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toaverse · 2 years

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Disney Modern AU: some more Encanto characters

I got bored, so here's some more modern AU with Encanto side characters!

Note: I’ll do Mariano, Señora Guzmán and Osvaldo’s modern stories in a different post!

Alejandra

Alejandra Pezmuerto lived with her mother, Ozma Pezmuerto, and her father.

Since she could walk, the girl struggled to sit still and keep quiet, interrupting conversations and constantly moving her arms or legs whenever she did sit.

This caused quite a few problems for her parents, unable to manage their daughter sometimes.

When she was 4, Alejandra was diagnosed with ADHD. This explained quite a bit for her parents.

But despite her diagnosis, Alejandra was able to enroll and attend elementary school.

She quickly met two of her new classmates, Juancho and Cecilia, and the three quickly became friends.

While Cecilia sometimes couldn’t handle Alejandra constantly talking and walking all over the place, the two and Juancho formed a strong friendship.

But later in the school year, the three kids noticed a boy sitting all alone in class. He seemed lonely, and the teacher didn’t seem to notice it. So the three kids invited him to sit with them!

The boy accepted, though he seemed quite shy.

But soon enough, the boy started to talk to them, and introduced himself as Antonio.

Alejandra, Juancho and Cecilia soon became friends with him, and the four kids formed a strong friendship!

But one day, Antonio was really sad. He didn’t look at them, and seemed like he could burst into tears any moment…

Alejandra, Cecilia and Juancho tried cheering him up with coffee, but that didn’t do much…

Later, Antonio told them that his favorite prima, Mirabel, had left the family and moved to another country, somewhere far away!

Alejandra, Juancho and Cecilia hugged their friend while he bursted into tears, telling him that its okay to cry and that he still had them. They all three may be only-children, but they couldn’t imagine their parents suddenly leaving them and moving somewhere else…

Luckily, Antonio did get better after Juancho gave him a cup of coffee, and Alejandra talking about her mother’s goldfish.

Overal, despite some ups and downs, Alejandra wouldn’t trade her three friends for anything!

Juancho

Juancho lived with his mother and father, who didn’t really pay that much attention to him, at all. Sure, they gave him food, clothing and shelter and all the necessities, but they just left him to his own devices.

This caused the boy to wander all over the city, all by himself, feeling quite lonely. Thank goodness nothing happened to the kid…

He also started to drink coffee, lots and lots of coffee. Not that that’s concerning, many kids drink coffee in Colombia. It’s just the amount that worried adults…

Whenever people in Bogotá see the boy in question, he’s always wandering by himself with a full cup of coffee in his hands. Which always made adults ask; “Where are his parents?!”.

It wasn’t when Juancho started elementary school when it finally stopped.

That didn't stop the teachers from being concerned though. Some of them even considered calling CPS because they have literally never seen the boy's parents with him. But he wasn't abused and really seemed to be happy fine, so...

In school, the boy quickly made friends with two girls, Alejandra and Cecilia.

After the three kids met and befriended Antonio, Juancho would sometimes give him a cup of coffee to drink. While Antonio didn't like it, he appreciated the gesture.

While his parents barely acknowledged him, Juancho was happy to have his three friends by his side! They were his real familia, even when they were all 5 years old.

Cecilia

Cecilia lived with her single father, her mother having left the family for another man shortly after Ceci was born...

It hit her Papá quite hard, but he tried his best to raise his daughter.

Cecilia herself didn’t feel the absence of her mother…yet. She just knew that her Papá would always be there for her.

In elementary school, she quickly befriended two kids named Alejandra and Juancho. The two could sometimes be hyperactive and annoying, but Cecilia managed. She didn't want her best friends to be any different.

When she and her friends met and befriended Antonio, the four kids often had play-dates at Ceci's house. Alejandra's parents couldn't handle four kids, even for a few hours. Juancho's parents were barely home. And Antonio's parents were mostly working and his siblings didn't want three more kids in the house unless Mirabel was there to look after them. Ceci's father was happy to let the three kids in his house, happy to see his daughter having friends.

Cecilia was quite happy as well. She had an amazing papá, and three friends who are always there for her!

Señora Pezmuerto

Ozma actually went to high school with the triplets.

While she became friends with Pepa (who she was still friends with) and got along with Julieta, she despised Bruno. Something about that weirdo just irritated her, and she and Pepa often gossiped about him.

Time passed, and Ozma eventually got a job as a ichthyologist in one of Bogotá’s aquariums.

On the weekends whenever they were both free from their work, Ozma and Pepa would meet up at a café to catch up and gossip about the latest drama. This continued even after the two women got married to their respected husbands and had their families.

She eventually got married to her husband, and after many years of trying, they got a daughter who they named Alejandra.

Ever since their daughter could walk, Ozma and her husband struggled to manage her. Alejandra couldn’t sit still for more than 5 minutes, constantly talked and interrupted people, and just couldn’t keep quiet.

When their daughter was 4, Ozma and her husband took her to the doctor, because her hyperactiveness clearly wasn’t normal for a toddler.

Turned out that Alejandra had ADHD. It explained a lot for the parents, and they vowed to be there for Alejandra when things got tough for her, especially when she would start school.

Eventually, Alejandra did start school. And to Ozma’s surprise, it actually went pretty good for her daughter! She made two friends, and she was really happy!

Sure, there would be some struggles in the future, but Ozma and her husband were sure it would all turn out okay in the end.

#disney modern au #encanto alejandra #encanto juancho #encanto cecilia #señora pezmuerto #encanto au

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miyomiikonran · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 Day 8

Being late with those challenges is like a rolling joke at this point for me... But well, I'm not having the greatest time right now. Still I'm determined to try. So like I promised, here's the continuation of the situation from Day 2!

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Today's theme: Everything hurts and I'm dying

Chosen prompt: Back from the dead

Universe: Wakfu

Character/s: Isei & Shinuo

Word count: ~1000

Tw: Deadly injuries, main character death

_________________________________________

Fear is something every being experiences every once in a while, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, but it's undeniable. Some people still try to pretend they don't feel scared...but they can only do that for so long. Isei surely did most of his short life. No matter how bad the situation, he never admitted being scared. No matter how badly beaten up or wounded he ended up, he always somehow made it out. Duh, he made it out of Brakmar's jail! But now... It seemed hopeless. Everyone, including him was down, unable to move or unconscious, leaving only that weak miserable fairy out there against Rogues. At the same time, all of his cuts, that gunshot wound in his stomach and his pierced foot was bleeding...badly. It hurt like a bitch too, especially his stomach, this burning, shaggy hole that was making it so hard to breath, pain piercing him through all the way to his spine, making him sick. He could feel blood in his mouth. His body never felt that...heavy... He couldn't move anymore and even though he knew the sun was out, he couldn't feel it on his skin anymore. Instead it was so cold... So damn cold. Even keeping his head up was too much at this point, so he just laid there, when Shinuo got kicked closer to him. Of course he's gonna be a crybaby, he can't even go down without being pathetic... He just couldn't get him. It was beyond him. Of course, the world was divided between those who were strong and those who were weak, but even the weakest motherfucker out there could at least TRY to do SOMETHING! Go down while trying their best to survive, but this guy, it was just like he had no wish to live! He can hide all he wants behind his pitiful noble reasons, not wanting to harm anyone... But do these fuckers deserve it? No, they're just pieces of trash who would be better wiped out of the surface of the world. If not for himself, he thought he could do something for that girl, but...

That's when his blurry thought process was interrupted, when a faint glow appeared in the air in his field of view. At first, he had no idea what it was, his mind clouded by loss of blood not helping at all... But he didn't have to. Soon it was clear, it was a spell. His heavy eyelids opened wider, when he saw the damage it caused, the effect that went beyond any expectations he could ever have for that... That guy. And all of the sudden... He felt that cold grip somewhere inside. One could expect him to say something, comment on it, but his throat was squeezing tight. A bit of fear he didn't expect. If all this time he was capable of doing something like that, what else is he hiding....?

However... It all faded the moment the fairy got back to his senses and got up, stumbling on his way to him, his face worried sick and honestly afraid. But in the end, it was the same softie face he used to see every day for the last few months. Nothing changed...what did he even expect? What was he thinking? Pfff.

Although... There was nothing to laugh about here, really. Breathing hurt, he couldn't feel his legs or arms anymore, his eyes were trying to fall down all the time... He felt Shinuo cautiously turning him from his stomach to the side, he could hear his voice tremble once he saw a puddle of blood that gathered underneath him... If he could say anything, he would just laugh seeing the kind of expression he had on his face right now. But he couldn't cus his tongue was completely numb, just like his body. At this point...he kind of accepted it was the end of him. His eyelids finally fell down completely... But he still heard things for a bit. He felt Shinuo's hands on himself, heard his quiet, still a bit shaking voice, saying something... Reciting? Probably one of his healing things. But after that... everything faded away.

* * *

Next thing Sacrier remembered, surprised he can even remember anything really, was...this soft, kind of light feeling. And warmth, it was so warm all around him. He could feel his body once again, even though he still couldn't move it. And a light, white beam just underneath his eyelids. He barely remembered anything from before that feeling, everything succumbed to darkness in the back of his mind. Everything but that freezing cold, freezing him to what seemed like death... He could only guess it wasn't it then, no one can come back from that... Or?

When he woke up, it turned out a day had passed. He tried to ask that oh-so-smartie girl, but she couldn't explain what happened to him either. He thought he's gonna bleed to death, she said it was most likely to happen, with all the injuries he suffered and his blood being so thin and runny. And the main culprit of this whole mess... They couldn't ask either. Apparently, Shinuo was unconscious since she got back to her senses, she found them together next to each other. His body didn't even have a scratch. No scars, just that big puddle of blood on the ground, half-dried already, his bloodied clothes...and blade that once pierced through his foot, now broken in half on the ground.

Sure, Sacriers aren't known for their thinking, but if Feca doesn't know what happend, then that's concerning. He just sat there, looking at Eniripsa's fragile, almost white body for a while... They set up a small camp, she tucked him in, so he basically looked like he was sleeping, his softie face without any emotion showing up. And he felt that cold grip again. What the hell did you do....?

_________________________________________

This part as well was just something that stayed in my head for good old 10 years at this point... The ultimate moment when Isei finally started respecting Shinuo, his companion on this unexpected journey and in fac... He grew to fear him a bit, deep, deep inside, since he was the only one that witnessed what really hides underneath that layer of soft, pacifistic Eniripsa he always thought was just a pitiful coward. He saw both sides, destructive one and powerful healing abilities, his long life faithfulness to Goddess Eniripsa finally rewarded. Shinuo's character was always meant and designed to be extremely weak physically, but powerful when it comes to magic and spells, that's where the fire spell came from~

And yes. Isei DIED during this scene, his blood loss due to hemophilia (I know, ironic for a Sacrier) getting the best of him. Ability Shinuo shows here was one Eniripsas had back then in beta (maybe they still have something similar, but since I stopped playing years ago, I dunno) that allowed player to bring back to life themselves or teammates. Here I made it a bit less OP by limiting it only to others and adding heavy repercussions... First, usually it would cost healer's life, about which Shinuo was aware of, but still attempted it, but in his case thanks to him being blessed by the Goddess for his faith set in stone no matter what, it only took few years off his lifespan, of what no one really is aware of.

#whumptober2022 #no.8 #everything hurts and I'm dying #back from the dead #october #oc-tober #wakfu #eniripsa #whumptober #tw. main character death #isei #shinuo

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strangely-a-mcu-fan · 4 years

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I'll never be over Bruce still trying to stop Wanda from interrupting Vision's creation (with just his bare hands!!), even after she forced him to attack innocent people just a few hours ago.

#this man is a treasure that we don't recognize enough #bruce banner #hulk #aou #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #anti wanda maximoff #(just to be sure cause some people seem still unable to accept that this girl isn’t a precious innocent baby)

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

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come home with me - finn shelby x reader

a/n: you have @michaelgreys to thank for this one (& the gif!!! check her out she's amazing). s5 finn cause god damn!!1 i honestly dont have much to say about this one other than it's definitely self indulgent and not even god can help me at this point. i'm working on p4 to whiskey buisness rn as well as some requests, thank you for all the sweet comments!!

love, abi xxx

my masterlist

prompt: finn hates you so much he might want to fuck you.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, pretty fluffy cause he's baby 🥺

Working for the Shelby Company wasn’t difficult, except for one thing: Finn Shelby. You were one of the many secretaries, in charge of conveying messages, filing papers, and many other important things, such as making sure the glass decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in Tommy’s office was never empty. It wasn’t a very taxing job, but Finn went out of his way to get under your skin in every way he could. Maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t back down, having a quick retort to anything close to disrespectful that he said to you. The other brothers never said a thing to intervene, Arthur even telling you he was glad you had a backbone.

“Finn’s a cocky thing, eh? Too cocky for his own good. A girl like you’ll put ‘im in his place,” he had slurred, while you collected the letters he’d asked you to mail.

“Dunno, Mr. Shelby,” you’d mused. “Seems like he’s got some sort of problem with me.”

“Don’t even bother with that, he’s just an arrogant fuck. Probably got some sort of crush on you an’ is too shy to do shit about it. You know, first time he fucked a whore, he said sorry,” Arthur grunted. You’d chalked up his admissions to the half empty bottle of whiskey that he was clutching and the light dusting of snow on his right nostril. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if the looks Finn shot your way, though seemingly out of irritation, meant something more. You couldn’t lie, you’d thought about what it’d be like to feel the youngest Shelby brother’s bow-shaped lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. It couldn’t be true, you resolved; Arthur was just wasted and you were delusional.

Monday came, and Tommy had asked you to work in the betting shop for the next few weeks. “Make sure Finn’s not fucking up,” he had grunted, taking a long drag of his cigarette, clear blue eyes barely leaving the stacks of paper that littered his massive desk. Of course you’d agreed, but you were nervous. Something about it made your heart beat faster in your chest. You took a shot of whiskey before you left, hoping the dark liquor would help calm your nerves. Isaiah insisted on accompanying you, telling you there were too many people that didn’t like them around there and to make sure someone was always with you for the next few weeks. You were grateful for his presence, the jokes he cracked easing your mind as the two of you walked briskly along the cobblestone streets. It didn’t take long to get there, Isaiah holding the door open for you as the warm air inside the betting office washed over you. Finn turned to see who it was, a scowl tugging at the edges of his mouth once he saw you.

“Why the fuck is she here,” he drawled, sitting at his desk with his feet up, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked fucking good, hair neatly combed back, smelling of expensive cologne in a pressed navy blue suit. He was tall, legs stretching across the desk as he sent a glare in your direction, you rolling your eyes in response.

“Tommy said,” Isaiah interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “He said you said you needed more help, or somethin’.”

“Fuckin’ christ,” Finn mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the crystal ashtray that sat on his desk, standing to grab a stack of books from one of the shelves behind him.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the fucking plauge or something,” you retorted, Isaiah stifling his chuckle as he looked anywhere but at the two of you. Finn ignored you, instead setting the pile of books on his desk.

“Come look at this, before I change my mind,” he said, instead. You obliged, walking behind his desk to see what he was gesturing to as Isaiah excused himself, something about “gettin’ fucking plastered, mate!” Finn was easily a head taller than you, so he practically towered over you, engulfing you in a cloud of his intoxicating cologne as you stood so close to him that you could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.

“So, these are the bets, and those are the outcomes,” he explained, arm brushing against your body slightly as he pointed to the different columns written out in the log. To your chagrin, your skin prickled in response, your body unable to control itself. Yet, you pushed it down, not wanting to give Finn the satisfaction of knowing that you wanted him. God knows he’d hold it against you forever. What he was explaining was simple enough, and you were able to grasp it fairly quickly. He was all business, handing you the logs he needed you to double check, as you sank into the desk adjacent to his, pouring over the books and coming to him to confirm small corrections.

However, after a couple of drinks of whiskey (some of which you admittedly consumed), Finn started talking. Small things, like how irritating Tommy was or how much they’d made off a certain horse. He’d never opened up to you like this; it was always a snide remark that usually set off an argument, since the two of you were fairly hot-headed. This time, it was different. Finn was still looking at you, but with slightly rosy cheeks and a smile threatening to spread across his face every time you made a witty remark. This time, you liked the way he was looking at you.

***

Two thirds of a bottle later, you were both on the floor in front of the fire, laughing at something Finn had said. Admittedly, he had said it just to see you laugh. He liked when you laughed, he realized. It was much better than the irritated look on your face that he usually saw. In all honesty, it was probably his fault, he thought to himself. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he really wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. You sat next to him, shoulders brushing as the two of you talked, your jacket long abandoned, revealing the flimsy straps of the black lace dress. You looked so fucking pretty, he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right? Always wondered why you hung ‘round us lot, bunch of mean fuckers.” The words fell out of his mouth, hovering in the air between the two of you. You stared at him, slightly taken aback, but the liquor was doing the talking for both of you, it seemed.

“Look who’s fucking talking. Half the girls in Brum would gladly fuck you, even just for a night.”

Finn paused, lighting a cigarette and offering you a drag.“What about you?”

You accepted, taking a puff before passing it back. “What about me?”

He cracked a grin. “Would you fuck me?”

His bluntness took you aback, but you were too far gone to think properly. “Maybe,” you admitted, a coy smile playing at your lips. Finn’s eyes darkened, closing the distance between the two of you until his body was almost touching yours, the tension between you crackling like the fire just a few feet away.

“What about now?” he muttered, lips brushing ever so slightly against your neck, causing you to shiver. He noticed, his hands finding the curve of your hips, searing through your dress. You couldn’t help but tilt your neck back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips as Finn pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

“Finn,” you moaned quietly, the smile on his lips growing wider as his hands fiddled with the hem of your dress, fingertips sliding underneath to grip lightly at the soft skin of your thighs. “Fuckin’ do something already, christ.”

Finn grinned. “Always got a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? You’re lucky I find that attractive,” he teased. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, his fingers found your silk panties, pushing them to the side to rub lightly against your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. You were already wet, to Finn’s satisfaction, and he had no trouble pushing a finger inside of you. The moans that were leaving your mouth were sinful, and he savored each one, watching the way you squirmed when he added another, curling them inside of you.

“Look so goddamn pretty, stuffed full of my fingers,” he crooned, sending your eyes rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering.

“Finn, please,” you whined, his nimble fingers deftly unzipping your dress and sliding it off, leaving you in your black silk bra and panties. Finn paused, taking a second to drink you in before pressing his lips to yours. They were softer than you could have imagined, hands gripping at your waist as he tugged at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, melting at his touch like butter.

“Want you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his muscles to stiffen as he sprang into action, pulling you on top of him, lining his already hard cock up with you. He was big, and if you weren’t already so ready for him, you might have been a little nervous. He slowly pushed inside of you, helping you sink down on top of him with one hand as he swore under his breath, using his other hand to unhook your bra, throwing it to the side and exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples hardening at his touch.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Finn growled, unable to resist from taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. The sound you made in response was pathetic, but fuck if it wasn’t fueling his appetite for you. He couldn’t help but push up into you, a tight grip on your hipbones, holding you up as he rammed into you, cock pressing up against your g-spot, sending your vision spinning.

“Fuck, Finn, m’gonna cum,” you cried, eyes sqeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you. Finn grunted, somehow increasing his pace, pressing kisses to wherever he could.

“Go ahead darlin’, want you to cum all over my cock,” he cajoled, the words sending waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t help but follow his orders, colors flickering across your eyesight. The image of you cumming just for him sent Finn over the edge, groaning your name as he finished inside of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs. You looked so fucking angelic in the firelight, he had the sudden urge to take care of you.

“Y’alright?” He asked, reaching for a rag to clean you up. You nodded, smiling softly down at him as he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your hipbone. He looked up at you, eyes full of adoration.

“Come home with me?” Finn murmured, hands fidgeting.

“Yeah,” you replied, a glow tinging your cheeks as you looked at him the same. “Let’s go home.”

#finn shelby imagine #finn shelby smut #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders x reader #finn shelby x y/n

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 3 years

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Two Years and Counting

Pairings | Bucky Barnes x f!reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Warnings | swearing, dirty talk, smut, mm smut, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, oral (m and f receiving), slight degradation, kinda dub-con at one point but not really?, implied pregnancy, unprotected sex, sort of breeding kink I think,

Word count | 3.2k

Summary | Steve gets Bucky a present for their second wedding anniversary: you and a little something extra

A/n | so loads of people wanted more Stucky x reader...here you go

Masterlist

"So you want me to...sleep with you? Both of you?" You reiterated what Steve had just asked you, and the blonde man nodded.

"If you don't want to, please don't feel pressured to accept. It's just- we're very open, and Buck's been sayin' for a while how much he adores you." Steve admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "And I more than agree with him." Steve added quickly after, a smile spreading over his perfect lips.

So that's how you ended up here, your back pressed you Steve's chest, his lips at your ear and a cerulean-eyed super soldier lapping relentlessly at your core.

"That's it, Buck, right there. I want your face to be shiny with her cum by the time you've finished." Steve cooed, voice thick and heavy with lust as his teeth nipped playfully at your earlobe.

