#if you have 'shorten long posts' turned off i am so so sorry for this

[nexus-nebulae]

whenever i see hollow knight theorists talk about the grubs i almost never see anyone mention certain things that i always think about so i'm just gonna infodump and see if these theories make any sense? I'm going to be such a nerd about taxonomy and real-life bugs. also note that i haven't genuinely studied this shit in school, i am running purely on wikipedia and Autism™

First things first: they're grubs. They're larvae. They're not finished growing, and as we see from the charm they give, they metamorphose into some form of flying being. It's not clear what, but if the Elegy charm in any way resembles what a Grubberfly actually looks like, then they would seem to have multiple wings and a thick, tapered body (with no apparent legs). We also know that the process of being eaten by the Grubfather involves some form of metamorphosis- either of the Grubs, or even the Grubfather itself. You can even hear them making noise within Grubfather, meaning they're not dead (yet. we don't know if they Will Be Eventually).

most of the time "grub" refers to beetle larvae, but... moth larvae can look pretty similar. grubs and caterpillars are often mistaken for one another. the main thing that gets me is the legs- the legs of the caterpillar are typically a lot thicker and better for movement. whereas most grubs have thinner, typically segmented legs and often can barely even move around with them. We see the grubs in hallownest with relatively thick legs- most other bugs in hallownest just get black lines for legs- and they're able to move incredibly freely.

Now- there's a lot of types of bugs in hallownest, which means a large variety of larval stages. We've got moths, obviously, which are caterpillars. We've got mantises, which have no larval stage and instead hatch directly into nymphs (So, the Mantis Youth enemy is likely a nymph). Baldurs are like woodlice, or isopods, meaning intstead of larvae they have manca, which essentially look just like tiny versions of the adult (e.g., the regular Baldur compared to the Elder Baldur). Bee larvae are simple white grubs, which are typically sealed inside of the surrounding honeycomb until they metamorphose. Spiders hatch as spiderlings, which we see plenty of in-game (and, before the Lifeblood update, Deeplings would even actually pop out of eggs when broken).

We have flukes, which seem to moreso resemble maggots, or fly larvae. The tiny flukes we see at the entrance to Flukemarm are clearly the youngest of the larvae (despite the Flukefey being labeled as such in the Hunter's Journal- the larvae in the walls aren't considered an enemy type in the Journal, however, so were likely not considered). Despite the fact that the Flukes more often resemble worms, we know they are not, as some varieties have legs or wings. Annelids (true worms, like earthworms, leeches, etc) never have legs, much less wings. Meaning the flukes are most likely arthropods, and thus most likely are something close to flies.

And then we have creatures that are in completely different phylums to arthropods, such as the jellyfish (cniderians), snails and slugs (molluscs), and mushrooms (fungi. not even in the animalia kingdom).

But by far the most common type of bug in Hallownest are beetles. Beetles are some of the most diverse insects on the planet even in real life, and in Hallownest it's no exception. We see plenty of beetles based on real life- Dung Defender being a dung beetle, the Nailsmith being a rhinoceros beetle, Willoh being a giraffe weevil. Most other insects in hallownest mostly resemble beetles than other insects, with hard, plated shells and often visible elytra (the hard shell casing that covers the wings). Because beetles are so abundant, and because most other insect species in the game tend to keep within their own separated groups, "grub" most likely became the colloquial form of "baby" within Hallownest. Therefore, these Grubs might not even be grubs at all, but another form of insect larvae that was labeled as grub due to its similarity to beetle young.

We never see any direct inclusions of the young of the Moth Tribe nor the various beetles found around hallownest. There is only a single known caterpillar seen in-game, and that is Marmu. It is not known if she is connected to the Moth Tribe or not, however Marmu's design was based on a Puss Moth caterpillar, of which the real-world equivalent grow up to be similarly fluffy moths to the ones seen in the Moth Tribe. The visual similarity between Marmu and the Grubs is striking- and they even sound remarkably similar, meaning they could be of related species.

Now, back to actual Hollow Knight Lore™:

We know that the Collector is definitely related to the Kingsmoulds, as they are both made of void and have the same body template. All Moulds were made as servants to the king, and do not seem to have their own motivations or interests. The Collector, however, definitely has a personality, ranting and raving about how much it loves the Grubs.

The corpse holding the Love Key in Queen's Gardens is a Husk Dandy, or one of the high elite of Hallownest. It was clearly a high-ranking member of society, and may have had some connections with Lurien, or even the Pale King himself. The Tower of Love was most likely this Dandy's tower, and it was likely the one who began the collection of grubs, with the Collector as some form of assistant (thank you mossbag for this one).

Now, the Dandy's Dream Nail dialogue says "Too long spent together... we become as one...". This, paired with the black streaks around the Dandy's eyes as well as the Void particles seen around the corpse, leads most people to assume that the Collector being made of Void somehow started to physically affect the Dandy, leading to its death. But what if it weren't simply one-way? What if, somehow, the Collector started to mirror the Dandy- if the Dandy was enthusiastic enough about its work, then the Collector may have become obsessed as well due to this.

We also know that the Pale King was attempting to snuff out almost everything he could about the Radiance. The Moth Tribe were apparently born from the Radiance, either metaphorically or literally. While the Moth Tribe did reject the Radiance and follow the Pale King, some moths still chose to remember their old god, until, according to the seer, "all of Hallownest began to dream of that forgotten light". Somehow, this hushed worship of the Radiance could have led to the infection taking hold in the world.

From what I could find, it was not entirely clear if any of the Void experiments began before or after the beginning of the Infection. The Collector could have been created any time in between the creation of Hallownest to its fall- it could be an early, perhaps unfinished form of a Kingsmould- it could be a typical Kingsmould that was altered in some way- it could be a late, more adavnced form of Kingsmould with traits unlike the other more typical Kingsmoulds (for example, it has a voice, where seemingly no other Void being does whatsoever).

Another thing to note- it's not made clear what kind of power exactly the Elegy charm draws from. Because of the Grubsong charm's connection to Soul, one might assume it is also Soul energy, however the slash doesn't draw from the Knight's Soul meter and any charms that directly affect spells or Soul use (other than Grubsong) don't have any sort of affect on the Elegy charm when equipped together.

So, my theory:

The Grubs are actually caterpillars, created by the Radiance in her return to Hallownest. The Pale King, or someone underneath him, noticed the appearance of these bugs and decided to study them- that, or they already knew of the bugs' connection to the moths and thus decided to trap them. The Dandy was the one in charge of this, the head researcher who collected and researched them. The Collector was a Kingsmould gifted to the Dandy by Lurien (or even the Pale King himself) to help with research- and perhaps, if they knew about the Radiance connection, also as a form of extra security (The vessels were Void beings created to contain the Radiance. The Collector is a Void being who obsessively contains Grubs. There's a reflection there). The Collector may have even specifically been granted a voice in order to be able to communicate with the Dandy.

Over time, the Dandy and the Collector being around each other so much caused them to start to become one. Not just in the Dandy becoming somehow infected with Void, but also in the Collector's obsession with the Grubs. This ultimately led to the Dandy locking the Collector in the Tower of Love and attempting to run away with the key before succumbing to the Void in the Queen's Gardens.

Being an experiment specifically created by the Pale King and his court, the Collector likely had some form of "programming" by the court to complete its intended tasks. Unlike the Kingsmoulds' simple programming to Defend the Pale King, instead the Collector's would have been to collect or trap bugs. It could have even been the case that the Collector was the Dandy's field agent- going to collect the Grubs itself so as to not put the Dandy in danger. We can even see this in its attacks- it doesn't necessarily slash at you, but instead makes a grabbing motion. Perhaps the Collector was programmed to Contain and Protect, with protect applying both to the Dandy and the collected specimens (a dead grub is no use for research, now is it?). However, now there seems to be some sort of bug in the programming (pun not intended) where the Collector doesn't seem to distinguish between what it should or shouldn't collect- we see bottles of Vengeflies and Aspids and Baldurs, and even the player's Shade, but these are only ever found within the Tower of Love where the Collector is locked away. It's likely it was the Dandy's orders that told the Collector exactly what to collect, and without those it simply overdoes its programmed task.

Unfortunately, the Knight eventually comes along and destroys the entire operation before we can find out the real truths regarding the Grubs. Hopefully the Grubberflies aren't actually tiny Radiances.

#hollow knight #hollow knight theory #if you have 'shorten long posts' turned off i am so so sorry for this #that moment when you initially go to make a two-sentence post and accidentally write a multi-page essay instead- #i wanted to just post my little theory but then i actually thought about putting Research and Effort into it (something i rarely do lmao) #hollow knight and minecraft are the only two games that make me so autistic i research real-world science related to them #they are my favourite games in existence and i love them so much #side note i know this is probably a Very Very Wrong theory #i know game devs never put as much time or thought into game lore as an autistic guy with special interests who tears that lore apart lmao #but it's fun to come up with ideas especially when those ideas make the puzzle seem to fit together just a little more neatly #i don't have any confidence I'm right I just like to come up with ideas #feel free to comment theories and ideas too theorizing is nothing without discussion and debate #greatest hits

[fox-bee926]

3 times you and Anthony Lockwood caught each other sleeping, and the 1 time both of you said “screw it.” 

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

PART 4 (Finale)

 Hi y’all! So, I finally finished the last chapter of “Screw it,” as I am now shortening it to. I’m not sure if I’m going to change the title officially or just the title in the masterlist, but that can be figured out at a proper time of day. I wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as I saw it fit to post. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged the parts of this fic. You have no idea how much it all means to me, so thank you <3

Without further ado, I present to you: the fluff.

(Also, please cut me some slack on the House scene. Im not the best at writing fight scenes but im going to try and improve. :) )

TW: murder, abuse, momentary talk of abortion, more cursing than in previous parts, lack of communication, significant fluff.

Word Count: 3.5 K Taglist: @galactidiot

part one part two part three part four

“Guys, guys, guys, I figured it out!” The downstairs members of Lockwood and Co. were not sure you would survive going down the stairs at the speed you went. You half ran into the table, out of breath from zooming two flights of stairs.

Lucy held out her hands to steady you as you caught your breath. “Whatever you’ve figured out can’t be more important than not breaking your neck on the stairs, yeah?” You both gave out a laugh at that. George and Lockwood looked at you two from their places at the sink.

“Sorry about that, but this couldn’t wait,” Lockwood silently set down a cup of tea in front of you. “Abigail’s mother was pregnant when she killed her husband. That’s the reason she made the decision to kill him. She had her youngest child almost exactly 8 months after his death. Her doctor ordered a pregnancy test days before she killed her husband.” You sipped your tea and sent a look of thanks to Lockwood. He only turned and returned to George’s side.

George’s face scrunched together as he thought. “Even if you’re right, how does that help us figure out what the source is?” Your smile went wide as you held up a finger then ran off to the living room. 

“This,” you came back and set down her financial records on the table. “She made a significantly larger purchase than usual only days before the murder. I think they were baby things. Like diapers, toys, a crib, the whole lot.” Everyone, even Lockwood, looked at you skeptically. But then, George grinned.

“You think the source is something she bought for the baby.”

“It would make sense! If she killed her husband to get a better life for her future family, what better place to decide than looking at something that represents that future?” You looked down when they still looked at you like you were crazy. “I know it’s a long shot, but what else do we have?”

Lockwood pressed off from the counter and crossed his arms. “We can do a full sweep of the house again, check everything with a new perspective. Lucy, you said you couldn’t hear much, maybe it’s because we weren’t listening for the right sounds.” He patted George on the back, and grinned at Lucy. “We can go tonight. Better to get this over and done with, and move on.”

His demeanor seemed cold in some ways, despite the warmth he displayed for George and Lucy. Your intuition told you that something was bothering him, and you had a suspicion what it was. As he left the kitchen, you tried to catch him. Your hand brushed his forearm but he only maneuvered farther out of your reach. The feelings that were expressed last night had had quite the effect on both of you, apparently one more than the other.

____

“Alright everyone, stay sharp. We don’t want a repeat of last time.” Lockwood opened the doors of the house and you all went straight inside. It was decided that you and Lockwood would take one half of the house, Lucy and George the other. Thanks to Flo Bones, both teams finally had radios. Although you weren’t sure how much help they would be.

They had found out the husband had held a lot of pent up rage when Lockwood and Lucy had initially investigated the house. Lockwood became temporarily ghost-locked, and Lucy ended up getting literally thrown out of the house when she saved him. It was not an experience anyone wanted to repeat to say the least.

You always hated the sounds of a haunted house. Sometimes you were thankful for the sound of all the salt bombs and magnesium flares in your duffel bag. Though you weren’t so thankful when the ghosts found you ten times faster because of it. 

You and Lockwood wandered the halls of the house, checking each room. Your rapier was uncomfortably strapped onto your right side, with your tool bag hanging from your arm. While you couldn’t wield your rapier as well as you used to, you compensated for having a Listening talent that was on par with Lockwood's’ Sight.

Your footsteps echoed softly throughout the house. “Are we going to talk about this morning? Or last night?” Your voice was only just above a whisper when you turned to Lockwood. The only sounds you two could hear were the doors creaking open and the wind rushing through some of the open windows. You hated it. It was like the ghost was trying to bide its time. You thought of no better time than the present to have some mind altering conversations.

Lockwood returned to the hallway as you continued your path through the house. “No. We are not. Last night shouldn’t have happened. I was an utter fool, and-”

“Stop.”

“No, it has to be said, I shouldn’t have made things complicated-”

“Are you going to break my heart or actually fucking listen to me and stop talking?” Lockwood tensed up at that. He hadn’t seen it as breaking your heart, merely saving himself the heartache of rejection. But he reconsidered his decision when he saw the anger on your face, and the tears welling up in your eyes. 

You turned back around to face the next three doors in the hallway. Energy pulsed around you and suddenly there was no more creaking or rushing, there was just nothing.

“Someone’s crying. It’s coming from the room at the end of the hall.” You and Lockwood move slowly towards the door. Both of you were getting increasingly worried that there was no activity from the ghost, nor radio chatter from Lucy and George.

You entered the room. There was no furniture in the room, but it had an air of warmth. An air of comfort. The only sound Lockwood could hear was the movement of the curtains. But you heard differently.

“It’s Abigail. She’s crying. She’s just ran out of the room. Her mom yelled at her, but she didn’t mean it. This was going to be the nursery. All the baby items are in here. She feels overjoyed, but scared when she looks at them.” You walk slowly into the room as Lockwood listens and keeps watch. 

He knew how Listeners could get when a haunting was this powerful. Despite all the words he said to you, he is worried. You had invested yourself so deep in this case. Lockwood was worried that you wouldn’t like what you heard in this room. Be careful, darling. I don’t think my heart could take it.

You spoke softly, but the distance in your voice told him you were not fully present. “Now she’s crying. For a moment she considers ending it. She heard of home remedies for this particular ailment from her neighbor. But the rattle. The rattle was rolling towards her. The rational part of her mind said it was the wind, but it could be more. It was her child calling to her.” You sink down in the middle of the room, facing said window. You could feel the warmth of the sun on her face, despite it being the dead of night for you. “She knew what she had to do. She wouldn’t let another one of her children witness their fathers violence.”

As Lockwood sees you kneel on the floor, he starts to see the faint start of a death glow. “Darling, we have to hurry. We know what the source is now, we just need to know where to find it. I know you can do this, but hurry.” He had never had much worry for his own life in these situations, but for you he was terrified.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Shade of a small child crawl towards you. You made no movement, so he dove to swipe at it with his rapier. As soon as he moved from the doorframe, the door slammed shut. This was the ghost’s plan all along. 

He tries to go for the radio attached to his belt, but the ghost starts to fly towards you. Lockwood slashes at it but you look none the wiser. You both had been so absorbed in the situation that you had dropped the toolkit outside of the room. He realized all the two of you had were the bombs on your belt and your rapiers.

“Okay, come on now, snap out of it!” Lockwood threw a bomb at the ghost and the sound had you take in a gasp, coming back to the present. As soon as you processed the situation, you stood up and drew your rapier. 

“Perfect timing! Where’s the source?” Lockwood yelled as he heard banging on the opposite side of the nursery door from Lucy and George. This ghost was powerful, and he doubted they could get in without having secured the source first. 

“Draw it away from the closet, it’s under the floorboards so it might take some time.” 

“Do it, I’ll handle the ghost.”

You gave a quick nod and went to work. You pried the door to the closet open and started pulling on the floorboards. The ghost immediately noticed and lunged for you once again. You turned away from your efforts and drew your rapier, but you were too slow. The ghost pushed you back against the wall with its force. Fortunately, the impact had done a number on the floorboards and revealed the source. You just had to reach it. 

But you were still trying to bring the air back to your lungs. 

All you could see was the ghost hovering above you. As you tried to cough, you realized the ghost wasn’t just hovering over you. It had ghost-locked you. You could see Lockwood out of the cover of your eye trying to open the door to let Lucy and George through. Until he turned around and saw the ghost above you. He knew your fear stricken face would be etched into his mind, his nightmares, forever. He did the one thing he knew best to do. 

“Hey!” He threw a salt bomb at the ghost and waved his rapier mockingly. “No wonder your wife killed you if you’re hovering over other girls, eh?”

In hindsight, this was probably not one of his best plans, seeing as though taunting an angry Type Two was the only step of the plan he had thought out.

In a blink, everything happened so fast. The ghost screamed in a rage and went towards Lockwood. It took all your will not to run for him and defend him from the ghost, but you knew you had a more important job. You reached into your pocket to grab a small silver netting you had bought just for times like these. Before you could cover the rattle, there were two loud crashes. The first was Lucy kicking in the door. The second was Lockwood being thrown out the window. 

As soon as you dropped the netting on the rattle, the room became silent.

“We missed all the fun, didn’t we?” Lucy laughs, mostly out of surprise that you two were alive. But you were more focused on the groaning that came from outside. George advanced towards the secured source as you quickly got up and ran to Lockwood.

You reached out for his arm. His jacket and shirt were ruined, large cuts made by the glass were slowly oozing blood. Lockwood let out a quick “ow” when you squeezed his wrists far too hard. He realized you had the same look on your face as when you thought you were going to die.

He reached up and lifted your face from his arm. “Look, I’m fine. Just a couple of scratches.” Once you had processed his words fully, that fearful face was replaced by one of very harsh anger.

“I got the source properly contained. We should all get one of those pocket nets, that was quite handy.” George smiled, but Lucy grimaced when you stomped out of the room. Lockwood sighed and decided to just go around the house as he was already outside. 

“Those two don’t get it, do they?”

“Oh, I think they will soon.” Lucy walked over to George and placed the source in his bag. On the ground was a small piece of paper, aged by the water and mold that seeped into the old floorboards.

“To whom it may concern: I’m not sorry.”

___

Everyone sighed as they entered Portland Row. It was the only place they ever felt truly safe, at least from ghosts. Feelings on the other hand, no one was safe from. You put away the rapier at the door, and promptly went upstairs to your room. You hadn’t said a word to anyone on the cab ride back. Lucy sent a pointed look to Lockwood.

“You. Go talk to her.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, why should I talk to her?”

Lucy points an accusatory finger at his face. “I can see all over your face that even you don’t believe what you said was true. Now, off you go or you don’t get any of the biscuits George bought from the store.” She sends him a devious smile as she turns and walks to the kitchen.

Lockwood paced the hallway, considering his options.

Upstairs, you have never wanted to punch him more than you do right now.

___

You reach your hand under your bed and pull out your first aid kit. “Reckless, idiotic, suicidal...” You pause in your mumbling to open the kit and make sure everything has been newly stocked. “...irrefutably obnoxious, fucking insane-”

“I probably deserve all that.”

You gasped. Anthony leaned on the door frame, pointedly on the uninjured shoulder. “Lockwood! What are you doing here?” After you processed the initial surprise, it was almost as if you had to remember you were mad at him. “Shouldn’t you be out and about, being a martyr for every hopeless girl on the street?” Venom laced your voice, but he knew it was well deserved. “Plus, you said you had ‘made things complicated,’ so I’m making them uncomplicated.”

“Darling, I’m sorry.”

“No, no! You do not get to come in here with your smile, and your cut up arm, and your beautiful, pleading eyes, and tell me you’re sorry. Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you get thrown out of a window for the umpteenth time? Do you know how hard it is to sit there and watch you risk your life for mine?” The tears spilled over onto your cheeks. You let out a sob and bring your hand to cover your mouth, but quickly recover. 

Anthony had half a mind to wipe them from your face and stare into your eyes for the rest of his life. But he thinks that would be a bit too much to say right now.

You grab a tissue from your desk and wipe your eyes. You pointed to the bed vehemently. “Now, Anthony John Lockwood, you are going to sit right here and shut the hell up while I fix your arm, is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Your jaw clenches at how effortlessly charming he seemed, even when both of you look like you’re about to start sobbing.

“Good.” You work in silence as he settles on the bed, arranging the tools in the first aid kit so they’re easily accessible. “Take off your shirt. And if you have any mind about making a joke, be aware I have multiple things I can stab you with directly in arm's reach.”

His eyes move to yours as you both try to stifle a laugh. No matter what state either of you are in, you can appreciate a good dirty joke. You put on the latex gloves as Anthony unbuttons his shirt. He winces as he takes his cut arm out of the sleeve. “Be careful.” You mumble as you put ointment on the gauze in advance. 

The rest of the process is done in silence, other than a few sounds of discomfort from Anthony. As you finished taping the gauze down on his arm, he slowly reached up to hold your hand. It wasn’t like when he was dragging you on the streets of Portland Row to Arifs, or pulling you from danger. This was a boy, trying desperately to find words that neither of you knew how to say.

“When I called you my world, Anthony, I meant it. I would be nothing without you-”

“That’s never true, darling-”

“Would you let me finish for once? I amend, then: My heart would feel nothing without you. I was a girl trying to escape her home town for something new, and there you came. I didn’t know I could even feel these things before you,” You grasped his hand, gently rubbing your thumb against the back of his salt covered hand. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time you didn’t bother to wipe them. “I love you, Anthony Lockwood. No matter how much you push me away, no matter how many times you get thrown through a window for me, I love you. Before you leave this room, I need to know if you love me too.” You squeezed his hand, and then went to pack up the first aid kit. It was as if you hadn’t confessed your love to your employer, but more importantly, your friend.

It was silent as you walked over to your desk. You looked back, and Anthony just sat there. There was no megawatt smile, no fidgeting of the hands. Just you and Anthony, plain as could be. 

It was too much.

In an instant, you left the room. You heard the echoes of Anthony calling for you down the stairs, but you had to get out from the grasp of the stifling air in your room. You had taken the silence to be a refusal, but Anthony meant for it to be a scapegoat. He was waiting, almost begging for you to say it was all a joke. A prank to get back at him for being so careless. He couldn’t let himself imagine what you said to be true.

You went to the only room in the house that you could think was safe, the library. You closed the door softly as to not wake Lucy and George with your modest screams of frustration. You had bared your heart to him and he looked at you like you were a wall of drying paint. 

“Darling please, talk to me.” Anthony opened and closed the door behind him. You paced the short width of the library, not looking at him. 

He looked down in shame. His shirt was already buttoned back up, thank god, but it was haphazardly tucked. He fidgeted with the ring on his hand, not sure what to say. Not sure how to convey years of pining, yearning, love, into something so insignificant as words.

He whispered, cruelly, “How could you ever allow yourself to fall in love with someone like me?”

You turn your face towards him. Anthony thought it funny that it looked as if you had glitter on your face from the way the light hit your tears. He ought to compare it to the stars in the sky, but maybe at a later date.

You turn your entire body towards him. He wasn’t wearing his grand facade of confidence or wit. He looked like a man who would get on his knees to beg your forgiveness. You have never wanted to see him like this, nor want to again. 

“How could I not, Anthony?”

He crossed the room in a mere four steps. “Screw it,” and he kissed you.

His hands made their way to your waist, pulling you against him. He put every single ounce of love he had since the moment he met you into that kiss. Your fingers reached into his hair, pleading for him not to let go. 

Regrettably, you pulled away to catch your breath. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You laugh as Anthony smiles that lovely smile.

“No, not in the slightest.” He said softly as he cupped your cheek. Your laugh sounded throughout the room, and Anthony started laughing too. The hilarity of it all didn’t escape them, of course. Two teenagers, having grown up in a world where they were faced with death every day, were most stressed by how to confess their love to each other. 

There would be ghosts, nasty Type Two’s. There would be murderous people who were hell bent on destroying Lockwood and Co.. But for now, Anthony was content to think that the only sounds that existed were you two laughing. The only sight was your eyes crinkling with joy, and tears that were finally not of distress.

That night, you both learned that your love couldn’t easily be put into words, and that was okay.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood #xreader #fem!reader #fluff #so much fluff #fics by foxbee #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

[onyourowndaisymae]

Hello! If possible, could I request the Obey Me brothers + dateables and their reactions to an MC with dyscalculia? If not, it's totally fine!! I hope you've an awesome week <3 !!

obey me brothers + an mc with dyscalculia (pt. 1)

in order to get shit out in even a remotely timely manner, i've decided to now and in the future start splitting asks into two individual posts based on character group (brothers vs dateables/side characters). it was between that and shortening the posts and since i'd rather bite my own fingers off than put out content i'm not proud of, this is my solution! so let's call this part 1 to this ask. also sorry it takes me obscenely long to post i am a mess

content warnings: none

"Dyscalculia is a learning disorder that affects a person's ability to do math. Much like dyslexia disrupts areas of the brain related to reading, dyscalculia affects brain areas that handle math- and number-related skills and understanding." - Cleveland Clinic

Lucifer

lucifer is such a dad about this, like i cannot express this enough.

he knows you have dyscalculia before you even arrive in the devildom. he sees it on your paperwork before they pull you from the human realm, so he's already preparing the best strategies to assist you. he will, however, wait until you say something about it to make that information known.

he will make you bring your math homework to his office every night so he can check it. that is not optional. he doesn't care how much you hate it, because at the end of the day you need to pass. tough love, in a sense.

but, on that same note-- he's not actually mean about correcting your work. it's very odd. you'd expect big, bad, "i'll string mammon up from the ceiling on any given day" ass lucifer would be a brutal teacher, but he's really not. he knows that you brain simply does not work the same way as others, so he's extra particular about his explanations. he doesn't ever call you out in a way that makes you feel stupid. this proud demon never wants to make you embarrassed over something you can't control.

ideally, you'll come around on doing homework in his office every night. he thinks this is the perfect choice for both of you. his office is quiet and warm, with the soothing sounds of a crackling fire comforting you as you work. he can make sure any distractions (aka, his brothers) are completely out of sight until you're finished for the night. he'll also be right there in case you need any help-- he'll drop whatever he's doing and help until you're sure you've got the problem down.

lucifer is protective of this time together. it's the one time where he's certain he can do more for you than the rest of his brothers, and he's determined to prove you won't ever need to turn to them for help.

if you get overwhelmed with your homework, he's easy on you for the rest of the night. lucifer knows when to call it quits-- he'll slide your homework away across the desk and set a reassuring hand on your back. he doesn't speak as you get all your frustrations out, whether they be tears or anger. it's easy to forget that lucifer is actually an older brother. but in moments like these, full of quiet comfort as he carefully works you down from the ledge, you think maybe he's not so intimidating after all.

Mammon

oh, you're not good with math? join the club, bestie.

mammon takes an embarrassing amount of time to realize that you've got dyscalculia. like, a near impossible amount of time. you're not hiding this information from him. he's seen lucifer help you with your math homework, heard you talk about special accommodations for tests, hell, you've even said it aloud! this man would lose a spelling bee to a box of bricks.

you eventually ask him if he knows what dyscalculia is. he tries to play it off like he knows, but of course, he's not a great actor. you let him flounder for a little bit before choosing mercy and explaining the concept to him. it takes him a bit to understand that it's an actual learning disorder and you're not just making shit up to explain why you suck at math.

mammon prefers when you do homework together. in his head, he justifies this by saying he'll be close by when if you need his help. in reality, he'd probably do more harm than good to your grade. he spends most nights trying to coax you into working on homework in his room. at the very least, he'll be able to spend some alone time with you

reality is often disappointing. you do actually spend most nights doing your math homework together... at the kitchen table, while lucifer sits between you two and makes sure you get your work done in a timely manner. no talking, mammon, or he'll hang you from the stairwell by your ankles.

don't ask him for help. just... don't. you'll honestly do worse than if you had just tried yourself.

if you get overwhelmed trying to do your work with dyscalculia, mammon is right there by your side. you won't be doing anymore work tonight, that's for sure. he'll pull you into his arms, red-faced and sheepish, as he soothes your frustrations with gentle, murmured affirmations. you are so much more than this math shit, alright? don't forget it.

Leviathan

levithan simply won't pick up on something as subtle as your difficulty with numbers. even if he notices it, he'd never say anything. what if he's wrong? what if you feel bad about it? what if he offers to help you with that math homework you're struggling with three feet in front of him and you hate him for it? oh god, maybe he should mind his own business. what if he's making all these assumptions about you-- assumptions that you'd hate him for? he can't handle if you-- oh, what? you want to talk about it with him? haha, no worries. totally chill. levi's nothing if not totally chill.

you have to tell levi about your dyscalculia if you ever want him to know, or at least tell one of his more loose-lipped brothers. he's willing to talk about it if you are. but no matter how close you are, he would never bring it up first.

he's got passable grades. he'd probably do better if he applied himself, but honestly, he's far too interested in throwing himself into another anime or video game to dedicate much brain space to school. if you want to do homework with him, he'll probably opt to play a game on some handheld next to you to keep you company. he's extra considerate to keep his headphones on and stay quiet for you. he's just honored you want to spend time with him like this.

you want levi to help you with homework? are you sure? you don't want one of his smarter brothers, like satan or belphie or-- you're sure you want him? he's not convinced he's stellar at tutoring or anything, but he'll try. he brings out his own (rushed) homework and explains his thought process to you... funnily enough, helping you points out the flaws in how own work, which he can now fix before turning it in. helping you has quiet literally raised his grades in the long run.

if you get overwhelmed, levi is quick to panic. please don't cry. his best solution is to distract you. wanna watch him beat this level? wanna start an anime together to take your mind off of it? you guys end up wasting the rest of the night recreating the HoL and demon brothers in the devildom equivalent of the sims. so much for raising your grades together... lucifer is not happy hearing how easily both of you got distracted (but lets it slide when he realizes it was math homework you skipped).

Satan

satan is an observant fellow. he probably knows within your first month at RAD that you've got an issue with numbers. he might not know the exact diagnosis, but he can tell you're not nearly as confident with math as you are in other subjects. he notices you're more dodgy about anything to do with numbers. he had not intention to bother you about it, of course, but he'll watch with a bit of curiosity as you encounter these sort of situations-- he doesn't understand you, after all, and he wants to know why.

by the time you guys are on friendly terms, he'll offer to help you with any homework you might struggle with. satan gives no indication that he knows you're not the most confident in math. while he hates lucifer, satan still knows the value of pride and dignity in these situations. he waits until you approach him one night for help-- bashful, a little ashamed, all interesting emotions for him to witness up close-- and carefully guides you through the work. that's when he sees it. you have an odd way of interacting with numbers. there he notices little mess ups when counting, longer pauses mid-equation, how quiet you are as he helps you out... interesting. guess he'll have to keep assisting you for now.

when you do eventually tell him, he... i mean he basically flat out tells you he knew from the moment he watched you solve a math problem. hopefully that explanation doesn't upset you. it's just facts. one time you had to pay for something at a festival stall in cash... watching you try to calculate the combination of coins and bills you should hand over was painful.

he doesn't really mind accommodating your dyscalculia. you, at least, aren't just a dumbass with no explanation (like mammon, he's talking about mammon). satan will usually ask if you want his help before stepping in, out of courtesy, but usually prefers to handle number-related tasks himself. it just goes faster.

if you get overwhelmed with your homework, you'll see satan get really confused. he didn't think it was something that could upset you in that way. he'd sooner expect you to get pissed off and storm out, y'know? that he can relate to. he'll follow your lead on this one. what would make you feel better? if you want to power through, he'll do his best to explain everything as simply as possible. if not, he'll do something with you to take your mind off of everything.

