#coffee dad is a SHAM

[l0mljeonjungkook]

Lost & Found | knj x reader

➤ Summary - eight years beside him were nothing but a roller coaster ride. Being a single mother wasn't easy, but your best friend, Kim Namjoon made your way smooth. You never knew you felt something for him until you read his diary, which you weren't supposed to read ever. What will you do, if not only you but Hyeon, your baby, and your best friend Namjoon, wants the same, what you desired for so long?

➤ Pairing - Namjoon x reader

➤ Genre - fluff, smut, angst

➤ Warnings - 18+ unprotected sex, grinding, lovemaking, explicit sex, confessions, hickeys +more.

➤ Word count - 9.6k+

"When are you getting spliced?" you questioned him while wiping off Hyeon's face daubed with the ice cream all over his mouth.

"y/n why do you ask the exact question every dinner night!! besides I'm better off alone." He pointed at you with the chopsticks in his hand.

"What? I have a license to interrogate, a license called best friends since uh--", you count on your fingertips and Hyeon laughs at you catching a glimpse of you amounting to something on your fingertips, "since seven years, yaah!! after all, you're diving into the 28th year of your life, Mr. Kim!!" You chuckle a pure sham chuckle.

"Hyeon, tell your mom, to concentrate on her food." He instructs Hyeon, who's heartily licking his fingers overlaid with ice cream yet his almond-shaped hazel eyes, are shaded with a craving for more ice cream, and mischievous eyes spot chocolate ice cream on the table.

"Hyeon is bored with mom and you", you both crack up.

You look back at the man sitting opposite you, "No, but seriously, when are you jumping on to propose Ji-a, enough of coffee dates now! I want you to start a family", you didn't ask, you implored, however, honestly you don't understand why.

"Coffee dates?? Are you-- insane? Coffee dates?? I never really got into such dates with her, if you ask me!! Who the hell told you so?" He blurted but instantly looked at Hyeon as if the kid heard his shoot voice and shut his eyes, "I'm sorry y/n, I didn't mean to shout out loud at you. Just to be transparent with you I'm currently not seeing anyone nor will see anyone in the future. And if you got your answer then let's leave, I'll drop you two."

You honestly don't get, why he gets so pissed off with your question.

"No, Hyeon needs more ice creams"

"Baby, no--"

"Which flavor my angel wants?" He questioned Hyeon, with fondness in his eyes.

"Chocolate one"

Barely a minute ago he was ready to drop you two home but isn't it obvious, that his love for Hyeon is out of the world?

"Why do you get so painfully angry about your marriage"

"Cause I don't want to!!!"

"Mom--"

"She's a nice--"

"Mom mom--"

"Yes baby", you wiped his face again.

"Mom I want you to get married to my friend" he announced, eyes on his ice cream.

You chuckled, looking at the man sitting opposite of you, "friend?"

"Yaa mom, Namjoon, he's good mom, then I'll tell everyone that my friend is my dad too." He giggles, and you both can only ignore him.

This question caught you off-guard. It startled you but it wasn't unfamiliar. You have been subjected to this question by none other than you, yourself. It didn't amaze you that much but what shook you was - the man himself in front of you.

It's been five days to be precise, since the last dinner on Saturday night you haven't heard from him. It's the sixth day, Friday morning, you couldn't sleep the entire night, questions eating your inner soul because Namjoon your best friend for 8 years, phones you every morning before you drop Hyeon to school and whether you said no to him for conceivably thousands of time, that you'll drop your kid to school, he still expects perhaps one day you'll let him, but latterly he ain't called you once. And you vow to yourself if today too he won't, you'll despite everything.

Kim Namjoon, where will you inaugurate him? There's only a beginning point, and you could purely start word-for-word about him but no final page for his efforts, love, respect, and support for you, it's something you have been subjected to a lot of instances where his efforts, love, care, and support for you only increased tripartite. There's only an open door in your heart for him but closed when he carved his room in there, and now he's been living there for 8 years.

How you two met was indeed one of the two, best parts, of that university.

You two met at New York University 8 years ago to be exact, both from the same place Ilsan in Goyang, Seoul, South Korea, albeit never met each other, registered for the same program in uni, attended the same classes, but never spoke to each other. It was one day when you dashed to the class and took a seat beside him, horrified by the professor that if he didn't let you in like the other day he did with one of your class fellows, but the sigh of solace left your lips when you saw your professor was late for the first time in 3 months, hah!

You're somebody who never initiates a conversation with someone whether known or unknown, and you would have never known him if he wouldn't offer you his bottle of water, "Drink it, the professor would be late fifteen minutes", you were zoned out until you heeded his deep baritone voice which startled you. You blinked owlishly when you saw his hand stretched out the bottle in front of you.

"Thank you", barely two words you managed to choke out, after taking two sips, you handed the bottle back to him. Still today you laugh at your naivety, how you treated him the first day you two met, though you two used to gawk at each other, yet never persuaded to exchange a word or two. But you remember how your inner self lauded the Lord, for arriving late to the class. If In case you were on time that day maybe... You'd have perched on your regular seat, and again you two would have been eyeing each other from east to the west of your class, and never would have been friends. That was day one of your friendship.

"Uh-- sorry but would you mind walking with me to the library, umm after this class," taking a view of the watch on his wrist as he puffs out a breath, "uh, Just for the group project, if you already are in some group then there's no rub. I'm still looking for a group--"

"Oh, no issue, I can connect y'know", why are you feeling so diffident in front of him, looking everywhere but him, tracing circles on your palm midst talking to him, "I-- uh I too am not in any bunch, so let's do this then?" You harrumph, rubbing your sweaty palms on your thighs.

And you smack your head and snappily shut your eyes at the remembrance, of how shy you were beside him, but not now, now you two are akin to birds of a feather flock together.

"Great, then," he said with a dimpled smile.

His dimpled smile from ear to ear and the dips on his cheeks, and the crinkles near his crescent eyes looked so adorable on him. Not to mention his eyes are like a crescent moon, you could even draw his picture with closed eyes. The picture of his face is engraved in the back of your head.

Those days with Namjoon were flooded with solace, giggles, and serenity until one glossy day turned grey when you met Hyeon's father - Jace, at that university the first and last awful and guiltiest memory at uni.

But why are you even calling him your child's father, ever he said was, one thing for your kid, that he's not his. No, not again this pang in your chest.

You met Jace in the second year of your university. Not to mention the initial months of your relationship with him were all glitter and gold. You both enjoyed your university life like a grad student usually does. Being at frat parties was a new norm for a girl from a small town. Being at pubs, getting some Dutch courage, getting totally jaked at those darty parties, and not least of all out for the count.

Honestly, you're not confident about all those darty party nights with Jace, the negative behaviour of yours, a post-break syndrome after being utterly drunk as you fail to remember the night's episodes. But where you still hung up on is Namjoon never attended such parties, maybe because Jace was with you and protected you? Perhaps he never preferred Jace because of his d2 group in Namjoon's words - douchebag drunkard group, who either would be bathing in alcohol or would be soliciting some women in pubs or frat parties.

So your only best friend wanted to stay off from you and your nerd ex like rigidly stayed away by a country mile.

It's been 5 years since Hyeon's birth which adds, that you never met your ex ever again, what you went through after Jace became acquainted with the fact that you were pregnant, still haunts you. Not that you never wanted Hyeon, but after your ex was subjected to the reality that you were pregnant, he cut all the cords with you. Jace left you, made up the false assumptions in his mind, about you're not pregnant because of him, no, no you recall back to his words by heart - "This ain't my kid, it's your best friend's or whoever you're sleeping with, WHORE!!" The ache earned by the slap of his words is still in your heart, he chuckled, dark eyes wandering over your body, and left. Making all the promises void leaving your heart barren. But you wished for once his words were true, about Namjoon as your child's father.

You look at Hyeon sleeping soundly beside you, he so looks akin to his father by his looks but his heart is purely like Namjoon. He looks so glorious just like sunshine whirled your miserable life into a garden full of lifelike and scented blooms. Jace only gave you awful memories - nightmares, but your baby is the best gift, and besides the tragic past with Jace, everything fades away with Hyeon and Namjoon by your side.

You are grateful to your best friend that he never gave up on you and stayed with you in the rain and shine, life is not always about sunshine and glitters but with him, it really was and still is!!

Whether Namjoon isn't your child's father, he never lets you feel like you would ever need Jace. Driving you to the hospital, discussing your health with her, eyeing your every med, not letting you attend the classes, even writing notes for you. Who so ever will marry him, gonna be a lucky girl, he's the ideal man. You never felt you were a single parent of your child, never. Maybe a father too won't do what he did for you and Hyeon. Honestly even Hyeon never asked about his father, maybe Namjoon's presence was only equal to his father.

Your child's question - on last Saturday's dinner with him, is the clue.

Perhaps, a father figure is important whether you play the mother and father's part in your child's life, there still would be room left.

You do want to confess your feelings to Namjoon. However, at the same time, you do not want to waste his life because of you and your kid.

And even if you envision this, you do get scared what if he said no, or that the room in his heart is already engaged? but it haunts you in case he doesn't reciprocate what you feel for him. That is the reason why you asked about Ji-a that dinner night. What frightens you the most is not being rejected but him distancing himself from you after your confession... That's still okay but you can't see your kid and your best friend staying away because that would be a fate thousand times worse than death.

Your overthinking took the best of you, it's currently 6 am you didn't shut your eyes for a moment. The alarm buzz makes Hyeon a little startle, so you quickly shut it. His tiny arms tighten their grip on your arm. You silently giggle at your baby's movement, as you kiss him on the forehead, ruffling his hair ever so lightly.

He shortly unfolds his eyes, "mom," he softly murmurs.

"Yes, my angel."

"Mom, Joonie will come" he manages to let those words out blinking his eyes to dust away the sleep and watch his mom's face.

"What? Baby sleep for a few more minutes,"

"No, I have to get ready for my school mom, Joonie is coming to pick me up for school," he smiles midst rubbing his eyes from the back of his hand to wipe away the slightest sleep left in his eyes.

"Oh, baby", you hug him tightly leaving kisses all over his face, "but he didn't phone me, baby"

"Mom, Hyeon called him," he points at you, "your phone," he chuckles at your baffled face, "hyeon told him if he will not come to pick me up for school," his eyes are on your night tee button which glitters under the dim light as he toys it, "then Hyeon will find a new best friend."

You chuckle and place a kiss on his forehead, at least your kid isn't like you, save for eating doughnuts and whatever sweet hooks his eyes, let alone unable to keep things in his heart, and you're delighted with him today.

"Then get ready for school."

Hyeon is quick at getting things done, maybe it's Namjoon's influence, sticking around him, eating occasionally sleeping, and repeating, under his friendship, is why he's fitting in the same frame as Namjoon.

It's nearly 8 am you assume, and Hyeon's school time is 9. Hyeon is chomping on grapes, as your eyes are fixated at the entrance of your wee apartment which you could only afford to live in with your baby let alone you have been staying here since you flooded back to Seoul.

You left your main door unlocked for Namjoon, waiting for him, as you're barely focusing on anything else.

There's a knock at the door initially, and your eyes spring instantly from your phone to the direction of the knock followed by a creaking sound of the wooden door being opened.

"Joonieee," Hyeon squeals as he jumps off his skyscraper chair, his voice muffles because of the grape in his mouth.

Namjoon sinks to the floor, and outstretches his arms to hug the kid scurrying toward him, and hugs him tightly placing kisses all over his face and you gush at the scene in front of you, of the two main characters of your life. Their giggles, flood your mini apartment with light and serenity that soothes your heart.

"Piggyback me now," Hyeon whines.

Namjoon giving Hyeon a piggyback... It's a norm between them. When so ever Namjoon visits, he parades straight to Hyeon's room and gives him a piggyback ride to the living room.

Is there anything Namjoon denied Hyeon? No. Hyeon really does know how to bring his friend to his heels.

Will he, right now? Conceivably no!!

Because before you even think of an answer, he gives Hyeon a piggyback ride to the couch.

You glance at him, but he only avoids your gaze. You swore you won't ever poke tease at him about Ji-a or another girl. It was a colossal blunder that evening and the least he could do is flash a smile!?... this is something you didn't save at least he could return a smile to you!! Annoyance bubbles inside you, as you narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms under your soft bosoms, rise.

Fine, he's being tough... Then I'm the toughest.

You parade toward your kitchen to prepare some tea for him and ramen for your baby. This Namjoon is not your best friend anymore, he's Hyeon's best friend now. The way his face glows merely talking to your kid tells a lot. At least for Hyeon's sake, he's here after five days. But why are you jealous? He's only talking to your kid but why is he so low?

They are relaxing on the couch, Hyeon sitting close to Joon.

"Hey Joonie", his soft baby-like voice sounds so dull in the morning.

"Yes, my little angel", remote in his hand and eyes on the TV, surfing Hyeon's favourite movie minions... And probably it's the 50th time today for him watching minions with the kid.

"I do not want to watch a movie", he crosses his arms and knits his brow in unison.

"Why?" Namjoon frowns as his finger halts on the remote button he places it aside because it's so unwonted apathy on Hyeon's face.

Hyeon looks in your direction before speaking, "Promise you won't tell mom!" He impetrates, His eyes zoned out, on the floor, perhaps mind on whatever he's been thinking.

Not wanting to waste a second, Namjoon blurts, "I promise." He leans closer to him, picks him up, and straddles him on his lap. "Tell me"

"My friend Ji-woo, said Geon is her best friend and I'm not." He pouts as he hugs Namjoon burying his face, against his chest.

Namjoon chuckles placing a kiss on his hair he pats Hyeon's back, "this was the serious thing you wanted to tell."

"Yes, she's my very good friend Namjoon," he stretches himself out to catch a glimpse of Namjoon, as he continues, "it's complicated."

He chuckles again, age just five but thinks like a fifty. But at some point, Namjoon too felt the same.

Does he still feel the same after these years?

Does he still love your sapphire eyes, which he fell in love with?

Hyeon's eyes are Sapphire too, and radiant like you.

Does he still want to spend the rest of his life with you even after you are a mother of a child?

Does he need to remind himself why is he still single?

Or is he waiting for someone who perhaps never loved him or will never love him??

"What are you boys chattering ... I too want to know", you asked aloud from the kitchen and startled him the messed-up questions which were already jumbled up are now whirled up like a Bermuda triangle... consuming him.

"Nothing mom, we can't disclose. It's our secret, right Namjoon", Hyeon questions, placing his tiny hand on Namjoon's cheek whilst poking his index on his deep dimples, as Namjoon titters at Hyeon's baby-like voice.

"it's hollow," he scowls, poking both indexes on either of his dimples, "Joonie, your cheeks"

"Heyyyy, told you to call him uncle", you yell at your kid.

And they snubbed you, again babbling about something which now looks suspicious to you, yet you are here in the kitchen preparing tea for Namjoon and ramen for boys.

Whilst yelling at your kid, you burnt your index, as you shriek yanking back your hand, and on spur of the moment, you suck your index - a reflexive response.

He looks at you, standing in the kitchen, face scarlet and a finger in your mouth. With due consideration, he gently places Hyeon on the couch and dashes hotfoot towards you. Taking your hand under his custody, he - on autopilot - sucks your index which was in your mouth a moment ago. His eyes looking darkly, deeply, into your eyes with something unfathomable which you don't understand but gives you wintery shivers down to your spine.

"Ar-- are you mad at me?" You stutter, at the nearness between you two, your heart is pounding at the speed of light years. Oh, my god. You in a jiffy, look at Hyeon, and he's eyeing you two with a scowl on his baffled face, surely he is out of depth. You hastily take a step back.

"PUSHED TO VIOLENCE MAD" he declares, dark eyes still not leaving you, peeping oh-so-wildly into your soul.

"But why", you murmur, managing to choke out, your eyes flutter.

"Where was your damn mind y/n?" He hisses with his gritted teeth, your eyes wandering across his honey tone skin glowing in sunlight that seeps through the window and meets his soft petal-like skin as your hands are hungrily desiring to nuzzle him, craving to feel him.

"Jooniee," Hyeon calls, annoyance dripping from his voice, "what are you two doing there" he quizzes you two, and in a flash look at Joon and a mysterious grin on the corner of his mouth.

"Coming", he let out, looking at you with his sexy grin.

Does he smile like this or it's just you, noticing it right now? He looks handsome today, Is he really single? or not? because of how such a beautiful-young-rich man like him is? how has no one ever proposed to him or approached him? maybe someone must have, surely proposed to him and this idiot would have rejected her like he always had. Namjoon with someone else, this picture in the back of your dense head, who's not you is undeniably painful, your heart is burning with just a mere image of him with someone else! What will happen if that image will pop out someday out of nowhere, what if one day you'll meet the love of his life, who, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is not YOU.

He claps in front of your eyes, "hey, I'm talking to you, where is your mind y/n", as your eyes flutter and instantly you focus on his being.

"Oh, Joon, I'm sorry.... yea maybe I'd take an off from work, today."

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yea, yea, I'm fine," you nod. "Just drop him today, if that's okay."

"This is what I came for. don't worry." he pauses, "I'm leaving to drop Hyeon to school, okay?" He traces your cheeks with his thumb and nods. "Are you sure, you're fine?"

"Yes 100%." you nod.

He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, a glow of warmth at the junction of your skin, under his touch. he nods, as he parades back to the couch.

"Come on Hyeon, will talk on our way. It's getting late"

"But Joonie your tea and, Hyeon's ramen," you stroll out of the kitchen and hand Hyeon his bento box.

"I'll be back y/n, don't worry about the kid we'll get something on our way!!!" He stretches out his hand towards Hyeon, as he holds his and the boys parade out of the apartment.

You plop down on the couch, and you hear a whisper from your right - what the hell was that y/n, oh my god. What Hyeon will think of you two, no no no.

Then the voice from your left utters - so what Hyeon too want him as someone more than a friend, maybe father.

Yea fair enough.

The voice from your right - do you too want him as Hyeon's father.

Then the voice from your left - Nah, not only as Hyeon's father!

Oh god, shut up!!!

"Joon left his bag here, probably because he's coming back." You, in a tick, remember about the novel you gave him last week, as he said he'll return in 2 days, and as said you two are meeting after a long five days, so you assume he presumably has read it. You lean closer to the bag and pick it up. You open it, searching for your book.

But you find something - more - interesting, which you thought you won't ever find it. It's the same eight years old diary which he used to hide from you, which you, one of those fine days found, not found - honestly, got your hands on, and you were just a second ago that he caught you and took rkive into his possession. It's still the same, just a little scratch on the borders, and you take a sharp intake of breath, it smells like him does he keep it with him, ever?

It's a white diary with dark blue on the south of it, with rkive written in black bold characters just on the top of the blue border.

You open it, the itchiness in your hands to open it right away and read all 500 pages in a shot, you jump over to the last page... He still writes, pages are blank at the end of it. Calm down - the voice inside of your head yells at you, with wide eyes.

Yes, she's right you need to calm your nerves babe, you rise from the couch and make your way to your room. But you halt in the between, catch a glimpse of the diary in your hand... It's wrong to read someone's secret journal.

The voice from your left howls into your ear - it's okay he's not someone for you.

And the voice from your right mumbles into your ear - what if it was your diary in someone's hand?

You pause and veer around to place it back in its place. But you hear a creaking sound of your apartment door, rather than keeping it back into his bag, just after you catch a glimpse of Joon, closing the door behind him, you whirl around - hot foot, and like hell for leather, you strut into your room, you bury the diary under your pillow and parade back to the living room.

"What happened, why are your top pale", he moves closer to you and traces your lips with the bend of his index, his eyes filled with desire are on your lips, he leans down, closer to you, but halts looking back into your eyes, as he shuts his eyes for a second and when he opens, the emotions you saw barely a second ago, faints.

He harrumphs, running his fingers through your hair, eyes not leaving you... But then he traces your lips with the back of his thumb, as he takes the tendrils of your hair around your lips and gently tugs them behind your ear. You shut your eyes, your heart thumping at his touch and a low moan slips your mouth, you angle your head to your left. His eyes land on your exposed neck and he a groan leaves his lips.

He harrumphs again taking a step back from you, "oh, office", eyes everywhere but you.

"Oh, yeah, uh-- I'm not going."

"Are you okay? I mean if you want I can stay with yo--"

"No, I mean I do want you to stay here, with me but you should really go to the office", you nod, a faint smile on your lips, " you should go Joon... I'm fine, if possible do visit again before going to your place."

"Yea I'll. And don't worry about Hyeon... I'll pick him up ok", he places his palm on your cheeks as you nod.

He gives you your favourite, dimpled smile.

And he leaves.

You make your way to your room, plop down on your bed take out his diary to read. It smells homey - the diary smells like cinnamon - like him. Finally, you're diving into his diary. "It's wrong I know but still I want to read it, sorry Joon but if you hadn't snatched it from my hand then possibly I wouldn't be doing this." You puff out a breath.

You open it, and the first page says... "You should not read someone's diary and if you're, then give it back to me and if I'm not there wait for me, I'll presumably come back to find it. Thank you."

You laugh uproariously, actually, you shriek with laughter, "Sorry Joonie I didn't tumble under your trap".

You flick to the next page, "Honestly it's wrong if you're still reading, but if you decide to stick on reading it till the last, then let me tell you something- one -- you can not tell anything to her. Two -- it's going to be exhausting because it's BORING. Thank you".

"WHAT IS THERE IN THIS? now, the chances of me not reading it are zero, Joonie, and blame yourself for this, THANK YOU," you yell.