You couldn't take your eyes away from the sight between your legs; the brunet super soldier's head buried between your thighs as he relentlessly lapped at your clit. A sharp gasp accompanied your fluttering eyelids when Bucky placed a finger at your entrance, slowly pushing it inside you.

"You like his tongue, hm? Those fingers feel real good, don't they?" Steve purred at your ear again, breath hot on your skin as your head dropped back into his shoulder.

Your legs were pulled painfully wide over his knees, hips aching from the stretch as his firm arms looped around you: one at your waist and the other over your chest, pinning you to him with the ghost of a choke around your neck.

"Wait 'til you see what his cock can do, sweetheart. You won't be walking tomorrow by the time we're done with you." Steve smirked, but you were so far gone by this point the words barely graced your senses.

"Fuck!" You squealed, Bucky's teeth giving a little nip to your clit as your back arched away from Steve's chest. The man chuckled, bringing his tongue down and tracing your slit before pushing in.

With his tongue stroking your walls and his nose bumping up against your clit, it didn't take long for Bucky to make you cum. Steve's large hand still rested against your throat as you came down from your high, his plump lips pressing wet kisses behind your ear.

"You good, doll?" Bucky bummed, hands resting heavily on your thighs, rubbing up and down soothingly. You nodded, a dopey smile crossing your lips as you were brought back to reality. Bucky chuckled again, low and melodic as Steve's voice filled your ears.

"Maybe we should give the dame a break...get on the bed, Buck. I want you naked and on your back." You never would be thought Steve to be so controlling in the bedroom. Sure, he barked orders all day long but you'd always assumed that he'd want to let go for a while. That and you'd always thought Bucky gave you raging Dom vibes.

Bucky was quick to comply, kneeling up and pressing a quick peck to your cheek and then Steve's lips before he was scrambling over to the bed, tearing his clothes off on the way.

Steve helped you up, setting you down on the bed beside Bucky and pressing and lingering kiss to your forehead. He offered you a quick, small smile before his attention was on Bucky.

Steve's lips spread wider when he saw the bottle of lube in Bucky's hand, the blonde's own hand moving up to brush the hair out of his husband's face.

"You're such good boy for me, baby. Now let's get you nice and open, hm?" Steve cooed, leaning down for a kiss. You expected it to be sweet, and it was anything but that. The kiss was almost nasty, with tongues mingling and teeth clashing.

Steve grabbed the bottle of lube from Bucky when he pulled away, slowly kissing down the man's body. Bucky whined - like actually whined - as Steve took his time, taking a moment to let his tongue smooth over one of Bucky's nipples before moving on.

When he reached his cock - which you hadn't let yourself look at until now - Steve took the swollen and leaking tip in his mouth, suckling lightly and causing Bucky's hips to jerk up.

"Please, Stevie! Just - just fuck me already!" Bucky whined, hips wriggling as Steve tried to hold him still. A whimper bled through Bucky's lips when Steve's hand came down on his thing in a small slap.

"Don't tell me what to do. You'll take what I give you." Steve's voice was suddenly stern; it was his Captain America voice. Bucky whined, but settled down, his head tilted up as he watched his husband with hooded eyes.

Steve hummed to himself, leaving a trail of wet kisses down the length of Bucky's cock until he reached the base. It was then that he pulled away, nimble fingers flipping the cap off the lube and squirting a generous amount onto the fingers of his other hand.

"Relax for me, Buck." Steve mumbled, his free hand coaxing Bucky's thighs a little wider until he could clearly see the man's tight rim. You watched without blinking as Steve's pink tongue ran over his lips, his eyes solely focused on the sight between the older man's legs.

He circled Bucky's tight hole with the tips of his fingers, a smirk gracing his lips when an breathy moan slipped through Bucky's slightly parted lips.

"That's it." Steve was pushing a finger in then, slow and controlled and the digit worked itself passed the resisting muscle. "Good boy." Steve's voice was a low purr, wrist rolling to make Bucky moan as his fingertip glided over his prostate.

Bucky could already see stars, and he'd barley begun. You watched intently, feeling yourself get even wetter as you watched the way Steve played Bucky's body like an instrument he'd mastered over years of practice. And, in a way, Steve had.

Two years into their marriage and both boys knew each other inside out, the ways their body's worked and responded committed to memory. Your bottom lip found itself tucked between your teeth, hands pushing you up so you could get a better view.

Bucky's head was thrown back now, eyes disappearing into his skull and Steve rolled his wrist a little faster. The sight was heavenly, hair falling into his face and mouth parted as Bucky attempted not to squirm, his hands fisted so tightly into the sheets they looked as if they may rip.

"Do you want to try?" It was Steve's voice again, real soft and tempting as he peered up at you through thick lashed. You swallowed thickly, blinking away the sight of Bucky as you directed your gaze to the blonde.

"Huh?" Your voice was probably timid, arguably sheepish as the sound of question formed on your tongue.

"Would you like a go? At fingering him?" Steve repeated, a gently charming look in his blue eyes. You gulped, but ultimately nodded as the words in your mouth seemed to dry up. Steve offered a wide smile, slowly slipping his finger from Bucky - the resulting whimper making Steve chuckle - before moving to the side to give you some room.

"I- I don't know what I'm doing." You admitted as you placed yourself between Bucky's legs, hands on your thighs as your eyes slid over the sight before you. Steve breathed something of a laugh, leaning in close and picking up your right hand with his.

"I'll tell you how." Steve murmured near your ear, his other hand quick to pick up the bottle of lube again before squirting a good amount onto your fingers. "You need 'em nice and wet, it feels much nicer when they can slide right in." Steve explained, rubbing the substance around your skin to make sure they were saturated enough.

"Then what?" You breathed, unable to tear your eyes from the beautiful sight before you. Steve smiled, guiding your fingers to Bucky's little hole. Once the tip of your middle finger was lined up, Steve urged you to being pushing in. It met a bit of resistance, but the muscle quickly gave way again and your finger slid in fairly smoothly after that. Bucky moaned, long and loud.

"That feel good, huh? Does she feel good?" Steve cooed at Bucky, who could only seem to muster a nod as you begin to roll your wrist, just as Steve had. "That's it, take it real slow. You can build up the speed a little more in a moment." Steve mumbled beside you, eyes alight with lust.

"Can I- can I add another finger?" You tentatively asked, giving Steve a nervous glance.

"Yes, I think he's ready. Are you ready, Buck?" Steve replied, looking up at his husband.

"Yes! Feels s' good, so so good!" Bucky moaned, attempting to squirm but Steve placed a firm hand on his hip and tutted.

"Ask nicely." Steve chided, that hint of harshness back to his tone. You couldn't help but think that having sex with Steve would give you whiplash with how quickly his tone could change.

"Please can I have another finger? It feels real good!" Bucky stuttered out through breathy moans and whimpers. Steve smiled coyly, nodding to you when you gave him a look in question.

You let Steve squirt some more lube onto your index finger before pushing it in along side your middle one, a pang of arousal clenching your gut and the completely debauched sound that it pulled from the writhing super soldier.

"Good girl." Steve murmured near your ear, his eyes glued to your fingers slowly pumping in and out of Bucky's tight hole. "Why don't you give his pretty little cock a kiss, huh? It looks a little needy." Steve purred, eyes sliding over the swollen tip of Bucky's cock.

You nodded, wetting your lips with your tongue as you leant forwards. Buck's back arched so high you thought you could fit a goddamn pillow under there when your lips brushed the head of his cock, precum smearing over them.

"That's it. You gettin' close now, baby?" Steve cooed and Bucky whined. You let your tongue lap at his skin, Bucky's musk coating your tastebuds as you felt the warmth of him against you.

Steve hovered over you, his hand now palming at his own dick through his jeans as he watched you pleasuring his husband.

"Curl your fingers a little, doll. You'll know when you find the spot." So you did, and you definitely hit the 'spot'. Your fingers pressed into Bucky's prostate, pulling an dirty moan from the man as his back arched even higher and the sheets actually ripped in his hands.

"S-should I keep going?" You mumbled nervously, pulling away from Bucky's cock and looking up at steve through fanned lashes. He gave you a nod, but stopped you before your lips could meet the shaft of Bucky's dick in a wet kiss.

You pulled back again, pumping your fingers even faster when you saw Steve lower his own lips to Bucky's cock. They spread over the tip, saliva dripping from them as Steve spat onto Bucky's skin. The brunet groaned, loud, as Steve bobbed down, his nose brushing the patch of curls at the base.

He clearly did this a lot.

The other thing that surprised you, but sent a tingle of need up for spine nonetheless, was when Steve reached up Bucky's body, his fingers pinching the older man's nipple before rolling the bud between them.

The sight made you let out your own small moan, your hips unintentionally winding down against the covers as you felt yourself growing hotter again.

But a loud whine pulled you from your haze, Steve's warm hand over your wrist as he pulled your touch away from Bucky. You felt bad, the man was squirming under your heavy gazes; denied of his release.

"Ah, ah. We don't whine. Now get up; I'm itching to see you buried in our girl." You shivered, like visibly shivered, the words echoing about your mind. Our girl.

Bucky crawling across the bed pulled you out of your trance yet again, his hands of your waist to guide you so your back was flush against the now-sweaty sheets a delicious contrast of cool and warm.

"Good boy, now make me proud." Steve murmured into Bucky's ear, perfect teeth nipping at the man's lobe before Steve gave Bucky's ass a quick spank and pulled away. Bucky squeaked, but pulled his lip between his teeth anyway.

"Please, Bucky," you croaked, voice nothing but a breathy whine, "Wan' to feel you inside me." You were growing impatient now, witnessing the lovers' little interactions making you slick with want.

Bucky couldn't deny you that, the doe eyes you were flashing him making the man's cock ache with need. Wrapping a firm hand around his throbbing cock, Bucky glided the tip between you puffy folds, Steve chuckling as you bucked up at Bucky, hips jumping.

"Fuck, doll." Bucky growled as he sheathed himself inside you in one, slow thrust. You sucked him in, the walls of your cunt pulsating around his thickness as you groaned, hair sticking to your face as your toes curled and hands cling to Bucky's broad shoulders.

"Bucky!" You cried out, soon joined by the super soldier himself as he felt Steve's tip judge his tight opening.

"Ready, baby?" Steve cooed, almost mockingly. The strained nod Bucky gave him seemed to be enough for Steve, the super soldier the tip of his slick cock breaching the barrier of Bucky's stretched ass. A smirk widely spread in his pink lips at the sinfully loud moan he pulled from his husband's lips.

"S'tight. Always so fuckin' tight for me, doll." Steve purred against Bucky's skin as he pushed in, only stopping once he'd bottomed out. Bucky's eyes were wide now, a dirty moan spilling through his lips at the feeling of Steve's thick head massaging his prostate. Your own moans accompanied Bucky's, a filthy harmony of pleasure ringing through the sex-scented room.

Steve begun a punishing rhythm, one that Bucky was quick to match on his own, thighs smacking against yours. Your eyes were threatening to disappear into your skull and your back was beginning to arch, breaking away from the bed, but the thin sheen of sweat caused the covers to lift with you.

Bucky's balls were slapping lewdly against your ass, still wet from Steve's saliva. Steve grasped Bucky's hips to ground himself, his grasp on his husband so tight that all three of them only knew there'd be pretty purple bruises decorating his beautiful skin tomorrow.

Bucky grabbed for something to hold onto, his flesh hand pulling at your wrists until he managed to pin them over your head, the metal appendage cupping your flushed-hot cheek in a cooling grip. He smashed his lips against yours - messy and desperate as his tongue sought yours.

"You like that, huh? You like shoving your tongue down our girl's throat?" Steve rasped from behind, a smirk evident in his derisive tone. There it was again: our girl. The words truly made you tingle, but also made you hope that the name would be permanent. Our girl.

Bucky's moan was strained as he attempted to nod, his pace picking up even more as his lost release came back in sight.

"Filthy fuckin' boy. Look like such fuckin' whores when you kiss like that." Steve chided, hand grasping and palming the flesh of Bucky's ass. "Remember your manners, baby. Make her cum before you whore out and fill 'er up." Steve gritted, teeth nipping at Bucky's neck until it tingled with that glorious pleasure-pain.

Bucky nodded again, just as strained as the last time as his metal hand shakily reached down to rub circles over your clit.

"G-gonna cum!" You screamed, and Bucky smirked this time, a proud glance crossing his cerulean eyes. "'M gonna cum!" You cried, walls fluttering, spasming, clenching, clawing at Bucky's cock.

When it hit you properly it was white-hot pleasure, blooming in your core and spread throughout your body. You shook, bones vibrating as you felt your vision clouding with the intensity.

A harsh, rippling smack from Steve to Bucky's ass sending him over the edge with you, the brunet collapsing forward to cover your body with his as he emptied himself inside you.

Steve stilled his hips, heavy pants washing over them as he let out a dirty string of moans and grunts. He filled Bucky's ass perfectly, the sticky, white substance leaking around his cock before Steve carefully pulled out.

It was only in that moment that you realised it, the wince that escaped you when Bucky pulled out more from the feeling of his cum seeping from your hole that anything else.

"Wha- I'm not in anything." You suddenly gasped, eyes wide. Steve smirked after he ushered Bucky out the room, his large form bending over your and he cupped your face in his hands.

"That's the point sweetheart. Did you really think my gift would just be you? You're having our baby, doll." Steve grinned. You should be discussed by his words. He tricked you. But if anything, you were overjoyed. You'd discussed surrogacy before with the super soldiers, but had eventually ruled out the idea because you couldn't comprehend giving up your baby - even if it wasn't really yours in the first place.

"You mean-?" You couldn't find your words, the syllables scattered around the room as your mouth opened and closed a few times. Steve nodded, tears glistening across his eyes and most likely yours.

"You're going to be a mother, y/n. You're going to be ours." Steve mumbled, nose bumping yours as he leant in for a sweet kiss.

"What?" Bucky's voice drawled from the door, a little damp rag clutched in his hand as he returned - cleaned up.

"Shit." Steve muttered in a hiss as he pulled away, eyes flickering to yours before he stood up. "Buck, I can-" Steve began to explain but the completely overjoyed look on Bucky's face stopped him.

"We're having a baby?" Bucky mumbled, eyes widened with hope.

"Yes." Steve smiled, his arms open as Bucky crashed into them, head buried against Steve's chest.

"Thank you. I love you, so much." Bucky squealed, pulling away enough to connect his lips with Steve's before he was looking to you over his husband's shoulder. "And thank you, too, doll. Really. I can't wait to have you as ours."

Taglists

Steve Rogers One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @anakinsslag @marvelhoesworld @macylawz @zaphdekota @bval-1 @ihavemajordaddyissues @theoldermanswhore @addriaenne @thegirlwiththeimpala @turkish276 @lilpopizzle @ohmy-fandoms @harrysthiccthighss @partiesandblurrypolaroids @tenaciousperfectionunknown @prettysbliss @Chamorritaluv @white-wolf1940 @henrythickcavill @dpaccione @tenaciousperfectionunknown @loveyou5everr

Bucky Barnes One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @anakinsslag @macylawz @zaphdekota @ihavemajordaddyissues @theoldermanswhore @addriaenne @thegirlwiththeimpala @turkish276 @lilpopizzle @gooseyhouse @ohmy-fandoms @harrysthiccthighss @partiesandblurrypolaroids @prettysbliss @the-surviving-revolutionist @white-wolf1940 @dpaccione @tenaciousperfectionunknown @loveyou5everr

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writtenonreceipts · 2 years

Note

Prompt for feysand single parent au where feyre catches Rhys making weird face to make serene laugh🥺

Not my favorite update. Sorry. But I do already have the next part mostly written! Hooray!

warnings: none, fluff

Of What Can’t Be Explained

Feyre had never been more grateful for lunch breaks than she was that Wednesday. Truly the fact that she could put up a sign saying she was on break and wouldn't be back for two hours was a glorious feeling. Especially when she held a screaming one and a half year old in her arms.

"Oh baby girl," Feyre sighed. She bounced Seren on her hip as she paced around the shop.

All last night the baby had been crying, unable to get comfortable. It seemed that Seren had developed a bit of a cold and was now running a slight fever. Feyre hadn’t slept at all either. It was far too reminiscent of her pregnancy days. She’d been sick as a dog all nine months and it hadn’t helped matters when she kept expecting Tamlin to show up out of the blue. Last night seemed to have brought those memories up to the surface because she hadn’t left Seren’s room except to warm up a bottle or pace the apartment with the baby in arm.

Feyre should have just closed up the store for the day but a customer had placed an order for a hand painted pallet of Feyre’s design as well as some art supplies. She couldn’t turn down a sale. Just like she couldn’t put her daughter through this misery.

Seren whimpered loudly and nestled into Feyre’s neck.

“I know,” she murmured, “I know.”

Her heart clenched at the discomfort Seren must have been in. Feyre had already gotten Seren to take a small dosage of medicine, but it didn’t seem to be doing much. A part of her wondered if she should take Seren to the hospital, just to be sure it wasn’t anything serious, but hospitals had always filled Feyre with dread.

Ever since the first time she’d been in the ER with a broken rib--accident of course because how else could she have fallen down the stairs--Feyre had learned to avoid hospitals. And police officers.

Feyre knew things were different now. She knew that it was safe to seek out help. Well, as safe as it could be. Still, she didn’t want to risk someone finding her that she didn’t want to.

The door to the shop jingled open causing Feyre to bite back a curse. Hadn’t she locked the door?

“We’re closed for lunch,” Feyre said as she turned. She nearly faltered at the sight of Rhysand entering the shop. "Oh."

She was so shocked to see him that she almost didn't notice the woman who walked in behind him. Though, in all honesty she was staring pretty blatantly at the man with the raven black hair and neat slacks and button up. He was too damn attractive.

"Feyre," Rhys greeted with that same bright smile that always seemed to make her heart flip. "Sorry we're invading your lunch time."

"I'm Mor," the woman said quickly as she stepped forward. She was absurdly beautiful with her long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Eyes that sparked with interest as she looked Feyre over. "I placed an order--"

"Right, of course, " Feyre said quickly. She’d only recently started accepting online orders to attract more business. The distraction of the order was nice as she could now try to not let the image of Rhys with an attractive woman beside him bother her. "Let me just--"

Seren chose then to let out a wail as Feyre made to set her down. Her little cries were of pure agony at any prospect of being separated from her mother.

"Seren," Feyre soothed. She ran a hand through her daughter’s hair and in soothing circles over her back. "Seren, love."

Seren let out a garbled string of sobs. “No, no, n-n-n-no!”

Tears of her own pricked Feyres eyes. Not just of embarrassment over her daughter having a melt down and she could do nothing about it--but the fact that it was in front of Rhys of all people.

"Can I?" Rhys asked, taking a step forward.

Too exhausted to resist, Feyre let Rhys take Seren's wiggling sobbing body and tuck her against his side.

"Hey Seren," he murmured softly as he ran a hand soothingly over her back.

Seren began mumbling incoherently.

"You're not feeling good, hmm?" Rhys said and bounced Seren lightly.

Seren shook her head vehemently before she burrowed right into Rhysand’s side, effectively tucking herself there as though she belonged.

"He's always been good with women," Mor mused as she came to stand next to Feyre. She smiled amusedly.

Feyre couldn't take her eyes away from the sight of Rhysand holding her daughter gently, so kindly. Seren of course didn't calm down. Not immediately, but Rhys didn't seem to mind. Not as he began to pace the shop all while murmuring to Seren.

This was a strange image that she had to reconcile against what she’d always known about Rhysand. In High School he’d been the charming type, the cool and confident, the kind of person that Feyre hadn’t considered touching with a ten-foot pole. Coated in arrogance and dismissal, Rhysand Avitas would have been the last person she would want holding her daughter.

But now, at that moment--all Feyre could feel was ease and comfort knowing someone was being kind to her daughter. For the first time that day, Feyre was able to take a full breath. She still wasn't sure about leaving her screaming child with the mayor, her former enemy, but he had yet to complain.

"Really," Mor insisted, her smile far too kind for anything Feyre deserved. "Rhys loves kids, he takes care of his little sister all the time."

"Right," Feyre said, turning to Mor. "I have that order ready for you. You can just follow me to the back."

Set up near the back room was a line of shelves where Feyre organized orders and holds. Feyre pulled out the art supplies and handed it to Mor.

"How long have you been painting for?" She asked, always eager to strike up a conversation about art. She rarely had the time to take a moment and get to know her customers.

"Um, not even?" Mor laughed and shook her head. "I'm trying new things this year. My father disowned me so we are on a journey of self-discovery. "

The answer was so blunt and open that Feyre could only stare. Mor grinned.

“It’s been great,” Mor insisted, “Rhys is letting me crash at his place for a while. Just like old times, except his brothers are always there.”

“I didn’t know Rhys had brothers,” Feyre admitted with a laugh as she tried to imagine exact replicas of Rhys wandering around. And then because she had no self control, she added, “or a girlfriend?”