Asmodeus

it's easy to write asmodeus off as some sort of surface-level ditz, but that's truly a disservice to the bubbly demon. he's still one of the most powerful demons in the whole realm, after all. but he's always been good at picking up those small details-- your dyscalculia is something that stumps him for awhile, but eventually, he figures out something is up.

the main problem is shopping. he'll often drag you along with him to majolish, either as a pack mule to carry his things or as a lovely little doll to try on every outfit combo his pretty little head can put together. the real issue came about as he tried to get your help calculating a running total for the items in his arms. see, asmo is quite good with numbers (new headcanon alert? honestly i'm into it i now declare asmo's a secret lil math whiz). so as he's adding up the prices, he'll shout numbers at you from another changing room and ask you for help. what's $74.36 + 189.20? quickly! oh, too late, he's got it. will you remember $263.56? now say that back to him?

when you inevitably stumble through every single number-related task, even just counting certain things in the bag, asmodeus realizes that maybe you're just not that good with numbers. not in the way that mammon is, that's just general stupidity (so mean!), but in a way unlike you are with anything else. eventually he'll stop handing off number-related tasks to you and take a couple extra seconds to do it anyways.

asmo would help you with homework, but that requires doing his own homework, you see. and considering the fact that his nails are wet AND the devildom culture reading sounds boring as hell... he doesn't have any plans to do it. in fact, he'll calculate just what assignments he can skip while still passing. if he's not going to do his homework, he'll at least keep you company while you do yours! expect quite humming as he scrolls through social media next to you.

on the rare occasion that he does in fact do his work, asmo is more than willing to help you with your math homework! he does, however, have a system. first of all, you guys are studying in his room with the door closed. not to hide anything from the others-- unless you'd like to take advantage of the closed door?-- but to keep his brothers from interrupting you. then the two of you will spread out on his floor or his bed and get to work. if you help him with devildom history, he'll gladly help you with math!

if you get overwhelmed by your math homework, asmodeus is quick to ditch school work for the rest of the evening. honestly he didn't want to do it either! he's almost excited to be there by your side and comforting you-- in part because it's him you're asking for comfort and not his brothers, and in part because he gets the chance to charm you with one of his greatest strengths: hospitality! expect an evening of pampering with no expectation of reciprocation. he enjoys running you a bath (won't even joke about joining you... this time), doing your skincare, painting your nails... it's your call. he just can't wait to take your mind off of the stress and remind you just how wonderful you are.

Beelzebub

beelzebub doesn't even come close to finding out about your dyscalculia until you tell him. he thinks watching people work is a little rude, and he's usually too busy snacking, or thinking about snacking, or planning his next food order, or-- you get the picture. and even if he did notice you struggling, he'd kindly turn the other cheek to give you privacy. he might mention something to belphie later, considering how smart his twin is and all, but it's always out of a place of genuine concern and care for you. beel is trusts you to respect your own limits and, if you want him to know about your struggles, to approach him when you're ready.

beel is the type to have a structured homework routine. he just gets too distracted when left to his own devices! his stomach can lead him to the wildest of places. beel goes to the same spot in his room every night with a mountain of snacks and gets to work. belphie is usually somewhere in the room to "supervise", mainly acting to keep his twin on task when his brain goes into overdrive. no beel, you didn't miss fangol practice. it was cancelled tonight because of the weather. is lucifer making dinner toni-- i don't know who's on dinner duty. no, don't go check. beel.

if you're joining him to actually do your work, belphie is thankful. you essentially take over his job of "beel wrangler" and allow him to sleep peacefully nearby. if you're there to be a distraction, it's only a matter of time until you're either wrangled yourself (much to belphie's irritation) or shooed out of the room until beel finishes his work.

tutoring from beel is really collaborative. you tackle each question together, one at a time, until the assignment is complete. he wants to hear how your brain processes the question-- learning difficulty and all-- then he'll share his thoughts. somewhere in there the two of you will usually find the right answer. if not, belphie's always willing to try to help the two of you.

if you get overwhelmed with your math homework, beel is quick to comfort you. what can he do to help? he's got some snacks if that would take your mind off of things. actually, these are new ones from the convenience store across town. in a couple of minutes, you're playing a devildom version (and surprisingly tamer, considering this is supposed to be hell and all) version of beanboozled. beel never guesses a flavor incorrectly. eventually you and belphie are just feeding a blindfolded beel jellybeans and watching him guess each and every flavor correctly. at least you're not struggling with your work anymore!

Belphegor

belphie, after sitting in his assigned seat next to you for exactly one (1) math class, asks if you've always struggle with numbers. blunt but to the point, i guess? he doesn't mean to be offensive or anything, but he's not going to sugarcoat it, either. he noticed you were struggling keeping up with the notes. you're welcome to borrow his if you need to.

(i feel the need to note here that belphie's notetaking is ass. he's on the verge of passing out each class period, so all of his work is slanted heavily and mostly undecipherable. it's a shame, really, because he's got good handwriting when he's awake).

he's found most often in his room or the attic curled up among the blankets. because they assume he's asleep, wherever belphie is tends to be a good study spot. sometimes he'll beckon you to join him on the bed as he tries to distract you encourages you to pace yourself. other times he's fast asleep with the lights on, leaving you to your studies on the floor or at a nearby desk/table.

if you specifically request his tutoring, he'll make time for you. sure, he'll probably be half asleep and will appear in your room to help at an odd hour between naps, but he'll be sure to come. the problem is that his "tutoring" is mostly him just telling you the answers. if you're cool with this, great! if not, he's a bit less helpful. it's best to just use him as one would the answers section at the back of the textbook to check if you found the right result and, if not, as a resource to work backwards and find your mistake.

if you get overwhelmed with your math work while doing homework in belphegor's room, he immediately suggests a break to help calm you back down. unfortunately, this is the avatar of sloth we're discussing-- any break he suggests will most definitely turn into a distraction that stops any and all progress for the rest of the night. honestly? sometimes that's what you need. sometimes you know you're going to stress beyond the point of improvement, and those nights need to be stopped before you crash. his first suggestion will always be to curl up together to take a nap. if you're interested, you should be aware that the "nap" will not end until the next morning. if you decide to be responsible and veto that plan, then you will probably both curl up to watch a movie-- your pick-- and spend the rest of the night far, far away from any math homework that'll stress you out further.

#omg me?? doing requests?? unheard of #kinda in love with the secretly nerdy underachiever asmo hc this post created #solmare hire me #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #om #otome #obey me ask #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons

[ailithnight]

hi! i am literally on my hands and knees begging you to add the “long post” tag whenever you reblog a large chunk of text i love reading your additions to posts but if it’s a prompt i’m uninterested in i have to scroll forever to get past it. thanks :)

I am very sorry, friend, but I simply will not remember to do that.

Nothing malicious, I just straight up consistently forgot to use tags. When reblogging, mostly I only remember them when there are extra things I wanna whisper without putting it into an actual reblog.

If this troubles you so much, there are definitely things you can do about it. If you are on desktop, you can press 'J' to automatically jump to the next post (and 'K' to go back to the top of a post). If you are on desktop and using XKit, you can mute posts without unfollowing or blocking anyone.

And if you aren't on desktop (or are and want an additional option) Tumblr does have an inbuilt feature you can access in your Dashboard Settings to shorten long posts. I will admit, I have no idea how good that feature is though. I turned it off as soon as they rolled it out.

Worse comes to worse, there is nothing wrong with unfollowing anyone for any reason. And if you still want to read my additions to things, you can always seek them out. Trawl the reblogs in posts you like or visit my blog whenever you please.

Best of luck to you, friend. <3

[imasimpforstevengrant]

THRICE

Summary: Layla needs Marc to tell her the truth about the months he went missing. Steven convinces Marc that this will heal their relationship but the ghosts of unworthiness and guilt still haunt his mind.

Warnings: (past) trauma, (past) abusive parenting/child abuse, death, mentions of death, loss, mental illness, violent behaviour, sensitive topics, angst and comfort, swearing, protectiveness, DID, fluff, sexual tension, sexual themes, unsafe sex, absolute, self indulgent smut with feelings.

WC: 8.929

Note¹: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE. I hope this makes up for the time I didn't post anything. Some of the lines and scenes, much like in previous and future chapters, are taken from:

• Moon Knight vol 1, issues #1, #3, #5, #7, #10, #35

Note²: I had to rewrite, correct and post this three times, since I didn't like the first draft. I read a theory that states Layla didn't know Steven because she was the only person who made Marc happy, so I wrote this to explore the idea. I love the idea of Layla knowing (and eventually falling in love with) Steven, as a healthy way to love Marc in his wholeness.

Note³: This chapter is absolute self indulgent, filth... but I couldn't help it. Marc/Steven deserve so much after all they went through. I hope you enjoy this just as I did writing it. Sorry for any typos. English is not my native language. Thank you for the kudos!

---

SECOND PART

A Beacon of Hope (Steven)

For most people, the sun would be a solace against the coldness of rain. For Marc Spector, however, the cold means freshness after the searing heat of Egypt. But everything seems perfect when he's not conscious. Marc would think about it as another little tragedy in the long list of misfortunes in his life. It's something Steven Grant would agree with him without a doubt.

The alarm clock has been turned off. The calming sound of rain pouring engulfed him in a profound state of relaxation. This is the best part of redemption. And freedom too. A slight frown forms when a soft, humming sound vibrates through his skin. It's impactful enough for Marc to open his eyes to see the origin of this rare moment of poise and comfort. Thick, curly locks tickled his face-

The sweat gluing their skins together was arousing enough to set his heart on a crazed gallop, shortening his breath. Layla lies in front of him, sleeping with a serenity that Marc loved to watch during sleepless nights. Though he longed for  warmth, he resists the impulse to claim her body again, but he's too afraid to disturb her sleep. Layla understood the need to remind himself that he wasn't a tool, but a human. 

That was the only good part after bathing himself in blood. He could remember the first time they made love. It wasn't too long after Layla had offered herself to go undercover as am exotic dancer in a secret group of dangerous assassins. She played her part perfectly, even letting herself touch by an old creep that happened to be the leader of the murderous committee. 

Marc was watching them from afar, furiously. They weren't even a thing at that point, though he could see her shy smiles whenever he flirted with her as much as she tried to hide it.  Having known isolation and lovelessness so close, the moment when that man dared to lay his hands on her, awoke in his chest a burning jealousy. He would never let anyone take her away from him, but he needed to think coldly now. 

To earn the trust of the leader, Layla performs a sensual, elegant dance before him and the results are splendid. The leader reveals all the info they needed to get rid of every member of the criminal committee. But it has its costs, as Layla had become the object of his impudent manners. He tries to lay her down the blue, opulent couch to quench his desires as she stares at him from the window, claiming for help. 

The man catches a glimpse of her looking outside, and lands a painful, loud slap on her face at her betrayal. But his harsh, tough manners crumble when an inhuman, ghastly howl that appalled not only him, but her too. Marc doesn't think twice to attack him with enraged fists, which soon became reddish, gushing with blood. Layla stays away, observing with amazement how that man, that presence, who seemed so cold and inhuman, protects her with such choleric fury. 

Suddenly a feeling of desire fires up her chest, unleashing a wild gallop in her heart. Marc just attacks, roaring like a beast… until Layla begs him to stop, that he's not a murderer. Marc suddenly comes back to his senses, with a blooded moon dart still in hand. Layla gathered enough information to keep assisting Marc, who took her away from the place, securing her in a room where she could change her clothes. The committee had been responsible for many crimes in Egypt, one of them being stealing relics in the black market after raiding tombs. All of them were American, though that was the least of his concerns. 

They had a reunion with the other members in an abandoned warehouse. Many noticed the leader's absence, which immediately set suspicion. That was the best part of it. 

With the rest of the committee on guard, Marc emerged from the dark. Everyone thought it was a madman in a disguise… until they realized bullets didn't stop him. Convinced they were before the presence of a ghost, many of them give in to panic. Marc was grateful that Layla wasn't there to behold the bloodshed. For his part, Khonshu was delighted. The deity praises Marc, who does not feel proud at all. There's one agonizing bastard staring up to him, with his face contorted by the most tenebrous expression of horror Marc had seen in his whole life.

As he reaches the place where Layla was hiding, he takes her and flies with her to a quieter place: her home. 

The armor soon vanishes, leaving him with his usual outfit: a brown jacket, gray pants and a blue sweatshirt. Only the blood serves as a vestige of his deed, making Layla worried about him. She takes a few rags, cleaning the blood, though Marc reassures her that he's fine. A cold shower would do. Once in the bath, Marc takes off his clothes. The sound of water falling suddenly triggers the memory of that fatal day. Spector shuts his eyelids, stopping the flow of water. The shower is short, and trying to forget the faces of those he murdered, Spector looks for slumber. 

"Marc?" 

Before he finds the bed, he finds something more alluring. Once he turns around, his eyes behold a seductive, sultry Layla from the door sill. Marc is bewitched by her nakedness, those curves, that expression in her face. Awestruck, Marc feels incapable of speaking. Layla giggles. She steps forward but the vigilante is faster: the sexual act demanded for no other clothes except their bare skins. In seconds, both become a mess of entangled limbs on the wall. Layla whispers her gratitude for saving her, while Marc quickly works his way to pleasure her. 

How he wished to freeze that moment, specially when her gentle arms cradle his figure as both drift to slumber after their act. The sweet memory of their first night together blurs with the present, as he feels her soft breathing against his face. Fascinated by the fact he was being desired and loved even in the quietest silence, Marc caressed her face. He marvels at her freckles, that flawless skin under his fingers, mouth agape and disheveled hair falling down her face… he had to repress the impulse to wake her up, seduce her, making her come over and over with his mouth just to make her full of himself again. 

The stillness is no impediment to feel her naked form lost in his limbs. Her arms latch to his neck, as if her life depends on it. The same occurs with one leg tangling on his thigh. In a passionate outburst, the former mercenary takes Layla much closer to him, lustfully smelling her neck. It made him forget the horrors of the world, finally tasting how a normal life with Layla would be if he wasn't under the servitude of an obscure deity. 

“Marc.” Spector opens his eyes, frowning. 

“Steven?” he croaks with a thick voice, trying not to wake Layla up. By mere instinct, he looks for a reflection to glare at. But the room lacks any nearby mirrors.

"What… What happened last night?" Steven asked with a shaky voice, seemingly more fearful to wake her up than Spector himself, "why did you…"

"Not now, Steven," Marc tried to dissuade his alter, "we will discuss this later." His dry order just causes a low whine from the mild mannered man.

"Why?" Steven insists, irritating the former mercenary even more. He just sighed, undoing the embrace with Layla to get up off the bed. He put his navy blue boxers on and went to the three mirrored-dresser, facing his alter. He supports in his arms, closing his eyes before facing his reflection.

"Ease down, Steven. You're not gonna make the anxiety easier if you keep losing it," Marc finally said. The British man just let out a scoff. 

"You always said that there was a wall between us… that it takes all your willpower to be a fly on the wall… but you… you blacked out." A castdown Marc listens to what Steven has to say about the incident.  

"Why did you let me touch her? Why did you let me front when for less you threw me off a hole?" Marc can't help but let a soft chuckle out. 

"Things are different now," the former mercenary replied. Steven frowns, his glare reveals a great confusion. Marc scoffs, "you saved my marriage, Steven. With your insufferable need to tell the truth,” he finally replied. The alter waved his hands, for his tone to lower. 

"I felt she deserved to know it," Steven muttered, "she's just… she's just an awesome woman to be around…" Marc giggles, raising an eyebrow. 

"Is she?" His cheeky expression makes Steven realize the double entendre of it. 

"Hey!" He shrieks, blistering.

"Come on, Steven. Don't play innocent. I know the way you look at her, I know you couldn’t stop ogling her since you kissed her."

Steven felt like a depraved creep. 

"I don't ogle her, Marc!" He replied from the mirror, outrageous, "I never intended to be a creep around her. She wanted to kiss me because I have the face of her husband… you, but she made the first move and I wasn't going to deny her just because she's your wife."

Marc raised an eyebrow.

"If the Gods gave you a blessing, you don't reject it. Leaving Layla there, after you blacked out, would have been rude to… you know… leave the job unfinished, yeah?" 

Marc chuckles after staring at the mirror, surprising Steven with a calmness so atypical from his usual ways. Grant was smart, but he failed to notice that Spector laughed at his own, surprising sassiness. 

"It would have been a crime to leave Layla alone at that moment," Steven whispered, more to avoid those long, awkward seconds of silence between them, "I never thought that Layla… would feel like that about me, to let me touch her. I still don't believe it–" 

"Well, you better start believing it." Steven widened his eyes, mouth agape. 

"What–?"

"You wanna know something, Steven?" Marc muttered, leaning his weight on his arm, supporting himself against the door, "The walls between us have crumbled, and I didn't want to accept that." Marc took a deep breath, as Steven encouraged him to go on.  

"At first, I refused to see it but now I know that it was that same wall that prevented me from quieting the chaos in my mind." Steven nodded.

"I was jealous of her looking at you with that tenderness so typical of her, when all I got was hostility and anger from her."

"I can't blame her, mate. You lied to her and went missing. I still think you're a twit for that." Steven commented. 

"You know my reasons on why I did that and as for us, that matter is solved" Marc replied. The British nerd sighed.

"All right, go on." 

"Well, it happens that… I hadn't seen that look in her eyes since we…"

"Yes?" Steven inquires, eager to know. 

"Since she shared a poem before we became a thing."

"Wow!" Steven Grant is genuinely impressed, and comments on how he never expected Marc to be a man of poetry. Both were in the library in her home, checking a few archeological objects. Marc saw she diverted her attention to a book by a French author. His mind couldn't keep fantasizing with her lips when she was so close to him, speaking about two lovers forced to be apart. 

"She read me that poem, from Desbordes-Valmore," Steven can notice that this is something very important for Marc, as he turns to stare at a serene, sleeping Layla.

"We had our first kiss after she patiently explained to me what it was about. And I started panicking because of the way she looked at me then." Marc feels his eyes tearing up. 

"Why?" 

"I was afraid of her going to smack my face when she got up from the chair," his voice broke, "stepped closer to me and… held my head to put it on her chest.

Marc stood silent for nearly a minute, the vivid memory kept him too thoughtful in a sepulchral muteness. By instinct, he had prepared himself for what he thought was another unsparing punch, but all he does is to succumb to her gentleness. Layla is patient, and so she awaits for this breathing to ease down, softly cooing in his ear. Marc likes to hear her heartbeat, and shamelessly nuzzles her breast when Layla asks him what's going on. He doesn't say anything, delighted to glide his hands over her hips, and waist. 

"I want the same for you, Steven," Marc whispered, "Why should I keep fighting you when both of us feel the same way about Layla? The key to solving the chaos is that we coexist, Steven." The mild mannered man was flabbergasted.

"What?" He could barely manage to croak. Marc crossed his arms, to emphasize the seriousness. 

"Oy, mate…" Steven made a gesture to the former fortune soldier to go easier on him with this new idea of living in a shared marriage, "I think we need some time to think about this before taking it further."

"I made up my mind not too long ago and yet you fail to see it. My wife won't love me fully if she doesn't get to know you better, Steven!"

"Mate, mate, quiet. You'll wake her –!" Spector rolls his eyes, groaning at his stubbornness. 

"We were dead in the Duat, and the first thing you asked me was if she was going to be okay."

"But mate, you were the one who took the shot."

"And even in death, you didn't stop loving her, Steven! That proves you deserve her more than I would ever do! That's why you exist!"

Grant remembers the moment where their lives bled together. He lowered his head, saddened. Marc got away from the mirror, ashamed to reduce his alter to a mere tool to cope with his feelings. He covered his face, incapable of looking Steven in the eyes when passing by the aquarium. Spector took a bottle of whiskey and a small glass, just a few feet away from the door. 

"I'm sorry, Steven" Marc muttered, shaking his head while holding the drink, "I didn't mean–"

"Alright," Steven interrupts him, "Alright. You want me to be with Layla? Fine, I will if she also wants me… but I have one condition." Marc awaits as the reflection leans half body. 

"Tell. Her. The truth."

Marc frowned, confused. 

"What truth?" 

"About us. About me. Tell Layla about our trauma, our mother–" The last word makes Spector jump like a feline taken by surprise, glass fell, drink all poured on the wooden floor. 

"What?!" 

"The truth, Marc. I know it's hurtful for both of us, but Layla must know it," the panic starts taking over his composure, "She deserves to know it! You should be the one telling her the truth, more than me! She met you first, she loved you first–" the situation worsens when a feminine voice ceases their conversation. 

"Marc?" From his seat, he can see Layla getting up, "is everything okay?" She puts on one of Steven's sweaters, her expression is nothing but worry as she leads her steps to her troubled husband.

"No, no, baby, don't – please!" he begged, moving his hands so she could stay away from him, as if he was a leper, "I'm sorry- I don't want you to see me like this." 

"What–? 

He got up, turning to the door, though with no intentions of leaving. But Layla takes it all the wrong way. 

"I didn't want to do this in front of you," he finally says something after the tense lack of words between them. But it only creates more confusion. 

"It's okay, Marc… you can tell me." 

His eyes are stuck on the door, futilely sealed with blue adhesive tape. The excessive protection made it look cartoonish, but even like that, Layla attempts to calm him down. 

"You can trust me! Just please stop running away from me!" Her voice broke down in sobs. Marc hated that sound so much. The guilt of seeing those red, watery eyes was almost as if had made her bleed when all she did was offer compassion, patience and love to him. He gripped his hair, tightening his eyelids. Marc would never forgive himself for her deeply hurt expression in her face. How different their situation was just a few hours ago: drowning in ecstasy, screaming each other's names. Why was it that Spector never had long moments of stability or happiness? 

"Mate, I swear…" Steven hissed, furious at his passiveness, "if you run now, we lose her! Do you understand that?!" 

Marc takes a deep breath. 

"Layla isn't like our mother!" Steven screamed inside his skull, "tell her the truth and she will understand."

"Marc, please tell me something! You don't get to fuck me and leave as if nothing happened!" Layla yelled, unaware of Grant's own feud with Spector. 

"She's gonna run, Steven. She's gonna realize she married an insane, murderous bastard who can barely keep it together!" He shrieked, violently palming his head. 

Layla gasps, stepping back.

"Honey, you're scaring me…" Layla sobs, horrified. She tries again to connect, but the former mercenary refuses to give in to any display of affection, trying the best to smother the pain, leaving him unable to enjoy her adorable habit of extending her hands to hold his face or arms, whenever he felt he lost control of his emotions.

"Don't leave me…" he pleaded, voice barely audible, looking at the aquarium for Steven to help him contain him. 

"Why are you saying all those horrible things to yourself?" Layla touched his face and the result frightened her: She couldn't distinguish between her husband and her newfound British nerd, which made her hand recoil. Layla couldn't believe that this soulless, broken man was the same ghastly apparition which had inspired so much horror in criminals.

Whoever is in the body, doesn't make a move. There's no mercenary, no vigilante, not even a sad, meek loner. Just a disheveled, disoriented individual who can't stop staring at the beautiful woman, as if refusing to believe she's real. Layla extends her hand and caresses his cheek once again.��

The helplessness in Spector's face manages to be so moving, so devastating for her kind heart, that Layla cannot help but to plant a kiss in his mouth. He does consent to the caress, though he doesn't kiss her back. 

She tasted the flavor of early whiskey on him and Marc finally seemed to snap out of his trance. His lips trembled while a few shaky words left his mouth. Layla waits for it, with bated breath. As much as he hated Arthur Harrow, he can't help but agree with him about comprehension: there can't be no progress without it. 

"Please… please say something…" Layla begged, after breaking the kiss. 

"Steven…" he whispered, with eyes closed. Before Marc could say anything else in response, Layla remembers what happened between the British nerd and her in bed. 

"Oh my God, are you upset because… because I slept with him?" but Marc frowned, waving his hands.

"No, no–" he whispered.

"I didn't mean to betray you or make you feel jealous… I'm sorry… I should have stopped when he fronted," Layla covered her face, regretful. 

"I'm not upset about that," Marc held her hands with his to calm her down.  Layla sobbed, drying her tears with the back of her hand. Knowing him, it was hard to believe he wasn't jealous of his alter's affections for her, as absurd as it sounded. 

"We need to talk about… Steven," Marc muttered, "He has been nagging me to…" he cleared his throat, nervousness taking over his mind, "Steven, for fuck's sake, say something! Help me!" He hissed with a low voice. 

"I'm with you, mate…"

Layla feels her heart soar as she hears Marc mentioning his alter. 

"Nagging you to do what?"

Marc looked back at her.

"To tell you… the truth."

"What truth, Marc?" He inhaled deeply. 

"About myself… my disorder… and what caused it." The last sentence sounded ominous, but it didn't stop her compassive ways to keep flourishing. Layla sits down with him at the table. Marc slides his hands down his face in despair, just after following Layla. He grabbed the whiskey and drank the remaining liquid, placing the empty bottle at his side. Alcohol helped to disconnect the physical and mental pain. 

"He chose me because he knew I have a weak mind. That's why I hated Khonshu. I hated him with every fiber of my body, because that vulture ripped my corpse to hold me under his servitude!" 

Layla nodded, remembering how Khonshu had pointed her as the responsible for Marc's crisis. The former mercenary lowers his head. The feeling of vulnerability becomes unbearable. It had been easier to reveal the truth to Steven while in the Duat. He wishes to have the door, and show her everything, with no need of speaking. 

Marc cannot help but feel that there's something inexplicably evil with words. Words hold an unspoken, powerful effect on one's soul, and no amount of love could erase the scars left by a mother's hatred and a father's indifference. Broken bones could heal, bruises could fade away but the livid memory of Wendy Spector striking him and blaming him for her dead son would haunt him until the day he'd die. 

"Dissociative Identity Disorder," Marc finally spoke. Layla stares at him but her husband just adds:

"I was twelve when I was diagnosed," the expressions on his face were shaded by a profound sadness. His mirthless eyes cause an immense sorrow on her. Marc covered his face, as if trying to peel off the shame. Layla intertwined her fingers with his, nodding so he would continue.

"Dissociative Identity?" She asked, tilting her head. 

"The doctor said it is a psychological response to trauma. It involves an identity disturbance, where two or more identities can control your behavior," Marc explained, monotonously, "It feels like being a ghost of your own body." Layla covered her mouth, dimensioning the bodeful definition. 

A psychological response to trauma.

"I had a family once," Marc suddenly added, "when… When I was a boy, my brother Randall and I loved to enact an adventure film we were fans of, so we crossed a forest and went to a cave on a rainy day–" he interrupted himself, gulping and gathering strength to keep opening up. Layla takes his hands and brushes distractingly her thumbs on them, giving him the confidence he needed. Marc squeezed his eyelids, holding back the tears. 

"We got into the cave… and he drowned when the rain flooded it," he breathed, as if saying it louder would conjure another tragedy. His words reconstruct the fatidical day and its consequences. Layla listens carefully, granting him space. But once Marc broke down in rattling sobs, she immediately got up from the chair to wrap his trembling form in her arms. 

Layla didn't oppose when Marc trapped her form in his arms with heartbreaking despair, sitting her on his lap. It helped to maintain their stillness, which contrasted so much with the torment in their minds. 

The chaos within prevented him from deciding where to start. Where pain and death caused suffering, lies began to sprout and so does the desire to become someone else. Someone whose life was better.

Marc leaned his forehead to her shoulder.

"It's just a memory..." he repeated himself constantly, like a mantra. Suddenly he remembered those birthdays on company of his father. The absence of his mother only poisoned Marc's mind with delusional notions, which bordered on jealousy and his premeditation for what happened. Locking himself in the room was always the solution to run away from Wendy Spector's anger, but Steven…

(When the danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear)

Layla stared at him, trying to understand what was going on in her head. But Spector suddenly understands something greater: Mother is the danger. 

"She never forgave me for that, beating the fuck out of me whenever she had the chance. I lied to Steven, so he could have the life I always wanted," Marc hides his face in her chest, "I survived because I knew I wasn't alone. Steven was there, always so full of life, hope… things that Marc Spector isn't."

The former mercenary ached for tenderness, understanding, to be loved. To be protected and not the protector, for once. To let his defenses fall, to breathe, just for once. Layla feels his fingers clutching at her back, and hears him sobbing.

"I wanted to put Spector to sleep! I was just a boy!" Marc exclaimed. More than ever, he wishes to throw into oblivion those horrifying epithets his mother yelled at him, accusing him of deliberately leading his brother to his demise out of jealousy.  

"Of course you were!" Layla tries to heal this regretful war criminal whose soul had been rebuilt through suffering and selflessness. As much as Layla gave him peace, her love is powerless against the painful words still echoing in his head. 

"She… she died more than two months ago," Marc whispered, once he overcame his sobs, "my father called me after so long, for her Shiva and I just… I just couldn't do it."

"It's all right, you don't have to forgive her either," Layla held his face in her hands, peppering his forehead with kisses. There's so much love in her tone of voice, and the former mercenary can be happier to hear it again. 

"I'm so, so sorry…" she gently rocked him, trying to repress the image of Marc as a child being brutally beaten by the one person who was supposed to protect him when he needed her the most. 

The inevitable contrast between her loving father and his hateful mother worsened her dismay. Abdallah El-Faouly had been such an attentive, indulgent parent with her, that she couldn't bring herself that a mother could abhor and resent her own child for such an unfortunate accident. 

Marc has tightened his grip on her waist, hiding his face and whispering something unintelligible. Layla feels a strong uneasiness when his breath shortens. He had always dwelled in thoughts on how his life would be without Khonshu, without the violence, without waking up covered in someone else's blood, without the worry of Khonshu's clutches trying to reach his wife. 

"You alright, Marc?" Steven asks at his sudden silence, not knowing his internal feud. A fiery, deathly glare is all he can threaten Khonshu with as he catches a glimpse of him, partially merged with the darkness of the right corner near the aquarium, holding his typical moon staff.  Layla keeps still, cradling his form, ignoring the danger. Marc shakes his head, squeezing his eyelids shut. 

(Organizing principle) 

He pictures himself inside a psych ward. As if the asylum was the physical manifestation of an evil entity, Marc feels that wearing clothes of the same, unpleasant whitish served as an extension of it. All he now sees is a calm Khonshu sitting in a red chair, hands crossed in a polite, almost welcoming manner. He remembers his words before becoming his legionary. But the vulture speaks. 

"Do you want death or do you want life?"

He opened his eyes, slowly lifting his head. His reality is another: Her face is all he sees when the last words ring in his ear. Layla under those purple lights, with that playful smile she gave him, is the first thing he can envision after returning among the living. He then sees Khonshu placidly sitting just a few inches away from her.  

"Life."

Layla tilted her head, trying to understand what he just said. Marc was looking at her as if he had realized something of great importance. A chance to spend his years with a loving wife. A hope to start all over again. That was the promise of that one, precious word. Hope. Understanding. Love. 

Three things he hadn't experienced. 

"Honey?" She caressed his hair. 

"I said…" Spector croaked, "I. Want. Life!" Marc's breath shortened. 

The panic doesn't take long to return, but Marc frantically latches at her neck, whispering things that she couldn't comprehend at first. The vehement display of (tormented) love causes Layla to grasp on his shoulders, instead of running away after the startling fear. 

"Marc, chill the fuck down, you're scaring her!" Steven yelled but it fell on deaf ears. It wasn't a hug. It was as if Marc was snatching her from something, protecting Layla with a possessive, vice-like grip. His raspy voice vibrates through her skin. 

"I anxiously awaited every bloodshed to end to engulf myself in you so I could forget just for a brief moment that my life wasn't a nightmare, that not everything could be against me!" Marc spat, confessing from his guts, looking up to her. 

Layla was so moved, realizing she meant more for him than she initially thought. She had always taken his rampant sexual desire as a way to relieve the fervour of violence when executing his sacred duty. The heartbreaking truth demolished the façade of invincibility. Now she could fully see that there was always more than just mere lust or physical need.

She remembers the countless times she had been with him, coming to realize that what he couldn't express in words, his body could. Sex served as a way to protect Marc. Hearing the words that bared his soul, his innate humanity demanded vulnerability, beyond his condition as the Knight and High Priest of Khonshu.  

"I never told you about Steven because being with you made me happy!" Marc suddenly continued, "I didn't need Steven to absorb any pain! There wasn't anything painful or something to shield me from whenever I was with you."

He had never been the weak one. His tenderness, his clumsy, sweet ways were the shield that saved Marc from a greater insanity. The beautiful, everyday things, the wonderful family he had, all of it had died with RoRo that dreadful day. Being aware of the wrong, evil things happening around him was already hard but being the one who failed his promise to his mother to watch over his brother made it harder and worse to tolerate.

At that moment he cursed everything. He cursed Harrow for the two bullets that ended his life, thus obliging him to face his traumas, for abandoning Layla when she needed him the most, for lying to her and for not saving Steven from the dead, claiming him to doom his eternity in the dunes. The golden sun that shone in an eternal dusk wasn't too different from being locked up in an asylum. There was nothing calm without him and Layla understands it perfectly, since Steven is a fraction of the same man. 

Marc then mentions his time as a teenager. After being locked up in an asylum for three years, Spector decides to leave. Tired of the abuse, the indifference and seeing love as something he was unworthy of, Marc chooses violence. It has its roots in boxing, much to Elias' chagrin. If his mother largely ignored him during his teen years, his father smothered him with the idea to become a rabbi. 

How could he? At this point, he was convinced that he was good at one thing: hurting people. Because the people dear to him, those who loved him suffered or died. Love had never done good for him, reaffirming his (wrong) choice to never want to be loved. For many years, Marc thought that's why he always won. His harsh ways were just a façade to hide the immense pain he carried. 

"I went AWOL and got discharged. They discovered that I falsified my documents, finding out I was interned in a psych ward. I didn't have too many options. Clandestine fights helped me to live decently for a while, before Bushman hired me as his second in command. The rest is history. I became a war criminal. A fucked up, soldier of fortune capable of inhumane acts for money. Until the raid in Egypt." 

Layla nodded, though not agreeing with the self deprecating epithet. 

"Whenever I think about all the things I did, I always wondered what made you fall in love with me. I always felt I was nothing but an innate, demented killer, a failure, a lie–" he cut himself, since being aware that Layla deserved better was the most painful part. 

"Because you're no longer that person. You don't live in the past anymore," She immediately refused to hear any other negative word. Marc felt one hand gently scratching his nape, while the other held his back. He was totally ecstatic at the gesture, treating him with such care, immersing himself in the warmth he had yearned so much since his innocence was mauled, "please believe me when I tell you that no disorder will prevent me from loving you!"

She now holds his face, kissing him. But Layla doesn't move an inch away after ceasing the caress. 

"You're exactly what you've chosen to be– a strong man determined to make up for the evil you once did, a believer and a fighter who has put himself on the good side– a new man that emerged from the ruins of what you were before."

Layla whispers so many beautiful things about why she is so in love with him. Marc is delighted to hear her: It was so haunting to think that this mysterious, yet immensely alluring crusader was lovesick for her. 

There was something so wonderful and thrilling to experience the softer side of this force of nature, intrigued to see his face while making love, to see him subdued by the promise of love, of moments without violence. She understands the tremendous pressure Marc has put on his mind, trying to live the lives of two different men during a critical moment in his life. 

"I know who and what you are, Marc! You are the strongest human I ever met! You're not mad! You're the man I love! Do you understand that?!" Layla brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, "Your own suffering diminished other's misery, you protected me, you died for me and you still think you're unworthy of love?" 

Marc doesn't answer. For a moment, the sweet sound of her voice made him forget to talk. Now, Spector only has strength to listen to these beautiful words and comprehend their effect on his psyche. 

"I'm proud of you, mate. You're so brave!" Steven's voice cheered from within, soothing his heart. Marc smiles, as Layla softly and patently caresses his hair, "You're so lucky to have her, Marc. She's so kind, so loving…" 

"She is, she is," Marc hums, pressing his forehead on her shoulder.

"Huh?" She asked. 

"Oh, I'm sorry– It's… it's Steven," he whispered, then he softly adds, "he's saying wonderful things about you." 

"Can he see us? Can he feel me when I touch you?" Layla hummed, pressing her lips on Marc's. The caresses now go up and down his face, neck, his broad shoulders.

"He can see, yes" The former mercenary says with a faint voice, too focused on kissing her breast, even with the sweater on. He remembers how beautiful she looked as Taweret's avatar. Those golden wings made her look like a celestial being. 

Marc remembered what Steven had said about the goddess in the Duat. The goddess of women and children… and also childbirth. 

It unchained a memory from many years ago. It was in a market, days before the raid that changed his life. He was having a drink, when he heard a couple of archeologists talking about local mythology and temples. Marc found the conversation quite interesting. They talked about one deity in particular, associated with the moon and protection of night travelers. It was said that whenever Khonshu caused the crescent moon to shine, fertility blessed the cattle, nostrils became full of pure air… and women conceived. 

The last sentence caused a dull, yet significant shiver between his legs. Marc leads his hands underneath the sweater, slowly kneading her way up to her waist.  

"What is it?" Layla asked, eyeing the curious and aching hands fondling her sinuosities.

"I want to sleep with you," Marc hummed against her skin. Layla rolled her eyes, giggling. 

"So what's new?"

"It just so happens that we don't have to prevent a global catastrophe nor I don't have to punish evildoers anymore," Marc chuckled but his smile soon morphed into a pleased grimace when he lifted the cloth, making Layla gasp when he drools at the sight of her bare breasts, carefully fondling them after tossing the sweater aside. He's about to say something to praise her splendid nudity but a long, loud -and straight-out hilarious- gasp is everything he can hear for now. 

"Oh my God– Marc, she– she looks gorgeous! " Steven is breathless. Spector can't help but laugh at his fascination, though he totally understood it. He had seen her body in the dark, but having the privilege to behold her body in broad daylight made his brain lose the capacity to think clearly. Layla looks down but Marc rushes to clarify things.  

"It's… it's Steven," his name suddenly draws a happy expression on her face, "he really likes what he's seeing…" 

"Well, he can see us before we get to fuck again" Layla states, rubbing his shoulders and arms, "so he knows what's gonna be like from here."

"He is the kind of man that can make you happy." Steven can love you in ways I can't…" he whispered but Layla cut his doubts with a kiss.

"Both of you make me happy, I'll have you both. He's a part of you that you can't ignore. I can't ignore him."

Marc brushes her nipple with his fingers distractingly before kissing it. Layla's breathy moan is instantaneous. He smirks. He adores her reactions, just as if it was the first time they had been together. 

"You are the reason why I'm still sane, why I'm still alive…" he breathed against the orbed part, making Layla shudder… To then give a quick lick to the areola. All he obtains is a soft, pitiful whine which doesn't take too long to make him hard. Without neglecting the part, he looked down at their privates so closely pressed. 

Marc is drooling over the sight. A thin, black thong is the only thing preventing her full nudity but an atypical, impatient echo from Steven startles the calm silence. 

"Bloody hell, Marc–! Do something!" 

Layla feels a ferrous grip on her hips and she realizes his intentions: Marc tugs the thong with urgency, tossing it to the floor to make his wife rub herself on his covered length. 

"I can't stand being without you," Spector pronounced, unconscious. He only has energy to focus on the beautiful image of Layla straddling him but a sharp scratch on his shoulders manages him to regain his strength. The interruption was followed by an awkward silence that Layla soon avoids, despite how weak his touches left her. 

"Honey?"

He suddenly remembers why he loves when Layla goes rough on him: This is the only pain he loves, for it is through that same pain that Marc knows he's alive. Their bodies wouldn't stop lusting for each other and Marc Spector's unbridled desire longs for something serving as a reminder of this rare moment of euphoria. He loves to see the scars left all over his back, and he's dying to feel that pleasurable pain all over again. 

"Again," Spector orders. 

Layla bites her lip and looks down impishly. Marc chuckles when he senses her hand pressing his nape, so his face was buried between her breasts.

"Be gentle," she asks in return and greatly rejoices when Spector puts his tongue to work on her nipple. Layla smiles when Marc cannot take it anymore, holding her while getting up. Both bodies slammed against the wall once Marc cornered Layla. 

"What do you want your good girl to do, husband?" She whispered sensually.

The small furniture helped his eager hands to spread her legs, so he could see the effect he had on her body. Layla feels so vulnerable by offering her drenched sex so openly, with an starving husband impeding any escape. His hands caressed the inner thighs, lining softly her folds and her wet, warm intimacy. 

Marc got rid of his boxers, hypnotized by her pink, glistening intimacy he so eagerly wanted to invade. He leads his hands to his mouth, oiling his fingers just before he teased her femininity, right on her fleshy bud. Layla jolted violently, everything is becoming blurry and all Marc can do is to gather enough strength to insert himself inside her.

"I want you to come around me, baby," he muttered against Layla's mouth. She holds his face with avid tenderness, loving those rebellious curls falling on his forehead. His exhausted yet completely ecstatic expression ignited her to taste his lips, setting aside a few locks. 

"Fuck- I only–" Layla doesn't allow him to talk with her voracious kisses, "wanna–wanna feel you on me," Marc circles perfectly her swollen bud and Layla just ceases the passionate kisses to writhe and moan for him, crying his name when she feels her moistened depths fluttering, yearning to be invaded, to receive Marc in the ways he deserved, so he can feel the exquisite captivity imprisoning his flesh even more. 

Marc needs more of her sounds, smiling at her urged, needful calling ring in his ears. He knows his life is made of contradictions, as being a war criminal while being the only living son of a rabbi. He was joyful and exultant to be a fearful force of nature and a touch starved man subdued by love. She calls him, wishing her man to claim her body and soul. Just then, Marc howls, desperate for humanity:

"JUST FUCK ME UNTIL I LOVE MYSELF!" he exclaims, out of his mind. 

Marc holds her closer to him, to bind her very soul with his. He slowly opened his eyes, staring at her blurred face but her voice echoes in his mind: 

"Habibi…" she lovingly lulled into his ear, knowing the effect the endearing name had on him. Once his vision is clear, he becomes lost in her loving glare, far from those harsh looks he had received during his whole fucking life. How can he not love her, if Layla is the living opposite to every abusive person that had crossed paths with him? As with Steven, Marc is maddened by the fact that someone tried to understand him from a loving perspective, instead of being examined and observed as a mentally ill lunatic.

"Habibi…" she murmured again, shuddering at the touch of his fingers down her body, tangling some curls from the abundant mane that barely managed to cover that lovely bosom of hers. His hand sneaks between her legs and he smiles when he hears Layla claiming his name, begging for more. Though he intends a more profound exploration of her body, his long, lost gaze suggests confusion as to where to start touching. 

Fascination takes over Layla when she feels an atypical gentleness in his touches, as if she was made of glass. Layla perceived that this kindness was not like him, but rather from…

"We both need you," Marc said as he slid his fingertips over her chest before pouncing like a hungry animal, sliding his tongue to reach the part previously pampered, tasting it more hungrily now. His hand drew impatient circles all over the swollen bud, making her lose the little composure she had left. 

His mouth gently nibbled at the hardened nipple and then looked up at her mischievously. Layla never felt so aroused in her life by just a gaze. Although Marc didn't believe it when she mentioned it, Layla just melted before the manly beauty of her husband. His eyes, his black hair, his intense gaze… soon Layla feels Marc is everything she needs now. 

Marc is still doing his wonders with his hands, but they cease once he decides to close the wounds of both of them, left behind by so many lies and so much foolishness when answering the call of his flesh, which ardently cries out to abandon the solitude that individuality meant.

Layla sobs and whimpers as she is invaded, relieved to receive him inside her. Marc wasted no time in thrusting into her desperately, panting heavily as pleasure made him lose his mind.

"You like that, don't you?" and Layla nods with a cute, playful expression in her face, prompting Marc to continue. He was blissfully overwhelmed by the warm, living constriction that adjusted to his length each time he slammed inside.   

Layla arched her back several times against the wall, fighting against the pleasurable pain cramps spread all over her thighs, her belly. Her labored breathing turns into scandalous moans. 

"That's it... Moan, moan for me" Marc pays more attention to her heated intimacy, getting exactly what he wanted. These were whispered words, sometimes incoherent, but beautiful. Her moans are interspersed with her native Arabic, whose sound helps to heal his heart. Marc played with the fleshy pearl hidden in his privacy, causing his wife to stir with pleasure.

The former mercenary feels the rapture reaching unimaginable dimensions when her twitching depths brutally contract around him. His voice rumbles with ecstatic moans as he pours himself inside her. Marc felt it was as if her soul begged in every (humanly) way for him to stay there, with her… wanting his rigid sex melted with hers for good, something he happily conceded. 

"Looks like someone wants to be a father," she jokingly said, but another animalistic thrust from Marc seemed to confirm what she suspected. 

"I could be one, you know…" Marc hums against her mouth. Both laughed it off.

It is a mad, sweet addiction. 

This is the only madness that Marc wants: this love, the one a man feels towards a woman, the love that reduces a man to a slave, to a madman. He is proud to recognize himself addicted to her body, to her love, to her good heart, to the fact that their bodies could not stop once they united. Layla glides her hands over his neck, feeling the skin vibrate as he speaks. 

"Save me…" She saw how lost his expression was, still basking in the elation of being one, "save us…"  

That blissful glare was rare and gorgeous to gaze at. His forehead touched her shoulder, repeating the plea over and over. He probably didn't even know what he was saying at this point. She caresses his hair but Marc keeps his vicious, downright desperate grip around her waist, hiding his face. 

"She's a goddess, Marc!" An enraptured Steven Grant exclaims from within. Marc groans at the strident joy of his alter and it catches Layla's attention. 

"Sweetie?" She asks. It takes a few seconds for Marc to react. He breaks their physical bond, without getting away from her. 

"Steven wants to hug you," Marc murmured. Layla tilted her head, softly laughing at the tender request. 

"Did he enjoy our little show?" She playfully asked. 

"I think he did," Marc giggled, looking right at her, "it means a lot to him, you know?" He steps away from her, looking at the mirror's reflection, which showed an impatient Steven, "alright, you're in."

Layla closely pays attention to the moment her husband keeps mute for a moment. He turned around, quickly glancing at her. Layla's face beams with happiness as Steven gasps at the sight of her, completely exposed. She got down from the furniture, walking towards him. 

"Oh, dear!" Steven almost stumbled, seeing her and himself with no clothes on. He doesn't move an inch, incapable of taking his eyes off her. Layla finally comes close to him, extending her hand to caress his face. 

"Steven." His breath shortened as her hands reached his lips, brushing her thumb over it. His fearful, innocent attitude, so distant from Marc's rough ways, makes her feel guilty for how angry she was at him when they met. 

"Steven Grant… from the gift shop," she lovingly hummed, while slowly wrapping his neck with her arms. She can feel his body tensing, especially when his chest is pressed against hers, "don't be afraid…" 

She starts leaving a line of kisses all over his neck, to let him know it was real. He groans softly, sliding his hands down her waist as a sensual compensation for her embrace. 

"Layla…" he muttered, bewitched by her beauty, "look–look I–" nervousness makes him clear his throat, trying to hide the panic. Layla undoes the hug, causing a low whine from Steven. Layla pays full attention to him. She has that look in her eyes, full of love, of understanding. 

Everything changed all of a sudden. Not too long ago, Steven had been dwelling in depression for a missed date, sick of his usual bad luck. Layla's gentle heart makes him forget that angry call, the shame… he still has trouble thinking something or someone this good couldn't be true. 

"Last night… last night was amazing," Steven Grant stutters, but it doesn't scare her off. She keeps listening carefully, "I never thought you wanted me in that way… I just freaked out because I didn't know what was happening."

A cute smile on Layla's lips encourages him to continue.  

"You…" he says, feeling the typical lightheadedness of love brought with it, "you looked absolutely lovely. I feel… I feel I've been waiting for this moment my whole life." 

She nods, smiling as she remembers the kiss in the desert. Layla also remembers she had been the one starting the affections. But the memory itself doesn't prompt her to properly resume what Steven had interrupted (even if it was with a noble reason). It was the rapture that made his eyes shine. That same love he looked at her with back before finding Ammit's tomb. Layla's face came closer to his, searching to lock their mouths. 

Steven gladly consents and responds to her hungry kiss, praising her each time their mouths broke the caress. The sound of their lips colliding sent shivers through his nerves, thinking this could be the beginning to more touches. 

"I absolutely loved you fucking me so hard, Steven with a V," Layla whispered between kisses, stopping for a few seconds to bathe in the tender praise. The nerd chuckles happily. After all, she remembers that silly rhyme. 

"When I came here, I wanted my husband and I ended up with two instead." 

"I thought that if I was under the service of an evil, stupid pigeon, I was also married to you.” The mild mannered man pants against her mouth, loving the feel of her breath on his face.

Layla sneaks her tongue inside his mouth, parting his lips. Steven allows her to, leading his restless hands towards her chest, squeezing her soft forms. Layla broke the kiss, eyes open in surprise at his daring boldness. The long and awkward silence scares Steven, ashamed of his impulsivity: 

"I'm sorry, I don't want you to think I'm a creep or something–"

"No!" Layla calmed him down but Steven's insecurity keeps speaking for him:

"I'm sorry, it's just… just before I met you, I missed a date. All because Marc had to retrieve that golden beetle. I don't remember kissing anyone until you," Steven places his hands over her shoulders, "I don't remember anyone until you. Please tell me this isn't the last time we do it." 

Layla rolls her eyes, taking his hands to place them all over her chest, so he could squeeze and fondle them. 

"Didn't you hear me? I said–" she pulled him closer to her to then purr, "you can see us before we get to fuck again." Steven moans when his fingers get to touch the nascent line to the full, round part. 

"That's it… touch them if you're not convinced," Layla approves his touches, putting her hands over Steven's and he's there again, consumed by desire. His eyes reflect an incommensurable gratitude and profound relief.

"That is the best part of all this adventure," Steven whispered, amorously holding her hands on his, "I got to meet the wife I didn't know I had. How was I supposed to live the simple, normal, peaceful life Marc intended if you're not in it?" The line is powerful enough to make a tear fall from her eye. 

"You can now, Steven" she held him close, "because you're alive and I can touch you and love you." Steven wraps his arms around her waist once both lay down. He holds her with passion, gratefulness, free of any thought concerning his solitude. 

Layla means 'night' in both Hebrew and Arabic, and for the first time in his life, Marc Spector could succumb to rest, feasting his eyes on the beautiful stars that saved his existence from complete darkness.

#marvel moon knight #moon knight 2022 #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight smut #marc spector #marc spector x layla el faouly #marc spector smut #marc spector fic #steven grant fic #steven grant x layla el faouly #steven grant imagine #steven x layla #marc x layla #marc spector imagine #layla el faouly imagine #layla el faouly #Layla El-Faouly smut #steven grant #Layla El-Faouly #may calamawy scarlet scarab #may calamawy #oscar isaac #oscar isaac moon knight

[lesbianmaxevans]

Max & Liz from Roswell, New Mexico (2019-2022) || Nick & George from Nancy Drew (2019-2023) [part I] happy birthday @helloyona

[Image Description: Nine stacked gifs, each one divided vertically in half. On the left is a scene from Roswell, New Mexico. On the right is a scene from Nancy Drew. Each gif also has capitalized, blocky text overlaying the images in the center.

THE GUARDED, CLOSED OFF ONE: Liz says, “I don’t trust people. I’ve been burned too many times. I use facts and evidence to build a cage around my heart. I can’t help it, I can’t change it. And, honestly, I don’t think I would want to. It’s my armor.” // George says, “ I have a mother who is a neglectful alcoholic, and I’ve had to raise three little sisters on my own. It was really hard, but I adapted, and life hasn’t made me nice. It’s made me vicious.“

THE PROTECTIVE, RUNS INTO DANGER ONE: Max runs into a building as Liz calls after him  // Nick quickly runs into a lake after a friend (offscreen) while George watches, visibly scared

TOP-TIER LOVE CONFESSIONS: Max stands in front of Liz and says, “But you’re not perfect. I see your faults. And I love you. Easily. You believe in the good in me when I can’t see it. So, is it so crazy that I believe in you too? Without evidence. I just… know.” // Nick gently tucks a strand of George’s hair behind her ear. She stares at him in shock as he says, "I love you. You take care of everything and everyone, and I know you don’t need anyone to take care of you, but you need to know you’re loved. Okay, you asked me before what changed from yesterday to today, what do I stand to lose, and… It’s us.”

LIFE-ALTERING FIRST KISS: (this is pretty self explanatory)

DEATH & RESURRECTION: 1 - Liz cries over Max’s lifeless body. 2 - Rosa uses her new ability to restart his heart. // 1 - Nick stares helpless at George after she’s been impaled. 2 - George gasps for air after Nancy uses a magical shroud.

AMNESIA PLOT: Liz looks relieved as she hugs Max, when she pulls away Max says, “I’m - I’m so sorry. Have we met?” // George rushes to Nick, saying, "Nick, you’re okay!” He recoils from her and responds, “Uh, who are you? Wait, you know me?”

FATAL ILLNESS POST RESURRECTION: Max, clearly not in a healthy state is talking with Isobel. M: "The heart is what’s the matter.” I: “No. You’re better. Valenti did a transplant. It’s better.” M: “Yeah. And my body’s rejecting it.” // George is talking to her grandmother’s spirit, and she tells George, “Your life line is beginning to merge with Odette’s. Your original line had a rocky start, but ended up happy and long. Odette’s life line is violent and brief. If you do not find a way to sever your connection, your life line will be greatly shortened.”

 SABOTAGING NEWLY-FOUND STABILITY: After Max learns of her experiments, Liz says, “I’ve discovered something that could be the key to curing people who have no hope otherwise. I can’t walk away!” Max angrily responds, “So you’re gonna turn my family’s stem cells into the hottest commodity?” // George says, "[Dating other people is an] option that I never got to explore when I had an expiration date. I want us to be together for the right reasons, not because we just settled for each other.” Nick, in disbelief, responds, “Oh, you -- you settled for me?”

DOUBLE PROPOSALS: 1 - Max seems very emotional as he says, “What I want to say is that meeting you and being with you elevated my life. When you moved in, you did something I didn’t think was possible. You taught me that I can grow so much more.” 2 - On another occasion, Liz smiles as she holds a ring box behind her back. // 1 - George stands in front of Nick and says, “No more delayed gratification. No more waiting... Ned Nickerson… Will you marry me?” 2 - Nick kneels as he holds a ring box and says, “My answer’s yes. It’s yes. It always has been, with my… with my whole heart... No matter what tries to get in our way, I am never saying goodbye to you. In this life or the next.”]

#Roswell New Mexico #roswellnmedit #Liz Ortecho #Max Evans #rnm echo #lizmaxedit #OTP: without evidence. I just know #Nancy Drew #nancydrewedit #Ned Nickerson #George Fan #fanson #OTP: I’m not the girl you kiss goodbye. I’m the girl who goes with you into the fight. #otpsource #cwladiesdaily #cwladsdaily #wocdaily #usertelevision #tvgifs #Rachel's edit tag #long post #there's a reason these are my top 2 ships of all time okay #anyway happy bday yona🥳💗 love you

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {v}

sorry for the long wait, enjoy the appetizer!

(see author's notes far below)

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT MINE, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. pictures are NOT MINE, only the edited version of it for the fic (msg me if you're the owner), credits to the rightful owners and to weheartit + canva. additionally, i am not a subic/zambales native so my apologies for any wrong, locations, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader

warnings: moderate swear words. slow burn. fluff. comedy (maybe). trust issues. culture shock. check word count.

CHAPTER SELECTION is in the ✨Masterlist✨

Chapter 4 - previous chapter, check masterlist link

Chapter 5 - this is it

[next chapter link will be posted below for suspense & convenience hehe]

words: 2.9k to 3.2k (maybe)

(N/N) = nickname

*Kiara = Claire

*Kurt = Court

*cover names | reader doesn't know (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

You look up and catch sunbeams glinting off buildings. They’re blinding, but only for a moment. For some reason, that’s how two months feel like— a moment. A very exhilarating and periodically relaxing moment. It’s as though when you stop your gait, turn your gaze down, and blink away the lingering sunlight— it’s already the next day.

You hate the irony of how time ticks faster whenever you're having fun. Quite unfair. Time should be pausing, or at least slowing down, and letting you enjoy those genuine, serotonin-inducing moments without consequences. The urge to curse profoundly at time quivers in your tongue, but you'd rather not anger it and shorten your time in this world.

Before the fear dissipates your anger, you remind yourself why you're so angry at time.

Drum roll—

Because this has been one of the most interesting summers of your life, and it's coming to an end.

Badum-tss!

You won't say it aloud, but you mentally answer Muro when he asks: why do you keep glaring at the clock?�� Because it's going too fast, I don't want summer to end.

One reason is because of the incoming rainy season. Businesses slow down sometimes, but at least the cafe's hot drinks and soups are the top products. Though, people of this country still drink hot coffee on a sweltering (normal) day. And you'd be lying if you say you're not one of them.

Other reasons— yes, plural —are the father-daughter duo, who are (probably Americans) Friday night regulars at the cafe. You haven't inquired about their ethnicity, but you haven't heard any accent from them. Moving on from that, this father-daughter duo has made your summer vastly enjoyable. And if you're being more honest, they're the main reason why this summer is in your Top 5 Best Summers list.

You've only been meeting them once a week, sometimes twice or thrice when you run into them at the malls, even so, every encounter with them is delightful. Even though Court is as guarded as ever. But over the past eight weeks, he's slowly been building a window for you to occasionally look through his reinforced concrete walls. The window is heavily curtained all the time, yet you'll find a gap.

Six weeks ago, as you’re serving them their meals, Claire fixes up the board games she brought and returns them to the shelf. Court is disposing of the gum from his mouth to its wrapper.

“You can put that on the tray. I can slip it in the trash,” you quickly say when he attempts to pocket the tissue in his jacket.

“Oh.. uh,” he pauses, looking from his hand to you as you outstretch the tray to him. “It’s fine.”

“Please, sir, it’s my pleasure— wait, no. That doesn’t sound right.”

Court snorts before he can stop himself. Your genuine grimace is somewhat fascinating, probably because it instantly burns his assumptions to the ground. Isn’t it normal to think that someone wants to check on your DNA by acquiring the gum you finished chewing?

However, it appears you’re not one of those people.

“Here,” Court puts the rolled up wrapper on the tray.

“Is it the same flavor?” you ask, “Bubblicious Watermelon gum, right?”

“That’s right,” he nods, astonished at your recollection.

You chuckle. “It’s not that popular here, though I’ve seen it around S&R. I remembered it ‘cuz I like the name— Bubblicious.”

“Would you like some?”

You’re surprised, but Court is shocked. He doesn’t realize what he's asking until he finds himself fishing out the packet of gum and extending it to you. Before he can take it back, you’re already reaching for the gum.

“Thanks.. gum would be perfection.” you wink, slipping out a piece.

“Great— another FRIENDS and bubblegum addict.” Claire groans and furtively smirks at Court.

You laugh. “I didn’t peg him as someone who watched FRIENDS.”

Court opens his mouth, ready to defend himself, but Claire interjects, ready to expose him. “Watched? He’s still watching the series,” she says. “And now, when I started watching FRIENDS, he’s watching it with me.”

"Oh, wow, he is an addict." you remark theatrically.

Court sighs. "Why are you two always ganging up on me?"

"Simple, teasing you is fun." Claire states with a nod.

You pop the gum in your mouth and give a thumbs-up. "I concur."

"That's the last gum I'll ever offer you."

"Sure, sugar daddy. It's not like I can't buy my own."

You sashay away to put the trays in the tray station, next to the refill area, but not after you ram the tray through the mini-swinging door of the trashbin and slide the wrapped up gum in. You remain calm until you siddle through the kitchen doors—

"What the fuck?!" you whisper to yourself, covering your mouth, you abruptly crouch down. "What the fuck did I just call him?— Wait, no. No, no, no, no! Don't remind yourself! Fuck!"

You hop in your squatted form. You wanted to stomp your feet, but you didn't want to make any noise. But you need an outlet, or a neuralizer, so that you can forget what you said. Talk about cringe!

You'd really take a neuralizer right now.

"Ano ginagawa mo d'yan?" Mindy is looking at you like you're an animated garden gnome.

“Binubuksan ko yung lupa para lamunin na ako.” Opening the ground so it could swallow me.

Court still gives you gum in the following weeks. Though, he preferred it if he hands it to you without Claire in earshot, because she would pull teasing faces at both of you.

And as for Claire, she has been exchanging books with you all summer. Or more like, you’ve been reading the same books while she managed to read three. It took her 4 weeks to finish both TFIOS and Paper Towns after you gave them to her. She told you that she had to pause after every chapter to calm her heart down, and this temporary discontinuation typically goes as long as 2-5 hours. 

“Damn, finally!” you exclaim with a laugh, “Now that you’ve finished the books, when are you gonna watch the movies?”

Claire hands you the paper bag holding the books. “I think I need some time off from the heartache,” she sighs, softly patting her chest, where her device-assisted heart is beneath.

“That’s right, you better rest— oh?” you glimpse at something else in the paper bag, “Kiara—”

“I bought a bunch of bookmarks, but I had too much!” Claire hastily cuts you off, laughing, she gives your arm a squeeze.

Your brows leap in astonishment and you glance over to Court, who’s across the booth from her. He's sitting like usual, as though waiting for a meeting: hands clasped on the table, back straight, knees bent 90°, and soles planted firmly. He meets your eyes briefly before staring at the teenager, wondering what she's hiding.

But you decide not to disclose it.

"Well, gosh! I planned to buy bookmarks 'cuz I've been putting almost anything between pages when I don't have a real bookmark," you laugh as you shortly retract the bundle of bookmarks from the bag. You then instinctively pat the teenager's crown, "Thank you, Claire. Even though it's too early for Christmas, I'll consider it as your gift. I shall give you an extravagant one after payday!"

Claire is stunned, not just from your words, but from how you pat her on the head. It's somewhat comforting, just like Court's, except it's much more gentle and natural. She finds it silly how she feels as though the two of you were born to interact in this moment. And if she's being more silly yet honest, you remind her of her mother.