You turn to the next page, "it's something I never really shared with anyone in my life and maybe will share it in the future with her someday(04.15.2014). Change in plan maybe it'll be just between me and this diary, but I hope to tell her someday okay but genuinely speaking I won't(11.05.2014)."

"Why did he cut that line? 11.05.2014 the day Jace proposed to me!! But what else happened that day, I remember he was with me and was fine too."

P 1: I never imagined writing a diary out of nowhere, but there's a reason why am I writing this.

So, it was my first day at the uni, I saw someone, though I don't know her name, she's the reason I am holding a pen in hand.

"He never spoke to me about someone, and why he didn't wish to let me know?"

P 5: I saw her today, again, she was sitting in the last seat at the corner of the lecture room. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She looked lovely in beige, I really wanted to confess to her, how pretty that colour looks on her, but she's too shy and I couldn't tell her.

A scowl takes its place on your face like a permanent resident. And your heart is thumping now, at his notes.

P 11: I saw her today, she has the most joyful and adorable smile. I was mad about something which right now I don't remember, and she's to blame for that, it's her gorgeous smile.

You flick through the next few pages, and you couldn't wait to know the name of the person he's been writing to, since day 1 of his uni.

P 57: I guess, I like her. She was gazing at me, but when I saw her, she swivelled her head away. Does she feel the same? But the negative point - is we both don't know the names of each other. But I think she knows mine. That day in class, the professor called out my name, so presumably, she knows.

You close the diary, anxiety is eating you up. "He literally wrote every fucking day about that girl."

Then the voice from your left interrupt - read it, maybe, you'll find the girl's name.

You open the diary again.

P 101: 07.24.2014, I'll remember forever more, my heart never jumped like today, and my hands, are still as warm as a hot spring. no... not running a fever.

She just came, more like blew in unexpectedly, I was reading something which all the appreciation goes to her as I can't remember anything, I'm confident.

I asked her to walk with me to the library and on our way, we chatted like we already knew each other, and got wind of the fact that she too is from my hometown.

It felt surreal beside her, never felt like this before, and honestly do not know what it is but maybe this is what I was waiting for my whole life. Don't want to sound sugary but she's the one I want to roll over to in the middle of the night and wake up next to her diurnal. We didn't talk much but I'm clear.

I swear I have never been so sure about something or someone in my entire life

And yes finally got to know her name, y/n, with bright sapphire blue eyes.

You shut the diary with a loud thump, and bring it close to your heart as you shut your burning eyes, a warm tear escapes your eyes. Stupid idiot nerd what not, he deserves every single... Oh, Joonie why didn't you let me know? You open your eyes wiping away your tear with the back of your hand, and you open the book again.

P 130: We just met a few months ago, but feels like we know each other, for a long time. I wish to stay by her side for a lifetime. A smile tingles upon my lips, at the thought of our friendship.

P 139: when my phone's screen lights up with her name, so does my heart and my eyes like sun rays on my face, bestowing nothing but joy.

P 148: I didn't know the meaning of happiness until I met her, her smile warms my soul like a sun in the winter mornings, like a warm blanket on a cold night. Until I saw her and now I'm unable to find a difference.

P 163: today we both visited the library.

I saw a girl over there, sitting in the corner while reading a book. It was raining like heavily, and the content smile on her face was like she finally feels at home, and safe.

I guess y/n, must be my library, my halt from meandering outside in the rain. The home I've been looking for forevermore is beside me.

"I dared myself to read this, if I didn't maybe I wouldn't get the heed of not only his but my feelings too. He sure is dumb, but I'm not. He sure took years and maybe will take forever to let it out, I won't and I can't. But before that, I need to know what he feels about me now."

P 178: we went to the cafe today, and she looked pretty in that beige dress.

I have been praying for her, for what feels like forever!!

P 196: Everyone told me I deserve better, it was okay for everyone else to say. But she too said it, she murmured into my ear, when we were in class, that I deserve better and Ara is fine. The funny thing is I don't even know who Ara is! I know, I deserve better, but I don't want better. I want her.

P 204: Oh, now I feel there's no need to even write ever again in this diary. She was the light in my dark life. She who was the sun to my winter mornings is now with someone else, yes she deserves better. It's my mistake I should have confessed.

P 205: writing after 3 years, just to keep this memory between the pages. She told me she was pregnant, and I'm more than happy.

P 263: what is tougher than a human heart, which shatters over and over and regardless of pain still lives. I'm the evidence. He left her yet her heart yearns for him.

P 278: Today we visited the doctor for her routine check-up. She said she isn't willing to have this baby and honestly it broke me to pieces. I wish I could tell her how much I love her and want not only her but her baby too. I wish to love them till my last breath.

Why I overlooked, his affection. How can I be so stupid?

You recall your memories, of when you were pregnant.

"I'm just a call away y/n, can call me at 3 in the morning I'll be there, please do not stress over things that weren't meant to be."

Just one call of yours used to shake him up. You two visited the doctor together even though you told him to stay off, pushed him away because it was your problem you wanted to deal with it alone, yet he never left your side.

"I'm not leaving, I can't see you like this, alone at this deserted apartment, where you two lived.... No y/n you're coming with me, I have a spare room at my place. I'll be content seeing you safe next to me."

"Joon I'm okay, really, I can stay he--"

"No, you're coming with me."

Even stayed up with you for nights, didn't let you attend the classes, wrote not only his but your notes too, and fought for you when you weren't there.

Took proper care, he even memorized your meds on the tongue and learned the dates of your routine check-ups, fruits, soups, juice every other basic need of yours, was his command. He did everything that a father should do, which perhaps is the only justification for why he loves Hyeon so much.

Nights when you cried over your ex, yet lied to him, that this is only a hormonal reaction but a little did you know about him, but he sure knew every reason behind your genuine or phoney smile, every single reason behind your single teardrop.

"Listen y/n, I know I have been reciting this for months but here again I'm going to say, this time not for you for ours. I -- I mean you-- your baby. I-- I want you to be strong y/n. You're going to be a mother but crying like an infant." He wipes away your tears whilst leaning to kiss you but halts and ruffles your hair.

"Heyyy Joonie", you hit his chest.

"No, but seriously, do you want me to kill that nerd? See y/n I can!! and I'll if you allow me. I'm very much y'know skilled, uh competent, even proficient," he sums his abilities on his fingers, and you giggle at his naivety, "not lying I hold a black belt in Judo and earned one in Karate too, he doesn't stand a chance in front of your best friend", he dusts off his palms as of stroking off dirt and crosses his arms around his chest.

"So dramatically proud you are, Joon", Now you're laughing uproariously, in reflex your hand finds its purchase on your middle, and he instantly notices.

"Hey, are you okay?" he immediately holds you, his eyebrows furrowed at your hand's gesture, but you're still laughing.

"Joon, I'm really fine, you should have actually played Mr. bean. where were you back then?"

"Was probably waiting for your landing."

"I love your face glowing with that peaceful smile y/n, do not cry over some nerd. I'm here with you today, what if someday, I'm not there beside you, to wipe away your tears, which merely shed but if they do, the sole reason is men." You hit his shoulder, "stop it Joonie we're friends till the end, do you get it you asshole? don't you dare say that shit again."

But he wants his last sleep beside you, his last breath beside you. His ever so firsts to be by your side and ever so lasts by your side, this is what he feels for you.

"And do you know, your taste in men is horrible, I don't trust you in that process?"

"I HATE YOU KIM NAMJOON."

You look down with teary eyes, p 278, and you skip to p380.

P 380: she deserves every star in her life, to glitter for her the way my eyes sparkle for her.

P 485: feels like we are two stars floating in the universe, yet light years away. She sure is with me but feels like those two stars, babbling on either side of the moon, neither I can reach where she is, nor she can where I'm. But, my heart cherishes every second, every moment, every single breath with her. I wish stars could collide someday, and we'll meet eventually.

P 525: a week to go, I told her it's a boy, and she said no.

P 540: It's a boy, we named him Hyeon. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever love my kid as I love Hyeon. And he has Sapphire eyes like his mom, another reason to love him even more.

You heard the clanking sound coming from your living room you shut the diary, wipe away your tears and hide it under your pillow.

You strut out of your room, "Oh you guys are back." And in the twinkling of an eye, you felt your cheeks warm, when Namjoon's eyes meet yours, like all the blood rushing up to your cheeks.

Perhaps your friends were always right about you two - that you two would make an aesthetically pleasing couple.

"Hey, come here,"

Heat pooling in the pits of your stomach, you sure did feel all of this before, but to be precise you're catching every reaction of your body, now. Those three words are just not mere words, they did something to you, the warmth between your legs is the evidence of those three words. You are eyeing him, hungrily, stop drooling you fucking idiot.

"Mom do you remember, it's Joonie's birthday tomorrow."

"No, Hyeon your mom won't--"

"Yes baby I know, there's something for him," you look at him, "will you stay with us today?"

He looks into your eyes, the glow in them, which he purely saw for Hyeon, is it for him? his brows knit together, "yes anything for you," he pauses eyes wandering across your face, "you two."

Your kid is smarter than you, when you secretly told him you need to prepare a cake for his birthday, he told you his plan, which is why they both went out, and here you're placing the cake inside the refrigerator.

You know he won't take a step forward, it's only you who could do such bravery. It's his birthday and a new start to every perfect day.

You make your way to your room to find a perfect dress for his birthday night.

You're wearing a black cold shoulder ruched flounce sleeve bodycon dress, the silk fabric just ends at the curve of your cheeks, and you complete it with a black thong and yes no bra today. It's normal for you to doll yourself up, whenever you three move out, for dinner, parties, or friends' weddings. But today is, no normal day because you have never spread out as far as to shave, lest yknow.

Brushing out your tangles, your makeup is tastefully done as you're touching up some lipstick - let aside hungrily awaiting for him to smear it, spraying some perfume all over your body, you bolt out of your room. looking around your living room, to be precise it seemed hideous barely an hour ago and now it's looking nothing but cheerful as you beautifully decked out your place with balloons on the floor which you assure Hyeon would low-key love more than your birthday boy, with a cake on the table in the middle of the living room.

There's a rattling sound of keys behind the door, and you know they're here. The front door opens, and you find Hyeon and Namjoon, standing at the door, Hyeon couldn't help but claps at the decor his eyes twinkles at the sight of balloons all over the floor, as he lets go of Joon's hand and take off to pick the balloons, but what you take a gander at Namjoon, not saying much but you can tell, he could cry any moment, he's eyeing the whole room, then looking at you, your heart is beating at light year.

He makes his way to you, "there are still three hours left for my birthday", his eyes wander across your body, and you silently praise the lord for the dress you found in your closet.

"Yes, I know Joonie, but Hyeon is really excited about your birthday, and in an hour you'll find him out for the count," you both laugh, looking at him playing with the balloons, his chuckle is canorous to your ear filling your apartment.

"Fair enough", he paused, "by the way you-- you're looking gorgeous y/n"

Three cheers finally my man noticed, "oh, thank you, I thought you won't ever notice."

"you already think so low of me, y/n," you see a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"if so, what else do you like about me then," without a shadow of a doubt, you take a step towards him, as he too leans closer to you.

"Mom, I love the cake, it's looking yummy." You look at your baby.

"Oh, did you forget about Hyeon", he grins, teasing you to the core.

"Isn't it obvious today?" you take a step back.

"y/n are you flirting." he takes a gander at you and smiles mischievously.

"No", you stand tiptoe and lean closer to his ear, and warmly without qualms, "wanna be your sugar baby", you puff out a warm breath that gives chills down to his south as his tool twitches, "this is what I call is - flirting, Mr Kim, and I strongly believe you should take some classes, yknow? from me!!" you take a step back and make your way to your kid, who could sleep any moment.

you meet Namjoon's eyes, as he shares a knowing look, that he should probably slice the cake, "Hey my baby angel, would you cut the cake with me", he asks Hyeon.

"yess" Hyeon cheers excitedly.

You three celebrated his birthday like you have been doing for years now.

As you foretold, Hyeon is now in deep slumber. you pick him up, "uh-- you can sleep in my room--"

"No, I'll sleep with him today if that's okay with you?"

"Yea sure"

it's 1am, and you're tossing and turning, unable to sleep at the thought of Namjoon sleeping under the same roof, just a few meters away.

You are wearing a red drop shoulder belted satin lounge robe, with a matching thong and no bra. Craving for his touch makes you nothing but more frustrated, and your mouth dry.

you pick up your mobile, this should end today, he's an epitome of shyness, you want him deep yet harsh inside you, and you're seconds away to strut out of your room and dashing inside the room next to yours, and straddling his saddle, but you can't he's sleeping with your baby. So, you just text him to check if he's still awake.

you 1:10 am- I have a little secret, which I think, you should know.

Joon 1:11 am- you still awake? And what secret?

You 1:13 am- yes, and looks like we're awake for the same reason. And about that secret. Check your bag perhaps you should be missing something.

Joon 1:20 am- did you swipe away my diary from the bag, when I was away from home? Don't you dare read it!!!

You 1:22 am- over and done with it.

Joon 1:26 am- I'm sorry it was all in the past y/n, I promise it's nothing like that now.

You 1:27 am- SAD. Perhaps I'm alone in this.

Joon 1:29 am- you too?

Joon 1:29 am- I mean you too feel what I feel for you?

Joon 1:30 am- you don't understand how much I feel for you y/n, if you're playing the clown then don't.

You 1:34 am- save for I'm not, and there's something I low-key want you to know beforehand if you do feel for me. Joon there's nothing behind the scenes, I, yknow I cry often even if Hyeon gets some silly injury, though he laughs, and I'm the one who cries. I cry over things that have hurt me in the past, or things I'm so in love with. Yknow I'm afraid of being left, afraid of not being good enough, a good mother, a good daughter, and a good friend. I can actually count millions of things that I feel hostility toward myself. If we're going to be a thing in the future you should know that even if you'll tell me you love me countless times, I'll still be afraid of you leaving me. Jace broke my heart into bits, just don't blame yourself.

There's a knock at your bedroom door, he slides it open when he finds it unlocked. He peeps inside before entering, entering your room he looks at you, "y/n when will you, stop thinking so low about yourself", his eyes hungrily wander across your body, and you find him in waist shorts.

His eyes travel to your hardened peaks covered with red satiny material which he wants to slip you out from it, he harrumphs distracting himself, but something catches his eyes, his eyes travel along your smooth long legs on display and halt at your sheer red thong.

"I uh--" he looks away from your figure, eyes on the floor filled with serene moonlight, "y/n, nobody's perfect, even I'm not, you know every deep and dark arcane of my past..... I'm here to tell you that I don't care, I fell in love with you, not with your perfection. Since I fell in love, since then I love every crack in your skin and all your freckles. I didn't meet someone like you," he looks back at you, as he walks closer to you and settles beside you taking a hold of your hand in his, he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

"I'm grateful," you take out the diary, "that I found this," and hand him.

"Oh thank you I thought I won't get it back.... and did you just say found? Really?"

"Yaahhhh!!"

"I probably wasn't going to because of the perfumes it holds of its owner, but seems like my bed would smell like him from now on, so it's fair enough to return it, no?"

He gives you his coy smile as he nods, "rather my bed will smell like you because I won't let you and our kid stay here," he parks a soft kiss on your forehead, "and what are we going to tell Hyeon?"

"That we accepted his proposal and now he'll call his best friend his dad!" You chuckle.

In a shot, he looks at you, a puzzled look blanketing his face, "I still can't believe this, that all these years you too felt the way I feel for you, why you didn't you --"

"Same question I'm hurling on you," your eyes are hungrily tracing his lips as you tightly grip the sheet under your fist and he notices you.

Without losing away any minute he leans close to you, smacking his lips on yours as your breath hitches at his sudden whirlwind of ardor, as his strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you tightly against his body and in a trice, he straddles you on his lap whilst kissing you breathlessly. your moan melts away into his mouth. you clung onto him, arms tangled around his neck.

His hand at the small of your back roughly snakes under your red satin robe. he slides his hand inside your thong, your skin flush at his touch, digging his nails into your cheeks for support. he's gently kissing you without letting you go but oh so rough on your body. sucking his lower lip, as you slowly tug his lip between your teeth leaning back to bruise it. you both moved apart breathlessly panting, hungrily looking into each other's eyes, travelling back to lips. you fiddle with the hem of his shirt, hiking it up, he's smirking looking at your eyes hungrily savouring his exposed chest.

you feel him grow under your heated core. he tugs at your robe belt as it slips down and pools around your butt. his sinful eyes filled with lust darkly eye your bosoms, he tenderly gropes your breast, he cranes his neck a little, enveloping your buds between his lips flicking it with his tongue as he takes it between his teeth, playfully biting it, your grip on his shoulder tightens dipping nails into his skin.

moans escaping from your lips making him groan, his warm breath hitting your bosom sending tingles on your skin, he places his palm gently over your lips and hushes you, "if you don't want to wake up our kid," retracting his hand from your lips, our kid that word did something like something incomplete is now perfectly complete.

He gently hurls you on the bed, you want to feel his body, you want him to kiss every inch of your skin, bite you and bruise you, your drunk eyes watch him, pulling down his waist shorts, freeing his shaft. He grabs his shaft using his large hands, and jerks himself for few times indirectly letting you know to get ready, low groans peep from his lips.

You gape at your man seductively, how he jerks his member in his hand, growing harder in his hold your stomach turns at his hard length. Fucking his fist in a pace, eyes never leaving you as he smirks at you drooling over his hard shaft. The urge inside you to take him in deep inside you, and fuking him much - very much better.

As he shoves his free hand between your legs, he spreads them apart.

He parks himself between your legs. His eyes on your bruised bosom with hickeys only make him want to bruise them more. He hooks his finger to the waistband of your thong and slides it down, your breath hitches at your exposed body in front of him as you close your eyes in self-consciousness, he gasps at his sight and leans down taking a lungful of your flavour as he parks a wet kiss on your heated - bare - wet pussy "beautiful" he murmurs.

His hands travel from your knees slowly to your lips, as he traces your delicate skin and dips his thumb in your slick, a low moan escapes your lips before you bite them to melt them inside your lips, "Joon, I can't wait, fuck me, baby", your voice seems to lower, sounding more like smooth whiskey and he knows you're only trying to make it hard for him.

"You want me to fuck your tight pussy, raw, that desperate huh!!"He parts your slit, as he flicks his tongue between your sensitive lips. "Don't you know how much I waited for you," without wasting another second he grabs your knees stretching them out for him, as your pussy slit opens. He grabs his hard cock, rubbing it.

Waiting for him to fuck you, you grab one of your bosoms and knead it desperately in your hold. He bends a little as his hands slide under your ass and grab them angling you for his cock, he slowly buries his shaft and your eyebrow furrow as he moves deeper and deeper inside you and halts drinking in your expressions.

He slightly pulls back then stops, and again pulls back eyeing you, "if you want, we can stop it right now baby", he leans down closing the distance between you two, his hands on either side of your head, and place a soft kiss on your forehead, you instantly open your eyes looking at him, his lips just an inch away from your lips, "no, I want you right now.... No more distance between us Joon," your hands cupping his nape to draw him closer as you park a soft peck on his lips.

He digs his fingers back into your flash, and retreats, slamming his dick back into you, as you whimper in pain, a tear escapes from your eyes. Glitters of sweat on his forehead under the dim light of your bedroom, doing no justice to how gorgeous your man is. Not only on his forehead but his chest too, deliciously sweaty. Seeing him on your top, your pussy clenches around his hard length, "baby", he groans dipping his head on the nape of your neck the warm breath breaking out goosebumps over your skin.

He doesn't stop now, his cock throbbing to match the crazy throbbing of his heart, arching your back you dip your head back into the pillow, "fuck Joon, shit.... Yeahhh babyy", you moan out loud, as he quickly kisses you nipping your lips to bite your moans.

He leans back, "baby, Hyeon wi--"

"Fuck me harder Joon," you murmur, breathlessly.

Without wasting any time, he's ramming his dick into your tight pussy again, as you grip the sheets under your skin.

The way he's making you feel, you never felt like this ever in your life though it's the first time after Jace, he too never made you as incredible as him. The way his hips are in a rhythm against yours, the pleasure making you clench around his length.

"I wanted you for so long y/n," he groans, pounding into you. "You are mine y/n, and I belong to you," your walls only clench tighter around his shaft, enveloping perfectly around his thick length.

"Yes, Joon, only you... Us baby" your breath hitches, looking at his dark eyes, you're close and you know he too is.

He groans as his knees buckle, striving to keep up the merciless rhythm, "should have confessed, before him but now I won't waste any minute", his words are only causing your walls to spasm and contract, fire in your abdomen with his words making your way to your peak.

"You can do this baby", he coos tracing your cheeks with his thumb. He could feel you close.

As your climax is near, your hips stutter against him, desperately, creating the heat and friction for the feelings and bringing you closer to your peak. You're writhing under him when you hit your orgasm, you're so wet that his thick shaft is easily sliding in and out of your pussy.

He's pushing into you inch by inch, massaging your walls slowly. He covers your mouth to hush you before emptying inside you, as your clenching walls only cause him to come inside you and fill you up to the rim.

He softens inside you, as he dips his head into the crook of your neck.

"happy birthday baby, I love you", you kiss his earlobe, panting heavily.

"I love you more..... the best birthday," he pulls back, looking deeply into your eyes, "can"t wait to see the joy in our baby's eyes".

you both chuckle, and there's a knock on the door, "oh, shit" you murmur.

Namjoon only chuckles, "seems like this is the time".

© 𝐥𝟎𝐦𝐥𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 - 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲/ 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭/ 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞. All rights reserved.

#namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon oneshot #namjoon oneshot #happynamjoonday #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #namjoon birthday #namjoon imagine #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon angst #kim namjoon fanfic #namjoon ff #namjoon fanfiction #bts namjoon x reader #kim namjoon imagine #knj x reader #knj smut #rm smut #bts smut #bts oneshots #bts imagines #bts namjoon smut #bts imagine #bts oneshot #knj fluff #bestfriend!knj #bestfriend!namjoon #namjoonday

[innytoes]

Since you asked: JATP Gilmore Girls AU! Or or or JATP oceans eleven AU.

More of the JATP GG AU, which I nearly forgot I made.

-Okay but you know the debutante ball? Luke got out before he was forced to do his, thank god, and he tells Rory she does not have to go through with his sham of gender performative nonsense just to appease her grandmother. But Rory is all 'eh what's the worst that could happen'.

-Emily has a minor meltdown when she realises Luke never gave Rory a middle name because HOW ARE THEY GOING TO ANNOUNCE HER FULL NAME WITHOUT A MIDDLE NAME LUKE?

-They go to Reggie's to brainstorm names. Reggie keeps swinging between Star Wars names and old people names, since 'Reginald is a classic, what's wrong with Ethel?'

-Alex is like: Luke stop trying to convince Rory to take Danger as her middle name.

-Eventually Rory goes over to the Molina house and asks Julie and Ray if it would be okay for her to use Rose as her middle name, because she's the best mother figure she's had.

-Yes there are many ugly tears.

-Luke also did not give himself a middle name and his mother pesters him for weeks and shoots down 'Danger' and 'Skywalker' as his middle name. He also can't ask Ray for his because like, then it would start to get creepy.

-So in a fit of frustration after the sixteenth phone call he steals Reggie's middle name, since Alex' is literally 'Christian' and nope. Emily is like: are you SURE? Yes, mom, he's sure.

-"Lorelai Rose Gilmore, daughter of Luke Eugene Gilmore and Robert Trevor Shaw" walks down the stairs with her dad to become a proper lady of society.

-Yes Luke wears a tux with tails and does not rip the sleeves off but only because Rory hid his seam ripper. Rude.

-Yes they go to Reggie's diner after and eat burgers while still wearing their gloves.

-Yes there are slightly less ugly tears when Reggie hears Luke borrowed his middle name.

-Yes Miss Patty and Babette quietly made jokes about how soon, they'd all be sharing last names instead.

-Alex has taken every dance class ever given by Miss Patty.

-For the longest time Emily and Mitch think Reggie and Alex are one single person. "The diner owner with the coffee and the plaid and the baseball cap."

-You just know the first time they meet Reggie and Alex they go home like: okay but which one does Luke have a crush on???

-Sometimes, Alex goes on one of his rants, and Reggie just leans on the counter with his chin on his hands and watches him with heart-eyes.

-Luke sometimes specifically eggs Alex on because he likes to see love-struck Reggie.

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

#julie and the phantoms #the jatp gilmore girls au #lukexreggiexalex #not!fic #I wrote a thing #also ray has a special little folder of pictures on his computer from town events #called PINING #and it's just Reggie and Alex and Luke staring at each other wistfully before they got together #Rory makes it a slideshow at their wedding/commitment ceremony #Ray pretends he has no idea where they came from

[mollypaup]

Hey, Sojiro? Is there any reason in your restaurant, which seats 17 people (23, if you want to squeeze three people on each side of the booth), you have THREE coffee kettles and two tea kettles??? I understand having multiple kettles for tea because the tea itself is kept inside and two customers wanting different types of tea isn’t unreasonable, but you make your coffee with a syphon? Those coffee kettles are used for pour over?? I don’t think you NEED to pour over for syphon coffee? Those kettles just have hot water in them? Why do you need THREE?

#jay replays p5 #am i misunderstanding how this works?? #also when akira makes coffee he pours it from the water kettle???? #Does he pour it from the syphon into the water kettle into the cup??? #akira are u ok buddy #ALSO #Im fairly sure there's an animation of Akira using the syphon like #a chemex???? #put a filter on top and did a pour over? #does akira actually know how to make coffee? #is he just doing random bs and hoping no one will call him out??? #does SOJIRO know how to make coffee #coffee dad is a SHAM

[hopespeak-hostclub]

Hiii I'm not sure if requests are open, but if they are, can I request something about Nagito degrading his Reserve Course S/O (NSFW)? 😳 It can be in any form you want (headcanons, one shot, whatever), and no pressure if you don't feel like doing it!! ❤️

🕯️

LETS DO THIS!!!

Also! The writing on this is weird??? I started out doing HC’s but it kinda turned into a one shot instead? So if parts seem weird that’s why! It’s like a mix of both😂 ALSOOOO unsure what gender identity/pronouns so I kept it neutral on all accounts! ❤️ if you want me to redo it for one way or another let me know and I’ll reupload with your preferred pronouns and gender identity.

TW:// NSFW 18+, degradation,

Nagito doesn’t like himself. He thinks he’s trash, and that his “talent” doesn’t even compare to the talents of his peers. And although he’s honored to be a student among them all, he doesn’t feel like he belongs. But something he hates even more than his sham of a talent, are the reserve course students. He can’t fathom the idea of somebody’s rich mom and dad paying their child’s way into an academy for GIFTED children. He thinks it’s a disgrace to even have the reserve course program at a school like Hopes Peak. Nagito swears up and down that he hates everyone in the reserve course. Well, he used to. But that was before he met you.

The first time you met Nagito, it was at a coffee shop near the school. It was after school hours and the two of you sat at separate tables doing homework alone. But you both kept looking up at eachother locking eyes. Anytime he caught you, your face turned bright pink. Eventually he walked over to you. “Hey there, my names Nagito.”

“My names, y/n”

You talked at that table for hours until they closed the shop. You went on a long walk just talking after that. Neither of you actually finished your homework. After you went your separate ways you assumed you’d never see him again. You didn’t get his number, and you didn’t even know where he goes to school.

The next morning you’re walking into the reserve course and you spot him walking with ultimates Kazuichi Soda, and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. Your heart dropped when you realized that must mean he’s an ultimate too. Most of the ultimates hate the reserve course students, with the exception of Chiaki and your classmate, Hinata.

Later that same day, Nagito’s bad luck somehow got him volunteered to deliver a paper to one of the reserve course teachers. He begrudgingly headed towards the separate building paper in hand. “Of course my bad luck gets me into the reserve course. I hate these students. They’re nothing but frauds” he thinks to himself while walking over. “I know my talent isn’t really even real, but at least I was accepted in instead of buying my way in.”

You’re sitting in class doing some work, when the door to your classroom opens. Then you see him walk in. You quickly hide your face in your hands hoping he doesn’t see you, but you’re too late. He stares at you for a few moments before handing the teacher the things he had. He then politely asks for a pen. Your teacher hands it to him, and you stare in horror as he quickly scribbles on a piece of paper. On his way out the class room he drops the paper on your desk. “Reserve course huh? Coffee shop tonight after school. -Nagito”

That night he made it very clear what he thought of your class, but he also made sure to let you know that what he felt with you was essentially love at first sight.

That was a year and a half ago. You know he doesn’t care much for the reserve course, or any of your classmates, but he’s in love with you. And you love him.

Your family had to move away for your parents job, but they wanted you to continue attending Hopes Peak, so they rented you an apartment near the schools campus. You very quickly moved Nagito in with you so you weren’t alone all day and night.

After a long day of attending classes, you and Nagito headed back to your apartment to do homework and have dinner together.

Nagito finished his work before you do of course. He usually does. Typically, he’ll watch TV, or make the two of you a snack when he’s done, but today he just sat across from you staring at you.

You can barely concentrate as he stares. “Nagito love… are you okay?” You asked him while setting your pen down and staring back at him.

“Just thinking about how ridiculous it is that I fell in love with a reserve courser. That’s all,” he shrugged. Nagito got up from his chair and made his way toward your shared bedroom. You sighed and closed your books following him. This boy really never lets you finish your homework, does he.

You follow him into the bedroom and see him laying on his side of the bed. You sit next to him. “Nagito, are you frustrated with me?” You ask genuinely. But Nagito just smirks.

“You could say that I guess. Just thinking about how my rich little baby is working so hard on their homework, and for what? Can’t mommy and daddy just buy you another spot in class next year?” You looked down as he talked about you that way. Not only did you feel ashamed he felt that way about you, but you also felt ashamed that you found it so hot when he talked to you that way. You didn’t say a word you just sat there, looking down into your lap. Nagito smirked at you and lifted your chin up with his index finger. “Cmon angel, you’re not upset are you? I mean, you truly can’t be! You know I’m right, I mean, it’s completely true,”

You cut him off with a passionate kiss, which resulted in him pulling away and looking at you with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Oh, I get it. You like when i tell you how worthless you are don’t you?” He said, resulting in a soft whimper escaping your lips.

He slowly put his hand down your pants and starts to rub your lower region. “You nasty reserve coursers would like being talked down to wouldn’t you?” He asked with a smirk, as he pushed you onto your back.

His long delicate fingers rubbing you still, you moaned out loudly. “You would like that wouldn’t you? You’re just my little slut.”

Nagito quickly rips your shirt off of you and starts leaving hickeys all over your chest and throat. “Now everyone in the reserve course is going to see just what a little slut you are, aren’t they?” He then got on top of you, himself still clothed, you still wearing your bottoms. He ground his crotch against yours, while making out with you. You buck your hips up to meet his, desperate to create any friction.

“Yea? You like when I do that?” He did it a few more times. Harder. You knew that the mix of dirty talk and the little touching you were receiving was going to make you cum, and Nagito could tell too.

“You’re such a disgrace, y/n. Even I, somebody with no real talent, can see what a sham you are. You’re absolutely pathetic.” His words were cruel, but the tone in which he spoke was slow and sexy. All of this while he sucked on your neck and continued to grind against you.

“P-please Nagito… fuck me…” you begged him. He just laughed at you.

“No.” He stopped all contact completely, making you whimper and shake. “Sluts don’t deserve to feel good do they?” He teased. “And that’s what you are isn’t it?” He turned around and fumbled with his pants. When he turned around again, the were pulled down around his thighs. With one swift movement your pants were around your ankles. Without any warning he shoved his dick right into your hole.

With every word he spoke, he thrusted deep into you. “You just,” thrust, “a no good,” thrust, “talentless,” thrust, “slut” thrust.

You screamed out in bliss and pleasure as he fucked you deep and hard, which made him smile even more. “Yea, scream for me. Let the neighbors know just how nasty you really are huh?” He pounded into you a few more times before whispering softly in your ear. “I want you to cum for me.” And after a few more thrusts from Nagito, you quickly released. His orgasm following shortly after as he came deep inside of you.

After he helped you clean yourself up, he gave you a hug. “I love you, y/n”

“I love you too Nagito,” you held him close.

“Now, go finish your homework so they don’t kick you out of school, reserve course,” he said with a cocky grin.

#Nagito komeada #Nagito x reader #Nagito x reserve course #hopes peak reserve course #reserve course reader #Nagito komeada smut #komaeda smut #Nagito smut #danganronpa smut #sdr2 smut #sdr2 #danganronpa #request #nagito komaeda #dr nagito #danganronpa x reader #smut fic #danganronpa fanfic #fan fiction

[kaepop-trash]

Initiative

Rated: Suggestive

Pairing: JaehyunxReader

Summary: Holding a conversation with anybody was a task for you. Holding one with Jaehyun seemed impossible. Till that is, one day he took the initiative himself.

Warnings: None except that this is a tease.

Word Count: 1.3k

(A/N): I'm just trying something else. This is basically a dream I had that I wrote into a scene. This is probably the shortest thing I've ever written lol.

It was late in the evening when she finally walked into the hotel from a nearby café. Her mother had called her for the third time, telling her sternly that it was time to come back. This time she caved. The day's sightseeing finally got to her. When they returned to the hotel all cramped in a minivan, she had insisted on having a cup of coffee to keep her awake for dinner. It was that very dinner her mother was urging her back for.

She dragged her feet up the meager steps to the 'lobby' that was in this case an open seating area that looked into the same ocean she had been staring at all evening from her solitary corner at the coffee shop.

When she came closer to the sound of the waves, she noticed Jaehyun on one of the couches, staring out at the beach.

She hated that the back of a head was all it took to recognise who it was, his shoulders rising and falling from what looked like a sigh. She turned to look at the pillar behind which stood the elevator she needed to take, chastising herself for even considering making a run for it like she was a fugitive.

It wasn't that she was avoiding Jaehyun. No. It was just that she felt like they were both too reclusive by themselves to ever strike a conversation with each other.

When she met him at the airport, Jaehyun gave her a warm but pursed smile when her mother introduced (Y/N) to her business partner and his family— his wife and their son, Jaehyun. After that he proceeded to plug his earphones in and go sit on a couch in the corner, not looking up till the flight was called. That moment defined the trip so far and it was fine by her. She could understand the impulse, so she just left him alone.

Her footsteps scurried by him on the slate floor rather loudly, holding her breath till she reached the corner where the elevators were. Making it without giving into the impulse to look back at him.

Tapping her foot on the floor, (Y/N) watched the screen that told her which floor the elevator was. The sleeveless top she wore for the hot day now exposing her arms to the harsh air conditioning, making her cross her arms. It was footsteps that made her look down, seeing his black sneakers before she saw his face.

Jaehyun came and stood beside her, making her eyes hastily go back to the screen. He was close enough for her to hear his breath, always so steady that it tended to pacify her nerves.

"Hi." His voice was soft. Like despite there only being two of them, he made sure the words were just for her. It made her look back at him.

"Hi." She breathed out, swallowing an internal groan when the single word she spoke came out unsure.

The other reason she avoided Jeong Jaehyun was that he made her very nervous.

Maybe it were those dimples that currently assisted the pursed smile he had on his face— otherwise supposed to be as awkward as the current silence between them. By the time the elevator dinged she sighed out loud from relief, only realising a moment too late the implication it might have.

She hurried into the elevator, hearing a soft laugh from him as she turned; the gesture telling her that he definitely heard it. He watched her with eyes squinted from humour as he shook his head and walked into the elevator, his hands going into the pocket of his tan shorts. She pressed the button to their shared floor, eyes going down to the floor.

Out of the few rare moments that they had to interact, (Y/N) decided that being stuck in an elevator for even a few moments with him would definitely be the most excruciating of them all. Being confined in the space made his cologne as intoxicating as it was imposing. The infuriating realisation she had was that he had spent all day in the heat and humidity, still in the clothes he was in all day. She took a deep breath, not knowing whether it was to channel her frustration or to whiff at him like a creep.

"You know," Jaehyun became the one to break the silence, her brows rising slightly before she realised as she turned to him. At three words, this was probably the most he’d said to her directly. His lips twitched on one side when he saw the subtle surprise on her. "My dad asked me why I don't try to talk to you." He licked his lips, biting down on his tongue as he tried to hold in a smile.

Her cheeks heated impossibly from the thought of his parents talking about this. It also heated from the sight of his mouth. "It's okay." She winced, "I like to keep to myself too. I don't mind." She shrugged, wanting more than anything else for this conversation to be over. He smiled a little wider, cheeks cushioning out around the two dips in them.

She absolutely hated how attractive he was.

"I told him that I was a little apprehensive because you look like you like to keep to yourself." His lips grew wider still when she smiled sheepishly this time, snorted at the irony. "And because you look like you bite.”

Her heart jumped into her throat at the words, "You told your father that?" She interrupted him with a stunned gasp. Jaehyun rolled his tongue under his cheeks, the action inexplicably hot, shaking his head at her with just a shade of impatience, smile disappearing. The first real emotion she'd seen on him. His eyes looked above her, then came back to her eyes. He took a subtle detour for the smallest second to glance at her lips.

When he looked back, the small gasp of her breath made his lips twitch subtly.

"My mom chimed in then. Do you know what she said?" His devious smile was an indulgent one.

"What did she say?" Her voice came out more demure than she thought. Not pondering long on it after Jaehyun gave her a pleased look.

"She said that I'm too handsome to worry about something like that." He couldn't stop his scoff.

(Y/N) turned to rightfully give him a look of disbelief, his cheeks turning red and his hand raising to rub his earlobe. A slow smile spread on her lips at the sudden bashfulness despite the few moments of bold challenge that came immediately before.

"If it helps, I think she's a total sham too." He clicked his tongue, other hand reaching out to rub the other ear. This time she noticed how red the tips were before he even touched them. She looked at the screen inside the elevator, noting the floor.

"On the contrary." She breathed out, the timbre of her voice getting heavier. Jaehyun looked back to meet her gaze and the confined and sparse space almost gave her the sense that for a moment time stopped. "I think your mother's right." She shrugged, looking back to the elevator door as it dinged. What she heard then made a small sense of victory press on his back. Jaehyun’s breathing hiked, clearly afflicted.

She walked out, giving him a small sly smile. Her head tilted up as Jaehyun walked out of the elevator after her, standing less than a metre away from her.

"What are you doing after dinner?" He questioned, eyes drifting to her lips with a little more nerve, taking his time on this instance.

"You tell me."

That made him look up to her eyes, his own slowly lighting with promise.

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagines #jeong jaehyun

[harryhandstan]

a styles family christmas

I’m sorry this is late and shorter than I wanted but I couldn’t let the year end without a little holiday celebration from my favorite family! Linking the other parts of the series below so you can re-visit them if you choose but please don’t feel like you have to. Enjoy!

Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​, @bfharry​, and @iconicharry​ for the encouragement to finish this!! also miss zoey @milfzaynmalik is to thank for the super fluffy ending thank you love!

I Want Your Belly - Wonderful and Warm - Washed Away in You - Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?

word count: 3.1k

writing tag | masterlist

The crackle of Sterling’s whimpers filtering through the baby monitor wakes you. You’re slipping your feet into your slippers before you realize that Harry’s side of the bed is empty, his voice joining the growing distress of your son.

“S’all this about, bub? Too early to be makin’ so much noise, son.”

You can tell even through the speaker of the monitor that Harry’s still half asleep. Sterling’s cries become slightly muffled, you’re sure by Harry holding his son to his chest now to try to soothe him.

“Let’s see if daddy can figure out what’s wrong before we have to wake mumma, hmm?”

By the time you make it down the hall to Sterling’s room, Harry’s already got him changed and mostly re-dressed in his Christmas pajamas, delicately trapping one of Sterling’s feet to put the red sock back on his foot that probably came loose while Harry was changing him. Your son was much like their father, never one to stay still for long.

“Getting pretty good at this dad thing, H. That may be a new diaper changing record for you.”

Harry flashes you a sleepy smile, placing kisses on each of Sterling’s cheeks as he coos happily up at the two of you.

“Look what you did, bub. Told ya y’were being too loud,” He drums his fingers along Sterling’s tummy before bending to kiss your cheek the same sweet way he did his son’s, “Sorry, love. Meant to turn the monitor off so we wouldn’t wake you.”

“It’s okay, it’s time for him to eat again so the alarm would’ve woken me anyway.”

He helps you get everything set up to nurse, gently gripping your shoulders before kissing your cheek again, “You feed bubs, I’ll go make coffee and breakfast.”

You nod an agreement and he’s already made it out the door, preparing to make his way down the stairs before the statement registers in your brain, “Wait what? Why? Harry..it’s 4 a.m.”

He pokes his head back around the doorway, “S’Christmas morning. Don’t you want coffee before we do presents?”

You sigh, keeping your grip tight on Sterling as you let your head fall back to rest against the chair.

“Harry, I promise I will love and appreciate anything you got me just as much, if not more, when I’ve had a little more sleep.”

“Who says all the presents under the tree are for you, princess. Some of them are for Sterling and you and I both know it takes at least an hour to settle him back down after an early feeding so..thought we’d do Christmas early while he’s more alert.”

“What do you mean some..we only got him one thing. We agreed we wouldn’t go overboard with his first Christmas since he’s so young, remember?”

“I remember it as more of a suggestion than an agreement, really.”

The grin that spreads across his face tells you all you need to know. He definitely went overboard to spoil you both and your eyes grow misty with tears at what you’ll see when you venture downstairs later.

“I know how grumpy you get when you don’t get enough sleep though, so if y’really wanna wait til’ later..”

“We can do it now,” You interrupt, “But I just don’t want you to be disappointed when you don’t get a big reaction from Sterling, alright? You have to remember he’s only 7 weeks old.”

His face lights up, child-like wonder written across his features. He crosses the room quickly to smack you with another kiss, to the top of your head this time, “Meet you downstairs in a bit!”

You giggle at the way his feet shuffle almost too quickly back across the carpet and he trips over his own feet, catching himself and assuring you he’s fine before continuing down the stairs.

It’s only 20 minutes after that you join him in the kitchen, but you can tell he’s used every second of it to stay busy. There’s a plate of food already waiting for you and he offers you a mug of coffee, letting you transfer Sterling to his shoulder so he can burp him while you enjoy your breakfast.

“You didn’t make anything for yourself?”

“M’too excited to eat,” He shakes his head, “I’ll have something after.”

“Alright then, if you can wait then so can I,” You put your fork down, taking a long sip of your coffee before setting the mug back on the table. You offer him your hand, and for a second you think he may refuse, urge you to sit back down and enjoy your meal first. He doesn’t though, the buzz of elation at you seeing what he got for you overrides any other emotion and he grips your hand tightly in his, squeezing once before letting you pull him into the living room.

The only light provided in the room comes from the glow of the lights on your tree. They perfectly illuminate the shock on your face at the sight of how many presents have joined the pile since the night before.

“Harry, how did you have time to do all this? You’ve been busy or with us in all your off time lately.”

“Shh..they aren’t all from me,” He’s sitting on the floor in front of the tree, and he pats the spot next to him, inviting you to join him. He looks down at where Sterling sits in his lap when he says, “Had some help from Santa.”

That earns him a big smile from his son, who can’t take his bright eyes off of Harry. They drift to you for a second when you plop yourself next to the two of them.

“Seriously..I know you had help cause there’s no way you wrapped all these yourself.”

He covers Sterling’s ears, rolling his eyes at your slight insult, “Fine. If you must know, Auntie Sham helped me. I had them all sent to her and she wrapped them for me. I picked them up from her before I came home yesterday and snuck them in from the car after you fell asleep.”

“Sham? My best friend Sham? I just talked to her last night and she didn’t mention any of this to me!”

“‘Course she didn’t. Made her promise she wouldn’t tell. You’re too nosy for me to hide them here, too smart too. You would’ve figured it out a month ago if I hadn't asked Sham to help.”

“A month? The two of you have been scheming against me for a whole month?” He dodges the playful swat you attempt to throw his way, catches your arm instead to settle it against his chest. He uses it as leverage to pull you closer to his face, a firm kiss pressed to your lips. You melt against him, any irritation that may have been building fading away. You make a mental note to shoot Sham a text later to thank her.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he reaches with the arm that isn’t clutching tight to Sterling to grab a small box wrapped with simple red paper, adorned with green ribbon and a bow. This one is more messily wrapped than the others, and if you had to guess, Harry did it himself.

“Baby gets the first present.” He holds the box close to Sterling’s little hands. He has been grabbing at things more lately, discovering his hands and learning to use them. Thankfully they hadn’t quite learned to grip too tightly yet, since they mostly ended up in yours or Harry’s hair when either of you held him.

He tosses a matching box over to you and you catch it. You watch Sterling closely, see his sweet hands as they wrap around the box Harry offered him.

“Harry? Remember what I said earlier about Sterling being 7 weeks old so that present is most likely about to..end up in his mouth.” You chuckle as you watch that exact thing happen and Harry scrambling to move the box away from his son’s mouth, leaning in to ensure none of the paper got left behind. He breathes a sigh of relief when he inspects the package and finds that everything's still intact, maybe just a bit more wet than before.

“Let daddy help you, bub,” He nods to the one in your hands, “Open up, babe.”

You do, tearing away the paper and waiting for Harry to open the one for Sterling. You pull the top off the white box, revealing a bracelet made from the same beads as Harry’s teal Eliou necklace he owns. You look up to see a much smaller version being slipped onto Sterling’s wrist.

“I seeing you eyein’ my necklace when I wear it, but I also know you prefer bracelets so I had the designer make a set for you and bubs, so we can all match.”

“Oh, Harry, I love it so much! It really is gorgeous, thank you!” You turn your wrist around to get the full view of it fitting perfectly against your skin. You wipe a few tears when they escape from your eyes before exclaiming, “Okay! Your turn!”

You pass him an envelope labeled with his name and he raises his eyebrows at you as he takes it.

“Starting out a little small, are we?”

You shrug, “Depends on your definition of small.”

He’s gently pulling at the opening and before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “Just open it!”

“I am! I am! Just didn’t want to rip the card inside.” He works faster now, fingers tugging the edge of the card out and gasping when the airplane ticket falls out and lands in front of him.

“Is this what I think it is?” He snatches the piece of paper up, eyes scanning frantically over the words to find the destination, “How did you know when to schedule it for?”

“I know how homesick you’ve been lately, and how much you wanted more of your family to be able to meet Sterling so I thought we’d go to them instead of the other way around. Jeff helped me, said next week would be best. If you don’t want to do it then though we can..”

“No, this is perfect, except..”

“Except?”

“I also talked to Jeff about taking some time off to visit family. Yours instead of mine though. I see now why he had next week blocked off.”

“Wait..is that why my mom said ‘see you soon’ when we FaceTimed her last week? Did she know already?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure they wouldn’t mind havin’ us around for a week or so.”

He reads over his ticket again, laughing when he sees the end date of the trip you scheduled, “We’re gonna have a busy two weeks.”

“Great minds think alike, I guess.”

His hand reaches the short distance to cup your jaw, thumb swiping away more happy tears that have spilled at the idea of getting to show off Sterling to yours and Harry’s family. He smiles proudly down at Sterling before returning his gaze back to you.

“Yeah, guess they do.”

You both work through opening the rest of the presents labeled for Sterling as fast as you can, knowing it won’t be long before he’s ready for his mid-morning nap. You both make goofy faces and silly noises to keep Sterling engaged with each of the gifts you tear open for him. You can see him fading though, eyes trying to slip closed between each gift.

“I know there’s only a few more left, but I think we should save them for later, H. He’s getting tired.”

“Guess I did go a little overboard, huh?”

“No, Harry, everything is perfect, really. You did amazing.”

“I’ll take him back up to his bed, get him settled.”

“I’ll do it,” You’re already up, gently lifting him from Harry’s arms, “I’ll come back down and we can open the rest of ours together while he naps.”

“Or we could nap while he does..isn’t that what they say? Sleep when the baby sleeps?”

“That’s what we’ve been told, yeah. Never really works out for us though, does it?”

There’s always too much to be done in between; anything from a sink full of dishes to be washed or a few loads of laundry to be done. It was a nice idea though, and when Harry is able to be home he’s helping with as much of it as he can, urging you to do the resting instead.

He shakes his head, “No, it doesn’t but..s’Christmas. There’s no rush today, right? We can just..relax.”

You shoot him a look and you both fall into a fit of giggles, knowing there’s no such thing now that you have Sterling. Not that he was a particularly fussy or difficult baby, but he was just that..a baby that took up all your time and attention and didn’t care what day it may be or how tired his parents were.

“No harm in trying.” You shrug, keeping a tight hold on the mostly asleep babe resting on your shoulder as you make your way up the stairs, Harry following close behind, ready to catch you if your clumsy feet were to trip on the way up.

“Tryin’? Guarantee y’ll be snoring by the time your head hits your pillow in about 5 minutes.”

You don’t even have the energy to playfully scold him for his teasing, a yawn stretching across your face only confirming his theory. You’ve made it back to the doorway of Sterling’s room and you turn back to face Harry, a dreamy smile working it’s way across your lips. He clears the space still standing between the two of you easily, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a hug.

Harry’s careful not to squeeze too tight, to add the right amount of pressure in the embrace so you know how much he loves and appreciates you. You’re the one who deepens it, still keeping a firm hold to your son but pressing yourself as close as possible to his chest. His hand rests on the small of your back as he reaches around you to turn the doorknob to guide you through the doorway. In his haste to help, he’s pushed the door more roughly than he intended. The creak of the door startles Sterling, and you both wince at what you know is coming; your son’s cry rings loud through his room, breaking the silence you had already adjusted to. You do your best to pacify him, pacing a few times, shushing and rubbing his back in an attempt to quiet him.

You don’t even notice Harry’s absence until he’s back, a chestnut colored teddy bear held in his right hand. It’s the one present that the two of you picked out and agreed on, the one thing Sterling actively tried to reach for when it was opened earlier in the morning. Harry swears it looks just like one he had owned when he was younger and he wanted his son to grow up with a similar comfort. Sterling had stared at it for 10 minutes, no matter how you and Harry had tried to pull his attention away with other things you had opened for him. Currently, Sterling’s louder cries had diminished to softer ones, but still hadn’t completely stopped.

You speak quietly into his ear, almost a whisper when you say, “Look what daddy went back downstairs and got for you, angel. Don’t let him convince you he picked it out though.”

“Mumma’s a terrible liar,” Harry sing-songs at Sterling, flashing a look of disbelief up towards you, “Can’t believe you’d lie to our boy like that on Christmas.”

“It’s not a lie!” You’re still keeping your voice low so as not to disturb the baby again, “I showed it to you online weeks before we found that one in the store!”

“Y’sure? Cause I remember you being distracted by how cute the baby shoes were. I had to convince you not to spend $50 on a pair of boots he wouldn’t even be able to wear until next year!”

“I..well..they were on sale! He’d look so cute running around in boots next year!”

“You think he’ll be running by next year?” There’s a genuine fear in his voice at that thought, the idea of his baby growing up that fast.

“Maybe. He’ll be a year old next Christmas so it’s a definite possibility, especially if he takes after you.”

His voice is somber when he speaks again, “I can’t imagine him being anything other than the tiny baby he is now.”

“Babies grow, H,” The statement comes out more sarcastic than you intended, so you add, “Whether we want him to or not. We can always have another one too, you know.”

“You’re already thinking about another baby? Now?

“Well, not this second, no. But eventually. Like to maybe give you a little girl if you want one. Or any other boy is fine too. I’d be happy either way.”

“I’d take a girl.” He smirks at you, taking the now sleeping Sterling from you, placing a kiss to his forehead before bending to transfer him carefully into his crib. You both hold your breath as Sterling stretches, another tiny mewl at not being held anymore. His eyes stay closed though, and the two of you release a sigh of relief at the sound of his soft snores.

“Yeah?” You work one arm around his waist as he bends to tuck the teddy bear next to Sterling. He knows it can’t stay there while he naps, but for now he hopes it’ll bring his son even more comfort than he’s already feeling, at least for the few minutes more that he’ll be standing there to watch over him.

“Yeah,” He nods, still looking down when he continues, “As long as she turns out just like you, I’d love a lil girl.”

You don’t know what to say to that; don’t know how to tell him that one of your nightly prayers is that Sterling will turn out just like him. Big-hearted and kind with soft brown curls and that bright smile that could charm anyone. You would tell him later, but for now all you can do is stare lovingly back at him, blinking a few times to clear the tears. A love this big was something that had only ever existed in your dreams, and now you were being reminded of how real and true it was, your only response is to wrap your other arm around him and hug him tightly. You know he’ll be able to interpret the hug as a sign of your admiration for what he’s just said, for the wish that he hopes was just spoken into existence for the future.

When he does lift his eyes back up to study your face, his next breath is simply used to tell you, “Merry Christmas, darlin’”

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #dad!harry #my writing

[scabopolis]

Congrats on 600 followers!!!! How about Logan/Veronica and "Are you doubting my acting skills?" and/or any one of your 76 Danielle/Henry modern AUs?

Oh, Sarah, I’d do anything for you! I will eventually write a Danielle/Henry modern AU and it shall be dedicated to you, but for now, here is some Logan/Veronica friends to lovers inspired fake dating setup shenanigans.

--- Title: look at me like you like me Fandom: Veronica Mars Pairing: Logan/Veronica (side Wallace/Parker) Other Characters: Wallace, Parker, a frequent switching of tenses b/c this is barely edited.  Additional Tags: Should be a multichapter probably, friends to lovers (or idiots to friends to lovers??), fake dating shenanigans, Wallace sees all and knows all Word Count: ~1,800 ---

Sitting at brunch, her plate piled high with pancakes, Veronica Mars wonders just how long her best-friend thought he could get away with this. Logan Echolls (said best-friend) is currently walking slowly back and forth in front of the restaurant as he talks on his phone. He isn’t speaking, which means his mother is in the middle of a persuasive monologue. And everyone at their table knows what that means. 

“Charity gala?” Wallace asks. 

“My money’s on a distant relative’s wedding,” Parker says. 

“His parent’s anniversary is coming up,” Veronica says. “Could be their own party.” 

“What will they celebrate?” Wallace asks. “Ten years of sleeping in separate rooms and ignoring one another’s affairs?” 

“Regardless, I’m ready,” Parker says. 

Okay. Apparently Veronica’s isn’t the only one thinking about Logan’s go-to family event strategy. “You think he’ll ask you?” 

Parker frowns as she takes a sip of her coffee. “Why wouldn’t he?” 

Veronica draws a line in the air, connecting Wallace and Parker. “Well, for one, you’re married now.” 

“The people at these parties don’t know that,” Parker answers. 

The woman has a point. Veronica turns to Wallace. “And you’re okay with this?” 

“We’re living on two teacher’s salaries. If some wealthy man wants to be my wife’s platonic sugar daddy, who am I to stop him?” 

“I wanted to buy a new dress for your brother’s graduation anyway,” Parker says. 

“See! Perfect plan.” Wallace and Parker seal their agreement with a kiss and Veronica focuses on her pancakes. She cuts off a large bite with more force than strictly required and shovels the pancakes into her mouth. 

She isn’t sure why this whole conversation needles her. Something about Parker’s certainty, Veronica supposes. That it is going to be Parker who Logan calls on. To be fair, Parker and Logan’s arrangement pre-dates Veronica’s friendship with either of them. 

By the time Veronica met Parker their first year of grad school, Parker and Logan had been friends for four years. The pattern wherein Parker pretended to be Logan’s girlfriend at any and all society events his mother required him to attend was already well-established. Even after Veronica and Logan met, and it was quickly evident the two of them were destined to be platonic soulmates for the rest of their lives, it was still Parker that Logan turned to for help in these situations. Which, fair. Parker possesses levels of grace which Veronica can never hope to achieve. 

Veronica is much more apt to give a Hollywood director in his fifties judgey facial expressions when he introduces her to his barely legal wife. (A real thing that happened at an Echolls family BBQ. At least it still makes Logan laugh all these years later.)

It just didn’t occur to Veronica that it would always be Parker. Especially now that Parker is married. What is going to happen when she and Wallace decide to have a baby? How will they prevent word of Logan Echolls’ pregnant girlfriend from making the tabloid rounds? 

No. This is ridiculous. 

“She’s definitely not listening,” Wallace says, disapprovingly. 

“Some sort of fugue state?” Parker suggests. 

“Could be.” 

Veronica sighs. “What are you two talking about?”

“I wanted to know if it was all pancakes in general you seek to destroy, or if this one in particular had done something to upset you?” 

Her first instinct is to glare at Wallace. And then at Parker when she sniggers. Introducing the two of them to one another is the worst decision she’s ever made. But then she looks down at her plate. Sure enough, at some point she traded in eating her pancakes for cutting them into smaller pieces and then smushing them into the maple syrup. They no longer resemble an edible object.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Sure,” Wallace says, taking a well-timed sip of his coffee. His expression is all smug and knowing. 

Veronica is saved from additional Wallace stares and Parker sniggers by the return of Logan. He slides his phone into his blazer pocket and sits down beside Veronica, resting his arm on the back of Veronica’s chair. This is nothing new. Being best-friends with Logan means being comfortable with his rather tactile nature. But the look Logan’s action invites from Wallace is new. Veronica wants to spit at him. (Wallace. Not Logan.) 

(Portrait of grace, indeed.)

“What happened here?” Logan asks, gesturing to Veronica’s pancakes. 

“Nothing,” Veronica says. “What happened out there?” 

Logan’s fingers still from where he is lightly tracing the contours of her shoulder. “My mom and dad are renewing their vows.” 

For a moment all movement at their table ceases as they each take in this information. This despite Veronica's keen awareness of the fact that her guess was eerily close to being right. 

“I’m sorry. What?” she asks.

“That was about my reaction,” Logan says. “Want my bacon?” 

“Yes, please. They can’t be serious.” 

Logan slides his slices of bacon onto Veronica’s plate. “Serious about drumming up some positive PR, absolutely. Aaron was spotted looking a little too friendly with a married co-star. So, he and mom are going on a romantic getaway to Italy. When they get back they’ll do a backyard vow renewal.” 

“Logan—” 

The man in question holds up a hand, stopping Parker’s softly spoken entreaty. 

“No. I can’t do the talking about it thing right now. I can’t feel anything about it right now. What I need is a wedding date.” 

“Of course,” Parker rushes to answer. “Just tell me when.” 

“The weekend of June 11th.” 

“Absolutely. Deal,” Parker says, nodding enthusiastically. “Consider it—,” she trails off, her gaze somewhere over Veronica’s shoulder. 

“Consider it, what?” Logan asks.

“—Not something I can do.”  

“Why not?”

“That’s graduation weekend,” Parker explains. “I’m the faculty speaker.” 

“I’ll buy you shoes, too.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Logan says. “This way I can get very drunk and not feel bad about it.” 

Logan’s arm returns to the back of Veronica’s chair. This time his hand sort of hangs over her shoulder and curls around towards her clavicle. It makes it impossible to ignore details about Logan’s hands — the surprising delicacy of his fingers, the length of them, the weird knot on one of his knuckles. 

“I’ll do it,” Veronica says. 

“Do what?” Logan asks. 

“Be your fake girlfriend for the sham vow renewal. I can do it.” 

She refuses to look at anyone at the table. Not Parker. Sure as hell not Wallace.

(Seriously. Does he know something? Was it that night they all played King’s Cup and the two of them stayed up talking until 3:00 AM? Did she say something she wasn’t supposed to?)

And absolutely not Logan. She scrapes the edges of the smushed pancake with the tines of her fork. 

“Veronica.” Logan’s voice is soft, but she detects a hint of incredulity. Which, maybe she’s wrong and he isn’t her best-friend and he doesn’t know her very well, because it raises her hackles. 

She drops her fork. “What? Why not?” 

“Look, I love you. You know I love you.” Veronica ignores the little skitter of her pulse at Logan’s words, furrows her brow, and concentrates on being offended. “And you know me better than anyone.”

“But?” She prompts. 

“But,” he says, “you don’t really—” 

Before Logan can finish, she comes up with a dozen ways to complete the sentence. There is plenty she doesn’t have —the class, the patience, the height, the sweetness, the glamor, the—

“—look at me like you like me,” Logan finishes. 

“Wait. What?” Veronica’s eyes dart from Logan to Wallace to Parker. Neither one of them appear surprised by Logan’s words. In fact, Parker is faintly nodding in agreement. “Of course I like you. You’re my favorite person.” She thinks about this. “When you’re not being a total asshole.” 

“I know that. But, your face makes it look like you want to slap me most of the time.” 

“Because I do.” 

“It’s just not the most conducive to convincing my mother to not set me up with the daughter of whichever producer she is trying to impress.” 

“I’ll change my face.” 

“Change it?” 

“I can look like I like you.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ve been in love before, you know.” Veronica’s hackles are now standing at full attention. “Are you doubting my acting skills?”

“I would never,” Logan says. 

“Good. Because I could be the sweetest goddamned fake girlfriend you’ve ever had.” Veronica turns to Parker. “No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

“I’ll even use pet names. Schmoopsie. Snuggle muffin. Sweet cheeks. What’s your preference?” 

“My preference is none of them.” 

Still, despite his words, Logan seems to consider it. Veronica takes the time to nibble on one of the slices of bacon from Logan’s plate. If she isn’t mistaken, Parker and Wallace kept shooting each other, what they probably believe to be, covert glances. What are those glances supposed to mean? Does Parker know something too? Damned married couples with their telling each other things. 

“My mom does love you,” Logan eventually says. 

“See, I already have a leg up,” Veronica says. “And I can absolutely rock a floor length gown.” 

“Can you?” 

“I was on homecoming court senior year.” 

“You were?” She’s not certain which of the voices speaking in unison sound more shocked, Logan’s or Parker’s, but regardless she is deeply offended. She’ll look classy and hot as hell and that will show them. 

“Yeah,” Wallace says, “Keith still has the picture hanging up in his house. It’s hilarious.” Veronica glares at him. “Hilarious, because of how great you look. Obviously.” 

“I don’t want to make you do this,” Logan says.

Veronica doesn’t have time to question why he would make Parker do this but for some reason wants to spare her.  

“Hey.” She reaches up for the hand still draped over her shoulder and laces their fingers together. Logan looks down at her. His eyes are all soft and heavy lidded; like they sometimes get when he’s sleepy. 

(She’s also noticed they can kind of look like that when she’s ranting about a coworker. Or, that one time she helped her dad install a fence and came over to Logan’s place after. Her hands were full of splinters and Logan was so careful and gentle, removing each one with a very expensive pair of tweezers.)

“This is going to suck. Isn’t it?” she asks. 

He nods. “Yeah. I think it will.” 

“Then let me be there for you.” He doesn’t say anything. “I’ll work on my face. Promise.” 

That gets him to crack a smile. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Then great.”

“Great.”

“Did I just get replaced?” Parker asks. 

Veronica shrugs. “I like nice shoes too, you know.” 

Logan gives her hand a squeeze. 

Oh. Look at that. She didn’t even notice they were still holding hands.

#vm fanfic #lv fanfic #veronica mars #logan echolls #logan x veronica #p: logan x veronica #otp: the one person #lavellenchanted #never stories

[with-love-anu]

Arranged 3

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: You are forced to marry George when Voldemort rises to power in an attempt to purify the bloodline. Will you the two of you ever to terms with each other?

Warnings: Forced marriage (no violence involved!) 

Word Count: 1,007

Series Masterlist

You sighed, feeling your feet ache badly. An aftermath of wearing stilettoes; just so you didn’t trip and fall over your own feet. The Malfoy manor was the most elegant place you’d been. The party was everything you detested as a child. Crying to not be led in a place crammed by pretentious people who had nothing to do but judge others as the gathering dragged on. Clinking of high champagne glasses as the slow jazz did nothing to soothe your anxiety. The party dragged on and on as you reminded yourself why you had to attend it.