Mor sputtered a good-natured laugh. “Hell no. We’re cousins. But that won’t stop me from threatening to murder him on occasion.”

The look on Mor’s face was enough to make Feyre laugh--though she did feel a little foolish about her question. What business of hers if Rhys had a girlfriend? And why should she care?

“Yeah, Rhys and I grew up separately for a while. But, he’s always had Cassian and Azriel by his side. They’re more or less brothers at this point honestly,” Mor said. She brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. “They grew up together and everything, though Cassian was sent to military school when he was fifteen. He and Benham never quite got along.”

Feyre had never heard anything about this. Even if she’d never talked to Rhysand before, in high school he had been the topic of every conversation. She’d heard about him breaking into Helion Cleaver’s boathouse. She’d known the kind of sports player he was, who he was dating. But she’d never known he’d had brothers, a cousin, this complete other side to him.

“Anyway, sorry,” Mor continued, “I figured you’d have known. Rhys has talked about you quite a bit.”

“What?” Feyre sputtered a laugh. “Why would he talk about me?”

Mor gave her an amused look. “I dunno, I guess he just values your friendship.”

Friendship. Friends. With Rhysand Avitas. The thought was surprising, it had only been a few weeks, hardly even two months of the occasional visit or conversation. But Feyre couldn’t bring herself to deny it.

“I guess we are friends,” Feyre consented. “I’d never realized it before.”

The two women headed to the main part of the store to find Rhys seated on the floor with Seren. She had her favorite ball in hand and was waving it around while she…laughed. Feyre watched as she tossed the ball awkwardly to Rhys who made a dramatic show of catching it and pulling a funny face as he did so.

Clapping her hands, Seren giggled as Rhys rolled the ball back toward her and the process began again. Apparently all it had taken was a moment away from her mother and her favorite ball and the girl was happy as ever.

“Ball!” Seren cheered. “Again!”

Rhys rolled the little blue ball towards her that she immediately snatched up and tossed wildly. Making a lunge to the side, Rhys managed to catch the ball before it hit the floor.

Seren laughed. When she noticed Feyre had returned, her blue eyes lit up. “Mama! Mama, Rhys has the ball.”

“I see that, you are throwing so well!” Feyre said. She'd been in such a grumpy miserable mood the entire morning that this brief respite of peace was a bit shocking, but Feyre would take it.

Rhys rolled the ball back to Seren and she grabbed it up before running over to Feyre. The girl promptly wrapped her arms around Feyre’s legs and refused to let go.

"Mama! Up!"

"Oh child of mine," Feyre mused. Her arms were full with the piece that Mor had ordered, but Seren of course paid that no mind.

"Here," Rhys stood and immediately came to claim the canvas in Feyre’s arms.

She smiled gratefully and scooped her daughter up. Seren wasted no time in whacking Feyre upside the head with her ball. On accident of course.

"You will be the death of me," Feyre said, ticking Serens side. The baby giggled and nestled into the crook of Feyres neck. She smiled softly and crossed to the register. "Alright Mor, let's get you settled."

"You have no idea how excited I am about this," Mor said as she handed Feyre her card, “I’ve been wanting to start a new hobby for ages.”

“If you ever need help or tips, I’m more than willing to help you out,” Feyre said.

Mor grinned. “I will certainly take you up on that.” She took her new items in hand and nodded to the door. "I'm going to take these out to my car.”

"How have you been, Feyre?" Rhys asked her once Mor was gone.

"Aside from being up all night with a sick baby?" Feyre mused. "Alright. And you? I hear the elections are coming up. You're running to keep office again aren't you?"

"Yeah," Rhys agreed. "It's been hectic lately. My father is also on the election roster for police commissioner and it's been bringing us a bit of attention."

He did not appear pleased about that. The look passed just as soon as it came though.

"My brother is coming into town soon though,” he said, a smile replacing the displeasure she’d thought she’d seen. “It’s been a few months since he’s been by.”

Rhys’ eyes wandered to the broken ceiling fan leaning against the wall. “Did you…” he gestured to the light fixture “--did you need help with anything or?”

“Actually,” Feyre let out a sheepish laugh, “yes. Lucien is going to be gone for work, he's my go to help when he's home. If it's not too much trouble?”

“Absolutely,” Rhys said. “We can come by this weekend?”

“Yeah,” Feyre said, “that would be great. I’m planning on being closed this weekend anyways.”

“We’ll come by on Saturday,” Rhys determined. He grabbed the pallet that Mor had left behind and smiled that stupidly charming smile of his. “I can text you to confirm?”

Feyre much to her own embarrassment and self-loathing, nearly forgot she had a cellphone. “Yes. Text. Right.”

They exchanged numbers and Rhys left just after that.

Feyre couldn’t help the small smile she wore the rest of the day and decided that Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

...

as always, thanks for reading friends!

tags--bolded won't link, let me know if you'd like be be added/removed

@aelinchocolatelover // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals-writes // @emikadreams // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @highladysith // @fangirlprincess09 // @rowaelinismyotp // @vanzetanze // @jlinez // @cassianscool // @stardelia // @my-fan-side // @sjmships // @tillyrubes10 // @acourtofsjmtrash // @hellasblessed // @rhysandswhore // @story-scribbler // @post-it-notes33 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @strangevil321 // @whythefuckdoiexist // @pastasiren // @beanco8 // @lemonade-coolattas @foreverfallingforthestars // @themoonthestarsthesuriel// @feysand-loml // @scribbled-semantics // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @swankii-art-teacher // @foughtconquered // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame // @tanvee1231 // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @thenightgodess-feyrearcheron // @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee //

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #modern au #single parent au #an intimate display #fic #update

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Secrets Kept

Based on this request: “thomas x reader and one of the other people are being rude and they slap her and they get all worked up and mad? (maybe the person is making fun of her because she got attacked by a griever (she’s a runner) and minho had to help, but minho also stands up for her)”

masterlist

You’ve been running in the Maze for maybe an hour, maybe more. It’s not long enough. It’s funny how every morning, you wake up and manage to convince yourself that being a Runner is easier than you think, that you’ll be able to keep moving endlessly and never have a problem with it. You seem to forget how hard your job is overnight, but you’re reminded of it every single morning. To be honest, you’re not sure what you expected when you signed up to be a Runner in the first place, but the constant exhaustion is just one of the side effects.

That being said, you wouldn’t trade this job for anything. A slight grin appears on your face as you look around you, tilting your head up to feel the breeze whipping around the corners of the Maze. Your mind is turning, thinking of ways to remember every hall and corridor that you cross. Beside you, your running partner turns to you, eyebrows raised over your apparent delight. This causes Minho’s attention to be focused solely on you, which is why he doesn’t notice your boyfriend, Thomas, appearing down a nearby corridor.

Your eyes widen imperceptibly. Thomas isn’t supposed to be here, not at all. You joined the ranks of the Runners a long time ago, way before Thomas even showed up here and wanted to risk his neck with the rest of you. That meant that he would be a part of a different pair of runners, one that wasn’t you and Minho, and that he would be assigned a completely different part of the Maze to run for today. Ever since the Gladers discovered that different sectors of the Maze opened at different times, they carefully divided each sector into runnable routes that were parceled out to the various pairs of Runners. Basically, all of this means that you shouldn’t once see Thomas during the entirety of your daily run, yet here he is now.

You think you know why he’s here, though. Your theory is proven when Thomas stumbles to a halt mid-step after realizing that Minho is seconds away from discovering you, and quickly stumbles behind a wall of the Maze for cover. When he peeks out again, he’s got a smirk on his face that tells you that the added danger of getting caught is only making him more willing to risk discovery.

Why is he here, then? Well, it’s probably because you’re dating Thomas, or at least you have in secret. Once you showed up to the Glade and became the first girl to add to their numbers, Alby set in motion a rule that none of the boys could even come near you. They could be friends all they wanted, but the second they looked at you with a desire for something more, they’d be thrown in the Slammer before they could say ‘I escaped the friend zone’.

You’ve been perfectly fine with this rule. There are enough gaping boys in the Glade that make you more than alright that Alby gives any flirting slintheads a death glare. However, when Thomas showed up, you just couldn’t stick to the plan. He was kind to you, and it seemed like he was the first one to truly listen to you for a very long time. When you spoke about anything, when you even so much as sat next to him, Thomas would look at you with this soft smile that made you want to reach over and kiss him right then and there.

You’d been afraid to do something, at first. What if you misread something and suddenly it was you crossing his boundaries as opposed to any one of the Gladers with you? Then, one night at the Bonfire, Thomas had been walking you back to the Homestead when he’d turned to you with this look in your eyes, one that made you shiver slightly despite the heat of the dark hour. He’d asked if he could kiss you, voice low and rumbling in the shadows, and you’d barely been able to nod your head yes from the thrill of it.

Ever since then, you’ve been happy enough to consider him your boyfriend. The problem is that Thomas still technically isn’t supposed to be seeing you, and the only way you can kiss him is if the two of you sneak out to the Deadheads or find time when nobody is around to reach over and wrap your arms around him. These come with an unsurprising rarity, as the Glade is practically overrun with shanks with little to no concept of personal space and privacy, so you have to make do with what you have.

This means that on days like today, when Thomas had been held back from seeing you even into the late hours of the night, he’s willing to stretch some rules and come find you himself. So, you turn to a still unsuspecting Minho, and gesture for him to go forward without you. “Tell you what, I’m going to fix my shoe. I think there’s something in it.” Minho starts to say something about how he’ll wait for you, but you hurriedly wave his concerns away. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

Minho hesitates one last moment then shrugs, turning to keep running. You watch him go, afraid to make the slightest of motions towards the general area behind you where you spotted Thomas, lest your running partner suspect something and come back to you. Minho’s just disappeared around a corner when a pair of hands descend on your hips, spinning around to come face to face with Thomas, who’s wearing a particularly proud grin at the look of surprise on your face.

You reach forward to smack his arm. “Slinthead. I thought a Griever was sneaking up behind me.” Thomas just laughs. “I don’t think Grievers look this good.” You try to hold back a laugh of your own. “Good to know that your pride hasn’t been hurt by you bending the rules all the time. We could get caught, you know.” Thomas just lifts a shoulder in dismissal. “I’m dating the prettiest girl in the Glade. I’d say that’s worth going behind Alby’s back.”

You fight to keep heat from rising to your cheeks. “The prettiest girl in the Glade? Thomas, I’m the only girl in the Glade.” Thomas smirks. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Just accept the compliment, Y/N.” You open your mouth to protest, but you’re effectively silenced when Thomas leans forward to kiss you. Suddenly, all of your complaints are evaporating into the hot air of the Maze.

You allow yourself a few minutes of this before you reluctantly bid Thomas farewell. Despite being able to throw Minho off your tail for a little while, you can only ‘fix your shoe’ for so long before the boy starts to suspect something. When Thomas finally lets you go with a goodbye kiss and you jog down the labyrinthine corridors in search of your running partner, you do so with a smile. How’d you get this lucky?

You find Minho after a little while, who offers up a few joking criticisms about how long it takes you to tie your shoes. You bear these with a smile, knowing that your real reason for being late is something that far outweighs any of Minho’s sarcastic comments. The two of you run for a little longer before heading further into the center of the Maze. It is only there, once you’re as far away from the Glade as you could possibly be, that you realize that something is wrong. It feels as if you’re suddenly not alone, that you and Minho aren’t the only ones lurking in these corridors.

Seconds later, something heavy comes to an abrupt stop in front of you. You and Minho rear back in identical shock, staring at the Griever, the one that’s just jumped down from the walls of the Maze to land a few feet ahead of you. You gaze at it unthinkingly, unable to move a muscle despite all of your body screaming for you to run. “How is it here? I thought Grievers weren’t supposed to come out during the day!”

Minho gulps beside you. “They’re not, but this one’s here anyway. Run!” That’s all the incentive you need for your legs to start working again, and the two of you turn and sprint in unison. Your feet are pounding down the ground, your body focused on the sole goal of surviving. You thought you were tired before, but all of that exhaustion is gone now, replaced by an intense adrenaline rush that leaves you feeling as if you’ve got all the energy in the world.

You race around corners and down straightaways, your breath coming hard in your chest. Despite the fact that you’re running as fast as you can, you almost get the feeling that the Griever is toying with you, not going after you with as much force as it could truly muster. Indeed, once you’re almost to the final corridors separating you and the Glade, it seems to draw back, disappearing into the halls of the Maze once more.

You turn to Minho, gasping for breath after your abrupt sprint. “What was that about? Why did it stop?” Minho shrugs, hands on his knees for any kind of support. “I don’t know. Maybe it wanted to stop us from going too far. Maybe we were going to see something that it didn’t want us to see. All I know is that I’m pretty shucking happy that we’re still alive.” You manage to limp over to him, slapping him on the back. “You can say that again. Let’s go tell Alby that we’re the two unluckiest shanks in the Glade to stumble upon a Griever in the middle of the day.”

Alby is, unsurprisingly, stunned by this news. This contradicts everything you’ve thought of the Grievers and the Maze before today. No matter how strange your living situation in the Maze is, the rules have never changed- Grievers come out during the night, and the night only. No one has any idea what to think now that this has changed, and to be honest, no one really wants to think about what happened. In the end, Alby decides that there’s nothing you can do about it except tell everybody to be careful.

As a result of this, you see a lot of somber faces around the Glade that afternoon. Everyone’s clustered into tight groups, talking in hushed voices about obviously critical topics that no doubt revolve around your little Griever incident. When Thomas comes back from his run in the Maze, you see his face fall in an instant when he hears what happened. He starts to come your way, expression twisted with concern, but you shake your head once. Technically, you’re not supposed to know Thomas that well at all. Let Newt handle him- despite everything, you still can’t blow your cover and reveal to everyone that you’re dating.

Still, the anxious mood persists around the Gladers. Gally eventually gives in and asks Alby for a Bonfire Night, which the older boy approves. This is basically just an excuse to light things on fire and pass around Gally’s suspicious brew, but everyone’s so keyed up over what just happened that Alby decides everyone needs a night to have fun. Once the glasses of amber liquid start getting passed around, though, you begin to think that it might not have been such a good idea after all.

Once fear mixes with Gally’s concoction, people start getting louder, their friendly punches in the fighting ring less charming and more antagonistic. You decide to leave early, already tired of the signs pointing to the fact that this night will not be going well. However, you’re barely taken a few steps away from your seat before one of the more drunk Builders stops you in your tracks.

“Where are you going, Y/N? Running away again?” You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” The Builder scoffs. “We all know what happened with the Griever. You saw it and ran away. Big bunch of nothing for someone who’s supposed to be one of the bravest Runners we’ve got.” You fold your arms over your chest incredulously. “Then feel free to take my job. I’m sure all of your experience stacking bricks will help you deal with a monster as tall as a house.”

The Builder’s smug smile drops. “Are you calling me a coward?” You snort. “I’m calling you weak. Get out of my way, I don’t want to deal with you tonight.” You move to walk past him, but the Builder just shifts to block your way again. “Like shuck. You don’t get to call me weak.” You stare back at him, feeling anger starting to rise up in your chest. “And you don’t get to call me a coward. You wouldn’t know bravery if it hit you over the head.”

This is probably a bad idea, you know that. This thought is proven correct when the Builder’s hand moves in a blur across your field of vision, and seconds later, your hand is coming away from your nose. There’s a streak of red across your fingers that tells you that he’s hit you hard, harder than he should have for what was supposed to be a friendly bonfire night.

Already, there are outraged shouts coming from around you, Gladers already starting to come to your defense. The loudest one, though, is from the boy who’s already by your side. Somehow, you’re not surprised that Thomas is already here. He probably would have punched the guy already, were it not for the fact that Minho and Newt both are holding him back. “Don’t you dare hit her. Don’t you dare.”

The Builder chuckles, although you can tell that he’s afraid. “What are you going to do? Hit me? We’ll just be together in the Slammer.” Thomas stops fighting against Minho and Newt, fixing the Builder with a death glare that makes the boy flinch. “You wish. Were it not for the fact that I actually give a damn about what’s supposed to happen around here, you’d be on the ground, trust me.”

The Builder raises an eyebrow, trying to add to his tough-guy demeanor in the hopes that it’ll cover up for the fact that he’s slowly trying to back away. “What do you care about what I do? This doesn’t concern you.” Thomas takes a step forward, and the Builder practically shrinks back. “Actually, it does. Y/N’s braver than you could ever dream of being. Do you know what it’s like to come face to face with a Griever? The fact that she’s not dead should tell you something about how tough she is. And yes, this does concern me, because she’s my girlfriend.”

Silence falls around the Bonfire at Thomas’ words. He glances over at you now, realizing what he’s said. “Surprise.” You laugh in spite of yourself. “Well, it was going to come out eventually.” You reach over, slinging your arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s let Alby deal with this slinthead. We’ve got better things to do.” Thomas allows himself a grin, moving away with you. “That we do.”

maze runner tag list: secret bestie @underc0vercryptid, @ellobruv

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

Clementia

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You’d always had a special place in your heart for Lee Minho even though he gives you countless reasons to hate him. How long will your patience last?

Warning: alcohol, sexual assault

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Minho

“Y/N—”

“Go away, Minho.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“I said no!”

“Well I said I’m sorry.”

You snap around to face him. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Lee Minho. You screwed up. You. Screwed. Up. I gave you one request, and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I had my reasons!” he protests.

“Yeah? Well let’s hear them.”

He emits a few noises but can't come up with anything. His face flushes red, but not as red as yours.

“There’s no excuse for breaking someone’s heart ever. Remember that.” You turn on your heels and begin walking away until he says something even more repulsive.

“Why do you care so much? She’s not even your real sister!” he calls after you.

You pause, unable to comprehend how such words could ever enter your ears. You then slowly walk back to him as he stiffens with every step you take.

“Not my real sister?” Your voice is soft, but it is effective.

“I mean—”

“You’re saying the girls at Epsilon Phi aren’t sisters?” Your voice begins to rise. “We’re more sisters than you and I were ever friends, Lee Minho! We love each other more than biological families do, but of course you wouldn’t know how that feels, would you? All you have in your chest is a cold, hard piece of coal!”

You turn away and break off into a run this time. Tears stream down your face from being insulted and betrayed by someone you held with high esteem.

You like Lee Minho. Of course, you’d never admit that. To the world, he is just some kid of your mom’s friend who annoyed you to no end, but through the arguments and time spent trying to prove each other wrong, your feelings grew bit by bit. When he had a relationship with your very own Little, you held in your feelings and wished them both the best. After all, you love both of them, and their happiness together was good enough for you.

That is, until Minho broke things off as nothing but a fling.

Minho has always been a huge flirt, but he’d promised to take her seriously this time. You made him swear it, and you emphasized how much your Little meant to you. Now, because you’re his family friend, your Little won’t even speak to you. Minho had ruined your and her relationship, and evidently yours and his too.

He didn’t used to be like this, all manipulative and amorous. You remember he used to follow you at the heel, caring about nothing more than sticking gum in your hair. It wasn’t until senior year of high school did he start hanging out with random girls and trying daredevilish things. You missed the old Minho, but you thought you’d accept him for all his changes since you did, after all, like him.

Until this moment, that is.

What he did was too much. What he said was too much. You know he is becoming toxic, and if he is going to continue down this path, even your love isn’t going to bring him back to your heart.

Minho watches your waning back then slams his fist against a nearby tree with a curse. You didn’t give him enough time to explain, not that he would have been able to in front of you.

You’d forgive him though, right? You have to. When he messed up before this, Minho could be sure you would. But now, he isn’t so certain. He has never seen you so angry and disappointed before, and he did that to you. Him. Minho lets out another string of curses and trudges back to his room.

He tries making it up to you the very next morning. He shows up to your 8 AM class with a cup of coffee and slides it onto your desk before sitting down himself.

You don’t even look at him. You just take the cup and slam it down in front of him, causing its contents to spill and burn your fingers. He quickly takes your hand in his and begins wiping it with his sleeve, but you recoil your arm and take out your own napkin.

The next place he tries is at your neighboring frat party. He knows you would be there, so he wears his tightest black jeans and a loose button-up. This trick has worked with other girls, so he hopes it would on you.

He takes the dance floor with his powerful dance moves and charisma. He can see you deliberately turned away from him and chatting with someone else, so he dances towards you. The cheering circle that has formed around him moves as well, engulfing you into the crowd.

You finally turn to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. Minho takes this chance to shoot you a wink which draws the crowd’s attention to you. They cheer and push you towards him despite your protests.

Minho takes your arm and leads you in the dance. You used to like dancing with him; your and his flow matches perfectly, and the two of you could revive a dying party just by dancing together. Today though, you just aren’t having it.

Minho puts a hand on your shoulder and scoops his hips low earning a cheer from the crowd. You can hear them calling your name, anticipating your response. You look down at Minho and immediately recognize his choice of clothing.

I wonder who’s going to have her heart broken tomorrow, you think with a dry laugh. Minho flinches, recognizing that sound. You take his falter as a chance to fling his arm off of you before walking away.

A chorus of oohs fills the room, and the crowd splits like the Red Sea for you.