"Or you can give it to me on Christmas. And I can give something back," she blurts out, glancing at Court with glistening eyes. "It's not like we're going anywhere— during Christmas, I mean."

It's discreet, but you heard it— the crack in Claire's voice. You try not to look as though a herd of elephants is stomping around your chest. And when she looks at you wistfully as she says those words, it's harder not to look pained, so instead you think about how she resembles Court. 

"No, we're.. we're here indefinitely… I hope."

You want to ask, very badly, why they have the need to leave. The way they say it makes it seem as though they have no choice. That at one point or another, sooner or later, they're gone. No looking back, no good-byes. And no amount of promises between strangers will make them stay.

You know it. They know it. And it's not hard to understand.

But still, you say— "I'll hold you to it, Kiara."

Claire is astonished, which she immediately relinquishes for merriment. "We have each other's word, then!" she replies, beaming.

Despite the cap obscuring half his face, you spot his frown as Court casts his gaze down. ‘Yeah, I’m disappointed in myself, too.’ you mentally sigh, ‘Making brittle promises to a girl with a feeble heart is a dick move.’

For the rest of their dinner, Court is extremely passive. He only looked at you once as they're leaving. 

That's why when you arrive back at your apartment, you're having second thoughts on whether or not to use the two-way radio. Claire didn't just return your books and gifted you with a bundle of bookmarks, she also gave you a walkie-talkie with a set of instructions.

READ ME

The General Guideline To Our Secret Comms

You glance at the wall clock, it's already 23:12. You don't know why Claire gave you a walkie-talkie, but you're more curious as to why she doesn't want Court to know she gave you one.

Is Court on channel 14? Should you tell him about this? Or will his daughter answer your questions if you figure out how to work this thing?

Five minutes before the designated time, you're already on channel 17 and entered the privacy code. You keep the transceiver on your desk while you crouch behind the other side of your bed. 

Who knows, it might suddenly explode. Better safe than sorry. Yet your subconscious is looking at you as though you've been probed by aliens.

At exactly 23:30, the device gives a crackle. You flinch and duck down, waiting for an explosion.

Fortunately, nothing happens except—

"Part Seven. Leave a fish for the lovely Mr. Worthington." Kiara's voice resounds out of the radio.

By the time she finishes the initial greeting, you're already clambering over the bed. You snatch the transceiver off the desk, pressing the talk button. "I suspect he won't be home yet." you reply and release the button.

"I hope the cops find him barefoot, frenzied, and naked in some roadside ditch a week from now."

"Remind me never to cross Margo Roth Spiegelman."

There's a beat before her voice crackles through with a laugh. "It's good to hear you, (N/N)."

"Well, it has been nearly two hours since we last saw each other. Quite a long time."

"I'm glad you figured how to get it to work. The lines are a bit.. dangerous, no?"

"It's not too out of context if you're a cultured being."

Claire laughs. "True. How about we update the lines every week? And let's take turns in coming up with the codes."

You grin. "Sounds fun! I'll buy some of the books you have, then?"

"And I'll buy yours! But the books should be the same edition."

"Copy that," you pause. "Shouldn't we be saying over or something? Or else we might be overtalking each other?— Over."

She's giggling. "I agree. Over."

"Call me childish, but I feel like a soldier or a spy. Over."

"You do sound like that. Over."

"I'm surprised the static is minimal. Over."

"That means we're less than or nearly a mile apart. Over"

"Oooh!" you exclaim and suddenly pause when curiosity bites your tongue again. You decide to free it. "Say, Kiara.. what's with the secrecy? Over."

No response.

"I'm not guilt-tripping you or anything, but it just feels wrong of me not to tell your Dad about this." you scratch behind your ear, "Don't you have SMS or Viber where we can chat freely?— Over."

"My dad's… He's a bit of a private person. Over."

"If by a bit, you mean excessively, then I agree. Over.

You can hear the smile in her voice.

"I can't help but agree."

You can imagine how the smile slowly dissipates from her lips.

"I hope you believe me when I say I want to tell you, (N/N). Because I do, and I.. I trust you somehow."

You feel a sting in your lungs. "As flattered as I am at your trust, I don't want you to confide in me if you're not ready." you pause to snort, "Or if I'm not trustworthy enough. Over."

"But you are, (N/N)!"

"Girl, you've only known me for a month. And say over when you're done speaking. Over."

"Right, sorry. But a month is a lot of time to get to know a person. Over."

You stay silent, because for the first time in forever, you don't know what to say next. This child is evidently trying to get close to you, or atleast, trying to find another person to trust other than her stoic father. But you're not the right person that she should be looking to. 

All your life, your parents have called you out for "running away from your responsibilities"— to which you reply, "I'm charting my own path for my responsibilities, thank you."

Even now, that's still your hardcore belief. Except it's currently wavering with the disapproving voices of your parents. You're not running away from deeply befriending Claire; Court obviously doesn't want you. They're just your customers/acquaintances, none of you owe each other anything.

So, why the hell do you have this urge to take care of the girl?

"(N/N)? Are you there?— Over."

You sigh. "Kiara.. you shouldn't easily trust anyone just because they're kind."

There's a moment of silence from the other end.

"Pft— sorry, but.. that was unoriginal. And no offense, (N/N), you sound like my dad."

"I'll take great offense in that because I am not as snooty as him!"

For the rest of your limited conversation with Claire, the two of you decided on what book to cipher— all the while throwing several remarks/trash-talking about Court. You could imagine all the mucus he accumulated from sneezing too frequently.

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

A/N: how have y'all been? Great! Oh? How about me? Well, my Tumblr's been buggy, I think, cuz I can't seem to comment on any posts. Anyone know what to do? I messaged the Support team already, it's been 15 hours and they haven't replied dklfjsd

✨TAGLIST✨

Portal to Chapter 6 <-click that when it's opens later (maybe)

@kat-thepoet

@queenofhellhasrisen

#the gray man #sierra six #courtland gentry #six #court gentry #reader insert #claire fitzroy #the gray man fanfiction #the gray man x reader #sierra six x reader #court gentry x reader #slow burn #fluff #comedy if you look closely #teenage girl needs a mama figure #the gray man has trust issues #father-figure trying hard #ryan gosling #chris evans #ana de armas #netflix #russo brothers

[taestefully-in-luv]

Always You | JJK (One)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader, slight Taehyung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack

Word Count: 10.2k (yikes, I know) (I will try to shorten future chapters, ya girl is sorry)

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, puking, reader is a drunk cry baby, reader is kinda embarrassing, jk is kinda jelaous, mentions of sleeping around, reader and jk are pretty affectionate, jk’s thighs are mentioned—that’s like, a warning in itself right?

Notes: hiiiii, the first part is here! Once again, really nervous about this so please go easy on me but mostly, just enjoy! :) also sorry for any typos!!!!

© taestefully-in-luv

Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun is a magical thing. It lights up and warms the Earth, it enhances your mood, it helps plants grow, it literally provides for life. Without the sun, life on Earth would cease to exist. What the sun also does? The sun also shines down on us and lights up the most beautiful things. The sun today, however, is especially highlighting the most beautiful thing. The way the glittering rays gleam through the windows you can see how todays sun focuses on him.

That’s right, you guessed it. Kim Taehyung. His skin is absolutely glowing in the rays, his eyes sparkle in the light that shines down. Yes, Kim Taehyung is an other-worldly being. The way he just stands there and shimmers you can’t help but stare but also like, shy away because his beauty is so god damn blinding. Wait…was this dramatic? This might be dramatic. You’re too far gone to care though. His boxy grin, the way his hair falls into his eyes, the mole on his—

“I just want you to know, you are fucking drooling.” You hear the scoff of the man across from you, Jeon Jungkook, also known as your best friend.

You lazily shake your head as the two of you sit nice and snug in the booths of your favorite coffee shop. It’s one of the colder spring days, the breeze biting at your skin when you were outside but now, you have Jungkook’s scarf wrapped loosely around your neck and hot coffee in your hands.

“I mean, I get it. He’s gorgeous but do you really have to go this far?”

You bring the white mug full of black coffee to your lips. It’s hot and burns the tip of your tongue, but not anything you’re not use to.

“Yes.” You state plainly. You know exactly to what he is referring to. You don’t usually come here at this time, in fact you are usually a creature of habit and come at the same time on the same days… Tuesday and Thursdays in the evening but its Friday and like 1pm. But you knew Kim Taehyung was going to be here when he snapped a picture of the famous white mug with the shops logo on it and posted on his story. You bring your hand up to your forehead, saluting to the sky, “Thank you Snapchat.” So yes, naturally when you saw he was at this coffee shop you hurried to make sure you were too. Maybe it is fucking desperate. Okay it is. But could you blame a girl? He was one of the hottest guys you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“This is ridiculous,” Jungkook huffs into his own mug, “You could just talk to him…”

Now it was your turn to scoff.

“As fucking if!”

Jungkook smirks into his mug, taking a sip of the burning hot coffee. “That incapable, hmm?”

“It’s not that I’m incapable JK,” You blow on the drink nonchalantly, “I am simply just not worthy.”

“You are so stupid, I swear.” He huffs into his mug again.

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook breathes out slowly, biting his lip as if contemplating what to say.

It’s like, what can he say? He wishes he could tell you a million things that would ease your mind, that could possibly give you the confidence you need or maybe just slap the reality on you that Taehyung doesn’t deserve you. But then he will get asked ‘why’ and he can’t have that.

“What?” you whine into your cup before setting it down.

“You’re really cool and also pretty?” he says quirking a brow in question. Because apparently that’s all he can come up with.

“That’s a question? Also am I dying? You’re complimenting me?” you tease, giving him an exaggerated look of satisfaction.

“I just mean…” Jungkook runs a hand through his messy dark locks, “You have nothing to worry about, ya know?”

Nothing to worry about he says! What does he know? He can literally get any girl—or guy for that matter—that he wants. You dip your head, frowning at the idea.

Jungkook has been your best friend since your freshmen year and there’s nothing you treasure more than his friendship. You bite your lips and tilt your head trying to recall his first presence in your life…oh! That stupid frat party freshmen year…you met at a frat party during your first semester and totally hit it off. Did he try to get into your pants? Okay, yeah maybe. He offered a room just up the stairs that night, but you refused…seemingly too shy. But Jungkook was nothing but understanding. He pat your back and said he knew a better place, and that was the 24 diner down the street. And the rest is history

“Obviously I don’t know and oh my god don’t look but—” You try saying before Jungkook is completely turning his head around to look. Classic Jungkook.

“Oh hey Tae.” Jungkook says in The Kim Taehyungs direction. Taehyung walks up to your table, you thought the sun only highlighted his beauty but up close he is the sun. You knew it was a magical thing.

“Hey guys! “ Taehyung stands there as bright as a fucking light, waving at you and your best friend. Oh yeah, did we forget to mention Jungkook is also friends with said Kim Taehyung? Okay, so maybe talking to Taehyung shouldn’t be that hard, since you share the same fucking friends. And you guys are technically friends too.

“Sup dude.” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly, picking up his coffee mug once again. His long fingers wrapping around the porcelain, warming him up. You watch as Jungkook takes a sip of his beverage with his doe eyes on you, he nods his head towards Taehyung and winks at you as he gulps down the drink. Of course, he’s teasing you.

“Hey y/n!” Taehyungs smile shines so brightly you want to actually kill yourself. What is up with this dude and being so blinding?

“Hey Taehyung…” you gulp your coffee awkwardly, giving him a small wave of the hand.

“y/n I told you to call me Tae!”

“Right…” you chuckle into the coffee creating bubbles of the liquid like the fucking pathetic lil thang you are.

Yeah, talking to The Kim Taehyung is not your specialty. Never was.

2 years ago

Your head is buried in books on the table of your campuses library with Jungkook fast asleep next to you. Statistics shouldn’t be this hard but it fucking is and you are groaning into your book, on the verge of pulling your hair out when a deep voice that rumbles your insides interrupts you—actually fuck it, you don’t feel like getting into a flashback. Just know that you met Taehyung (officially through Jungkook) and he ended up calling you pretty and you’ve thought about it every day since. Because you are pathetic. What’s new?

And that was it, that’s all it took for you to gain a massive crush on the boy.

“What’s up dude?” Jungkook asks again. He is now scrolling through his phone, probably swiping through Tinder, if you have to guess. And you’re right because he’s turning his phone towards you showing you some random girl, his wide eyes asking for your opinion. You roll your eyes and nod your head ‘yes’. As you can guess, this happens quite often.

“Ummm…” Taehyung runs a frustrated hand through his hair, you slowly tilt your head to soak him in when you notice he looks almost…panicked? “I need help with something actually,” but he isn’t looking at Jungkook as he says this, no. He’s looking at you.

“You see that girl at the counter over there? The one with long hair, not the other one.” He nods his head in the general direction while still remaining discreet.

You tilt your head to steal a glance at the counter and yes you do see the girl he is referring to. She’s got long brown hair that reaches her waist and man, she is gorgeous. Big, bright eyes. Full, pouting lips. Long legs and yeah, the works. Taehyung sure knows how to pick them. Did he need help to get her number of something? Like a wing woman? You mean, does he really need the help?

“Yes, I see her.” Is all you say to him and you expect him to ask you to go over there but instead he says,

“Great. I need you to be my girlfriend.”

You blink lazily at him as you process his words while Jungkook chokes on his drink.

“You want her to be your what?” Jungkook is the first to speak.

“My girlfriend.” He says again before his eyes go wide, “Like, like my fake girlfriend.” Taehyung turns a wonderful shade of red before his hand is reaching to scratch the back of his neck, chuckling to himself. “This girl—Anna…she is a bit obsessed? Ya know? Won’t leave me alone type thing and …and I have tried saying I have a girlfriend but she followed me to this coffee shop when she heard I was here. Like, who does that?”

Now it’s your turn to turn red, because you. You would fucking do that.

“That’s horrible Taehy—” you begin to say before Taehyungs large eyes pierce into your own, “Please y/n.”

“Anna???” Jungkook cuts in setting his phone on the table. “Like Anna Anna?” Jungkook squints his eyes at his friend before scoffing. “...She’s not doing it.” his eyes go between Taehyung and this girl Anna. “Don’t involve her in whatever game you—"

“I’ll do it.” You say, even surprising yourself. “I mean, it’s just pretend and for this moment so why not?” you begin to explain yourself. Plus for a few minutes you can pretend you’re really his girlfriend and your delusional mind will thrive off that.

Tae is quick to straighten his back and smile widely before he is ushering you to scoot over in the booth to let him in. “Scoot scoot” he whispers, grinning from ear to ear.

“Tae, you can’t be serious—” Jungkook is quick to say something, anything. His hands scrambling to grab his phone and hands it to Taehyung from across the table. “Here. Call up some other girl to do this. Don’t involve y/n.” Taehyung gives Jungkook a look of panic before Jungkook speaks up again, “Plus, y/n would be the worst fake girlfriend,” And that’s it. That’s all it takes. Jungkook’s constant negativity pisses you off so much that it drives what you say next.

“No need Taehyung.” You snatch Jungkook’s phone and shove it back in his hands. “Why don’t you call up one of your girls yourself and leave us alone?”

Jungkook looks at you shocked, his brows furrowing so deeply you are almost concerned for his face and the wrinkles that might set in.

“y/n…?” his stupid doe eyes look at you with so much confusion.

“I just mean, I can do this Jungkook. Don’t have to be so concerned.”

At that, Taehyung lights up.

“Great!” and his long arm wraps around your waist and when he was sure Anna is looking he leans in to plant a soft kiss to your cheek. “Thanks for doing this…” he whispers in your ear before placing another kiss.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s shocked ones. He looks like he just saw a ghost, all the color drained from his face as he watches you and Taehyung.

“Uh….” You don’t have any words for Taehyung—or Tae as he likes to be called.

You don’t even have the balls to glance his way, you don’t even have the balls to breathe in his direction.

“Look at me?” Taehyung’s finger is on your chin, guiding it towards his face.

“No…” Jungkook spurts out, “I mean, y/n don’t we have to go?” Jungkook looks at you with a look you’ve never really seen before. Maybe it’s desperation but you don’t really care.

“We don’t actually” you respond nonchalantly.

And with that you turn to face Taehyung more properly. His face is so close to yours it’s almost suffocating.

“What is it…Tae?” you try out his nickname for the first time. His cheeks flush and he scoots back just an inch.

“Thank you for doing this but…” his eyes slide to the side, eyeing Jungkook. “I was thinking we could do this for a couple of weeks, at the least. Ya know, to make it believable.”

Surprising you and Taehyung, Jungkook rises from his seat at the booth,

“y/n let’s go.” He simply states, not even looking at you. Taehyung looks panicked as you look between the boys.

“Tae…” you started to say before Jungkook reaches over the table to grab your wrist, “Come oooooooonnnnn” But you are quick to yank it back.

“Stop Jungkook, you’re being childish.”

Taehyung tightens his hold on you, “Yeah Kookie, sit back down…please.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at Taehyung, giving him a look that screams ‘are you serious?!’

“Childish? Okay.” He gives you a look of disappointment before grabbing his phone and his bag and walking away from the table. You watch in disbelief as Jungkook’s figure disappears from your view. What was up with him?

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s going on with him…”

“Right…” Tae responds quietly, his grip on your waist loosening up. “He’s just really protective over you, huh?” Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation, “y/n. I’m serious, let’s do this. I’ll pay for your coffee for the next month if you do this with me. Please, I am quite literally begging you.” He breathes out through his nose in an attempt to laugh. “She won’t leave me alone otherwise.”

You bite your lip in deep thought, your brows pulled together. Taehyung couldn’t help but find you cute.

“For a month? What happened to a few weeks?” you ask, a playful smirk gracing your features.

Taehyung couldn’t help the grin that made its way on his face.

“1 month.” He breathes out. “Unless you fall in love with me during that time and beg for more time….” He pokes his tongue out, his teasing tone going straight to your lady bits. If only he knew.

“Fine, but we should set some ground rules…don’t you think?”

“Okay. Like what?”

“Oh…I don’t—”

Taehyung raises a brow, “Don’t say something stupid like ‘no kissing’…because we want to make it as realistic as possible, don’t we?” he leans in just a bit more. Without Jungkook around Taehyung seems a bit more confident.

“Oh, you want to kiss me then?”

“It’s just for show. We don’t gotta think too hard about it.” His face inches closer and closer.

“Love…” you say, in a complete daze. Too lost in Taehyungs big brown eyes.

“What about it?” he doesn’t blink, just continues to stare into your eyes.

“We…would if one of us catches feelings? Then we should stop it, right?” You choke out.

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as an impossibly cute giggle escapes his lips, “You’re so cute. How many romcoms have you watched to come up with that line?”

“I’m serious.” You push your head back, “This could become hurtful if one of us falls in love…” You say this knowing it’s you. Well, obviously. Just because Taehyung called you pretty 2 years ago doesn’t mean he likes you.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Taehyung gets close again, “I’ll tell you.” And then he leans in, just an inch from your face. His lips hovering over your own and you can see his eyes still on you, like he’s silently asking for permission. You can’t help the nod of your head and you, yourself don’t stop yourself from leaning in.

Taehyungs lips are just as soft as you had always imagined. His lips only peck yours, the kiss is short but sweet. Once he pulls back you see his eyes slide to the counter where that Anna girl stands, and a look of relief washes over his features.

“Thank God, she bought it. She looks pissed,” he laughs loudly, “She saw us and is totally storming out!”

Oh, right. This is all for show.

“Oh, good.”

“Thanks y/n!” Taehyung’s smile is so wide it takes up the entire booth. He goes in for a quick hug, pulling back he smiles again before reaching his hand to pat your head.

“You’re a good girl.” He says and slips out of the booth. Welp, you wish those words didn’t go straight to your vagina.

“Uh, thanks.” You sputter out, not entirely sure what just happened.

“See you later?” he asks then his face lights up, “I’ll bring you a coffee.”

“Well, that is the deal.” You shoot him some pathetic finger guns.

You stare down at your now cold coffee, and look across from you at the now empty booth where Jungkook once sat.

“I’ll text you with more details later!” he shakes his phone in his hand,

“Bye bye…girlfriend.” He finishes off with a wink and skips, yes fucking skips away.

You are left alone at your table, with an empty seat across from you and a cold coffee. And now a fake boyfriend with the guy you have a massive crush on. This couldn’t possibly go all wrong, could it?

~~~

“This is definitely going to go all wrong, you realize that, right? This is a bad idea y/n and you know it.”

Jungkook’s legs are swung over your own as he lays on the couch, his focus on his phone in his hands. He wears his gray puma sweat suit you love so much and smells exactly the same as always—clean laundry and his own musk. You can’t help but eye him over, his dark strands of hair falling into his eyes as he bobbles his head to rid himself of the stray pieces. You aren’t blind, Jungkook is like, crazy hot and sometimes your staring can become a problem.

“Like, ‘we can’t fall in love with each other’” he mocks, “What sort of bullshit? You already in love, aren’t you?” he peeks over his phone to get a look at you waiting for some sort of rejection of his words.

“It’s just a crush, Jungkook.”

“Sure.” His eyes go back to his screen. “You’re pretty dumb for doing this.”

“Did I mention we kissed?”

“Only 100 times now you sicko.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and you can’t help but giggle.

It’s no secret that Jungkook is against this—whatever this is. He always has been…ever since you mentioned it 2 years ago sophomore year.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?!” you ask in disbelief.

You just confessed your little crush on Taehyung to Jungkook, the two of you sitting across from one another in the library when he rolls his eyes, obviously annoyed.

“Can you not yell? We’re literally in a library. And I don’t feel like getting kicked out this week…again.” He rolls his pen between his fingers as he speaks.

“Okay one: that’s your own fault for getting caught with your hand down some girls pants. And Two: what do you mean ‘no’?”

“Taehyung is off limits for you.” He says, totally unbothered.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means, he’s my friend for one so gross, and also he’s kind of like…emotionally unavailable.”

You chew on your pen, wondering what that could mean. Like, he doesn’t date? He doesn’t ‘do’ relationships? He’s already in love with someone else?

“I’m not telling you.” Jungkook’s pen slides against his paper as he writes, “His life.”

Oh, you asked that out loud.

“Whatever Jungkook, it’s just a crush.”

It feels nice to have a crush on someone other than…

Ding

Your phone goes off and you hurry to check it. What? It could be Taehyung wanting to go over the details of the ‘plan’. But much to your disappointment it was just Jimin.

Jimin 9:42pm

Where are you guys? Party has BEEN started girl

Y/N 9:42pm

We’re about to leave babe, see you soonish

Jimin 9:43pm

You guys fuckin? *smirk face emoji*

Y/N 9:43pm

Did you just…write smirk face emoji instead of putting the emoji itself

Y/N 9:44pm

Also how many times do I have to tell you JK and I aren’t like that

Jimin 9:45pm

Whatevs, see you soon babe xoxo

You set your phone down in your lap, your fingers going to massage Jungkook’s calves as you sneak a glance at him, he closes his eyes in satisfaction as you continue massaging the muscle.

“We gotta get go—also, that’s now what you’re wearing right?”

“Not going tonight. But have fun.” Jungkook sets his phone on his chest, letting out a long breath while folding his arms behind his head. He looks comfortable like, you almost believe him that he’s really staying in.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N why don’t we just stay in tonight?” He whines, he unfolds his arms and reaches for your hand. “Let’s go buy a 12 pack, get fucked up and just ya know, stay in.” Though this doesn’t sound like a bad idea, it also sounds like every Friday night with the two of you and you want to do something different tonight. But it would take some convincing. You interlock your fingers with his and he melts at your touch, his dopey smile growing.

“It’s a good idea, right?” he says, blinking up at you.

You smile back, tilting your head just the slightest before your smile drops altogether.

“No.”

“Ugh!” Jungkook throws his head back on the sofas armrest, “Why are you like this?”

“You still love me.” You chirp swinging his legs off yours and standing to your feet.

“Now get dressed and I promise that I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the weekend and you can bring whatever poor girl back to the apartment.”

Oh yes, your best friend is also your roommate. You’ve been living together for the last year—it just made the most sense. He was always over at yours or vise versa. So it made the most sense to save money and just room together. It worked out almost perfectly—almost. He paid his half of rent on time, he cleaned the dishes, he did laundry. Wait a minute, what the hell did you offer? That’s beside the point, the best of all he was always there when you needed him. The one downfall…the girls he brought over.

It got so bad that you couldn’t even sleep. You get it, your best friend is obviously…gifted. If the girls whines and moans and screams were any indication. So you had to set some rules for your sanity! For one, the other must always warn the other when bring home a person for the night. And two, its best if the other is already like, not home. Jungkook quickly agreed…something about how he doesn’t want to hear you either.

So, offering to be gone all weekend so he can have as much sex in his bed as he wants is probably going to be convincing enough.

You study Jungkook’s features, his brows pinched together almost comically, and his lips formed into the cutest pout.

“All weekend?” he asks, kicking imaginary rocks with his feet. “Like, no interruptions?”

“No interruptions you absolute whore.”

“Fine, deal.” He looks into your eyes and something flashes across them that you cant pinpoint. “I guess I’ll get dressed…but wait, where will you stay?”

“Probably with Jimin.” You shrug.

“Hm, okay.” Jungkook walks towards his room while lifting his sweatshirt over his head and throwing it behind him, the article of clothing landing on the floor. “And you’re doing laundry.”

“Brat.” You say rolling your eyes but you can’t help but smile.

You don’t take long to get ready yourself, you settle for a casual look tonight…okay, semi-casual, meaning you’re wearing jeans but you are wearing a nice, low cut blouse that shows a generous amount of cleavage. It’s your go to titty shirt. You aren’t really looking to get laid tonight or anything but you do want onlookers to wish you were.

You bounce your knee up and down while sitting on the sofa as you not so patiently wait on your bff, you call out for him but he only yells back that you need to like, chill out. After what feels like forever, the creak of his bedroom door opening can be heard and you quickly stand to your feet to face him.

“Woah.” Is all you manage to say as Jungkook walks out of his room, his cologne filling the air around you. “You look…” you can’t even finish your sentence without Jungkook’s stupid smirk already on his face. His pants are skin tight, the material practically melted on to his thick thighs that are deliciously exposed thanks to rips and holes. His plain white tee is accompanied by a fine leather jacket and his hair is split down the middle, the waves adorning his face. He looks damn good. And you both fucking know it.

“I look?” he teases, walking closer to you. His cologne suffocating your nostrils but you aren’t upset about it.

“You look…fine. You look better than before at least.” You choke out. It’s not that Jungkook is capable of making you nervous but sometimes he has this aura about him…no, you don’t even want to get into it. Those are thoughts you’ve trained yourself to push away.

“Whatever.” His eyes skim over your body shamelessly, “You look fine too.” He winks, walking past you.

“Ready to go?” he calls out over his shoulder. You can’t help but watch his tight ass walk away. Did you really say tight ass? Well it is!

“Yeah, lemme grab my purse and uh, uh we can go. You’re driving.”

~~~

“About fucking time, sluts.”

“Hello to you too, Jiminie.” You crack a smile as your friend goes in for a quick but tight hug.

When Jungkook finally introduced you to all his friends the one you hit it off with the most was good ol’ Jimin. He immediately became one of your closest friends.

“Yo Park.” Jungkook’s eyes are all around the place, not even sparing Jimin a glance. No doubt looking for his girl for the night already. What? It’s a safe assumption.

“Jeon.” Jimin rolls his eyes playfully. “You guys took forever, too busy fucking?”

You hit Jimin’s shoulder with your own, giving him a look that says you’ll scold him later.

“She wishes.” Jungkook finally puts his attention on the two of you, a wide smile growing on his face.

“Shut up.”

“What? It’s true! Oh my god Jimin, you should of seen her face when she saw me walk out in this fit.” Jungkook stands tall, hands grabbing onto the material of his leather jacket,

“She was like “oh my god Jungkook you look so go—” You go to hit his stomach with your fist but thanks to his rock hard abs you only end up hurting yourself. “Fuck! Ow! What’s under your shirt?” you yell over the music.

“Oh baby, you can find out. Should we go upstairs? I know a room.” He says with a wink.

The words ring a bell of familiarity in your head, each syllable echoing softly. A small smile forms on your lips and Jungkook gives you the softest smile in return. Did he just say the same line he used on you 3 years ago when you two met?

3 years ago

The music is booming so loudly you can’t even hear yourself think. This isn’t your first frat party and probably won’t be your last but you just can’t get use to it. You let your dormmate drag you to this stupid party only for her to ditch you in the first 10 minutes. Great.

You weave through the crowd trying to locate the kitchen to get your hands on the strongest drink you can find, lord knows you need it.

The kitchen is just as crowded as the rest of the house unfortunately. So many bodies. Bodies doing shots. Bodies doing shots off other bodies. Bodies playing games. Bodies grinding against other bodies. So many fucking bodies. It is honestly overwhelming. You walk towards the punch bowl, reaching for a red solo cup when another hand bumps into yours.

“Whoops sorry, go ahead.” The hand is attached to this boy—or man? Should you say man? He sure looks like one. He eyes you up and down before smiling down at you.

“Freshmen?” he asks.

You slump your shoulders, “Do I really look that outta place?” you pout.

“It’s not that…I just have a way of knowing.” He laughs. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

Namjoon, huh? He is cute that was for sure. “Y/N.” you say placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Pretty!” he smiles, then his eyes look behind you. “Ay! Jungkook! What did I say?! No more Keg stands!!!!” Then Namjoon’s eyes are back on you, “Sorry Y/N gotta go, gotta take care of this brat.” Then walks past you to this mysterious Jungkook person.

Your eyes follow Namjoon as he rushes to whoever this Jungkook guy is. Namjoon pulls him to the side obviously scolding him for apparently doing too many keg stands. Jungkook looks like a small child who is about to get grounded, and you can’t help but giggle. Unfortunately, this caught Jungkook’s attention. He looks straight at you, his eyes narrowing. Wait a minute. You recognize him! He definitely looks like the same guy from your Lit class on Tuesday and Thursdays. Yup, you get one long good look at him and he is definitely the same heartthrob of a dude from your class. All the girls go crazy for this guy, you mean, you guess you get it. He is really hot. He’s got on a black t shirt and some ripped jeans, and tousled hair.

Jungkook looks at you again with furrowed brows then smirks. Fuck, you were staring. And got caught. You see Jungkook pat Namjoon on the shoulder a few times then walk past him, much to Namjoon’s annoyance.

And he’s walking towards….you. FUCK. In a total panic, you twirl around to face the wall, yes the fucking wall when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“’Scuse me?” a voice says from behind you. You’re not going to play dumb, you know who the voice probably belongs to. You stay facing the wall, like a fucking weirdo.

“Wanna turn around?” his voice is light and teasing and you can’t help the long release of breath before turning to face him. Wow. Up close he’s even more handsome….

“Hi?” you sputter out, completely unaware of how lame and shy you sound.

“Hey, like what you see?” he nods his head in the direction he just came from, clearly amused.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Apparently playing dumb is how you decide to go about this. You stare at him with a blank expression, swaying from side to side. Lucky for you it’s in beat with the music so you look kind of cool. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I mean, you kept staring at me so.”

“No, its…it’s not like that”

“Then, what’s it like?”

“I just…I thought I recognized you so…” you wipe your sweaty hands on your black denim skirt. “That’s all.” You finish, still looking at him like you haven’t done anything weird tonight.

“Anderson’s Lit class right?” he asks with a pointed look. “I recognized you too.” His smirk does things to your lower half but you shouldn’t be admitting that right now.