You had met your father. His face had visibly dulled since you last saw him and you had to keep up your smile as you hugged him.

“How have you been? Is the Weasley boy treating you well?” he had asked softly as you blinked softly.

“I’ve been well. George,” you started, remembering things back home. You sighed. “He treats me well dad. You don’t have to worry about him.”

And he did. Days had been quite different after George broke down in front of you. The tension was cutting, but your conversations were softer now. You would ask him about his latest product as he would show you what he came up with. His eyes sparkled when he talked about his inventions. He was extremely intelligent, you had to give him that.

He asked you more about your family, seeing you were so close to your dad. He listened and smiled as you told him all those years spend travelling around with your father. He surprised you. He always seemed to remember little things about you, how you took your coffee, your small quirks and habits. It warmed your heart. Your teeth clattered. You rubbed your arms slowly feeling the air cold against your skin.

You opened the door to the flat and rushed inside. Shutting the door with a clink, you clumsily removed your slippers. All you wanted to do was lay down. You moved towards the couch, plopping down and releasing a groan.

“You’re back!” you heard a voice as George came to stand in front of you. He looked amusedly at your posture as you pouted.

“Leave me alone, okay? Let me sit however I want,” you said grumpily, shifting to make some space for him anyway.

“That bad?” George sitting down.

“I mean, except the fact I was stared at like an insect, pretty good!” you said as George grinned. The two of you just sat there for a while, silence eloping you.

“Butterbeer?” he asked after some time as you nodded greedily.

You went to your room removing the dress you wore. You pulled the pins off your hair and scrubbed your face off all the makeup. Your head felt heavy. Changing into something comfortable you went towards the living room. George waited for you with a mug in his hand.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking a sip of the drink as it warmed your throat.

“I always thought you’d be into parties and all those galas, you know?” George said softly. You quirked an eyebrow. “Being bought up in riches and all. You surprise me, you always do.”

George’s eyes sparkled as you motioned for him to go on.

“People rarely surprise me anymore. It’s like I know they’re going to use me and then they just do. Or maybe I’ve started to doubt everyone I meet,” he said.

You slowly grabbed his hand running your fingers over his knuckles. George took your hand in his lightly.

“With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world;” you said softly quoting Erhmann. “I know the times are dark George. It’s very easy to lose all faith. But sometimes we gotta, you know? To stay alive. Hope. It’s important. You have to hold on to it so you don’t fall into emptiness.”

You interlinked your fingers with George as he looked at you with a soft smile.

“When I lost Kiara, my best friend, I felt like I was falling. That I’ll never stop going deeper into this bottomless pit. She was everything to me. She was the one who I went through it all, she never left my side.”

“What happened?” George asked as you took a small sip of the butterbeer.

“They killed her. The deatheaters. One night just ambushed her and her entire family,” you said looking down, remembering sobs that left you on seeing her that gloomy morning.

“Hey- hey-“ George spoke up, wiping the tears you didn’t know had fallen. You blinked.

“I’m sorry, I didn-“

“It’s alright,” he said looking at you warmly. He got up suddenly and moved towards one of the cupboards taking out a small rectangular box.

You eyed it carefully as George opened it and worked on it. A soft tune filled the room as he looked at you, glowing. You let out a small laugh. He kept the box over the fireplace and turned towards you, a mischievous expression on his face. He let out a hand towards you and your eyes widened.

“Come on, dance with me.” He said as you shrugged placing your mug on the coffee table, taking his hand.

George placed his hands on the either side of your waist as you chuckled, placing yours over his shoulder. You both danced to the tune, twirling and moving around. You glanced at George who was grinning. He was so close you could count the freckles on his nose. His eyes were round and deep but there was a shine to them which pulled you in. You never knew when the two of you just stopped. George blinked slowly, bringing his hand up to your face and gently caressing your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, as your eyes widened suddenly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said gulping.

You didn’t remember much that happened after. All you knew was that you danced through the night and felt content after a long long time.

A/n: So I know this was short, but I thought it filled in some details I was leaving out before. I will only continue this further if I see the reaction is fulfilling, otherwise I might as well leave the story just like this. Do let me know if you have any kinds of ideas on what might happen next. Feedback is the only thing that will motivate me to continue this story. 

And special thanks to @futurewriter2000​ and @blisfvll​ for helping me out!

#george #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #hp #harry potter #george x you #george weasley x you #Anu writes

[starbuckie]

All You Knead is Love Chapter Four: A Bit Untraditional

Challenge: The CBC 1k Writing Challenge by @captainscanadian

Prompt: Bakery AU

Pairing: Baker!Bucky x CEO!Reader

Warnings: Loads and loads of fluff, angst, mentions of PTSD and violence, pining, language as always, and slow burn

*TW: PANIC ATTACK*

Description: After being cut off by her family, Y/N L/N started up her own business. With her business finally rising to the top after three years, her family invites her back on two conditions: that she finds a man and gets married. Once she accomplishes that, then she’ll be able to access her family’s fortune again, which could help her business immensely. While that didn’t sound horrible to her, Y/N had never let herself have the time to meet other people, and has no time now. Running on a deadline for the company, she picks the closest person she can find: which happens to be the sweet, shy, yet hot baker who occasionally caters at her galas.

Words: 2,064 words

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been a solid two months, but I am back and hopefully kicking it with this series. I actually decided to rewrite the ending of the story from what I originally had planned, so I’m very very excited to write it. The holidays are coming up which has me excited, and if you haven’t already sen in a request for the Twelve Days of Fluffmas, you most definitely should. Again, this is for @captainscanadian​‘s writing challenge(which you should go join do it do it do it) and hope you enjoy :))

Thursday approached menacingly and rapidly. In the few days they had to prepare, Y/N had managed to move all of her belongings from her pretty empty apartment on the Lower West Side, and into the house that they had bought. She couldn’t be any more grateful for her real estate agent for being so snappy with the process of buying the house. The apartment she left behind had barely been decorated, so the process wasn’t too difficult for her to move in. Bucky on the other hand had started to bring boxes over, at Y/N’s slight insistence that her parents may ask to come over, but his house held so many memories that he knew it would take much longer. It was difficult for him to leave the home he had known for so long, full of cherished memories and the only stable home he had after Iraq. But he was ready to let it go.

The evening of the big engagement dinner Y/N and Bucky were frantic, rushing around the house after work to shower and look presentable, making sure they could pull the stunt off. Bucky’s nerves had been on edge all day, slipping out of the house at two am, hours earlier than normal to start his day. As he talked to customers and served coffee, the words he’d rehearsed with Y/N echoed in his brain, taking over every nook and cranny of his thoughts that he messed up several orders. This time he wouldn’t get nervous. It took him long months to feel the slightest bit comfortable in his own skin and around his neighbors, so if he ran his own bakery he could propose, right?

“So,” Mrs. L/N tried to conceal her disgusted face, “James, what kind of, er, delicacies do you make?”

So the conversation was less than great, even Bucky could admit that. Although Y/n had warned him ahead of time that her parents were not the most amazing conversationalists, he expected something better than this awkward discussion about his job. He loved his job. It brought back cinnamon flavored memories of baking at Christmas with his ma, his dad and younger sister yelling over Scrabble in the living room. Barnes Brooklyn Bakery was his pride and joy, yet he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious when both of Y/N’s parents looked down on it. 

“I make lots of things. It requires an earlier or later start time based off of what I’m making, because I want everything to be fresh. But my ma’s croissants are a big seller, and I know that Y/N loves my cinnamon rolls.” He sent her a soft smile, one that the woman in question couldn’t help but return.

“They’re amazing, mom, you have to try them. I swear those hands are absolutely magic and anything that’s made from them is as well.” She intertwined her pinky with Bucky’s on the table, admiring the way the candlelight illuminated the slope of his nose and the hollow of his cheekbones. God, this man has no right being this beautiful. “Bucky’s a hard worker and it shows.”

Y/N’s praise breezed through Bucky like a breath of fresh air, and suddenly his head was clear again, cheeks flushing. “Thanks, doll.” 

“And what about your pay, James? How much do you make annually? I have to make sure you’ll be able to support both you and Y/N. After all, her pay from her… makeup brand and her funds can’t be enough.” Fury raged through Y/N, Bucky could probably see it in her eyes as she opened her mouth, prepared to make her argument.

“I make well enough at Orion, dad, but that’s not the point.” Meeting Bucky’s stare from her peripheral vision, she almost panicked. The reason they were sitting there in the first place was so Bucky could get more money for his bakery. “Must you really bring up business at the table? I’m simply trying to have a nice dinner with my boyfriend and my parents, is it really that difficult to ignore money matters for once?”

Her parents eyed each other, as if they were speaking in their own silent, separate language and reluctantly quieted down. The rest of dinner was... tense, to say the very least, stiff questions about childhood and answers being reciprocated as well. Sitting in the presence of her parents, their food tasted bland, but that could’ve been from the anxiety of waiting for the proposal. They’d decided that Bucky was to pop the question while they ate dessert, just a simple small speech and a few tears. 

Bucky’s eyes kept trailing back to Y/N as they shared a matcha tiramisu, repeating the words “will you marry me” a million differents ways in his head. The small restaurant he felt comfortable with suddenly felt too small, Bucky not knowing when the proper time to get down on one knee. They hadn’t discussed this. Y/N had just said “whenever you feel is right”, but when was right? The whole idea just felt so wrong to him. Marriage was supposed to be loving, a holy union and commitment for the rest of their lives. He and Y/n didn’t love each other. The whole sham of being husband and wife, for money suddenly felt so sickening to him. The room was closing in on him and all he wanted to do was bolt out and never turn back. He was going back out, he was going to, he felt it, and-

“Marry me, Y/N.” Dead silence. Eyes from all the customers sitting were baring through the couple, seeing his innermost secrets and every one of them felt like a beam of light, boring straight through his soul. Bucky hadn’t even realized how he had practically yelled it at her until the restaurant had gone quiet and he was absolutely mortified. Y/N’s eyes were wide in shock, as this was not how she imagined it going. Yet, the show had to go on.

He instinctively dropped onto one knee, eyes trained at the ground because he was scared of what he would see in her eyes. Short puffs of breath left his mouth and he all of Manhattan could hear his heart pounding. “When we met, I knew you were the one for me. I knew you were beautiful, hell, y-you were gorgeous that day you walked into the bakery, but every time you came in after I got to know the beautiful woman that wasn’t just on the outside, but on the inside too.” His eyes started tearing up, from both his kind of true confession and the pressure that was being put on him. “I-I promise to love you with all my heart. You’re my best friend, my confidante, my soulmate, and I want to be walking by my side for the rest of our lives, doll. I want to be yours forever. What do you say?” 

Bucky lifted his gaze up to meet hers, hands covering her mouth as a soft sigh left her lips. Y/N couldn’t believe the beautiful sight. Shaking hands held a small cut diamond nestled in between two simple silver bands. Bucky’s hair was fluffy, newly so from his haircut the other day, clean shaven jaw showcasing the highlights of his cheekbones, and his eyes. She could go on forever about those pretty, blue eyes of his, but in the two years of knowing him, they had never been as pretty as they were in that moment, pretty blue eyes peering up at her.

Here he was, the man that she considered one of her closest friends in the city, literally giving his solitary life up to spend it with her. She wasn’t in love with him, not now at least, but those lingering feelings of hers tried to once again force their way back into her heart.

And this time, at the worst time possible, she let them. 

With a small but giddy grin, she nodded and placed her hand on his cheek. “Yes, Bucky, I’ll marry you.” 

He let out a long sigh at her approval, but the applause and cheers directed at him continued to make his heart race. Bucky slipped the ring onto her finger clumsily, his breath starting to become more labored as the cheers of “kiss” got louder. Y/N noticed his harsh breathing, and as she pulled him into an enveloping embrace she could feel the rapid beating of his heart the thin dress shirt he wore. “Can we go, Y/N?”

His whispered voice quivered, as if he were to break at any moment. “Of course, Bucky, I’ll go say goodbye and you can start heading to the car.” Grip on her waist tightened as she heard him grind his teeth. 

“Please stay with me.”

Of course I’ll stay with you. “Always.” The cheers had not stopped, their voices still ringing strong throughout the restaurant. With no hesitation, Y/N planted a kiss on his cheek, hopefully ridding themselves of the large crowd they had garnered. Her parents looked confused, both of their eyebrows raised at the couple who still had yet to do anything besides hug at their engagement. “Mom, dad, Bucky and I are gonna go home to… celebrate by ourselves.” 

Both of them heated up. “Just leave, we’ll take care of the bill. Your father will send you information for the fund over the weekend.” Mrs. L/N eyed both of them skeptically before saying, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

As soon as they got outside Bucky’s knees buckled, Y/N rubbing his back to try and console his breathing. His mind had grown hazy with wild thoughts, the crowd, the proposal, Y/N’s fucking perfume, it was all too much. 

It was crawling underneath a truck in the boiling sun, Sam screaming for him, the first blossom of pain and staring down at his left arm, bloodied and detached from his body. It was screaming at his little sister to leave when she brought him groceries, ripping up Steve’s letters from Iraq. It was hours upon hours sitting in medical beds, sitting on couches, staring at the ceiling while doctors attempted to get him to open up. It was panicking at the bakery when someone eyed his prosthetic for too long and women leaving dates with him at the diner on 5th street after he failed to tell them all the gory details about how he lost his arm when they persistently asked. It was every moment he had looked at Y/N, all smiles and kind eyes, and wishing for once that he could not be a fucking coward and ask her out. 

“I’m sorry.” The woman whispered. She now kneeled next to him, her right arm tracing shapes on his back, the light scrape of her nails bringing him to somewhat of a peace. 

“I don’t need your pity, Y/N.” The second it left his lips he regretted it, waiting for her to leave him alone. They all did eventually. But Y/N sat there, patiently, with a small tilt to her red-painted lips. 

“I’m not pitying you, Bucky. You’re one of the strongest and bravest people I know, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I just can’t believe I relapsed.” He let out a humorless laugh, his chin coming to rest in his palm. “I thought I was doing well, I always feel okay at the bakery, but I guess that the restaurant was too much. Haven’t been to one in at least a year.”

“It’s completely okay to have panic attacks and to relapse, okay, Bucky? Don’t beat yourself up about it, honey.” Kicking her high heels off, she brought herself down to his level, both of them sitting on the sidewalk as people passed them by. Though they were in New York, the city that never sleeps, she strangely felt calm. People didn’t even turn their heads at the two well-dressed people sitting on the ground. “I would’ve proposed to you, you know.”

“You propose to me? That’ isn't very traditional,” Bucky said with a breathy chuckle.

“To be fair, is any of this?” His grin was starting to grow back, and he squeezed her hand and looked out into the crowded street of the night.

“No, I suppose it isn’t.”

TAGLIST

@aiofheavenandhell​ @barnesjamcs​ @kitkatd7​ @adorkably​ @marvelnaturalock​

AKYIL TAGLIST

@aiofheavenandhell​ @barnesjamcs​ @kitkatd7​ @captainscanadian​ @93generation​ @drunkbucky @thebadassbitchqueen​ @asonofpeter​ @cosmicbreathe​ @adorkably​ @awesomeannanumber1​ @blubberingmess @every-marveler-ever​ @supraveng​ @delicatecapnerd​ @bitchwhytho​ @peace-love-hobbitness​ @learisa @marvelnaturalock​

#buckybarnes #james buchanan barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #james barnes #Sebastian Stan #sebastianstan #sebstan #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #reader insert #Self Insert #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfcition #all you knead is love #cbc1kwc #mcu #baker!bucky #bakery au #ceo!reader #au #fic. aykil four #𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

[l0mljeonjungkook]

Lost & Found | KNJ x Reader

➤Pairing - Kim Namjoon x (single mother) reader

➤ Warnings - no warnings for this preview.

➤ Will post on his birthday~~ 09-12-22 (Namjoon's birthday oneshot)

Posted

Preview

"When are you getting spliced?" you questioned him while wiping off Hyeon's face daubed with the ice cream all over his mouth.

"y/n why do you ask the exact question every dinner night!! besides I'm better off alone." He pointed at you with the chopsticks in his hand.

"What? I have a license to interrogate, a license called best friends since uh--", you count on your fingertips and Hyeon laughs at you catching a glimpse of you amounting to something on your fingertips, "since eight years, yaah!! after all, you're diving into the 28th year of your life, Mr. Kim!!" You chuckle a pure sham chuckle.

"Hyeon, tell your mom, to concentrate on her food." He instructs Hyeon, who's heartily licking his fingers overlaid with ice cream yet his almond-shaped hazel eyes, are shaded with a craving for more ice cream, and mischievous eyes spot chocolate ice cream on the table.

"Hyeon is bored with mom and you", you both crack up.

You look back at the man sitting opposite you, "No, but seriously, when are you jumping on to propose Ji-a, enough of coffee dates now! I want you to start a family", you didn't ask, you implored, however, honestly you don't understand why.

"Coffee dates?? Are you-- insane? Coffee dates?? I never really got into such dates with her, if you ask me!! Who the hell told you so?" He blurted but instantly looked at Hyeon as if the kid heard his shoot voice and shut his eyes, "I'm sorry y/n, I didn't mean to shout out loud at you. Just to be transparent with you I'm currently not seeing anyone nor will see anyone in the future. And if you got your answer then let's leave, I'll drop you two."

You honestly don't get, why he gets so pissed off with your question.

"No, Hyeon needs more ice creams"

"Baby, no--"

"Which flavor my angel wants?" He questioned Hyeon, with fondness in his eyes.

"Chocolate one"

Barely a minute ago he was ready to drop you two home but isn't it obvious, that his love for Hyeon is out of the world?

"Why do you get so painfully angry about your marriage"

"Cause I don't want to!!!"

"Mom--"

"She's a nice--"

"Mom mom--"

"Yes baby", you wiped his face again.

"Mom I want you to get married to my friend" he announced, eyes on his ice cream.

You chuckled, looking at the man sitting opposite of you, "friend?"

"Yaa mom, Namjoon, he's good mom, then I'll tell everyone that my friend is my dad too." He giggles, and you both can only ignore him.

This question caught you off-guard. It startled you but it wasn't unfamiliar. You have been subjected to this question by none other than you, yourself. It didn't amaze you that much but what blows your sanity was - question being asked by your kid in front of the man himself.

#kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon oneshot #namjoon oneshot #namjoon x reader #namjoon birthday #knj x reader

[chocoholicannanymous]

(Take) These Broken Wings (Glee) 8/?

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and you couldn’t pay me enough to take responsibility for it.

Post BIOTA: For someone who’d claimed to be his friend Blaine’s behavior sure left a lot to wish for. Hurt and angry Kurt begins to question his situation – and what he can do to change it.

POV: Kurt Hummel. Pairings: kurtofsky, blainchel. Slightly shady relationship-consent. Not Blaine friendly (no suprise at all).

So, not only do you get another chapter already (I know, what happened?) but it’s a long one. You’re welcome. Here’s hoping I can keep this up!

Previous: Part 7, Part 6, Part 5, Part 4, Part 3,  Part 2b, Part 2a, Part 1

8/?

“Mr Schue? Before we get started I have an announcement I'd like to share.”

While most of the New Directions grumbled Rachel ignored them and stood up. Kurt on his part was looking sharply at her, because something was off. Not only had Rachel not mentioned having a song, she hadn't left the seats to stand by the piano.

Yeah, something was up.

“Blaine and I have broken up. I listened to what you were saying, and I have been thinking hard about it, and the truth is that being in rival show choirs was just too big of a stressor on our relationship as was the fact that us being a couple made it so that you all couldn't trust me. It was a hard decision, but I couldn't do anything else. We're going to try and be friends still, of course, but that's all.

“Thank you for listening to me, and for showing me understanding in these trying times.”

With that she sat down, looking demure, and Kurt shook his head a little – a move he got away with only by sitting in the back row.

The only surprising thing here – besides Rachel not taking the opportunity to perform – was how long the breakup had taken. There had even been a betting pool, and “blainchel” (which really, it sounded like a venereal disease) had surpassed every single bet.

Even Santana, who Kurt felt should have been the most supportive in regards to bisexuality, had put them down at two weeks at the most.

He hadn't participated himself, for a number of reason, and in the end was probably the least surprised one.

Yes, Blaine and Rachel had been a very bad fit, but they'd also had a lot of reasons to stay together. Rachel hadn't exactly been subtle in her attempts to rub her new boyfriend in Finn's face, and Blaine... Well, Blaine had had something to prove hadn't he? After all Kurt, had basically called his attempt at dating Rachel a sham and Blaine had not liked that.

There was also Blaine's hints to Burt Hummel that his own dad had tried to make him straight.

Blaine definitely had something to gain from a continued relationship with a girl.

Oh, Rachel probably hadn't been the best choice for that, seeing as the two were not all that compatible. They were just too similar, equally eager for the spotlight, equally needy for attention.

Even if Blaine had decided he was attracted to girls- and Kurt still wasn't sure that was the case – Rachel would always be too occupied with her own need to be admired to give Blaine what he needed.

Case in point? It had taken one week for Rachel to announce a breakup after having being told off for Blaine being a risk for the New Directions. One. Week. She'd spent their entire relationship telling everyone who would stand still – and quite possibly a few that wouldn't – that her relationship with Blaine was all but written in the stars, as would their names be in the future. Together, of course, as they were just such a suited couple, both with the same dreams and ambitions and goals.

And yet as soon as Rachel thought said relationship was risking her solos Blaine was gone. In a fit of cruelty Kurt thought that they both had been looking more for a “biggest fan” than a partner.

Regardless, they were over now and Kurt hoped that it meant he wouldn't have to be subjected to Blaine again.

He cleared his mind of them both – such a waste of valuable seconds – and instead switched from pretending to listen to Mr Schue to actually doing so as the man described the latest development in their quest to not fuck up at Nationals. Oh, he didn't it call it that, but Kurt was fairly adept at translating Mr Scue-isms to reality by now.

Things are about to become interesting...

Kurt perked up and watched Rachel like a hawk. It would be very telling how she reacted to what Mr Schue was about to say – or at least, what Kurt believed the man was about to say based.

“So! To that end I've recruited some more members. Now, they won't be here until next week since I wanted to give you guys a heads up first, and I hope you'll welcome them.”

Eight Cheerios, two of them guys. Five Titans. Exactly the kind of people who never would have signed up on their own, and who most of the Glee kids would never want to sign up.

Everyone turned to stare at Rachel and when she stayed quiet – though, Kurt thought, not without a fight – they looked at him instead.

“What? Are you waiting for me to protest or what, faint in fear or something? We need the numbers, and it's not like we've done that great a job at recruiting on our own. I've worked with the Cheerios and while I can't speak for their singing each and everyone of them mean we can kick our choreography up another notch.

“As for the guys from the Titans... Well. I am going to trust that they're smart enough to not just follow directions – which they clearly managed during the halftime show – but also leave any ideas of bullying outside this room. After all, McKinley's supposed to be free from that now.”

“But, but, Karofsky's one of them!”

Which Kurt already knew. Dave had told him both about being approached and about considering it – It'll look good on college applications. Make me “well rounded” or some shit like that – and Kurt hadn't seen a problem with it. The opposite in fact. After all, Glee had helped turn Finn and Puck around (in varying degrees) and Kurt liked to think that it'd help do the same for more jocks.

“So? I'm sorry, Mercedes, but I am not seeing a problem here. Dave Karofsky has apologized to me. He has made promises to not just me, but to this school, and so far he's kept them. He has been part of my escort around school ever since I came back, and not once has he given me reason to fear him.

“If any of you want to have an issue with him, or any one of the others, joining us that's your right. Just don't expect to use me as a weapon in that fight. Because to be frank? Right now Dave Karofsky has done more to balance his scales than at least half the people in this room.”

And that shut them all down, just as Kurt had know it would.

Curiously, Rachel didn't say a word the entire time.

Another week and a half went by before the other shoe dropped.

It did so in the form of a phone call.

It wasn't a number from his contact list, but Kurt had thought it familiar so he answered anyway. He regretted it immediately.

“Kurt, hello.”

“Blaine.” Why? What did I do to deserve this?

“I was hoping we'd be able to meet up tomorrow, say at the coffee shop two blocks from Dalton? Would 2 o'clock suit you?”

Kurt had to struggle to make his voice work. Not only was Blaine calling him, but he wanted to meet? Was he asleep? Was this a nightmare brought on as punishment for having had a second slice of cheesecake after dinner? He pinched himself, and no, that hurt.

No such luck then.

“I'm sorry, but I have other plans tomorrow. Besides, I can't see what we would have to say to each other.” I definitely said everything I was willing to last time I saw you.

“Come on, Kurt. Don't be like that. Just come tomorrow.”

“Did you not hear me? I have other plans. I'd say sorry, but I'm actually not. Goodbye Blaine.”

When the doorbell rang shortly after 10 the next morning Kurt considered not opening. Somehow he wouldn't be surprised to find out that Blaine had called Rachel to complain about Kurt being mean, or unreasonable, and that she'd come to lecture him about kicking someone who was already down. The problem was that if it was Rachel then not opening would lead to either her ringing the bell again and again until Finn woke up and came to open or her being a bitch in school.

Neither was appealing, so he sighed and went to open.

Pro: It wasn't Rachel. Con: It was Blaine.

“Good morning Kurt.”

“What are you doing here? I told you I have plans.”

“Well, I knew you weren't being honest about that. Mercedes is at Rachel's, having some girl-time.”

Kurt waited for something more, anything, but nothing came.

“So what, you think I have no one to spend time except those two? Nice. I'm sure you'll be happy to find out that's not true. Also, there is such a thing that having plans on your own.”

“But if you're just doing something on your own then surely that can wait, and you can spend some time with me instead.”

“I suppose it could,” and Blaine's smile practically radiated superiority, “if I was doing something on my own, and if I wanted to spend time with you.”

The smile vanished.

“Kurt.”

It was just his name, but Kurt could hear so many things in it. “I'm disappointed in you.” “You're being ridiculous.” Too bad for Blaine that Kurt's done listening to those silent rebukes.

“I don't understand why you're pushing this. The last time I saw you at Dalton we hadn't spoken in weeks. Because you didn't want to.”

“You hurt me!”

“And I have apologized for that. Publicly even. After, I might add, trying to do so repeatedly. I didn't mean to hurt you, or make you feel like I was some kind of phobic, hateful person.

“You on the other hand meant for the other Warblers to shut me out, didn't you? So I guess we're even. I hurt you, you hurt me.”

“See? That means we can start over!”

“No, it doesn't. That's not something I want in my life, Blaine, that balance of payback. That's not healthy, and it doesn't end. After all, what happened was I said something stupid, which I said because I was hurt and angry, and that then made you hurt and angry, which made you act in a way that made me – again – hurt and angry.

“It's a vicious circle, and not one I want or need in my life.”

“Are you saying we can't be friends again? That we couldn't be...more?”

And wow, that came out of left field. It did explain a few things though, like why Blaine had gone so far as to go to Kurt's home though.

Huh.

Blaine was asking him out? Not that long ago that would have made Kurt deliriously happy, and he would have said yes before Blaine even finished the sentence. Now however, now was...different.

When Blaine had fallen head over heels for Jeremiah he’d serenaded the older boy and talked about marriage – all based on a few coffee dates, that Jeremiah hadn’t even seemed to think of as dates.

When Blaine had dated Rachel he’d done so based on drunken kisses and duets. He’d showed up at McKinley at least twice a week, to take her out for lunch or coffee, and always took her to the movies and Breadstix during the weekends. He’d sung to her as well, both in the choir room and backed up by the Warblers out in the quad.

And Kurt? Kurt got an offer for coffee in Westerville after weeks of silence, which wasn't even presented as a possible date. Only a question if they couldn't be something more than friends – and that much only after Kurt pushed. And there hadn't been even a hint of an apology for Blaine's behavior.

“Really? That's where you're going now? You and Rachel broke up, what? A week and a half, two weeks ago? And now you want to date me?”

“Why? Why now, when you weren't the least bit interested before?”

Blaine opened his mouth, probably to protest, which, no. Not acceptable.

“Don't. Back at Dalton everyone knew I liked you. Hell, you knew I liked you – I told you. But you weren’t interested in me. And that’s okay, really. Not liking someone is your prerogative. Just as everything else you’ve done. Sure, you could have changed your mind, that happens, but why now? You didn’t see me as a potential boyfriend until I left Dalton and moved on.

“So I really have to ask why? Especially since you haven't apologized for a single thing you said and did before I left. In fact, you came here still pushing that I hurt you.

“To be brutally honest, it feels as if you’re trying to guilt me into dating you. I said some things that were hurtful and rude, but I did apologize. You don’t get to hold that over my head for the rest of my life, okay? That’s just not how things work.”

Kurt took a deep breath, trying to reign in his emotions.

“We both messed up. Sure, it’s not a competition, but that’s just the way it is.”

Wait...

The coffee shop Blaine had suggested was one Kurt had been curious to try, and he had hinted at going there several times. Blaine had never wanted to go there though, but now he'd suggested it. Maybe he'd done so to please Kurt, and a couple of months ago that would have made Kurt ecstatic. Now it just made him angry. Also very suspicious. Me thinks there's something rotten in the state of Lima...

“Wait. If you were angling for a date, why make me drive all the way to Westerville? We both live here, and I know you don't usually stay at Dalton during the weekends. So why not ask me to meet up at the Lima Bean? The cinema here is a lot better than you'd think, so why not suggest a movie? Or you could have really signaled that you intended it to be a date and made reservations for dinner at Breadstix. I know you are capable of that.

“You had so many options, and instead you want to go to a coffee shop you dissed repeatedly while we were still on speaking terms and insisted we go to the Lima Bean instead. Why?”

Quiet.

“Tell me, or leave.”

Blaine pouted a little at being questioned, but broke down quickly.

“It wouldn't be fair to Rachel to go on dates here. I just can't do that to her. You know what people are like, what they say to her. What do you think they'd say if her boyfriend went from dating her to seeing another guy?”

Kurt hated to admit it, but Blaine did have a point. He could imagine exactly what people would say much to well. Understanding that didn't mean accepting being given only crumbles though.

“So you're saying...what? That protecting Rachel from possible fallout is more important than making me feel valued? At what point would your breakup be far enough in the past for a date that doesn't mean leaving town? At what point would you stop treating me like your dirty secret?”

Kurt looked at the boy he'd thought was Prince Charming and felt empty. Even as he was asking Kurt out Blaine was putting Rachel's comfort and reputation over his. And apparently that meant he wasn’t going to openly date another boy in Lima. Or was that “openly date Kurt in Lima”? Whichever it was, it still hurt.

“You matter” his dad voice whispered in his head, yet Kurt couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t. Not to Blaine. Because if he did, then surely Blaine wouldn’t act ashamed of him?

All this, after having been strung along and rejected for over six months before finally saying enough.

The sad part, the horrible part? Blaine seemed certain it’d work. Not that Kurt didn’t see why – he had, after all, been absolutely pathetic when it came to begging for Blaine’s attention.

Kurt wasn’t sure what was most pathetic now though: the fact that a part of him still wanted to say yes, just to have a boyfriend, or that the only thing holding him back was the boy who’d bullied him, and who’d sent him running towards Blaine in the first place.

He could see himself accepting Blaine’s proposition, could see himself going out with the other boy, pitifully thankful for someone actually asking him out, and just ignoring all the reasons why he shouldn’t. Sure, he was sort of doing the same when it came to Dave, but there was a difference: Dave wasn’t angling to be his boyfriend. Also, with Dave he had an easy way out. There wouldn’t be one with Blaine – not for him.

He looked at Blaine and shook his head. This was pointless.

“Don't bother answering. I am not going to go out with you regardless. Thanks but no thanks, I guess.”

Blaine's blush increased and he started spluttering out a protest of some kind (at least that's what Kurt interpreted it as.)

“Look. I'd like you to leave now. I have, as I've said repeatedly, plans. I don't want to be late because of you.”

“Late? Are you actually meeting someone? Who?”

“Nice to know you think so low about my ability to find people to socialize with. Not that it's really any of your business, but after everything that had been happening I decided I wanted to try and meet more LGBT youth. I had no idea there were so many people I could connect with around here.”

It had been heady, finding all of these teenagers that could relate to what he had gone through growing up, and who were willing to accept him as he was. Not all of them were out, but that meant less to him these days. Besides, when the lion's part of communication and socializing happened online “out” became a completely different thing.

Of course, he wasn't actually meeting any of them now, but Blaine didn't need – or deserve – to know that he was meeting Dave.

“Really? That's great! I could go with you, it'd be great.”

Sigh. There apparently was no way getting through to Blaine that didn't include a verbal version of a 2 by 4.

“No. I have plans. You are not invited. And quite frankly, I can't imagine anyone of my new acquaintances appreciating someone else tagging along without warning. You see, I learned something really important from you. It was something I already knew, but didn't really get. So, I guess thank you for driving the lesson home.”

“And what lesson was that?” Blaine looked a little cautious, which indicated that yes, he actually had a functioning brain.

“You don't out people. Goodbye Blaine.”

And he closed the door, without slamming it – he was tempted, yes, but the way his luck was running he'd crack it or something.

Kurt waited 15 minutes before leaving, just in case Blaine was standing outside waiting to ambush him. Still, as he pulled out of the driveway he kept an eye out for Blaine's car. And there it was.

It was just so Blaine. He had been told, explicitly, that he wasn't welcome to join Kurt and whoever he was meeting – a person Kurt had hinted pretty heavily wasn't out. And Blaine had just decided none of that mattered because he wanted differently. Selfish bastard. He was going to deserve everything Kurt was planning on raining down on him.

Going to the garage was a detour, and not one Kurt really wanted to spend time on, but it was his best bet when it came to getting away.

It being a Saturday meant that Hummel Tires & Lube was running on a minimal staff, for planned jobs and emergencies only. That meant there was plenty of space for Kurt to pull into the fenced yard and park behind the garage. Next he walked through the building, waving at his dad, and peeked through the window. Yup, there he is. Blaine had parked so that he'd be able to see if Kurt left – or so he thought.

“What are you doing here, buddy? I thought you were meeting up with some of your internet friends?”

“Yeah, I am. Only it seems I picked up a stalker.”

Burt looked at him, sharp and worried.

“Mhm. Blaine – from Dalton, remember? – showed up at the house, and for some reason he thought I should agree to go out with him.”

“I thought you said he wasn't interested like that.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought too. After all, not only did I not even try to be subtle, but in the end I straight out told him. His response to that was – more or less – to start dating Rachel. I haven't really spoken to him since he called me a bully for not being supportive enough of that.

“He froze me out completely after that, even though I tried to apologize so many times, and that didn't change after I left.

“Only now he and Rachel broke up, and apparently Blaine thinks I'm still waiting around for him to notice me. I don't know why, because I'm not that much of a doormat, but he sure seems to think so.”

Burt gave him another sharp look.

“You sure about that? Because to me it looks like you were willing to put up with a lot – not just from him either – to get a boyfriend.”

Kurt blushed. He was well aware of his mistakes. Falling at Blaine's feet again was not going to be one of them though.

“Damned sure, dad. If Blaine hadn't insisted on dating Rachel first, then I probably would have agreed. But now? After being passed over not once, but twice? No thank you. Yes, I want a boyfriend. But I deserve someone who will look at me first, not as a backup once all other options have been explored.”

Because that was how Blaine made him feel. Like he was the living version of “two last people on earth”, and damnit if he didn't matter more than that.

“Okay. That's fair. I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself. Now, what about stalking?”

“Well, when I told him that not only did I not want to go out with him but I also had plans – which I had told him when he called yesterday – he tried to invite himself along. Then he followed me here. After I told him he wasn't invited to come along, and that I had no intention of outing the person I was meeting.”

Kurt watched his dad's face turn red, and felt a bit guilty. His dad's heart attack wasn't too far back, after all. But. Needs must.

“Want me to talk to him?”

“Would you? I would be so grateful. And if you'd let me go out through the back I'd be even more so.”

Because that was why he had gone there, in the hopes of using the locked back gate few people thought about. Blaine would most likely never guess to its existence, and even if he did Kurt would be able to leave while Burt Hummel gave “the prep school stalker” a piece of his mind.

As Kurt drove off he kept thinking about Blaine's actions over the past 24 hours. It made no sense. Blaine really had treated him like the last resort. The faithful dog that would come crawling back for petting even after being kicked. And that really wasn't Kurt. Except...

He'd thought Blaine and Rachel a bad match because they both wanted to be the center of attention, something neither of them would get from the other. Kurt however had always been so happy to admire Blaine that he'd constituted a fanclub all on his own. And that, right there, held what Kurt saw as the possible explanation as to why Blaine was now looking to date him instead of one of Dalton's mythological gay or bi boys.

Kurt would have – before the shunning – been happy to make Blaine the most important thing in his life. And as he'd been shown over and over again, most people would never have looked at Kurt when Blaine was there.

Thirty minutes later, stretched out on a picknick blanket with a deliciously heavy body pressed against him Kurt smiled into kisses because Dave? Dave would never look at Blaine if Kurt was around.

Monday mornings were always a downer – coming from freedom and peace to McKinley was never fun, not even with the lessened bullying. This Monday however was in the running for most annoying of the year. In one word: Rachel.

She was laying in wait for him at his locker and started her attack as soon as he was within hearing.

“Kurt? Blaine told me he asked you out, and you turned him down? Why would you do something like that? Surely he must have misunderstood you?”

Blaine again. Kurt was beginning to wish for a time machine so he could go back and tell himself to stay as far away from Blaine as possible at all times.

“I was asking myself that same question for a bit, but if he's saying I turned him down then apparently he did get the message.”

She frowned, obviously not pleased.

“Look, Kurt, I know you have all these ideas about love at first sight and all that, but honestly? You have to be realistic. So it took Blaine some time to get to the point of asking you out – but do you really think it’s fair to punish him for that? You should give him a chance. After all, this is Lima – who else is going to–”

“What? ‘Who else is going to go out with me’, was that what you were going to say?”

And why wouldn’t she? This was Rachel Berry. Tact wasn’t one of her strengths – maybe not one of her character traits at all – and neither was empathy. This is Lima, remember? Remember what Dave said about you being his only option?

“Honestly? I know that this is Lima, and I know what that means. Hell, I was sure I’d have to wait until college to get a boyfriend, and you know what? I’m okay with that. I have more respect for myself than to go out with someone just because they ask” or at least I want to have “and I definitely have too much self-respect to go out with a guy that acts like I’m something to be hidden away and he’s only asking me because he’s out of options. You might not care about me and my happiness, Rachel, but I do.

“Yes, I turned Blaine down. Yes, I meant it. And no, I’m not regretting it.

“And frankly? It's more than a little pathetic for Blaine to have his ex try and sell him to someone new – even disregarding everything. It's also not at all attractive.”

The problem with Rachel Berry – be honest, Kurt, one of many problems – was that she was a lot more dangerous than she looked, and she didn't care about casualties as long as she got what she wanted. Well, he was not going to let one of those casualties be Finn.

“No, Quinn isn't cheating on you. I don't care what Rachel says, because unlike her I actually know what's happening. Yes, Quinn is doing something that she's not telling you about. No, that something isn't making out with her ex-boyfriend.”

“Then why isn't she being honest with me about what she's up to?”

“Because it's not her secret to tell. It's not mine either, so don't look at me like that. We all know you have a problem with keeping secrets. Not because you're a gossip, or untrustworthy, but because sometimes you forget who is and who isn't in on something. So, do you think you can trust me when I say that I know what's going on, Rachel's completely wrong, and you have nothing to worry about? Because I promise you, if Quinn was cheating on you I would tell you.

“Rachel's just stirring up shit, hoping that you'll dump Quinn and come back to her now that she and Blaine's over.”

“You promise?”

And Kurt's heart hurt as he looked at the boy that'd become his brother. Finn had believed Rachel's trash-talk because he was so used to being cheated on – and cheating himself – that he didn't know how to expect anything else.

“I promise. Now, want to help me finish up dinner?”

Crisis adverted. Hopefully.

Of course it wasn't that easy. Finn refusing to go along hadn't stopped Rachel – if anything it'd made her even more determined to dig up some kind of dirt. And in her wake had come Jacob ben Israel and his damned camera and pictures in the fucking Muckraker. He liked Sue Sylvester more than most students, and felt he owed her to a degree, but this was crossing a line he wasn't going to forgive in the first place.

Not from anyone involved.

And of course it all came to blows in Glee. Even worse? The newly recruited members were there to witness.

He'd been happy to see their numbers increase, but now he found himself wishing that Mr Schue had been as ineffectual as usual so that there hadn't been quite as large an audience to Sam's humiliation.

“No. Sam, you don't owe them an explanation. You don't owe anyone anything. Rachel's inability to keep her nose out of other people's business did this, not you or I. McKinely isn't safe for LGBT students and she knows it. She also knows that it doesn't matter if someone's actually LGBT or not, just what people believe. What Jacob ben Israel posted could have landed you in the hospital or worse, and Rachel was the one who led him there.

“Won't your dads be proud of you, Rachel, knowing what you've done?”

“I haven't done anything wrong! Quinn was the one sneaking around on Finn–”

“Shut up, Rachel. She wasn't doing anything wrong – she was being a good person. Remember what that is?”

Rachel wasn't the only one whose mouth fell open as Finn spoke. Quinn looked happy as she sent him a soft smile, and Kurt, Kurt was so damned proud of his brother.

“Finn!”

“No. Look, what I did to Sam–”

“We.”

“Fine, what we did to Sam was shitty. Yet somehow he and Quinn managed to keep some level of trust and friendship, and that's just... Awesome. And I am not enough of an asshole to get in the middle of that. I trust Quinn, and I trust Sam, and you don't get to say otherwise.

“As for Kurt, yeah, you don't get to say shit about that either. Sam's never been anything but cool with Kurt, unlike the rest of us, and I thought you of all people should know better than this.”

And wow, Finn had really worked on his “disappointed in you” look. It was quite frankly amazing. The others seemed to think so too, judging from how they reacted as Finn slowly turned to meet everyone's eyes.

“I hope I don't have to explain to anyone exactly how not at all acceptable it is to spread this shit around the school. I know I'd hate to end up in detention for fighting with a team mate, or for getting into it with a girl.” “That doesn't mean I won't” hung in the air, just as loud as if Finn had actually said it out loud.

“Mr Schue? Could we get back to what we're supposed to be doing here?”

And of course since it was Finn asking that was exactly what happened.

Kurt spent the rest of practice seething.

Rachel was waiting for him by the Nav after Glee, which meant she'd put on some really impressive speed to beat him there.

“Kurt. You have to listen to me. Finn doesn't understand how dangerous it can be, being LGBT in a town like this, but you and I, we do. You know how much danger Sam will be in if people think you are seeing him.

“There are already people whispering about you turning him gay, or worse. You remember what it was like before. Do you realize how bad this is for Sam? He could get hurt – someone could hurt him, because of this. Because of you. Do you really want that for him?”

“Of course I don't, but–”

It was like speaking to a wall, except less effective.

“I just...I think you should try and distance yourself from whatever it is that you think that the two of you have going on. You should get a boyfriend.”

And there it was. Find a boyfriend. Next she’d be pushing Blaine on him again.

Anyone else, Mercedes or Tina or Brittany or yes, even Santana, and he’d have been willing to think they were looking out for him, and Sam. But this was Rachel, and he knew her too well for that.

Maybe Rachel really did care about Sam, but, Kurt knew, for Rachel Berry it was always about her in the end. Apparently once her romantic relationship with Blaine was over they’d  allowed it to morph into some strange symbiotic friendship – which Kurt felt was probably less than healthy.

Blaine wanted Kurt to go out with him, and that meant Rachel wanted it too, meaning it should happen. After all, not getting what they wanted lessened the duos’ focus on being stars, or something like that.

Also – and okay, he had no proof for that part except for experience, but that was valuable enough – if Kurt wasn’t around Sam Rachel could focus on the fact that Quinn was, could try again to drive a wedge between the blonde and Finn, hopefully leaving Finn free for the taking.

Too bad Kurt wasn’t going to cooperate then.

“Look, Rachel, even if I did find a boyfriend it wouldn’t stop me from being friends with Sam, from spending time with him. In fact, any boyfriend worth the trouble would never try to stop me from that. And it’s not like something as simple as me staying away or the truth is going to stop the gossiping jerks of McKinley. It never has before.”

They'd both been subjected to enough gossip to know that, after all.

“Also, seriously Rachel? This is only a problem because of you. You had no business sneaking around and spying, and you most definitely had no right spreading those rumors. If someone hurts Sam because of that it won’t be my fault, it’ll be yours and Jacob ben Israel's. After all, we kept a low profile for a reason. No one would know about us being friends outside of the choir room if not for you and your big mouth and your damned stalking.”

“Then you need to do something about it! We'll find a girl to go out on a couple of dates with Sam – I'm sure Mercedes would be willing. And Blaine is still interested in you, all you have to do is stop playing hard to catch. This isn't the time to let your hurt feelings run the show, Kurt, this is when you need to be better than that.”

And wow, really? Did she crack completely while I wasn't looking?

“Thanks for that suggestion, Rachel. Now would you mind moving, I would like to get out of here.”

Except he couldn't stop thinking about everything. It all went round and round in his head, until the pieces started falling together in a very ugly pattern.

Twenty minutes after leaving Rachel behind in the parking lot Kurt rang the doorbell at the Berrys.

“Kurt! I knew you'd come to your senses! I have the perfect suggestion for you to–”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“What?”

“Did. You. Do. It. On. Purpose? Did you lead Jacob there on purpose? Did you plan this, Rachel?”

The words were coming out louder and louder, dripping with bitterness, until he was practically shouting.

Hiram Berry came running in to the hallway, took one look at his daughter backed up against a wall and the furious Kurt, and started trying to defuse the situation. Kurt wasn't having it though.

“I'm not leaving without an answer, Rachel. I also don't have a problem with airing this in front of your dad, so if you thought him being here would save you, think again.”

“What's the matter, Kurt? Whatever it is I'm sure we can fix it.”

“Right. Well, see, Mr Berry, I really doubt that. Unless of course you have a time machine hidden away somewhere.

“See, once Rachel and her boyfriend broke up – supposedly because having to keep the New Directions' setlist secret from him was just so hard – she started trying to talk my brother into dumping his girlfriend by claiming she was cheating on him. When that didn't help Rachel decided to keep stalking Quinn in the hopes to take pictures that'd make Finn leave Quinn and come running back to Rachel – or so I assume, since it's not exactly common for her to do things like this without personal gain.

“Now, maybe I would have let Rachel get away with this normally, because she didn't stand a chance of getting what she wanted, but thanks to her actions a good friend of mine is actually in danger right now.”

“I had nothing to do with those photos! And if you're so worried about Sam you should stay away from him and–” Rachel snapped her mouth shut, possibly realizing she was close to saying something that would only give Kurt more ammunition.

“You didn't take those photos, no, but there is no way Jacob ben Israel would have found Sam there without you. You already know he stalks you on a regular basis, so why would you believe he isn't now, knowing that you're single again?”

“I'm sorry, but would you mind telling me what you're talking about?”

Rachel tried to serve her version, but Kurt just talked right over her and informed Mr Berry about exactly what had happened.

“That is horrible, and we are going to come back to that later, but for now I'd like to know why you were asking if Rachel planned this.”

“Because I know her?

“No, sorry. First of all there's Finn. She went to him first, but he refused to listen to her, choosing instead to trust his girlfriend. It would be very much Rachel's style to believe that spreading the information would make Finn change his mind.

“Second, when people started asking Sam if he was involved with me in some way Rachel suggested that I could protect Sam from being called gay – and subjected to the same treatment I get – by abandoning my friend and start dating her ex-boyfriend. That I have no interest in doing so, and have in fact turned him down already, wasn't a concern for her.”

Mr Berry frowned and gave Rachel an appraising look. She soon began to blush, leading Mr Berry to frown even harder.

“I'm really disappointed in you right now, Rachel. I suggest you go to your room and think about what you've done, and we'll talk about this when your dad comes home. Kurt, would you mind answering a few more questions for me?”

It ended up being more than a few questions, but seeing as the result was Mr Berry leaving to talk with both Jacob and his parents Kurt was fine with it.

He was even more fine with it the next day when he found out the results. Jacob had lost his camera and his channel was gone. The Muckraker had been disbanded and that everyone involved had been forced to apologize to everyone they'd trashed – including Sue. And the Evans family had gotten some proper help, both with their living situation and looking for jobs. Mr and Mr Berry did not play around.

The fact that Rachel was subdued and refused to even look at Kurt was just the cherry on top.

~TBC ~

#chocoholic fics #kurtofsky #kurt hummel #dave karofsky #pov: kurt hummel #(take) these broken wings #not for the klaint of heart #not blaine or rachel friendly

[peterbishop]

48 for the fluffy asks!

048: “We accidentally got married in Vegas oops”

It was supposed to be an undercover assignment.

After much success with Jake’s mafia sting, the FBI reached out to Holt once more, asking him to send Detective Jake Peralta and one other detective of similar competence. The answer was easy: Amy Santiago.

Bags were packed and new aliases were given: Leo Adams, upcoming tech entrepreneur, and Marissa Cordova, a hotshot lawyer with cash to blow. They were to sit in on various poker and blackjack games, rubbing elbows with known drug lord, Carter Reichs, and hopefully come out with a few important arrests. It would take a week at most, and if anything, they would at least get access to free alcohol and big biddings.

Amy stares out the plane window. Brooklyn starts to become a speck, skyscrapers and city traffic blurring into a grey wash.

“Have you ever been to Las Vegas before?” Amy asks, turning to look at her partner.

“Once,” Jake says, focusing on the shitty action movie playing on the screen in front of him. “My mom and I went to surprise my dad.” He briefly sours. “I found him hooking up with one of the poker dealers.”

“Oh.” She never really knows what to say when Jake brings up his father.

“How about you?”

She shakes her head. “No, I never had much of an interest. I’m not that good at card games, and I’d rather keep my money than gamble it away.”

He snorts. “The FBI clearly picked the right person for this assignment.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’re not actually playing. We’re working—and I enjoy working.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, it’s just… hard to imagine you doing much else.”

Amy nearly objects, tell him that he knows her better than he lets on because they’re friends. She swears they’re friends. But since Teddy and Sophia, sometimes they find themselves in  limbo, and she, for perhaps the first time, doesn’t truly have an answer.

-

Amy throws her suitcase on her bed and starts pulling out her clothes, deciding which outfit she should wear for their first operation. Her typical pantsuit would endure too much ribbing from Jake and the red dress she threw in at the last minute is cut so short, she would need at least four shots in her before she ever considered it. Eventually, she decides on the white dress she has buried at the bottom. It’s classy and just enough revealing that she stands out.

She starts unbuttoning her shirt when suddenly, a door she presumed belonged to a closet opens and Jake steps through. She yelps, covering her chest with a pillow.

“Oh my god, Ames! Our rooms are connected!”

“Get out,” she hisses.

He stops, breaking into a grin. “Were you changing?”

“Yes! Because I’m doing my job!” Her eyes narrow. “Tell me you’re not staying dressed like that.”

He looks down at his outfit: old jeans and a worn (read: torn at the right armpit and fraying at the bottom) Die Hard shirt. “Uh duh, of course I will. I take undercover seriously.”

“Might be the only thing you do take seriously.”

“Now you’re catching on, Santiago.”

She shoos him away to finish putting on the dress and doing a quick touch up on her makeup. She tries to get back at Jake, bursting through their shared door in hopes of catching him in an embarrassing position. Instead, he’s readjusting his black bowtie.

“Wow, Ames,” he says with a laugh. “We look like the figurines on top of a wedding cake.”

“Oh god, please never say that again.”

He gives her a shit-eating grin. “No promises.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. We need to get going,” she says. “Intel says this is around the time that Reichs starts playing. If we want to get in on the same game, we have to go now.”

“Okay, okay, sounds good.”

She smooths down her dress once more and pulls loose fingers through her hair before making her way to the door.

He brushes past her and she swears she hears him say, “You look beautiful.”

-

They’re five shots in before she knows it.

“I can’t believe,” she slurs, “he didn’t show up.”

“It’s only the first night, Ames,” he says, grinning lazily. “We still have five more days.”

“We’re like, the best detectives ever,” she says. “What if those other cops from”—she shudders—“Los Angeles end up catching him?”

“There’s no way. We’re detective geniuses detectives… super geniuses?” His eyes bug out. “I’m so drunk.”

“Me too.” She smiles. “They never should have left us an open tab. I hold my liquor better than anyone else.”

“Oh noooo, you don’t. You’re lucky we moved on from four drink Amy. I think you were about to bang that guy over there.” Jake points to a man at least twenty years her senior. She pales. “Now you’re just confident Amy.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m doing better than you. That’s a fact.”

“In your dreams. At least you’re a lot more fun this way.”

“What way?”

“Stupid drunk way.”

“Pssshhh, I’m always fun. Alllll-ways. You saw me dancing over there a half hour ago. I was killing it with my dance moves.”

“Killing it, yeah, yeah, that’s for sure,” he teases warmly.

She grabs his wrist, eyes blown wide. “Let’s do more shots.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t six drink Amy depressed Amy?”

“Maybe,” she says, then breaks into a smile. “Let’s do two shots each then.”

“What’s seven drink Amy?”

“I have no idea.”

-

Apparently, seven drink Amy is bridal Amy.

“What if we got married?” Her mouth forms an O.

And seven drink Jake is down for anything.

“Oh my god, we should.”

Amy stumbles down to one knee, proposing with a loose beer bottle cap. “Jake Peralta, will you marry me?”

He places his hands over his heart in pure elation. “Amy Santiago, I will marry you.”

She throws herself in his arms, messily clinging onto his abdomen. He grins into her hair and around them, patrons and gamblers burst into applause. Hazily, Amy thinks something is off, that they’re doing something they shouldn’t. But then, his mouth touches hers, tasting of expensive tequila and lime, and she forgets what sober Amy might think of this decision.

They start jogging, tripping and giggling and faces split open with grins, to a Las Vegas chapel, fingers intertwined and bickering over who will take whose last name.

-

Her head is pounding. Her mouth is dry and she can barely open her eyes and fuck, her head is pounding. Hangovers have never been kind to her and this morning is no different. In her sleep-addled daze, she spots her dress lying in the corner, quickly realizing she’s only wearing her bra and panties.

She moves her arm and hits something, warm and solid and… Jake. Jake who is shirtless and Jake who is fast asleep and Jake who is wearing a cheap wedding band.

She glances at her left hand where she’s adorning a matching ring.

“Jake! Oh my god, Jake,” she says hurriedly.

He barely stirs. “Huh?”

She starts shoving his side, poking and prodding his ribs. “Get up, get up, get up. We did something, oh my god, we made the biggest mistake ever, oh my god, Jake, wake up!”

He sleepily blinks at her. “Did we kill someone?”

“No—we got married,” she says as if it’s a worse crime.

He brings his left hand up in front of his eyes and frowns. “Hmm.”

“Hmm!? That’s all you have to say!? Hmm!?”

“In case you didn’t realize, Santiago.” He rubs at his temples. “I’m a bit hungover.”

“Well, I am too, asshole, but hangovers go away. Marriage is permanent.”

“We’ll just get a divorce. Now, let me go back to sleep.”

She punches him in the shoulder. “Jake.”

He glares at her, snaps: “What, Detective?”

Her eyes take in his naked chest, and she further pulls up the loose sheet covering her near-bare body. “Did we…?”

“No way,” he awkwardly clears his throat. “There’s no way. We would have remembered… wouldn’t we?”

“We were pretty wasted,” she slowly admits. “And if I went back to four drink Amy…”

“No, no, there’s no way,” he flails with his words. “I can barely remember us being able to stand on our own two feet at the end of the night.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” An awkward pause. “I guess we should get ready for the day.” She starts getting up before remembering her appearance and feverishly waves her hand at him. “Don’t look.”

“I promise I won’t.” He buries his face into his pillow.

Amy makes her way to the shower before briefly considering in horror, “Didn’t I say something about consummating—“

“We didn’t, Amy!”

-

When she steps out of the bathroom, wearing a pantsuit she hopes he’ll loathe, he isn’t in bed. Amid the ruffled sheets and thrown pillows, she finds her phone and turns it on.

And then, nearly yells.

She stares at her lock-screen. It is no longer a picture of a crossword puzzle; rather, it’s a picture of them standing at the altar, grinning at each other, Amy in her white dress and Jake in his black tux, and it looks so much like a legitimate wedding picture, she can’t breathe. It feels real, how he smiles at her and she holds his hand tightly and their lips are inching from touching.

They look happy; they look in love. And she almost starts to believe it, believe in this sham of a marriage built upon liquor and drunken laughter, before coming to her senses and blaming her idiosyncratic thoughts on her grueling hangover instead.

She quickly changes the picture.

-

They don’t talk more than they have to for the rest of the assignment. Jake doesn’t walk back through their connected door and Amy doesn’t touch an ounce more of alcohol. They get their arrests by day four and head out on the first flight they can the next morning. The sun is barely up, a golden hue on the muted black horizon, and Amy fights off exhaustion with cheap airplane coffee.

Jake sits beside her, slowly blinking and about to succumb to his weariness.

“Flight should never be this early,” he mumbles. It’s the first thing he’s said to her that doesn’t relate to work.

“It’s better than red-eyes.”

“Hmm, maybe,” he considers, his words soft and cottony. “But flying is cool at night. It’s like you’re in space.”

She quietly laughs. “That’s one way to put it.”

No answer. She thinks he’s fallen asleep. Instead—“We’ll have to figure this out when we land.”

“I know.”

“I never thought I’d divorce you, Santiago.”

“We’ll get an annulment. It’s different.”

“If you say so.”

Another pregnant pause. The plane starts to move down the runway like it’s chasing the falling moon.

“I guess,” he murmurs, his head falling to her shoulder. She freezes at their body contact. “I guess I thought if we got married, it would be the marriage that sticks.”

He nods off before she can reply.

-

Amy realizes she’s still wearing her ring. At first, she chalked it up to her cover, ignoring the harsh glint of cheap gold in the casino lights for what it actually meant and proclaiming it as being a trait of her character instead.

But now she’s home in Brooklyn and she’s still wearing her ring.

She thinks to call Jake—they landed hours ago and she can guess he’s been sleeping the whole day like she has. Except, she isn’t sure exactly what to say. You have a lawyer right because we both need lawyers for the annulment to go through or let’s give it a week and then deal with this or do we tell our friends? Did you tell Charles? I swear to god, Peralta, if you told Charles—

There’s a knock at her door.

She walks over and opens it, revealing Jake Peralta, her partner and friend and… husband.

“Hi,” he says. He almost sounds shy, looking near boyish in his NYPD hoodie and faded blue jeans.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

Unsure: “Yes.”

He sits on her couch. She sits on the complete opposite end. They look at each other. Wait for the silence to break.

“Jake—“

“Amy—“

“You go—“

“No, you go—“

“Peralta—“

“Santiago—“

“I think—“

“I don’t want to—“

She holds her hand up. “You don’t want to what?”

He stares at his shoes.

“…Jake.”

He looks up at her, eyes dark and vast. “I don’t want to,” then, more quietly, “divorce you. And I know I sound crazy, but I can’t imagine divorcing you, Amy. I like you. I like you a lot. You’re my best friend and my partner and I know we don’t make sense on paper, but I think we could be something great. And okay, being married before we actually date isn’t a part of the plan I had for us—“

“You had a plan?”

“—but if it were to happen to any pair of people, I’m not surprised it happened to us. We’ve had a lot of crazy days and this week has been no different. Minus the wedding rings, of course,” he laughs.

Hesitantly, she asks, “You didn’t take yours off either?”

He shakes his head.

“This is crazy, Jake…” she says.

“But?”

“How did you know I was going to say ‘but?’”

He smiles, curved and brilliant. “Because I know you, Ames.”

“But… I really like you too,” she says, almost embarrassed by the capacity her heart already has for him. “It’s just… this makes no sense. This is so far out of our control. There is no binder on marrying your coworker before even going out on a date with him.”

“Then, how about you make that binder? And make a new plan for us?” he asks.

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. I’m your husband.”

They both burst into laugher.

She rolls her eyes. “I think we should stick with the term boyfriend for now.”

His eyes slightly widen. “So, you do too? You want to give this a chance?”

She leans forward, gently kissing him. He lets out a noise of shock before kissing her back. It’s soft and tentative, until she presses harder and he presses back, equally ardent. They barely make it to her bedroom, eager and hands slipping under clothes. Amy has been with other men, namely Teddy, but it’s never been like this. So easy and known and real. Like they fit.

And when she wakes up the next day, she realizes his left arm is slung across her body, his hand resting over hers. Their wedding bands shine in the morning light together. It makes her smile.

#my writing #jake x amy #this got so long winded idk what happened #b99 #santiagos-bitch #emma replies

[lovelyirony]

chilled

December is made up of many things, but warmth has never been one of them for Tony. 

December is cold because large houses are drafty and Tony never wears the warm kind of sweaters that are made with love and Christmas is all about commercialization and an awkward family dinner because it’s not like they could go anywhere. 

Think of the press. 

Think of the fact that Tony knows his family is a complete fucking sham and the only escape he gets is a balcony window with harsh air that clears his lungs and stings through bone. 

If he hadn’t made a promise to Jarvis that he would stop smoking then by god a cigarette would feel fantastic in between his two fingers as he looked out at the landscape. 

Being wealthy buys property that’s exclusive, probably shouldn’t be as large as it is, and it gives you an incredible feeling of being lonely all the time. And when there is snow softly falling and dampening all of the sound, it makes you go a little bit stir-crazy. 

His mother plays Tchaikovsky on the piano. She plays a lot. He used to play when he was eleven and his fingers would move so fast and he’d play it all and his mother would grin but the thing is, he can’t feel the music, right? 

People say that when you play an instrument, you should feel it. Tony’s not sure if everyone’s lying to themselves to cover up the feeling that they know they are frauds or if Tony genuinely probably has a problem with himself. 

(It’s probably the latter, but when you have a dad who probably has a fear of therapy, you don’t go to said therapy and then you find newer ways to cope that will be unpacked in twenty years when you go to the therapy and your therapist will tell you issues that you sort of knew about but you’re not really thinking about yet. Shit like that.) 

Tony stares at drawings. He does this every year and it’s his sort of family tradition except it’s not really a family tradition it’s really his own. 

Norman Rockwell. A good artist, one that Tony envies because he draws all of these scenes that convey such a warmth and Tony thinks he read somewhere that he used people that he knew as models for the works and wow. Just wow. 

Tony kind of wonders what it would be like if he came home from college and his parents would kiss him on the cheek and his father would clap a hand on his shoulder and ask him about classes. 

But that really seems all too much like Leave it to Beaver and on a deeply personal level, Tony finds that show to be domestically terrifying. 

Christmas dinner is boring. It always is. Because after Jarvis leaves on Christmas Eve with all of the cooking done (just warm it up in the oven, Sir) then they sit down. Alone. 

“Isn’t it lovely that we’re all together?” Mom says, because she’s said that every single year since he was fourteen and learned to drive and was probably out every single week because it was a fucking escape from hell. 

“Yes,” Howard says. “But I can feel your attitude from here, Anthony. Straighten up.” 

“Got it,” Tony murmurs. “But it’s Tony.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Howard scoffs. “Who in the hell calls you that? Besides the tabloids, which you told us you would stay out of.” 

“I have, I got rid of that t-shirt you saw six months ago,” Tony mentions. “And lots of people call me Tony.” 

“The people who matter?” Howard asks and Tony hates this question, hates with a burning passion. 

“To you? No. To me? Yeah.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Howard asks. “Are you saying that business doesn’t matter to you? 

Finally. Some fucking excitement. Because Tony knows that while he probably could not tell you Howard’s birthday on any given day or what his favorite song was or whatever it was you were supposed to know about your father, he did know that Howard had a temper that rose to every occasion. 

“Don’t be stupid it’s never fit you quite right,” Tony retorts. “You know I care about business and I care about SI. But the board directors you have right now are all in their fifties and sixties like you and you bet your ass that they won’t stay into their late nineties because they have wives to cheat on and yachts to buy to fuck up the coasts.” 

“Enough,” Maria interjects. “Enough from both of you. It’s Christmas, we are not having an argument at the dinner table.” 

“It’s the only conversation we get all year, why stop now?” Tony taunts. 

“To your room. Now!” Howard thunders. 

An escape, thank god. 

Tony wasn’t sure how much it would take to piss off his parents on a holiday. 

He calls Rhodey, who is grateful. 

“Holy shit I forgot about how much my family won’t shut up,” Rhodey groans. “How are your parents?” 

“Horrible and bad actors, the usual,” Tony says with a shrug. “Jarvis made cream cheese coffee cake this year. I’m seeing how long I can hide it from them. I bet they never find out.” 

Rhodey laughs. 

“Well listen to the new family gossip of this Christmas...” 

Rhodey tells him about an aunt who brought a new boyfriend over and said boyfriend is very disconnected and does not like small children, so obviously he will not last more than another month. 

“By the way, Mama has a sweater for you, when are you gonna come get it?” Rhodey asks. “I’m not mailing that shit to you, someone’ll try to sell it.” 

“It’s a Mrs. Rhodes’ original, who could blame them? The craftsmanship...” Tony trails off. 

Mrs. Rhodes’ sweaters were the stuff of legend. They were also more than half of Tony’s winter wardrobe. They were the ugliest things on the planet, and not even really intentionally ugly, she just made them that way. 

They were Tony’s favorite. 

“What about now?” Tony asks with a sigh. 

“Me, bringing Tony Stark to a family party? Scandal!” Rhodey mocks. “But yeah, let me ask mom.” 

There’s a muffled call and Rhodey’s mother asking if it’s really okay with the parents and Tony lies and says that it is because really his parents couldn’t give a shit and he’ll just leave a note. 

(Fun story time: when Tony was eight they forgot him at an airport and he was there for fourteen hours before he started to cry and asked to speak to Jarvis, who had called about Tony with Maria, who had said he was having a ball at the pool. 

True fucking story.) 

So Tony drives in his car to the Rhodes residence, which really isn’t that far. Forty-five minutes. 

The street is lined with cars and some family down the street is gawking at Tony’s shiny car that he’s restored himself and maybe he’ll take Rhodey to see it when the crowd thins out. 

Rhodey’s family is hushed when Tony enters, although Jeannette laughs, brings him into a hug, and announces to the whole family that, 

“Hey everyone! This is Tony, he’s the bastard who steals all of my blackberry jam.” 

“Don’t say bastard in front of the kids,” Rhodey retorts. “They might think you’re a bitch or something.” 

There’s a round of laughs and just like that Tony slips on his new Christmas sweater, learns that people actually do drink eggnog in the holiday season, and gets into a passionate debate with Uncle Harold about the worst Christmas song ever made. 

And for the first time in a long time, Tony feels warm. 

#christmas #lovelyirony writes #tony stark #ironhusbands #rhodey #listen rhodey deosn't give a fuck

[illuma-can-you-not-i]

Every time Sojiro Sakura was the entire Phantom Thieves' Dad: Akechi

Sojiro may be getting older, but he certainly wasn't getting any dumber.

He saw the pain behind Akira's eyes when he stepped through the door after being held in police custody and--god--getting shot in the face. He had no trouble finding the bags under the poor boy's eyes after a sleepless night. He heard the cracks in the boy's voice from screaming in his nightmares. He remembered, clear as day, when the poor boy stepped through his cafe door and ran to him in tears. And since then, there's been a hint of sadness, of grief, every time he spoke. For a while there, he retreated back into his shell, turning into the quiet, resigned boy he met in April, who just stood and nodded and took whatever was given to him.

So when the light-brown-haired teenager responsible for all that trouble, all that pain, casually stepped through his door, he just about choked on his cigarette.

"You better as hell have a good reason as to why I don't send you out right now.", the man growled. Despite the offensive tone, though, the teen didn't seem intimidated or apprehensive. In fact, it was almost as if he hardly had any emotion at all. "...I just came back from the dead?", he attempted with dry humor, wincing as he felt the energy in the room. Sojiro gave him a cold glare. "...And... I'm here... to apologize.", he admitted with a much softer tone. Sojiro scoffed. "You tried to kill my son, tried to frame my kids, all for some political sham. How do you think you could possibly apologize enough to have me forgive you?"

Akechi gave a long, quiet sigh. "I do not require your forgiveness. I am simply here to tie up loose ends.", was his reasoning as he carefully took a seat at the bar. His tone was quiet, and his wording was slow and deliberate; he was choosing his words very carefully.

"You see, I would like to say that my mental state is a recent development, but...that would be a lie.", he started, staring at the dark drown wood of the counter with a fixed concentration. "I admit that I may not know you all that well, but I doubt you've ever had to deal with abandonment, Sakura-san.", the boy who had eyes far too old for a teenager's almost whispered, barely glancing up at the man before returning to stare at the countertop. The day that he was given the news of Wakaba's passing came to mind. The first time he had looked into Futaba's eyes since she had followed after. "I doubt you've ever had to deal with the feeling of hopelessness, the despair that comes from it. The realization that you never had a purpose, that you didn't belong in this world.", he described in a smooth tone of voice, as if he was telling a whimsical story to a child.

"I was a nuisance, and no one wanted me. I had no chance of going on. So, when a man in power offers you a job position that allows you to be a monumental stepping stone in a grand scheme of change, to bring about the better of society, who was I to even consider denial?"

Goro still remembers his own awakening, clear as day. The day, the hour, the moment Robin Hood offered to allow him to grant justice to those who had been cruelly turned away from it. He also remembered the first time Loki offered him the better deal. Justice was only part of his desire, he had realized. It was revenge he was truly after. Even if it was secondhand. Revenge for the people who turned him away, revenge for the sorry excuse of a father who had left him, revenge for the group of teenagers, actual children who had fought against him, everything he had stood for, and yet, naively, still tried to treat him as an equal.

But he never was.

That much has always been obvious.

"Cool story, still murder.", Sakura remarked with a cold tone, trying to withhold a scoff. All the sob stories in the world don't make up for the fact that he is still a murderer. He consciously and intentionally took lives, while having every opportunity to step down, to say no, and didn't.

Akechi didn't seem taken aback in the slightest, however. In fact, he looked to the man, as if expecting him to insult the teen further. He looked back down at the cup when he realized it wasn't the case. "True. I truly have no excuse for my actions. I had become twisted. I was cruel and ruthless and delusional.", he described, his own crazed laugh echoing through his mind like a ringing in his ears. "But now, by some divine power, I suppose, I stand here again. And this time, I'm going to make sure that I put my best foot forward.", he finished, giving Sakura a little fake smile that looked all too familiar to the one he would flash on TV to persuade an audience. Needless to say,  it didn't work.

"That's great and all, but how do I know I can trust you?" Akechi smiled, clearly expecting this question. "Well, for one, I'm no longer a 'Detective Prince'. I don't have any sort of authority; if that soothes your worry any.", he started with an apathetic tone. Sojiro furrowed his brows in confusion and a little bit of surprise.

The young man looked back down at the counter after seeing his expression. "Surprisingly, the police force was unwilling to give a man who was supposed to be dead his job back.", the harsh passive-aggressiveness in his voice was enough to make the man grimace. "That's rough, buddy.", he remarked, offering a light-hearted sort of sympathy. Akechi huffed out a bit of a laugh in response. "I just can't believe they replaced me so quickly.", he remarked as Sojiro put a fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

Glancing rapidly between the cup and the man, Akechi slowly took the cup and gave a little sip. A nostalgic feeling swept over him, almost overwhelming his senses. He almost welcomed it, though trying to fight the feeling of the comforting atmosphere letting him relax. He was here on a mission: to apologize, explain himself, and begin the process of turning over a new leaf. And so, he continued on.

"Secondly, everything I could have listed as a motive turned out to be a hoax, planned on the basis of my utter ignorance. Just getting used again, with the plan of getting swept under the carpet when all is said and done.", he described, taking a long sip of the warm beverage, keeping the cup in his hands as he thought aloud. The teen shook his head, a look of frustration at himself taking over.

"It was plain as day, too. But I actually thought that a man who employed me to take out his enemies while he put on a public face was actually going to go through on his deal." As he spoke, his eyes glassed over, void of any emotion. He took a final swig of the coffee and barked a short, humorless laugh. "God, I'm gullible.", he chided under his breath with a heavy sigh.

Akechi set his money on the table and stood up, bowing in gratitude for the hospitality. "I'm off to the courthouse. See if they can legally make me not dead. I'll contact the others when I'm done. May get a haircut while I'm at it.", he listed off, absent-mindedly grabbing the end of a strand of hair and twisting it beneath his fingers.

"Oh, Kaori runs a salon not far from the subway station.", he offered, before his mind finally clicked with what had left his mouth. He really just called Ryuji's mom by her first name, huh. "She, uh, she's cheap, in comparison to most in the area. Does a good service. Plus, if you manage to convince him to go with you, I'm pretty sure she does Ryuji's friends for free." "I didn't realize you two were close." Sojiro shrugged, crossing his arms as he looked away in embarrassment. "It's a recent development.", he quickly explained, trying to get away from the conversation topic.

"Am I on good terms with you?", the teenager slowly asked, looking down at the floor in anticipation. Sojiro took a huff of his cigarette, taking the opportunity to really get a look at the kid before making his decision. The way he stood there, awaiting his decision, reminded him an awful lot of Akira when he first walked into the cafe. In that case, the two of them did seem awfully similar. Both were dealt a shitty hand from the beginning, given an opportunity to fix it, and that's where they began to separate.

A part of the man groaned, going on about how he should have kicked him out from the start, not to listen to a word that this guy had to say. But another part of him knew that people could, can, and will change. After all, Akira was far from the same kid he was back in April. Maybe Akechi could change too, if given the right push.

"...Getting there. Starting, at least.", he summarized. Goro perked up, looking at the man with wide eyes; he was genuinely surprised by that answer. "More specific, please?", he asked, his voice barely above a whispering volume. The man sighed, scratching his chin as he tried to put the details into words. "For everything you put them through, both my kids and so many other people, I still don't forgive you, not for a second, but... I won't turn you away at the door."

The wide eyes softened, showing a sign of relief as the teen visibly relaxed at the response. It was just speculation, but Sakura thought he had seen a spark of joy in his expression as well. A more genuine smile began to take form as he looked at the man, and kept his gaze there. "That's pleasing to hear. In that case, I hope to see you soon, Sakura-senpai.", he bid as a farewell, bowing again before making his leave.

#persona 5 #sojiro sakura #goro akechi #this was so hard to write #i'm not an akechi fan #not at all #Fatherson #kind of #if you squint #I think he's better in Royal though #this one' s for you fangirls #apologies

[xxloneblackwolfiexx-archive]

CONTINUED FROM HERE  @itsagentzero​

“Well, too late. I’m worrying already. I am worrying in this very moment.”

Blunt. If there was something you could tell about Chris Laverty right away is that he was blunt. No beating around the bush for him, and so he did not try to find words to coat his feelings either, or to make them at least sound less raw.

“And the fact that you do that thing where you just shut off completely and deal with everyting in silence just makes me worry more.”

Morgan was so used to people not SEEING through his lies when he told them he was okay, by now, he was slightly unsure on how to respond to both of Chris’s blunt statements. He’s only known Chris for a few weeks but it already FEELS like the other man knew him and his unhealthy coping mechanism by heart. More than his own family did it seemed in this present moment.  His Dad was oblivious to his pain when his mother was around, and she was around often these days. Mainly to keep an eye on him, which was to be expected, since she didn’t want him confessing to his father about her INVOLVEMENT  in getting his claims of assault dropped. His Dad would only call the police back — and she would be locked up in prison for a very long time. For perverting the course of justice by falsifying her clients witness statement, that allegedly claimed he was in a different state on the night when the assault had taken place, so he couldn’t possibly have been there, at the time. Clearly, her son was lying for the SAKE of attention--- like always. It wasn’t the first time she thought her son was a attention seeker nor would it be the last.  His mother declaring he was a liar  in front of credible police officers, who had been nothing but kind to him throughout the entire grueling interview process, had hurt him more than he could put into words. It had left him feeling very exposed and had forced him into withdrawing  his statement later on that  afternoon. What was the point in giving evidence in court  if your own mother thought you was a sham? There was no point. It would be no more effective than shouting at the wind. 

Crimson red eyes look DIRECTLY into Chris’s as his hand hovers over his shoulder, stays there for a moment before deciding touching him wasn’t the best option right now. His soft gaze carries so many emotions now. Pain, sorrow, guilt.His mother should have loved him instead she had done horrible things to him.Things that would stay with him forever.  He would NEVER be good enough for her. He saw that now--- and  maybe that was why he had stopped trying to prove to her that he was something worth hanging on to. Something worthwhile.

“It’s the only way I know how to cope with all that has happened to me right now, Chris. Because if I don’t shut down I will fall apart completely. M’no good to anyone if I fall apart, ” he begins, voice quiet and it is apparent he doesn’t want anyone else in the coffee shop to hear their conversation. “A man spiked my orange juice with drugs when I was at a night club with my friends the other night. I came round and discovered he had tied me up and… hurt me while I was still out cold. He did things to me no normal person should do to another living creature. I went to the  police and showed them my injuries.I even drew them a picture of the man who did it. And at first they believed me until my mother found evidence that claimed I was lying. A witness statement that allegedly claimed her client was in a different state on the night of the attack, so it couldn’t possible have been him. I think she forged the statement to get her client off the hook.  ” He shrugs just a little chin DIPPING  to rest on the back of his scarred hands as  crimson red eyes shine with a wetness that makes him feel immediately self conscious. No he refused to cry in front of Chris— in front of the other customers sitting at the tables standing behind them . Instead he swallows the lump sitting in the middle of his throat and curls his other hand pinned by his side into a tight fist.   

“They stopped believing me after that and later on that afternoon I decided to withdraw my statement. I mean what is the point of standing up in the court of law if your own mother declares your’e a liar.” He murmurs, tone thick with anger, and it takes all his willpower not to scrape his claws across the wooden surface of the table. He takes in a deep breath to calm down, one of his eyeballs twitches. This isn’t the type of place to lose control in, he thought immediately. “I’ve never understood why my mother hates me so much and I don’t think I ever want to know. M’just glad I take after my Dad then her.” 

#itsagentzero #/ Runaway / ( TEENAGER VERSE ) #/ tw:mentions of abuse / #/ tw:mentions of police investigation / #/ putting this under read more just in case / #/ Waiting black wolves laying in the snow / ( QUEUE )

[kastlenetwork]

kastle + laguardia :)

Laguardia is an airport, right? Lmaoo I’m so stupid, I had to google it. I’ve never been to New York, I only know about JFK. 

Karen isn’t really sure what her plan is, now that her father has made it abundantly more clear that she is not welcome home. The rage and pain of the loss of Kevin and the roll of which she played still ever present in his every interaction with her. And she understands that, she really does. It’s not as if Karen has forgiven herself for driving them into a battlement of crunching plastic steel and shattering glass – she doesn’t expect her father to feel much differently. She can still see the red of blood staining the backs of her lids, whenever she closes her eyes – especially now, as she finds herself on the run from more trouble she’s shoved herself into where it she didn’t need.

It was stupid of her to go to the hotel and gain entry into his sham of a prison – she recognizes a plan built on the back of desperation when she sees it, when she carries it out on her own. But, the burning idea of “maybe” and “if he only just…” was too strong for her to not gamble the odds – that Wilson Fisk would reach across the table, after she confessed her most recent crime ending in the red stain of another, and harm her in some way anyway that would get him put back where he belonged.

A stupid plan that didn’t work and she should’ve known. 

But, Karen thinks as she stares forward to a little kid playing with a tiny toy car across the discolored carpeting, doing nothing does nothing and she will never do nothing again. 

Her father had hung up on her, despite the sounds of her sniffles she is more than sure that he was able to hear through the line, in an alarmingly quick fashion and she’d had less than no time to plan her next move. She knew she was being hunted by someone masquerading as Matt and far more deadly. She knew, better than most, that Fisk was powerful beyond measure. This will be the second time he’s had other men do his dirty work and try and take her out – her mind raises a phantom hand to rub at the span of her neck, where the bed sheet once wrapped. Her only option was to get out of New York for awhile, hunker down and lay low.  

It’s not like she had a job to do, anyway – what with the whole being fired thing.

And that’s what she’s doing. She just needs her flight to come, so she can get out of the busy and dangerous city to Bumfuck, USA – or wherever her ticket is to, she can barely remember. Definitely not Vermont. Her father obviously wouldn’t let her in and she figures the rest of the family will follow. She doesn’t want to endure the images of her Granny Louanne (or any other family member who would dare open their doors to her) ripped apart and riddled with oozing burning holes, anyway. 

How many people that she loves can she be she damned to get killed? She can’t have any more of their blood on her hands. She can’t. There’s only so much a person can recover, before they’re broken beyond repair.

Karen’s mind is so occupied with worry that she only notices the presence coming closer, as it’s already placing it’s weight in seat next to her. She keeps her eyes on the child while he plays and remains as calm as she’s able, as her hand immediately inches it’s way into her purse, before recalling with a internal curse that she has nothing with her to protect her. She couldn’t very well bring a gun into LaGuardia – that would be thrusting herself into the spotlight, instead of sinking away into the depths of the dark shadows. 

How many mistakes can she make in the span of two days? How many decisions can she make that are going to get her fucking killed!

“Chicago, huh?”

Karen whips her head to the right, her ears not believing what her eyes suddenly see – her mind not registering the truth. 

Frank tilts his head and lifts his arm, bringing a cup of coffee to his lips, “Good a place as any. Big enough to hide, familiar enough to feel like you stand out.”

“…Frank?! What are you–” she shakes the fuzz out of the space between her ears and drops her voice down to below a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“Got a call from David about some trouble,” he shrugs and Karen takes in the sight of him. She hasn’t seen him since the last time she was kidnapped (and isn’t that a joke if there ever was one – the last time she was kidnapped, shit) where he stood upon a roof and shot at faceless never ending ninjas. (Ninjas! What has her life come to?) “Punched a bunch of fucking buttons on a computer and did that thing where he stalks people ‘til he gets what he wants…found you here.”

His hair is short, again, and the beard the was swarming his face last she saw him long gone. His eyes are bright as they rest upon her face, but alert in a way that hers accidentally stopped being an hour ago, scanning the airport for the both of them. But, best of all, there’s no purple and yellow marks upon his face – it’s as clean as ever, only faint and faded scars of old painted against his skin. And there’s a merry clench around her heart at that clear canvas, just as there was when he’d called out her name on the street and asked to come to her home.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he’s talking and watching her as she watches him.

“Chicago?” she glances down at her ticket, clutched in the hand not grasped at the nothingness in her purse . “Yes…Chicago. Windy…Safe.”

“You know I would’ve come.”

Karen squints her eyes and mimics the tilt of his head, “Do I know that, Frank?”

He nods in an absentminded manner and sweeps the room. He’s not contacted her since he left through the top of that elevator and he knows that as much as she does. “That’s fair,” he hums. “I should have made it clear. I was…busy.”

“Not in the usual way,” she gestures towards his face.

“No, not in the usual way.”

Karen pulls her hand out of her bag and pulls it into a fist, “That’s good…Frank.” She opens her mouth to say more, but a monotone voice sounds out above their heads signaling boarding to her flight to apparently Chicago. Karen hovers for a moment and pulls her eyes back to the child, who’s parent is pulling him up off of the floor. Despite how it’s set her mind off axis, Frank’s sudden appearance doesn’t change the dire consequences of the situation, so she stands abruptly. When Frank does the same, she turns back to him, with a question in her brow and panic seeping out of her pores. 

She really doesn’t have time for a famous Page and Castle bounce around, lives are on the line and she has to get out of New York.

“Chicago, huh?” he repeats, pulls another drink from his coffee, and holds up a ticket in his other hand and the breath rapidly leaves Karen’s lungs. 

He’s coming with her? 

To Chicago? 

Her own dad told her not to come.

“You can tell me all about Fisk when we get there. Shit, you’re always gettin’ yourself into trouble, Karen. I do not understand it,” he looks both exasperated and impressed – which is often how she feels about him.

“Yeah, well so are you,” her whisper raises slightly, sharpens with a touch of hurt that she’s not really interested in exposing to him. Especially not now, when everything is so much worse than Frank Castle not pushing through his own fogs to call her. “You’re the king of getting yourself into trouble, I seem to recall a certain trial.”

“Yeah, now that was a party…Guess we’re both willing to throw everything away to get to some sorta justice.”

She watches him reach down to a backpack that she hadn’t noticed and gesture towards the line that’s formed, eyes ever vigilant. “You could’a gotten a ticket to California or something. It’s fucking cold in Chicago, right now.”

She brings them to into the line, “Next time I’m running for my life, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

He huffs out a laugh, “We both know there’ll be a next. Too nosy for your own good – you’d be damn good friends with David, actually.”

She looks back at him, “…I’m trying to be damn good friends with you.”

“Yeah,” he nudges her towards the lady looking to scan their tickets. “I know, Page.”

I gave up at the end ✌ ✌ ✌ writing is hard ✌ ✌ ✌ it’s not three lines ✌ ✌ ✌

#lololz #ninzied #ask #kastleff #kastle #txt: chey #ours