You hear your name from his lips again. “Y/N!” It is more strained now than it was last night. Desperate. Defeated.

You gave him some thought after hearing the sincerity in his tone, but you are glad you did not turn around that night when you see him in class with some other girl on his lap. Whatever. He’s dead to you now, so why should you care what he’s doing?

Minho watches as you walk farther and farther from him. He pushes the girl off and continues to stare with narrowed eyes at you as you greet your new seat neighbors.

This isn’t how he predicted you would react. Truthfully, he kind of knew this attempt wouldn’t work. For one, it hadn’t worked once since he first tried it in high school. He thought hanging out with other girls would make him more attractive, more desirable by competition. At least, that’s what some then-college kids told him. Once he started, he just found himself unable to stop. It was a self-feeding cycle, really. Holding onto other girls and charming them numbs the void in his chest, but you ignore him whenever he acts like this which only further widens the gap.

What is he to do though? This is the only life he knows, and so, it is the life he leads. Not all love stories can end happily.

And his sure doesn’t seem like it is going to.

Sirens wail in the background. With the amount of girls he’s fooled around with, he kind of had it coming. Minho stares at his wrists, not daring to think, but one thought keeps recurring in his mind: you. He is going to disappoint you yet again. You already hate him, and now you are going to see him handcuffed too.

The cold wind makes him shiver when you, his emergency contact, open the door and step into the station. Your eyes immediately find him, and you make your way over.

“Y/—”

“Are you hurt?” you ask plainly.

Despite your icy tone, those three simple words fill him with a warmth he hasn’t known for a long time.

“I’m okay.” His hands reach forward, wanting to grab yours and keep you with him, but you’ve already walked away to announce your arrival to an officer.

“Miss L/Y Y/N?” a young official greets a little too enthusiastically. She looks familiar, you note.

“Yes, I am she.”

The officer looks pleased by your annoyed attitude towards the defendant. “Mister Lee is here tonight because of an accusation by Miss Choi of assault,” she informs you coyly.

You look at him. “Minho,” you said with a chilled voice. “Is it true?”

“No! Y/N, I wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Excuse me?” the officer sputters.

“I believe him,” you repeat. “He’s been going out with more people than I have fingers, but he never laid a finger on them.”

“But Y/N, that doesn’t mean he can’t start now,” the officer protests. “You’re his contact, but you hate him now. Surely, he’s changed”

“First of all, it’s Miss L/N to you, Officer” —you read her name tag and pieces begin to fall together from her eagerness to convict Minho to the inkling you felt the moment you saw her— “Yoo. And secondly, is it not against the law for you to be working on a case where your cousin’s the accuser?”

“How did you—!”

“Nothing escapes us Epsilon Phi sisters, even news from other sororities. Besides, Minho never plays with the same girl twice. As expected, this report is filed for an incident two months ago. You, Officer Yoo, knew I was his contact and waited for us to get into yet another fight before having your cousin put in the accusation, didn’t you?”

She scoffs in your face. “That’s a bold accusation from yourself towards law enforcement.”

“Where is the accuser right now? Shouldn’t she be here for interrogation as well?”

“Well she—” the officer looks increasingly flustered. “She needs rest after having to relive the memories of what happened. We’ll call her in tomorrow. Anyway, Mr. Lee Minho, I can hear your testimony now in room #3.”

Minho stands obediently.

“Wait. I request someone else interrogate him,” you object.

“We’re busy right now,” Officer Yoo huffs. “We can’t just let you choose who does the job.”

You cross your arms. “Sure. Interrogate him and have the entire case be nulled after I file a conflict of interest.”

Officer Yoo grits her teeth but returns to her station to call for another officer.

In the meantime, you turn to Minho. “Don’t answer anything you don’t want to, especially if they start leading you on with questions. It’s in your rights to remain silent, alright?”

Minho nods numbly at your words, still confused as to why you are so nice to him. Before he can figure it out though, an older man appears from the back and takes him to an interrogation room.

“Mr. Lee Minho?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chief Jeon. I’m just going to ask you a few questions today; is that alright?”

“Yes.”

The chief nods and pulls out some papers. “Would you mind describing what happened with Miss Choi?”

“Well I was with—” he gestures towards the papers with his accuser’s name on it— “and we were hitting it off. She bought me a couple of drinks and at some point leaned in to kiss me. I realized something at that point, and I stopped her. She got angry, saying how she spent all that cash on alcohol for me, and threatened to accuse me of assault if I didn’t do what she said, but I knew I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of what you realized?” the chief repeats.

“... Yes.”

“And what was it you realized?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“According to the law, no, but if it can help you with your case, you might want to.”

Minho fidgets with his cuffs. “They can’t hear me from outside, right?”

“No. They most certainly cannot.”

And so, Minho tells him.

Minho turns around while the metal bars clang shut behind him. The chief thinks he has a pretty good chance, but due to the gravity of the accusation, they still decided to keep Minho in holding to give the accuser more time to make her case.

You stare at him from the other side, arms crossed. Minho takes the fact that you’re still here at two in the morning as a good sign for him.

“Thanks for being here,” he tries to start a conversation.

“I didn’t really have a choice.” So cold.

“I’ll change my emergency contact.”

“Please do.”

He winces. “Look… Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for insulting your sisterhood and for hurting your Little. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

He looks at you with those doe-like eyes of his. For once, you don’t feel anything while looking back at them.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. In fact, I’m not even mad,” you tell him. “My Little told me what really happened. She told me that she was actually the one who dumped you after you adamantly refused to kiss her. I asked some other girls you’ve seen and they all said the same thing. That’s why I was so confident with the officer earlier. I guess I owe you an apology for getting angry when you weren’t at fault.”

“Then”—he holds out a hand sheepishly— “truce?”

You look at it but keep your arms crossed. “Taking a step back from you has made me see things I wasn’t able to before, Minho, and that’s made me realize how much you’ve changed. You were my friend, my rival— someone who never failed to get on my nerves but also someone I couldn’t go without. But now” —you drop your arms and shake your head— “I can’t even recognize you anymore.”

You take a step back to leave. You’ve done this many times before, like when he stuck a plastic spider down your shirt or when he called you stupid in front of your crush in fifth grade, but something about this time feels different. Something about this time tells him you aren’t turning back around once you left.

A sudden despair grips Minho and he runs into the bars. “Wait!”

You pause, offering him one last second.

“Your Little,” he gasps, “did she tell you why I wouldn’t kiss her?”

You nod. “The others I asked did too. They said you were thinking about some other girl while you were with them.”

“Not ‘some other’ girl. One other girl.”

“I know.” You begin to walk again.

“Then why are you leaving?” He reaches a hand out, trying to grab any part of you. “Stay with me. Please, Y/N, stay.”

You don’t pause a second time. Out of desperation, he cries out, “Y/N, I love you!”

That makes you stop midstep. He holds his breath as you put one foot back then the other next to it to face him. You are so beautiful when you look at him. He melts under your gaze as you focus on him and only him. He’ll cherish you this time when you give him another chance. He’ll quit this playboy lifestyle. He won’t take advantage of your patience anymore. He’ll give you all that his heart has to offer. He’ll make sure you’re the only one in his eyes. He’ll love you. He loves you.

“Minho.” You relax your shoulders and straighten your back. You tilt your head just slightly forward and erase the edge off your tone. “I loved you.”

#lee minho #lee know #stray kids #stray kids fic #minho fic #lee know fic #stray kids imagine #lee know imagine #minho imagine #stray kids angst #lee know angst #skz #enemies to lovers #fem reader #2nd anniversary special #20210815

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

teenage dirtbag [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: Wanda's boyfriend continues to be an aggravation in your life, causing some distance between you and Wanda

warning/s: none

author's note: i really appreciate the feedback you guys gave in the last part – it’s always motivating to read your reactions/comments 🥰

Sorting things out with Wanda made everything return to normal in no time. So much in fact that she decided I was worth inviting to her and her brother's birthday party.

Never in a million years did I expect the most popular girl in our grade to know who I was, let alone invite me to her birthday party, so to say I was surprised was an understatement.

"It's not a big deal if you can't make it," she said when she handed me the invitation in class. "I mean, I'd love it if you could, but yeah, no pressure."

I was in awe, accepting the invite and reading it quickly. It must have been a pretty expensive party if she was giving out special invites, that's for sure.

"You want me to come?" I asked, still unsure whether this was a joke or not.

"Only if you want to," she said quickly, eyes darting around the room and anywhere but at me. "Like I said, you don't have to. It's not a big deal and– I– yeah." She pressed her lips together and stopped rambling, offering me a small smile.

"Thanks," I said quietly, slotting the invite in my notebook. "I'll, er, I'll think about it."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and faced forward, nodding. "Yeah, sure, no rush."

After that awkward conversation, I discovered she'd also invited Y/BF/N, the two of them developing a little friendship the more she'd hung out with me. He didn't mind going, but only wanted to do so if I went.

"I feel like I kinda don't wanna go," I admitted to him after school as we were studying in the library.

"Oh?" He rose an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

I played with the pencil in my hand. "I don't know, it's just– it's gonna be full of all of her other friends. And they don't really like me. Plus, her dick of a boyfriend is gonna be there. I just think she might have invited me to be nice. Like she might have felt like she had to because we sit together, y'know?"

"I think you know that isn't true," he said knowingly. "Maybe, just maybe, she actually wants us there, wants you there, to celebrate her birthday."

I chewed the inside of my mouth, giving it some thought. But the idea of going to Wanda's house party and seeing a bunch of people I didn't care about getting pissed wasn't comforting. Besides, even if I went, I'd probably see Wanda once before she'd get scooped away by Nate. What was the point?

"Nah, I don't think I'm going," I decided. "She won't notice. I'll just get her a present instead."

Y/BF/N sighed, clearly not impressed with my answer. Nonetheless, he said, "Okay, suit yourself."

"You can go if you want," I added, knowing his presence wasn't linked with mine.

"No Y/N, no party," he said with a dismissive shrug, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Such a good friend," I said teasingly, but there was truth to my words. And I knew he knew that.

When I saw photos and videos of Wanda and Pietro's party all over my social media the day after, I knew I'd made the right choice in not going. It was the same visuals of everyone getting drunk, doing stupid shit and making a mess. Call me a loser, but that wasn't really my scene. Pietro and Wanda both seemed to enjoy it though, judging from the pictures.

Instead, I bought her a birthday present, knowing I didn't have to but I kind of wanted to, and planned to give it to her when she turned up to class. It was her birthday today, despite throwing the party over the weekend, so I hoped it would make up for my absence (thought I doubted she noticed).

She showed up and settled beside me as I was writing the date in my notebook, making me look up to see she'd made an extra effort to dress up for her birthday, looking fancier than usual. I couldn't help but smile at the giant '18' birthday badge pinned to her jacket.

"Happy birthday, Wanda," was the first thing I said when I saw her. "You look amazing."

A bashful smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I hope your party went well," I said, giving her my full attention whilst trying not to drool over how beautiful she looked.

Surprisingly, her smile faded and her eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it did... could you not make it? I tried looking for you and– yeah..."

I opened my mouth to speak, admittedly a little embarrassed that she'd caught me out. I was sure she wouldn't notice – the pictures made it seem like there were loads of guests, I'd definitely have blended in if I were there – but clearly I was mistaken.

"I just thought–" she began, before shaking her head. "Never mind."

"Sorry, I thought–" I started, but like her, didn't know what to say. "Parties aren't my thing," I admitted truthfully. "But it looked fun. You enjoyed it, right?"

She nodded, a small forced smile on her lips. "Yeah, right. It's cool. No biggie."

I swallowed awkwardly. It seemed like a biggie and now I felt bad.

"I, er, got you a gift," I blurted, hoping to change the subject. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the terribly wrapped present and held it out nervously. "I hope you, er, like it."

Her eyebrows raised as her eyes flickered between the present and I. "Oh? You didn't have to. I wasn't expecting anything."

Was it hot in here or was it just me?

I pulled my collar away from my neck, hoping to circulate some air. "I wanted to. It's not a big deal."

She accepted the gift, fingers brushing mine and making me even more nervous, before opening it up. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she revealed a brand new leather paintbrush carry case.

"The one you always carry around is tattered and falling apart, so I thought I'd get you a new one," I explained, feeling like I had to. "I mean, unless the other one has some sort of sentimental value, then in that case, I can just return this."

"Are you kidding? I love it!" she exclaimed, looking to me with a grin. "It's beautiful, Y/N. I don't even know what else to say."

My shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile tugging at my lips. "Good. Th-that's good. I'm glad you like it."

Without warning, she moved forward off her stool and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I was startled, unable to think straight with her body pressed so close to mine and her floral perfume wafting into my nose. Why did she have to smell so good?

"Thank you," she muttered, pulling away but not quite letting go. Her eyes were glowing as they watched me carefully, accompanying her weak-in-the-knees smile. I was sure I'd melt. "It means a lot."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear I'd say something stupid. I resisted the urge to look down at her lips, which were pulled into a small, appreciative smile. She let go of me, looking to the case again and unravelling it. I caught my breath meanwhile, my senses still on override as her perfume lingered.

She was just so damn beautiful.

—

"Okay, how about this – robotic or organic aliens. Which would you rather invade our planet?" Y/BF/N asked.

I chuckled at his question. "Definitely haven't thought about that one, but let's see..."

We were hanging in the bleachers out near the football field as we waited for football practice to end. Y/BF/N had a Film project to do and needed to film the field, so I offered to help like the good friend I was.

"Probably organic," I answered as I balanced on the bleachers, standing up and tiptoeing down them like steps. "At least we could reason with them if they tried to kill us because they'd have a conscience. Robotic aliens would just be programmed to take over and that's it."

Y/BF/N seemed against the idea as he played with his camera. "Yeah, but if they were robotic, all we'd have to do is launch a missile at them and they'd explode. You can break metal. It's harder to break organic matter."

I stifled a laugh. "You've given this much thought, I see."

He gave me a knowing look. "You telling me you don't think aliens exist?"

I stopped tiptoeing and stood still as I looked down at him with humoured eyes. "You know I know aliens exist."

He waved his hand like that was enough reasoning. "There you go then!"

I laughed, wondering how he thought of this stuff, then continued to balance as I walked down the bleachers. Probably the wrong choice as when I heard a voice call me, I looked up, saw it was Wanda, then proceeded to miss a step and fall onto my arse.

"Oh God, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, moving forward to help me.

My face heated up as Y/BF/N laughed his arse off beside me. I accepted Wanda's hand and let her pull me up, before letting go immediately when I could handle it myself. Her presence always made me nervous, but this was just terrible.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, glancing at her and freezing at her piercing gaze and suppressed smile.

"You sure?" she asked, glancing at Y/BF/N, before trying to hide her own laughter.

Fuck me, why was I such a mess whenever she was around?

"Very sure," I said, though my back began to ache from where I hit it. "What's up, anyway?"

Y/BF/N finally shut up, to my relief, and Wanda minimised her laughter before scratching her head.

"I'm waiting for practice to end so I can take Pietro home," she said, nodding to the field. "I saw you both sat here and thought I'd say hi. Are you guys watching practice?"

"Not really," I answered, before tilting my head to Y/BF/N. "We're just waiting for it to end so Y/BF/N can film for his project."

"Ooh, that sounds interesting," she said, intrigued and looking to him now. "What's that about?"

As he caught her up on it, I found myself checking Wanda out without realising. She was animated as she listened to Y/BF/N talk about his assignment, eyes giving him all of her attention, and a permanent smile was fixed on her lips as she listened to him. Though it wasn't directed at me, I felt butterflies swirling a storm in my stomach and clutched it, hoping they'd go away. I loved and hated the feeling all at once.

Breaking me from my reverie, a football flew past all three of us and hit the bleachers, startling us all. We looked in the direction it came from and saw the football team looking back at us, some laughing and some disgruntled. Two players ran towards us and when they got close enough, I made them out as Pietro and Nate.

Nate was laughing as he looked between us all, before his gaze fell on me. "It's Y/N, right? I feel like I'm always throwing that thing at you. Sorry about that."

But his constant laughing and lack of guilt refuted his words. I merely clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes his way, not that he seemed to care nor notice. I was a mere fly in a world that revolved around him. He'd never notice.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't even know you were over here," he added, looking to Wanda. "You okay?"

Wanda crossed her arms and seemed frustrated. "I'm fine, Nate. Just get your ball."

He shrugged and grabbed his ball. Before leaving, he pressed a kiss to Wanda's cheek which made me wince, but she made no attempt in enjoying it. He didn't seem to care as he took off running back to his team. Pietro smiled apologetically at the three of us.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "He can be such a dick sometimes."

That was the understatement of the century.

With that, he turned and ran back to his team to finish up. Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as Y/BF/N and I exchanged glances.

"I should get the car running," she said awkwardly, pointing a thumb over her shoulder and towards the car park. "Good luck with your assignment, Y/BF/N. And I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N."

Waving goodbye with an awkward smile, I watched her leave and wondered the same thing I always did whenever Nate decided to make an appearance in my life.

How could she be dating such a dick?

—

Apart from the birthday party I didn't go to, I'd never been invited (or had a reason to go) to Wanda's house. I'd seen it, rode my bike past it, but never actually been in it. So, when she invited me to her place to work on a project we'd been assigned in class, I was unsure how to feel. She was adamant though and I had no reason to say no, so the only thing left to do was say yes. Even when she offered to drive me there after school.

"This is your car?" I asked with disbelief.

I knew absolutely nothing about cars, but I wasn't blind. Hers was a gorgeous deep red colour with a convertible roof that was currently lowered so anyone in it would feel the sun on their back and wind in their hair.

"Yeah, you like it?" she asked as she got into the driver's seat.

I gulped and sat in the passenger's seat, throwing my backpack at my feet. "It's so nice. You sure you don't mind me drinking in this?"

I had a Pepsi bottle in my hand and was deathly afraid of opening it now in case I spilt it and the cleaning bill would be more than I made in a year at the pizza parlour.

She laughed, already pulling out of the car park. "Of course. Don't be silly."

I glanced in her direction, trying not to get distracted by how good she looked in the driver's seat. She was wearing a red leather jacket, funnily enough, matching the exterior of her car, and she had dark eyeliner around her eyes, accentuating the shape and colour of them and leaving me speechless whenever she looked my way.

"There's CDs in the glove compartment," she was saying as she focused on the road. "Or you can mess around with the radio. It's up to you."

"CDs?" I asked, it piquing my interest. I reached into the glove compartment, adding, "What is this, the 2000s?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, accepting my teasing, as I flicked through the small stack of albums.

"I don't know, I guess I just like having the physical version," she said with a shrug. "It's kind of like a collection."

I chuckled at her need to explain herself, watching the way she rubbed her neck nervously, smiling with embarrassment. Looking back to the albums, a particular one grabbed my attention and I plucked it out with raised brows.

"Oh my God, you like Paramore?" I asked, looking to her with surprise. "Now it's definitely the 2000s."

Her cheeks flushed as she grew flustered. I nudged her in the side gently, getting her attention briefly.

"I'm kidding," I reassured, tilting my head her way playfully. "I actually love Paramore. They're my favourite band."

"Really?" she asked with surprise as I put the CD in her car. I hummed in response, to which she continued, "Have you ever seen them live?"

As For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic played quietly in the background, I nodded my head. "Yeah, once. It was a few years ago, but the tickets were shitty and I could just about make them out on stage in the distance."

Wanda laughed, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "No, that's so sad!"

I chuckled in agreement. "Yeah. It was, but oh well. They have a tour coming up this summer, right? Maybe I can get better tickets this time 'round... what about you? Have you ever seen them live?"

She hummed, making a turn at some traffic lights and chewing her lower lip as she focused on doing so. It was definitely the wrong time, but I found myself admiring how attractive it was, especially when her jaw tensed and her defined jawline was on display.

"Yeah, I saw them a few times," she finally responded, pulling me from my stupor. "Some really good seats, some really shitty ones." She giggled at the end, making me smile. "Maybe we could go to that concert in the summer. If you're up for it?"

This seemed like one of those times where you made plans with a friend that you knew would never happen, so to not cause an awkwardness in the conversation, I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, maybe."

She glanced at me and I mirrored her smile, the flash of excitement in her eyes knocking me breathless.

When we reached her house, I was awestruck at how big it was from the inside. I mean, it looked huge from the outside, but the inside was even better. Her family were rich, I knew that, but this was some other level of rich.

"Here, c'mon, I'll get you a drink, then we can go into the dining room to start," Wanda said, failing to recognise my amazement and instead leading me to the kitchen. "We have tropical juice, apple juice, water, Sprite, Cola... which d'you want?"

I settled at the island, taking a seat and subtly admiring her kitchen. "Er, apple juice is fine with me."

She smiled brightly before pouring me a glass, whilst pouring herself some Sprite. Standing opposite me, we both took a moment to have a drink, but didn't get chance to exchange words as her mum entered the room and noticed me instantly.

"Y/N, it's so lovely to see you again!" she said kindly, patting me on the shoulder before heading to the fridge. "You girls hanging out? Studying?"

"We have a project," Wanda filled in as I nodded in agreement. "We alright to claim the dining room?"

After grabbing some water from the fridge, Wanda's mum pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "Sure thing, sweetie. If you need anything, just let me know." Smiling once more at me, she said, "It's good to see you, Y/N."

"You too," I said with a friendly smile before she left.

"Come on," Wanda said, motioning for me to follow. "We have tons to do."

The next hour and a half was spent with Wanda and I planning out our project, our work sprawled along the dining table messily. We were making progress, until she got a call suddenly. It seemed serious as she gave me an apologetic glance and excused herself. I let her go and leaned back in my seat, wondering what I could do as I waited for her to return. That thought was resolved quite quickly when Pietro popped his head in the doorway and spotted me.

"Y/N! What an honour to welcome you to our humble abode," he exclaimed, entering the room fully. "What brings you here?"

Pietro's presence always brought an amused smile to my lips. "Wanda and I are working on a Chemistry project. She's just nipped out for a phone call."

He tutted dramatically, crossing his arms. "Well, well, well. We can't have that! Wanda needs to learn to entertain her guests. C'mon. I was about to head to the gaming room and could use the company."

I was visibly surprised. "You have a gaming room? Dude, that's awesome!"

He laughed. "C'mon."

Joining Pietro, the two of us headed to this so-called gaming room and I was not disappointed. There was a huge TV with a PlayStation and Nintendo Switch connected to it, a snooker table, a foosball table, a dart board, some old arcade games – it was amazing, any gamer's biggest dream.

"What you feeling, princess?" he said with that flirtatious smile of his.

I rolled my eyes playfully. He was being overtly flirty, more so than his sister was – was it a Maximoff personality trait or something? – and I wasn't sure whether he meant it or was just being his usual self.

"Are you flirting?" I deadpanned, tilting my head curiously. "I can't tell."

He pocketed his hands, swinging back on the heels of his feet. "That depends. Is it working?"

Despite my lack of interest in him like that, I felt my face heat up at the attention. "Pietro, I must tell you that any moves you attempt to make kind of won't work."

"And why's that?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the snooker table with a cheeky smile on his lips. "Am I not your type?"

"Unless you change into a girl, then no," I played along, making him flush with embarrassment. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm gay."

"Okay, I guess that makes sense," he mumbled to himself, before sighing and meeting my eyes. "We can still be friends, right? Or is that forbidden since you're already friends with my sister?"

I laughed and approached him. "Friends works. I don't think Wanda will care. I certainly don't."

He grinned. "Awesome! Well, d'you wanna play a round of foosball?"

"Sure," I said with an amused expression. "Bet I can kick your arse."

He pushed himself off the table and feigned surprise. "Oh? Game on, Y/L/N."

I didn't realise how long Wanda had been on the phone until I managed to get through three rounds of foosball and was in the middle of a snooker game with Pietro.

"You may have beat me at foosball, but you're terrible at this," he pointed out with stifled laughter.

I'd missed my third shot and it was more funny than it was embarrassing.

"Your talking distracts me," I said dismissively, before lining up the next shot with my cue.

He watched as I tried to take my shot before sighing loudly. I glanced at him with a quirked brow.

"You have a thought you'd like to share?" I asked playfully.

He hesitated, moving forward to correct my posture. "Look, if you just aim it like this–"

"Don't even think about it, Romeo," I said jokingly, standing up straight and pushing him away gently. "I know what you're thinking."

He laughed. "What? I was just going to help you aim!"

I gave him a knowing look. "So holding me close is just a bonus?"

"Fine, take your shot without my help and see what happens," he said dismissively, waving his hand.

"I'll do just that," I said with confidence, before bending down and taking my shot. The ball hit the other and neither were pocketed, which was an achievement as I'd got the cue ball in several times before, but still pretty shit as I didn't score any points.

Pietro smiled with satisfaction, leaning on his cue. "You happy with that?"

I held in a laugh as I looked to him. "Shut up."

He chuckled before bumping me out the way. "Now for the professional."

Bending down to take his shot, he pulled back his cue before hitting the balls. They rolled around on the table and one ball was about to go in, but I quickly grabbed it before he could get the point.

"Y/N!" he shouted between laughter. "That's cheating!"

"Technically we didn't establish rules," I pointed out, before moving backwards as he tried to grab it from my hand. "What do you say to calling it a draw and playing something else?"

"I say that's a childish way to admit you've lost," he responded, before moving forward quickly. I dodged his attempt and he pursed his lips. "Y/N."

"Pietro."

He smirked. "Seriously?"

I grinned.

He tried to grab it again and ended up chasing me around the room as I avoided giving in. Taking the piss out of Y/BF/N enough times had prepared me for moments like this, so I was able to avoid Pietro long enough to run into whoever walked through the door.

"Shit, Wanda, I'm sorry," I said between laughter, steadying both me and her.

She smiled with confusion, about to speak, but Pietro caught up to me and lifted me up, throwing me onto the couch before I could protest.

"No more cheating," he said sternly, as I lifted my head from the pile of cushions on the couch to look up at him.

"You're an arse," I said, pushing myself up off the couch.

"And you're a sore loser!"

We had a mini staring competition before the two of erupted into laughter.

"You're not half bad, Pietro," I complimented as he helped me up.

"Thank you, princess," he said, the flirtatious smile on his lips again.

I shoved him in the shoulder playfully before looking to Wanda, who was chewing on her lip as she looked between Pietro and I with an unreadable expression.

"So, what prompted you to leave Y/N alone for an hour?" Pietro asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, making me shove him away. He grinned at me before looking to Wanda.

"Nate called," Wanda responded carefully, arms crossed as she continued to look between us. God, I hoped she didn't think Pietro and I liked each other. That would be embarrassing.

Pietro scoffed from beside me, making Wanda sigh with annoyance.

"Don't start, Piet," she said and gave him a look which he seemed to understand.

By the sounds of it, Pietro didn't seem to like Wanda's dick of a boyfriend either. That was strange since wasn't impressing the brother the first part of being in a relationship with someone? And they were on the same football team, so I figured he'd at least tolerate him.

"Are we alright to get back to studying?" Wanda asked, directing her stare to me. The annoyance she held for Pietro was still present in her eyes and I suddenly felt nervous when she looked my way.

"Yeah, of course," I said, before giving Pietro a half-smile. "Rematch at snooker next time. Sound good?"

"Try to keep the balls on the table and we'll see," he teased, before nodding to Wanda. "You should get back to your project before Wanda kills us both with her deadly glare."

I smiled awkwardly, looking back to Wanda as she was indeed glaring at her brother. Clearly there was some sibling rivalry going on here, and I definitely didn't want to get in the middle of it, so I headed to Wanda, signalling I was ready to leave.

The two of us headed back to the dining room in an uncomfortable silence. I felt like I'd done something wrong and she was giving me the silent treatment which was strange. Then I figured it was probably something with Nate that made her annoyed, so didn't question it too much.

We sat back down and I looked at what we'd done so far to try and pick up where we left off, but then she spoke out of the blue, taking me by surprise.

"Do you like my brother?"

It was so abrupt that I took a moment to acknowledge it, blinking. "What?"

"Pietro," she clarified, saying it with such dismissiveness like it wasn't a big deal. Her attention was on the books before us as she continued, "Do you like him?"

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. "No, Wanda. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a great guy. But yeah, no, I don't like him like that."

She chewed her lip, nodding, but I swear I saw a hint of a smile on her lips. I hoped it wasn't the thought of Pietro and I that made her annoyed. I wasn't that bad, was I? I know she cared about her brother and was probably overprotective, but me being his girlfriend couldn't have been that bad, right?

We got back to work in no time, getting a lot done. I didn't realise how late it was getting until Wanda's mum poked her head in, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner.

"Dinner?" I asked, eyebrows raising with surprise. I checked my watch and realised how long I'd been here. "Damn, maybe I should head back."

"Nonsense, you must stay," her mum insisted. "Y/M/N won't mind. A daughter of hers is a daughter of mine."

"You can even sleepover if you want," Wanda offered, and I almost choked on my own spit. "It's getting pretty late."

I shook my head, forcing a small smile so they wouldn't get offended. "Honestly, it's fine. I can head back."

"Please?" Wanda asked with a hopeful expression. "It's the least I can do. I kinda wasted your time for an hour earlier..."

"I should ask my mum," I said, chewing on the inside of my mouth.

"Oh, I'll ring and let her know," Wanda's mum said breezily, before looking to Wanda. "D'you think you can clear your things up? Your brother is gonna set the table."

"Sure, mum." Wanda smiled her way as she left, before looking to me. "I've got clothes and a spare toothbrush you can use tonight."

I smiled awkwardly, nodding. Sleeping over at my crush's house wasn't how I thought I'd be spending my Wednesday evening, yet here we were.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel #mcu

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥

Hi everyone! As promised, here’s one of the two most voted fic continuations. There will be more chapters to this story though I'm not sure how many yet. Thank you for reading!

warnings: sugar daddy jae, mentions of injuries and hospitals, language.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv

Sugar rush m.list.

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

Where did everything go wrong?

Your string of thoughts was cut off by a call from your aunt.

“Hello?” Your voice was raspy from not using it. There was no one to talk to in the quiet, hospital room but the nurses, who weren't especially keen on chatting.

“How’s your dad, sweetie?”

“They let him out of ICU, but he doesn't look good to me.” Your fingers traced the cuts in his chiseled cheeks that would soon turn into scars, ruining his perfect skin. Your eyes then diverted to his head, thoroughly covered in bandages to protect his damaged skull.

“Honey, I've got bad news...”

“They rejected the case, didn't they?”

“Not precisely.” She deeply inhaled before continuing. “It’s a tough case, almost impossible to win, nonetheless, they're willing to take it. But their fee is a little...”

“Expensive.”

“Yes.”

As expected from the best firm in town, they wouldn't take less than $8,000. Your bank account didn't have enough money to even cover half of it, and with your job at the convenience store, you'd only earn so much to cover your expenses.

“We can take the lawyer that the government provides us with, it would be free.”

“But then I'm sure we’d lose.” You groaned in frustration, using your free hand to rub your forehead. “Don’t worry, I'll find a way to get the money.”

“Why don't we just accept the compensation they're offering? It could pay for the hospital bills and you'd still have some left to pay for your tuition.”

“That would be like putting a price on my father's life. I don't want their money, I want them to make themselves responsible for what they've caused.” The sound of wheels approached the door of your father's room, signaling the nurse was outside with his meds. “It’s okay, Auntie, I'll take care of everything. You can go back home, I know my uncle isn't doing so well.”

“Are you sure, darling?” It was undeniable that she wanted to head back to her little ranch fat away from the hectic city life to take care of her sick husband, but still, her brother was laying down on a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

“Yes, I'm an adult, I'll find a way.”

“Take care of yourself, and don't hesitate to call me if you're having any difficulties. I'll be there in the blink of an eye.” She said before sending a kiss into the speaker, proceeding to hang up.

You sighed. It was never usual for you to ask for help, as you were an extremely prideful and independent person, and you doubted this time would be different.

“Don’t worry, dad. Everything will be alright.”

Three failed job interviews and one more to go. Your feet were killing you, the high heels covering them already worn out from walking to avoid taking the bus. Every penny counted, and as long as your legs worked, you weren't spending any more money than what was necessary.

You sat down in the waiting room of the company, massaging your neck to relieve some tension. College was becoming a burden. Maybe you'd take a semester off to focus on working, that is if someone wanted to hire an inexperienced student.

“Y/n, Y/l/n?”

“Here.” You darted up, gathering your belongings to enter the room on which your life almost literally depended.

You gave all the right answers, earning a polite ‘we’ll contact you’ in return. But you could see that they weren't convinced with your lack of experience, no company in their right mind would be.

As soon as you arrived at your apartment, you slid out of the uncomfortable pencil skirt, tucking yourself under the covers with your phone screen almost hitting your nose.

To take your mind off things, you decided to watch some videos. Halfway in, an ad popped up, interrupting the interior deco video you were watching.

A picture of a girl about your age hugging an older man was right in the middle of your screen. Written with fancy letters, the words ‘make your life simpler’ could be read, followed by what you guessed was the title of the app. Sugar rush.

Out of pure curiosity, your finger tapped at the small icon that led to the app store, absentmindedly clicking the download button. A few seconds later, an icon with the letters ‘SR’ was added to your home screen.

“Log in?” You murmured out loud, squinting your eyes to adjust your eyes to the bright, white homepage.

Just as you were about to click out, the phrase from the ad reappeared, stopping your finger from moving any further.

You could always delete your account if something went wrong, right? Nonetheless, you decided to use a false name, and that's how Melanie Kim’s profile was created. You left the circle of your profile picture empty for now, only filling the spaces that asked about your likes, dislikes, age, and all that stuff that people care about so much.

You knew what the app was for, but that didn't stop you from being surprised when a list of men and women of different ages greeted you. Right then, a small rectangle obstructed your sight, two buttons offering opposite things.

‘Pick the role you'd like to develop.’

Sugar daddy/mommy / Sugar baby.

Clearly, you didn’t have nor the money or the years to be the first, so you clicked the opposite button without giving it more thought.

‘Welcome. You've been registered as a sugar baby at Sugar rush. Meet thousands of men and women willing to finance you for free!’

You hummed.

‘As we're always looking to make our users’ experience better, we've developed Sugar Rush premium, a membership to meet the richest and hottest people in your surroundings. Get the premium version for only $5.95 a month. Click here to get Sugar Rush premium.’

Your finger pad was dangerously close to the blue button, almost grazing the screen of the phone. It was then when you were pulled out of your trance, blinking as if just then you'd realized what you were doing.

“I must be crazy.” You turned off your phone, not bothering to turn on an alarm for the next day. You had no interviews left. You had nowhere to go.

Waking up was getting harder with every passing day. Not being able to call your dad to go out for breakfast or even sending a simple good morning message hurt you deeply. You missed him. But seeing him laying down on a hospital bed, unable to do anything by himself, was even worse.

Ding

A notification filled the silence in your room.

‘Come back, you haven't finished setting up your account yet!’

You scoffed at your past self. What were you even thinking when you downloaded the app?

You simply turned off the phone before standing up to take a relaxing shower. As the water soaked up your tense body, your mind started wandering off back to the app. A million what-ifs filled your head, nonetheless, there was one that remained the most persistent.

‘What if this can pay for a lawyer?’

Your part-time job surely couldn't, and you had no one to assist you financially speaking. The whole idea of paying that ridiculous membership seemed more tempting as your fingers started getting wrinkly under the showerhead.

You decided to take some time to consider it, after all, you still had a week to give the lawyers an answer.

Hot soup seemed like a good option to comfort you, and thankfully, there was a store right in front of your place that claimed to sell the best soups in town.

It wasn't bad, but not nearly as good as the one your dad cooked when you were a kid. You sighed, wondering if you'd ever be able to eat it again. Just then, a woman about your age came into the shop, carrying a couple of bags where names of popular brands could be read. A pinch of jealousy made your heart stir as you glanced at yourself through the reflection in the glass at your side. You looked devastated, your skin pale and your cheekbones slightly sunken, a sign of the lack of rest and food you'd been getting.

Out of pure impulse, you pulled out your phone, clicked on the app you'd recently downloaded, and finally accepted the charges for a premium membership.

‘Welcome, new member of our wide community, click ok to get started!’

Well, no turning back now.

Right after pressing the blue letters with your thumb, you were presented with a list of potential prospects, some of them including pictures, some of them only including name and a brief description of what they were looking for. The minority included their ages, but most left the space blank.

A bunch of old men looking for a youthful, pretty woman to be by their sides, some of them even went as far as writing the weight and height their ideal partner should have. Of course, there were also some women in the look for young meat, but the number of men overpassed them.

About to exit the app in defeat, a profile caught your eye. His pale pink hair was parted, allowing his thick eyebrows to stand out. His high cheekbones made him look like a statue, the details in his face almost too perfect for a mere human. He must be the incarnation of a Greek God, you thought.

‘Jung Yoonoh. 41 years old. Owner of N & C.’

“Should I...?” You asked yourself in a voice lower than a whisper.

He has probably gotten hundreds of messages, so what would be the point of sending one yourself? Your eyes scanned the picture over and over again as the remains of your soup started getting cold.

He was probably the only acceptable man in the whole app, so why not give it a try?

You already spent five whole dollars on it, might as well make it worth the money.

‘Hi.’ Sent.

“Holy crap.” You breathed out, regretting every single action that led you to take such a stupid decision. “Ah!” You squeaked as three small dots appeared beside his profile picture, signaling he was writing a reply.

What if he rejected you right from the beginning? God, that would be so humiliating. His message stopped your train of thought.

‘Hi!’

Followed by:

‘How are you?’

Sweating like a pig, thank you for asking.

‘Fine. You?’ Read.

‘Thrilled. No one had messaged me since I created my account two weeks ago.’

‘How is that possible?’ You imprinted your thoughts on a message.

‘It’s hard to trust people nowadays. I guess people might think either my picture is photoshopped or I'm lying about my job.’

‘Their loss, ig.’ Read.

He was taking some time to answer. Had you said something inappropriate?

‘Hahaha.’

The conversation stopped there, as you didn't know how exactly to answer his message. But a few minutes later, another text from him popped up at your chat.

‘If you're okay with it, we can start talking about a possible arrangement.’

Already? You've known each other for like five minutes. But then again, arrangements were the whole purpose of the app.

‘Sure.’

‘May I ask your reasons for joining the app?’

‘I need urgent money, but my job doesn't pay nearly enough.’ You omitted the part of your agonizing father, he didn't need to know that. ‘And you?’

‘I need someone to be my partner at public spaces.’

‘Alright.’ Read.

‘Do you happen to have some free time tomorrow at lunchtime? I think it’d be better to meet first before making any decisions.’

‘Yeah, I'm free.’

‘Great, I’ll send you the address.’

You thought a day would be enough to prepare yourself, but time passed by quicker than usual, and soon enough, it was time to get ready for your meeting with Mr. Jung. He was only a few years younger than your father, and calling him by his first name wouldn't feel right.

Unsure if you should wear something formal, you threw on a beige (the color you'd agreed on wearing so it’d be easier to recognize each other) summer dress, pairing it with the gold hoops you'd inherited from your grandma to make it look more elegant.

The hardest part of your routine was makeup. Your sunken cheeks couldn't be covered, and only after a few layers of blush and highlighter, you could bring your skin back to life.

On your way to the cafe, you went through the things you'd say when you met him. It was your chance to get your father what he needed.

You stood at the entrance with wide, scared eyes, shyly scanning through the place to look for your date.

“Melanie?” A hand on your shoulder had you jolting. “I’m Jung Yoonoh, nice to meet you.”

What you saw after turning around was breathtaking. A handsome, healthy man, with the most beautiful pair of dimples.

“Nice to meet you.” You managed to blurt out without stuttering, extending your hand to make the greeting more formal. The fake name didn’t seem necessary anymore. “It’s actually y/n, I didn't want to use my real name.”

“I understand. Let’s take a seat.” He offered with a kind smile.

He left you seating at the terrace while he made your order, a latte, and a chocolate cookie. Your fingers played with your hoops anxiously, trying to regulate your breath.

“They’ll bring our food in just a sec.” He offered a warm smile. “Your dress is pretty.” Yoonoh said out of nowhere.

“Thank you.”

“I see you're not a chatty person.” You were about to object, but he started speaking again. “It's not a bad thing! I usually talk a lot, so it’s a nice way to balance things.”

You nodded, seemingly uncomfortable with the man sitting in front of you.

“So, uhm, this is my first time doing this, so I'm not really sure where to begin.” He pulled out a folded paper from the front pocket of his dressing pants. “It’s a bit creased, but I can always print another one. I brought it so you could take a look and let me know if you wanted to change anything. I don't mean to pressure you, but you said it was urgent, so...”

You read the paper under his attentive gaze, making sure not to miss a single word. Everything seemed correct, except...

“Six months?”

“Is that too much?” A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, a sign of deep concentration. “Okay, so let's do this instead.”

He took back the contract, pulling out a pen from the pocket in his dressing shirt to correct the original stipulations.

“Four months, and if by the end of them you don't absolutely hate me, we can extend the time. Deal?”

“Just one more thing.”

You cleared your throat, conscious that your following words might jeopardize the whole arrangement.

“Are you sure you want to make it official already?” You had to stop for a moment as the waiter left your orders on top of the wooden table. “I mean, it's not that I have a problem with it, but it's your money and maybe you'd like to give it a better thought.” You resumed.

“The fact that you're concerned about me proves I'm making the right choice. Now, tell me, how much would you like to receive as a weekly allowance?”

Would it be too reckless to ask him straight up for the $8,000?

“H-how much are you willing to give me?” You felt dirty, accepting a stranger’s money like that.

“Whatever you need.” His hand suddenly reached forward to yours, causing every ounce of blood in your body to rush to your face. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I'm here to help you.” His voice tone dropped, acquiring an almost soothing feeling.

“I need eight thousand by Thursday, next week.” His eyes were wide open, mouth having difficulties remaining closed. “I-I know it's too much, but...”

“I can find a way to give you that money, but I'd like to know the reason why you need it. Just to make sure it's nothing illegal.”

You puffed your cheeks, trying to find an excuse good enough to justify the amount of money you were asking for.

“It isn’t illegal, is it?”

“No!” You retrieved your hand from below his, now embarrassed at the possibility of him having a bad image of you. “I need it for my father.”

“I suppose you don't want to talk about it.” He started at his palm, lips pressed in a thin life. “But when it comes to arrangements like this, we need to trust each other, alright?” You barely knew each other, yet, he demanded to know a very personal detail of your life. Not that he didn't have a good reason for wanting to know, it wasn't a particularly small amount of money.

“He had an accident at work...” You started, fearful of looking up to find pity in his eyes. “I need a lawyer to make his company legally responsible. They intend to throw it under the rug and pay a somewhat decent amount of money to make it go away. The firm I intend to hire is supposedly the best in town, probably my only chance of getting justice.”

“And why don't you just accept it? There's no guarantee that your lawyer will win the case.” You fisted the delicate fabric of your dress, eyes watering as you tried to hold back your anger.

“My father’s life is priceless, and if you think what I'm doing is a waste of money, then fine, we can both look for someone else to help us.” It sounded more aggressive than you'd first intended, but you meant every word that came out of your mouth.

Before you could even stand up, his slim fingers had already wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“I never said that.” He whispered with an almost sad tone. “Come on, sit down.”

He tugged at your arm the slightest, showing off his charming dimples once again.

“I’ll give you the money on one condition...” He raised one of his thick eyebrows. “I’ll go with you to see the lawyer.”

“Why...?”

“That’s my condition, take it or leave it.”

“Okay.”

The days before your meeting with your potential lawyer were nerve-wracking. You'd seen Yoonoh another time to sign the contract, which finally made your arrangement official.

You’d visit your father every day, always hoping he'd be sitting with his arms wide open, ready to hug you. But nothing had changed ever since he first came into that room.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kim.” The secretary's gaze lingered on Jaehyun a few seconds before he finally snapped out of it. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Just a second.” He opened his agenda and quickly found your appointment. With a warm smile, he guided you through the corridors of the building, all the way to the elevator. “It’s the only office on the last floor, I'll be at my desk if you need anything.”

Once again, he shot Jae an uneasy glance before the metal doors slid close.

“What was all that?” To be honest, you couldn't care less. But a small chat might calm your nerves and prevent you from throwing up all over the place.

“What do you mean?” He grinned, pressing the button to the top floor.

“You know what I mean.” You scoffed, annoyed at his evasive behavior.

“We just happen to know each other, nothing special.” Before the conversation could continue, a loud ding resonated through the metal cubicle. “Let’s go.” His hand found its place at the small of your back, pushing you towards the glass door. Through it, you could see a black-haired man reading a pile of documents, occasionally raising a photo to examine it with his gold-rimmed glasses supported at the bridge of his elegant nose.

Jaehyun extended his arm over your shoulder to knock on the door, earning an almost annoyed ‘come in’ from the man inside.

“Let’s go.” Once again invading your personal space, he reached for the doorknob with you trapped between his arms.

As soon as the door opened, the man raised his eyes from the documents he was checking.

“What are you doing here, Jung?”

“I knew something was off...” You murmured, loud enough for the man at your side to chuckle.

“I brought you a client, you should be happy.”

“Miss y/n, I suppose. Have a seat.” His demeanor completely changed while speaking directly to you. “I spoke with your aunt last week, she explained the details of the lawsuit, but I must say, it isn't an easy case.”

“I know that, but I've been told you're the best firm in town, I know I'll have more possibilities of winning if you're my lawyer.”

“Best firm in town my ass.”

“Be silent or I’ll kick you out of the building.”

That was enough for Yoonoh to zip his mouth. For a while at least.

“I suppose she also told you about our fee.” He pushed his glasses up using his thumb. “We’d also keep 25% of the lawsuit money assuming we win the case, is that okay with you?”

“Yes-”

“Okay, stop.”

“I’ll call security, Jung.”

“Look at me, y/n.” He squeezed your arms. “This clown is trying to scam you...” He pointed his finger at the lawyer without breaking eye contact. “You’d be spending loads of money for someone who isn't even confident in his abilities. It isn't worth it.”

“And I suppose you'd do better than me, then.” The black-haired man scoffed. “If that's the case, then you can both leave. I'm quite busy at the moment.” With a turn of his wrist, he signaled you to leave the room.

You were fuming, stomping out of the building with Jaehyun right behind you.

“I found a great restaurant nearby, we can go there and-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you just fucked up my only chance to give those bastards what they deserve.” The sun was starting to set, yellow light casting shadows over his tender cheeks.

“Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Are you laughing right now?” You bit your lip, hard, trying to hold back the tsunami of tears threatening to come out of your eyes. “Asshole.”

“Ouch.” He furrowed his eyebrows mockingly. Oh, how close you were to punch that pretty face of his. “Can I explain now?”

You remained silent, staring at the ground with the smallest frown between your eyebrows.

“How do you think I know Kim Doyoung?” Before even giving you a chance to answer, he continued. “That son of a bitch has been stealing my clients for ages.”

“Your clients...?”

“He isn't even that good of a lawyer compared to me.” He scoffed with fake arrogance.

“You're a lawyer?!” You slammed your palms into your face, whining at the newly acquired information. “Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?”

“Just wanted to swing by and annoy him a bit. Don't worry, I wasn't gonna let you accept his deal.” He winked playfully.

The sun was now hidden, the sky darkening as the moon rose to take its shift.

“Though I gotta say, I'm kinda offended I wasn't even an option. I'm a pretty great lawyer, you know?”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you if you join me for dinner. What do you say?”

As you walked into the darkness of the streets, his shoulder occasionally bumping yours, you wondered if meeting him was a casualty. Maybe the world was finally smiling at you.

#nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun

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seungmoroll · 3 years

Text

Stray Kids Fraternity | Han Jisung

Word count: 5,073

Genre & warnings: mentions of alcohol, cheating, cuss words, friends to lovers

A/n: this is the first post for my new series. if you guys like this, please be sure to check out the other parts of the series once they’re posted here: x

The last thing you wanted was to see your crappy ex, Younghoon, tonight. All you wanted was to let loose and have some fun, but no, his presence alone has ruined your night. You thought that when Chan, the president of the frat house next door, invited you to their party that you were going to have fun and get drunk, but instead of having fun, you’re just slightly buzzed and wallowing in self-pity.

Honestly, there wasn’t even any reason for you to be like this. You were the one who broke up with him, but then again, he did break your heart by cheating on you with some random girl. However, seeing him with some other girl all over him made you so upset, that any part of you having fun that night was thrown out the window.

Deciding that you needed another drink, you go into the kitchen to see what’s available. Too busy observing your options, you fail to notice Changbin walking up to you, “Hey there, looking for anything in particular?”

“Something to make me forget?”

Cocking an eyebrow at you, he asks you, “Rough day?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t worry, I got just the right thing for you.” As Changbin makes this concoction for you, you watch as some random people play beer pong. You realize now that two of them are Jisung and Hyunjin, two guys that are part of the fraternity.

“Here,” Changbin says as he hands you your cup. Taking a sip, you choke from the burn of your throat, “Gosh, Changbin, what the hell is in this?”

“Uh, a little bit of everything?” Shrugging, you take another sip and let Changbin lead you back to the rest of the party. The two of you settle in a little nook, watching Jisung and Hyunjin win at beer pong.

“Whoo! Another win for the boys!” Jisung cheers, “Who’s up for another round?”

Shaking his head, Hyunjin backs away from Jisung, “I’m at my limit dude, I’m tapping out.”

“But who’s gonna play with me now?” Jisung asks with a pout on his face. Eyes searching the room, Jisung spots Changbin, and a grin forms on his face, “Hyung!” Cutting in before Jisung can attempt to rope him in a match, Changbin says, “I’m not playing, Jisung.” Another pout forms on his face.

Deciding to step out of your comfort zone, you volunteer yourself, “I’ll play.” This causes for the two men to look at you. “Well, well, look who’s stepping out of their comfort zone.”

Rolling your eyes at Jisung, you playfully push him, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” IT wasn’t like Jisung was a stranger to you. You have been invited over to their frat house plenty of times, and were well acquainted with everyone in the frat, heck, you could even call them your friends. Well after the large argument between you and Younghoon the night of your breakup, most of the guys, including Jisung, happened to hear everything, so you definitely could say that they knew a lot about you. Looking at the cups set up on the table, you ask, “Who’re we going against?”

“Us.” You and Jisung both turn towards the sound of the voice, and your blood runs cold when you see that it’s Younghoon and that chick from earlier. Sensing the tension between you and Younghoon, Jisung says, “Let’s get this thing started then.”

You couldn’t say that you were the best at beer pong, but luckily for you, Jisung was. What annoyed you the most throughout the game however, was that every time Younghoon made a shot, the girl he was with would throw herself all over him. Honestly, it made you want to barf. Fortunately, Jisung’s presence made things a little bit better.

As the game nears to the end, both sides are left with one cup each. It’s your turn to make the shot, and all you want to do is wipe the smirk off that jackass’ face. So with all your determination, you toss the ping pong ball and watch as it makes it way to the other side of the table. When the ball hits the rim of the cup, you hold your breath, and when it lands inside the cup, your breath is knocked out of you when Jisung lifts you up into a bone crushing hug. “Oh hell yeah! That’s my Y/n! Yo Hyunjin, I don’t need you anymore. Y/n’s my new beer pong partner now.”

Although Younghoon’s presence may have ruined a part of your life, you could say that being around Jisung made it a bit better, or maybe it was just all the alcohol you managed consume. Either way, you enjoyed living next door to a frat house.

The next time the frat boys throws a party is a month later, and of course you show up, but this time you brought your friend Yeji. However, you’re starting to think that was a mistake because she made you dress up this time. Last time you had just shown up in jeans and a nice shirt, but this time she was making you go all out. “C’mon Y/n, you told me that last time you saw Younghoon. Don’t you want to make him regret cheating on you?”

Sitting on your bed, you ponder her question. You don’t dress up often, but you guessed it couldn’t hurt to do so this one time, and if Younghoon happened to be at tonight’s party and he happens to se you then so be it. Getting up, you make it known to Yeji that you weren’t letting her dress you up because of a stupid boy, but because you wanted to look good and confident. Your response causes for her to clap in excitement and then she drags you into your closet to begin the process.

Once the two of you arrive next door, you are greeted by Jisung, “Oh hey Yeji, hey Y/n,” quickly observing your look, “You look different Y/n.” Cutting you off before you could say anything, Yeji excitedly asks, “Don’t they look hot?”

Squirming underneath Jisung’s gaze, your eyes widen when he says, “Yeah, they do.” Motioning towards the kitchen, “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

The two of you let Jisung lead you towards the kitchen, where you see Younghoon and a different girl from last time conversing by the kitchen counter. Ignoring Younghoon’s gaze, you stand in front of all drinks, pondering your options. Sliding behind you, Jisung gently wraps an arm around your waist to get to the other side of you, where he grabs a beer for himself and picks up another to see if you wanted one. Gladly accepting the offer, you take a swig of it, disliking the taste, but drinking it anyways.

You realize that Jisung is talking to you, but with the heavy bass of the music and the loud voices of people, you’re unable to understand anything that he’s saying. Realizing that you couldn’t hear him, Jisung steps closer to you and talks into your ear, “You up for being my partner at beer pong again?” Honestly, you weren’t really in the mood for too much drinking tonight, but you just realized the Yeji has already left your side and you’re really starting to hate the feeling of Younghoon’s gaze on you, so you pull back from Jisung and offer your hand to him, saying to him, “Lead the way.” He happily takes your hand and leads you to the table.

The two of you only play one game together, but you still have fun because you loved the look on Chan’s and Changbin’s face as you and Jisung won. Fortunately for you, the two men sucked at beer pong, so you didn’t have to drink much, and even when they did manage to land a ball in one of your cups, Jisung had offered to take the drink; saying something along the lines of him being too thirsty. Silently you had thanked him.

Hours go by when you and Yeji finally meet up again, and she’s on the verge of passing out. Deciding that you should bring her back to your place, you take your leave, but before you could go, Jisung catches you and tells you that he’ll walk the two of you back to you place, saying that he needed a bit of fresh air.

The short walk back to your place is filled with comfortable silence, sans the noise from the party. Having Jisung help you with the door, you throw a passed out Yeji onto you couch, turning to Jisung you thank him for the help and for making the night fun for you.

Waving you off, he says, “Nah, there’s no need to thank me, I didn’t do much anyways. Plus, I like having you around, so of course I gotta make it seem like us frat guys are fun.” He sends you a wink as you chuckle at him. Walking Jisung to your door, you bid him a good night, with a small smile on he face, he looks you in the eyes, “Good night Y/n.”

The next time you see Jisung isn’t at one of their frat parties, it’s actually during an unexpected situation.

It’s Tuesday morning when you decide that it’s too early in the morning for there to be someone ringing your doorbell. Checking through the peephole to see who the unwanted guest, you roll your eyes when you see Jisung. Opening up the door, the first thing Jisung says is, “So like here’s the thing, our water pipes are busted and I really need to take a shower. Can I use yours?” You contemplate for a moment on whether you should shut the door on Jisung’s face or not, but choosing to ignore the devil on your shoulder, you open the door widely, allowing room for Jisung to enter your house.

As Jisung uses your shower, you take the opportunity to make the two of you breakfast. Humming and dancing around as you get everything set up. While you were busy flipping the pancakes, your doorbell rings once again, but before you could go see who it was, you hear Jisung call out, “I’ll get it!”

When Jisung opens up the door he isn’t expecting to see your ex on the other side. Confused, Younghoon gives Jisung a once over and asks, “Is Y/n here?”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Jisung leans against the doorway, “They’re a bit busy right now.”

Annoyed by his response, Younghoon says, “Well could you tell them that I’m here and that I need to talk to them right now?”

Rubbing his fingers on his chin, seeming as if he was giving your ex’s request a thought, Jisung replies, “I could…but I won’t.” With the being said, Jisung makes an attempt to shut the door on your Younghoon’s face, but he slams his hand against the door and says, while gritting his teeth, “Look here you piece of-“

“Jisung? Who’s at the door?” you ask from behind Jisung.

“It’s no one.”

“It’s Younghoon.” Both men say at the same time.

Pushing Jisung aside, you widen the door to see your ex. “What do you want?” you ask him in an uninterested tone.

“I wanted to come and talk to you, Y/n.”

“Well then talk.” He looks over at Jisung, who’s been hovering over your shoulder glaring at him. “In private.”

“Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of Jisung and if that bothers you then you can just head on home and not talk to me ever again.”

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he brings to say, “I wanna get back together, Y/n. What I did was mistake-“ You stop him mid-sentence by raising your hand in the air, “Let me stop you right there Younghoon. If that’s what you came all the way down here for then I’m sorry, but I have no intentions of getting back together with you. If that is all, then enjoy your day, goodbye Younghoon, for good.” Closing the door, your lean against it, eyes shut, taking a moment to process everything. You even managed to forget about a certain frat boy’s presence.

“I’m proud of you Y/n.” Opening your eyes, you turn to glare at Jisung, “Did you really have to answer my door like that?” you motion to his body. Looking down at his own body, Jisung says to you, “What’s wrong with this?”

“Jisung, you’re literally only in a towel right now.” Said towel was the only thing covering Jisung and it was hanging low on his hips. “And your chest is still wet, it’s like you didn’t even bother to dry up.”

“Hey, don’t act like you aren’t enjoying the view right now. You better take it all in because not everyone gets to see this. Plus, I’m sure your ex is making up all kinds of situations as to why I’m like this in your house.” Jisung does ridiculous poses to show off his physique.

Sighing and making your way back to your kitchen, you say to him, “The last thing I need right now is for him to think that we’re together or whatever.” Jisung follows you into the kitchen, “Hey what’s wrong with thinking that we’re together?”

“Lots of things are wrong with thinking that. Now go and put on some real clothes so we can eat breakfast together.” You shoo him towards the bathroom as you set up your breakfast plates.

When Jisung returns, this time in actually clothing, he sits down at the kitchen island in front of his plate and says, “You know, this is a pretty domestic scene: you making breakfast for the two of us while I get ready in the morning. I think I can get used to this.”

Jisung’s unnecessary comment makes a slight blush form on your face, causing for you to mumble to him, “Shut up and eat your pancakes.” You choose to ignore the smug look on his face as you stuff yours with pancakes.

The next morning, Jisung is knocking at your door once again, and when you open it up, he asks to use your shower again. Playing the nice neighbor, you let him inside, asking him when their pipes will be fixed as he makes his way to your bathroom. “Uh I don’t know. They say it may take a week or two, or something like that.”

“I like the body wash that you use by the way. It smells good.” Jisung comes out from the hallway, towel drying his hair. This time he has pants on, but just like yesterday, he’s wet and shirtless. Taking a seat by the kitchen island, he watches as you maneuver around the kitchen.

“And why exactly did you use my body wash?” Being a good host, you place a piece of toast with avocado on a plate and slide it towards Jisung. He happily accepts it, take a bite, and answers your question, mouth still full of food, “I forgot to bring mine with me.”

“So what’re you up to today?” He waits for your answer as he chugs down the glass of water. You proceed to tell him that you didn’t have class that day, so you were going to

Because of the damage to the water pipes at the frat house, Jisung continues to come over to your house to use the shower for the rest of the week. In the short span of time that he’s constantly been over to your house, he’s inserted himself in your daily routine. If you were to be honest with yourself, you liked the change that he brought into your life. He’s managed to figure out your schedule; knows when it’s a good time to come over and stays a little bit afterwards to hang out and talk to you. Sometimes in the mornings, you’ll make breakfast for the both of you, whether it be a bowl of cereal or waffles. Though he still likes to parade around your house wet and shirtless, which you do your best to ignore, but that’s kind of hard when Jisung’s abs look the way they do.

There are even times when he doesn’t need to shower, but he’ll show up at your house anyway. You’re not too sure if you like the fact that the two of you have become so comfortable with one another over the span of a week.

One morning you had woken up earlier than usually and decided to go out and sit on your front porch, mug in hand. Taking in the beauty of the natural world, you hear the sound of a door closing. Turning, you see Minho, a mug also in his hand, still dressed in his pajamas. “Hey neighbor,” he raises up his mug to greet you.

Smiling and doing the same, you say, “Good morning Minho. Early morning?”

“Nah, I’m always up this early. There’s something about the fresh morning air that gets me going. The question is: why are you up this morning?” Leaning across the porch railing, he takes a sip from his mug.

“Couldn’t go back to sleep, so I thought I’d go out here and enjoy all of this.” The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, embracing the morning air.

Suddenly, a question pops into your brain, catching Minho’s attention, you ask him, “Hey, where are you and the others washing up if your place’s pipes are broken?” Confused, Minho cocks an eyebrow at you, “What’re you talking about? Our pipes were fixed hours after they were broken.”

This was news to you, “What did you just say?” Getting up from your porch swing, “Did you just say that they were fixed?”

Nodding his head, “I did.”

“That son of a bitch,” you muttered to yourself. The new information changed your perspective on everything. Essentially, Jisung had been freeloading off of you for this entire week, and for what? You didn’t know. All you knew was that Jisung had been increasing your water bill for no reason at all, and that you were going to murder him.

“Minho, why the hell has Jisung been coming over to my house to take showers if your pipes have been fixed for a week now?”

Shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, “I don’t know, maybe it has to do with the fact that your house has you in it and ours doesn’t?”

His response wasn’t the answer that you were expecting. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Separating himself from the railing, he goes on to say, “I think you’re a smart person, Y/n. Figure it out.” Giving you one last smirk, he turns and goes back into the house, leaving you standing outside on your porch looking like an idiot.

It’s been two hours since your conversation with Minho, and you still can’t get over the fact that Jisung has been lying to you this entire time. Looking at the time on your phone, you see that Jisung should be coming over sometime soon. Once he knocked on your doors, you were determined to get an answer out of him.

Five minutes later the sound of knocking can be heard. Getting up from your spot on the couch, you make your way to the door. The sight in front of your eyes as you open the door is Jisung with a bright smile on his face. Seeing his face, you scoff as you walk away from the door. Shutting the door, Jisung says, “Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Actually, I woke up feeling great, that is until I had a little talk with Minho and found out something interesting. Do you want to know what it was?” From the tone of you voice, Jisung had a slight feeling of where this conversation was going. “You talked to Minho hyung? What did you find out?”

“Oh nothing major, just the fact that your pipes have been fixed for a week now.” Jisung avoids your gaze as he thinks of a way to explain the situation to you. “So you see..” His sentence falters.

“Go on.”

Sighing, “Look, I could go on and come up some ridiculous excuse as to why I continued your shower, but I’m sure you wouldn’t like that, so here’s the truth: I like spending time with you, Y/n. After the first morning where you made me pancakes, I thought it was the best way for us hang out and get to know each other. At first I just thought of you as our cute neighbor, and then I saw you with Younghoon at one of our parties, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you. So yeah, you piqued my interest, and I used the situation to my advantage. I’m sorry for not telling you the truth.”

His confession was unexpected to you, but it explains what Minho had meant earlier. You were completely speechless; you didn’t know what to say to Jisung. All the anger that you had previously held disappeared and was replaced by a feeling that you couldn’t describe. Too many thoughts ran through your head, and Jisung could sense it, something that you hated because he always knew your silent cues.

“This is probably too much for you to process this early in the morning, but I just want you to know that you don’t have to reciprocate my feelings or whatever. I just hope that this doesn’t make things awkward between us because like I said, I like hanging out with you, and so do the other guys in the hous, and if you want, I’ll reimburse you the cost for your water bill, just let me know how much it’ll be.” Looking back at the door, he says, “I guess I should go, huh?” till processing the scene, you nod, and without another word Jisung leaves your house.

It’s been a week since you discovered the news about the pipes and Jisung’s feelings, and you’ve managed to avoid seeing any of the frat guys. You didn’t want to ignore them, maybe Jisung, but you just wanted time to process everything, including your feelings for Jisung.

Of course you liked Jisung, he had a great personality, was a funny guy and he was easy on the eyes, but did you romantically like him? That you weren’t sure about. So you tried to think about all the small things that Jisung and even tried to imagine the two of you together.

You had a love/hate relationship with the fact that he could easily read you. You liked it because it meant that you didn’t have to voice things out but hated it because you weren’t sure how he was able to read you. You also liked the fact that things were easy with him because you knew that it was sometimes hard for you to open to people, but with him you didn’t have a problem with it at all. When it came to you thinking of romantic scenarios with him, you weren’t disgusted by the thought of him taking you out on dates, or the two of you cuddling.

Confiding in your best friend, Yeji, you tell her everything, in hopes of her helping you clear your muddy thoughts. “Bestie, it sounds like to me that you like Jisung.”

“Does it?”

Tsking in disapproval, she asks you, “Now why do you sound disappointed Y/n?”

“It’s just that the last time I liked a guy and was in a relationship with hi, he cheated on me, and I just don’t want to get hurt like that again.” Ever since Younghoon you were too scared to get back into the dating scene, and you hate him for ruining things for you.

“Look, I know you’re scared, but you really like Jisung, don’t you?”

You were afraid to admit it to yourself, but you did. “I do, Yeji.”

“Then be with him. For that week that he was constantly in your life, I saw a new side to you. I could tell that you were happier, and that’s all I want for you; to be happy.” At times like this, you were really glad that Yeji was your best friend. You don’t know where you’d be without her.

“You’re right. I should tell him how I feel. The guys are going to have a party tonight, so I’ll go over and talk to him.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so happy for you, Y/n. Oh and just remember that if he hurts you in any way that I’ll happily beat him up for you.” Laughing, you knew that she was serious as she had managed to land a punch on Younghoon’s face when she found out that he cheated on you. “I love you Yeji.”

“I love you too, now go get your mans.”

Later on that day when you entered the frat house, you were determined to proceed with your mission. You walk around the house looking for a particular person. As you wander through the house, you see familiar faces that you haven’t seen in a while. Chan catches your eyes as he DJs and gives you that famous smile of his. You spot a drunk Felix clinging onto Jeongin on the couch. You knew that you were stalling yourself from what you were aiming to do tonight, and with the look that Minho was giving you, he could tell to. Mouthing the words, “Just go for it,” you use his words as encouragement and make your way out to the backyard.

Chan had made it a rule that beer pong was to now only be played outside since the last party resulted in a broken table and a lot up napkins. You kind of appreciated the new rule because it gave you a lot more air to breathe. Shutting the door that led to the backyard, you spot a familiar figure in the middle of a winning game. Not wanting to disturb, what he calls “vibe”, you watch as Hyunjin makes the opponents chug their last cup. Celebrating their win, Jisung and Hyunjin bump their chests together, ‘what a bunch of barbarians,’ you thought to yourself. Your presence doesn’t go unnoticed once the two boys pull away and Hyunjin spots you. Catching Jisung’s attention, he motions towards you, and for the first time that night, the two of you lock eyes.

Using this as your chance to talk to him, the two of you walk towards one another, meeting up in the middle. Unable to look Jisung in the eyes, you focus on the red cup in his hand. “There’s something I want to say to you.” Not saying anything to you in response, Jisung pulls you towards a quieter area, which happened to where a swing set was located.

By the look on your face, Jisung could tell that you were questioning it, “Felix wanted a swing set, and what Felix wants, Felix gets.” Finding the reason quite reasonable you nod your head, and take a seat on the swing, Jisung following in suit.

Gathering your thoughts, you focus on the ground, “Jisung-“

“Y/n-“ The two of you say each other’s name at the same time, awkwardly laughing it off. Jisung motions for you to go first.

Taking a deep breathe, you decide to just tell him the truth, “So I’ve been thinking about everything for the past week, and at first I was just unsure about things, unsure about my feelings for you. Ever since Younghoon and I broke up, I’ve been too scared to get back into a relationship with anyone, fearing that I’m just going to get hurt again. And about a week ago, I had only saw you as a friend, but as I managed to collect my thoughts, I think it’s safe to say that I like you, Jisung.”

Being that one of his skills was to read you, Jisung could tell that it took you a lot to admit this too him, especially the part of your fear. “Y/n, I promise you that I would never do anything to hurt you. I want to be the reason for your happiness, not your tears. The hyungs would kill me if I ever hurt someone like you. Also, you think?”

Shaking your head, “I know that I like you. I also know that I can trust you.” Eyes still on the ground, you hear the sounds of chains rubbing against each other, and you realize that Jisung is now facing you. Softly placing a hand on your hand that was holding onto the chain, he maneuvers you to face him. With his other hand, he places it below your chin, making you lift your head and look him in the eyes, “I think I like this shy side of you.”

“You think?” You ask, repeating his previous question.

Chuckling, he responds, “I know. I also know that I really want to kiss you right now, so Y/n, can I kiss you right now?” Nodding your head, you lean forward towards Jisung. The kiss is short and sweet, and when the two of you pull apart, you hear familiar voices cheer aloud. Turning your heads, you and Jisung realize that you guys had an audience. Too embarrassed you lean forwards and bury your face into Jisung’s chest, something that you didn’t realize you wanted to do until now.

One morning, months after you and Jisung have gotten together, while you were over at the frat house, in the middle of eating breakfast with the boys, Jeongin had ask Jisung, “So in your mind, you thought that by parading around Y/n’s house with nothing but a towel, that they would suddenly be interested in you?”

Shamelessly Jisung responds, “Uh, yeah, and it worked, didn’t it babe?”

Smacking Jisung in the face, you say to him, “You idiot, although I did enjoy the view, your abs aren’t the reason why I like you, but now that I’m thinking about it, they may be the reason why I stayed.” The other guys laugh at your response as Jisung pouts at you. Kissing his pout away, you reassure him that you like everything about him, “Plus I’m your beer pong partner, who else is going to drink everything for me?”

A/n: my fav part while writing this was the first morning Jisung came over, it’s what inspired me to come up with the skz frat series

what do you guys think of the series so far? id love to hear your thoughts & opinions as feedback is always welcomed!

I have a tag list for this series, so pls let me know if you would like to be added to it:)

masterlist

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itsapeterthing · 3 years

Text

Paint || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter sees a figure walking through the trees during his run and investigates only to meet a girl named y/n painting in the woods.

a/n: requested by anon! a short and sweet meeting story.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter was almost regretting his decision to join the Avengers at the moment. Nearly getting himself killed dozens of times by adversaries was nothing compared to the run Cap had him and the other Avengers going on in what he considered to be the middle of nowhere. Although he had superhuman abilities that had definitely aided in his run at the beginning, he could feel himself struggling for air and his legs beginning to ache.

A few of the others had already fallen behind a while back and Peter felt himself about to trip over his own feet as he began to run slower.

“Getting tired?” None other than Steve himself asked, running up behind him.

Peter jumped, but then began to push himself to run faster. “N-no. No sir.” Peter huffed. “This... is... easy.”

Cap eyed Peter. “You should take a breather, kid. There’s no harm in that.”

Although Peter was always one to go out of his way to impress the Avengers- especially Captain America- he could barely breathe and his whole body felt like it was just begging for him to take a break.

“A- are you... sure?” Peter asked in between breaths.

“You know your way back?” Steve asked, matching Peter’s pace.

Peter, running out of breath, no longer able to speak just nodded.

“Alright kid. I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

And with that, he picked up his pace, leaving Peter behind. Peter slowed to a stop and doubled over with his hands on his knees, heaving and struggling for breath. He attempted to salute in Cap’s direction, but he had already run past Peter’s point of view.

Still breathing heavy and exhausted, Peter stumbled over to the side of the road and flopped down on his back onto the grass. He turned his head to the side and as he did he saw a figure making their way through the trees.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “H- hey!” He called, but no one answered.

Peter pulled himself up, balancing himself on his elbows to get a better look before calling again. “Hello?”

After he once again did not receive an answer, he pulled himself onto his feet. He questioned whether he really did see someone or if the figure was just a figment of his imagination. He was unable to ask any of the others for reassurance since they either fell behind a while ago or they were ahead with Steve. Deciding to trust this own instincts, Peter began walking through the woods, using his “Peter tingle” as Aunt May liked to call it, to know where to go.

He stopped when he heard the snap of a twig and the rustling of leaves. Following the noise, he carefully walked over the branches scattered across the ground, not trying to alarm whoever he had just followed into the woods. As he approached where the noise had come from, he stopped and attempted to hide himself behind a tree.

In front of him he saw a girl pulling a chair up and off from the top of a table, onto the ground. He watched as she sat down in the chair, opening the bag at her side and pulling out a pad of paper, along with a tray of what he assumed to be paint and brushes.

He knew he probably should have turned around and that this was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help but watch as she painted. He was lured in by how peaceful she seemed. Around them was a peaceful quiet, with only the sounds of birds and the breeze flowing through the trees able to be heard.

It was so much different than what he had been used to. Even before he discovered that he had superpowers, he had lived in the city and there seemed to never be a moment of complete silence- from sirens at all hours of the day to groups of people chatting outside his window at all hours of the night. He thought he had found peace in the noise, but he had barely known the peacefulness of quiet.

Now that he was Spider-Man, it was even harder to find peace whether he was in the city protecting locals or tagging along with the Avengers to save humanity. He was so busy all of the time, it was difficult for him to find peace and quiet, never mind the serenity he felt around him in this exact moment.

Just as he was becoming lost in his own thoughts, he was pulled out of them by the snapping of a twig beneath his feet. As he did, his eyes went wide and he watched as the unnamed girl, jumped from her seat to her feet, scattering brushes and papers along the ground.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry!” He spoke.

“Who are you?” She asked. “Did you... did you follow me?”

He could tell her heart rate was speeding up, worried that some random boy had followed her into the woods. That’s fair, he thought.

“No!” He said, quickly. “I mean yeah- yes. But not in a creepy way! I just saw someone walk into the woods and I called and no one said anything so I- I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”

She just stared at him.

“You know what? I should go. Yeah. I’m gonna leave you alone.” He said, about to turn around.

“Wait.” She called, finally speaking up and stopping him. “Are you... an Avenger?”

Now his heart was the one racing. “What? No!” He chuckled nervously. “Why... what would make you think that?”

She smiled, pointing at his t-shirt. “Because you have their logo on your shirt and it’s the only place out here for like a mile.”

Peter glanced down at the gray t-shirt he was wearing with the Avengers logo printed across his chest. Quickly, he attempted to spin a lie. “Oh this? No. Nope.” He shook his head. “I just... work... at the Avengers Compound. I... hand out waters and stuff to um Thor and ya know... other... people.”

There was a pause as the they stared at each other.

“I’m Y/n.” You told him, moving your hand out to shake his.

He calmed down as you introduced yourself and your own heart settled, knowing now that you weren’t scared of him- meaning you either believed what he said or just simply accepted his lie about working at the Avengers Compound. It wasn’t a whole lie, he told himself though. He did “work” there and occasionally, as the youngest person there, was asked to fetch water from time to time.

“Peter.” He said, taking your hand. “So... what are you doing out here?”

You then remembered what you had come out here for in the first place. You spun around turning back to look at your set up. “Oh!” You exclaimed. “I come out here sometimes to paint. It's really peaceful, you know?”

Peter nodded. He had just been thinking the same thing before he first saw you. It had been difficult for him to know peace for a long time, but here he felt as though he could breath even if it was for a short time.

“I know what you mean.” He told you, then glancing at the mess he had caused when he first spooked you. “Let me help.” He smiled, gesturing to the paint brushes and loose papers scattered along the floor.

You turned around, looking at the mess behind you. “You don’t have to. It’s okay!” You told him, striding over to your workspace and beginning to haphazardly organize the area.

Despite your assurances that you could clean up yourself, Peter followed behind you and began picking up your scattered paintings on the ground.

“You did all of these yourself?” He asked.

You watched as Peter stared at each of your quick paintings in his hand. He, admittedly, did not understand much about art, but he was in awe at the work he saw in front of him. The paintings he held in his hands depicted what he believed to be fairies sitting light as a feather on flowers and hidden in the trees. The design itself was soft and gentle and he was afraid to ruin something so precious in his hands.

“Yeah,” You chuckled.

“They’re really good.” He told you, impressed. “I wish I could do stuff like this. How do you even do this?”

You smiled. A part of you was always nervous showing your paintings to someone else, especially a stranger, but it made you feel warm inside to have this cute, sweaty boy complimenting you on your art and impressed with your skill.

“Everyone has their thing.” You told him. “What about you?”

Peter then thought about his abilities, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t divulge on his strengths without the risk of exposing his identity. Although he couldn’t share that part of himself with you- someone he just met- it made him remember who he was without his abilities- the skills and talents he possessed without the assistance of an accidental spider bite.

“My friend and I build lego sets.” He shrugged.

“That can’t be it.” You laughed. “Come on! What are things you’re good at?”

Peter hadn’t been asked that question in regards to just himself in a while. He felt that people only cared about him recently because he was Spider-Man, not because he was Peter Parker. It felt good for someone to care about him for more than the things he couldn’t control.

“Sciency stuff I guess.” He told you as the two of you stood up and he handed you back your paintings.

You smiled, accepting the pages back and placing them on the table. “See! And you thought you weren’t good at anything.”

Peter smiled before scratching the back of his neck. “So... do you always hang out here in your free time?”

You sat back in your chair, this time organizing your desk space again. You placed your current work-in-progress in front of you and set out your paints. Taking a brush from one of those scattered across the table and dipping it in your desired color you laughed. “Not all the time. Why do you ask?”

Peter felt himself stiffen up. He knew why, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. It wasn’t often he met new people and felt comfortable enough around them, but around you, there was a carefree air. Although he had barely learnt anything about you besides your name and your inclination for painting in the wilderness, he wanted to learn more about you.

“Oh... well... you know...” He began. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? Not in the woods I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just- you know-”

At that he heard the strokes of your brush halt on the page as you lifted it and set it down in the glass of water in front of you. You turned back in your chair to look at him, leaning your arm over the back of it. “Like a date?” You asked, cutting him off.

Even though Peter had been through a lot that most teenagers his age had never experienced- that some would even claim required an excessive amount of bravery- he still got flustered when you asked him whether it was a date or not. He thought you were interesting and wanted to get to know you regardless. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in going on a date with you, but he also didn’t want to risk facing rejection and embarrassment.

What do you have to lose? He asked himself.

“I’m sorry if that was forward-” You began as he took a bit longer than you had anticipated for him to answer.

“Yeah. Like a date.” He cut you off. “If you want to anyway... you don’t have to.”

For what felt like the hundredth time since you first met him a few minutes ago, you smiled. “I’d like that.”

And with that you and Peter exchanged numbers before he insisted you go back to painting and that people would begin looking for him soon if he didn’t get back to his run. When his feet hit the road to start running again, he felt a new bolt of energy and pride rush through him as he thought about the cool painter girl’s number he had just gotten in the woods and the date he would share with you that upcoming weekend.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x yn

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mitsukui · 3 years

Text

put your lips like this | f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader.

Summary: there is a secret buried inside your heart that is keeping you from going to the Yule Ball. However, Fred decides to be the greatest of friends and teach you one thing or two.

Word Count: 2.1k - oops...

Warnings: none! Just a whole lot of fluff! ✨ Oh, there is a curse word towards the ending.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS, BABIES! *aggressively listens to ‘My Boo’, by Usher and Alicia Keys*. Not to be dramatic, but James Phelps with long hair could punch me right in the face, and I would thank him. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention! ♡

Masterlist!

“You know I’m good at keeping secrets, so just tell me already! C’mon, tell me why you don’t want to go to the Yule Ball.”

A heavy and utterly annoyed sigh left your lips. Fred Weasley – that prick! – had been tormenting you the entire day. You knew he was a curious soul, but you had never imagined he would try so hard to make you spill one of your secrets out.

It was not something you fancied sharing; actually, it was something that made you feel rather pathetic and embarrassed. How could you tell your friend, whom you had unexpectedly developed feelings for, that you had never been kissed?

Curiosity and anticipation were emanating from his figure as he whispered soft ‘tell me’s, and moved anxiously on his chair. You fidgeted with the quill in your hand before you sighed once more. It did not seem like he was going to give up on solving that mystery any time soon. “Alright, fine. I will tell you. But only if you promise you will act as if nothing had ever happened.”

“Pinky promise!” He immediately dropped his own quill and extended his right hand towards you, his little finger waiting up to be intertwined with yours. Your eyes studied his hand, and you did not fail to notice how big and veiny they were.

Oh, Godric, the voice that took form of your consciousness echoed in your head, this boy is going to be the death of me.

Reluctantly, you closed your textbook and put your quill down on the wooden table, these two actions being followed by the connection between your fingers. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, the similarity to a little boy that he carried in his behavior causing you to chuckle. However, your good spirits soon vanished away when you came to the realization you now had to tell him the truth. You had never been good at lying, for all it mattered.

He beamed widely at you, and he had his ears ready to capture all the words that were about to slip from your lips. But nothing was coming out of them, and a slight impatience resulted in his eyebrows being furrowed together. Fred went back to whispering words to hurry you into opening up, and the situation just overwhelmed your inexperienced heart.

It was all too much: you could not bear with the fact that he was staring so intensely at you, nor with the fact that you were about to tell him you saw yourself as a ridiculously stupid teenager who had never felt a pair of lips brushing against their own.

“I don’t really know how to do the whole…kissing thing. And I refuse to go to the Yule Ball because of it, given that chances of being kissed by your date are high.”

Your confession came out as a train losing its track – fast, unruly and through gritted teeth. Although you were deeply ashamed of that part of you, his face expressed the total opposite of any of your feelings.

His eyebrows were still furrowed together, but now scoff dripped from his words. “Yeah, right. And George is more handsome than me.”

You could swear your heart skipped a beat at that moment. Blinking in the rawest surprise your body could internally gather, you stared at him and waited for him to say anything else. You were lost for words. How could he not believe you?

“I mean, you’re incredibly beautiful. And I know you have a few people interested in you.” When you raised an eyebrow at his latter words, he was quick to snap back at you. “I’ve noticed how that Ravenclaw boy looks at you.”

Even though there was an inconspicuous blush tainting your face due to his compliments, you waved his words off and laughed shyly. He probably was just acting nice towards you. That was a huge characteristic of the Weasley family – being raised by an amazing woman like Molly herself made such a thing come out naturally.

You remained quiet for a few moments, your heart beating fast in your chest and your eyes staring out the library windows. You still had a hard time believing you had just confessed your deepest secret to your love interest, but it was of no use crying over spilt milk. If he were one to keep his promises, one of your rare studying sessions with Fred Weasley would soon return to normal.

But what if he started pitying you for it? Or what if he stopped talking to you, once he concluded your universes did not collide? He surely was vastly experienced when it came down to kissing. Kissing Fred Weasley would probably be the biggest honor of your life.

Unconsciously, your eyes left the windows and roamed the surroundings until they reached his lips. It was almost as if the whole world had stopped.

Fred had thin lips, but they seemed to be astonishingly soft for someone who caused as much trouble as he did. His upper lip was subtly curved, and you were mesmerized by every single little detail you could visually grasp. That moment would haunt your thoughts for a long time, once it was pure cruelty how you had fallen out of love – the one you loved did not love you back.

But you were terribly wrong about that. Fred had been experiencing some shifts on his feelings towards you lately. He had watched you blossom into a charming young girl, and there was something about you hitting hard on his heart. And, frankly speaking, after he caught you looking at his lips, he would be in heaven if he ever got the chance to kiss you.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He helped you gather all of your belongings with a gentle smile hanging on his lips and, once more, you swore your heart was melting away over everything he did.

As you walked out of the library together, dipped in a somewhat agonizing silence, you felt his fingers brushing against yours, which caused you to instantly look at him. “Can I hold your hand while we walk?”

Holy moly, what did he just say? Your consciousness was again alarmed at the scenario taking place right in front of your eyes. Okay. Keep calm. Don’t freak out.

“Y-Yeah, I guess.”

He did not waste any time on ending the ridiculously small distance between your hands. However, he did not simply hold your hand in his; he intertwined your fingers together, and gave your hand a light squeeze. His eyes fell upon you, and his gorgeous smile grew wider. You could not help but smile along.

You continued on walking together in silence, the only tangible thing between you and Fred being the tiny circles his thumb drew on your skin. If it were possible to describe your feelings, one would choose the talk about fireworks, or waves violently crashing on rocks on a breathtaking beach.

He unquestionably would be the death of you.

He tugged on your hand once you stopped in a deserted hallway. There was something astounding about the fact that he was able to find a calm and quiet place on Hogwarts, but he had always been like a box full of surprises to you. And he was also really good at knowing all the best places in the castle.

You smiled at him, the riddle he was presenting filling your chest with amusement. “What are we doing here?” All of the terrors you felt earlier returned to you, and you felt like withdrawing. “Wait. We are not here so you can lecture me on kissing, right?! Because, if we are, I would very much like to lea-“

Fred abruptly shushed you, stepping closer to your body and gently pushing your back against a wall. His eyes darted up and down your face, and he grinned cunningly down at you. He was so much taller than you, and the sight of him towering over you was quite intimidating.

“I’m gonna be your kissing instructor.”

Bitch, said what?! Your eyes widened in shock, his fingers reached out to place a lock of hair behind your ear, and your biggest wish was to evaporate. With your head shaking vigorously, and your lips being pressed together in a disappearing line, you exclaimed you would never accept that.

You could never allow physical intimacy to destroy your friendship with Fred Weasley. It was better to have him as a friend than not having him at all.

He found your actions to be absolutely adorable, the desire to consume your innocence growing bigger and bigger each second. “I’m only trying to help you out, y’know. If that Ravenclaw boy is not willing to claim these luscious lips, I sure am.”

Your cheeks erupted in a dark red shade, and you looked away from him, unable to take it for any longer. He was now evidently playing with your feelings, and you did not know how to deal with his attitude.

You were torn apart between accepting his kiss and pushing him away. It could go two ways: you would either kiss him and dismiss all of your feelings and expectations, or you would fall even harder for him. You were not exactly leaning towards neither option.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.” He murmured his confession as he briefly dodged his eyes from your face as well. It was unusual to see the great Fred Weasley embarrassed but, apparently, it was happening right in your face. “So, please, let me be your first kiss. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Your gaze moved back to him and he also had a light pink flush on his cheeks. He looked painfully handsome at that moment, with his freckles splattered all over his skin, and his lips trembling slightly. Your eyes met, and both of you smiled timidly. You were swooning.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated your monosyllabic answer and nodded a bit, mostly to himself, assuring he would finally feel his lips on his. “I’m gonna put my hands on your hips now.”

And he did. Both of his hands ghosted over your body until they reached your hips. He pulled you a little bit closer to his chest, and his scent tickled your nose. You felt like electrical waves were rushing through your entire body, and you wondered how you had managed not to faint.

“Look, do what I’m doing.” Fred parted his lips slightly and tilted his head to his left side a bit, his eyelashes fluttering until he finally closed his eyes. He looked heavenly, but you could never admit that and put yourself into an even more vulnerable position.

An almost inaudible snicker rang in his ears, and he soon opened his eyes and looked at you. You confessed he looked quite silly like that, but he ignored your comment and ordered you to mimic him again. His voice was low and his warm breath hit your face gently. You finally obeyed, feeling all jittery and anxious.

You looked captivating in his eyes, and he was ready to show you how amazing a tad of intimacy could be.

He leaned down, bringing your lips together in an extremely slow brush against each other. “Put your lips like this.” And, a second time, you did as he told you to, copying all of his actions.

It did not take long for him to finally involve your uneasy lips with his own. He started out by giving small pecks onto your skin, but his hunger got too big and he demanded more.

Your small silhouette was pressed even harder to his body, and he touched your lower lip with his tongue, asking for permission to feel more of you. Your attempts to continue moving according to him went on, and you thought it was a good sign he had not stopped you yet.

Once the velvet-feeling of his tongue came in touch with yours, he groaned against your lips, which caused you to use both of your hands to hold onto his robes tightly.

The kiss went on for a few more moments until you and Fred were breathless, and you had to break away to learn how to cope with oxygen again.

It was difficult to find words to talk about whatever had just happened, but you mumbled a shy ‘thank you’, which he replied to with ‘don’t mention it’.

Kissing was not as horrible as you thought it would be.

And, after all, maybe going to the Yule Ball could be quite nice if you had enough luck to get Fred Weasley to be your date and kiss you again.

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #🌼 — personal: writings

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

been a while since i posted a fic update! anyone wanna read some cowboy au nonsense? sure you do! well here it is

The blinding, unforgiving midday heat is enough to raise blisters on the skin. Looking out over a crowd of folks booing him, calling for his demise, probably should have had some kind of emotional impact. On the occasion of one’s death, after all, one does expect tears. Flowers, laid out in lace, dark veils and coal black clothes, a few muffled sobs from those further back in the funerary procession, unable to contain themselves. Instead he’s met with the dusty faces of former neighbors and strangers alike, all eagerly waiting to hear the exact tone and pitch that his neck will make when it snaps.

Bored, he turns his attention from the crowd, and watches a lizard scurry across the wooden planks of the gallows, as a man to his right fits a rough bit of rope around his neck. It scratches, but he doesn’t react, not feeling frightened or even especially interested. A similar rough twine is binding his hands together behind his back, keeping him from having any viable way to save himself. The crowd is calling for blood now. Hangings generally are not gorey affairs, but he did once see a drop too sudden and a rope so long that the fella wasn’t just hung, he was decapitated. Beetlejuice glances back down at the crowd, tries to imagine what direction his head would roll if that happened here, and smirks, because it seems to him the last thing he’d see would be the view from inside the skirts of some of the women standing front and center. Not the worst last sight a man could have. “You think you could hurry this along?” he asks the man fitting the noose around his neck. “Sun’s beatin’ down somethin’ fierce an’ I ain’t got my hat.” His personal possessions are back at the sheriff’s office- hat, bandana, silver plated, pearl handled pistol, and his custom belt buckle, just about the nicest, and maybe only, thing he ever paid for. God damn corrupt lawman’s probably gonna pawn his stuff as soon as he’s swinging. Maybe before. Maybe his last worldly possessions are already gone. S’not like he’ll need them, where he’s goin.

A face he recognizes is led up from the crowd, an ancient wizened body tanned for years by the all too eager sunlight and scorching sands. It’s the local preacher, who he remembers from his formative years. The old man used to give him bread and plain, unseasoned chicken in return for listening to him talk about god, and if he hadn’t been nearly starved to death half the time, he might have spat in the old man’s face. Shouldn't charity be done for the sake of charity, not proselytizing? He’d said so once, and that was the last meal the old miser had given him. Jackass.

“Beetlejuice,” the preacher begins. His name is said with disdain and a curled upper lip. It’s one of the reasons he chose it, honestly. “You still have time to repent, young man. I remember you, as a child, bright eyed, curious about the kingdom of heaven.” Well now, that’s the very definition of taking artist liberty. “Now, here, you have one more chance to repent, to accept god’s mercy, and avoid the lake of fire.” The crowd is watching, waiting to see if he will confess his remorse. Beetlejuice hums, rocks on the balls of his feet, and then sighs. “.. C’mere,” He mumbles, jerking his head to indicate the old man should step closer. The holy man does. “I got a lot to confess to, preacher man, an’ not much time.” His voice is soft. The ailing man can’t hear him, steps closer, if only a little. “So much to confess to, in fact, I oughta just… Skip th’ whole thing an’ go straight to hell!” And Beetlejuice reels back, and then slams his forehead into the old man’s face. The sickeningly satisfying crunch of cartilage tells him he’s broken the preacher’s nose, as the elderly man falls back, crying out in pain, blood gushing from his new wound. The crowd roars, furious, and he grins, and laughs. “Ain’t no good extendin’ your pious pity to me!” he calls, gleeful, as he’s pelted with whatever the people watching can get their hands on, and the old man is helped, taken away, led off of the platform. “Enough, enough, we will have order!” a lawman cries, coming up the gallow steps, to stand in front of the outlaw. It’s enough to get the crowd to settle, or at least stop throwing things. There’s still a bad energy in the air, which Beetlejuice can taste on the tip of his tongue. His smile is rictus, he’s delighted to be the cause of it all.

“This man has been tried and found guilty,” the lawman continues. The trial had been very short, and his incarceration shorter. He understands he’s being made an example of to other outlaws, bandits, and trouble makers. They intentionally didn’t give him any time to plan anything, or for any coconspirators to come and assist him. Joke’s on them. They could have taken all the time in the world. Ain’t nobody alive who cares for this outlaw. Not a soul who would dare to come and stage a rescue. He’s utterly alone. “He’s allowed his last words. Clearly,” the lawman turns, eyes Beetlejuice, who smiles flirtatiously. The other man’s expression shifts from annoyance to disgust. “He’s disavowed the advice of Pastor Neighbors.” “M’not so sure you’re usin’ that word right, friend,” Beetlejuice snorts, but he’s ignored. “Any last words?” the hangman to his right asks, his hand itching to grip the lever that will drop the floor and finally, finally, release the outlaw from the confines of mortal life.

Beetlejuice grins.

“If any of you have a message for th’ devil, give it to me!” he shouts, with a cackle, and he watches in rapt and morbid delight at the way the faces in the crowd twist. “I’ll carry it down to hell for you!” The crowd is furious enough it almost seems to him they’re going to storm the platform, and maybe beat him to death. The wave of gasps from the women folk is particularly amusing.

“Enough of this!” He hears the voice of the lawman, disgusted, and the hangman must agree, because the last thing he hears is the lever being thrown, and the floor gives out under him, and he’s falling, falling, falling.

His ass hits a chair.

There’s a moment of blinded confusion, because he's gone from the unbearable dusty sun of midday California, to a cool, dark, musty smelling interior. His eyes need a moment to adjust to the change. He’s sitting in a room he doesn’t recognize. The chair under him is plush, but just thin seated enough to be a tad uncomfortable. He squirms in it, confused, and finds his hands are still tied behind his back. He turns his head. Seated across from him is a young woman.. Well, little girl might be more accurate, she’s maybe fourteen. There’s a wicked looking hoofprint emblazoned on her right temple. The blood that’s leaking from the wound has gone a sickly old color. They stare at each other. “Did that hurt?” she asks, first, and he squints, because he’d been about to ask the same question. Her hand has gone to her throat, as she looks at him, and he looks down, pressing his fat face into his fat neck to create an unflattering double chin as he does so. He can feel the rope around his neck. He follows the line of it with his eyes, and turns to look up. The rope travels up from him, into the ceiling. It’s still taught, like he’s suspended by it, but his ass is touching chair, his boots are on the ground, and he doesn’t feel choked by it’s presence. He tuts. “Didn’t feel a thing. That hurt?” he tries to gesture to her wound, but again, he’s reminded his hands are bound behind him. She stands. “Hurt a bit, but then I got so dizzy I didn’t hardly feel it, after,” she tells him, and then, like the good little frontierswoman she is, she produces a knife from inside some pocket in the volume of her skirts, and gratefully, he leans forward. She rests a knee on one of the chairs, to get a better angle, as she uses her bowie to cut through the rope at his wrists. “Awful kind of you, half pint,” he tells her, and she smiles. “Ain’t nothin.” She settles into the chair next to him, which is a little surprising, but he doesn’t mind, over all. “You’re an outlaw, then?” she asks. He grunts, and then turns to face her, with a grin. “You probably heard of me. They called me Th’ Ghost, on occasion, cause I could slip away without bein’ caught-” he watches her eyes travel up the line of his noose, and then settle back on his face, a little less impressed than she ought to be. He responds by pinching her nose, and she swats at his hand, and laughs. “I do think I heard of you,” she concedes. “I’m Presley.” “Presley, alright. You got a clue where we are, kiddo?” “I just was told to wait.” “Told by who?”

Across the room, a window he hadn’t registered as being there slides open. This place vaguely resembles a bank, he realizes, and so that means that’s the teller’s window. A woman with a tired expression on a pretty face peers out at him. “Hey, dead beat,” she calls, her accent thick around the words. “Juno wants to see you.” He motions to himself, questioningly. She raises an eyebrow in silent confirmation. “Should I care?” he asks, and her upper lip curls in the most beautiful version of a sneer he’s ever seen. “You’re real funny. Get in there before she loses her temper.” And she reaches up, and slams the window shut.

He looks to Presley, and they both share a little shrug, before he stands, and takes a step. The rope going through the ceiling moves with him, not along any visible track, that he can see, but seeming rather more like a toy balloon on a string, bobbing along as though after a child winding their way through the crowd of a state fair. There’s a door by the teller’s window, and he makes for it, only for the window to slide open again, and that beautiful face to reappear. She looks him over, not seeming particularly impressed, but also not outright cruel. “Where’s your handbook?” she asks. Beetlejuice tilts his head. It lolls a little comically to one side, presumably because his neck is broken. She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t bring your handbook?” “Listen, lady, even if I had whatever book you’re talkin about, I couldn’t read it,” he counters, and she pauses, at that. “Illiterate. Of course. What’s even the point of the handbook when so many folks can’t read it?” she mutters to herself, and then she waives him at the door, the conversation apparently over. Alright.

The door, predictably, leads to a hallway, a bit unlike anything he’s ever seen before, in terms of sheer length of the thing. It twists around like a snake, and the number of doors along the hall leads him to believe wherever he is, it’s massive. The hallway is empty, save for a man at the far end, mopping, and there doesn’t seem to be anything around for him to tuck into his pockets. Too bad, he mopes, as he carries himself down the hall, boots clacking in a way he finds tactile and pleasant. He passes the custodian, who stares at the floor behind him and sighs, and Beetlejuice looks back to see a mess of dusty footprints he’s left on a previously slightly damp but otherwise pristine floor. With a snort, he spits into the bucket of mop water, and the other man jumps back, disgusted, as Beetlejuice cackles, and continues his leisurely walk down the hall.

At a certain point he realizes he’s got no idea where he’s going, but it doesn’t especially matter. Wherever he is now, whatever version of the afterlife this is, because clearly, that’s what this is, it doesn’t seem to be fire and brimstone and all that bullshit, so he takes it easy, opening doors at random and peeking through. The things he sees don’t always make sense to him, feel like they’re out of place from the world as he knows it. He opens one door, and suddenly he’s staring at what must be a city, but the buildings are so tall they’re touching the sky, going up past the clouds, up into the heaven he doesn’t believe can really be up there. The people are dressed strangely, men and women wandering around in little more than underclothes, which he likes, instantly, and the streets are black with painted yellow lines, instead of dust and earth. Some kind of metal.. Something, a trolley without a track, moves on it’s own down the street, and he catches a glimpse of faces inside. He gets lost in the contents of this door, staring for a long time, entranced, and then it’s slammed suddenly. He turns, catches sight of the custodian with his hand on the door, and growls, an animalistic sound he didn’t know he could do. And then he stops, and turns to look, because the custodian is still a ways behind him, mopping with spit water. It’s the same man. “You don’t need to go poking your snout into places it doesn’t belong,” the man says, simply, and then in a blink, both versions of him are gone from the hallway. Maybe that’s just an… afterlife thing.

He reaches, after what feels like a boring and dragging eternity of twenty whole minutes, a set of saloon doors, the swinging kind. There’s a void of blackness behind them, but the draw he feels is unmistakable, and he pushes them open, and walks through. Instead of a room black as ink, he finds himself… standing on the wooden porch of a bar he remembers frequenting fairly often, in his younger days. At least, he has clear memories of walking into the bar. How and when and why he ended up outside of it, well… whiskey has a hell of an effect on a man’s memory. It’s a fairly chilly desert night. The chirping of crickets and the long ways away lonely baying of a dog is a sort of familiar comfort, but god damn it, he’s just left this world. He wasn’t intending on coming back to it, ever. The dusty streets are dim, illuminated only by the moon, the stars, and the few lamps still burning in windows. The town is quiet.

On the dirt road in front of him is a woman, staring at him. She’s small, older, nicely dressed, with hair shorter than he’s ever seen on a lady, and a mouth sort of like a toad, long and downturned. There’s an unlit cigarette between her fingers. She’s watching him, curious and apathetic all at once. He returns the look. “Juno, then?” he grunts, stepping off the porch. No dust lifts when his boots hit the unpaved road, which he notes. Maybe he’s not really here. Maybe he’s a ghost. Fitting.

“Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth,” she says, as he comes to stand in front of her. “Took you long enough. You realize I’ve been waiting here for days. You get lost, or something?” Her tone is sharp, like a schoolmarm with too much on her hands and not enough energy for it all. He feels a little sheepish, if only because no, he hadn’t realized that. “Gimme a break,” he says, instead of an apology. “I just died.” “Like that makes you special,” she huffs, and then, waving her unlit cigarette in his face, machine rolled, not hand, he notes, she asks, “Have you got a match?” He produces one from one of the many pockets of his moss green duster, strikes it on his thumb, and holds it up for her. She has the decency to look grateful, as she leans in, cigarette to her lips, and lights it from that little flame. “So,” she exhales smoke, and it curls from the corner of her lips, and out a previously unspotted slash to her throat. No wondering how she died, then. Speaking of, he glances up, to see that his noose is no longer floating above his head, and turning, he catches sight of it dragging on the ground behind him, long and snake-like in the way it’s twisted and coiled. Juno snaps her long red nails in his face, brings his attention back to her. “You weren’t supposed to die, you know. You’ve mucked things up for me.” “Whut?” he grunts, a bit thrown. She rubs her temples. “You were supposed to go in your seventies. Catch tuberculosis and wither away in obscurity. How old are you?” “Thirty four, or abouts,” he croaks, and she takes another drag. “You let yourself be caught,” she accuses. Well.. yeah. But how the hell does she know that? “I got pinned down in a shootout. Lucky they didn’t blow my head off, right then.” “You’ve gotten out of worse.” She looks almost.. Disappointed. “And then you put down your weapons, instead of fighting it out.” “I was surrounded.” “You were sloppy.” “What’s it to you, anyway?” he growls, again low and animalistic, which Juno ignores, as she walks circles around him, studying him. “You let yourself be caught, and you let yourself be hung. You didn’t even try to get away. You might not have killed yourself, but you let them kill you, for you,” she says. “And it’s giving me a hell of a time, both because it’s changed you, and because I have to put you somewhere, Beetlejuice, and now no one knows where you should go.” “So what does that mean?” “It means, my little statistical outlier, that you’re going to be staying up here, probably a lot broader a time than it would have taken you to just live your life and die at seventy,” she sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “Which is a shame. Because.. I was looking forward to.. To you. And now we both have to wait longer,” and here, she finishes her circle of him, to stand face to face with him again, and she flicks his ear, the way he always imagined an frustrated mother might. “Because you gave up. You weren’t supposed to give up.” “Wasn't much worth livin’ for,” he says, and it’s got more emotion behind it than he meant to give it. Juno’s hand goes to her throat, and she looks pained. “I guess that’s an inherited trait,” her voice is soft, and he squints at her, confused. Instead of giving him any context for that, she points down the dusty main road. Shining under the moonlight, he can see, vaguely, a dark shape suspended in air, near the gallows. “Go put your suit back on,” she says dryly. “And try not to cause enough trouble that I have to come up here and get after you, understood?” “What part of outlaw ain’t you gettin?” he snorts, and she responds by giving him an affectionate pat to his scruffy cheek, before she takes another drag, and vanishes inside the swirling smoke. He’s left standing on his own.

His “suit” is still hanging, he notes, looking up at himself. He’s strung up on a tall pole by the platform, leaving it free for more use, if need be, with his body on display as a gruesome reminder for potential criminals that this is a hanging town, and they’ve even hung their most despised son. His neck is bent at an ugly angle, a little bulge at the side betraying how exactly his bones had shattered, and his skin has gone a bad color, gray and foul looking. But aside from that, he’s not rotted the way he would think he ought to be. Juno’d said she’d been waiting for days, presumably meaning it has been days since his death, but his body is looking remarkably unbuzzard pecked and unrotted. He shimmies up the pole he’s hung from, his ghostly noose trailing behind him, and the moment he touches his own boot, the world spins, going upside down and inside out in a way that’s too painful to try and perceive.

“Gahh-” says Beetlejuice, because he’s back in his body, which is still being hung by that god damn noose, and he realizes, annoyed, that he has no way of cutting himself down. He kicks, pointlessly, one hand going to the rope at his neck, to clutch it and try to keep it from choking himself again, and the other grabbing at the rope further up, gripping it to pull himself up, give himself some slack, instead of hanging taught. It’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been. At least there’s no one around to watch him struggle.

“Holy shit, the body’s movin!” he hears someone holler. Oh, come on.

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#beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fic #beetlelands fic #my writing #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice the musical #this is so self indulgent #i love westerns so this is all i can focus on rn

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