“Oh?” is all you manage to say.

Jungkook studies you for a few moments, his gaze so dark and intimidating and you feel so flushed with his eyes on you. Then he groans with fingers rushing through his messy hair,

“Do you understand this week’s assignment?”

He…he wants to talk about school?

“Yes, I do. Because this assignment is wack as fuck.”

OH. You must of asked that out loud.

“Yes, you did.”

Oh, that too.

“Umm, yeah. What aren’t you understanding?” you finally say something relevant.

“It’s just more like, I think it’s a stupid assignment.” He chuckles, “Oh, you got something—” he reaches his hand forward to your hair, his fingers brushing through your long strands, pulling back with a piece of string. “Got it.” He says with a sly smile.

HOW CHEESY!!!! But like, it still made the heartbeat in your vagina go boom boom.

“Ya know…” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours as he talks. You actually don’t even know what he is talking about but his lips move so quickly you try to follow them. Your eyes on his lips the whole time, you don’t even realize it.

“…and that’s why I think it’s stupid.” He finally finishes with an obnoxious laugh. “Hey—hey are you even listening?” he says, his lips in a pout. You would know because they are all you’ve been staring at.

“Huh?” you blink lazily up at him, “Oh. Yeah. I totally agree.”

Jungkook stares at you seriously for a second before breaking out into a cackle, yes a cackle like he’s some hysterical witch. Which sounds really unattractive but honestly you’re digging it.

“It’s okay, you weren’t listening. I guess I’m not that interesting, huh?”

“No no! You are!” You’re quick to say, your hands waving frantically in front of you.

“Oh? So you do find me interesting?” he smirks, folding his arms across his chest.

You scoff at his words, appreciating his moves on you with a sly smile.

“Are you always this smooth?” you ask, a light teasing tone laced in your voice.

“Oh baby, you can find out. Should we go upstairs? I know a room.” He teases back.

Feeling so at home lost in your memories with Jungkook, you finally break free from the flashback. For some reason that’s a flashback you don’t mind reliving.

“Smooth.” You grin at Jungkook, you can’t help the blush that paints itself on your cheeks.

“For you? Always.” He grins back. You two just stare at one another, basking in the memories of your friendship.

“Okay, enough.” Jimin cuts in, his hands on both yours and Jungkook’s shoulders, “Either actually get a room and finally fuck or get on with your nights.”

You and Jungkook exchange awkward glances before turning towards the living room to join the party. Jimin is left at the houses entrance by the front door, totally dumbfounded. “these two idiots…” he scoffs under his breath, his eyes rolling so far back into his head.

Hours pass and you know what? The party isn’t as lame as you thought it might be. You are lost in the music on the living rooms dance floor with a red solo cup in one hand and your phone in the other.

“y/n!” you hear the call of one of your closest girlfriends.

“Trina!!!” you stumble towards her with a lopsided grin, you reach for her bringing her in for a long hug.

“Woah, someone’s drunk.” She laughs her loud laugh that you love so much. “And damn, the titty shirt is out tonight? Nice.”

“Not drunk” you giggle, and then continue to giggle again for no apparent reason.

“Right…” Trina slaps your back enthusiastically, “Where’s…” she then lowers her voice with a smirk, “lover boy?”

“who? Jungkook?” you ask with the tilt of your head.

Trina’s head pushes back with a confused expression, “What? No! I’m talking about…” she lowers her voice again, “Taehyung!”

OH. Right. You had texted Trina as soon as the whole ordeal with Taehyung unraveled. She knows of your long time crush and totally supports the idea of fake dating because as she puts it:

“Girl! This is your chance! Show him what a great girlfriend you would be, he would totally fall in love with you for real for real.”

And you have to say, you like where her head is at. Complete opposite of what Jungkook is always saying.

“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t see him around.” You sway side to side, your lit up phone catching your attention.

Jungkook 1:22am

Don’t come home tonight ;)

You can’t help but roll your eyes. How is he so quick?

Y/N 1:23am

Alreadyasydy tslked 2 Jiminie, staying w hum toniteeee.

Jungkook 1:24am

y/n…you’re not too drunk right?

Jungkook 1:27am

y/n????

You are back to shaking your ass with Trina by your side, the bass of the music thumping so loudly you can feel it vibrate your whole body. Body after body pushes into you, causing you to stumble every few seconds. But your grip on your refilled solo cup doesn’t loosen, not as you chug back your drink.

“Gonna grab another!” you slur, nodding your head towards the kitchen. Trina only gives you a thumbs up as she continues to dance with some random girl.

The walk to the kitchen feels like it’s taking forever, the way the walls swirl around you makes you feel sick. You stagger through the kitchens walk way when you feel two arms wrap around your middle.

“My girlfriend!” You hear the slur of words in your right ear, loud and clear.

You turn in the man’s hold with squinted eyes,

“Oh hi Tae.” You giggle, encasing him in a hug. Drunk y/n is way more confident. For some reason seeing him like this you don’t feel as nervous or awkward. Then you feel it. The weird, uncomfortable pang in your chest. Why is that? You look up at Taehyung when the sensation of guilt begins to surface. You remind yourself of the mission you’re on, completely ignoring the inner truth that tries to bubble over and smile at him.

Taehyung looks down at you with a goofy grin, his fingers digging into your waist to keep you steady.

“Oh, you’re drunk drunk.” He teases.

“Am not!” you shake away your confusing thoughts and giggle some more. “wanna take a shot with me?” you excitedly ask him, nodding in the direction of the liquor bottles.

“Hell yeah girl!” he says, taking your hand and leading you towards the counter.

“Y/N are you okay????” Taehyung voice is laced in concern as he holds you. Yes, the Kim Taehyung is holding you. “Shit, I shouldn’t have let you drink this much….” But like in a totally pathetic way.

“You…” you lean back, hitting his chest with your pointer finger, “Don’t tell me how much I can or can’t drink!” your voice buzzes as you fall forward but Taehyung catches you again.

“Right right…” he chuckles but then he looks concerned again. “We need to get you home…let’s call Jungkook.”

“No! we caaaannnnoottt do that…” your words are all jumbled together, Taehyung has a hard time understanding you.

“Where’s your phone?”

“Back pocket.” You wink. Like a fucking sleaze.

Taehyung looks conflicted, but in the end he reaches around for your phone and turns it on.

“Holy shit y/n… you have 8 missed calls from Jungkook. And whole lotta texts.”

Jungkook 1:30am

Are you okay??

Jungkook 1:40am

y/n…Youre a big girl so ill just assume youre okay.

Jungkook 3:02am

Just talked to jimin and you aren’t with him?? where are u??

Jungkook 3:18am

Answer your fukin phone

Jungkook 3:23am

Are you still at the party?

Jungkook 3:41am

You aren’t with Trina either? y/n where are you?

Jungkook 4:00am

Don’t make me go back there….pls just answer your phone so I know if youre like, idk fucking alive

Jungkook 4:10am

Fine im going to look for you

“Fuck.” Taehyung hisses under his breath. “I gotta call him…I’m gonna call him okay?”

Your eyes go comically wide at Taehyungs words.

“No!”

“too late” he says, the phone to his hear.

“Hey man, no its me…Taehyung, yeah…yeah….she….” Taehyung eyes you carefully as he speaks on the phone, “She’s fine. She just has had maybe too much to dri—” Taehyung drags a hand down his tired face, “No for fucks sake I didn’t do anything to her. Really dude?”

You lean into Taehyungs space, trying to put your ear to the phone as well and Taehyung can’t help but laugh.

“I read all your texts to be honest…if you have a girl over…what? No, I’m saying y/n can just stay with me…”

Stay with Taehyung? That should make your heart race but—

You think all the alcohol is catching up to you at once and the world becomes even more blurred and a spinning mess. You would give anything to be cuddled up in your blankets with Jungkook taking care of you—wait, no. You don’t need Jungkook to take care of you. You have a perfectly good Taehyung who just offered his place to you.

“I swear man, I’ll take care of h—” Taehyung rolls his eyes, “she might be too drunk to talk….okay, I’ll ask her.” Taehyung lowers the phone and faces you.

“y/n.”

“Hm?” you blink lazily, swaying into Taehyungs chest. Oh no. You feel it, you feel the nausea building up in your tummy, making its way up your chest. On a scale of 1 to 10 how dead would you die if you threw up on Taehyung?

“Do you want Jungkook to come pick you up?”

Jungkook? Like, your Jungkook? Unfortunately for you, your eyes gloss over and probably also unfortunate for Taehyung as well as he looks at you with an alarmed expression . You feel sick. You want to go home. You want to sit on your bathroom floor and throw up in the toilet with Jungkook sitting next to you while he hums a soft tune to soothe you.

“Y-Yes.” You murmur shyly, you begin to sniffle and Taehyung begins to panic.

“Okay man yeah come pick her up.”

“want Jungkook…” you say as a few tears spill over. You are trying your hardest to keep the puke down but its threatening to exit your poor drunk body.

“I think she’s gonna be sick so please hurry…” Taehyung rushes to say over the phone before hanging up.

The next few minutes are a blur, you know Taehyung rushes you to the bathroom. He is overly sweet the whole time you see nothing but blurred, spinning images. He holds your hair back as your body threatens to release tonight’s dinner and says comforting words but nothing makes you feel better. The puke won’t make its guest appearance and your whole world is spinning at a inhumane pace. You’re about to give up on life and fall to the bathroom floor of this gross frat house and try to sleep when you hear him.

“Lemme in dude.” It’s Jungkook. You stir from your sleepy state and turn your head towards the door. He barges in, his eyes landing on you and they soften. He immediately falls to the floor to caress the back of your head and you immediately begin to sob. The tears are out of your control as they slide down your cheeks.

“Don’t...don’t...feel good.” You say between wails, gripping desperately onto his shirt.

“I know baby, I know.” He pulls you into his chest, his hand soothingly running up and down your back. “Has she thrown up yet?” Jungkook looks up at Taehyung with expectant eyes. Taehyung is so caught off guard while watching the two of you.

“uh, no.”

“Okay, can you leave us alone for a while?” Jungkook says somewhat harshly then his features soften as he whispers “She will probably be embarrassed later if you saw…”

“Right.” Taehyung says, his worried expression not going unnoticed by Jungkook. Then Taehyung is on his way out, but he turns one last time to get a look at you.

“feel better y/n” then he is out the door, shutting it behind him.

“Okay y/n…remember what you gotta do?”

“finger?” you slur.

“Yup. Put your finger…yes like that,” he says as you begin to push your finger down your throat to get yourself to throw up.

“I promise you’ll feel better.”

You begin gagging on your finger as you finally throw up in the toilet, Jungkook rubbing your back the entire time giving you words of encouragement.

“Good girl, good girl.” He whispers.

Your face is a fucking mess. Your makeup smeared beyond belief. The black streaks from your tears marking your cheeks in the most horrific way. Jungkook watches you as you cry into his lap on the floor, his heart breaking at the sight. He hated when you drank too much and got like this. He should of never left you alone tonight.

“Jungkook?” you choke out, your tears still spilling from your dark eyes.

“Hm?” he responds, his fingers brushing back your hair.

“Did I ruin your night? Or did you still get some?” you chuckle pathetically.

“Don’t worry about that.” He brushes more hair out of your face, he lifts your head up and places it on a towel. He stands to his feet at the sink, reaching for a towelette and running it under warm water.

“Gonna clean your face okay?” he warns softly.

“kay…” you close your eyes when you feel the wet warmth of the towelette on your cheek. Jungkook is careful to clean you delicately, wiping away the makeup and leaving you spotless.

He’s back under you, your head in his lap and his hands back in your hair.

“you told me you were going to be with Jimin tonight yet you were with Taehyung…”

“It just happened like that” you whisper, sleep beginning to take over.

“I was…really worried about you when I didn’t hear from you, stupid.”

You smile at his words, his touch making you melt.

“Ya know, you’re not the only one allowed to get some Jungkook. I can be like you and have sex too if I want.”

“What are you talking about?” his hand stops in your hair.

“Would if I was getting some? That’s why I didn’t answer?”

“Were you?” his voice is low.

“Well, no—”

“Okay good.”

“Why is that good? Hm?” you open your eyes just a little bit, taking in the hazy world. “Wish it was you I was getting it on with?” you say quietly.

“You’re drunk.”

“I wanna go home.”

“take a nap first, okay?” his fingers begin playing in your hair again, “I’ll wake you up in 30 minutes.”

Your eyes are already closed when he says this, sleep already welcoming you in its warm embrace. “Kay” you murmur.

Jungkook plays with your hair as you snooze in his lap, he watches the rise and fall of your chest and wonders what it would be like to lay his head on it and sleep too.

Bbrrrr bbbrrrrr bbrrrr brrrrrr

A phone call. The most horrifying buzzing occurs next to your face as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Wait, how did you get home last night? You remember drinking and dancing the night away, you remember hanging out with Taehyung…oh no, you remember Jungkook coming to the rescue. Oh no...

You try to open your eyes, but the light from the sun is too damn blinding. You squint at what is in view. Right in front of you, you see black locks of hair poking out of the blanket, a dark blue blanket. You recognize this blanket. Jungkook’s blanket. You are in Jungkook’s bed. With Jungkook. This isn’t so surprising, you imagine you had refused to sleep in your own bed last night—

Bbbrrrr bbbrrrr brrrr brrrrr

Right. Your phone.

You fumble the phone trying to pick it up and answer it when Jungkook groans next to you,

“Hurry up and answer it” he says, sliding deeper under the covers.

“Hello?” you croak out, your voice hoarse and honestly? Disgusting.

“Hey y/n!” This voice is way too damn chipper for whatever ungodly hour it is.

“Tae?”

“Good afternoon sleepy head! Did I wake you?” Afternoon? What time is it? You pull the phone away from your face to check the time.

2:06pm

Holy shit, you’ve slept the day away.

“No no,” you lie, “Just in bed…” you say sitting up from where you lay.

“Great! Do you think maybe I could…come over? We can discuss the whole fake dating thing.” He chuckles into the phone. COME OVER? Immediately you begin smoothing down your hair with your free hand and start to peel back the covers to get out of bed.

“Umm, when?” you glance over at sleeping Jungkook, his face mostly hidden behind the blanket.

“Maybe around 6? I could cook you dinner? I know you had a rough night…”

Fucking great. You don’t want to think of last night, you will die of fucking embarrassment.

“yeah…listen, you don’t have to do all that—”

“I want to!” Taehyung is quick to cut you off, “As your boyfriend—fake boyfriend it is my duty to take care of you!” you feel like you can see the boxy smile on his face. It makes you motherfucking swoon.

“Okay then, 6.” You smile into the phone. “Bye tae.”

You bring the phone down into your lap, clicking the end button. Dinner with Taehyung? Like a date? You can’t help but feel internally giddy at the thought. You squeal for a second before Jungkook speaks up.

“What’s at 6?” he peeks from under the covers, his voice husky and groggy.

“Oh… nothing” you sing, a bright smile on your face.

“Something with Tae?” he begins to sit himself up as well.

“We’re just going to have dinner and talk about the whole fake dating thing.” You beam.

“You’re still doing that shit?”

Automatically you go from super excited to annoyed. Only Jungkook can do that to you.

“It’s harmless, Jungkook. Plus…”

“plus what?” he raises a single brow.

“Trina says this is a good opportunity…”

“y/n I have told you not to get too involved with this guy, but you don’t listen to me.” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest, then bows his head down in defeat.

“But whatever, learn your fucking lessons by yourself.”

You can’t help but feel like Jungkook is once again looking down at you, like you aren’t good enough for Taehyung. Your breaths become unsteady as you just stare at your best friend like he isn’t constantly hurting your feelings on the matter.

“I—I will be fine. I want him, Jungkook. And this is—this is a good opportunity to show him I can be a good enough girlfriend ya know—”

“Just stop.” Jungkook cuts you off in a harsh tone. “I never said you weren’t good enough? You’re just not what he wants.” Jungkook can see how his words break you further. “Fuck. Forget I said that, y/n…”

“Why can’t he want me?”

Jungkook hates just how quietly you ask that…he hates how defeated you sound, how defeated you look…your head hanging low with no attempt to even look at him.

“He’s just…”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t answer that” You stand from the bed and begin walking towards his door. You look down to see you’re wearing nothing but Jungkook’s t shirt and some panties, you groan at your own shamelessness when you hear the rushed ruffling of the comforter behind you and the plop of feet landing on the ground. Jungkook stands behind you, his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Just move on y/n…”

I’m fucking trying to, is what you want to say but instead you opt for a harsh ‘leave me alone’ as you exit his room.

You spend the next couple of hours pampering yourself, you had a rough night and you totally deserve a piece of cake, this bubble bath and face mask. You want to feel relaxed but you can’t get the image of Jungkook out of your head. You hate it when the two of you fight. You mean, to others this would hardly come off as a ‘fight’ but you and Jungkook never really have negative energy. So, yes. It’s a fight. He’s the last person in the world you want to fight with. Yet here you are.

But then the image of Taehyung cooking you dinner enters your mind and somehow you feel a little more at ease. Was this a date? You giggle to yourself, blowing bubbles that reaches your lips as you sink deeper into the tub. You have an hour before Taehyung was to arrive at your apartment…your shared apartment. God, you hope Jungkook takes a hint and goes and hangs out with Jimin or something.

You finally rise from the tub and dry off your now freshly cleansed body. The scent of lavender fills the air and you feel satisfied with how your bath turned out.

You read the clock…5:30pm and you know it’s time to get dressed.

You settle for some high waisted shorts and a white tank top with a purple bralette where the straps are generously shown. Looking into the mirror, you decide to do light makeup and tinted lip balm. You don’t want to try too hard for the boy you’re trying to woo.

And bam. 6pm right on the dot you hear the door being lightly knocked. You begin walking towards the front door but stop to see if Jungkook is in his room or not. He’s not. Relief washes over you as you continue to walk towards the front door. But where did he go? You’re relieved he isn’t home but feel anxious that you don’t know where he could have gone. Maybe to Jimin’s? Maybe to some random girls? Somehow this makes you feel more anxious. You shake away those thoughts and swing the front door open.

“Hey there.” Taehyungs boxy grin is enough to get you pregnant. Like, god damn. He looks amazing. He’s got dress pants and some floral shirt and his hair looks slightly wet. That’s not the only thing slightly wet. You internally cringe at your thought.

“Hey Tae, come on in.” you open the door wider to let the boy through. He walks past you and makes himself comfortable in the kitchen, setting down a bag of what you assume is probably groceries.

“You like spaghetti?” he asks excitedly, almost like a child.

“Who doesn’t?” you smirk walking his way and sitting down at the breakfast table. “Need any help?” you offer.

“Not at all.” Taehyung begins unpacking his things and gets to work in the kitchen. You watch in awe, your head nuzzled in your hands as he does his thing.

“Dinner was amazing Tae.” You go to compliment the chef. It really was. The noodles were long and soft and the sauce was very flavorful. Did you really just compliment the length and softness of fucking noodles? Wow, you are whipped. You almost wish Taehyung was your roommate and not useless in the kitchen Jungkook. Oh. Jungkook. The thought of him enters your mind and it has you hurting. You may be having a blast with your crush but you and your best friend are still in the middle of a fight. About said crush. But this really is your chance. You can get Taehyung to like you, maybe even fall for you. And you need this. You need this. So you can’t give up, no matter what Jungkook says.

“Not as amazing as you” Taehyung winks but then his face drops, “Sorry that was cheesy, wasn’t it?” he drags a hand down his handsome face. “I suck at flirting.”

You look up at him, completely intrigued.

“You’re trying to flirt with me?” you can’t help but to smile slyly.

“Of course I am!” Taehyung laughs loudly then reaches for his backpack in the chair next to his and pulls out a notebook.

“So I wrote some ideas for this whole fake dating thing.” He becomes just a tad more serious as a nervous grin lights up his face.

“Oh really? Should I have a look?” you say reaching for the notebook with grabby hands, “Gimme!”

Taehyung chuckles while pulling the notebook to his chest, “No! Miss Greedy.” He teases. “How about I just read them and we can discuss?”

“fine.” You pout, “Whatever you say.”

“Whatever I say? I like the sound of that.” He smirks then his eyes fall to the paper in front of him. “First, we should go on dates…like all the time. The more time we spend together the more believable it’ll be. Ya know?”

“Okay, makes sense. Makes sense.”

“Second, we should attend all parties together and leave together too.” Then his eyes go wide, “I just mean—like don’t worry, I’ll make sure I get you home.”

You can’t help but giggle, nodding your head to his words.

“Third, we should post each other on social media! For example, I can take a picture of tonight’s date and post it on the gram.”

“Tonight was a date?” you ask, a delighted smile making its way on your face.

“Well, yeah…” he answers shyly.

“anything else?” you question, leaning your head in your hands as you look into his big brown eyes.

“Well….. there is one more thing I wrote down….” He answers awkwardly. His eyes sliding to the side to avert your gaze.

“oh? What is it?” you try to take a peek at the paper, curiosity getting the best of you—as usual.

“I’ll just let you read it…” he then pushes the notebook on the table in your direction, you excitedly pick it up and skim the paper. You look at all the things he wrote down, smiling because he even added his own tips.

Buy her flowers.

Movie dates?

Netflix and chill

Cook her dinner

How cute. He even added little doodles. Your eyes continue to skim the page as your smile grows at how much thought he has put into this. Your heart is beating out of your chest…you know this is all fake and for show but you cannot help how happy its making you feel. You continue to smile and hum as your eyes skim lower and lower until you see the last thing on his list.

No Jungkook.

Huh? Your smile begins to falter. No Jungkook? What does that even mean? You look up to meet Taehyungs eyes. He’s already anxiously staring at you.

“I don’t understand?” you breathe out, “What does that mean?”

“No Jungkook.” He half whispers.

“You—you realize he is my best friend? Why no Jungkook?” you pinch your brows together in confusion.

“It’s just…” Taehyung begins to explain himself, “You two are awfully close. And people already get the wrong idea about you two. Like, all the fucking time. Even I think sometimes…that’s not important. It just means for one month, you’re mine. And I don’t want people to get the wrong idea if you’re always with Jungkook.” He pulls at the hair at his neck. “Is this making sense?” Taehyung looks flustered trying to get out all of his words.

“It would make me look pathetic don’t you think? That my supposed girlfriend is always with some other guy? I mean, y/n it’s just for one month…”

One month without Jungkook? Would you really choose a boy over your best friend? Even if only for a month?

“Tae… I don’t know.” You look down at your hands as your breathing begins to pick up.

“I can’t just abandon my best friend for an entire month…”

“I mean, you guys live together so it’s not like you won’t be seeing him. Just in public…ya know?”

Taehyung has a point, you try to reason. If you have a boyfriend it’s only natural to spend most of your time with them. But it still felt wrong. But… a part of you feels like this is a good idea, actually. You’ve always been meaning to put at least some distance between you and Jungkook, ya know, for your own sake. But this feels wrong. You’re about to decline his request when you hear the front door open and Jungkook’s shuffles in. He has his airpods in and doesn’t even spare you a glance. He walks straight to his bedroom and slams the door shut.

You feel embarrassed in front of your guest that your roommate and also yeah, your best fucking friend didn’t even acknowledge you.

“Uh, he’s in a mood” you try covering for Jungkook. Then you feel the buzz of your phone and you go to check it

Jungkook 8:02pm

Watching you fawn over him is just pathetic, but like, good luck.

All you see is red. Jungkook once again shitting on your love life and raining on your god damn parade. You know what? This is your chance with Taehyung and you aren’t going to let your bratty best friend ruin that for you.

“You know what, Tae?” you say setting your phone on the table.

“Yeah?”

“You’re right. I agree with your list.”

“Wait—you do? Even the Jung—”

“Yup.”

Taehyung tilts his head to the side as a wide grin makes its way across his face, “should we shake on it?” he asks with his hand pushed out in front of you.

You take his hand in yours, squeezing tightly before you pull him in and seal the deal with a quick kiss. Taehyung’s shocked expression makes you giggle, “Thought that would make it more official”

“I like having you as a girlfriend already.”

One month without Jungkook? Bring it on.

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader

[ceciliablossoms]

I just read the whiskey angst and i cried a bit 😭 can i request Fruit Punch + Absinthe after that the reader feel stressed and go for a walk outside but are attacked by Abiss Mages and seriously injured and Diluc / Childe / Kaeya is surprised when the reader return with a pathetic form but the reader don't want them to touch them pls 😭😭😭 REVERSE UNO

I genuinely wasn't expecting people to like that one enough to request a sequel. I originally had no intention of making a sequel but with so many people asking how can I not?

Haha.. I couldn't sleep again...

The Whiskey fic

TW: Mentions of Injury, Swearing, Self Hatred

Absinthe: “Get out of my sight! I don’t fucking want you here!”

Fruit Punch: “Why are you bleeding!? What the hell happened?!”

-------

Diluc

It had been several days since he had last seen them and honestly speaking the man was a mess. What he said hadn't fully sunk in until he finished his work and upon realising that he had made a severe error, a pit formed in his stomach.

He was extremely disgusted with himself. Nobody should ever talk to their significant other in such a way under any circumstances. Not only that but he had also called them a hindrance when they had only been trying to help him. Pathetic.

He ended up seeking them out, arriving at their small house in Mondstadt. He had approached their door as they were exiting their home. They visibly bristled.

As the days passed they wallowed less, sadness and dejection becoming anger. How DARE he have the AUDACITY to talk to them like that? To treat them as though they were holding him back?

“Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here!”

He didn't even flinch out their outburst. He deserved it, "I have... come to apologise for my actions. I-"

"Didn't mean it? Save your words. I don't wish to hear it." They pushed past him. "I'm going for a walk. Don't follow me."

He watched as they exited the gates, steam practically pouring from their ears. As much as he wished to apologise, craved to say that he was sorry, he was sure that they wouldn't have it. But, he sat on the stairs to their house regardless and waited for their return. Whether they would accept it or not he was still going to try to make amends.

He didn't know how long he sat there waiting but they still had yet to return. The worry had long set in, hitting its peak when there was a small commotion at the gate. They pushed past Swan, who was following after them in a panic.

They walked with a limp, blood seeping through the hand that clenched their shoulder tightly. A cut adorned their face from temple to jaw. It too was bleeding heavily.

Diluc approached them with haste, alerted by their state, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened!?"

They pushed past him too as he reached out to them, "Don't.... touch me..."

Diluc glared at Swan as a way to tell him to go back to his post. He jumped but obliged nonetheless as Diluc began to follow after them. Grabbing their non-injured shoulder in his gloved hand, he tugged them gently to stop them from moving.

His tone was stern, "You do not have to speak with me nor do you have to accept my apology. But you will get those injuries tended to even if I have to drag you to the church myself."

They pulled themselves from his grip, out of breath and tired, "Why is it that you care? I'm but a hindrance remember. Even as we speak I am obstructing you."

"If those were my feelings I wouldn't be here. I don't expect forgiveness but I would still like to let you know that what I said doesn't define how I feel for you. That is of little importance right now. Your injuries need to be dealt with"

They said nothing, looking off to the side. Sluggishly they move towards their home again, quietly ushering for him to follow. "I have plenty of medical supplies of my own." They paused, "When my injuries heal, I expect an apology in full. And as for my trust... You'll have to work for it."

He was relieved. Their words suggested that there was a still a chance for him.

-

Tartaglia

It took him a while to calm down. After all, he did tend to brood on things until they festered. At first, he only got angrier. Angry that the cheater got away with it. Angry that they sided with the cheater. Angry that they helped the cheater.

He thought about it more though, and the more he rationalised the more he calmed down. They didn't really side with him, did they? They only helped him because he would have bled out had they not. As much as he wanted to beat the man's ass all over again, he let it slide. Killing him would be a waste anyway. Instead he would let the man's near death experience serve as a reminder.

When he was fully calm, he sought them out, their words echoing in the back of his head. 'Talk to me when you're fucking sane', they had said. Had his actions truly made them feel that way? Or was it in anger just as his words had been?

He checked Bubu Pharmacy first, seeing neither them nor the cheater. He assumed it was because the cheater was in the back getting treatment and that they had gone on their merry way. The search continued.

His hunt continued all across the harbour and he was unable to tell if they were going out of their way to avoid him or if he was looking in all the wrong places. Finally, he resorted to asking around, getting a couple tidbits of information from some Milileth.

He was told that they were seen exiting the harbour and that seemed extremely miffed. So retracing their steps, he left the harbour as well, following along the path that led toward Guili Plains.

He continued to follow the path until Wangshu Inn appeared in the distance and quietly pondered why they came out this far. Something seemed off though. Halting his movements, he scanned the area, sapphire eyes landing on a familiar silhouette sitting at the base of an apple tree.

He was unaware of how long they'd been sitting there when he approached, but there they were an apple in hand. They finished mid chewing and spoke after they swallowed the fruit in their mouth.

"Get out of my sight. I don't fucking want you here." Despite their icy tone, he knew that they weren't angry anymore. They did, however, want to be left alone though he did not oblige.

His eyes travelled to the blood that coloured the grass beneath them. There was a teasing edge to his voice as he tried to lighten the mood, "Why are you bleeding? What happened, hm? Get in a fight without me?"

Finding each other bloody was nothing new to either of them and playing it up was a game of sorts. An inside joke if you will. Most of the time he acted like a worried spouse for them and vice versa, but at this moment it was genuine worry. They scoffed.

"Yes, but unlike you, I don't try to kill men on the street."

He held up his hands in defeat before sitting down across from them, "Not gonna let me live it down, are you?"

They rolled their eyes, leaning their head against the tree trunk, "It happened a few hours ago. But you get a free pass because I don't have the energy to debate right now."

He moved to check their injury and they slapped his hands away with a quiet 'Don't touch me'. Yet he continued to eye it warily, staring at their face as if to ask permission. His gaze was gentle, genuine worry spread across his face. They caved after several minutes, looking away.

Pulling their shirt up to reveal the injury on their hip, it appeared as though they tried to cauterize it. With a sigh, he stood and held his hand out to help then up. After a moment of hesitation, they accepted his hand and immediately after they stood he crouched in front of them and signalled for them to get on his back. They obliged and he carried them back to the city.

"Don't think that this means I forgive you for what you said to me."

For once he didn't feel like teasing, knowing that it wouldn't help mend the situation, "I know. I do wish to apologise though. My words were... unnecessary. I took my anger out on you."

"Damn right." They patted his head, "Though if you're a good boy I might forgive you faster."

He sighed, fully aware that they were going to use him as an errand boy for the next few days.

-

Kaeya

He continued after their encounter as though nothing had happened at all. The silence that filled his office after they left was deafening but he took the time to finish his work. All of the paperwork that had piled up and all the tedious remedial tasks had been finished, the rest of his duties taken care of as well.

Days passed before he finally decided to confront them, and over that period his the guilt over his cruelty toward them festered. He was fully aware that they were trying to help, trying to make his workload lighter, yet he still snapped at them.

If he hadn't taken out his frustration on them then the two would be together right now. If he had just let them help will all of it then we would have gotten done much faster and gotten to relax much sooner. The stack they did do, however, was the biggest one from the piles which did shorten the time he was working. If only he hadn't scared them away.

He began his search for them at their home, finding it empty. Thinking for a moment, he began to check the usual places they went when they were upset. As he headed to Windrise it turned out that he didn't have to look far, for they were limping over the bridge that led into the city.

They were bleeding heavily from their chest, hand clutching the wound with unspoken panic. He rushed toward them, reaching out to support their body weight.

His voice was demanding, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened?"

"It was just an Abyss Mage. Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here."

He knew he deserved their scalding words but that didn't stop him from trying. He held his tongue to stop a smart ass comment. Usually, he wouldn't hold back but he knew this wasn't the time.

"You may not want me here, but if you don't get some help you'll bleed out before you can make it to the cathedral." He spoke calmly despite his internal conflict, and they knew that he had a point.

Begrudgingly they leaned against him as he escorted them through town. Moving hurt as it aggravated their injury but it was necessary. As soon as they got inside the cathedral he called for Barbara who appeared around the corner. Her face contorted in horror as she escorted them to the infirmary.

Kaeya sat amongst the pews and waited, having an internal debate with himself. Would they forgive him? Would they even hear him out?

Hours passed before Barbara remerged with news of their condition. He could see them but they could not leave for a while. With caution, he entered, knocking on the door frame to get their attention.

They turned their head in his direction but scowled when they realised that it was him. "Do you need something?"

He hummed, "No but you do." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took their hands in his, "I wanted to apologise. Both for what I said to you and for taking your kindness for granted."

They stared him down but say nothing but sincerity in his eyes, "I'm listening."

He was slightly caught off guard by their response, nevertheless though it made him happy. They fact that they were willing to listen showed that there was a possibility for forgiveness.

#mine #drabble #100+ followers event #anon #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #childe #tartaglia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #tw swearing #tw mentions of injury #taliahallow #🌼

[fivelakesinwriting]

heyy!! love everything you write and would love to do this off anon but je suis shy 🤚 idk if you're taking requests for pope and i havent really thought this through but perhaps,, reader's kinda doing shit in school so pope offers to help (or she asks him to help idk) but she's pretty down bad since they barely get to spend time alone together so, uh, minimal studying ends up happening...

sorry for the crappy explanation but your last pop fic threw me for a loop 🙃

You are so sweet - do not have to be shy! I am always taking requests for our guy Pope. Thank you so much. You are the loveliest xoxo

Author's Notes: All characters are 18+ If I had a boyfriend like Pope I probably would have done better on my academics..maybe..If this was your request, I hope you love it !

Warnings: Sexual references - sexual innuendos *(Not full smut, but clothes are removed, and I suppose I eluded to unprotected sex - so be careful out there, your choice how!! )

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Pope tried not to get into his own head too much, or let JJ get into his head too much, when she had asked him over that night to help her study for an upcoming test.

"Dude. You know what that means, right? Come over and 'study'?"

His best friend's words rang in his head as he pedaled his bike through the Cut towards his new girlfriend's house. He was expecting nothing, and his book-bag was full of all the necessary notebooks and textbooks to help her prepare for his English exam this coming Thursday.

Pope knocked on the door of the small house and waited for a few minutes before he let himself in. Her parents weren't home, both of them pulling double shifts that day and her being an only child gave them more than enough time to be alone and study.

"You're not gonna study, dude."

Pope shook his head as JJ's words invaded his thoughts once more, then made his way through the short hallway at the front of the house and to the back towards her bedroom. He knocked on the door frame of her bedroom when he saw her pace the floor of her room, mumbling to herself.

"Hey. I'm here." He smiled softly as he placed his bag down on the floor by the doorway and walked in slowly.

"Pope. Thank, God." She breathed out at the sight of him. She walked over to him quickly and tossed her arms around his neck, pressed up on her toes to be closer to his height.

"Nervous?" He asked while he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder while he let her squeeze her as tightly as she could.

"Yes."

"Don't be. I have the best system for studying, and it's even helped JJ a time a two when he's actually wanted to study. So, you'll be fine. Better than fine." Pope stated firmly as he pulled out of her tight grip then reached back to grab his book bag for his study supplies that he brought with him.

"You're so sweet for helping me, Pope." She breathed out as she walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down, running her hands through her hair.

"Of course. You know I'm here for you." Pope smiled softly as he walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting next to her. He placed his notebooks on his lap and handed her his textbook, marked with sticky notes and highlighted to perfection.

They studied for a full 45 minutes before her impatience and pure frustration with the subject got the best of her. She let out a loud groan, taking the book and tossing it across the room before she flopped back on the bed.

"I'm never going to get it right." She sighed heavily as she tossed her forearms over her face. She always felt so inferior when it came to books and smarts compared to Pope. He was brilliant, and he tried to hard to help her understand her subjects.

"It's alright. You will. Sometimes you need to study in little increments as opposed to all at once. We can take a break." Pope smiled softly as he removed the books from her lap, and his own, then placed them on the floor by the edge of the bed.

Pope laid back on the bed beside her, his hands respectfully on his stomach as he looked over at his girlfriend who was still in the throes of an academic meltdown.

"You're smarter than you think you are. You put too much pressure on yourself." Pope stated softly, a small smile on his face as she finally pulled her arms off her pretty face and looked over at him.

"Not as smart as you." She whispered as she reached a hand over and began to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. She shifted her body so she laid on her side, propped up on one arm as she began to slowly unbutton his shirt.

"I - uh - I don't know if I would say that. You're really smart, and pretty. And like, really funny. Did I mention pretty? Because you're beautiful." Pope stammered as he looked from her face to her fingers as they pulled at the final button of his shirt.

"You've mentioned it a time or two." She nodded as she turned her body to straddle his hips, her hands pressed to his chest for leverage as she sat up straight.

"What are you doing?" Pope inquired softly as he sat upright, his hands on her hips as he let her wrap her arms around his neck.

"Study break?" She smiled as she began to push his shirt off of his shoulders, down to his elbows.

Pope let go of her hips in favour of shaking his hands out behind him, his shirt sliding off arms. He groaned when his girlfriend pressed her lips to his firmly, knocking him to his back again. Pope let out a long exhale through his nostrils as she pressed a firm kiss to his lips, his hands making their way to her backside to keep her in place on top of him.

"Your parents - " Pope breathed out as she began to kiss down his neck, her fingers trailing down his abdomen towards the button of his shorts.

"Mom is on late shift at the hospital, and my dad is driving a truck to Fortworth this week." She smiled into the crease of his neck as she felt him squeeze her backside over her shorts.

"Texas?" Pope asked with a heavy breath, his fingertips creeping up the back of her shirt.

"Long-haul trucker. You know that." She replied as she sat up, pulling her shirt over head.

"So, we're alone." Pope stated with his hands firmly on her hips while his eyes scanned over her chest in a bright yellow pushup bra.

"For a long time." She smiled with a nod, thumbing open the button of his shorts and then waiting. The tension between them thickened, both of them waiting for other to make the first move. They had been together before, more than a handful of times, but each time felt like the first time. That shortened breath, quick heartbeat. The excited nervousness was tangible.

"Can I?" Pope questioned as he reached his fingertips up to brush over the clasp of her bra. He sat up to be closer to her, feeling almost cold without her next to him.

"Of course you can." She nodded as she placed her hands on his shoulders, her forehead against his as he unhooked her bra and slid the straps down her shoulders.

"You're so beautiful." Pope breathed out while he pulled her bra off her arms and tossed it off the edge of the bed, his hands surging forward to cup her breasts.

"Thank you." She shivered at the feeling of his warm palms on her skin, her left hand at the nape of his neck while the other held herself steady on his shoulder.

Pope leaned forward to press a kiss to her collarbone, then began to press kiss after kiss along her chest as he gently kneaded her breasts, his breath heavy as she rocked her hips back and forth on top of him.

"Take off your pants, Pope." She whispered as she pulled her nails gently over his shoulders, not quite scratching him like she usually did, but close.

With her request ringing in his ears, Pope flipped his girlfriend onto her back on the bed and shimmied out of his shorts leaving him only in his briefs. He grabbed hold of her shorts and tugged them down her legs, along with her underwear, in one swoop. He dropped to his forearms above her again, his nose brushing over hers as he laid between her parted thighs.

"Come here, baby." She smiled as she pushed the waistband of his briefs down over his backside, pressing the heels of her feet under his backside to bring him right against her.

"You feel good." Pope groaned as he pressed his tip against her, his head dropped down to her forehead as he held himself up on his forearms.

"You're not even inside of me yet, Pope." She laughed breathlessly while she ran her hands down his back.

"Don't need to be. You're perfect." Pope whispered as he reached a hand between them to guide himself inside of her.

As Pope steadied himself, ready to settle inside of his love a loud gasp and a snicker echoed throughout the once otherwise quiet home.

"No, just leave it and go. They didn't see us. Move, JJ!"

"Wait, wait. I wanna see!"

"Guys, are you seriously here right now?" Pope groaned as his hips dropped down to his girlfriend's, his hand removed from between them to run over his face.

"I'm not looking. I just wanted to drop off an exam prep I had to help you guys out. Seriously!" Kiara yelled as she ran down the hallway with her hands over her eyes.

JJ stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and a wide grin on his face. He raised his eyebrows at his friend before he turned on his heel, closing the door over behind him.

"Told you that you wouldn't study, Pope!"

Hotties:

@babeyglo @starkey-babie @sodasback @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @beauvibaby @plutooryectors @rottenstyx @pogueslandia @soph0864 @whcclxr

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

#outer banks pope #pope heyward fic #pope heyward imagine #pope heyward #pope heyward fluff #pope heyward obx #outer banks imagines #outer banks requests #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx request #obx imagine #obx smut #obx pope

[wickedw3asleys]

hey love! could you write a smut for George where it’s the readers first time and George is super sweet about it and is inlove with you and everything you do:)

MAKE YOU MINE (fluff/smut)

George Weasley x female reader

AN: Sorry for posting it so late! I had some troubles with tumblr and it almost didn't let me post this 🙄, BUT ANYWAYS, thank you for submitting something and I hope it's what you wanted and I truly hope you'll like it!!! ❤️ Love u too, and thank you so much for your support 🥰

Also, sorry if this is long, I like writing long stuff and giving details 👉🏻👈🏻

Warnings: insecure reader(a lil bit), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, cussing...

When you first started dating George, not in a million years would you have thought to have your own expectations rising up. Not towards him though, but towards yourself.

George was that guy. Simply that guy. He was loved by everybody, one of the popular funny guys. And even though he was extremely sweet with you, you couldn't help but feel that something in you was missing.

Not that you weren't feeling enough for me, but at the same time, kind of...

One thing that made this feeling about you increase day by day was your virginity.

The concept of "virginity" was something that you particularly hated, hating the sense and meaning the modern society had given to it. But to shorten things up, yes, you were still a virgin. And even though you hated it as a concept, you couldn't stop but feel pressurized by yourself because of it.

And the fact that not even George knew about it made it only worse. For the few months you've been dating you've always tried to avoid it the best you could, but you could also feel George starting to worry about it, and why you would always push him away.

Plus, you were at that age where all your friends would start doing it, so you've had to see the parade of all your friends telling you one by one how excited they were that they finally lost their virginity. First was Ginny, then Harry, then Hermione, even Neville got to you to talk to you about it. So unconsciously, that weighted on you.

Today, you were hanging out again with George and his brother, both taking you to the Quidditch field to show you the new tactics they've been trying for their future match against Ravenclaw later that week. You could've been listening to George all day talking so passionately about Quidditch, but you had something else in your mind, and he could sense it. But he didn't say anything about it.

The thought of your bloody virginity was still in your mind and you didn't know how to make it disappear.

"... Y/N, are you okay?", Fred asked, seeing you totally off.

You sighed, "Yes! So, the bludgers..."

"You weren't paying attention, were you?", George asked gently, to what you sadly nodded.

"Sorry, guys... I've got things on my mind today..."

"Hey, don't worry. No need to apologize, it's okay", your boyfriend started to caress your arm, "We can head back in if you want"

"Yeah! I'm starting to get hungry anyways!", his brother answered.

You were grateful for them for being so understanding and not getting mad at you for being off, "Uhm... I'd rather stay here a little bit, I need more fresh air. Is it okay with you?", you asked George.

"Yes of course, sweetheart! Do you need anything?"

You said no and let them take off on their brooms, directing to the castle. You could see George's worried gaze, and you also knew that one day you'd have to talk to him anyways. He was your boyfriend after all. And seeming that he was so sweet with you always, you didn't quite understand why you were so scared to tell him.

After almost two hours of sitting there in the cold, you decided it was time for you to finally head back to the castle. Lunch would probably be over by now, fortunately you weren't hungry.

As you made your way to the corridors, straight to the common room, you crossed paths with the Weasleys; Ron, Ginny and the twins.

"Hello, darling! We missed you for lunch!", your boyfriend said, gently kissing your forehead.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I didn't see the time

pass...", you apologized.

"Are you okay? You're freezing, Y/N!", Ginny exclaimed, hugging you.

"Yes! Don't worry! I was just heading back to the common room..."

George could see your still worried look, so he thought for himself it wouldn't be the best idea to go there and have everybody all over you. He didn't know what was going on with you, but he didn't like to see you like this, and whatever was on your mind, he was determined to make you forget about it.

"You three can go!", he said to his siblings, "Y/N and I are going for a walk, I think. Do you feel like doing that?"

You looked at him, surprised, but you agreed to it. A walk with him sounded pretty good right now.

So as the other Weasleys said their goodbyes and went to the Gryffindor common room, you took George by the arm and let him lead the way.

"Where are we going?", you asked after a while of walking.

"I don't know... What about the Astronomy tower?"

"Yeah, sounds pretty good!"

You smiled at him and started to make your way up to the tower. Since it was around 5pm, the view was absolutely splendid up there. You could see how the sun was slowly starting to go down and making the sky changing into all these beautiful shades of yellow, blue and orange.

"So, are you going to tell me was has you so upset?", George asked, sitting down.

"Nothing... It's just silly, actually..."

"Nothing is silly if it bothers you", he pat the floor next to him, indicating you to sit next to him. "Come on, darling. You know you can tell me anything..."

You sighed as you took place next to him, snuggling into his chest due to the November cold.

"It's just...", you sighed, " I don't know... I don't want you to judge me or anything..."

"Hey, hey... I'd never judge you... Unless you kill someone, but I'm pretty sure that if you give me a valid argument I'd still understand your motives", he said, making you laugh. "Come on, tell me..."

"I'm so stupid...", you laughed, rubbing your forehead, " George, I haven't done anything... Like... Sexual... With anyone before..."

Your boyfriend looked at you, serious, "You mean, you're a virgin?"

"Mmhh... Yeah", you hummed.

"Sweetheart, is that why you're so upset?", he asked, you nodding as answer. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I don't know! It just feels... wrong... You're like so popular and nice, and I know you've been with girls and now you dating me doesn't makes any sense in that way!"

"Y/N, it doesn't matter to me!", he smiled. "I don't know who put you that silly idea in your mind but it's definitely not true at all. I love you, you know that. It doesn't matter to me if you have done it before or not..."

"Are you sure?", you asked, unsure.

"Of course I am! Besides, it would be such an honor for me to be the first one for you..."

He took your hands in his and kissed them warmly, making you laugh at the action.

"Thanks, Georgie..."

"No need to thank me, there's nothing to thank me for...", he caressed your cheek, "You just tell me whenever you feel ready... or not. That's up to you. I just want you to know that you can always feel safe with me, and comfortable."

"I do! I do feel comfortable! It's just... I don't know, I guess I can get pretty silly sometimes..."

"You're not silly, love. You're nervous... And it's

completely normal. I just want you to understand that it's okay, I don't want you to feel pressurized or anything"

With that, you thanked him with a small peck on the lips, and after a few minutes admiring the sunset, you decided to go back to the common room.

You were actually very thankful for George; you didn't know someone could be that understanding, and you appreciated that with all your heart. And surprisingly, all your doubts from earlier left your mind, finally being at peace with the topic.

It was insane how quick George could make make your problems disappear for a while.

And thinking about that, you started to feel determined. You wanted him to be your first.

After all, you've know him for a little bit more than three years now, and you've started dating a few months ago. And not once you've felt uncomfortable or upset because of him. And you knew you could trust him for all that virginity story. If you had to lose it now, you'd definitely choose him, even if you weren't dating.

"Flibbertigi-

"George, wait...", you interrupted him in front of the Fat Lady. "I want you to be my first... I want to do it..."

"W-what? Do you mean, right now?"

"Yes, right now...", you smiled to him.

"Oh, for Goddrick's sake... Flibbertigibbet!", he took your hand and took you inside with him, you laughed as you could see his excitement in his eyes.

"George! Could you hel-

"Not now, Jordan!", he left Lee speechless and shocked on place, which made you laugh, "Sorry, Lee!", you apologized.

You could hear a few 'ooohh's and some whistles coming from your friends mouths as you and George quickly went up to his dorm.

Went you arrived, your boyfriend made sure no one was in the room, and the proceeded to close the door shut with a charm. He strangely looked very nervous and excited at the same time, tripping on his own feet and making sure several times that the door was closed and everything was on place.

When he turned to face you and making sure that you were okay, he found you already sitting quietly on his bed, all smiles.

"Oh, darling... Sorry, I got carried away...", he says, embarrassed.

"Are you nervous, George Weasley?", you chuckled.

"Well, maybe...", he slowly started to walk towards you, "I've never had a pretty girl in my room..."

"You liar!", you laughed.

"But you love me...", he said, slowly leaning towards you.

"I surely do...", and with that, George starts kissing you gently, at first; making sure you were comfortable, and when he felt you deepening the kiss, he took it as a green light to sit next to you and push his tongue inside your mouth.

You moaned in his mouth; you felt extremely nervous, anticipating what was about to happen, but you knew that you wanted it. So to relax yourself, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his heart, focusing on its beat.

George took it as a signal to start touching your body. First putting one his hand on the back of your neck, asking more of you. Then, his other hand found its place on your thigh, his warm hand bringing you comfort.

As you kept kissing more and more passionately, his hand slowly went up and down your leg, making you shiver at his touch. You knew you wanted him, right there and right now. All your previous thoughts completely gone now, only replaced by excitement and anticipation.

Trying to lay you down on the bed, George accidentally placed his hand on the inside of your thigh, making you moan at the surprise.

What you didn't know, is that he swore to himself that it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, and he was way more than ready to hear more of you.

"Can I...?", he asked, starting to unbutton your shirt.

"Of course you can...", you cupped his face and arched your back to kiss him again, this time more passionately and deeper. You started to feel hot, to feel excited... Feeling a hot and extremely pleasing sensation in your lower abdomen. You lift up your legs a little bit, and accidentally rubbed your left knee on George's crotch, which made him groan in your mouth.

You stopped the kiss and looked at him deep

in the eyes, admiring him. His pupils dilated, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss and his messy long ginger hair falling on his face.

"Merlin, I love you...", you breathlessly say, before taking him for another kiss and slightly pulling his hair, making him groan again.

"I... *kiss*... Love... *kiss*... You... *kiss*... More...", he said between kisses, slowly going from your jawline to your upper chest, passing from collarbone to collarbone.

You've never had someone kissing you as hungrily as he was, and you swore it was the best thing you've ever felt.

"Come here...", you whispered to him, tugging on his shirt so you could take it off.

He wasn't extremely muscular, but he surely was fit. And the contrast of all his freckles on his pale skin made him look even more handsome than he already was.

Both of you continued undressing the other, taking your time to make the other comfortable and not wanting to end the moment, until you knew you were ready.

"George, please... Now...", you said, almost breathless.

He smiled at you, placing a last small peck on your lips, and slowly started a trail of kisses from your jaw to your stomach.

"W-what are you doing?", you asked, already feeling dizzy from what he was doing to you.

"I'm taking my time... I want to make you feel good...", he smiled back, bringing back his attention to your skin and his kisses. He made sure to kiss every inch of your bare skin, leaving here and there marks that would sure be visible for a few days.

"Can I take these off, darling?", he asked, playing softly with the elastic of your panties.

"P-please...", you whispered.

He delicately took them off, and continued placing few kisses around your waist.

"George, fuck..."

"What do you need, sweetheart?", he devilishly smiled, locking eyes with you.

"You, I need you"

"As you wish...", and with that, he took your thighs between his hands, gently spreading your legs for him. You thought your body would automatically close them due to your vulnerable state, but it was nothing like that. He totally made sure you were okay with it and you were feeling more ecstatic than ever.

George blew lightly on your -now- swollen clit, making you breathe heavily. And in seconds, you found his head lost in between your legs. The moment his tongue was on you, you starting moaning. You've never felt anything like that before, not even when you touched yourself.

You automatically brought you hands to his hair, which made him groan.

"George, oh my god..."

"You like that, darling?", he asked, leaving kitten licks on your clit.

"Fffffffuck... I do...", you continued moaning.

He was doing wonders on your pussy, you couldn't believe how good it was feeling. In just a few minutes he had you already squirming under him, moaning all for him.

"Ssshhh... Quiet, darling... You don't want the others to hear you, right?", he says, making his way back up to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. "Are you ready for more?"

"Y-yes..."

He went back to your clit, massaging it a little with his thumb, watching your reaction. George couldn't believe his eyes, you were, at this instant, the most beautiful view he could ever have.

With a smile he went back to work his tongue on your swollen clit, but this time, you felt some pressure at your entry. He put his arm on your lower abdomen to keep you in place, that being the hottest thing ever, and he slowly introduced a finger in you.

Since you were not used to it, you started to feel a light pressure, kind of annoying. But as his tongue was still working on you and he would introduce his finger very carefully in and out of you, the annoying feeling quickly disappeared. Only leaving more and more pleasure.

"George! Fuck...", you moaned again.

He didn't stop. On the contrary, he actually sped up a little bit his pace and slightly curled upward his finger, making your back almost arch by itself.

"Shit, that feels so good!"

"I can see that, darling...", he chuckled, licking and slightly nibbling your clit, "You're so beautiful..."

Almost unexpectedly, he introduced a second finger in you, owning a groan of pain in return. "I know darling, but I need to prepare you..."

You took a deep breath and tried to relax as much as you could, feeling your inner walls slowly relax around his fingers.

"Just like that, princess..."

The pleasure you were feeling now was insane. You couldn't even imagine how I'd feel to have him inside; and at the thought of that you started to feel extremely impatient, "Georgie, please, I need you... Now..."

"Are you sure?"

"For Goddrick's sake, yes!", you moaned, louder than before.

He smiled and started to replace his fingers with his tip, taking the time to use your wetness as lube. And then, he slowly entered you.

He put a hand next to your head, and the other one was on your upper thigh, helping him gain balance and not get too carried away and unintentionally hurt you. He watched your face slightly contort in pain, "Relax, darling... It's okay...", he tried to calm you.

You opened you eyes and looked a him, putting one hand on his cheek. He was so handsome...

When he felt you relax under him, he sunk deeper in you, completely stretching you. You didn't know if it was because it was your very first time or if it was because he was way above the average size... Maybe a little bit of both, he was huge!

But when the pain started to disappear, it only

made it better.

"George, honey... Please, move...", you pleaded, already feeling like you were going crazy at the feeling.

He did as you asked, sinking completely inside you and gently thrusting in and out. The firsts fee thrusts were still a little bit painful, but the pain was now accompanied with an extremely pleasing feeling, more powerful than the one you felt when George's tongue was working on your clit.

"O-oh my god... You feel so good...", you moaned, making him twitch inside you.

"And you're so tight for me, Y/N... You're doing so good... So good for me...", his grip on your thigh tightened, probably leaving marks for the next day.

Both of you continued enjoying the moment and the intimacy, George increasing a little bit his pace.

"F-faster... H-harder... Please...", you whined.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Fuck!", you threw you head back, your hand resting on your forehead.

George did as you asked and increased his pace. He could feel you tight walls closing even more around him due to your pleasure, and he felt like he could die right there and right now and he wouldn't even care.

"Fuck, Y/N...", he groaned, pushing into you and making you scream again, "I'm not going to last much longer... You feel so... Fucking... Good... FUCK!"

You were a moaning mess, you couldn't even think straight. The pain had almost completely disappeared, but the addition of it to all the pleasure you were feeling was a perfect combination.

And just when you thought you couldn't feel even more pleasure, George brought his hand to your clit and furiously started to rub it perfectly.

"FFFFFUCKKKK!", you nearly screamed, back arching into his chest. In just a few seconds you started feeling something warm build up in your lower abdomen, and it seems like George felt it too.

"Come on, darling. Let's do it together..."

He continued thrusting in and out of you, never leaving your clit and applying the correct pressure to it, making you come undone in seconds unexpectedly.

"GEORGE! Shit! I'm c-

"Me too, darling. Come on!"

"FUCK!"

And with a few more thrusts and a bunch of curses, you both came undone for the other. George helped you riding your orgasm, moaning at his own overstimulation, and when you finally calmed down, he dropped onto you.

Neither of you spoke, you were too busy trying to regain your breaths.

"That was..."

"Unbelievable!", he said, sounding like he was dying. That making you laugh.

"Are you okay?", you asked.

"Yeah, yeah! Don't worry about me!", he raised his hand and dropped it. You hugged him tightly and gently stroke his hair, "Thanks, Georgie... For this..."

He turned his head towards yours and locked eyes with yours. You could feel all the love and admiration in his eyes, warming your heart.

"No. Thank you... For loving me, and trusting me..."

You gently smiled and placed a loving kiss on his lips.

"I hope I didn't hurt you..."

"Not at all. You were perfect. More than perfect!"

He kissed your shoulder one last time, and nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, "Let's take a nap..."

"It's almost 7pm!", you laughed.

"Mmhh... Don't care..."

You laughed and looked at him one last time, before slowly closing your eyes and fall asleep with you boyfriend in your arms. The last thought that crossed your mind was how much you loved that man... and how Lee and Fred were supposed to enter the room since George didn't have the time to lift up the charm on the door...

#harry potter #hogwarts #ron weasley #weasley twins #hermione granger #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins smut #fred weasley #george weasley #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #weasley twins fic #george weasley fic

[bqstqnbruin]

Always be my plus one

Here we go, y'all. We're ignoring that it's 3:30 in the morning but I'm just yeeting the first part of this into the wild and hoping it goes well. Ignore typos, we all know that everything I post is a first draft.

I need to thank @hockeywocs, @chara-hugs, and @zinka8 (WHY CAN't I TAG YOU) and all the anons who have come into my ask box to help me with this! ily all!

WARNING: some description of child birth

Hope you like it!

Series masterlist

------------------------------

Part 1: Christmas Day and the day after Christmas

The name for Christmas comes from the shortening of “Christ’s Mass,” a traditionally Christian holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ to the Virgin Mary and Joseph in a manger in Bethlehem. Although the exact date of his birthday is unknown, around the fourth century the Catholic church fixed the date of this celebration to be December 25th. Other religions and belief systems have similar celebrations around the same time, such as the Winter Solstice, or Midwinter. Celebrations include a mixture of pre-Christian, Christian, and non-secular traditions, such as gift giving, completing an Advent Calendar or Advent Wreath, Christmas music, church services, a special meal with family and loved ones, Christmas trees, lights, nativity scenes, and Santa Claus to name a few.

The day after Christmas, known as Boxing Day in some European countries, is traditionally known as a shopping holiday. In America, this is typically the day when people start to return any unwanted Christmas gifts, stock up for next Christmas on items that are marked down on sale, or see friends that they hadn’t been able to see before Christmas.

=============

December 21, 2021

“One fifteen means fifteen minutes before I have to clock in. Fifteen minutes before a twelve-hour shift that I’m not ready for and don’t have enough caffeine for,” Anne muttered to herself, staring at her reflection through her car's rearview mirror. “But, fifteen minutes before getting to do something that I thankfully love, something that I enjoy doing.” No matter how long the shift in front of her, Anne had developed a habit of giving herself a pep talk before she got out of her car. “Whatever happens, you’ve helped someone.”

The last part wasn’t always true, knowing that there was the possibility that something could go wrong that she and the other nurses and doctors wouldn’t be able to fix. Lying to herself that everything was going to be ok was the only want to convince herself to go into the hospital every day. Finally mustering up enough courage to get out of her car, she grabs her bag from the backseat, heading in for yet another long day right before the Christmas holiday.

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from the job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

“Hey, Tyson, come on!” comes from inside the open doors of the building, Anne not paying attention to who it was coming from, causing her to collide with a stranger, spilling her much-needed coffee all over the both of them.

“Shit,” she says, not looking up from the brown splatter on what should be mint green scrubs. “I am so sorry.”

Standing in front of her was a curly-haired boy, about her age, wearing what she was sure was a Colorado hockey jersey. Beyond that, she had no idea. “No, no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Let me buy you another,” he offers, ignoring the persistent calls from his friends to hurry up.

Anne checks her watch: 1:19. “It’s ok. I don’t really have the time, I have to clock in in eleven minutes, and knowing the cafeteria or the vending machines, it would take a lot longer,” she says, trying to get by him. Before he can protest, she gets to the elevator that would bring her to her floor, thankful that it was ready to get her there without her having to wait. The doors start to close, only to be stopped by a hand stuck through them, the curly-haired boy with the coffee stain down the front of him getting on the elevator with her. Anne gives him a confused look, begging him to explain why he was trying to make her late for her shift.

“If you aren’t going to let me buy you one now to make up for it, at least let me see where you work so I can drop one off for you.”

Anne rolls her eyes, unamused by the man in front of her as he attempts to flirt with her. “That would be nice, but the chances of me getting it before it goes cold are slim to none, so you need to suggest something else if you really want to buy me a coffee.”

“Let me get your number so I can buy you one when you aren’t working?” he asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. 1:25. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”

The elevator dings, signaling that they were on Anne’s floor, opening the door to nurses and doctors running around, expectant fathers who were probably kicked out of the delivery room for making the mom too nervous pacing the halls, grandparents trying to control younger children who had little to no idea what was going on as they waited in the strange building. Anne walks to the backroom to drop her stuff off and clock in, typing her information into the stranger’s phone as he followed her like a puppy, his friend’s texts coming across the top of his screen asking where he went so they could leave.

“I’m Anne, and I’ve got to go,” she tells him, handing back his phone. There was no way he was going to text her, and it’s not like the coffee was that big of a deal to him. She could go to the vending machine down the hall and grab one during her break, or have someone else on their break do it for her if she needed it sooner.

“Can’t wait for our coffee date, Anne,” he says, winking at her before shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering back down the hallway.

“Who is he?” her coworker, Jess asked, popping up out of nowhere. “He’s hot.”

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Anne jokes, “he’s also wearing my hot coffee on his shirt.”

“You didn’t,” Jess scolds her, turning her around to see the coffee that was spilled down Anne’s own outfit, knowing Anne’s tendency to be a little absent-minded as she gets wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Anne, you did.”

“Not on purpose!”

“DeFormicola?” Anne’s supervisor, Jackson, pops his head into the room just as she was clocking in, “We need you in room 414.”

“Saved by the bell,” Anne teases, walking down the hall to where all the noise was coming from, trying to throw on the appropriate clothing before she went into the room, struggling to get the gloves on as she entered.

“Ok, Erin, we’re going to need you to push,” one of the doctors says, Anne standing behind him as she watched the baby’s head crowning.

This was her favorite part of the job, helping the mother stay calm and trying to make sure that despite the child coming out of her, she was as comfortable as possible. Normally, she would be with the mom as soon as she came in, Erin clearly nervous as to what was going on. They had to be first-time parents, the dad going back and forth to Erin’s side and behind the doctor, looking mortified each time and clearly regretting what he was seeing.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor says, handing the new baby to a breathless Erin.

“A boy! A boy!” the dad yells, going out to the hallway, Erin clearly unamused by whatever antics he was going about.

“Don’t worry, he’s not the first one to do that,” Anne reassures her, knowing that something like that would happen at least five more times during her shift, hearing the father’s voice repeating the phrase. “I’m going to get him cleaned up and then get him right back to you, ok?” Anne asks, reaching for the baby as everyone else around her tries to clean everything else up.

“Be careful with him,” Erin warns, not meaning anything bad by it. She was definitely a first time mother.

“I will be,” Anne tells her, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket as she does. “So you have a name picked out yet?”

“We were thinking Matthew.”

Anne turns her head, smiling at Erin. “That’s a good name. My older brother is named Matthew.”

Erin smiles at her, the father finally coming back in, clearly overjoyed by the birth of their new baby. Anne hands him back to his parents, Matthew screaming his head off as they get wheeled into another room.

Anne goes over to the desk, sitting down where she was supposed to be for the start of her shift to do paperwork, but the uncertainty in the hour by hour of the schedule was not surprising. She pulls out her phone, ‘Maybe: Tyson’ coming up across her screen.

“He’s already texting me,” she alerts Jess whose head whips away from her computer to look over Anne’s shoulder at what message the mystery man could have sent her.

“He’s horny.”

“Jessica!” she squeals, wishing she was more shocked by what her friend had said. “Why is that always your first reaction to a boy sending a message?”

She shrugs, swiveling back to her own computer, “I’m normally right. What’s he saying?”

“He wants to know when he can buy me coffee.”

“Horny.”

“Enough.”

“You should date him.”

Anne turns to her, clearly unamused by Jess’s need to continue the conversation. “I don’t have to date anyone.”

Jess lets out a long sigh, Anne knowing that she was rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to, I’m saying you should.”

“Ok, I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Oh, come on Anne,” Jess says, getting up and plopping herself on the desk in front of Anne, fiddling with the wire connecting the mouse to the rest of the computer. “You work in a maternity ward where people become parents every day, and you haven’t even thought of finding a man?”

“You don’t have a point,” Anne tells her, not making eye contact with her.

“My point,” Jess says, leaning over to block Anne’s view of her computer screen, “is that you can’t be single forever.”

“Says who?”

“Didn’t you tell me that you were named after the patron saint of the town your grandmothers were from?”

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing where this was going. It was going in the same direction that this conversation always went in when she had it with her mom every single holiday. “All four of us are named after the patron saints of the towns our grandparents are from.”

“St. Anne is the patron saint of child care, grandparents and mothers.”

“She’s also that patron saint of unmarried women, so your argument is invalid, as usual.”

Jess takes in a breath to say something, cut off by Jackson calling for Jess to go into one of the delivery rooms. “Just don’t say no because you think you have to be single,” she advises as she walks away.

Anne leans back in the chair, rubbing her hands over her face. “This is how Christmas is going to go, isn’t it?” she asks herself.

=============

December 25, 2021

The number of cars lining her parent's driveway meant that she was one of the last ones there, but knowing her aunts and uncles, she wasn’t the last one there. Her parents were the ones who did Christmas Day for her dad’s family, Christmas Eve being the anniversary of her mom’s mom’s death, and, on top of that, Teresa doesn’t talk to her family over some argument and grudge being held over their parent's house.

Scanning the cars, she didn’t see the one belonging to her brother Matthew, or his wife, Stephanie. “I’ll just leave Harper’s gifts in the car,” Anne mutters to herself, trying to juggle as many gifts as she could while also balancing the box of pastries her mom asked her to pick up for dessert.

Without a free hand to open the door, Anne did everything she could to ring the doorbell with her elbow, praying that someone would come to open the door before she dropped anything.

Her younger brother, Sebastian, opens the door, a disappointed look on his face. “What the fuck is all this for?” he asks, taking some of the bags from her arms to lighten her load.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she remarks, “Yours is still in my car if you’re wondering.”

“Did you have to get gifts for everyone?” he asks, Anne greeting her aunts and uncles on the way to the tree to put everything down for later.

“Well, it’s Hazel’s first Christmas," she explains, referencing their sister's youngest daughter, "So getting her something and not getting the other children something seemed wrong, and then Jessica took me shopping and kept saying things like ‘oh this would be perfect for Lucy,’ or ‘oh don’t have you an aunt who likes mystery novels?’ And everything went downhill from there.”

Sebby groans, walking with Anne back out to her car to retrieve the rest of the gifts, Anne still holding the box of pastries since they hadn’t made it to the kitchen yet. “Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel that the bookstore was selling.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel the bookstore was selling,” Anne laughs, Sebby nodding his head. “I got a gift receipt.”

“What did you end up getting Matthew?” he asks her. Anne had texted Sebby in panic on Black Friday, coming home from a day of shopping with Lucy that left her without a gift for Lucy’s twin brother.

Grabbing the rest of the gifts and handing them to Sebby, she closes the door to her car and starts to go back inside. “I found this ‘make your own wine’ kit that I think he would like. That way Steph doesn’t have to listen to him complaining about how the stuff she drinks is ‘too sweet.’”

“What about for me?” Sebby asks, nudging Anne with his elbow as they arrange the rest of the gifts in the already mountainous pile under the tree.

“Oh, I knew there was someone I forgot,” she says sarcastically, Sebby ripping the bow off one of her carefully wrapped presents and throwing it at her. “Ok, now I’m never getting you a gift again.”

Sebby laughs, helping his older sister off the ground. The two of them wander into the kitchen, slipping in unnoticed due to the sheer number of family members and noise that was filling the room. “Aunt Anne! Aunt Anne!” Harper and Skylar squeal in unison when her nieces spot her, hoping that either she or Sebby had grabbed Harper, Matthew, and Stephanie’s gifts. She didn’t think there was anything left in her trunk.

“Hey there, fireflies,” Anne greets them, bending down as they both kiss her on the cheek. “Guess what? Santa stopped by my place and left some gifts for you, but he made me promise that you two were really good today if you want to open them after dessert, ok?”

The two girls nod excitedly, bouncing up and down at Anne’s words. To still be young and believe in Santa, that must be nice.

“Hey, ma,” Anne finally finds her mother, putting down the box of pastries in front of her and kissing her on the cheek. “Upstairs or downstairs fridge?”

“It goes downstairs. Come on, I have someone I want you to meet,” her mother says, dragging you away from your aunts that had aggregated around her. They all had excited looks on their faces, something that instantly worried Anne as she followed her mother down the stairs with the box. She could hear Matthew and Lucy’s voices, knowing that her brother and sister’s wife and husband had to be down there with them, too. “Matthew told me about this friend of his who couldn’t make it home for Christmas,” her mother whispers before she got to the last step.

“Mom, no,” Anne says, already knowing where this was heading. “I told you: I don’t need a boyfriend.”

“But I don’t have a grandson,” her mom whines, shaking Anne’s hand in her own against her chest.

“How is that my fault?”

“If you just find a nice boy, and get married, I just know you’re going to be my child that has a boy.”

“Oh my god,” Anne groans, pushing past her to get to the fridge.

Teresa pulls Anne over to the couches where her siblings were, Lucy sitting on one with her feet in Jason’s lap, Jason’s hand lazily rubbing his wife’s shins. Matthew was on the other, Stephanie nuzzled against his shoulder, all four of them with a glass of wine and three bottles open. Next to Matthew was a guy sitting there awkwardly, straightening his back when he saw you while Sebby tried to contain his laughter as he sat on the floor. “Jeremy, this is my youngest daughter, Anne. Anne, this is Jeremy,” she introduces the two of them before running up the stairs.

“I do have a girlfriend, actually,” Jeremy says, “So I’m sorry.”

Anne and her siblings burst out laughing, Lucy pouring her sister a glass of wine. “If only this were the first time Ma tried to set Anne up with a guy who was seeing someone.”

“I even tried to tell her that but she didn’t listen,” Matthew adds. “It’s better than when she tried to set you up with Adam,” he says, referencing Lucy’s partner at their optometry practice.

“Yeah, his husband wasn’t too thrilled by that potential match,” Sebby says.

They all keep talking, Anne just sitting and listening to them reminisce about all the people their parents had tried to set her up within their desperate attempt for her to no longer be single. It didn’t help that the last time she listened to them about dating was Andy, the boy who cheated on her when they got to college. Apparently going to school half an hour from each other wasn’t enough for him to keep up their two-year relationship instead of shoving his tongue down multiple girls throats before doing god only knows what else.

“When do you think they’ll stop trying to set me up with someone?” Anne finally pips in, accidentally cutting off something Jeremy was saying as she stared at the wine she was swirling in the glass.

“When you get a boyfriend,” her siblings say in unison.

“I hate all of you for doing that,” she laughs. “But, seriously, why is it so important that I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, you know your mother,” Jason says, putting his glass down on the floor. “She saw what Lucy and I had and then wanted that for all her children.”

Lucy playfully shoves him, kissing him as Anne and Sebby groan. “She just wants you to be happy, and to her and dad, happiness is marriage and a family.”

“Where am I going to meet someone if I go to work or here where they try to bring in non-single non-potential suitors?” she asks, looking over at Jeremy. “Sorry.”

He shrugs, not able to get a word in before Matthew starts, “What if you met someone at work like how Steph and I met?”

“Yeah because there are so many single men walking around the maternity ward,” she says, her phone buzzing in front of her. “What about you, though, Seb, how’s Collins?” Anne asks, changing the subject.

“Eh,” he shrugs, his eyes wandering to Anne’s phone screen, “I’m not sure we’re going to last to graduation.”

“What?” Lucy squeals, causing Jason to jump as she threw her legs out of his lap. “I thought you said she was ‘the one’?”

Sebby looks down at his glass, a stupid smirk on his face. “Nah, that changed. She doesn’t want me to go to law school in Boston, she wants me to stay here or move to California with her.”

“But the adventure of moving with your girlfriend to another state!” Matthew offers, Stephanie rolling her eyes.

“Matthew, not everyone needs adventure like you do, hon.”

Anne’s phone buzzes again, a reminder that she had a text waiting for her. Picking it up before Sebby can see who it is, ever the nosy little brother, she sees a message from Tyson popping up as they continue their conversation about Sebby’s love life and Anne’s lack thereof. . They had only been texting for a few days since their encounter at the hospital, but every time his name came up she couldn’t help but smile, lifting the wine glass to her lips to cover it in hopes of her siblings not noticing.

How’s your Christmas been so far?

A simple ‘eh’ as a response was all that she needed to send. It could be worse, but her mom trying to set her up with a guy with a girlfriend was definitely not something that made for a good Christmas. The only thing that could be worse is if their dad came home early from the flight he was on with a guy he picked up in whatever country he had to go to that prompted him to miss the holiday. Normal dads who had to travel would bring their kids back little trinkets or a postcard, but Anne wouldn’t put it past Tony to borderline kidnap someone from the plane he was flying and bring them home for Anne.

Tyson’s contact comes up again, an incoming call that prompted Anne to step away so she could answer it. “What’s up?”

“You said your Christmas was ‘eh.’ What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” she groans, pressing her back up against the fridge.

“Well, what if I have something that might make it better?” he flirts.

“Oh? Like what”

“What if I said I’m 100% free to buy you that coffee any time tomorrow, since I know you said you didn’t have work, and you can tell me about Christmas then?”

Anne hears her siblings laugh not ten feet away, praying that they couldn’t hear her conversation. Taking in a deep breath, she knew that her cheeks were turning pink at his words. “Sure, that sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, walking back over to join her siblings.

“I’ll text you details,” he tells her, hanging up.

“Oh, my god,” Lucy yells, interrupting their conversation. “Anne was talking to a boy.”

“What the hell? What makes you think that?” she asks.

“Your cheeks are red," Lucy says, prompting Anne to raise her hand to feel the heat radiating from her face, "Who else would you be seeing tomorrow?” her sister eggs on, her eyebrow raised since she knew she was right.

Anne tries to find her words, unable to think of a name that wasn’t a guy's name to blurt out.

“Is it Tyson?” Sebby asks, Anne’s unlocked phone in his hand.

“You jackass!” she yells, lunging at her brother to try to get her phone back.

Teresa’s footsteps sound down the stairs, her poking her head between the gap in the stair rail and the steps themselves, Anne and Sebby looking like a deer in headlights when they see their mom. “I was coming to say that dinner was ready, but what’s going on here?”

“Anne has a boy she wasn’t telling us about,” Sebby blabs, earning an ‘I’ll kill you’ look from Anne.

“Oh! Annie!” their mom squeals, running down the stairs to pick her up off the ground and hug her. “Why didn’t you tell us about him?”

“I, uh,” Anne starts, still not sure what to say.

“You have to bring him to New Year’s Day at Uncle Vince’s house,” she tells her, the rest of the siblings following Anne being dragged back up the stairs for dinner, her mom announcing that Anne had a boyfriend when she, in fact, didn’t.

=============

December 26, 2021

“So, are you going to tell me why your Christmas was only ‘eh,’ or am I going to have to guess?” Tyson asks, setting down two cups of coffee in front of them. Tyson had asked Anne to meet him at a small coffee shop that was within walking distance of her apartment, thankful that she didn’t have to drive through Denver on the day where everyone was returning anything unwanted, like her Aunt Lisa returning one of the copies of the Agatha Christie novel that her and Sebby each got her.

Anne groans, the images of last night’s dinner flashing through her mind. “Can we talk about something else, first?”

“Fine,” Tyson says, taking a long sip of the coffee, “What did you get for gifts?”

She raises her eyebrow at him, Tyson mirroring her expression except with a goofy grin on his face. Rolling her eyes, she starts listing off the stuff she got: “My parents got me a new attachment for my KitchenAid stand mixer since my younger brother, Sebby, broke it last time he was over and a voucher for a flight anywhere in the country like they do every year, um, some gift cards from my aunts and uncles, my nieces all did their best attempts at drawing a portrait of me, Sebby told me he was going to come over and make dinner for me, which scares me because he can’t cook, Matthew and his wife got me some books they thought I would like, and Lucy and her husband got me this bracelet,” Anne tells him, extending her arm out to show him.

“I have so many questions,” Tyson starts.

“I might have answers,” Anne tells him, raising her cup to him.

“How big is your family?”

“I’m the third of four, Lucy and Matthew are twins and are about five years older than me, then Sebby is a year younger than me. Lucy has two daughters and Matthew has one. My dad has two brothers; one older, one younger. The older one has three kids, the younger has two and then three grandchildren.”

“Mom’s family?”

Anne looks down at her coffee. “I’m the only one who talks to anyone on that side of the family. My mom and her brother got into a fight when their parents died over what was left to them. My uncle has two daughters and two granddaughters.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking between the coffee and Anne.

She shrugs, not really bothered by it at this point. “It’s whatever. I talk to them because I want to, so it’s fine. What other questions do you have, though?”

“The ticket voucher?”

“Yeah,” Anne laughs, “Our dad is a pilot with Southwest Airlines, so every Christmas they give us a voucher to fly anywhere we want. They say they want to make sure that we take time for ourselves, but I think Dad gets some sort of bonus for every voucher he buys.”

Tyson throws his head back laughing. It wasn’t that funny, but seeing him so happy, Anne couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What about you, what did you get for Christmas?”

“My mom and sister flew down and basically restocked my kitchen for me.”

“Ok, that’s a great present, though,” she says. “Where was your dad?”

The smile from Tyson’s face fades, not looking up at Anne. “I never knew him. My mom and grandmother raised me.”

“Oh, Tyson,” she says, reaching out for his hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

He shrugs, a forced smile on his face. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything, I don’t think. My mom and my grandmother are the reason I am who I am. I wouldn’t give that up or change it.”

The two of them sit there, Anne trying to think about how many times she helped deliver a baby when the father was nowhere to be found. She normally figured they were busy or just not in the delivery room, not being there all together was something she couldn’t even begin to imagine. “But enough about me. Why was your Christmas ‘eh’?”

“My family has it in their heads that I need a boyfriend,” she admits, Tyson smirking at her words. “And my brother saw your texts coming up on my phone and being the asshole that he is, announced that I was texting a boy, so now, I need to find someone to bring with me to my uncle’s house on New Year’s Day that I can pass off as you.”

Tyson gives her a confused look. “Why wouldn’t you just bring me?”

Anne sits there, a shocked look on her face. “Because they think ‘Tyson’ is my boyfriend, and you aren’t?”

“So we pretend. They don’t need to know,” he shrugs, acting like it was no big deal.

“That would never work,” Anne dismisses him.

“Why not? You don’t think I’m a good actor?” Tyson whines, acting insulted at Anne’s words.

She scoffs, “Ok, one, hockey players are never good actors, and two, Sebby or Lucy are bound to figure out that you are not my boyfriend. Sebby wants to be a lawyer so he analyzes everything and Lucy is just this perfect anomaly of a human who would be bound to figure it out.”

“I think I can play your boyfriend for New Year’s Day,” he says, confidence dripping in his voice.

“No, I can’t have you do that.”

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from thhe job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagines #tyson jost fic #tyson jost oc fic #colorado avalanche #avalanche #nhl #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagines #tyson and anne

[nanasparadise]

“Dream Invader” Yan! Abbacchio x gender-neutral reader (Soulmate AU)

Hello everyone! I hope you are doing fine. I don’t know if you have read my previous post, that talks about a dream I had, but I decided to turn some elements of it into this piece of writing. This fanfiction is set in the soulmate universe. I really hope you enjoy it, because I decided to write this instead of studying for my French essay I have tomorrow (please wish me luck, God knows I need it) :D. And for the requests: I haven’t forgotten you, please remain patient. T-T I’ll write my last test on Thursday, after that I have holidays, so I’ll definitely catch up on them!! Thank you for sticking around. <3

Summary: Your soulmate keeps visiting you in your dreams, but you don’t feel comfortable around them…

TW: noncon touching, toxic relationship, angst, reader gets hurt physically, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

 I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

 Word count: 2626

It had happened yet again. You had dreamt again of this man, one of many countless dreams. Breathing heavily, you abruptly opened your eyes and wiped away the sweat that was accumulating on your forehead with the back of your hand. “Does that really mean…?”, you mumbled softly. Most people would be happy to find out they had a soulmate and finally had met them. But most people’s match certainly wasn’t someone, who conveyed a deep obsession and possessiveness towards their beloved. Still mentally in your dream, your body started to tremble slightly. What were you going to do now? At first, you had brushed off the dreams, convincing yourself that they didn’t mean anything. But you knew the gist of it. You knew that when a certain person kept infiltrating your dreams, that they were your soulmate.

Sighing deeply, you turned around in your bed, your left cheek resting on the soft pillow. The clock on your bedside table revealed that it was 4:30 a.m. You certainly couldn’t fall asleep again, but it was still too early to wake up for work. So you remained there in the quiet, your shallow breaths being the only sound in the dark room. Despite your efforts, your racing thoughts kept returning to your dream. “Who is this man?”, you whispered as you looked down on your fingers, which seemed to still hurt.

 Every time he had shown up, he had never revealed his name to you, wanting to keep it to himself. “I‘ll tell it to you once we see us in real life, amore”, he had told you, a certain spark igniting his admittedly gorgeous yellow and purple eyes. Truth be told, your soulmate was nothing short of beautiful. Long white hair with a purple hue graced his stoic face. His athletic body was adorned with a dark bodysuit, accentuating his muscles. All in all, he reminded you of a vengeful Greek god, breathtaking but dangerous. Dangerous… You began to feel threatened by the presence of your mysterious dream visiter. Since he had never offered you his name, you hadn’t given him yours either, sensing there might be something off about him.

 Still, he had found it out. This night in your dream, you two had been on the flower field you had met for the first time. You had felt dizzy, as if your head had been caught in the clouds. This light atmosphere had convinced you that this had been truly a dream, since a sense of haziness always accompanied your nocturnal adventures. The summer sun had been setting, turning the sky into a colourful spectacle of orange and pink. This would have been a picturesque and maybe even romantic moment if it hadn’t been for the feeling of dread building in your stomach. A small smile had formed on his purple lips when he had perceived your form. Quietly, nearly inaudibly, the stranger had murmured your name into the warm summer breeze: “Y/N.” Immediately, goosebumps had formed on your arms. 

“How do you know my name?”, you had replied, visibly shaken. Had he somehow managed to get some information on you? 

“It’s such a fitting name”, he had mused contemplatively, ignoring your question. “Y/N…” His unique eyes had been fixed on you the whole time, analysing every detail of your face. Fear had started to take over your body. The slight shivers had transformed into noticeable trembling. Your breath had shortened as you had desperately searched for a way to get out of that dream. 

„Why are you doing this?”, you had shouted out, panic manifesting in your voice. “Why do you keep entering my dreams, just to behave like a creep? How should I trust you when you don’t even tell me anything about yourself, yet you somehow know my personal information?” The man in front of you had sighed at your outburst. Sparks of sympathy had danced in his eyes, making them appear even brighter. Slowly, he had reached for your hands, holding them in his larger ones. You had tried to pull off from his grasp, but your fighting had been futile against his stronger form. So you had been forced to remain there, listening to the dream man’s words. 

“I know this is confusing for you,” he had said while rubbing circles on the back of your hands with his thumbs, “but I can’t give you any information yet, my job makes it hard. I need to see you in real life and I promise, I’ll tell you everything then.” Tears had pricked in your eyes, clouding your vision. Why had he assumed you two would meet? The thought of the stranger knowing your address had turned your initial dread into hot anger. No matter if he was your soulmate, you were still your own, independent person! He couldn’t just stalk you, talk to you as if you were a couple and leave you in the dark about his own identity. The dream man still had held your hands, expecting some kind of reaction from you. 

“No”, you had simply answered, refusing to meet his intense gaze. 

“No what?”, he had replied, impatience swinging in his voice. He had been in your dreams endless times, reassuring you of his love and loyalty for you. Why hadn’t you been reciprocating his feelings? He was your soulmate after all! 

“No,” you had repeated while your eyebrows had furrowed, illustrating your resistance,”we’re not going to see each other.” The grip on your hands had suddenly become stronger and hurtful, nearly crushing your fingers. For a second time, you had tried to take away your hands from him but without success. The stranger’s orbs had fixated you, darkness swirling in the iris of the same colour as the flowers on the field. Terror had made itself visible again in your body and mind, amplified by the man’s sombre look on his handsome face. Yes, he looked just like a statue of Ares, so enchanting and yet so enraged. And dangerous… 

“So you don’t want to meet your soulmate?”, he had stated calmy, which only had increased your anxiety. 

“Please, let go, you’re hurting me”, you had pleaded despairingly. The man had squeezed harshly one last time your hands before he had eventually released them. Protectively, you had cradled them against your chest, trying to soothe the pain by softly rubbing your fingers. “What kind of person would do this to their soulmate?” you had thought in disgust and fear. Hesitantly, you had looked up to him, his face remaining a stoic façade. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Y/N”, the dream man had said coolly. The fact that he had addressed you with your name again had put you in a state of fear once more. Nevertheless,  you had gathered all your courage to reply to him. 

“No, I don’t. Someone who hurts and stalks me can’t be my soulmate, no matter if they enter my dreams. And even if you are, I still don’t want to be with you. Please, I’m begging you to respect and accept that.” 

The Italian – you had guessed that this was probably his nationality since he called you Italian pet names –  man’s gaze had immediately softened at your words. He had known he’d got carried away with his rage. Of course, your words had pained him more than any weapons ever could, but he had to be patient with you. He could only imagine how he had come across to you, especially now that he had hurt you. No, he couldn’t pain a loved one again, not you… 

“I’m sorry, cuore mio,” he had said remorsefully, regret manifesting itself, “I really shouldn‘t have hurt you. I promise it won’t happen again. I just want to see you, really see you, and hold you in my arms. I know, I might not be the best man to have existed.” His face had abruptly twisted into a pained grimace. This had been the first time he had ever been that sincere to you. Your feelings had begun to transform into a mix of sympathy, fear and confusion. He had really appeared to feel bad about his actions, maybe he had lived through a trauma to react that way? Your pondering had quickly come to a halt. No, you really couldn’t start to show empathy for the man. After all, he had stalked you, hurt you, crossed too many lines. Nonetheless, your dream invader had kept up with his speech. “I don’t know if I deserve your love, but I really want to believe in it. You are my soulmate and I am yours, we can make it work out if we try. Please, give me a chance and I will do everything in my power to show you I am worthy of you. Just don’t reject me already.” He had paused for a moment, a slight tremble in his voice making itself visible. You had stared at him with big eyes, not knowing what to do or how to feel about this situation. “I’ll be truthful with you. I’ll tell you everything you want to hear.” The man had tried to grasp your hands again but had immediately stopped when he had seen, how you had flinched away. His lips had formed into a thin, bitter line while seeing your reaction. Was he a monster? “I see that my words don’t seem to get through you” he said stoically. “I’ll show you what I mean, that might help. We’ll be seeing each other soon enough.” His last sentence had sent you a cold shiver down your spine. You had had the feeling that he hadn’t referred to another dream… An expression of horror had slowly crept on your face.

“What do you mean?”, you had blurted out loudly, “you mean in our dreams, right? You don’t know where I live, do you?” But the stranger had cruelly decided to stay silent, staring at you ominously instead. Suddenly, the light atmosphere around you had changed. Heaviness had taken over you, the scenic landscape had turned black as you had woken up.

 You took another look at your clock. 5:15 a.m. Did you really spend so much time recalling that dream? Deciding that you already wasted too many thoughts on that man, you stood up from your bed and took a shower, even if it still was early. “Some distraction will do me good”, you sighed, exhaustion manifesting in your voice. Your dreams involving the stranger were always so vivid that the next morning you woke up completely tired and drained. As you entered the shower and felt the warm water hitting your skin, you finally managed to relax a little, even if that tiny voice of fear kept reminding you of the dream man’s words…

 Weeks had passed since your last encounter in the dream world with your so called soulmate. A sense of hope blossomed in your chest. Maybe he had finally come to his senses and realised that it would be best to leave you alone? That was at least what your friends had told you. They had reassured you that it happened often, that your soulmate could be invasive, they had heard that before from other acquaintances. But in those cases, it had always ended well, none of the people had been harmed. You had chosen to blindly accept that explanation. Truth be told, you did need comfort right now. Because, what your friends didn’t know was, that you felt a pair of eyes burning holes into your back every time you left your home. Yet, you never saw the person behind the gaze. Foolishly, you clung onto the sense of security your friends provided you with, even if it was but wishful thinking…

 As you returned home one evening after your work, you already perceived intuitively that something was wrong. Why was there a light on? You always did turn them off… Cautiously, you entered your bedroom, as that was where the light source came from, with your phone in your hand with the emergency number already typed in. Your palms grew sweaty and your breath heavy as fear flooded through your veins. Only now, you thought that you should have maybe taken a knife from the kitchen as protection. But alas, it was already too late. When you saw the person sitting on your bed, you were surprised to see a familiar face.

The man from your dreams quickly stood up when he glanced at your form. His eyes first landed on your horrified face, then on your phone. Without a second thought, you quickly tapped on the call button and placed the device next to your ear. The man knew exactly who you were planning on phoning. “Please, take the phone away Y/N, I’m not going to harm you”, he said lowly. Even though he promised to not hurt you, his dark expression on his face made you think otherwise. Of course you weren’t going to hang up now. You heard the Italian sigh at your act of defiance. After the second beep sound, a voice appeared on the line. 

“How can I help you?”, the person on the other side of the phone asked politely. Before you could reply, an to you invisible force ripped the device out of your grasp and slammed it onto your wall. The screen of your smartphone turned black and cracked into thousand pieces. With eyes as big as saucers you stared incredulously at it. 

“I’m sorry for that”, the man simply uttered. Though you couldn’t hear a hint of actual remorse in his voice. “I’m gonna buy you a new one.” 

“What do you want?”, you managed to voice, “I thought you had left me in peace.” 

“I’ve told you at our last encounter that we would see each other again, fiore mio”, the man replied with softness. “I can’t believe you’re really here physically”, he kept on musing in a dreamy tone, eyes lighting up. He took a few steps towards you, a hand reaching out to you. You instinctively took a few steps back until your back hit the door. 

“Please, don’t come near me”, you begged, feeling completely helpless and exposed. 

“It’s fine Y/N, really. I promised I’d you show that I won’t ever hurt you again.” He was now in front of you, your faces so close, you could feel his breath fan over your nose. Tears welled up in your eyes and threatened to stream over your face. What were you going to do now? You were scared to react in a sudden way, scared it would trigger the Italian and his dangerous invisible force. Gently, the man shushed you and placed a hand on your cheek.  A calloused thumb brushed away the tears that had finally escaped. “I know that I have done bad things in the past,” he whispered quietly to you, “but I, Leone Abbacchio, swear I will fix it. I will be a better person for you, Y/N.” Your eyes widened at the revelation of his name. Abbacchio basked in your innocent reaction. He took a mental note to replay it with Moody Blues later. While one hand kept caressing your cheek, the other one grabbed into his pocket to take out a yellow flower, matching perfectly with the man’s eyes. Your gaze fell upon the plant, recognising it from the flower field of your dreams. Abbacchio softly tucked it behind your left ear while admiring your face. You hiccupped anxiously at his obsessive staring. “We will have a beautiful future ahead of us, I’ll make sure of it” the Italian murmured in your ear. 

“After all, we are soulmates.”

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo #Jojo Part 5 #jojo golden wind #jojo vento aureo #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere abbacchio #yandere abbacchio x reader #minors dni #goth tiddy man #tw: yandere #tw: noncon touching #tw: injury #tw: implied kidnapping #tw: angst #tw: stalking

[slasherbastard]

How would the slashers act if there s/o had a musical talent? Like amazing singing or plays an instrument? Just curious. Love your blog

thank you so much! You have no idea how excited I’ve been to post this, also I didn’t know what slashers to do so I threw together some random ones who I haven’t written for much (and Brahms, you can’t forget Brahms)

(gif credit: macmillanestate)

Poly!Billy and Stu

You're in a band as the electric guitarist/lead vocalist, probably a pop punk band

Billy and Stu always come to your shows

Even if they have murder plans, they will 100% show up to support their favourite person and their band afterwards (but mostly you)

Supportive boyfriends™

Back when you were practicing with your band in your parent's garage, Billy and Stu were the walking definition of happy heckling

It was either you kick them out of the garage or practice at someone else's place

Long story short, the drummer's house is pretty cool

They get to hear your band's songs early, no exceptions

They will want to help you with song writing

Stu: "Okay okay what about you just start screaming at this part?"

Billy: "Ooh wait, you should sing this part then go into the chorus"

Stu: "Will I be credited on the album as a co-songwriter?"

"Yeah, definitely Stu."

When your band goes on tour they will miss you like crazy, Stu will cry and beg you not to go

One of them - if not both - have probably tried hiding in your suitcases

If you’re performing at a show that isn’t too far, there’s a chance that Billy and Stu will show up and surprise you

Your band either hates or loves them

You may or may not have had to replace one of the ruder members after their mysterious disappearance, your boyfriends definitely didn’t have anything to do with it

Okay he was getting on your nerves and Billy caught him flirting with you- oh, you guys weren’t flirting? You were just showing him your new guitar? Oof

They’ve definitely been kicked out of multiple venues for being happy hecklers

"That's my Y/N! Wooh!"

"We love you, babe!"

(gif credit: boodalinski-gifs)

Brahms Heelshire

Before taking the job as a babysitter, you were a pianist

When Mrs. Heelshire first showed you the “classroom” you were so happy to see that they owned a piano

You wanted to ask if you could play it but you did arrive later than you’d expected so you’s expected

So you waited until your first day with Brahms

Brahms didn’t expect his nanny to know how to play the piano so when you sat down and started playing one of your favourite pieces, he was hooked

The human Brahms started leaving you notes and sheets of music that he wanted you to learn, bonus points if you already knew them

It confused you, but you weren’t complaining. You love playing piano and it was one way to stop you from dying of boredom

When you’re doing chores you gently sing along to whatever song is playing on your phone

You found out about the real Brahms in the middle of the night when you heard someone playing a lullaby on the piano 

You followed the music and saw him sitting there, lost in the music

When Brahms saw you he expected you to run, but instead you sat next to him and watched him play

But knowing Brahms, he’d probably stop and make you play a piece for him

This happens everytime you catch him playing

So you’ve started pretending not to hear it, when you’re actually standing just outside the room

Brahms caught you once, you sing a lot louder than you think you do

(gif credit: vork---m)

Bubba Sawyer

Texas in the mid 1970s? You’re probably an acoustic guitarist who knows a few country songs

But your musical expertise isn’t shortened to just country songs, you also know how to play some blues and a few older songs from the 30s-50s (think Diamond City Radio from Fallout 4?)

When Bubba found out you could play the guitar he begged you to play him something

You probably played him Johnny Cash, maybe Betty Hutton

Sometimes you put on concerts for him, his cousins, and sometimes his grandpa

Hell, sometimes Drayton will even listen - he won’t admit that he likes hearing you play but you’ve caught him singing and dancing along to you playing the guitar more times than either of you would like to admit

When Bubba isn’t busy dealing with victims he’ll definitely sit with you and watch you practice

If a song comes on the radio that he knows that you can play, he’ll ask you to play it on your guitar

When you sing he also tries to sing - well, babbles but it’s still adorable

Bubba would encourage you to perform in public at a nearby bar - although he can’t come and see you for obvious reasons

Or he’ll beg you to record yourself playing and send it to a radio station

If you did and they decided to play it, Bubba would be more excited than you

He’d babble so much, roughly translating to something along the lines of-

"I'm so proud of you! My baby Y/N is famous!"

Would Bubba cry? Yes

Bubba’s always gonna be your biggest fan, no matter if you get famous or only play for him and his family in the living room

If he could, he’d brag about you to everyone

Sometimes when he’s dealing with victims he’ll babble to them as if he’s trying to tell them that his Y/N is one of the most talented humans he’d ever me

"They're amazing - stop screaming i'm trying to tell you about the love of my life - sigh, okay fine *chainsaw noises*

(gif credit: theghostbeaters)

Amanda Young

Amanda LOVES hearing you sing

She idolises you, although she’s a tiny bit jealous about your voice

It makes her wonder how she was so lucky to score someone like you

If you write a song about her, she will be obsessed

She’ll hum it while she’s setting up the next games and while preparing the next victims

When she first introduces you to John, he’ll tell you that Amanda is beyond obsessed with you

You won’t see it, but she’ll be making faces and hand gestures at John trying to shut him up and stop embarrassing her

"This one does not shut up about you"

"Did you write her a song? She sings it constantly!"

"I swear I should invent a trap to shut her up"

It’s like a father-daughter relationship between those two, it’s amusing

Sometimes you try to get Amanda to sing with you as well

Amanda’s more of a listener than a singer - unless she’s singing one of your songs

But she tries to sing with you as it makes you happy

She mostly enjoys your voice, though, especially when she’s not feeling the best mentally, it calms her

(gif credit: stabhappyslashers)

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent didn’t know you could sing until he caught you singing along to one his brother’s CDs, so you know it’s gonna be either heavy, edgy, or both

Spoiler alert: it was a Deftones album

You were upstairs doing who knows what when he heard loud music, and he doesn’t like being disturbed especially when he’s working

He came upstairs to tell you to turn your music down but was stunned when he heard you singing those harsh vocals almost entirely at the same level as the vocalist

When you realised Vincent was watching you you nearly passed out from shock

He’s really quiet

You’d quickly pause your music and apologise

"Oh- Uh sorry Vincent. I didn't see you there"

"Were you working? Shit, you were working. I am so sorry"

Although you were embarrassed, Vincent thought it was cute

He’d sign at you not to be embarrassed and he’d leave you to finish whatever you were previously doing

He listens to you sing more often, he’s a sucker for your voice

If you’re in the studio with him and you start softly humming he won’t stop you

Although it might distract him and cause him to take too much wax off of one of his works (sorry Vincent)

Bonus: (aka, sort of shitposts)

Poly!Billy and Stu - Billy and Stu were never huge fans of Alice Cooper but after you forced them to watch Monster Dog, they have not shut up about Identity Crisises

Brahms Heelshire - As much as Brahms loves you and your musical talent, he really wants you to stop playing “meme songs” on the piano. He can’t stand whatever a “wii shop theme” is

Bubba Sawyer - three words. Friends Without Faces

Amanda Young - Amanda’s guilty pleasure? Musicals - Just don’t mention Repo! The Genetic Opera, though

Vincent Sinclair - He’ll record you singing - with your permission, of course - for an exhibition in the House of Wax

#first requested work yay #slasher #writing #slasher headcanons #poly!billy and stu #billy loomis #stu macher #scream #billy loomis headcanons #stu macher headcanons #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire headcanons #the boy 2016 #bubba sawyer #leatherface #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #bubba sawyer headcanons #leatherface headcanons #amanda young #saw #amanda young headcanons #vincent sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair headcanons

[popurikat]

Newtmas essay when?

Finally getting to this, thanks for waiting, I needed to go over a few bookmarks. (Warning, this post contains spoilers from the MAZE RUNNER book and FEVER CODE book, so if you haven’t read either or yet and want the jist of my analysis; just know that in general the fandom interpreting Newt as gay before it was revealed on a twitter post was not just a random headcanon and that Thomas in general is portrayed to have very strong unconditional love for Newt throughout the series; and it shows. To the point that even the director for the movie has stated that Newt and Thomas have a strong bond and portrays that in the movies. I will also preface that I am NOT adding personal opinion anywhere here, these are just backings from quotes and how they are thus meant to be taken/read as. My words are taken as a reader who is currently reading Scorch Trials has yet to fully read Death Cure or Crank Palace.) Anways, without further ado at 3AM today, I’ll try my best to explain how even though Dashner tries his best to make Thomas have other, female love interests; he creates a not so subtle gay subtext for Tommy boy here when in the context of interacting with Newt throughout the lore. Apologies beforehand for any grammar mistakes along the way.

To commence, I am going to start with FEVER CODE, as its supposed to act as the story’s preface to the actual events that play out later. Newt and Thomas upon meeting each other describe their presence as “familiar” and or as a “long lost friend” and they genuinely hit it off from the start to the point that Newt is okay with having Thomas see him cry over the fact that he and his sister are separated since he is doomed to be WCKD’s control analysis as he’s the only one lacking immunity from the flare itself. Once Newt is done being emotionally vulnerable we get our first instance of his personal nickname for Thomas: “That’s the way things are Tommy,’ he said his voice not quite steady. ‘The world outside’s gone to hell. Why should we expect any different here? [...] He said it as if they’d been friends for years” (ch. 14).   An interesting note here is that Thomas doesn’t bother to correct him or stifle the moment by feeling that all this information was too much, he genuinely wanted to hear Newt out and is fine with seeing this side of him; if not slightly taken aback by how natural it is that they can converse about such aspects of their lives. In fact, Newt makes such an impact on Thomas that Thomas ends up that same night dreaming of him: “Throughout his shortened night, he dreamed of Newt and Sonya. Of Newt and Lizzy“(Ch. 14). The thing with Thomas though is that the idea of comfort and connection is very foreign to him as he’s been basically isolated all his life with only the adults like Ava to talk to and the one exception being Teresa as his only kid companion. So Thomas didn’t even think he could make others like him for being himself unless they were vital to the overall production of WCKD. Seeing this portion right before the end of chapter 14: “Alby, Minho, Newt, Teresa. Thomas had friends.” shows that Thomas really had to deep dive to see how he deals with personal connections and why he was excited about the notion of friendship. He could’ve been happy with just Teresa, but only fully cemented her bond to him as “friend” when his circle grew and these kids he got to hang with taught him he can be himself, a concept he didn’t realize was possible when all his life was dictated on what he was supposed to learn or do. It becomes especially clear just how controlled his life is with the aspect of sentiment when later on Teresa’s mental communication evokes physcial pain and fear in Thomas. I’ll get back to that later as its more of a small tid bit of Thomas’ view on his forced love interest, Teresa. And yes, I say forced because multiple sentences with Thomas have him even wish he could cease all communication with her. Moving on, let’s talk about mimicking for a second. As humans, we mimic as a behavioral response to become closer to the person we care about. It’s the reason why yawning or laughter is contagious and or why we copy the posture of the person we converse with face to face. Thomas is seen to do this the most with Newt’s quirks. I’ll give the example in chapter 15: “Newt has been promising them that he was saving something special, and he did that annoying zipped-lipped sign every time [...] the little light in his eyes showed he enjoyed every second of their torture” versus Thomas: “Thomas did Newt’s zipped-lipped gesture, and that got him a sharp poke in the ribs”. So, we know enough that Thomas’ mannerisms are developing as a sign that he wants to be closer to Newt and to continue this sense of playfulness they both enjoy from the other. This is the start of their budding bond and a clear indication that they hold each other at greater fondness than the rest through this unconscious copying. Through this copying, they also pick up on emotional cues the other lets up on. Newt is especially good at noticing small things like when Thomas is anxious or overthinking: “He was just shocked that with all their exploring, the others hadn’t already discovered it on their own. And there were supposed to be TWO mazes. How had Newt and his friends not stumbled upon either one of them? ‘Tommy?’ Thomas realized Newt was staring straight at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry,’ he said embarrassed, ‘wandered off for a second there what did you say?’ Newt shook his head in admonishment. ‘Try to keep up, Tommy Are you ready to see the grat outdoors?” (ch. 15). Also in chapter 23: “Tommy?’ It was Newt, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘I can see your wheels spinnin’ up there.’ He tapped the side of his head”. This furthers Newts perceptiveness on his friend and Thomas’ ability to pick out when he is being looked after. And they bounce off each other really well in that aspect. To the point that Newt can crack a joke he knows will land right on Thomas’ sense of humor: “Newt waggled his fingers in front of Thomas’ face [...] A laugh exploded out of Thomas’ mouth that sent a spray everywhere. ‘Sorry’ he said, wiping his lips on his sleeve” (ch.15). It’s enjoyable to know that at least at a surface level, they have fun together and can cheer the other up if needed or know when to ground the other to reality. It is also through these instances that as a reader I pick up that Thomas’ nervous ticks perhaps allude to an anxiety disorder he has; of which Newt is aware of and never puts Thomas down on for exhibiting. He in fact understands it and deals with it accordingly as he himself has a similar circumstance. SO, what does all this paying attention lead to? Thomas’ devotion to protect Newt. Yeah, thats right I said devotion. Thomas’ actions are influenced by his developed instinct to protect Newt at all costs. Here is the biggest example that comes to mind: “What in the world happened to Newt? -- Less then two hours later, Thomas had spliced together a series of camera clips [...] Thomas turned off the feed. He couldn’t take it anymore...Newt, Newt, Newt, Thomas thought, feeling as if the very air around him were turning black.”(ch.52). Essentially, Thomas seeing Newt plummet to his near death by falling from the maze wall as a result of Newt’s ongoing depressive state, this is the moment that makes Thomas realize WICKD isn’t as good as they seem and that he is going into the maze to save Newt. Its admirable how much self sacrifice Thomas does for someone he cares so much about, to the point that their name is like a mantra. Thats a sensible area of passion and fighting spirit for someone who is “just a friend”.    Oh and, the feeling of fondness is mutual mind you if I haven’t been clear. After experiencing the horrors of cranks for the first time, realizing Newt was not immune, and watching Newt until they entered the pits it has been months since they last interacted; this is their first reunion: “What’s up Tommy?’ Newt exclaimed, his face filled with genuine happiness at the pleasant surprise that’s been sprung on him. Thomas couldn’t remember exactly how long it’d been since he’d seen Newt. ‘You look bloody fantastic for three in the morning” (ch. 23). I need to preface this that Newt DOES NOT mean that sarcastically and that out of all the people in the room (Minho, Chuck and Teresa are there in this scene), Thomas only reacts this way specifically toward seeing Newt is okay and back.   The characters are also not afraid of being physically close. “Well, look who the bloody copper dragged in,’ Newt said, pulling Thomas into a big hug” (ch.31), “They shook hands, and then the two of them set off...” (ch. 31), and my favorite: “Thomas jumped at the sound, then stumbled. Newt tripped over him, and then they were both laughing, legs and arms tangled in a pile on the ground”(ch.32). I don’t think this far in the novel, Thomas has been AS (emphasis on as) comfortable with touch  with anyone else other than Newt. And thats a big step forward on the aspect of trust in a relationship, being able to be comfortable with the presence of another person enough to be as intimate with them as shown here.  And all this, is just fever code itself. Mind you this is not the MEAT of the novels as it came out later. But even without it, lets look at Thomas in Maze now, I’ll try to keep this segment a lot more brief. Here’s Thomas looking respectively at boys his age: “A tall kid with blond hair and a square jaw...a thick, heavy muscled Asian kid folded his arms as he studied Thomas, his tight shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his biceps [...] Newt was taller than Alby too, but looked to be a year or so younger, His hair was blond and cut long, cascading over his T-shirt. Veins stuck out of his muscled arms”(ch. 2). Thomas’ initial reaction to being surrounded by boys is to deeply analyze their rugged good looks and heavily emphasize their best physical traits. When reading this the first time, my mind immediately thought this boy at the very least is supposed to be portrayed as bi, especially when later down the line Teresa gets a similar descriptor: “...despite her paleness, she was really pretty...silky hair, flawless skin, perfect lips, long legs.” So right off the bat, we know that be it boy or girl, Thomas emphasizes how attractive someone looks in his eyes when he truly does have a sense of attraction to them. Case closed. Within the same chapter we get Thomas also immediately clinging onto Newt for a sense of grounding, it is now ingrained in him at this point that the boy is his lifeline, a person to rely on. “Thomas looked over at Newt, hoping for help.” And help he does, Newt in this chapter helps ease his worries, explain a general idea of what the glade is and even pats him on the shoulder a bit to ease tension. And Thomas doesn’t bat an eye in the same way he’s weary of literally everyone else. In fact, he’s eager to stay put with him as shown with; “If Newt went up there, then I wanna talk to him.” And if none of that seals the deal, we got early bird Newt being so touch starved he flattens himself next to Thomas to wake him up at the crack of Dawn in chapter 6: “Someone shook Thomas awake. His eyes snapped open to see a too-close face staring down at him, everything around them still shadowed by the darkness of early morning...’Shh, Greenie. Don’t wanna be waking up Chuckie, now, do we?’ It was Newt --the guy who seemed second in command; the air reeked of his morning breath. Though Thomas was surprised, any alarm melted away immediately”. This whole scene follows firstly by Thomas once again impressed by how strong Newt is and then Newt giving him a rundown of what everyone else was too afraid to show Thomas, the grievers. And you know, this scene could’ve ended well and everything as totally platonic, but then we have “Newt turned to look at him dead in the eye. The first traces of dawn had crept up on them, and Thomas could see EVERY DETAIL OF NEWT’S FACE, HIS SKIN TIGHT, HIS BROW CREASED.” Now, look me in the eye and tell me there is a hetero explanation on looking at your best bro like they are the sun reincarnated themselves. But let’s not hog all the homosexual undertones with Thomas here. Wanna know what Newt’s initial reaction to having a girl in the glade was? “It’s a girl,’ he said [...] Newt shushed them again. ‘That’s not bloody half of it,’ he said, then pointed down into the box. ‘I think she’s dead” (ch.8). It’s actually a stark contrast to the other gladers eagerly wanting to know her age, how pretty she looked, and calling dibs to date her; Newt isn’t interested in any of that, he’s more perplexed on her status and not even bothering to remark on her looks, he was the only one not to and even remarks a few other instances that girls are more Thomas’ domain. For instance, he makes a joke in fever code when Thomas remarks that the girls in the institution were going to tackle him down, Newt proceeds to point out sarcastically something along the lines of “wait, isn’t that YOUR dream though?” So Newt is pretty out spoken of his disinterest in girls, and his full admiration and attention on Thomas. Oh, and yes, Newt immediately switches over to “Tommy” the moment Thomas mentions he hates being called greenie, and once again it just becomes a thing between only the two of them. Newt is also the one to be straight forward about the whole Runners business. He warns Thomas about the dangers and doesn’t necessarily turn him down on his desire to be one, he in fact encouraged him to just wait until the right moment. “No one said you couldn’t, but give it a rest for now”(ch. 15). So once again, Newt is the voice of confidence and reason for Thomas to prosper. In turn, this time around Thomas is the one to catch when something is bothering Newt. For instance, “Newt chewed his fingernails, something he hadn’t seen the older boy do before...he was genuinely concerned -- Newt was one of the few people in the Glade he actually liked ”(ch.16). Interesting how we went from fever code “friend” to “like”. And also, when Newt explains his concern about the runners not coming back yet, Thomas pieces together how scared Newt is of the Maze without being told and goes to stand next to him as a physical presence to ground Newt as they wait near the entrance. In fact, this piece is trivial to understand why Thomas does what he does next. When everyone else had given up on the Runners still outside with 2 minutes left til closing, and Newt was escorted away from the entrance, Thomas waited. And when Thomas saw them, he yells to Newt, realizes he’s too far to do anything, and makes a decision himself. He KNEW how much Newt cared about his fellow Gladers, they were like family or “kin” as its said in the book, so what does he do? “Don’t do it Tommy! Don’t you bloody do it!’ ... Thomas knew he had no choice. He moved. Forward. He squeezed past the connecting rods at the last second and stepped into the maze”(ch.16). Yes, Thomas does this because of his empathy for the Gladers, but the chain reaction of Newt’s concern is what sets his decision in stone. And yet again, Thomas enters the maze for Newt.  And that’s pretty much the constant for the rest of Maze Runner the book, Newt just sticking up for Thomas and Thomas in turn just being happy that: “He was at least relieved that Newt was there” (ch.17). And thats basically their entire dynamic. Newt just going: “If you really did help design the maze Tommy, it’s not your fault. You‘re a kid -- you can’t help what they forced you to do” to ease the survivor’s trauma Thomas has, as well as saying “I actually believe you. You just don’t have an ounce of lying in those eyes of yours. And I can’t bloody believe I’m about to say this...but I’m going back in there to convince those shanks we should go through the griever hole, just like you said”(ch.51); and I think thats the most romantic thing to hear from him. Just right out being all for supporting Thomas no matter what happens as long as he stays alive and continues to fight, he doesn’t care about what happened before. And Thomas eats that up because it fuels him even more to seek out a means to escape for the people (Newt) that deserve a life outside of running from monsters forever. So essentially, I’ll state again, it’s always been Newt the catalyst for Thomas to run head first into the Maze and seek freedom. And with all this I can clear that these two are shown to if not be romantically involved, at least have unconditional love for the other that transcends the author’s original intention.  And with that in mind, here’s the thing with Teresa as a love interest. I can list here quotes of every time she mind speaks to Thomas and how that affects him, but then this would be too long. And this is a newtmas post gosh darn it. Teresa is gleeful to humiliate, control, hurt, and force Thomas to believe they’re in love. In multiple instances we get her barging into his mind unwarranted making him understand that she has full access to his inner most thoughts. Theres nothing romantic about that, and I think its why Thomas ends up being so perceptive to the smallest of gestures that allow him to think on his own and feel like his own person. Something I’ve seen Brenda do later in scorch, and something I’ve seen Newt do since the very beginning is that they allow Thomas to come to his own conclusions in order to create his own opinions on the matters at hand. Thomas’ love language revolves around words of affirmation. He likes it when people confirm his thoughts are valid and that remind him that WICKD can’t hurt him anymore now that he has the power to be his own person. This is where Newt comes in very handy. He allows Thomas to grow in ways his female love interests have yet to show, sorry Brenda but I’ve heard you were trying to unite all immunes together to the safe haven by the end and in a sense still only using Thomas to get by; I still think she was the better call than teresa of course and I have no remorse for Teresa getting smushed by a boulder. But essentially my point here is that, how do you fail to make your initial love interests clash so badly where one has no real care about the others well being so long as everything goes according to WCKD by using a form of gaslighting and manipulation? AND THOMAS HAS STATED HIS DISCOMFORT ON THIS MULTIPLE TIMES, but the narrative always erases these instances from his mind in place of pity for Teresa’s well being (as you can tell, Teresa through this becomes my least favorite character, I can rant about her some othe time though with proper backing). The narrative in turn treats it all like a joke. I understand there are scenes where Thomas is worried about her and looks out to make sure shes ok, but even then he doesn’t know how to react with mental images of her kissing his cheek or when she screams the next minute that she doesn’t know who he is or how hes speaking into her mind. And thats because they can’t properly communicate their emotions to the other, not even in fever code could Thomas give a forward answer if he loved Teresa or not, she just assumed. Come to think of it, Thomas really doesn’t show much affection to Teresa of his own accord. So then, how DOES Thomas show his affection? Thomas provides acts of service as his love language, if he cares about you enough he will risk his life for you. Why? Because Thomas values putting the people he loves foremost knowing full well they are what help him have purpose and succeed in continuing on. In a way, Newt and Thomas’ dynamic works in this instance because they balance the other out and because they have seen each other at their worst and at their best. In a way, that's why knowing the ending of the books makes it harder to accept that Thomas would just easily take the shot...when all his life clung to Newt’s survival. But that’s a story for another time where I compare the movies (of which let me make that clear, yes I prefer) over the books. For now just know that the book may have done this by accident, maybe not, but at the end of the day theres solid proof that Thomas and Newt care about each other in a way that is separately portrayed from their connection to the other glade members, and have this consistency of soft moments running through the entirety of the series. In conclusion; newtmas. Newtmas. NEWTMAS, etc.

#Newtmas #long post #Skquill #ask #The ending gets a bit ranty with Teresa I must admit #but for the most part its just me recalling the best newtmas moments from the novels I've currently read #Please add on more newtmas proof to the thread

[saundraswriting]

Huddling for Warmth

“I decided to join a writing challenge for @bonkywobble‘s hafwayto1K. I did Huddling for Warmth and Cosmogyral. I hope you enjoy! I also have a mutil-fandom blog @saundrasays

SUMMARY: You head to DC with Steve and Bucky and on the way back after an unexpected dip in the Potomac leads to you three huddling for warmth on the Quinjet. 

Masterlist // Ao3

Being a personal assistant to the Avengers was definitely more than you bargained for. You had been hired by Pepper. There were too many Avengers and not enough hands to wrangle them on the busy days or the day to day things. You accepted without hesitation, getting to work right along the Avengers, even if most of your work was tedious and some days felt like you were watching over toddles. You had gotten lucky to be given Captain Steve Rogers and Sargent James “Bucky” Barnes. They were easy to get along with, not very demanding and honestly cared for you. They asked to you go with them to meetings away from the compound and to PR stunts around the world knowing how much you like to travel and learn about the world. The arrangement was better than you could have ever hoped for after graduating college with a business management degree.

“Hey, Y/N. You ready to go? We have that meeting down in Washington today. You wanted to go didn’t you?” Captain Rogers asked knocking on the open frame of your door. You looked up from where you were packing your purse. One thing working and living with the Avengers taught you to be ready for everything.

“Yeah. I am excited. This is the first time I get to be there with the Cherry Blossom festival. I am so excited. I have been trying to go for ages. I am hoping with it being a weekday it won’t be so busy.” You quickly looked around hoping you didn’t forget anything, you patted yourself down to find you phone.

“I am glad that you get to go then. Remember to grab your camera, doll.” Sargent Barnes chimed in from behind Steve. You snapped your fingers beaming and got the top of the line camera that was their most recent Christmas gift to you.

“Thank you, Sargent Barnes. I am ready now.” You grabbed your bag. You looked up at the two super soldiers with a bright grin. You were so happy to be able to be apart of their lives, you were even happier that they got to be part of each other’s lives. The two of them moved against the wall, giving you room to lock your door and say bye to FRIDAY.

“We’re taking the Quinjet today. Well, one of them.” Captain Rogers told you. They let you go before them, shortening their stride to keep just behind you. “I figured that way you would be there as soon as possible. I know it is a little early but I figure that way you would have the whole day to yourself, sweetheart.”

“Oh! That is so nice of you. Thank you so much. We should hurry then.” You picked up your pace. Steve and Bucky shared a smile, letting you get further ahead, the picnic they planned in secret would be a perfect surprise for you too.

Upon arriving at the Triskelion’s airfield, you all got into an elevator. “Sargent Barnes and Captain Rogers, you know where you are going? You will be okay? Do I need to send the meeting points again?” You were fidgeting in place trying to force the professionalism you didn’t feel.

“We are perfectly fine. If we need anything, we can always ask someone here. We want you to go and have fun. We have a surprise planned for you around 1:30. We’ll call you okay? Go take lots of pictures. Enjoy yourself. I know you are dying to, doll.” Sargent Barnes gave you a light shove into the lobby towards the doors.

“Okay. If you are sure. Then I’ll be off. See you later.” You scurried off through the doors, a bubble of excitement practically visible.

“Oh how I wish we were going with her. I would rather do anything than this meeting. Aw, well. The faster we are done, the faster we see her again.” Steve clapped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “We decided to do this so we can spend the afternoon with her. So let’s get a move on. The two of them stepped back into the elevator to begin their morning of meetings that probably had no application to them, but seeing as they were the only ones free, were forced to go to.

The day dragged as slowly as they believed it would. The only thing that broke up the monotony was the food they were given constantly and the selfies you sent or the social media updates you posted. Ever picture was somehow better than the next, the lighting and angles getting better, your smile bigger. Steve and Bucky could feel their fondness and pride and affection for you grow. You may have stumbled into their lives as their PA but your meant more than that now. You were part of their family.

“Thank you both for coming today. I appreciate it. Having you here is important. I will make sure to send everything of note to you PA later today. See you later.” Maria Hill and several other SHIELD agents left the room.

“Sweet freedom! You go get lunch and I will call Y/N. Find a place to meet.” Steve said. Bucky nodded and they headed over the elevators. Steve went down in one while Bucky went up in another. Steve called you on the way down.

“Hey. I was wondering if you were free to meet for our surprise. Bucky and I got out and are done for the day. I had a place in mind if you were okay with it.” Steve’s voice came across your phone. You grinned at nothing, looking up at the sakura tree you were taking a break under.

“For you, anything. Want to meet at the Triskelion? Or should I meet you at the location? I can do either.” You packed up your meager belongings, leaving you camera out for more pictures.

“I have a spot next to the Potomac. It is near a park and has a great view. How about you meet us here and we will all go together.” Steve suggested. You hummed in agreement turning towards the Triskelion.

When you got there, Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes were waiting patiently by the doors. They both had a basket hanging on their arms. You tilted you head in confusion. “Are-”

“Nope. No questions. Follow us. It isn’t too far away.” Steve and Bucky led the way to a small nature park on the bank of the Potomac. There was a natural depression leading to a very nice dock and scenery. The three of you weren’t the only ones enjoying the warmth of the sun. There were a few other families, but they stayed at tables while Bucky and Steve readied the picnic under a tree near the bank. They set up nice finger foods and warm tea and fruit on plates for all of you to enjoy. You took a few pictures while you all talked about your day, laughing at the two super soldiers uneasiness. The hours passed and just as you were getting ready to suggest a sunset trip back to the cherry blossoms you were interrupted but a mother yelling for her son.

“It’s too cold to swim, sweetie. We can’t go in. We have to wait for the weather to get warmer. You’ll get sick if you-” Her words fell on deaf ears as the child, laughing, jumped off the dock into the river.

“No! Charlie, you can’t swim.” The mother began to run faster but you and Steve and Bucky could see him thrashing in the water, too deep and cold for him to survive long. The mother’s screams were getting more frantic and You could feel the two men freeze next to you.

They already had issues going into water as it was, let alone the freezing water of the Potomac. You scrambled to your feet before quickly stripping your outer layers. “I am gonna get that kid.” You raced off, not even missing a beat before you arced off the dock and swam out to the kid. You could feel the bottom of the river against your toes, not enough to stand firmly. You lift the kid above you, hoping he would stop thrashing and just breath. He did as you hoped calming significantly. You were reading water badly; you could feel it sitting in your lungs and stomach. Taking a deep breath, you tucked one arm under the young boy’s armpit and used the other one to swim back to shore.

You were slower on the return trip then the way out but you were tired. Bucky and Steve met you closer to the beach, you were kneeling trying to catch your breath. Steve picked up the kid and carried him back to his mom. You could just make out their cries of joy and Steve trying to explain the risks of hypothermia and pneumonia. Bucky-seeing as you could barely stand-picked you up and carried you to the blanket. You were shivering but weakly. Not a good sign when it comes to hypothermia.

“We need to get you changed. We’ll let Steve pack up. I’ll take you back to the Triskelion, we can get you some dry clothes at least. Then we can head home, doll.” Bucky said. Steve agreed hearing the trail end of the conversation. Bucky carried you back as he said he would, upon arrival Maria met them at the door.

“I’ll help her get changed. And dried. Then you guys can head home.” Maria took you into a locker room and stripped off your clothes. You weren’t very helpful, cold and tired and lethargic, you couldn’t help her much. She removed all your clothes, muttering under her breath. She redressed you in a tank top and t shirt and jacket, and two pairs of sweat pants and socks. She helped you back to Bucky who was joined by Steve.

“Let’s head back to the jet and then we can worry about getting you warm. You aren’t even shivering.” Bucky swept you up and the three of you got on the elevator.

“Sorry for ruining the day. I wanted to get more pictures too.” You sulked in Bucky’s arms.

“Yeah but you saved a little kid’s life. We were frozen.” Steve said. “Thank you for that, sweetheart.” He headed to the pilot seat, getting the jet up and running. Bucky settled down near you taking off your jacket and his shirt wrapping you up in blankets. You snuggled in cooing at the warmth he was putting off. Steve turned on the auto pilot, sending a message to Natasha to be ready to get you into a bath upon arrival.

“Come on, Steve. Join us. She could use the body heat.” Bucky jerked his head to entice him into your human fort of warmth and comfort. The next few hours were spent cuddling the furnaces that you called friends, shivering and almost biting off your tongue as you slowly heated up.

Steve got up close to the end of the flight to land the jet while Bucky stayed curled around you, listening to the slight rasp in your lungs as you breathed. Once they landed and the ramp came down, the others could only see the top of your and Bucky’s head and a mountain of blankets.

“Only the three of you could come back from a day of meeting and return with a hypothermic personal assistant. Amazing.” Natasha said. “Come on, let me fix it. Again.” The Avengers laughed and Bucky and Steve spluttered trying to explain themselves.

“I had a good time today. Thank you for letting me go along. I enjoyed the picnic too. Now, I am gonna take a shower and go to bed. See you tomorrow.” You clambered out of the nest on the floor of the Quin jet stumbling over to a sympathetic Natasha.

“We did too. Thank you for all your hard work. Tomorrow can you see Bruce for a checkup? We don’t want you getting sick now.” Steve and Bucky waved at you and Natasha from the top of the ramp. You hollered an affirmative as you were escorted away. “Well life certainly isn’t boring with her around.”

“No. and I wouldn’t change it for the world. We should clean up. Maybe we can have a movie night or something.” Steve said.

“Hell yeah. Let’s get a move on.” Bucky cheered.

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Well how was it?

#bonkyshalfwayto1k #saundrasays #saundraswriting #Steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #domestic avengers #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction