a taste before he threw you to the other wolf; more than pleased to watch you with ardent lust as you fell apart underneath Jimin’s lapping tongue.

They played your body better than Yoongi’s fingers did gliding across the white and black keys of the church’s piano; better than the fluid way Jimin gesticulates with his hands when he talks about something passionate in the pews.

You knew, without a reasonable doubt, that there was something seriously fucked up about you. You couldn’t phrase it any other way.

Even if you didn’t want it, even though you begged and pleaded with them to stop in some hopeless endeavor, they broke you down, little by little, and put a crack in you. You came for Jimin, on his fingers and his tongue. You almost came on Yoongi’s cock for fucks sake. They took every single no from you and twisted it into a fucked up yes.

You squeeze your eyes shut. How could you find forgiveness for yourself after this? For Jimin and Yoongi? Thinking about the way their cocks stretched you out so good; how they filled every inch of you up. The burn is still there. The sting from their hips slamming into your ass cheeks is still present. Their words ring in your ears, causing you to press your hands into your eyes.

“Shower,” you whisper, standing up. Your legs are no longer as unreliable. Instead, there’s soreness that’s starting to set into certain sets of muscles. The parts that got the most out of a workout. “I need is a shower.”

Your descent to the bathroom is slow but steady.

You’re never looking them in the eyes again.

After seeing what they did in your bathroom mirror, your breath stops short. They left nothing untouched, no patch of skin ignored.

Your skin was mottled with splotches of slight irritation, brought out more harshly by the bright lights overhead. You graze what looks to be the beginning of bruise marks on your hip bones and wince knowingly. When you run the length of your stomach and see the hickey one of them left on your left breast, you suck in a breath, eyes following your now naked form in the mirror, wet from the shower you took. You examine each part of your anatomy with great detail until your eyes fall on the hickey between your neck and jaw.

“He didn’t,” you hiss, running your fingers over the tender spot. You twist your neck, pulling your hair to the side to get a better look. It’s a deep red, sure to turn purple as it gets worse the first several days. It’s not something easy you’d have hiding with the kind of make-up you have, but you could give it one valiant try before you resorted to begging Ellie to borrow hers.

Which you may or may not do, you haven’t decided yet. The last thing you wanted from her was to see the big red sign on your neck that yells ‘Interrogate me with questions, please! I love being made to talk!’

Pulling your eyes away from the clear glass, you wring out the wet ends of your hair with your body towel and pat dry your face as the last step. You exit the bathroom with a bathrobe tied loosely around your waist and lounge towards your bedroom with two goals: getting dressed and getting distracted.

You switch into a pair of pajama bottoms and a baggy shirt, testing out your sore limbs with a few mild stretches before slipping into some socks. What you need right now is comfort and peace of mind. You need normalcy and time. Otherwise, you have the keenest feeling you’re going to break down and possibly cry since that’s what people do when they don’t know how to process shit.

Yes, that’s what you needed. Just don’t panic. Don’t think about it. Breathe.

Breathing induces hunger. Your stomach growls at the action, the aftertaste of crackers and skittles on your tongue.

You shake your head and book it to the kitchen, this time in slippers. Don’t think about it.

There’s only one way to take your mind off of it and ease the current weight on your shoulders, and that was calling a friend. Even if you didn’t give Ellie the whole story, you had no doubt that she could make you feel better with the flick of her manicured fingers. In tough times, she always knew you could turn to her.

As if on cue, the familiar sound of her customized ring tone plays throughout the room, her smiling face popping up as the caller ID. You scramble to find it, discovering it’s exactly where you knew you left it: the kitchen counter. You were occupied with making sure you wouldn’t forget your house keys for the second time in the last month and have to spend god knows how long outside your landlord's door just so they could let you back into your own home.

But would it have mattered now? No, you think not. Again, don’t think about it. It can’t be that hard. Not for me.

You answer it after the second ring, taking a deep breath in.

“Hey,” You croak out, sounding lame and then hopeful. “I missed you. And I’m really sorry. I forgot my phone at home and haven’t had a chance to check my messages yet.”

As soon as you say that, she launches into a whole tirade about why you should be sorry and proceeds to call you a beautiful basket case in the same harmless string of sentences. You try to stifle a laugh at the cause of her rambling, but you can’t stop the giggle that rises. She really knows how to turn herself inside out—in the most comical way. And it might be what you need: her. Or so you think until her focus flips onto you.

“What have I been up to?” You repeat, knowing full well that she’s already asked you twice, but felt it necessary to emphasize the obvious. You switch your balance onto a different foot, choosing your next words carefully. You can’t tell the truth, so you have to come up with some sort of believable but small lie. Something her sensitive senses won’t pick up on. “I was just out, getting lunch. And then I met up with a classmate…”

It’s only been a handful of hours and several minutes that have passed since Jimin’s last seen you.

And since then, you’re all he can think about.

In the beginning, he had this whole idea of how he was going to play with you—like a cat pawing a mouse around—but he couldn’t stand the sight of you laid out before him; your hands balled into fists as Yoongi squeezed your wrists tight. They barely touched you and yet your panties were wet through the sheer material.

He fingers his notebook in thought, folding and unfolding one corner edge as he relives a few of his favorite moments. He can’t concentrate on any of his work when you were so, so soft and wild in his hands. He wanted to know what you felt like so badly, wanted to find out if you’d be as good of a fuck as he thought you’d be.

“I should’ve taken them,” He huffs, biting his lip. It’s his only regret. Just the thought of you having to leave without your panties on, with his cumming running down your thighs made his cock twitch in arousal.

He had all the power in the world. And it was delicious. Like eating the apple offered to Adam, so sweet and so wrong. Sinful. It’s the best way he can describe it. The power he had to do whatever he wanted with you and without consequence was unlike anything he’d felt before. It was a long dream come true. He wishes it was your hand wrapped around his cock again, only this time you’d suck him until he decided where he wanted to cum first.

It’s all he can think about.

That and why he nor Yoongi haven’t gotten that telltale ring of a text message from you yet.

Out the corner of his eye, he sees his phone, face down on his desk, alerts him of an incoming message. He swipes it, figuring it’s going to be anyone but you, and would you look at that—

He’s right. It’s not from you.

Frowning, he has to think about what it was that you were doing that has you so damn busy?

His assumptions are getting the best of him; growing more certain every hour that passes that you’re avoiding him with deliberate intention.

And sure, he understands. He may be many things—a gentleman, a wolf in sheep’s clothing—but he wasn’t lacking in reading people. Half of him wonders if he pushed you too far and that’s quite the possibility, he mulls over, and the other half—well, it wants to show you the error of your ways.

What about “next time” and “text us” didn’t you understand?

“Hey, don’t hurt your pretty face from overthinking.”

Jimin’s so startled he almost tips back in his chair. He saves himself at the last second, swiveling around to glare at the bane of his existence.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Taehyung, to stop entering my home whenever you please—”

“—your door was unlocked.”

“Does that mean it’s an invitation?”

“Uh, yeah.” Taehyung also has no problem just waltzing into his room, plopping down on his bed with what looks to be a bag of chips. He pops one into his mouth, eyeing the blond. “Everyone else is outside, unloading the car.”

“What?” Jimin asks, perplexed. He didn’t know about this?

“Listen, you’ve been too busy for us all week,” Taehyung chews, swallows. Another chip bites the dust. “So, if you can’t attend and enjoy any of our glorious game nights, we’ll just bring them to you.”

Taehyung smiles, pleased with himself. “You want one?” He asks, offering the bag to Jimin.

“No thanks.”

“Then tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’m your friend, duh,” and this time, Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” Jimin deflects, a hint of teasing, but his friend sees right through him, “at least not yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do you remember y/n?”

“No shit,” Taehyung gestures, chip in the air, “but go on.”

“That’s the kicker, Taehyung.” The blond pouts, a smile in his eyes. Taehyung knows that look. When Jimin looks like that it means he’s got something juicy to spill. “You won’t get to find out more until I feel like saying it.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out. Taehyung squints and slaps Jimin on the knee.

“What if we get a six-pack in you, will you spill? Let's try.”

“Are you aware of how rude you are? It’s going to take more than that to get me off my ass! What do you take me for?”

“A little bit of a pu—”

“Why is it whenever I find the two of you together, you’re always like this?”

Both men look to the doorway. It’s Hoseok, carrying a very noticeable case of beer and Soju, a smile lighting his sunny features as he bats his eyes between the two of them.

“Is that whole thing for us?” Jimin asks, eyeing the case.

“Yep! And there’s more to come! Come downstairs, 'cause we’re not waiting on your asses a minute longer!” After that, Hobi disappears down the stairs, clearly expecting them to follow.

“Let’s go,” Taehyung stands up. Jimin follows suit. They both know the other man isn’t kidding. The other five men could easily wipe out two cases of each beverage within an hour if they get too carried away arguing. “The faster we get those drinks in you, the faster you tell us everything, including the last three digits to your credit card!”

“Shut up. If you want another sugar daddy, go to Jin.” Jimin shoves Taehyung in the back of the shoulder, causing him to halfway stumble and turn around to curse the blond out. He’s got everything he needs right now: good company, booze, and some highly competitive gaming about to happen. Asses will be kicked, and he will rise victorious. He can take out some of his frustration over you out on Jungkook, or anyone he sets his eyes on. His friends are perfect.

As they descend, he can hear voices shouting over each other.

“Give me back the controller or I swear to God I’ll end you! Now!”

The night is still young.

It took two wonderful hours to completely distract you, but it was worth it. Ellie enchanted you with silly stories that made your belly ache and jokes that made your heart clench for a whole new reason. You bonded over workplace gossip and academic pains until eventually, your conversation had lulled a little into background noise. Once you heard her scolding one of her cats for using the couch instead of her scratch post to sharpen her nails, you took that as your opportunity to remind her, again, that you had to go.

“I love you, Ellie,” and you meant it when you said it, “but if I don’t go now, I won’t get anything done. You know me.”

She only relents after calling you a little old lady who needs her beauty sleep, and you let the genuine laugh that follows roll off your shoulders. This time, your goodbye is final, and you’re the one to hang up first. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

You know you’re not really going to study your notes for tomorrow or pick up a book to read. It’s the last thing on your mind now that you no longer have Ellie to distract you. As much as you love her, you know it couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later you were going to wind up exactly where you knew you’d end up: in bed, watching the sky turn from high and bright to twilight through your open window, restless and sore.

You made good choices in how to take care of yourself, but now you’ve exhausted all of them. The only thing you can do now is lie in bed, freshly washed and fed, and switch between your two favorite channels: your ceiling and the window.

When you look at your ceiling for too long, you can see patterns in the paint. Your imagination can make out faces within the swirls, and all of them feel as if they’re morphing into judgmental stares with their crooked eyes and mouths. They know what no one else knows.

You lied to your best friend. Actually, you told more lies in a single conversation with her than you had throughout your entire friendship, and why?

Jimin and Yoongi linger in the back of your head, rising to the surface now that you have nothing else to think about, to do, or to be. It’s just you, alone with all your memories and feelings, and here you are, faced with the task of defining them.

Without thinking, you touch the side of your neck, close to where your jaw is. When you touch the tender spot, it reacts to your touch and elicits a natural sting. You saw it in the bathroom, how bad it looked. You estimated it would take at least a week to go away because of how enthusiastic Jimin was when he gave it to you. He trapped you between his arms, mouth evasive, as he made you squirm into the couch. He felt so hot against you, warm like a furnace.

You smash your face into the pillow as the memory makes your face hot, your body tingle. You drag your fingers away, clutching the bedsheets instead as a sudden wave of passion overcomes you. It’s so intense, so indecipherable, that it brings you to sudden, hot tears. They form fast, rolling down your face, staining the pillow as you hold it close.

What happened back there, with Jimin and Yoongi, it changed something in you. Something you couldn’t define yet, but inherently sensed. And now you were mourning that piece of yourself.

Was it some kind of kiss? A piece of you died in their arms.

“Why?” You blink through the tears, speaking aloud in the emptiness of your bedroom. “Why am I like this? Why am I feeling like this? I liked Jimin and Yoongi, I should—I should hate them—shouldn’t I? Because…”

Nothing answers you besides the voice in your own head. Shouldn’t you?

In the bigger picture, you thought they were just going to be passing crushes your attention would eventually move on from, as you usually do. But they stuck. You started to savor the small moments when you crossed paths in the pews and at other functions, and then you’d go home and scream into your pillow because it didn’t matter how you felt, it was all a fantasy in the end. You’d be dreaming—hoping—for something that was nothing.

Your heart tightens. You really liked them. It didn’t matter who came first. It didn’t matter if it was right for you to harbor feelings for two different people. So long as you invited only love into your heart, it should be fine, isn’t it? And slowly but surely, you fell for Jimin’s beautifully round, yet almond eyes, and the twinkle that harbored in them.  You fell for the way Yoongi laughed with such ease; how intelligent he came across when he spoke. He was pensive, quiet… beautiful.

They were both beautiful, unbelievably so. You couldn’t deny that. Even as they opened their mouth wide, teeth sharp, and debased you for all that you were worth just hours ago. One moment you’re honey, and the next you’re a slut. The paradox was stifling.

“It’d be so much easier if I did hate them.” You blink back your tears, squeezing them shut, and speak to your empty room. "Wouldn't it?"

You stare into your closet mirror. The girl looking back at you had a bit of a blotchy face by rubbing your eyes into your pillow. You’re squeezing the second one tight.

What was the truth?

The truth is that it lies between your legs. Not the evidence they left behind. The evidence that you had carefully washed away, but the throb you’d get every time you’d have flashbacks about those fervent moments. You couldn’t count how many minutes passed in that room that you spent under them. You easily lost track of time when Jimin has his tongue on your clit and Yoongi’s cock stuffing your mouth.

“God,” you whisper, harsh and dry, “it’s not fair!”

None of it is. And none of it makes any sense to you. The way they came onto you was uncharacteristic, unpredictable, and overwhelming. They were a pair of polite and sweet men that you would mostly watch from afar, so that’s how you saw them. But you experienced them so… differently. And yet…

You swallow, biting your lip. They made you like it. You let your guard down.

I know how soft Yoongi’s lips are. How gentle he can be when he kisses at first. And it was entirely unlike how he fucked you. You remember the way he held onto your hips as he dragged you down his dick, fast and dirty like he was trying to take something out on you.

You remember how Jimin made you come on his tongue without mercy. Without shame. He only had a fire in his eyes when he buried his face between your legs, peeking up at you between your pert breasts. You remember nearly coming on Yoongi’s cock and if you had, you knew you would have died on the spot. All because in a matter of minutes they reduced you to some kind of loose-lipped slut.

You uncross your ankles, thighs aching. Is that what you were, deep, deep down? To them? For them? You bring your heart to your chest, heart beating rapidly at the thought. What was worse? That they made you enjoy it, or that they could have chosen not to?

You clutch at your shirt, only to let it go. Your arm hangs off the bed, glowing under the twilight shine that comes through your window. And illuminated, clear as day, are the numbers that stubbornly stayed put on your wrist. You bring it to your face, examining every digit.

Should you have washed it away?

Maybe I should. You think it, but you’ve yet to get up and move. You’re rooted to your bed, staring at the rather delicate handwriting. It tickled. When he wrote it. You deflate. It took everything in you to stay as still as a statue while he took what felt like forever writing it.

‘Text us. Don’t make us miss you.’

That’s what he said. The look Yoongi gave you through the rearview mirror was rather effective in letting you know that while it sounded like a choice, it might have been another ‘polite’ order. Were there consequences if you did or didn’t?

Half of you didn’t want to find out, but the other half couldn’t do anything to pick up the phone on your nightstand. It just rests there, with no messages or alerts at the moment. Your life is as quiet as your room now. Your soul is unsound. Everything tends to change once the sun goes down.

It’ll fade if I leave it too long. You press your thumb pad against the first area code, but the ink doesn’t pick up, not yet. Maybe after a few more washes if you deliberately decide you won’t. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, unable to make up your mind. Either choice puts you between a rock and a hard place, trapping you in a decision you’re forced to make.

“Damned if I do,” you shift onto your side, grabbing your phone, hesitating. It’s cold to the touch and the screen blinks at you as it wakes up. You’re not ready for this, or what the future holds for you. “Damned if I don’t.”

Decisions, decisions.

“Hey, where is Yoongi-Hyung? It’s his turn.”

“He said he had to take a phone call real quick.”

“Oh,” Jungkook answers, fiddling with the game controller, “that’s fine. Once he comes back I can show him what losing feels like.”

“Jesus, you’re something else,” Hobi laughs, leaning back.

But after about ten minutes of waiting, the boys decidedly chose to take on each other until their missing friend returned. After going through two turns Jimin chooses to be the guy who gets up and check on him.

Opening the sliding door to the kitchen and stepping inside, Jimin realizes Yoongi is still on the phone, and it’s obvious it’s from his mom. He remains silent, but when Yoongi turns around he mouths ‘are you coming back or what?’

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as his mother continues to talk and talk. One thing he doesn’t quite appreciate is that she’s the type to keep someone on the phone as long as possible. You can say something, anything, and she’ll chime in with, ‘oh, let me tell you about this new technique I found on the internet…’ or some other slightly relatable thing and so on and so forth.

“That’s really great, Mom. I’m happy you’ve been picking up a few hobbies,” Yoongi juggles his phone between his shoulder and ear, keeping his phone steady while he takes a beer out of the fridge, cracking it open and taking a swig. "Before I forget, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

He’s been trying to get it out of her three times, but she just gets distracted by other topics. It takes a minute for her to tell him everything, and as she does, a smile overtakes his features and grows ever wider, his eyes glinting with mischief. He takes a glance at Jimin, mouthing that he’ll be off soon, he just needs everyone to be patient.

“That’s good news. I’d love to help out.” He tells her. “Don’t worry. You can always count on me to be there. We'll talk more later, okay? I promise. Tell dad I said hi.” With that, he says his goodbyes and hangs up.

“What was that about? You’re missing the whole game. Jungkook's beating everyone.”

“I didn’t know it was going to take that long,” Yoongi takes another swig of his drink and shrugs, “but I have good news.”

“And you’re going to tell me...?”

“Mom wants to do a bible study on Wednesday at Sun Hee's place.” Yoongi reveals, walking up to his friend. “Something different, maybe with a few more people. She’d like it if we both came along.”

“Okay…” Jimin murmurs, waiting for him to shell out the rest of the details.

"Y/n's mom will be there. That means her daughter might come too, either out of choice or obligation. You know how mothers are." 

It takes a second for Jimin to comprehend what Yoongi is saying, and when it dawns on him his eyes glint with the same appeal.

Nothing could be better than this. Well… that’s not completely true. Cumming in your tight little pussy came first on his top ten best experiences.

“I think that gives her plenty of time to come to a decision," Jimin nods, more to himself than anything, "since I suspect she’s going to try and avoid us.”

“Of course."

Yoongi believes that he knows you better than you know yourself already. His intuition is rarely wrong and making risky assumptions are his forte.

“She’s stubborn. Some learn the first time around, others take a little more convincing."

This is why Jimin adores his older friend. He's rarely ever wrong.

“So, do you plan guys plan on coming back or what?”

Eyes are drawn to the door, the two of them whip around to see Taehyung leaning against the door frame.

“We could really use two more players.”

“Yoongi was on the phone with his mom, you know how it is," Jimin explains as smoothly as he slips one of the bottles out of Yoongi's hands. The man doesn't even care to fight, since he got it for Jimin in the first place.

“Talking your ear off again, huh?”

“You know it,” Yoongi walks past Taehyung, and the youngest turns sideways to let him out respectfully.

“Just how much of that conversation did you catch?” Jimin eyes the other blonde. He doesn't want to blow the cover he's crafted when he was hoping to reveal it a little at a time. Tell it like a juicy piece of fruit someone can't wait to sink their teeth in because if there’s anything the boys love talking about it, it’s the arts, gaming, and everyone's favorite: sexual conquests.

“About what?” Taehyung’s eyes are innocent and wide, and although Jimin can’t quite tell if he’s deceiving him or not, he won't dwell on it.

One blond follows the other out of the kitchen, and within moments they’re invested in a competitive match of wits and reflexes.

But with Jimin's back turned, Taehyung can’t stop his little secretive smile.

Of course, he didn't hear anything. 

[moriihana]

we can't fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || six: why does everyone monologue so much

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: shigaraki makes a mistake (kidnaps a Child™), a grandpa knocks out dabi and upsets you, then shit goes sideways and you're kinda homeless again but not really

content: aaaaangst?

word count: 1788

a/n: couldn't find a good enough gif for dabi so we've got the asshole thumb thumb lookin fucker instead

*previously known as “we can’t fix each other (but we can heal our wounds together)”; i changed the title bc these assholes aint healin shit they’re just being overall menaces

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

“I’ll ask you one more time, aspiring hero, Bakugo Katsuki… will you join me?”

You had to withhold a laugh at Shigaraki’s question. He really thinks kidnapping this kid and chaining him up will win his favour? 

“If you’re gonna talk in your sleep, you should just go to sleep and die,” Bakugo snarled. You did laugh at that. 

“I think you just got owned by a kid, boss.” You grinned, disregarding Shigaraki’s withering glare. Dabi elbowed you and mouthed ‘not the time’. 

Shigaraki turned his attention to the T.V., where Eraserhead was giving a statement on the Villain’s attack and Bakugo’s kidnapping. After a few minutes, he looked back at Bakugo. 

“It’s so strange…” he said. “Why are the heroes being criticised? The way they were dealing with things was just a little off the mark. Is it because it’s their job to protect? Everyone makes a mistake or two. Are they supposed to be perfect? Modern-day heroes are so uptight. Don’t you think, Bakugo?”

“Once heroes receive compensation to protect people, they aren’t heroes anymore,” Spinner added. “That is Stain’s teaching.”

“Many of your so-called ‘heroes’ only protect those who fit their beliefs,” you said softly, “and disregard the suffering of those they deem lesser or unworthy. Are they really heroes then?”

Shigaraki began again, “The strange system of transforming people’s lives into money or glory. The society that sticks tight to those rules. The citizens who blame the losers rather than encourage them. Our fight is to question: what is a hero? What is justice? Is this society truly just? We’ll have everybody thinking about it. We’re planning on winning.” He trained his eye on Bakugo, and asked with a tilt of his head, “you like winning, too, right?”

Bakugo’s glare sharped. You stepped back slightly, not trusting the look on the kid’s face.

“Dabi, release his restraints.” Shigaraki pointed at the boy. Dabi turned to their leader.

“Huh? This guy’s gonna fight, you know.” 

Shigaraki shrugged. “It’s fine. We need to treat him like an equal, since we’re scouting him. Besides, you can tell if you’ll win or not if you fight in this situation, right, U.A. student?”

Dabi huffed, then glanced at Twice. “Twice, you do it.” You snickered. He glared at you, as if daring you to comment. You chose not to.

“What, me? No way!” Twice jumped.

“Do it.”

“Man…” He walked over and began to fiddle with the restraints. As he did that, Compress spoke up.

“I do apologise for using such forceful methods. But please understand that we are not just a mob trying to commit crimes. We didn’t kidnap you by accident.”

Shigaraki got up and approached Bakugo, who was massaging his wrists. “Even though our situations differ, everyone here has been restricted and suffered because of people… rules… and heroes. I’m sure you also—” He stopped speaking when Bakugo kicked Twice away and lunged towards him, setting off an explosion and knocking Father off of his face.

“Shigaraki!”

“I listened quietly to your endless talking… idiots can’t get to the point, so they’re always talking for a long time. Basically, you mean ‘we wanna harass people, so please join us,’ right? Don’t bother.” Bakugo stood straight and grinned. “I want to win like All Might. No matter what anyone says, that will never change!”

Dabi moved slightly to shield you as everyone took up defensive positions in case the kid decided to fight. It was then that you noticed Shigaraki’s unnerved expression as he eyed the hand now on the floor. “Father…”

Bakugo took up a fighting stance, his grin even wider. “That’s how it is, you damn scum of a league! Just so you know, I’m still allowed to fight!”

“You know exactly what your position is, huh? What a smart boy!” Magne almost sounded impressed. 

Dabi, on the other hand, was the opposite. He looked bored and slightly annoyed. “No, he’s an idiot.”

Toga clapped her hands together. “I’ll stick you!”

“Even if he wasn’t going to join us, he should have pretended we were winning him over… he’s done it now,” Compress mused. You agreed—that would’ve been the smart thing to do.

“I won’t do something I don’t want to even if I’m only faking it. And I don’t wanna be in an annoying place like this for very long.”

“We aren’t annoying,” you snapped at him. “If anything, you are, ya damn brat. Talk at a normal volume, will you?” Dabi elbowed you again to get you to quiet down.

Shigaraki’s hand twitched. “Father…”

“Don’t, Shigaraki Tomura! Calm down!” Kurogiri said frantically, readying to stop him from attacking Bakugo.

Instead of fighting, he held his arm out. “Don’t touch him, any of you.” Shigaraki picked up Father from the floor. “This guy…” he began as he placed the hand back onto his face, “...is a valuable piece. I wish you would’ve listened to me a little. I thought we could come to an understanding.”

“Come to an understanding? No way!”

“Then I have no choice. The heroes said they’re continuing their investigation of us. We don’t have time to talk leisurely.” Shigaraki turned towards the T.V.. “Sensei—lend me your power.”

“Sensei? You’re not the boss around here? That’s not funny!” Bakugo hissed.

“Kurogiri, Compress, make him go to sleep again.”

Compress sighed as he moved towards the boy, “I can’t believe he’s such a bad listener. I’m almost impressed.”

“If you want me to listen to you, then get on your knees and die!”

Before Compress could activate his Quirk, there was a knock at the door. “Hello, this is Pizza-la, Camino store.” A beat passed, before the wall Spinner was leaning against burst and heroes swarmed.

“Smash!”

“Kurogiri, gate!” Shigaraki shouted. 

“Pre-emptive binding—” Wooden vines wrapped around the League members, preventing Kurogiri from activating his Quirk, “—Lacquered Chain Prison!”

You yelped in pain as the vines restricted around you, aggravating your arthritis. Dabi snarled at that, flames lighting up on him. “Watch what you’re doing, hero!” Before he could do anything, another hero kicked him in the head, knocking him out.

“Dabi!” You panicked, thrashing around. “Shit, Dabi—”

“—don’t be impatient. It’d be in your best interests to stay put.”

All Might glared at the League, ignoring their protests and discomfort. “You can’t run anymore, League of Villains! Why? Because we are here!” He then stood and turned to Bakugo. “I’m sure you were scared… you did good bearing it. I’m sorry. It’s fine now, young man!”

You zoned out after that, your focus solely on Dabi’s wellbeing. It wasn’t until Shigaraki began to get up that you snapped back to reality.

“—justice, peace… I’ll destroy this garbage heap that you put a lid on with such vague ideas! It was for that purpose that I set All Might apart and started gathering people to my cause! Don’t be ridiculous. This is the beginning… Kurogiri—!” He began, but stopped his order as something pierced through Kurogiri, causing the warp-gate user to slump over.

“No, stop! I couldn’t see anything! What, did you kill him?!” Magne shrieked, shaking her head around. 

The “something” that pierced Kurogiri moved in front of her. “I played around with his insides and made him unconscious. He is not dead.”

“Fucker, you could’ve hurt him!” You shouted. “You don’t just play around inside of people, you freak!” The hero ignored you, only proving to further your anger.

The old man that knocked Dabi out spoke, “Didn’t I tell you earlier that it’d be in your best interests to stay put? Hikiishi Kenji, Sako Atushiro, Iguchi Shuichi, Toga Himiko, Bubaigawara Jin, L/N Y/N. With little information and time, the police officers worked through the night to determine your true identities. Do you understand? There’s nowhere left for you to run.

“Hey Shigaraki, can I ask you where your boss is?” The old man finished. 

You rolled your eyes. Always running their mouths, always grandstanding… I hate heroes. 

When All Might questioned Shigaraki, he began to spiral. You itched to reach out and comfort him before he went too far. Nausea built up in your throat.

Black pools popped up all around the bar, and Nomus began to spill out—sending the heroes into a panic. When one of the pools erupted from Bakugo’s mouth, All Might rushed to grab him, but wasn’t fast enough and shouted in frustration when he disappeared.

You realised the nausea wasn’t from your anxiety as soon as you, and the rest of the League, started to gag up the strange substance as well. It swirled around each of the members, and you all disappeared as well. 

You had teleported to a destroyed section of a building, with Boo and Nugget appearing as well. You tucked Nugget into your shirt and Boo under your arm, then scrambled to Dabi’s side. “Dabi, Dabi, wake up, please!” Your voice was strained from panic and the pain caused from the hero’s binding having been too tight. You registered that All Might had arrived, and that Shigaraki’s Sensei was preparing to fight him, but ignored everything around you—until red vines shot out from his fingers and into Kurogiri, waking him back up. 

“Kurogiri, get everyone away from here.”

Magne rushed forward. “Hey, wait! He was defeated and is now unconscious! I’m not sure what’s going on, but if you can use Warp, then you should get us away!”

“I just got mine, Magne. On top of only being able to transport short distances, unlike his coordinate transport, I can only bring people to or away from me. I can only send them away to someone I am very familiar with. So I’ll have Kurogiri do it. Forced Quirk Activation!” The mist covering Kurogiri exploded into a warp gate. “Now go!”

“What about you…?” Shigaraki protested.

“Think constantly, Tomura,” All For One said as he rose into the air. “You still have much more room to grow.”

“Sensei!” 

“Shigaraki, we need to leave,” you begged, biting back a groan of pain as you stood. You held on tighter to Boo to make sure she wouldn’t wiggle away.

Compress agreed as he used his Quirk to shrink Dabi. “While All Might is being held back, get your piece! Y/N, you need to go—you can’t fight, and that guy’s vines hurt you. Take Dabi and get through the gate. Do you need help moving?” He pressed the blue marble into your free hand.

You shook your head. “No, I can manage. Thank you, Compress.” You smiled, though it was more of a grimace. “Make sure everyone gets out safely, please.” 

With Boo, Nugget and Dabi safely on you, you stumbled through the warp gate, leaving the sound of fighting behind.

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 7

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 5.4k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, a lot of emotional turmoil, talk of pregnancy scares (birth control, contraceptives, etc.), implied discrimination towards sex workers (not by any of the boys dw), mentions of sexual acts

slowly hands you a cake that says "I haven't updated this fic in 14 months and I don't know when the next part is coming but here's an update thanks for being patient" in comic sans

-------

The rush to the hospital goes by in a blur of tears and shouting and panic and questions that you can't bring yourself to answer. The only constant is Min Yoongi's hand, firmly locked in your own throughout the ordeal, tethering you to reality.

You now sit in a private room on a sterile medical table and wait to be seen, too numb inside to feel the sting of the cold metal as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Yoongi stands beside you, still holding your hand, his fingers are laced through yours and squeezing as if it could sap away the fear that eats away your insides, leaving you hollow and empty.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry about a damn thing, okay?" He shifts his weight anxiously, betraying his own underlying worries.

You barely remember him throwing his jacket over you before being rushed out of the house, and you don't feel deserving of the modest coverage. Though the leather is worn and soft against your skin, all you can feel is the harsh metallic zipper, scratching at your chest as though reminding you of your wrongdoings.

"Yoongi…" you start to say, but he cuts you off, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Don't you fucking dare. Don't apologize."

You feel tears well up in your eyes. Your chest grows tight with the words he's forbidden you to say.

"I've already called Namjoon, it'll all be fine. Don't worry." He works his jaw and rubs your hand with surprising tenderness, glancing to the little window in the door every other second.

He's been assuring you with those same words for the past half hour, but it feels like it's been an eternity. As you glance at the clock on the wall, watching the hands tick by, you imagine a scene like that of a health documentary. Tiny sperm, swimming up your insides… fertilizing your previously dormant eggs.

Fuck. You've fucked up.

You might be pregnant with Min Yoongi's child. Your Opticon birth control implant could send you into toxic shock at any moment.

You don't see how things can get much worse than this.

The door finally opens, and what appears to be a nurse steps inside. She holds a clipboard, and examines it while she lets the door close behind her. "Let's see now, Miss..." Her shoulders slump marginally as her eyes reach your name. "Oh, right. The PhysCom."

You don't have the energy to ignore the change in her tone from friendly to disinterested, and simply nod. However, you feel Yoongi stiffen beside you.

The nurse lets out a brief sigh and dons a professional expression. "So, what appears to be the problem?" She directs the question to Yoongi.

"We think her birth control implant isn't working." Yoongi explains, his eyes darting furtively between you and the nurse. "She, um… she reached orgasm."

You flush at the memory, ashamed of your failure to adhere to even the most basic of rules set before you.

The nurse makes a noncommittal noise and jots something down. "Says here it’s an Opticon. And you didn't turn it off, sir?"

He shakes his head.

The nurse touches the end of her pen to her mouth, a note of sympathy forming in her eyes. Not for you, but for Yoongi. "How long have you had her?"

"Excuse me?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

The nurse tucks the clipboard under her arm, giving him a weary, patient smile. “With PhysComs, we have a list of probable scenarios we’re supposed to check for, to better inform the doctor of the situation, and speed along the treatment process.”

She barely spares you a glance before returning her attention to Yoongi, her voice lowered just a fraction. “It’s not uncommon for newly hired female PhysComs to try and… well, intentionally get pregnant from their clients. Especially if those clients have any amount of wealth or status.”

Yoongi seems lost for words.

She nods as if to agree with his surprise. “It’s some psychosis associated with the job,” she says with a shrug, then straightens her posture once more. “So has she been acting strangely at all? What are her symptoms?”

Your ears burn a bit at being talked about like you’re not in the room, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been in such a position. Oftentimes checkups during training were the same way, the physicians would speak exclusively among themselves and Madame while they examined every inch of you, inside and out.

Yoongi, however, is not used to such an experience.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He says, in a voice much calmer than you would have expected. But one glance at his face tells you all you need to know. His eyes are burning like hot coals. Molten and dangerous.

The nurse doesn’t pick up on his irritation, and busily flips through the pages on her clipboard. “I need reliable information, sir. If you please,” she prompts him.

You can feel Yoongi’s hand clench around yours, and you turn to quiet him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hoping to reassure him enough so he’ll talk to her, but he stands his ground, his eyes glued on the nurse.

“Get out,” Yoongi says.

The nurse does a double take. “Excuse me, sir?”

“I said get the fuck out of here.” He points to the door. “Send us someone who will actually help.”

She fumes silently for a moment, but decides not to argue with him, and heads for the door in a huff.

Yoongi scoffs as you two are left alone once more. “What the fuck kind of bedside manner was that supposed to be?” He mutters, staring at the door.

“It’s okay.” You place a hand on his arm.

“No, it’s not.” He’s adamant, and you sigh wearily. How do you explain that this is only what can be expected?

You pick out a few haphazard words from the maelstrom in your brain, too tired to find the best phrasing. “Medical personnel… they don’t really get it.”

“Get what?” He asks, turning to you in outrage. “Being a fucking decent human being?”

You flinch, withdrawing your hand. You’re too tired to try and get your point across. But he notices you wilt and immediately comes closer, lowering his voice and placing both his hands on your arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the edge of anger fading away to gentleness. Kindness. “What do you mean?”

You sigh, looking off to the side. You don’t deserve to have him look at you like that.

You carefully remove his hands, trying to maintain some semblance of a professional distance, even in the face of disaster. “Most hospitals don’t look favorably at PhysComs. We were given a few lectures about it in training. We use up their resources and time that could instead be given to patients who didn’t willingly put themselves at risk.”

You remember how your fellow trainees had reacted after those discussions. Many of them found the treatment to be unfair, but you yourself felt that, in a way, the medical field’s viewpoint was reasonable. Your choices are what landed you here.

“What the- what are you talking about?” He huffs, still seemingly in the dark. “You didn’t ask for this… this scare. It wasn’t your fault.” He tries to meet your eyes, but your gaze is fixed firmly to the linoleum floor.

A mirthless smile paints your lips. “But I chose this life. And these risks along with it.”

Before he can question you further, the door bursts open and Kim Namjoon enters the room, both his dress shirt and his hair are rumpled, and his eyes are frantic. “Sweetheart?” He rushes to your side and crushes you in a hug. “Are you alright?”

You hear Yoongi let out a breath of relief. “She’s okay, for the moment.”

Something about the way Namjoon holds you feels like a lamp being held against your cold skin. You’re too damp inside to light a flame yourself, but his own body warms you from the outside in the meantime. You want to let yourself enjoy it, but the memory of your unresolved questions leaves you limp in his arms, filled with nothing but misery and confusion.

He pulls back after a moment, checking you over for signs of injury. His eyes are wide with concern. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

A flare of shame rises up in you at the notion of telling Namjoon about your rule-breaking and everything that occured since this morning.

Thankfully, Yoongi seems to sense your hesitance, and he fills in most of the pieces for Namjoon. Namjoon’s expression remains stoic as Yoongi recounts what happened - you being brought home unconcious, seducing Yoongi - up until the mention of your orgasm. Namjoon’s jaw slackens slightly at this, and his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

It’s at this moment that the doctor walks in, a different nurse at his side. He’s a slightly older man, a few wrinkles creasing his brow, and a smile that appears kind until it lands on you. His face is then tinged with that same indifference that most medical professionals give you.

You wish it was your usual physician, but since this was an emergency, you didn’t have time to take the trip to your usual practice. Whatever hospital is nearest, that’s what Yoongi had told the driver.

The man turns to Namjoon, who arguably commands more presence than Yoongi, and the kindness returns. “Sorry for the delay. Busy night. From what I understand, your PhysCom has malfunctioned, is that correct?”

“Her Opticon malfunctioned, yes.” Namjoon corrects him. His diplomatic tendencies are a blessing right now. You just want to know if you’re pregnant or not. You want to know if you’re losing your job. You want to go home.

The doctor runs a few physical tests on you, feeling your breasts, peering down your throat, and examining your vaginal canal, checking for any other symptoms of malfunction from your Opticon. “All’s well so far.” He says, pulling his forefingers out of you, snapping off his gloves, and disposing of them. “May I take a look at the ComGear?”

You feel a flash of panic, waking you out of your stupor. Fuck, was it still in the group chat? You pull out the slim device, heart hammering as you check. Nope. Just settings. Thank god.

You hand it over, and then remember with a looming feeling of dread exactly why it might have been left on the settings page...

“You do so much for us, jagiya.” Taehyung keeps his hands braced on your arms, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. “You’re always there for us. Always giving… Now it’s time for you to receive.”

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-” Jimin’s eyes fall to your compromising position, Yoongi’s dick still out, your leaking core exposed, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks like he might cry. “Oh no...”

The pieces fall into place, and there’s no doubt in your mind. They must have switched it off.

But why? Why, why, why…?

The doctor - you’re too frazzled to read his nametag - pulls out a pair of reading glasses and takes a look at your ComGear, poking around the device with his pointer finger. “Hm. Strange.” He squints. “The Opticon does appear to be switched off.”

Namjoon blinks. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid that’s the case.” The doctor shows him the setting, the toggle very much in the off position. Namjoon takes the device and looks at it in shock.

The doctor coughs. “I know that, um… for some individuals, the temptation and the… risk associated with no protection during intercourse can be sexually arousing. It’s not the first time we’ve gotten a case like this.”

He removes his glasses, folding them back into his pocket. “However, I would remind you and anyone else who uses this one’s services that although Physical Companions may be virtually expendable, it can become quite expensive for your own sake to impregnate them on a whim, using and discarding them, what with the standard fees for breaching their contract and-”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Namjoon interrupts him, and you notice the iron grip he now has on Yoongi’s arm. Likely the only thing restraining him from throwing a punch. “We’ll be more careful.” Namjoon glances at you, confusion making a little crease between his brows. “Is there some sort of morning after pill she can take, or…?”

“I’m afraid the lingering effects of the Opticon implant render any outside hormone blockers ineffective.” The doctor says, his smile turning thin. “It’s a bit of a blessing and a curse. The hormone production and ovulation suppressant in the Opticon normally make the chance of fertilization zero percent while in use. After it’s switched off, chances are still fairly low at 30 percent, for up to 24 hours. But the chances of fertilization after taking a morning after pill are significantly lower than that, at only five percent.”

He shrugs. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Chances are, your PhysCom will be right as rain and ready to pleasure clients again in about a week.”

A week.

First a week of suspension on Namjoon’s terms… Now it’s on medical advisement.

“A week? What should we do until then?” Namjoon voices your very thoughts, Yoongi seething silently beside him.

“Well, we won’t have any results until three to five days from now.” The man clarifies. “But I highly recommend you leave the implant switched off and keep her on traditional contraceptives until we know for sure. I strongly recommend utilizing other PhysComs in the meantime, just to be safe.”

You’re finished.

The doctor hands Namjoon a paper bag, most likely containing birth control pills and condoms. “She may be somewhat volatile for the next few days. You can bring her in for another checkup in a week.”

You’re weak.

“Thank you.”

You’re numb.

-------

It was a silent car ride back to the house, and as Namjoon helps you step out of the vehicle, one hand holding yours for stability while the other rests on your lower back, you can’t help feeling utterly useless. Detached from your surroundings.

What’s the point of any of this now? There’s no way they’ll want to use you until this is resolved. You’re of no use to them as a sex toy until at least a week from now, and by then it’ll be far too late to earn their favor back.

“We need to have a meeting. Call the others into the living room.” Namjoon speaks to Yoongi in an undertone, and you feel a small ache of hope. Maybe things will work out if everyone just talks to each other.

But when you enter the house and Namjoon begins to steer you upstairs, you finally find your voice.

“No.” You resist against him, turning around at the base of the stairs. “No, I want to be part of the meeting.”

The surprise quickly fades from his face, instead turning to concern. “You need to rest."

Something about the look on his face, about being told yet again through his actions that this doesn’t concern you, it causes something inside you to snap, your apathy vanishing in the wake of this new beast beginning to rear its ugly head within you.

Your throat closes up and a scream erupts from your aching chest. "You don't know what I need!"

Namjoon matches your desperation with an infuriatingly patient look of sympathy. He approaches you, his hand outstretched, but you stagger back away from him. He smiles sadly and drops his hand. "Stay here. It's what's best for you."

What's best for you.

The words throb in your mind, like the memory of an old wound. They bounce listlessly off the walls of your grandiose prison long after Namjoon shuts the door, sealing you away again.

You don't know what comes over you as you see visions of launching yourself at the door, pounding and scratching at the wood like a wild animal.

You could just open the door and follow him downstairs. Some part of you does register that.

But you want them to hear you. You want them to hear you rip your throat raw as you exorcise your demons.

You blink and you're standing still.

You haven't moved.

Your spacious room feels stifling. Like the walls are closing in on you, suffocating you.

Silken ropes sway in the dusk, catching your eye from beyond the balcony window. Your escape route from earlier that day.

You don't think twice before stuffing a few meager belongings into the long forgotten backpack kicked beneath your bed.

You need to leave this place.

You can't stay here.

-------

It had started drizzling not long after you left the house, and even now as you sit on the damp curbside, waiting for the next bus to take you far away from this place, it strikes you as funny, in a way, that the weather is crying for you, since you can't muster any tears of your own.

It's cold and misty, a foreboding atmosphere, by all accounts. It makes you question if what you're about to do is the right call.

But you shut down the arguments in your head as quickly as they appear.

Second guessing was what had gotten you into this situation. You need to follow your instincts.

And your instincts are telling you to flee.

It won't be so bad, you try to convince yourself. After the first night on the road, you'll eventually find a new town, a new home, a new place for yourself in this fucked up world. You've done it before, you can do it again.

You're considering suitable aliases for your new persona, when you sense another person approaching, their shoes tramping through the wet grass.

You don't look up at them, hoping they'll pass by and leave you alone. But they come to a stop beside you.

You keep your gaze on the road, droplets rippling the puddled potholes.

Then the stranger goes to sit on the curb too, and you can't help but look at them.

You'd recognize those lips anywhere, even beneath a baggy hooded sweatshirt.

"It's a bit late to run errands, don't you think?" Seokjin says, pulling his sleeves down to keep out the chill as he perches beside you.

He glances at you, then looks ahead at the road, the same way you were. You return your gaze forward, too exhausted to make a run for it. Though you don't get the sense that he would chase after you, even if you tried to escape.

Maybe that's exactly why you decide to stay put, but you don't give the suspicion any more thought.

"What do you want?" You finally ask, your voice croaky from being silent for so long.

"Nothing."

"Liar," you mutter, hugging your knees to your chest. "Everyone wants something."

He chuckles. Rests back on his hands. "I guess you're right about that."

Damn right you are. You didn't study the human condition through your years of training to be fooled so easily by pretty words.

"So?" You prompt him, still staring at the dreary horizon.

He takes a moment to respond. The silence is punctuated by the distant noises of traffic, an occasional car passing by, its headlights shimmering in the mist before disappearing down the road.

“The others are all out looking for you, you know,” he says simply. “Why do you think that is?”

If it were anyone else that had run away - their manager, a friend - you know what the answer would be. Because they care about that person. But how can you believe that about yourself, when you know you can never amount to anyone with that level of importance to them?

Ironic, since you’re the person with which they can be most intimate and vulnerable.

“I’m a liability,” you reply halfheartedly.

His silence serves to confirm your suspicions. A runaway PhysCom? Far too risky for a group at their level. You could become one of those anonymous sources like you saw in the news. A firsthand account of the BTS members’ secret sexual urges. Unacceptable. Snatches of words from the NDA you signed buzz around the edges of your mind like stray flies.

But since you're no longer connected to your network, then your tracker is probably disconnected. If the bus had come just a little earlier, you might already have escaped without a trace.

“You really think that’s the only reason?” Seokjin’s voice pulls you back to the moment.

His abysmal attempt to divert from the problem gets a hollow laugh out of you.

“Any other reason has ulterior motives. It’s just business.” You check the time on your ComGear. The bus should be here any minute. “I’m leaving, and I won’t let you stop me.”

“I don’t intend to,” he agrees, to your surprise. “God knows you’ve been put through enough.” He then leans forward, resting his forearms across his legs. “But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Your ears perk up at this.

Seokjin seems to take your silence as permission to continue. “The reason we decided to suspend you. It wasn’t… entirely selfless.”

You purse your lips in irritation and fix your gaze upon the horizon, settling your chin beneath your crossed arms. “Right. Ulterior motives, like I said.”

He clicks his tongue. “Touche.”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“So, what… were you planning to replace me?” You ask, trying to sound contemptuous. “I heard you all having your little group meeting in the kitchen. There are plenty of shiny new whores at your disposal, take your pick.”

He still makes no noise.

You wait, preparing to accept a bitter confirmation of all your fears.

But then he finds his voice. “We could never replace you, dear.”

You stop. Look over at him. His eyes are half lidded, his smile bittersweet as he stares off into the distance. After a few moments, he fishes around in his pocket and pulls something out, then hands it to you.

His smartphone.

“Here,” he murmurs, sympathy in the quirk of his lips. “In case you need to call anyone. Those devices they give you don’t have a cell plan, I assume.”

He seems to sense your wariness, and waves the phone a bit in a gesture of insistence. “I can buy a dozen new ones. It’s no trouble.”

You very hesitantly take it. “Thanks.”

Of course, he has no way to know that your ComGear is now jailbroken, for all intents and purposes. But… is this a trap? What if there’s a tracker in the phone? But why would he need to put a tracker in it if he doesn’t know your ComGear is off the grid?

The rumble of an approaching motor pulls you out of your cyclical thoughts, and you get on your feet, slowly coming out of your dissociative sulk.

But you still feel numb. Nothing matters anymore.

Nothing at all.

Jin gets up along with you, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Stay safe, alright?”

You give a brief nod of acknowledgment, only half in his direction as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder more securely. The hydraulics of the bus screech as the vehicle comes to a stop and lowers slightly, allowing you to step onboard.

You glance back, fully expecting Jin to stop you. But he doesn’t. He blinks raindrops out of his eyes while you board, and gives you a small smile once the doors close behind you. He lifts a hand in farewell, then turns and starts to walk away down the street.

He’s really letting you go.

You pay your fare and find a seat towards the back of the nearly empty bus. Rain pelts at the windows, picking up in earnest, and it feels like yet another layer, another barrier, separating yourself and creating an ever-growing chasm from the life you knew up until yesterday.

You pull out Jin’s phone, staring at the dark screen and wiping away stray raindrops from the surface with your sleeve. Why had he come to find you, if not to stop you?

“But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Maybe he felt guilty. Or remorseful for the hell you’ve been put through recently. You would normally have felt immense satisfaction at such a thought.

But you can’t feel much of anything right now.

You don’t think you’ll be able to feel properly again. At least not for a long, long time…

Hm? The screen lit up. You must have pressed a button by accident. You swipe at it again, and to your surprise it unlocks. Who doesn’t put a passcode on their phone?

Is it possible… he disabled it before he gave it to you? Maybe. Whatever. You’re so tired of thinking, playing investigator and second guessing people’s motivations.

You scroll over to the phone icon, and tap on it, briefly considering calling your parents. But the wetness on your fingers messes with the touchscreen and you open the messages app instead.

You’re about to wipe the screen and try again, but… the most recent messages are… all about you. You tap on the group chat among the seven of them, currently bustling with activity.

[ Kim Namjoon ]: has anyone found her [ Park Jimin ]: hyung I’m so sorry [ Park Jimin ]: it’s all my fault [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not at the studio [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’ll talk about it later Jimin [ Kim Namjoon ]: everyone keep looking [Jeon Jungkook]: manager said they can call her network to track her down [Kim Taehyung ]: should we do that? [ Jung Hoseok ]: no! she could get in trouble :( [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not a stray pet [ Kim Namjoon ]: exactly [ Kim Namjoon ]: we need to keep this quiet for her sake [Kim Taehyung ]: she hasn’t replied to my texts or calls [ Min Yoongi ]: me neither [Jeon Jungkook]: hyung... will she be okay? [ Kim Namjoon ]: everything will be fine don’t worry [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’re going to fix this somehow [ Min Yoongi ]: whatever it takes [ Jung Hoseok ]: where could she have gone... [ Park Jimin ]: what if she doesn’t come back?

You scroll further up, past days and weeks and months of texts between them… not even a day between mentions of you. Wondering if you’re alright. Hoping you’ve eaten enough. Wanting to do more with you.

The thread of texts Jimin sent to Seokjin just yesterday.

Hyung I wish things were different I want to hold her I want to tell her she’s enough I wish I could kiss her… I think I love her Do you ever feel that way?

And Seokjin’s reply.

I do I know just what you mean Why do you think I turned those secondaries away last night, hm? No one can compare She really is special…

He didn’t… fuck the secondaries? After you broke at dinner, he… didn’t...?

You switch to his thread with Namjoon from a few days ago.

I know you’re our leader but I don’t think this is the way to go You need to be more cautious

Namjoon’s reply.

What we need is action, hyung If we work together on this, we could get rid of these unnecessary rules We could all have what we want Including her It’s what’s best for everyone

Seokjin took several minutes to reply.

You’re going to lose her.

Jin knew. He tried to talk Namjoon out of writing that stupid essay, or maybe it was about your suspension.

Either way, he defended you.

You open his thread with Hoseok. Dimly, you recognize that you shouldn’t be snooping, but you’re too absorbed to stop.

Hyung, I think she really wants this All of us ♡ I don’t know how, but we need to show her that it’s okay That we want it just as much

How do you know that’s what she wants?

I can’t say ♡ But I know now She wouldn’t reject us Our feelings She feels something too

The date and time lines up with this morning. The morning after he made love to you.

He didn’t tell them. He kept your secret.

“Our feelings”? What does he mean? Him, Jimin, Taehyung… Seokjin? Do they all…?

Your head spins, the hollowness of your heart filling with a rush of jumbled emotions, like a tide crashing in. All your numbness is washed out with light, just a pinprick at first, that grows rapidly into a ray of warmth as you consider what all this could mean. The chasm starts to narrow, and you get the urge to jump ship, to turn back and figure this shit out. To know once and for all what they want from you. What you mean to them.

But how can you trust this isn’t a trap? How can you be sure?

The answer is as simple as they come.

You can’t.

You can’t be absolutely certain that their intentions are pure… that this is the right thing to do… that you won’t be hurt again.

But maybe... trust isn’t about being infallible. Being right. Being sure.

Maybe it’s built on what ifs. On trying again, even with no guarantees.

Guarantees are only as good as their word, and talk is cheap. Lies are easy. Your Opticon had a 100% guarantee, and look where that got you.

But you remember the way Hoseok held you that night, and made love to you like you’ve never felt in your life... When Jimin kissed his way down your body, with only the best of intentions. Namjoon’s strong arms embracing you when you felt powerless. Yoongi’s hand never leaving yours, even while you waited in the hospital. Jungkook carrying you home after you fainted, breaking your door to make sure you were safe in bed. The look in Taehyung’s eyes when he finally kissed you, breaking the ice you’d been growing around your heart.

How Seokjin let you go.

Maybe...

You get up with a start, rush to the front of the bus, and hastily ask the driver to let you off, much to the old man’s disgruntlement, but the moment the doors whoosh open, you take off at a run.

You want to go home.

You want to try again.

No matter how much you try to bury it, to forget the way they make you feel, you care about them. All of them. On a much deeper level than that of a PhysCom and client. And it scares you.

But you’re done running from fear. From uncertainty.

Now you’re running towards it willingly, as you give chase down the torrential streets, searching for that familiar hooded figure and hoping you’re not too late. You’re embracing the doubt, the fear, the uncertainty, the paranoia... letting their shadowy claws sink into you until they can’t hurt you anymore. Until they fade away, cowering under the glow of your determination.

You’re setting some new rules for yourself, no longer letting fear control your thoughts and actions, barring you from any chance of happiness.

You see Seokjin in the distance, trudging home through the pouring rain. You run faster.

You’re fucking terrified. But you’ve never felt so free in your life.

“Jin!” You shout to get his attention, still a block away. He turns around, and shakes his head, seemingly confused, but a smile starts to appear. You smile too.

Finally, you catch up to him, and without warning, you throw your arms around his shoulders. Damn, he’s always taller than you remember.

He laughs, shocked by your change of heart. “What are you doing?”

“I want to hear you say it.” You reply, looking up at him as rain dashes down your face. You don’t know when you started crying, but you’re grateful to the weather for masking your tears.

“Say what?” He asks, his hands resting on your waist to support you. Thunder rumbles in the distance, rain sliding down his perfect face.

“How you feel about me.” You reply, studying his eyes. “Be honest.”

He seems to sense the gravity in your words. He holds you closer. His eyes soften.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

For the first time since all of this started, you sense no deception in his words, no double meaning, no hidden agenda.

Because you aren’t searching for reasons to doubt this time.

You’re searching for reasons to trust, and you find them.

You want to kiss him. So you do.

[piecksz]

starstruck | (m)

pairings: rockstar!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, roughness, drug use, explicit language

words: 4.4k+

summary: you and your friend decide to sneak backstage at your band’s favorite concert and the vip treatment you recieve is more than you bargained for.

inspired by 

a/n: you know the drill :p obey (with YUNGBLUD) by bring me the horizon it’s literally not a sexy song so don’t go in listening to it expectin to get horny LMAOO it’s just the kind of sound i imagined eren’s band to have, but it was sexy to me bc the image of rockstar eren tormented me the entire time i wrote this 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this. This is fucking crazy.” Your friend’s voice was a fidgety whisper behind you. Her face’s close proximity to the back of your neck had her heavy expiration fanning over your nape every time she opened her mouth to reprimand herself for allowing you to beguile her into illegal trespassing.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she whispered again, tugging the leather sleeve of your jacket with a pesky grip.

You shrugged her touch off of your arm and took a brief glimpse over your shoulder to offer her a sour look. “Can you be quiet? You freaking out is making us look suspicious.” You whisked your head back around, peering around the corner of the vacant merch tent.

“No, us creeping around to sneak onto a fucking tour bus is making us look suspicious,” she retorted.

The corner of your mouth tightened at your friend’s concern and you lifted your hand to give her a dismissive wave. You were astounded when she had originally agreed to your brazen proposal, although it took minutes of incessant pleading for her to actually give in. Her veiled reluctance surfaced the minute you two had separated from the concert’s crowd at the end of the show and snuck around the stage to the back of the venue. What began as her unease and quiet suggestions that maybe your idea wasn’t so smart, intensified into irritating nagging. You gave her the option to turn around and wait for you back at the car, but as your companion, she sighed and remarked that something so stupid couldn’t be done alone.

“I see it,” you said eagerly and with a proud grin. The vehicle was stationed a decent distance from where the two of you had been standing, but you measured the stretch with your eyes and figured that if you walked quickly enough, you’d be able to make it on without being caught.

“How do we even know they’re on it?” Your friend craned her head past yours to get a better view of what you saw.

“We don’t. I’m just guessing.”

“Oh great, that’s exactly the answer I wanted.” She released a tense and quiet laugh before retreating back behind the screen of the tent.

You surveyed the security guards as they patrolled back and forth along the premises, waiting until the coast was clear. Once you noticed an opening, you forcefully grabbed your friend’s wrist, ignoring her silent grunt of protest, and pulled her along. She stumbled into your stride and peered over at you, doing her best to follow your quick feet while mirroring your nonchalant guise.

Closer and closer, the two of you neared the tour bus until it had to have been only yards away. You tried to remain composed through your excitement, making sure you didn’t break your character. No fucking way your plan had actually gone off without a hitch, it almost seemed too easy.

“Hey!”

You kept walking. Maybe the exclamation wasn’t for you, but once the holler was thrown again, your body went rigid, and the tempo of your steps slowed until you stopped in your tracks. The adrenaline that commanded your legs had been substituted for lead and it kept your feet pinned to the ground. You couldn’t even run.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be back here.”

You blinked once, long and hard, before pivoting on your heel. You watched, mortified, as a burly security guard started in your direction and got closer until he loomed over you both with a threatening advantage in height.

He looked even angrier now that you could see the way his thick eyebrows creased together and created a ripple of lines above them that disappeared into a bald head. His hefty arms were crossed against his chest while he glowered down at you two, waiting to hear a story. You could tell your excuse wouldn’t matter though, it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for jocular conversation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we were looking for the bathroom,” you explained, clasping your hands together and feigning an apologetic smile. You turned your head from side to side, looking around innocently to sell your lie, and then looked back up at the guard with a nervous laugh. “And I guess it’s not here.”

Your friend shook her head and said nothing, but you were certain she was drawing up a creative speech in her head, wondering how she would tell you that she “told you so” this time.

“Nice try.” The guard curled his lip angrily. “Come on.” He reached out a thick hand and wrapped it around your bicep while grabbing the back of your friend’s shirt with a crude yank. Your eyes went wide at his hostile grip and you jerked your arm, trying to free yourself of his hold.

“Hey, whoa!” His grip only tightened. “We can walk ourselves!”

The guard forced you two forward, prompting you to walk so he could escort you off the grounds.

“What’s going on?”

You looked up and your writhing ceased. Instead, heat flushed your cheeks and you stood dazed. It didn’t take long before you recognized the owner of the voice because, naturally, you would have been able to recognize him from a mile away, but luckily you didn’t have to. He was right in front of you.

It was Eren, the lead singer and guitarist of the band you had been screaming your heart out to not even an hour ago. He was your favorite member, meaning you’d watched countless interviews and had several pictures of him saved on your phone, but nothing could have prepared you for what he looked like up close. His long brown hair looked like it was still damp with sweat, a sign of his showmanship on stage, and it framed his face in careless wisps and fell loosely past his shoulders. His torso was unclad, showing the dark inkings that adorned his biceps and stretched all the way up his shoulders until they met at the detailed design of wings in the middle of his chest. Dark ripped jeans sat loosely, just below his hips, and teased a peek at deep v-lines that ran underneath the top of his waistband.

You fought off the urge to drop to your knees and pray for how sinfully hot he looked.  

Trailing behind him were his bandmates, Armin and Jean, the band’s other guitarists, and Connie, the band’s drummer. You had never seen such an attractive circle of friends where you would have been satisfied taking any of them, and although you avowed to your friend that Connie was hers since she favored him, you absolutely would’ve allowed him to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Caught these two trying to sneak onto the tour bus.” The security guard thrusted you two ahead with an unsatisfied huff, and you shot him a glare.

Eren’s attention dropped from the security guard’s face and drifted over to your friend first before settling on you, eyes sweeping over your face and falling at half-mast. He arched an eyebrow then averted his gaze from your chest.

“It’s cool, let them go.”

“Are you sure?” The security guard’s grip on you loosened, and you pulled out of his hold the minute you felt him unhand you.

Eren shrugged. “Yeah. They can hang.” He quickly dismissed the security guard and casually sauntered past you before disappearing onto their bus.

You glanced over at your friend who looked like she was still in the process of trying to grasp the situation evolving in front of her.

“What kind of assholes turn away fans?” Jean teased, giving you a warm smile before he lifted his half-empty water bottle to his lips.

Connie switched his drum sticks to one hand and slipped them behind his back into his pocket.  “You guys are fans, right? You’re not trying to steal a couple of used water bottles to sell online are you?”

You took a lengthy pause and waited for your friend to answer, giving her an opportunity to converse with him, but she said nothing. She just rocked back and forth on her feet, staring at the ground timidly to avoid looking Connie in the eye.

“No,” you answered for her. “I mean yes, we’re fans. Big fans. No to trying to sell your DNA.”

Your response earned a chuckle from Armin and a hearty laugh from Connie while he nodded in approval. “Alright.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bus as though encouraging you two on.

You watched as the rest of the members filed inside, and then your friend seized your hand frantically.

“Holy shit. Y/N, holy shit!” She squealed, and you snorted at her sudden ability to talk once again. “You saw him right? You saw him.” It didn’t take much detail for you to gather that she was gushing about Connie.  

“Did you even see him? Your head was down the whole time, you didn’t say a single word to him.”

Your friend’s animated face slackened into a placid expression. “I didn’t trust myself. If I opened my mouth I would have asked him to put me in a headlock.” She exhaled. “Jesus Christ, those arms.” Your goading smile stretched into an amused grin, and you shook your head at your friend’s hysterical behavior.

The inside of the tour bus was much larger than you would have deduced from its seemingly modest exterior. Its floors were dark and polished wood that matched the ceiling, both surfaces lined with subdued yellow light. Aside from the sizable kitchen to your right, large leather couches sat on either side of the lounge area, and stretching to the bus’ rear were dimly lit bunk beds that were half-obscured by a dark curtain.

“Holy shit, this is a house on wheels,” your friend breathed, mouth agape.

“Well we’re on the road most of the time, so it might as well be,” Armin answered, throwing himself into one of the sofas with a labored sigh. He threw his head back in exhaustion and brought his arms up to rest against the top of the couch. “We never caught your names by the way.”

Both you and your friend introduced yourselves, forgoing a proper introduction from the band’s members. You evidently already knew who they were.

Armin smiled. “Nice to meet you guys.”

Jean shuffled through, handing you and your friend a water bottle, which you accepted with much appreciation. You hadn’t taken heed of how thirsty you’d been, and you hadn’t had anything to drink since the concert had started. Even while you swooned in the crowd between sweaty bodies, dehydration threatening to ruin your fun, you’d refused to pay $4 for a beverage.

“Make yourselves at home.” He threw another bottle to Armin.

“Oh no, we’re not planning on staying that long.” Your friend laughed, clutching onto her drink so tightly that the plastic squeaked in her grip.

You nudged her in the ribs with an assertive elbow and said her name quietly through clenched teeth, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. She looked at you with uncertainty, and you gave her a forced grin.

“Don’t be rude. They said we should make ourselves at home.” You obliged to Jean’s invite, taking a seat in one of the leather cushions.

The situation you were in was a rare opportunity, the type of opportunity you’d only heard from other people, the type of opportunity you’d read fanfiction about in your early adolescence. If anyone told you that you’d be living such an opportunity, you weren’t sure if you’d really believe them, but had you declined to appease your friend’s irrational concern, you knew you’d regret it for years.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” Connie leaned against the wall of the bus and wedged a rolled stick of paper between his pursed lips. He brought a hand-held lighter to the end of the stick, sparking it a few times with his thumb before a small flame engulfed the thin paper and thick smoke billowed from its tip. It only took a moment before the pungent, herbal stench of marijuana invaded the inside of the tour bus.

“Of course, you guys are amazing.” You nodded, perching yourself up in your seat and clapping your hands together excitedly. “We’ve been trying to see you guys in concert for a long time now.”

Eren fell into the seat beside you, and your body tensed up almost instantly. You���d managed to feign calmness from your first encounter because it had been easy to masquerade your nervousness from a distance, but now that he was even closer, surely he could have heard your heart palpitating against your ribcage. Its beating grew even quicker once Eren sat back and slid his arm behind you to lay it atop the backrest.

“Yeah?” His voice was languid. “What’s your favorite song?”

“That’s a hard question,” you chuckled, suddenly becoming very interested in the sleeves of your jacket. “I seriously don’t know if I can pick just one.” It hadn’t been a hard question at all, but you simply couldn’t think through the smell of his faded cologne and the feeling of his naked chest up against the side of your arm.

“That’s cool,” Eren smiled, but responded plainly. “You smoke?”

Your eyes drifted up to see Eren offering you a partially-burnt joint in between two fingers. He inhaled deeply from his hit and exhaled, a thick white cloud rolling past his lips.

You hadn’t smoked before, and you weren’t an avid consumer of weed. One edible at a party had you manic until your friends had to calm you down in a separate room and reassure you that you weren’t dying, but you still accepted it hesitantly. You brought it to your lips and took a deep draw before erupting into a fit of coughs.

“Easy,” Eren laughed, and his warm hand rubbed the nape of your neck soothingly. He took the joint from your hands and held it towards Armin.

Your chest and throat heaved with the searing sensation of a foreign substance, and your body racked with an incessant wheeze until it was sure it had expelled all of the stuff. Eren beside you thought it was the funniest thing.

“So you guys in college?” Connie asked, this time directing his question to your friend since you clearly couldn’t respond.

She nodded quickly, still avoiding making eye contact with him. He must have noticed and thought it was endearing because the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a knowing smirk.

“Sick,” Eren remarked. “I dropped out of college, but you guys should stay in school, seriously.”

“Don’t worry I have no plans to drop out and become a musician,” you rasped once your coughing subsided.

He paused for a moment and then looked at you. “What about a boyfriend?” His eyes drank you in from bottom to top until he met your clueless stare.

“Do I have a boyfriend?” You blinked, and then the tip of your ears went up in an uncomfortable heat that spread over the side of your face until your skin was aflame with realization. “No.”

“That’s good.” Eren studied you from behind heavy lids and he lingered on your lips, his own spreading into a suggestive grin. “So it’s cool if I do this?”

He leaned in and affixed his lips at the curve of where your jaw met your ear. His mouth was hot and the kiss was wet against your feverish skin. He planted another one lower, against the hollow dip where your neck curved, and then he bent the arm resting behind your head, using his hand to turn your face toward him so that when he tilted himself forward again, he could kiss you without interference. His lips were soft and slow as they commanded your mouth to follow his rhythm, and you withheld a desperate and excited whimper once Eren slipped a seductive tongue past your teeth.

He relaxed another hand on your leg, rubbing slow circles into the top of your thigh while edging closer and closer to the top of your waistband. Once his leisure fingers skimmed over your pants’ button, he skillfully undid the first hole before moving on to your zipper. You made a small sound of protest and pulled back in embarrassment.

“In front of your bandmates?” you questioned in a breathy whisper.

Eren shrugged, looking unfazed. “They don’t care. Nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. He was a goddamn celebrity for crying out loud, had you really thought you were the first girl he brought onto the bus to fuck? And he’d done it in front of his bandmates? You shifted uncomfortably, looking to Armin, Jean, and Connie who were now occupied with showing your friend pictures they’d been sent from professional photographers after past shows.  

“I don’t know,” you admitted timidly.

Eren rolled his head to the side, visibly bothered by your response. He glanced over to his bandmates and swept through his locks with a lazy hand. “Hey, why don’t you guys go show her the stage set before they pack up?”

Your friend looked away from the laptop they were gathered around and over her shoulder. “But—.”

Eren’s fingers trailed up and down the side of your neck, clearly eager to resume your previous matters. Were you really about to pass up this chance?

You gave your friend a reassuring thumbs up alongside Eren’s suggestion. “I’ll come find you later.”

It almost seemed like Eren sent his bandmates an unspoken cue, because Connie quickly chimed in before your friend had another turn to object. “Yeah. It’s okay, we’ll take care of you.” He wrapped a tattooed arm around your friend’s shoulder and gave her a friendly shake.

You could almost see the rise and fall of her chest cease, and you actually grew worried for her. It looked like she had nearly died and came back to life, but her stunned face melted into a flustered smile and she laughed sheepishly. “Okay.”

Connie nodded and gave Eren a two finger salute before escorting your friend off the bus with Jean and Armin following closely behind.

Once the door to the bus closed Eren shifted his attention back to you.

“There. Problem solved.” His green eyes had darkened and clouded over with desire again. “You feel better?”

“I guess,” you murmured.

You didn’t get a second chance to speak because Eren’s lips coupled to yours once more, and his hands continued against your zipper before he slipped his fingers into your underwear. He brought two fingers to your slit, skimming lightly over the delicate skin before sliding his middle finger between your folds to part them.

You released a sharp gasp against Eren’s mouth as you felt the cold metal of his rings against your cunt, but he made no efforts to pull away. The earthy taste of marijuana on his tongue caused your head to swim and you began to feel the drug’s intoxicant effects yourself. Your limbs grew heavier as you lay slack against Eren’s body while the sensation of his soft strokes against your tender clit had you whimpering against his lips.

He dipped his finger down to your body’s orifice, sliding it into your hole to glaze the digit with your arousal.

“God, you’re so tight.” Eren’s voice was deep as he pulled away from your mouth and both of you looked down to watch the way he worked you. “I want you around my cock.”

Your hips jerked involuntarily against his hand with the mention of his desire, and he brought his touch back up to your clit, using your essence as lubrication. The bus was quiet except for the symphony of Eren’s husky pants and your lewd whines as he slowly quickened the pace when he felt your body begin to tremble against his.

“Fuck, Eren—,” you mewled. You hadn’t even given thought to how unusual his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Eren, the singer and lead guitarist of your favorite band had his fingers inside of your pants, and here you were moaning his name. “Oh fuck—.”

Your orgasm intensified quickly after its onset, you hadn’t even realized you were climaxing until your body was convulsing and your fingers were digging into Eren’s biceps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Eren—,” you cried.

“That’s it,” Eren cooed. “Atta girl.”

His fingers continued working against your clit until you wrapped a sweaty hand around his wrist, a silent plea for him to stop before he sent you into overstimulation.

He hummed in amusement and heeded your request before pulling his hands out of your underwear. Now he worked his hands against his own belt, unfastening the buckle before pushing his jeans down with his briefs in one swift and eager motion. His cock was half-hard and continued growing rigid after he took himself in his hand and began pumping his throbbing length.  

You watched in wonderment as his palm worked painfully slow against his thick shaft, and pearls of precum gathered at his tip before dribbling down his swollen head. Your own dirty fantasies where you’d tried to envision how big Eren was hardly did him justice.

You rose to your feet, kicking off your shoes with haste, and stepped out of your pants. You shrugged off your jacket as well, realizing how uncomfortably sticky your sweaty arms felt against the leather material.

“Come here,” Eren hummed, and released his cock. He held his hands out for you to take, and he pulled you onto his lap. He supported your waist until your knees were mounted on either side of his thighs, and you pulled your underwear to the side, allowing his pulsating tip to prod your entrance.

“You gonna show me how well you ride?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

You nodded, resting your hands on his shoulders and undulating your wet folds against his cock. You released a desperate whimper every time he nudged your clit.

“Yeah? Show me.”

Eren watched as you slipped him in, and what started as a whine deepened into an obscene cry while you felt him stretch your walls out. You eased down until you sat at the base of his cock and he’d filled you to the hilt.

You dug your teeth into your lower lip, waiting to adjust to his girth before you slowly started moving up and down. Eren’s shallow breathing encouraged you while you lifted yourself up and then back down, each time releasing an agonizing sob.

“Good girl.” Eren’s large hands traveled up from your waist and rested on your chest. “Just like that.” He loosely cupped his hands over your clothed chest, adoring the way your quickening pace caused your breasts began to jounce underneath your shirt, but your ache to feel his touch everywhere along your skin became uncontrollable.

Your fingers curled around the hem of your top and you quickly slipped the material off, tossing it onto the couch beside you. You did the same with your bra, too impatient to fumble around with the pesky hooks.

Eren grinned lazily, before resting his palms against your breasts and giving them a small jiggle. He leaned forward, lolling his tongue out, and flicked its tip against the hardening bead of your nipple. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and smiled at the way you murmured his name before rolling his thumb over the wet skin.

“So fucking hot,” Eren praised. He gave your other breast a brisk slap, watching it shake with the impact, and then he took you in his mouth. He sucked hungrily before taking your nipple between his teeth and tugged on it.

You continued bouncing on Eren’s cock before he released a guttural groan and threw his head back. “Fuck, don’t stop.” The tattoos along his sweaty chest expanded with each uneven breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

Eren’s hands traveled down to your ass, and black-painted nails dug into your skin while he directed you up and down. You rolled your hips against him until you felt his cock jerk inside you, and then he was filling you up.

Eren unloaded himself into you and your walls fluttered around his quivering length. His balls spasmed, making sure he’d jettisoned every drop of thick, white cum. He pulled his cock out before your knees gave way and you collapsed next to him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still adjusting to Eren’s absence, and you felt his release leak out of your hole.

You heaved, eyes strung tightly, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You had to have been dreaming. You kept your eyes closed, fearing that you’d wake, but they fluttered open instinctively when you felt Eren’s weight lift from beside you.

“Where are you going?” You watched as he tugged his pants up and fastened his buckle before shuffling around the bus looking for something. Jesus Christ, just how much stamina did this guy have?

“Your friend’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long,” Eren replied, disappearing behind the curtain leading to the bedroom in the back of the bus.

Your hand flew to your forehead and you sat up, feeling guilty that you had completely forgotten your friend. Knowing her, she was probably worrying herself sick wondering what Eren had possibly done to you. You started retrieving your clothes and getting dressed, but you paused momentarily, calling out to wherever Eren had been on the bus.

“I should give you my number.” You stuck a leg into your pants. “You know, just to keep in touch.” You stuck your other leg in and hopped around, pulling your pants up.

Eren reappeared from behind the curtain, tugging on a fitted black t-shirt. “Don’t worry about that.”

You popped your head out from under your shirt and reached for your jacket. You laughed lightly and gave him a confused look.

“Safety and shit. We can’t give our personal information out to just anyone.” He gave you a pitiful smile, but you could tell it was more for you than for him.

“Oh,” you responded quietly.

Eren seemed unconcerned with the guidelines he was given, as though he didn’t care much about whether he even remembered your name once they were on the road again.

“Don’t look so sad babe. You’re lucky.” He tilted his head toward you and raised his eyebrows. “Not everyone gets to fuck a rockstar.”

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically) 

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

--

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone. 

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it. 

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness. 

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.” 

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?” 

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them. 

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look. 

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features. 

“It might rain tonight.” 

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction. 

“You distracted me on purpose.” 

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing. 

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.” 

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth. 

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.” 

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?” 

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?” 

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.” 

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.” 

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.” 

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door. 

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force. 

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.” 

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--” 

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.” 

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse. 

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion. 

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.” 

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz. 

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.” 

He turns his head slightly. “You should.” 

“Too bad.” 

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.” 

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.” 

“A look?” 

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you���re compensating for something.” 

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?” 

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.” 

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.” 

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.” 

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came. 

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.” 

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off. 

“Like what?” 

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.” 

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?” 

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.” 

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.” 

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--” 

“Your upbringing makes sense--” 

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--” 

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.” 

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.” 

And then I keep reading. 

--

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag