#i have work tomorrow but my shift starts at 5pm so it's fine

[itsjaywalkers]

still halloween but it's also november already here so . happy nanowrimo <3

#gonna spend the rest of the night writing #to no one's surprise #i said i was gonna finish the iwtywmm sequel this week and I WILL #also i bought a monster and i'm tempted to drink it even if it means not going to sleep until . 4am #i have work tomorrow but my shift starts at 5pm so it's fine #anyways . u can talk to me or entertain me or whatever u know i never shut up #and it looks like i'm gonna be here a while

[leafsgarbage]

leave before you love me | m.a.

A/N: It was hard to figure out how to go about this one

Synopsis: He doesn’t really want you to care for him and the little scars he hides so well

Genre: Band!AU, fluff, angst (duh)

Warnings: drug use, strip clubs, toxic relationship, 

Pairings: leadsinger!Atsumu x f!reader, timeskip!Atsumu x f!reader.

Main Masterlist

preview, 

“We’re going tomorrow night.” Mila says to you. She’s been raving about this band for the longest time. “Taro is opening for them!”

You pull up your head from the kitchen table, you got home 20 minutes ago from working at the club and your head hurts. She knows you love Taro which is why she used that against you. “Fine. I’m not working tomorrow anyway.”

She claps her hands together. “Maybe you could wear what you’re wearing now! Your bodysuit looks cute. Did they tip you for handing them drinks.”

You smile, remembering it was a busy Thursday. “Yea, a bachelor party came in, and although I think they’re absolute pigs, they do tip a shit ton.”

“Ugh, I wish, my shift starts at seven pm, and I finish at midnight so I’ll meet you at the club they’re performing at.” She looks at her watch and notices it’s about six am. “Agh, go to sleep ok, get some rest.”

“G’night.” You change out of your clothes, shower, and then you fall dead on your bed.

You hardly ever have dreams, but this time, you dreamt that you and Mila were somewhere better than a scruffy two bedroom apartment in the middle of Chicago. Despite the shitty apartment, you two had a wonderful view of the city, and that was about the nicest thing you had.

Working as a waitress definitely helped you be able to pay your rent and own a couple of nice things. You love the girls you met there, but you just aren’t sure if this is what you want to be doing forever. There was just never another option for you.

When you wake up its one in the afternoon. You have a long day before you have to meet up with Mila, so you clean the house, make breakfast, and get ready to head to the gym.

It’s about 5pm when you walk in and spot Kenma and Kuroo, your friends from the orphanage. “Hey!” You wave them down and Kuroo gives a big and bright smile while Kenma waves slightly. They own the gym chain after Kenma made a fortune doing what he loves and Kuroo was a good business partner. They’re like you and Mila, joint together. “I haven’t seen you guys around here in forever! What are you guys doing?”

“Monthly inspection at the gyms.” Kenma replies.

Kuroo spits and laughs. “There’s a band that this kid likes in town, so we decided to kill two birds with one stone.”

You think for a second. “Is it the Jaguars or something? Mila and I are going to that too, tonight.”

“It’s The Jackals,” Kenma corrects.

Kuroo points at Kenma then looks back at you. “Did you get reeled in because she said-”

“Taro was going to be there, yes I did.” You two laugh together. Kuroo introduced you to Taro, he’s very big and upcoming, but you assume The Jackals are too since so many people like them. “Do you guys wanna work out with me? Its leg day.”

The two of them cross their arms in an X and shake their heads. “Last time we did that, Kenma was bedridden, and my co-workers made fun of me, so no thank you Sweetie.”

You laugh and punch Kuroo’s shoulder, everyone at the orphanage called you a sweetheart, so Kuroo aptly nicknamed you Sweetie. “Alright you big babies, I’ll see you at the concert.” They wave goodbye and you get to work.

You pull up your workout playlist and decide to add some of The Jackals’s song that would fit your workout playlist. You add Hardest to Love, Starboy, When will I See You Again, and Gimme Love. The first song was upbeat and everything, but the message behind it was so sad. He’s singing how hard it must be to love him and he feels bad that the other person tries so hard and puts up a front to be with him. Obviously at the end, they eventually give up and he talks about how he knew this was going to happen.

Your heart clenches, but you continue to the next song. Starboy was even more upbeat that the last, but it was very accusatory. Like they were pointing a finger at someone and telling them ‘look what you did to me.’ You liked it.

When Will I See You Again was softer than the other two and it was sweet. Not as loud about their feelings as the other ones. It was just about holding someone close to them after them being away.

Then Gimme Love was about a relationship that was pretty doomed, but he can’t help but stay and try his best. He wants what they used to be, and even though it’s not good now, he can’t let go of them.

You listen to your regular playlist by Taro after you finish your squats and head to the leg press. You loved all his songs, but Psycho and Stay were your favorites, you just hoped he played them at his concert.

Once you finish up your workout its already 7pm. You head back home, eat dinner, and go shower again. You get ready in your concert clothes with your boots so your feet don’t die in the mosh. You also put on some makeup, jewelry, and perfume so you don’t smell too bad.

It’s 11pm once you finish and you rush out to get on the train. It’s about a 30-minute ride and you continue to listen to your Taro playlist, excited to see him so soon.

You get off on your stop and walk to the venue. It’s at an underground club in Chicago, they aren’t big artists yet, so the venues are smaller. You were there decently early, there were only about a handful of people so you grabbed a drink and sat at the bar.

You texted Mila to tell her were you were and she said she was leaving the club already. You texted Kuroo and he said they were driving and there was a crazy amount of traffic. So you just sat by yourself.

“Hey, can I get a blue moon.” The bartender cracks one open and hands it to him. “Thanks.”

You chuckle at the guy and he looks at you questioningly. “No orange?” You ask. Normally most people drink it with an orange.

He looks down at his drink and nods. “Didn’t feel like an orange kinda night.”

“I guess that’s fair.” You shrug and continue to sip on your drink.

“What about you, what are you drinking?”

You smile and nod your head. “Uh, sprite, ha.” The man chuckles.

He has a wonderful smile, you note, and his physique is quite impressive. “What are ya doin’ here so early? Big fan?”

“Um, my roommate told me to be here at midnight, so I like to be punctual.” You shrug

He nods in understanding and begins to take a seat next to you. “What’s yer name?”

You tell him. “You can just call me Sweetie. What about you?”

His eyes widen and you don’t know what you did wrong. “So, you came here, just for yer roommate, not cause you know the band that’s playin’ tonight?”

You shake your head. “I know Taro, and I just started listening to a few of the The Jackals’s songs today.”

He sets his beer down on the table and crosses his arms. “And which of their songs are yer favorite right now?”

You hum and think for a bit. “I think it’s Hardest to Love. I liked the openness of it. How he understands that he’s not easy to handle, but that he did love the person and he wishes he could have fixed it if only he knew how. I think it’s a pretty message and relatable. Shit happens, and you never know how to handle every situation.”

At the time you didn’t hear it, but he lets out a breath and then just smiles at you. “Wow, you really analyze songs a lot.”

You smile sheepishly and drink your soda. “I really like music, so I’m never opposed to listening to new artists.”

“That’s good to know.” He finishes the last of his beer and gets up. “I gotta run, but you enjoy the show.” You wave back about to ask for his name, but he’s already gone.

Not long after, Mila, Kuroo and Kenma show up. The four of you make your way to the front, and since you were there early, everything worked out. “Gahh I’m so excited Sweetie!”

“Me too! I’m so excited for Taro.” You and Kuroo fist bump and wait impatiently.

An MC comes out on stage to introduce. “How are all you gorgeous people doin’ tonight.” There’s a bunch of woo’s and yea’s coming from the crowd. “I won’t take up too much of your time, so first up we got Taro-” the crowd screams, you and Kuroo are among them. “Alright settle down, he’s performing four songs for you today. Then The Jackals will come in as your main set.”

Everyone claps and waits for the MC to finish. “Without further ado… make some noise for TARO!”

You and Kuroo are screeching, clapping your hands together. Taro comes out in some chains, a mesh shirt which has everyone going apeshit, sneakers, and a bucket hat. Everyone’s still screaming by the time he gets to the mic. “Alright, shut up you fucks.”

Everyone laughs and a few people scream ‘we love you Taro!’

He laughs into the mic and nods. “Yea I love you guys too. Now let’s get this going, what song are we thinking?”

Your mouth moves before you could even think. “PSYCHO!” You screech, but then get embarrassed after realizing how loud you were.

He laughs again, grabbing the mic off the stand and squats down in front of you. “Fitting, since you’re all a bunch of little psychos.” He rubs the top of your head with his hand and gets up. “Let’s get it.”

You die internally because holy shit, Taro touched you. You don’t have time to bask in it though because his number starts and you and Kuroo need to go crazy for it. He starts, “Yea my AP goin’ psycho…”

Taro’s numbers are to die for and everyone is having a great time. Before you know it, he’s on his last song of the night. “It’s been fun you guys, so let’s end it with Stay.”

You want to cry because that’s all you wanted. When he gets to the chorus, you and Kuroo yell, “but don’t count on me to stay!”

Taro finishes up and you’re sad to see him go. “Thank you Chicago! I’ll miss my hometown. We’ll see each other soon.” He winks at the crowd and you all cheer him off.

The MC comes back as the people behind him change up the set. “Alright, and our main set. Everyone, please welcome in The Jackals!” Mila is jumping and yelling while Kenma is just clapping, but he has this big smile on his face. You go to tie your shoes since someone stepped on your laces and undid them.

When The Jackals come up, the lead singer steps in front of the mic while the other three set up. “Hey everyone, if you don’t know,” you recognize the voice and you stand back up so quickly only to see the lead singer, the man you talked to at the bar looking down at you. “I’m Atsumu, the lead singer, that’s Shoyo on guitar, Kiyoomi on bass, and Kotaro on drums.” You stand unmoving, completely lost. How could you not know. “Now, I know we were gonna open with Starboy, but I’ve been convinced to start with Hardest to Love so enjoy this everyone.”

He smiles in your direction, and this does not go unnoticed by your roommate. “Sweetie, what in the hell happened.”

You stood there, still shocked. “All I did was make fun of his beer.”

Atsumu starts, “You try with me so many times…”

Regardless of anything, Atsumu had a wonderful voice that hit every note you could think of. High, low, whatever, he could do it. You didn’t know, but The Jackals knew he was showing off and just smirked to themselves.

Once he finishes he moves on. “Did you guys like that?” The crowd howls at him making him smile and chuckle. “We’ve got 8 more songs, let’s make this count, yea?” Everyone is excited and pumped up.

You try to enjoy the songs, but how can you when he’s looking at you so intensely. You decide to ignore it and have a fun time with your friends.

The last song comes up and it’s Cough Syrup, you haven’t listened to it so you decided to pay attention to the lyrics. It’s a great song, it helps slow down the fast tempo everyone was cheering at and is a great closing number. You make eye contact with Atsumu, a blush appears on your face but you refuse to look away.

Still, it doesn’t help that he’s looking at you with a grin on his face singing into the microphone. You can’t help it that he looks so incredibly attractive while doing it. It’s not your fault.

The music slows and Atsumu sings the last line, “One more spoon of cough syrup, now woah.” Everyone’s cheering and clapping while the band all gets on one knee and thanks everyone.

“Thank you Chicago, yer always my best crowd. Just tell Taro that yer all my hometown.” The crowd laughs and claps to the singer, he pushes his hair back with a hand, sweat prominent on his features. “Love ya.”

“We love you!” Everyone yells back at him. He smiles and waves goodbye, then everyone goes on their own way.

Atsumu is still there looking at you, he mouths to you ‘come backstage with your friends.’ You nod, unable to do anything else. “Hey guys, follow me.” They all do without question.

When you get to their room, there’s a man in front of the door. “You are?” He asks.

“Um, I’m y/n, Atsumu said to come back here.” He nods and opens the door for you. It’s all the band members sitting on the couch and Taro, except for Kiyoomi who’s in the shower.

“Sweetie! Hi.” He kisses the side of your cheek to welcome you and you’re taken aback, but don’t say anything of it. “Yer all her friends?”

Mila is frozen, her dreams coming true all at once. “Mila.” She says pointing to her self. The Jackals and Taro chuckle at her while Atsumu shakes Kuroo’s and Kenma’s hands.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You say nodding your head in their direction.

Suna gets up and rubs your head. “You’re the psycho girl.”

“What?” Atsumu asks confused and your cheeks flush bright red.

“She asked me to play Psycho really loud. Good choice by the way.” You thank him for his music and Kuroo begins to engage in conversation with him.

Mila and Kenma somehow get talking to Shoyo and Kotaro in the meantime. “Cat got yer tongue?” Atsumu teases.

You roll your eyes, your previous nervousness fleeing, it’s just something about him. “Please, I was just feeling nervous.”

He chuckles at you. “Did ya like the show?”

“Yea, Taro was great, your voice broke a couple times though.” You tease back.

“What, there’s no way-” your laugh cuts him off and he pouts. “Not funny.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I think you did great, really. I liked all of the songs.” You’re staring at each other for too long and there’s just something there that you can’t deny.

He leans in to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Would ya like to come over to my apartment?” You don’t want to get too attached to a singer, but you wouldn’t be opposed to it either. A night with him and maybe a little more doesn’t seem like a bad idea at all.

“Alright.” You smile.

Despite common stereotypes, Atsumu was a gentleman above all else. He made sure you were comfortable, gave your roommate his address in case she wanted to go check on you, and asked if you were alright all the time.

“If I wasn’t ok, I would’ve kicked you and ran away with your car.” He chuckles and continues to change the gear on his car. “What’s it’s name again.”

He revs the engine. “Aran.”

“Ohh, where’d you get that name from?” You ask.

Atsumu shifts in his seat a bit and comes to a stop at a red light. “My brother and I used to live in a pretty bad neighborhood, and Aran was our friend. He was older than us so he and another guy named Shin were like family to us along with Rintaro.” He sighs and puts the car into gear to drive. “Anyway, when we were 17 Aran joined the army to help support his family, but he ended up in a crossfire and passed away.”

There was a lump in your throat and you weren’t sure what to say. “I’m glad I got to meet one Aran then.”

You thought he was going to stare you down but he just laughed. “Me, too. He was awesome.”

“I didn’t really live in the greatest place either, lots of kids I knew went to join the army, but I never heard if they were ok.” You fiddle with your hands a bit.

He asks, “Where did you live?”

“I grew up in the orphanage not too far from the venue you were at. I met all my friends there. They kind of kick you out as soon as you’re 16.” You shrug.

“Damn.” Atsumu says. “What’ve you been doin’ since then.”

“Work to live?” The two of you chuckle. “I work at a strip club in the heart of Chicago, I’m a waitress. I can’t dance for shit.”

He laughs at you and you just smile. “That’s good, let me know where and I’ll visit ya sometime.”

“I’m honored that you would pay me such a visit.” You push his shoulder and the two of you laugh together in the car.

You’re about to go down a steep hill but stop at the top. “My apartment is just down there.” He points all the way at the bottom. “We’re gunning it down.”

“Atsumu no-”

“Atsumu yes.” He winks and before you can say anything, you’re rolling down the hill grabbing onto Atsumu’s arm for dear life, eyes locked on the downhill road. You’re yelling and Atsumu is just laughing at you before coming to a hard stop at his place. “We made it.”

You look at him, arms shaking. “I’m gonna kill you.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek. “Chin up, let’s go eat, I’m starvin’.” The small kiss takes you aback, but you hop out of the car and follow him. He holds out his hand and you take it. He leads you up the stairs and into his apartment. “Sorry it’s kinda a mess.” He scratches the back of his head.

There’s papers all over and instruments all over the place, even a picture of him and- “Did you photo shop that?” It was a picture of him and someone who looked just like him on a volleyball court with seven other people

He looks to the picture you point at and laughs. “No, that’s my brother, we’re twins.”

“I feel bad for your mom, you guys must’ve been a handful.” You smile.

Atsumu nods, placing pizza into the microwave, a small smile spreading on his face. “She was great though, never gave up on us.” He looks up and his face drops. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking-”

You hold up a hand and shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Single parents are badass.”

He agrees. “D’ya know anything about yer ma?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t even know if I want to, you know? It’s been so long, knowing who she is now would just make me so angry.”

The microwave dings and he goes to grab the pizza. “Follow me.” He leads you up yet another flight of stairs, but once you get to a door, the cool Chicago breeze welcomes you and you find yourselves on the attic.

You take in the beautiful view that surrounds you. The lights overwhelmingly yellow and orange, cars driving by, trains, busses, and the beautiful sky, that due to the pollution, only the moon was visible. There were a few stars here and there, ones that never quit. “This is everything. I can’t go back home now that I’ve seen this.”

“Then don’t.” Atsumu shrugs taking a bite of his pizza, offering you a slice. You decline.

You and him sit across from each other on these lawn chairs looking at the sky. When he finishes his slice you turn to him. “Why did you want me to come with you.”

“The truth?” He asks. You nod. “I was really just lookin’ for a nice night, but after talkin’ to ya, I think it’d be safe to say I’m glad I met ya.” Why is it that you’ve only just met and he causes your heart to flutter like this. This was cosmic, you felt it in your bones, and whether or not Atsumu wanted to admit it, he knew that too. Knew that you would be someone special, someone he wouldn’t let himself have, but he ignored all that. “Why did you accept?”

You shrug. “Random hookup didn’t seem like a bad idea. I got swept away by your rocker singer persona or whatever.” He smiles at you and grabs a hold of your hand. You don’t want to ask if he’s looking for a relationship, because you’re scared of the answer. You want him to keep holding your hand just as he is. “Why did you become a singer?”

“It was actually my second dream.” You sit up and turn to face him. “I wanted to become a pro-volleyball player, but our school wasn’t well equipped with training to even get past the first round in a tournament. I didn’t want to burden my ma.”

“For what it’s worth, I think, maybe in another life, you’re doing just that.” He chuckles and squeezes your hand. “Is your dad not in the picture?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. He took off after our fourth birthday. He was shit dad for the time he was there anyway, so I’d like to say we were better off without him.” Atsumu pulls out his phone and plays a song on it. You haven’t heard it before, but you recognize his voice through the speakers. “Dance with me?”

You get up and place your hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand while he wraps his other one securely around your waist. “Which one of your songs is this?”

“Slow Dancing in the Dark. Bokuto wrote it, his boyfriend and him were really goin’ through it at the time.” The two of you dance around the roof. He places you on the ledge and lets you jump onto him as he spins you in his arms.

You laugh and sway with him again. “You’re quite the charmer. You do this with a lot of girls?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, most of them don’t talk to me as much as you have.” He smiles.

“I like how open you are.” You blurt out, but it’s already out there. “I dunno, it just makes other people more comfortable to be real with you.”

“I never got anything from being a liar. I guess that’s just how I am. How do you get me to talk so much Sweetie? You haven’t talked much about yerself.”

“You haven’t asked.” You teased and he places you on his lap as you sit back down.

“What’s yer dream Sweetie?” He smiles and keeps you guys moving.

You hum and just wonder if maybe it was too deep to share, but he’s been so honest with you, you feel like you could tell him. “To have a family of my own. To never abandon them and make sure they know I love them with all my heart.”

“That’s a pretty dream.” You smile and rest your head on his shoulder, you two dance till the music stops.

You wake up the next morning next to Atsumu on his bed. Memories from the night hit you like a bus and you want to squeal. He was sweet all the way through. You try to gather your thoughts but it was all scrambled with the fact that you slept with the lead singer of a band. You gotta cross that off a list somewhere.

Atsumu moves and he wakes up, looking at you holding the sheets up to your chest. “Mornin’.” He greets and you mutter a small hi as you shrink into the bed. “Ah, don’t be shy now. I’m gonna go make breakfast.”

You pull a shirt of his and some boxers out to wear and you make your way to the kitchen. He sees you come in and smiles while turning his head to the side. “I hope you don’t mind.” You refer to the stolen clothes.

He waves you off and continues to cook up some wonderful breakfast. “How d’ya like yer eggs?”

“Scrambled please.” He smiles cooking that right up. “How’d you become such a great cook.”

“My brother owns a restaurant.”

You nod. “Yea, I think he’d be disappointed if you didn’t know how to cook.” The two of you chuckle together and he places the egg on your plate.

“Any plans today?”

You think for a moment before groaning. “Yea, Mila and I work from 6pm to 1am today.”

Atsumu perks his head up and smiles. “I’ll bring the guys then, visit you on the job.”

You laugh and agree. “Ok, I’ll see you there then.”

The two of you eat breakfast together before he drops you off at your house, still in his clothes. “See ya later tonight.” He winks, and all you can do is smile and wave as he drives off. Before you can turn back around, Mila pulls you inside and up the stairs.

She sits you down on the couch and stares at you. “Alright, explain.”

“Well, he was really nice, we danced, talked and… well you know, then he made me breakfast and drove me back here, oh and he’s coming to our job later with his friends.” You tell.

Her mouth is stuck wide open, unable to move. “Oh my- how do you do that. Well now I’m nervous to go to work. I think he likes you y/n.”

“I don’t think that’s what he’s looking for Mila.” You get up and head to your room.

She laughs and shakes her head. “Well someone better tell him you don’t dance and be all sweet to your friends with benefits.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly what this is either.” You say.

“Well then it’s a big fat fucking ‘it’s complicated’.” She throws her hands up mumbling to herself about what to wear.

You’d hate to admit it, but you think that’s exactly what this is.

Nevertheless you got ready for your day with Mila. It wasn’t too crowded yet, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t antsy for Atsumu and the rest of them to show up. Mila picked up on it really quick.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the door looking at it like that.” She quips

Your shoulders sag a little. “Am I that obvious?” You ask her.

“Only to me, Sweetie.” She pinches your cheeks before carrying her tray to her table.

Somewhere during your conversation a new table was sat, and when you went to wait on them you locked eyes with a familiar blonde. Your whole body relaxed, and Atsumu turned to you, a warmth spread throughout his body. Whatever was happening between the two of you was happening fast, and even though Atsumu knew he couldn’t give you more, he was selfish and wanted to have you if not just for another day.

He smiles charmingly at you when you get to the table. “Hello boys.”

“Hi Sweetie,” they all wave to you: Kotaro, Shoyo, and Kiyoomi. Atsumu grabs your hand and kisses it looking up at you. He was taking in the lovely corset you had on with the fishnets. 

You blushed deeply, but it was hidden by the bright and colorful lights in the club. “What can I do for you boys?” They give you their orders which you take diligently to the bar. 

“See, they got here.” Mila snickers and waves at them from behind the bar. “Let me help you with the drinks.”

The two of you finish them quickly and walk over to drop them on the table. Before you’re able to say anything you feel a quick slap on your ass. Your whole body freezes up and you turn to see a very drunk customer. “No touching,” you seethe.

Mila turns as well, standing next to you as help. “Mmm no, I don’t think that’s what you should say.” The guy walks right up to you and grabs your arm. Immediately another arm shoots out to grab his.

“Hey,” Atsumu says cooly grinning with mal intent. “Why don’t you let go of her arm yea?”

The guy is displeased and raises an arm to which Atsumu’s friends respond quickly by getting up, but he was stopped by Earl, one of the security workers. “Are you alright Sweetie and Mila?”

Mila nods. “Yea this guy needs to go, he’s touching.” She huffs and Earl nods.

“Don’t worry he’ll be gone soon.” Earl disappears with the man out the door and you let out a breath.

“Are you okay?” Atsumu asks, his jaw tight.

You nod breathing in. “Yea, it comes with the job. Earl and Riley are really good at kicking them out if need be.” You smile. “Sit down and relax, don’t worry too much about me.” 

“Well that’s not possible.” Atsumu murmurs, but you are already halfway back to the bar with Mila.

“You’re sick Atsumu.” Shoyo says.

Atsumu turns to his bandmate with a wary look. “Huh?”

Kotaro nods in agreement with the guitarist. “You got it bad Atsumu.” 

“She’s good. Really good.” Shoyo adds again. 

He ignores them and changes the subject. Kiyoomi and the rest of them understand he’s deflecting because he likes you too, but he can’t be with you. He won’t let himself be with you, and that’s exactly what they want him to see, that he can. 

Regardless of his distaste for their probing, Atsumu gets his notepad out and scribbles down some lyrics. “You really brought that with you?” Kiyoomi asks pointedly.

Atsumu rolls his eyes at his friend. “I bring it everywhere. I don’t know why you’re surprised. The boys begin conversing about their next upcoming show but Atsumu is watching you. He watches you laugh with Mila and charm the customers that come up to you. 

He hasn’t felt this sense of comfort in a long time, but watching you is inspiring in itself. He nudges Bokuto to get his attention. “What’s up?”

“Can you help me with this? I think it’s good.” He refers back to the notepad where he has the title of the song written.

Bokuto hums looking over the lyrics. “Locked Out of Heaven? Sounds good.” He doesn’t comment and how he talks so vividly about you. Even though he hasn’t said it, Bokuto knows. “Instead of cause you got me feelin like to cause you make me feel like, good?”

The two of them fix up some of the wording in the song meanwhile Shoyo called over one of the girls to dance for Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi is glaring at Hinata, but doesn’t shoo the girl away, he’s a gentlemen of course. 

Eventually your shifts are up and you come back out wearing some sweats and a hoodie. “All done.” You smile.

Atsumu looks at you with wonder as he takes in your clothes. “No corset? I think I like a girl in uniform.”

“I’m off the clock, mister.” You say teasingly before walking ahead of him and the others following. “What do you want to do?”

He hums stepping closer to you. “Do you like Just Dance?”

Over the course of the next month or so you and Atsumu grew much closer and he released Locked Out of Heaven. While you had a sneaking suspicion it was about you, you never said anything. 

You, Mila, Kuroo, and Kenma still attended all of their concerts and the crowds kept getting bigger with each passing show. Atsumu lit up the stage, he was a performer, a great one and he captured everyone’s attention. You really couldn’t help but look at him with stars in your eyes every time. 

However, you were getting tired of not understanding where the two of you stood. It frightened you how much you liked Atsumu, how much you could envision him in your future. It scared you not knowing if he thought of you like you thought of him. 

That’s why you were standing outside his apartment and knocking on the door. He answered quickly and leaned on the door frame. “Hi Sweetie,” he kissed your cheek letting you in. “This is a nice surprise.”

When he closes the door you mumble a hello, but your nerves are at an all time high. He notices something is up and asks, but he already doesn’t like this feeling. To him, the point of not being in a relationship was to not feel this way. Like he was close to fighting with you and losing. “I just... I have a question.” You say looking up at him. “What am I... to you? Do you think about me?”

“I think about you a lot.” He admits, whether he wanted to or not. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just that I think about you all the time. I want you, all the time. More so, I just want to know that you’re with me, that you want me the same way I want you.” Atsumu recoils back from your admission like you shot him.

He shakes his head. “I’m confused.”

You throw your hands up a little frustrated. “I want you Atsumu. In every single way possible. I want your clothes at my apartment, I want to keep an extra toothbrush here. I want to go on dates with just you and me not in the house, I just want to hold your hand and I want to be together... officially together. I love-” You can barely get it out, but when you look at Atsumu’s face the words die on your lips. “What?”

“No.” He says sternly. “I never- when did you ever get the idea that that’s what this was?”

Your chest hurts in the worst possible way. This is not the way you expected this to turn out. “You can’t look at me the way you do and not expect me to think you love me too.”

Atsumu runs a hand through his hair and looks equally as upset as you are right now. “No you’re completely off the mark. This- this is not what that is. You need to get your delusions in check.”

You scoff getting angrier as the seconds pass. “It’s not delusions when even your friends say the same thing.”

His head shoots up at you. “What the fuck did they say to make you think that?”

“That they’ve never seen you happier, that you seem lighter and like you’re finally able to let someone love you instead of thinking you can’t.” You spit out at him.

“Well they fucking lied to you.” He grits. 

You shake your head. “You’re insane Atsumu. I know you love me too. Why is it such a fucking problem for you to admit that?”

“Because it’s not fucking true, Sweetie. I don’t know how you deluded yourself into that-”

“Don’t call me fucking crazy, I’m not fucking crazy.” You stand up from the couch and walk over to him. “You can’t touch me the way you do and look at me like you do and say you don’t care about me. I won’t let you lie straight to my fucking face.”

“I don’t want a relationship, I don’t want this. I don’t want the expectations that come with this.”

It grabs your attention as you laugh humorlessly. “Yea Atsumu, I expect you to love me fucking back, that’s so much to ask for though with you isn’t it.”

He buries his hands in his hair ruffling it. “This is exactly what I’m talkin’ about! I don’t want this fighting, we’re not even together, shit. We’re not together!”

“I think I understand that very well. Why won’t you let me love you Tsum?” You whisper. 

“Because I don’t fucking want it, I don’t want you, I don’t want an us, I’ve made myself pretty fucking clear.”

“Loud and clear. Especially when I’ve just admitted that I love you and you throw shit in my face.” You retort. 

He sighs, “Shut up Sweetie, please.”

“The day I do is the day I stop caring about you, Atsumu.” He’s frustrated because he doesn’t know how to explain this to you and he doesn’t want to.

“Just go. Just fucking leave.”

“I’m not leaving this goddamn apartment until you tell me you don’t love me!” You say, tired and desperate. “Do you love me Atsumu?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t wantcha to love me.”

You recoil and cross your arms. “But do you love me, please? I don't think that’s much to ask.”

He doesn’t have it in him to say it, but he cannot stand you to be here a second longer. “News flash, Sweetie. It’s not that hard to not fall in love with you. You should have learned that by now.” He went real low, even knows it from the way your face falls and you lose the fight you had in you. His chest tightens from the look you give him. “The door is right fuckin’ there. I didn’t think you were so dense, fuck!”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that!” You yell back. “All I wanted Atsumu-” you choke on a sob. “All I really wanted, was to know that someone fucking loved me for once.” You say as a whisper. “And that-” you sniffle, wiping your tears, “that you knew loving you isn’t a chore, it was a goddamn fairy tale. Even now. Even as you push me away and tell me you hate me, I still love you.” You leave, deciding that Atsumu isn’t hard to love at all, but he makes it hard to stay.

When the door shuts and he can no longer hear your footsteps, Atsumu throws the remote control at his wall. “Fuck!”

You don’t hear from him since then, and Mila had her work cut out for her. Knowing that the singer from her favorite band did this to her best friend is something she wouldn’t stand for. 

She blocked all of their numbers from both of your phones. Even though the other boys didn’t do anything she had to be extra sure he had no way of contacting you. Kuroo and Kenma were let in on the whole thing too.

As you nursed your broken heart Mila held onto you as you tried to explain what he said, and that really solidified her hatred for the man. “That is not true Sweetie. I’ll love you till the day I die.” She kissed the top of your head as you cried yourself to sleep. 

Kuroo and Kenma visited too and she let them in on what happened. “Why would he-”

“I have no idea. I think he just wanted to hurt her, because I don’t believe for one second that he wasn’t in love with her.” The three of them nod in agreement as they witnessed Atsumu with you first hand. “He’s just a fucking idiot.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Kiyoomi chimes in after listening to Atsumu’s rant about what happened with you weeks ago. They all asked where you had went, and with enough probing they got it out of him.

Atsumu looks shocked. “She’s delusional.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “She would be if she wasn’t right. She’s right, Atsumu and in your heart of hearts I know you know that. I know you know that you’re also in love with her.”

The singer groans. “Not you guys too.”

“I think you’re just in denial because then you would have to face the fact that you treated her disgustingly awful.” Kiyoomi says. “For some unknowing reason she fell in love with you. I think this is where your luck runs out Atsumu, because you’re never going to meet someone like that again.”

All of them are shocked at how much Kiyoomi was saying all at once. He normally was quiet, but you and the bassist developed a nice friendship, which was saying a lot for Sakusa.

“He’s not wrong Atsumu.” Hinata breaks the silence. “The quicker you realize that, then the faster you can beg for her forgiveness, because I don’t think you’ll get her back with anything less.”

The boys get up to set up their instruments leaving Atsumu in their dressing room to wonder how he got here in the first place. He felt so many things all at once and he turned to his notepad, because he couldn’t express himself in any other way. 

He performed with group and charismatic as he may be, they noticed how off he was. At one point during the show he slipped up the lyrics to one of the songs. “Shit...” he laughs it off. “Maybe I’m just a little fucked up guys I’m sorry.” The crowd cheers him on regardless, but he finds himself looking for your face. A glimpse of it somewhere, and the disappointment burns him in a way he has never experienced. 

Once the set finishes he goes back to his notepad, ignoring the stares his friends give him. He looks at Bokuto with a knowing look. The drummer sits down and pats his back. “What do you need help with?”

The two of them get to writing together, although it was mostly Atsumu’s words Bokuto helped clean it up. Atsumu was always good at understanding his emotions when they were on a piece of paper, but how could he go after what he really wanted. Every relationship he ever had crashed and burned, just like yours did and it didn’t even have a label on it. 

But that was his mistake.

You were never just going to be another girl to him. He loved you more than he cared to admit. So much that it ached. So much that he couldn’t bear how fast his heart beat around you and he had to burn you too. He was most definitely the problem. 

You just wanted an unconditional love, and he did love you, but could he love you the way you deserved? Was it fair that he decided these things for you? Probably not. 

He wasn’t sure how he was going to get you to meet with him. After what he said he wouldn’t want to either, but he picked up his phone and tried to call. “The number you’re trying to reach...” Yea. He should’ve expected that one.

He tried Mila’s and the same thing happened. The same thing would happen with your other friends’ numbers. “Shit.” He clicks his tongue but then turns his attention to Kiyoomi. “Hey, Omi-”

“Don’t even try.” He said tuning his bass not even looking up. “She’s blocked all of us, all of them did. Not that I really blame her.” 

Atsumu nods, but decides this is just a little bump in the road. He needs to plan everything anyway, it would be silly to ask for you back without one. He needed to plan.

Over the next few days he booked a venue, the same one you met at. He donated what he could to the orphanage you grew up in. In the hopes that the children live a little better than you did. He doesn’t really plan on telling you that one. 

It was difficult for him, the band was in the middle of a life changing contract, but his priorities were set for the first time in his life. He pleads his bandmates to help him, and they accept because you deserve to have a choice on whether or not you get to be with the person you love. 

He goes to the strip that you work out and hopes to run into you, but he’s met with Mila, a more formidable opponent. She looks up with a smile to greet the new customer, but when she sees him her face drops. “You’ve got about ten seconds to get out before I ask Riley to do it.” 

“I just need two minutes.” He asks.

“You don’t deserve any.” She cleans the glasses in front of her not looking at it. “I mean it.”

Atsumu nods. “I know. I know I don’t, but listen to me and if you don’t want to after that then I’ll leave.”

She looks skeptical but relents. You deserve the choice to be with him or not. Not that she believes he deserves it. “Two minutes. Starting now.” 

“I didn’t mean it.” He says sheepishly. “Any of it and if I could take it back I would. I-” He huffs out a breath, wishing he could talk to you. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt the way I did with her, and I know that she deserved more than I could offer, but I do want her.” His fists clench trying to get out the right words. “I want her more than I have wanted anything, and it scared me and I fucked up I know, but I- well... I love her. Whether I deserve to or not I do. And by some miracle she loves me too... or did.” 

Atsumu shakes his head to get back on track, Mila’s full attention is on him as he slips her a flyer and four tickets. “If you could get her to come to this show... I’d owe you everything, regardless of what happens I just don’t want to lie to her anymore.”

Mila peaks at it and watches him leave as he doesn’t wait for her answer. “Fuck.” She mutters. “I hate being a good fucking person.” She snatches the tickets and puts them in her bag.

When she gets home you’re cleaning the house again, something you’ve been doing to keep your mind busy. Mila sets down the take out as she comes to sit on the couch.

“Sweetie guess what.” You pick your head up to look at her. “Taro is coming to town again.”

Your shoulders slump a little and you shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t really want to go.”

“Pleaseeeeee.” She whines. “Kuroo bought us all tickets, he’s the main event. Some randos are opening for him it’ll be fun I promise.” You don’t really know how fun it would be to go back to the place that reminds you of him entirely. 

“I’m just not sure it would be good for me.” You say lowly.

Her heart breaks for you, but she is hard to deter. “I promise just this once, if you don’t like being there within the first hour we can go home. Promise.”

In the end, you end up agreeing and Mila fills the boys in on the plan. When Friday hits you all get ready at your apartment Kuroo and Kenma waiting with anticipation. 

“You look great Sweetie.” Kuroo coos teasingly and your face heats up.

“I will kill you.” You joke.

Kenma looks up questioningly. “Doubtful.” It earns a small laugh from you which brings a smile to his face. 

The four of you make your way to the venue and when you recognize the building of your old home you twitch in discomfort. You don’t voice it though, agreeing to stick it out the hour. Mila is in front and hands the bouncer your tickets while you walk ahead. 

It is decently packed, but you wonder why he chose a small venue again with the publicity he has gotten over the month. 

“I’m sorry Sweetie, but I’m also not sorry.” Mila smiles, and before you can ask her what she means the lights turn off and you can’t see. Your heart rate picks up, but it slows when the lights of the stage turn on, but the calm is short lived when you see him and the rest of the band on the stage.

“Hi everyone.” Atsumu waves and tries to find you in the crowd. “Now, I’ve recently written a new song yea? It’s the last one of the night.” The crowd howls with excitement and Atsumu loves the thrill it gives him, but he’s still just looking for you, he made sure you would get here for the last one. “My brothers obviously helped me produce it. It explains what words couldn’t, and I wish I was better at expressin’ myself than I actually am. I’m pretty shit at it.” He chuckles into the mic, his voice sending a chill down your spine when his eyes meet yours. “This is Leave Before You Love Me, everyone.”

Your heart is beating so fast that you barely paid attention to the first verse, but the chorus hits you like a truck and reminds you of your first meetings with Atsumu. 

'Cause my wheels are rolling Ain't taking my foot off the gas And it only took the one night To see the end of the line Staring deep in your eyes, eyes

You remember when he sent it down the hill near his apartment. How you held onto him and regardless of how nervous you were you felt safe as long as he was there. 

Dancing on the edge, 'bout to take it too far It's messing with my head, how I mess with your heart If you wake up in your bed, alone in the dark I'm sorry, gotta leave before you love me

The rest of the song plays out and you wrap your arms around yourself for some sense of comfort. Your friends notice it and huddle around you to try to ease the listen.

When the final chorus plays theres cheers all around you, and you can’t seem to move from your spot even as Atsumu smiles at you and gestures for you. Mila grabs your hand and you turn to her. “If you want we can leave right now and never come back.”

You shake your head. “No... I want- I want to know what he has to say.” 

She nods and leads you to the back. The rest of the band greets you while you can barely mutter a hello. They all leave you with him, Mila squeezes your hand before she also heads out. 

Atsumu had a whole bunch he wanted to say, but he wasn’t so sure any of it did justice to you. He slowly walks up to you and places his hands gently on your face to have you look at him. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

“You were so mean.” You whisper.

He nods. “I know. I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I know that doesn’t make it better, but that’s the truth.” He sighs as he runs a hand through your hair. “I just thought I shouldn’t lie to you anymore. I want you. More than I ever that I could and that was so fucking scary. But you didn’t deserve that at all. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I wasn’t so terrible all the time-”

You shake your head. “You’re not terrible Atsumu, just delusional, to think that you don’t care about me.”

“I love you.” Your throat closes up and you’re not sure what to say after that. “I think I’ve loved you from the moment I’ve met you. You’re everything, Sweetie. Everything I don’t deserve and everything I shouldn’t have.” He places his forehead against yours. “But it wasn’t fair of me to not give you a choice, because you should have one and I took that from you.”

“I’m always going to choose you, Atsumu.” Fresh tears make their way to your eyes as you take in a shaky breath. “But everything isn’t going to magically be better just because you’ve realized this. What if we get into a disagreement and you blow up on me. I can’t survive it again.”

He nods understanding your concern. “I’ve been going to therapy.” Your head shoots up almost knocking his nose. “I know, long overdue. It’s easy to tell myself you should be with someone better, but I want to try to be that for you. To be someone deserving of your kindness,” he kisses your cheek. “Deserving of your love. Although I don’t think I ever will, I want to get as close as I can.”

You laugh at his statement. “You were always enough for me, Atsumu, but I’m glad you’re getting help.” You take a deep breath before going on. “It’s not always going to be easy.”

“I know.”

“I might get frustrated with you.”

“I know.”

“You might get frustrated with me.”

“I know.”

“But I think as long as we’re honest and truly love each other...” You trail off. “I think we could make it.”

“I’ll always pick you. There is no other choice for me.” 

You smile brushing your lips against his, feeling relaxed in his hold. “We go slow this time.”

“Whatever you want. We’ll do. I just want to be able to hold you.” 

“It was a great song.” You add. 

He nods kissing your forehead. “It was about a great person. That and Locked Out of Heaven.”

You laugh under your breath. “I knew it.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes playfully looking down at you. “Assume from this day forward that every song, every word, every thought, and every breath I breathe is about you.” 

You can’t top that so you quietly retreat into his arms, safe and loved. “I want lots of kids.”

“We’ll have all the kids you want. I’ll have fun trying.”

The two of you laugh together before taking a moment to join your friends again who by the looks of it are happy for you. “Don’t mess up this time Atsumu.” Kiyoomi warns.

You walk up to the bassist and give him a hug, you do this with all of them. “I missed you guys.”

You all walk out together and you get into Atsumu’s car so he could take you back to his apartment. It’s quiet on the ride back but he holds your hand the entire time.

When you get there he immediately takes you to the roof. “Bo and I made this new song not too long ago. It’s called Die for You.”

He plays the song on his speaker and takes a hold of your hand dancing with you like he did that very first night. “You always have beautiful penmanship.”

He smiles shyly. “Trying to get that into actual words.”

“I believe in you.” You rest your head on his shoulder and sway with him.

You’re not sure how long you stay there dancing for, but you really wouldn’t have minded staying till the morning, and Atsumu wouldn’t have either.

Atsumu is not hard to love. Not in the slightest, and he’s starting to believe that for the first time in a long time.

A/N: I hope this isn’t too bad LMAO

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[dasywritingblog]

CRUSH AT THE PREMIER

Scarlett Johansson x reader

Words: 2356

SCARLETT P.O.V.

I'm driving to a caffe down the street to meet up with my longest time best friend (y/n) and as usual I forgot my phone, why everytime I have to meet with (y/n) I get so nervous and forget even my name? Well maybe it is because I have a major crush on her since, how can I say it, well forever probably is the word I'm searching for.

Waking up from my thoughts I park the car and rush to the enter where I see (y/n) impatiently checking her phone.

(Y/N): Where the hell were you? I called you something like five times I thought you were dead!

She says hugging me, I chuckle nervously and hug her back.

SCARLETT: I may or may not have forgotten my phone at home, but anyway is nice to see you too miss finesse.

(Y/N): Oh come on Scarly don't turn into a good girl now.

I blush at this statement and try to hide it laughing and pushing her throward the door.

SCARLETT: Take that fine ass of yours inside I need for my coffee.

(Y/N): Yes ma'am!

We sit at a table and we start talking about what happened in the past month since we didnt have much time to hang up cause we have been super busy with work. I told her everything I could about what happened on the set of Avengers Endgame: funny story, some bloopers and some spoilers as well, but nothing too big since neither I know whats going on in that movie, yep Marvel is very good at keeping secrets.

(Y/N): When is the premier Scarly?

SCARLETT: Tomorrow night and actually I wanted to ask you something about that

My hands got sweaty and I started to panic. What if she says no or she finds out I'm in love with her? Scarlett Ingrid Johansson, you take a breath and ask your best friend and crush to go to the premier with you whether you want it or not! I probably get lost in my thoughts for a while since (y/n/n) is waving her hand in front of my face.

(Y/N): Hellooo? Land to Scarlett, are you here?

SCARLETT: Yeah, sorry I...I zoned out for a sec.

(Y/N): I noticed. Scarly now please answer me sincerely, are you ok?

I frowned at her question.

(Y/N): Don't look at me with that face, you can fool anyone but not me. You've been weird since you arrived today, then you want to ask me something and zone out. This is not you, whats going on?

I take a deep breath trying to gain time.

SCARLETT: Im fine (y/n/n), just a little bit stressed for the premier tomorrow. You know it'll be the first time I'll be there alone and I guess this is stressing me out

(Y/N): Awww don't worry Scarly you'll be amazing as always.- she says taking my hands in hers smiling at me- You're the strongest woman I've ever met and I'm sure that walking on a red carpet alone is not gonna break you down.

I blush at her words and lower my head shaking it a bit.

SCARLETT: The problem is not standing alone on the red carpet, the problem is the presss questions and the scandal that not having a partner for this event is gonna create.

Her smile dropped. She understands what I mean and she knows how much I got stressed when the press spread fake gossip about me.

(Y/N): Well I'm sure we can find someone inclined to accompany you or...

I raised my head at her or and saw the fear and embarrassment on her face. I dont know what happened to me at that moment, but suddenly I felt super confident and the words came out of my mind without me noticing.

SCARLETT: Or you can come with me as my date.

My eyes widened as soon as I realized what I said and I started to panic even more. I try to focus on the bright side of this thing but right now I can't care less about the fact that I practically confessed to my crush, I'm too scared of her reaction. My train of thoughts and paranoia stop rushing when I hear (y/n) laughing.

(Y/N): Your face is sooo funny! Seems like youve seen a ghost!

I try to force out a laugh but it dies in my throat before it can even get out of my mouth so I limit myself at smiling.

(Y/N): You know I wasn't thinking about me when I proposed another option right Scarly?

I nod sadly.

(Y/N): I was thinking about that Colin Jost... But if you want me to be there with you I'll cancel my date night with my couch and Netflix and come with you!

SCARLETT: Really?

My eyes lit up when she agreed to come to the premier as my date. I was so excited and happy as if a burden had been lifted from my shoulder. I jump out of my seat and hug her tight.

SCARLETT: Thank you, thank you, thank you!

(Y/N): Yeah, but don't get too excited I'll only do that in order to see the movie before anyone else.

I stop hugging her and go back to my seat putting on a childish pout and faking to be offended by her statement.

SCARLETT: For what you said you'll have to choose the dress on your own and come to pick me up tomorrow at 5pm.

(Y/N): No no no no. I was joking, girl, chill down! I obviously agreed to come cause youre my best friend and I don't want to let you go alone.- she said scratching the back of her head in facking embarasmen- Now please help me pick a dress!

I burst out laughing at her begging and she joined me soon.

SCARLETT: Ok (y/n/n) well go pick a dress now, but please learn how to plead cause you suck!

We get out of the caffe laughing and wondering about what will happen tomorrow night like two girls going nuts the day before the prom.

TIME SKIP TO THE RED CARPET

I'm walking side by side with (y/n) down the red carpet and I've never felt more powerful in my whole life. For the first time I'm standing in front of the press, journalist, photographer and I don't care about what they're saying and what they'll say tomorrow.

Down the path we stop for some photos and interviews. And I noticed (y/n) tensing and shaking when people ask her questions. Without thinking too much about it I hold her hand rubbing my thumb over the back of it trying to calm her down.

SCARLETT: If it's too much for you I can take you inside the theatre and come back out here alone.- I whisper in her ear.

(Y/N): No it's ok, I'm a little bit overwhelmed but I'll be fine. Just can you hold my hand?

SCARLETT: Sure thing hon, everything for you.

I see her blushing and that makes me smile.

We are now in the theatre and the movies have been going for a while already when I realize that the scene of Natasha's sacrifice is coming up. I shift in my seat trying to get comfortable and ease the stress. I know this scene would come, I mean I shoot it, but it's sad anyway cause after I played Natasha Romanoff for 10 years I can say that she is part of me now.

As soon as the Widow jumps down the cliff the theatre is filled with gasp and sob. Every member of the cast looked at me shocked since no one except Jeremy knew that. Robert, who was sitting at my left lean near me.

ROBERT: You hide it to us for all this time?

SCARLETT: Feige's order.

I hear a sob coming from the person at my right, so I turn around to see (y/n) crying in her seat. That view makes my heart clench, she is so beautiful and precious even with tears rolling down her cheek. I stare at her for a while before she notices and grabs my hand holding it tight in search of comfort. When our hands touch I feel my stomach flutter and my heart skip a beat, we stare at each other's eyes and without realizing we both start to lean in closer without breaking eye contact. My heart was beating so fast and my mind was wandering freely imagining how could (y/n) lips would feel against mine.

Our magic moment was interrupted by a flash coming from the screen we woke up from our state of trance and back off blushing in embarrassment.

TIME SKIP TO EVANSS PARTY

(Y/N) P.O.V.

Me and Scarly are at a party hosted by the one and only Chris Evans. I've lost Scarlett in the crowd so I make my way to go get another drink. If I have to be totally honest I lost count of how many shots I've had, but drinking helps me forget about the problem and right now I have a big problem to take off my mind.

I still can't believe that me and Scarlet had almost kissed each other early in the theatre, but most importantly I can't believe I want it to happen again! She is my best friend and I shouldn't have those thoughts about her. I shouldn't wish to kiss her, but here I am.

The night went on with Scarlett chatting with her cast members and me drinking shot after shot till I practically passed out on someone which at the moment I don't remember the name, my head hurt too much for thinking. I slurred an "I'm sorry" while trying to get back on my feet.

BRIE: Here let me help, youre too drunk to stand alone.- she said while helping me stand still.

(Y/N): I'm not - hiccup- that dwunk -hiccup.

BRIE: Yeah and I'm a member of the Queen.

I stare at her for a while.

(Y/N): Ohhh, that's why you seemed familiar!

BRIE: Ermmm ok. Are you here with someone?

I pointed to Scarlet who was talking to some girl and that view made me jealous. She is mine! The girl member of the Queen walked me to Scarlett and whispered something to her. After that my bestie excused herself from the girl she was talking to and rushed to me. We walked out the house where the party was going on in silence and got in the car where I passed out.

I wake up at Scarlett shaking me violently.

SCARLET: We are here but I need you awake I can't pick you up with this stupid heels.

I nodded and focused my attention on keeping my eyes open. Scarlet helped me get out of the car and walk to the door where she made me lean against the wall while she searched for the key. We finally got inside the house, I threw my purse on the floor and leaned on a table falling asleep.

SCARLETT: No that's not the bed hun come on, we have to take you upstairs then you can sleep I promise.

She struggles at makinkin me stit up since I'm not cooperating much, but I'm too tired to move or even think. I look at Scarlett and notice that she is standing between my legs while Im still sitting over the table. In this way I was way more taller than her so I managed to look at her and notice how embarrassed and frustrated she is right now. I lost myself in her beautiful eyes for the second time in a day and before I even noticed we were leaning in eachother again.

SCARLETT: Fuck this!

Her lips crushed on mine in a very passionate and loving kiss which I gladly responded to. Its amazing, our lips complete each other like two pieces of the same puzzle. I lost myself in those kisses and I didn't even notice that Scarlett had picked me up and she is trying to walk to the staircase without interrupting our magical kiss.

Eventually our lips came apart and as if nothing happened she took me up to a room and put me to bed pecking my lips before I passed out definitely.

TIME SKIP TO THE NEXT MORNING

I stir and roll in the bed trying to remember what happened last night. I wake up and look around noticing that this is NOT my room. I sit up quickly causing my head to hurt and I notice a glass of water with some pills near it and a post-it on the nightstand. I pick the note and read it:

"I got you some pills and water, they'll help with your hangover. There are some of my clothes on the chair put them on then come downstairs I'm doing pancakes

-Scarly❤"

I start to get dressed trying to recall at my mind what happened after the party when something hit me. ME AND SCARLETT KISSED!

I fall on the floor tripping over the bed sheet, I stand up again and start going downstairs rubbing my sore back. When I entered the kitchen I saw Scarly focused on not burning the pancake. I walked behind her, slid my hand around her waist, hugging her and kissing her cheek.

(Y/N): Morning love.

SCARLETT: Look who decided to wake up!- she said kissing my lips- How are you feeling?

(Y/N): Me good, my ass not much since I fell on the floor.

We burst laughing and sit at the table starting to eat breakfast without the need to talk about what happened last night cause both of us know that we wanted it for a long time.

Love you you all and be safe

Dasy 🥰

#scarlett johansson x reader #the avengers #marvel #girls who like girls #actor x reader

[plaidbooks]

Witness Protection - part 2

A/N: And here’s the conclusion (for now)! I didn’t do the reunion with the squad, but if anyone wants that, I could. Again, I split the story in two, so this takes place right after last part. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Tags: none

Words: 2716

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy  @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867  @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas  @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner

There weren’t a whole lot of applicants—most people worked at the grocery store or in one of the other little shops in town. But Mike’s eyes lit up when one day, you came in, resumé in your hand.

“Hello! I hope you’re still looking for help? I’d like to apply,” you said, a bright smile on your face.

Mike grinned back, holding his hand out for your resumé. He scanned it quickly, noticing your name, the fact that you were close in age, and seeing that you’ve worked in customer service before.

“I am, yes. Tell me; do you know the difference between a mystery novel and a thriller?” he asked. He wasn’t going to throw you—or anyone—into that position like Gerry had to him. He’d vet you at least a little bit first.

You scrunched up your face as you thought about it, and Mike thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “Well, I don’t have a dictionary definition for you, but in my opinion, mystery novels are more of a…whodunit. It’s the puzzles, the twists and turns until the villain is revealed at the end. Thriller is more…the game between the protagonist and villain. It focuses more on the tension, rather than figuring out who the killer is.”

Mike blinked in surprise. “That’s actually…you’re dead on. And seeing as you’re the only one who gave me a straight answer, I think you’re perfect for the job.”

“Wait, really?” you asked, your hopes soaring.

Mike nodded. “It’ll be working every day, but I’ll let you choose if you want morning or afternoon shift. Either way, I can only pay $15 an hour. If business keeps steady, though, I may be able to give you a raise down the line.”

“What’re the hours?” you queried. The pay would be fine for your little house. Plus, the owner was waaay too cute.

Mike blushed. “Right, that would be useful information, wouldn’t it?” You laughed and he chuckled. “Morning shift is 8am until 1pm. Afternoons are noon until 5pm. I don’t mind working either shift, so it’s entirely up to you and what you can do.”

“Mornings work perfectly fine for me,” you replied, smiling. You were an early bird, anyways.

Mike gave you another bright grin. “Excellent. Come back at 8am tomorrow morning, and I’ll show you the jobs the morning shift does. And welcome aboard.”

 ***********************

Hiring you turned out to be the best choice Mike could’ve made. You caught on quickly; by the second day, Mike didn’t even need to be there training you anymore. You were great with customers, quick with a joke, and were incredibly well-read. Like him, you often filled the empty time with reading. Though, it was less time than Mike had when working for Gerry; you had to make the coffee and tend to the bakery goods, rearranging them when things sold. And with the higher volume of people, books were left on shelves randomly, making you put them in their correct place.

But the best contribution you made was your own pastries. You told Mike you enjoyed baking, and you brought him in a cupcake one day. It was probably the best thing Mike had ever tasted in his life.

“…would you be willing to sell your confections here? I can’t give you extra time off, not unless I hire someone else. But we can have a limited amount, and once they sell out for the day, they’re out—”

“I’d love to,” you replied, smiling. “Maybe not every day, but I usually make a batch of a dozen in my free time. I could always do two dozen, or a dozen of one thing, a dozen of something else.”

Mike nodded. “How about we start off slow, only selling things on Sunday? And if it turns out to be too much work for you, we can stop.”

“Sounds like a deal, boss man.”

 ************************

Your Sunday Special Treats became so popular, that it was obvious one day wasn’t going to cut it. You’d open the store at 8am with two dozen cookies, and they’d be gone within an hour. It got to the point where you’d show up at your normal 7:30am, and there would be a crowd by the doors, eagerly asking which treats you brought in that day. After discussing with Mike, you agreed to bake for both Sunday and Wednesday, for a mid-week treat.

Mike even offered to come by your place after he closed the shop to help you bake, if you wanted another pair of hands.

“Just so you know, though, I’ve never baked a day in my life,” he said, chuckling.

But he was so damn cute, and you were kind of hoping for more than a work relationship with him. Which is why you replied, “I’d appreciate all the help I can get. I can teach you.”

 ************************

It became a biweekly routine. Tuesday and Saturday nights, Mike would come to your place, around 6pm. You would be just starting baking, and he’d wash his hands before jumping in with you. At first, it was a struggle for him to figure out what to do with all the ingredients in front of you. You handwrote all your recipes—recipes passed down through generations of your family—and Mike followed them to the letter.

“The thing with baking, like cooking, you can add a little bit of this or that if it needs it, whether it’s in the recipe or not,” you told him one night.

He gave you a smirk. “But I don’t know when something needs a little this or that.”

“You’ll get it; you’re incredibly smart, Mike.”

He ducked his head, but you saw his cheeks turn a bright pink, a grin on his face.

Working so close together, not just baking, but in the bookstore as well, it was no shock that you fell head over heels for the sweet man. And it was no surprise when he fell just as hard for you. Both of you were afraid of the implications and the power play of Mike being your boss. But it never felt like a boss/employee relationship. It was always just…a partnership.

Eventually, you stopped eating dinner before he showed up, instead offering to make dinner for him. He stopped picking things up to eat on the way to your place, opting to have dinner with you, whether homemade or takeout, it didn’t matter.

One night, you were feeling playful, and you flicked flour into Mike’s face. He gave you a look of disbelief before breaking into a grin. He threw a pinch back into your face, and you let out a laugh so pure, it had Mike’s heart melting. He was leaning against the counter next to you, close enough that your clothes were touching. Your laughter came to an end, and you glanced into his face, smiling at the white powder on his nose and cheeks.

You couldn’t say who leaned in first, but soon enough, your lips were brushing against his before he pushed his more forcefully against yours. One of Mike’s hands went to cup the back of your head, and you grabbed his shirt, holding him to you.

Suddenly, the timer dinged loudly, and you gently pulled away from him, giving him a small smile before going to pull the brownies from the oven. You didn’t mind being interrupted, though; it was the first kiss of many that you would share with Mike Jones.

 ***********************

It was like you were both on the fast track in your relationship. You dated for only a few months before you found a house together. You both ran the shop, Mike raising your pay—while cutting his—until you were equal. And you never thought you could be more in love with someone in your life.

One day, Mike told you that he wanted the shop closed on the next Saturday. When you asked why, he said that he needed to have an important talk with you on Friday night, and that he wanted a free day afterwards; so that you didn’t have to be in bed early, and you had time to process things. He had seemed nervous, and it wasn’t the first time it felt like there was something on his mind while he was with you.

You were slightly worried, but also excited; was he going to propose? You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you had no other explanation to what this talk could be.

Mike came home after closing the shop on Friday evening, carrying takeout in a plastic bag. You greeted him with a kiss, and he gave you a smile. But you could see the nerves and concern in his eyes. After scooping food into a bowl, you both sat at the dining table in the kitchen.

“What I have to say isn’t…easy. And I must stress that it doesn’t leave this house, ever,” he started.

You nodded. “Whatever it is, I’m sure nothing will change, Mike.”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “My last name isn’t Jones. It’s Dodds.”

“What? All this is about a name change—”

“It’s more than that. I—I’m in witness protection.”

You sat there, stunned into silence as Mike gave you his entire life story. He gave you every little detail about himself, about growing up in New York City, about his overbearing father and his career in the Army, boxing, and the NYPD. He told you about his parent’s divorce, about his brother’s drug problems. He told you about his fiancée, about how the hit out on him was probably one of the best things that ever happened to him.

“I miss my family and squad, will always miss them. But until the Western Italian Mafia is dealt with, I can’t go home. And that syndicate is huge; I doubt I ever could go home.” He let out a small chuckle. “After meeting you, though, I don’t know if I want to go home, either.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Why did you tell me all this?” you muttered, conscious of how loud you were talking. “Aren’t you supposed to keep it secret?”

“Technically, yes. Only the FBI and that doctor who pronounced me dead knows. But I…I couldn’t give you all of myself until I gave you, well, all of myself,” he explained, his expression pleading.

You felt goosebumps on your arms. “You really trust me that much?”

“Darling,” he said, shaking his head. He took your hands in his. “I trust you with my life. You’re it, the end game for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tears sprung up in your eyes. “I don’t care if your name is Mike Jones, or Dodds, or anything! I love you, and only you. I want to grow old with you, too.”

The widest grin stretched across his face before he got up from his chair. He came around the table and kneeled in front of you, releasing your hands to cup your face. He used his thumbs to brush the tears from your face before pulling you to him in a kiss full of love and passion.

You leaned back slightly. “You’re safe here in California, right?”

“I should be, yes.”

You nodded. “Good, because I don’t want to lose you. And I’d fight a mafia for you.”

Mike huffed out a laugh, and you tugged him back in for another kiss.

 *****************

Something that Mike learned a few months later was that his driver’s license and birth certificate were enough of an ID to get married. It was a small ceremony, just you, Mike, and your parents. You both agreed that Mike’s parents had both already passed, and he was an only child. Mike got to wear a tuxedo once more, and he dimly thought about what it would’ve been like to marry Alice back in Manhattan. But then he saw you in your simple dress, and those thoughts faded away. He had never been happier as he stood next to you, signing the marriage license, then bringing you in for a tender kiss. For legal reasons, you decided to keep your last name, but that didn’t stop him from calling you Mrs. Jones, or wifey.

 *****************

It took only a month after your wedding for you to wind up pregnant. Both you and Mike were over the moon with excitement and joy. He built the nursery in your home while you made a list of baby names. You were set to have a little boy, and Mike’s only contribution was to veto William and Matthew.

“I don’t want to think about my old family—” he started, but you held up a hand.

“I understand. But what about as a middle name?”

He thought about it. “I guess that’s okay…. Have you chosen a first name yet?”

You smiled softly. “I’m thinking about my father’s name, Phillip. What do you think?”

“I like it. Which do you like more; Phillip William, or Phillip Matthew?” For the same legal reasons, Phillip would have your last name, rather than Mike’s fake one.

You gave him a look. “I chose the first name; this one is on you. Besides, I like them both.”

“You’re a lot of help,” Mike teased, chuckling.

 ******************

Eight months later, Phillip Matthew was born, happy and healthy. He was absolutely perfect, and neither you nor Mike could be prouder or more in love with him. Of course, you both had closed the bookstore for a week while you were in labor and afterwards, both of you doting on your newborn. And when Mike went back to work, it was for limited hours. The town was understanding, almost overtly so.

In fact, you never had to buy diapers—at least for the first few months. Your neighbors gifted you diapers, clothes, food, anything you could happen to need. The bookstore’s hours change to 8am until noon. Then it closed for an hour and reopened until 5pm. Mike worked mornings now; you were busy with Phillip and pumping milk for the afternoon. Then he’d come home, and you’d eat lunch together before you went to the bookstore, leaving Mike to watch and play with Phillip. It was a perfect arrangement, and you were both happy and in love.

Time seemed to fly by; soon enough, Phillip was crawling, then standing, then walking. He was a Daddy’s boy through and through, always following him around the house. His first word was “dada,” and Mike started taking Phillip with him on his evening jogs—he didn’t take morning jogs anymore, instead wanting to spend his mornings with you and Phillip. And when Phillip saw Mike working out, he would attempt to copy him, much to your amusement and worry.

One day, Mike was doing pushups in the living room, and Phillip couldn’t look away. He was still just under two-years-old, and he got down on his knees. You came into the room just in time to watch Phillip, on hands and knees, slam his face into the ground in an attempt at a pushup. You gasped and went to make sure he was alright, but Mike held up a hand, watching his son intently. Instead of crying, Phillip looked up at his father, waiting for praise.

“That was great, Phil. But try not to hit your head on the ground,” Mike said slowly, as if Phillip would understand what he was saying.

Mike got back in a pushup position, and Phillip followed. “Watch me, big guy,” he muttered, slowly going down to the ground. Phillip mimicked, eyes wide and locked on his dad’s grinning face. And when he pushed back up to his knees, Mike’s smile grew.

“Honey, did you see that?! Our little man did a pushup!” Mike announced, moving to sit and pulling Phillip into his lap, hugging him and murmuring encouragement.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I can’t believe you’re having him do pushups with you. You’re going to make him a bodybuilder by five!”

Mike guffawed, picturing it. “Nah—I can get him there by age three.”

You grinned, gazing at your happy family while Mike rolled onto his back, holding Phillip at arm’s length above him.

#mike dodds x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing

[justasparkwritings]

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down? 

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week. 

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx​, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of. 

Banner by me. 

Monday: Pitch Meeting

           “Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

          Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

          Today, Claire decided, that would change.  She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

          “We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

           “I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

           “Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

           “Who are those people?”

           “Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

           “What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

           “My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

           “Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

           “I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

           Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

           “I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

           “Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

           “Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

           You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

           “It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

           “I do!” Claire chimed.

           “Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

           “What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

           “You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

           “It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

           “I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

           Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

          Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

           “Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

           “You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

           “How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

           “Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

           Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

           “I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”  

           “You can’t have one,”

           “Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

           “I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

           “Well, I need their handle,”

           “Fine,”

           “And the intern,” Claire was firm.

           You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

           “Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

           “Thank you,”

           Claire rolled her eyes.

           “Jealous?” You questioned.

           “Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

           “Great,”

           “I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

           “Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

           “If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

           “Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

           “Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

           Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

           “Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

           “Okay,”

           “Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

           “I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

           “I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

           “Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

           “You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

           “What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

           “What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

           “Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

           Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

           “You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

           “Me?”

           “Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

           “He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

           “Potato, Tomato,”

           “You should talk-

           “Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

           “Fine, fine.”

           “I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

           “That’s a lie,”

           “Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.  

           “Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

           “No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

           “You should,” He suggested.

           “I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

           “Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

           “Bitchy?”

           “Your words, then she would like you,”

           “She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

           “He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

           “Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

           “You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

           “He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”  

           Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

           “If he’s not there,” You answered.

           “I can’t promise that,”

           “Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

           Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

           “Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

           “I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

           “Great!”

           “I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

           “I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

           “At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

           “Well-

           “You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

           “I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

           “That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

           “You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

           “Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

           “Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

           Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

           “I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

           “Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

           “Because I love you,”

           “Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

           “I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

           “Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

           “You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

           “Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

           “So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

           “Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

           “And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

           “Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

           “Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

           Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

           “What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

           “Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

           “I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

          Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

           “Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

          “What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

          “In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

           “No!”

           “Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.  

           “I would never,” You glowered.

           “You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

          “I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

          “Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

          “Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

          “July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

          “I, I, no!”

          “October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

          “He started it!”

          “Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

          “I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

          “Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

          “Know what?”

          “About your vendetta,”

          “It’s not a vendetta!”

          “Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

          “I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

          “His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

          “You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

          “Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

          “You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

          “Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

          “I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

          “I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

          You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

          “You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

          “We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

          “You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

          “It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

          “This is entirely personal.”

          “Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

          “No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.  

          “Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

          “I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

          “It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

          “Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

          “You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

          “Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

          “Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

          “You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.  

          “You agreed to-

          “No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

          It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

          “I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

          Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

          “Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

          As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

          “Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

          “She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

          “Did you?”

          “No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

          “Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

          “No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

          “Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

          “Until you what?”

          “Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

          “She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

          Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

          “Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

          “No, something weird is going on,”

          You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

          “I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

          “He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

          “I-

          “Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

          “What if he-

          “Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

          “Okay,”

          “I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

          “Thank you,”

          “I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

          “I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

          “I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

          Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

          “To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

          “I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

          “Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

          “You still live at the same place?”

          “No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

          “You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

          “What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

          “I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

          “I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

          “Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

          “I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.  

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanuniversity #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #park jimin #park jimin angst #park jimin fluff #exes to lovers #enemies to lovers #non idol au #BTS fic #BTS fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin / you #jimin / reader #jimin x you #jimin x reader #park jimin / you #park jimin / reader #park jimin x you #park jimin x reader #club Jimin #jung hoseok / j hope #jung hoseok #jimin exes to lovers #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bangtanarmynet

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 2/6

Chapter 1

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death (very brief, not graphic)

Notes: Yes it is six chapters now lmao

---

Alex is one month, 4 breakdowns, and probably $100 worth of coffee (even with his employee discount) into his first semester of college and more than prepared for his daily screaming into a pillow session. He stumbles into his dorm, but comes to a screeching halt as soon as the door closes behind him.

“You’re painting the walls.”

Willies spins around, narrowly avoiding falling off his step stool, and gives Alex a lopsided grin. “Wonderful observation,” he quips, hopping down with a paintbrush still in his hand.

“You- you can’t do that.” Alex gapes at him, dumbfounded.

“Ah, can’t I?” Willie raises his eyebrows, smiling. His cheeks are flushed and his hair has been haphazardly pulled up, flyaways falling to frame his face. Alex shakes himself from his reverie. This is not the time to be admiring Willie, idiot.

“No- that’s… that’s against the rules,” Alex says desperately. “The RA lives like, right next door.”

“He’s colorblind,” Willie reassures Alex. “And a homophobic asshole.”

“He’s- what? I…” Alex runs his hands over his face, breathing in deeply. “Okay. Okay. Uh, why are you painting the walls?”

Willie settles into the couch, humming thoughtfully. “I was working on that one essay but couldn’t focus because-” he waves his hands around his head vaguely, like that’s supposed to explain his thoughts. “-and then I remembered that there was a sale at Home Depot so here we are.”

Alex looks up at the wall, trying to ignore the anxiety clutching at his chest like mistletoe to a tree. It’s fine, it’ll be fine. “Why blue?” His voice comes out much less calm than he’d hoped.

“It’s my favorite color,” Willie replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m only painting that one wall anyway, the sale was just for the mini paint buckets. I think a pop of color is nice, y’know?” He jerks his hands in the direction of the wall, grinning.

“You’re gonna have us killed,” Alex states simply. “I’m gonna be expelled and have to crash at Julie’s again and I won’t have a college education and the band is gonna fail and I’ll be uneducated and living on the streets.”

“Woah, hey.” Wille stands up, face knitted with worry. He sets a hand on Alex’s shoulder, steadying him. “Dude, I didn’t know it would freak you out. Shit, uh, I can paint over it. Really, it was stupid and impulsive.”

Alex shakes his head. “No, no it’s fine. It’s just-” In for 4, out for 8, deep breaths Alex. “Just stupid anxiety, I’m overthinking.”

Willie tilts his head to the side slightly. “Yea? You sure you’re cool with it?”

And he really is… cool with it, at least sort of. Apparently there’s an override switch in his brain that makes it so of something makes Willie happy, Alex can’t help but be okay with it. Huh. That’s new.

“Um…” Now that his brain is less foggy, Alex is realizing that Willie is like… really close. “Uh, yea. Just… don’t go painting any murals in the bathroom.”

Willie laughs loudly, throwing his head back and bouncing slightly on his heels. Alex’s gaze rakes over his face, golden sunlight seeping through the window and dancing across Willie’s cheeks. There’s a certain comfort to the way the sun comes through the window each evening. Miraculously, their dorm is positioned in an odd way that gives them a west and east facing window; and the way the light drapes over Willie is different at sunset compared to sunrise. It’s looser, makes him look free and like he keeps the sun right in his pocket, only letting it out when Alex is near. Stupidly, Alex thinks he wouldn’t have much trouble forgiving any future bathroom murals. One month, they’ve known each other for a month and Alex is already waxing poetic about him. He scolds himself internally.

“Tell you what,” Willie starts, stepping back and gesturing vaguely. “I’ll buy you a coffee to make up for it.”

“Dude it’s like 5pm,” Alex reasons, but his resolve is already dwindling at the sight of Willie’s playful grin.

“And? It’s the weekend.” Willie tosses an arm over Alex’s shoulders, sticking his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. “It’s just coffee.”

“Remind me what happened last time you drank coffee.”

Willie sighs mournfully. “We do not speak of the carnation incident.”

“Right,” Alex chuckles. “Okay. Fine. But no more painting the walls.”

“Aye aye captain!” Willie gives a theatrical salute before waltzing out the door with Alex at his heels.

5:30pm in late September means it’s just chilly enough to wear jeans instead of shorts and just sunny enough to see light slipping through the trees and grass. Willie seems to be a magnet for the sunlight, leading it in a subtle dance as they walk across campus. Alex follows the way his hair sways in the light breeze, painted in a sheet of gold and bronze, like it’s been dipped in a liquid campfire. He wonders if his heartbeat is synced to the rhythm of Willie’s feet, marveling at how each step seems to send a ripple through Alex’s entire body. It’s unfair, the way the evening sun makes everything seem softer and more poetic, and Alex thinks that he could write an entire song about the way Willie glances over at him with a teasing smile. In a- a friend way of course. Because everyone thinks about how beautiful their friends look while walking. Of course.

Willie turns to Alex with his head tilted slightly. His expression is frustratingly unreadable. There’s blue paint brushed across the bridge of his nose and his left cheekbone, like his skin is stained with bits of the sky and Alex has a weird urge to bring his hand up and brush it away, but also a weird desire for that paint to be there forever; it suits Willie. His eyes, shining amber in the light, glance over Alex’s face and Alex feels like he’s being put under a spotlight except Willie’s the only person in the audience. Willie finally speaks his mind, his voice gentle. “Your hair looks golden in this light”

Alex feels his entire face go pink and he almost squeaks “You can’t just say those things!” But his tongue seems to be caught in the back of his throat so he opts for a mortified smile before turning to focus on the sidewalk right ahead of him. Willie doesn’t elaborate, or pressure Alex into responding, and they lapse back into a comfortable silence.

It isn’t until they’re just outside the coffeeshop that Alex comes to what is probably a mildly important realization. Bobby’s working right now. Bobby, Carrie’s cousin who’s known Alex as long as Luke and Reggie have, occasionally plays with the band, and has been involved in too many conversations about a certain long-haired skater. Alex’s stomach fills with an unmistakable dread at this thought.

“Alex? You good?” Willie bumps their shoulders and shoots him a smile that’s soft around the edges. “You can just get tea if you’re that anxious about the coffee.”

“No,” Alex chuckles, attempting to mask his stilted breathing. “It’s fine, coffee’s a good idea anyway. I need to stay up and practice that one horrible drum solo my professor insists I perfect.”

“And you have to do that tonight?”

“Yea, the band has a gig on Sunday so Luke’s probably gonna lock me in the studio to rehearse all of tomorrow.”

Willie giggles bubbily, his eyes squinting in the way that makes Alex’s stomach flip. Alex opens the door and a stupid piece of his mind itches to grab Willie’s hand to pull him in. He doesn’t.

Alex likes his workplace. The lights are warm and drape like a blanket over the building, the walls are decked in posters and paintings and vinyls, the windows are clothed with too many plants to count, and the chairs are the type you can just melt into and fall asleep. If he was still religious, he’d thank god for the fact that he was able to score a job here instead of a stiff, concrete chain store. The place is owned by the sweetest middle-aged lesbian couple who like to bring their cats by and let Alex take home leftover food when he has the closing shift. He likes it, and finding a customer service job Alex enjoys is like finding a needle in a haystack. And yet, his whole body is buzzing with nerves. He loves Bobby, he does, but the boy is just as fond of teasing Alex as Luke and Reggie are, and of course Willie had to pick right now.

Willie’s grinning as soon as he processes his surroundings. “Dude you didn’t tell me this place was so cool!” He grips Alex’s forearm excitedly and Alex’s entire brain just… short circuits. He’s sure Willie’s gushing about the mural on the back wall, because he has the awestruck and giddy expression he always gets when talking about art or skateboarding, but Alex’s brain is not registering a single thing Willie says.

Alex hears a loud and deliberate cough and is swiftly pulled from his mind, realizing three things: He is blatantly staring at Willie with a smile he doesn’t even want to see, Willie is still holding onto his arm and rambling, and Bobby is looking on with an expression that tells Alex that there is most certainly a new picture on his phone that will make for wonderful blackmail material.

“Alex, who could this be?” Bobby asks, and of course he’s the one with a scary good poker face because Alex almost believes that he truly is clueless.

Willie lets go of Alex’s arm, a cruel trick of the light making it look like he’s blushing. He gives Bobby a wave. “That’d be me. I’m Willie, Alex’s roommate.”

“Oh!” Bobby smiles innocently. “The famous Willie!”

“Famous?” Willie cocks an eyebrow at Alex. “You talk about me, hotdog?”

“Hotdog?” Bobby gives Alex an expression identical to Willie’s, but laced with mischief instead of fondness. Alex has an inexplicable urge to flee.

“Let’s just get our drinks,” Alex squeaks, herding Willie up to the counter and sneaking a death glare at Bobby on the way over.

“Hmm, and what’ll that be?” Bobby asks, making a point to plaster on his customer service smile.

“Medium cold brew with cinnamon almond-milk foam for me and a medium green tea for Willie, decaf.”

Willie looks at Alex incredulously. “You know my tea order?”

“It’s- it’s all you drink!” Alex squeaks defensively, picking at the collar of his shirt because when did it get so warm?

Bobby snickers. “Okay, one pretentious-ass cold brew and a horribly boring tea.”

Willie goes to pay, chuckling under his breath.

“Your drinks should be ready shortly, by the way Alex, I like this one,” Bobby snickers.

“Oookay!” Alex blurts, dragging Willie from the counter in hopes that he didn’t hear the last bit of Bobby’s sentence. His cheeks are burning as he directs them to his favorite corner of the shop. There are two chairs nestled in the corner, partially hidden by a rickety bookshelf and a wall of plants that hang down and will occasionally brush against the chair’s occupant. In the mornings, the sun shines through in a way that makes the chairs perfect for curling up like a cat seeking warmth. Alex sinks down into the seat nearest to the wall with a contented sigh and shuts his eyes, humming softly. “This is my favorite chair,” he mutters, eyes still closed.

“Hmm.” Willie’s response sounds odd, so Alex cracks open one eye only to find Willie sat in the chair beside him, elbows on the armrest closest to Alex, his chin resting in his palms. He’s looking at Alex with his lips curled into an almost wistful smile and suddenly Alex feels awfully overwhelmed. “It’s a very nice chair,” Willie says, leaning back to relax his head against the cushion and swinging his legs over the arm rest. Alex almost mourns his gaze, but he quickly shakes that feeling. It’s silly.

A gentle breeze drifts in through the window, which is always open slightly at this time of year, when it’s not too hot and not too cold out. Alex’s nose wrinkles, feeling the plant hanging above his head dance across his face in response to the wind. He hears Willie giggle beside him and he whips around, definitely not pouting. “What?”

“You made a face,” Willie responds, gesturing to his own face and mimicking Alex’s previous expression. “It was cu- it was uh, funny.” Willie goes red for a split second, but Alex writes it off as the heat and is about to ask if he wants the window closed when Bobby comes walking up, drinks in hand.

“I’m obligated by contract to warn you, Willie, that Alex with caffeine past 3 is never a sight you want to behold,” Bobby says, handing them their drinks and pulling up a chair to sit across from them.

“There is no such contract,” Alex protests. “And you’re exaggerating.” He takes a sip of his coffee, glaring at Bobby from behind the cup.

“Maybe not a formal one.” Bobby turns to face Willie now. “Seriously, caffeine at night makes him emotional for some reason.”

“Liar!”

“No dog movies when Alex has coffee at night, he’ll be sobbing for hours, even if the dog lives.”

“Noted,” Willie says, laughing. Alex contemplates kicking Bobby.

“Hey Bobbers, remember that time when you tried jumping an electric fence half naked because you got caught sneaking into a pool at night to impress a girl?”

Bobby blinks, his expression uncaring. “You cannot embarrass me,” he says. “I have no shame whatsoever.”

“Of course you don’t,” Alex grumbles.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Willie-”

“We should get back before dark!” Alex interrupts. He grabs Willie’s hand and all but shoves him from the shop, shouting at Bobby the whole way to prevent him from saying anything more to embarrass him.

Willie looks up at Alex, clearly amused, and they begin the walk back to their dorm. “Bobby seems nice,” He says nonchalantly.

Alex groans loudly. “No, no he’s terrible. He is one of my best friends and I despise him.”

Willie nods, sipping his tea. “Your friends are all pretty cool.”

“Yea… yea they’re great.” Alex pauses, sighing. “I don’t know where I’d be without them. The streets, probably,” Alex snorts bitterly at the last bit. It doesn’t cross his mind that Willie hasn’t been filled in on this. He doesn’t want to get into it. Willie seems to get the hint, brushing the confusion from his face in favor of looking up at the sky.

“I’ve always wished I was better at landscape paintings,” Willie whispers, his tone practically reverent. “Some people can just… capture every detail and emotion in- in sunsets and what-not. And it’s- it’s insane!” He gestures wildly with his hands as he talks, tea threatening to spill everywhere. “I can do abstract just fine, it’s my favorite. But my landscapes are always so… bland. I wish I could paint the feeling behind it as much as the plain details.”

Alex has seen his landscapes, and thinks them far from bland, but he doesn’t say anything. Willie has a way of turning the most horrifically boring pieces into storms of color and emotion, and Alex thinks that each brushstroke holds a piece of his soul. But he keeps his mouth shut.

“The sunset is nice,” Willie says. “I love when the clouds are pink like this. My mom used to-” he laughs nostalgically, remembering something. “-she used to tell me stories about the clouds. They all had their own personalities and lives and families. She would sit at her easel, painting the clouds, and I would be at her feet just… absolutely mesmerized.” There’s a certain shine in Willie’s eyes that Alex hasn’t seen before; it’s bittersweet and sort of disconnected. “And somehow… somehow she could show the cloud’s personalities in the paintings. I wish I could do that. She was the one who made me love art; I remember when I got my first skateboard, I stayed up for hours painting the bottom and I was so proud of it. And after I grew out of it she... she hung it on the wall above the mantel and would tell everyone who saw it how awesome it was”

Willie’s taken on a new demeanor, and Alex realizes this is the first time he’s spoken about his parents. “She seems amazing,” Alex mutters, voice quiet like he’s afraid of breaking something.

“Yea,” Willie replies. “She… she was.” He lets out a shaky breath. Oh. “She was a single mom, I never knew my father, never had the chance to ask about him. She died in a car crash when I was 14, I’ve lived with my uncle Caleb since.”

“Oh. Willie I-”

“It’s fine. I miss her, but it’s been four years y’know? I’m not… shrouded in grief like I used to be.” He gives Alex a genuine smile to prove it, and bumps their shoulder together. “C’mon, we’re almost home.”

Home. Home used to be Luke and Reggie and Julie, now… now Alex isn’t quite sure. College still feels new and different, and he often feels like his doesn’t belong. His dorm doesn’t feel much like home, it feels like a hotel room, like he’s a guest. But Willie… Willie feels more like home than anything in that dorm. Willie and his stupid blue wall and his long rambling and loud laughing. Home is Luke and Reggie and Julie and Willie, and that’s completely and utterly terrifying to Alex.

---

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

Notes: This chapter was gonna be longer but I felt like that was a good place to leave off. I hope you liked it :)))

Taglist: @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby

#willex #jatp #julie and the phantoms #willex fic #jatp fic #willex fanfiction #willex fanfic #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #willow writes #wille jatp #willie nolastname #alex mercer #bobby wilson #bobby jatp #reggie peters #luke patterson #julie molina #ytotbts #you’re the one that brings the sun

[petri808]

Pranks Are So Revealing Sometimes…

@itafushiweek One bed prompt

After everything had finally settled and damages were assessed to Tokyo jujutsu high following the Kamo incident, the faculty decided it was time for a full renovation. They would fix the damaged areas but also update other undamaged parts. Including the dorms according to their teacher. The students were given a schedule of when each of their rooms would be worked on and given boxes to pack their belongings for temporary storage.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo grinned. “Shouldn’t take more than a day or two per room.”

“Yeah, okay,” Megumi stared back up at his teacher after reading the information. “But where are we supposed to sleep if our room is being renovated?”

“Oh, well since the unoccupied rooms will also be renovated during this process…” the man tapped his chin. “Got it! You bunk with Yuuji, then switch when it’s his rooms turn.”

“Cool! A sleepover!” Yuuji pumped his fists in the air. “We can hang out and watch movies and eat junk food and just crash from a food coma.”

Megumi swallowed thickly with a groan. “I’d rather you give me your credit card,” directing his comment to Gojo, “so I can get a hotel room.”

“No, can do buddy. Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

Yuuji threw an arm over Megumi’s. “It’ll be fine,” his brilliant smile causing the man’s cheeks to redden. “Movies and food, we’ll have fun.”

Megumi looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ugh! Fine!”

“Good.” Gojo patted his student on the shoulder. “Now that’s settled, get packing young Megumi. Tomorrow we’ll be starting with your room.”

With Yuuji’s help, it didn’t take long for Megumi to pack up his belongings. There really wasn’t much, fitting everything into 3 medium sized boxes. Mostly clothes, some books, and minor items. He packed a bag with just enough to be displaced a couple of days, and if the renovations took longer, he could probably just borrow clothes from Yuuji. They were roughly the same size anyway. The boxes were then taken to Yuuji’s room and stacked in a corner out of the way.

But the full toll of the situation didn’t really hit Megumi until the morning of the renovations. He was awoken around 7 am by Gojo, letting him know the construction workers would be there in 15 minutes. Great. So, he dragged himself out of bed and walked into Yuuji’s room planning to get a couple more hours of sleep. It should be fine considering Yuuji rarely got up early on a day off.

The problem was— ‘Only one bed…’ Megumi groaned internally as he swiped his hand down his face. Duh! How could he have missed this detail?! And there was no way to fit a second bed in the room since they were only designed for single occupancy.

“Ugh…” Megumi shuffled back out of the room in irritation. Guess he’ll just go get breakfast and figure out what to do next!

Look, he didn’t have a problem sharing a bed with another person. It’s just sleeping on a bed instead of the hardwood floor, what’s the issue with that? If it was anyone else, Nobara, Toge, Maki, Yuta, whatever— no problem. The PROBLEM is it’s Yuuji. Maybe one of them will let him stay with them? Megumi put his head down on the kitchen table with his arms over his head in frustration. No… that would be weird to ask. Gojo already made all the arrangements between everyone, so if he suddenly had an issue with it, they might find that suspicious and he really didn’t need them asking questions, or worse teasing him about it.

He could hear it all too. What’s wrong with Yuuji? You worried something might happen? Too afraid to confront your feelings. Wink, wink. Aww that’s so cute you’re embarrassed. But Yuuji’s a good catch. Yada, Yada. Maki’s monotone, “just man up” tone was not something Megumi wanted to hear. ‘It’s just a night or two… no big deal. He’ll sleep on one side; I’ll sleep on the other. What could go wrong?’

“Morning!”

Megumi’s body immediately went stiff at the sound of Yuuji voice. Damn guy was like a cat this morning, he never heard him come in! Or did he just miss it because he was too wrapped up in his mind?

“Yeah… morning,” Megumi responded as he sat up in his chair and pretended everything was fine. “Sorry, I didn’t make coffee or anything yet.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can make breakfast. Want some?” Yuuji responded in his chipper way.

“Sure, since you’re offering.”

“I see they started working on your room. That’s what woke me up.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, That’s why I’m up too. Gojo kicked me out at 7.”

“Oh, if you were tired, you could’ve just gone back to sleep in my room.”

“Nah. I’m fine.”

“You still look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Yuuji placed a plate of food in front of his friend, then sat down across from him with his own. “So, got any plans for today?”

“Not really.”

“I was thinking of grabbing some snacks from the store for tonight.”

“Something happening tonight?”

“Movie night! Remember?”

“You were serious about that?!”

“Of course! We rarely have time to relax, so this is a perfect opportunity.”

“Well, since I’m stuck in your room… what movie are you picking?”

“You can choose. I don’t really care. How about I’m in charge of snacks and you grab the movies.”

“Fine. I’ll dig something up.”

The pair part ways for the rest of the day. Megumi felt it best to keep himself occupied so he wouldn’t think about that night. So, after breakfast he got some training in with Yuta and Maki who between the two really kept him on his toes. The construction work on his room sounded a lot more extensive than Gojo had relayed based on all the noise coming from within. Someone had placed a “do not enter” sign on the door, and so when Megumi walked past it, he didn’t bother peeking. By the time he returned from shopping around 5pm, it was silent. ‘Guess they’re done for the day.’ But since the sign was still up, it wasn’t finished. ‘Ugh, it better be done by tomorrow night.’

“Hey, Megumi!”

Megumi froze in place. Damn it with Yuuji sneaking up on him! He turned around. “Yeah?”

“I got food!” Yuuji held up two plastic bags stuffed full. “Dinner, snacks, drinks. Did you grab the movies?”

Megumi pulled three DVD cases out of his shopping bag and showed it to his friend. Three movies would kill about six hours, which meant sleeping right after they were finished, equaled less dead time to worry about.

“Sweet! Let’s get started!”

The moment of dread was upon Megumi the instant he walked into Yuuji’s room and laid eyes on that single bed. And as the dorm mate puttered around oblivious to his nervousness, he just watched quietly as the man plopped the bags onto the bed and grabbed a laptop from the desk. This was it, no turning back now.

“Why are you just standing there?” Yuuji questioned with laughter in his tone and patted the bed. “Come on, before the food gets cold.”

Megumi rolled his eyes as if nothing was wrong, but his heartbeat picked up the pace with each step towards the bed. He should be happy that Yuuji was so oblivious to emotions, and yet a part of him was annoyed… maybe disappointed… Megumi quickly shut those thoughts down as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“So, just to get it out of the way. How is this gonna work? Like which side do I sleep on?” Megumi questioned.

Yuuji stopped fusing with a food container and looked over. “Oh, hmm, doesn’t matter to me. I can sleep on either side.”

Well since he was already on one side. “I’ll just take this side I’m on then.”

Yuuji gave him a thumbs up. “Pass me the first movie.”

The first movie… all the movies he’d chosen were just action types. Megumi wanted something with as little romance as possible and knew Yuuji didn’t mind action or horror. Frankly, he thought it was funny his friend still loved horror after becoming a jujutsu sorcerer. Don’t they see enough of it in real life? Between the movies and the eating, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Yuuji became so engrossed in what was on the screen, it helped his anxieties stay lowered.

Megumi had taken up a position with his back against the wall sitting upright, and legs stretched out in front of him, while Yuuji was next to him with about a foot of space between them. Mid-way through the third movie, Megumi was genuinely paying attention since he’d never seen it before, when he felt a pressure against his shoulder. His eyes flared, cheeks heated up, and adrenaline spiked his heart rate. Yuuji had fallen asleep against his shoulder. No kidding this guy could fall asleep anywhere! Versus him who was too wide awake now to even think about it.

The last thing he wanted to do was awaken the sleeping man and make things even more awkward. So, Megumi tried to gently push his friend away to simply rest against the wall. His first several tries failed, but on the fourth, success… briefly.

“Mmm,” Yuuji stirred without waking and shifted on his own to curl up in Megumi’s lap instead!

‘Fuck, my life!’ Megumi screamed in his head. Things just went from bad to a disaster!

Again, Megumi tried to shift the man away, but every time he tried Yuuji would whine.

“Stop moving…” Yuuji mumbled and wrapped his arms around Megumi’s waist, snuggling his face deeper into the man’s leg.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Megumi gritted out in a muffled anger. By now, his whole body felt like it’d been stuck in a furnace and was being roasted alive. Ugh! Yuuji had turned into a damn octopus clinging to its meal! And yet… Megumi had to admit the man was cute as he slept. Geez, he even smiled in his sleep!

Not much he could really do, Megumi exhaled in defeat. So, he did his best to turn off the laptop screen using his foot and shift it close enough to reach. He then grabbed it and placed it onto the nightstand next to the bed, leaving them in a darkened room with only the gentle breathing of Yuuji as any sound. Okay, fine! Megumi counseled himself. Just ignore the fact there’s someone attached to you and try to get some sleep. The faster he went to sleep, the faster the nightmare would end. So, he shifted his body to lie down, then turned over onto his side hoping Yuuji would also readjust.

And the man did, just not in a way Megumi wanted. Yuuji simply snuggled up to his back and weaved an arm around his torso like he was one of those giant stuffed animals you win at a fair! He pushed the arm away, but it sprang back into place.

Megumi screamed in his head. He was so tired… ‘just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it…’

The sound of birds chirping caused Megumi to rouse the next morning. Perfect, his torture was over, it was time to get up— ‘Why was the pillow so hard—’ his eyes opened in a panic as his hand felt the unmistakable sensation of muscle beneath clothing. Without moving an inch only his eyes shifted over and saw the outline of Yuuji’s body lying on his back and he was curled up against his side! ‘Oh, fuck!’

Fight or flight kicked into overdrive as Megumi sprang from the bed like a cat and bolted out of the room. Every nerve ending along his skin was on fire and his mind freaking out, praying Yuuji had slept through it all. ‘This is gonna be so awkward if— What the?!’

As soon as he made it out of the room, Megumi almost ran right smack into Gojo. The man had one hand on Megumi’s bedroom door and the other carried a cursed doll, like the one Yuuji had trained with to practice energy control. “What is that for?”

Realizing he was busted, Gojo slipped the doll behind his back. “Nothing. I was just gonna check on the progress.”

“Uh-huh…” Megumi’s eyebrow raised, instantly suspicious. “Well, let’s just check,” he opened the door himself and walked in. “What’s going on?!” He whipped around. “Are they finished?” Because his room looked exactly like he’d left it the morning before. And he meant exactly!

“Really?!” Gojo pretended to be surprised. “That was quick! Looks like you can move back in. Well, see you at breakfast.”

Gojo turned to leave but Megumi grabbed his shoulder.

“Oi! What the hell?! There was no construction was there you prick?!”

“Nonsense! They must’ve finished yesterday.”

Megumi narrowed a menacing glare at the teacher. “That damn doll was the one making all the noise, wasn’t it?”

“Um… no…”

“And you were about to plant it for a second day!”

“Of course, not! I’m just carrying it around…”

“You’re such a shit liar!”

“Careful Megumi, might wanna keep your voice down lest wake up Yuuji.”

“What do I care if he wakes up now?”

“He’ll find you missing and the bed empty and be sad.” Gojo grinned defiantly then took off in a sprint, cackling like a mad man down the hall.

Bastard pranked him! Megumi screamed as he took off after the man. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

#itafushi week #itafushi #itafushi fan fiction #itafushi fan fic #itadori yuuji #megumi fushiguro #satoru gojo #one bed prompt #fushita

[duskholland]

9.45pm - Peter Parker

summary ↠ you work the closing shift at a bakery and Spider-Man makes a habit of appearing at 9.45pm to walk you home. 

word count ↠ 3.7k

warnings ↠ a lil bit of angst/hurt and comfort. minor descriptions of injury. a bit of swearing, but this is mostly fluff.

a/n ↠ I really loved writing this one. I felt so happy the whole time and ! I am very excited for people to read it, so I hope you enjoy it :)) I’ve also recently redone my taglist, so if you’re interested in that, it should be linked at the bottom of the post. feedback always appreciated!

THE BAKERY YOU WORK AT is one of New York’s hidden gems. Tucked away beneath a level of luxurious townhouses, the small space is covered in vintage artwork, bright leafy plants, and warm exposed lightbulbs that cast a web of kaleidoscopic light across the space. Your regulars love the way it’s their secret, love the way it’s as if they’re walking into their own secret hiding space every time they creep down the green metal staircase and walk in through the jangling door, and you love the way it’s like a little community revolves around the place. The air is always alight with the scent of fresh pastries and sound of relaxed laughs, and there really isn’t anywhere else you’d rather escape to after school.

You always work the closing shift on weekdays, slipping down into the shop at 5pm and locking up at 10pm. It’s always the quietest hours for the bakery - the best loaves of bread and the most perfectly iced cupcakes are always snatched up by commuters in the morning, so the only groups of people who wander into the bakery when you’re there are those on the lookout for discounted baked goods. It’s always relaxed, and as the hours creep by, more than often you find yourself being paid to sit behind the counter and read a book than actually deal with any customers, so it’s a winning combination all around.

Your job at the bakery is normal and unassuming. That is, until the night Spider-Man stumbles into your shop.

It’s around 9.45pm, and you’ve just finished pulling down the shutters. Your shop may be set on the basement level of the building, but you have two large windows at the front that catch the light from the sun and drowse the bakery in a warm golden glow during the day. At night, however, it’s a little creepy, and you’re happy it’s almost closing time so you can quickly walk home and clamber into bed. It’s been a long day.

The bell perched on the door rings loudly and you jump, clutching at your heart as you spin around to greet the latecomer, hoping that they aren’t expecting too much. At this stage in the night, the only goods leftover are the ones you haven’t snacked on: a round cherry pie, a few broken biscuits, and a box of crumbling scones. As you open your mouth to greet the customer, your eyes fall on the figure and you find yourself stumbling over your words.

It’s… Spider-Man?

“Uh- uh, hi, M-Mr Spider-Man,” you squeak, feeling the hot heat of your blood pulse across your cheeks. Faced with the iconic red and blue colours of the spidersuit, you find your mind blanking, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Though you can’t see the face beneath the mask, you get the overwhelming suspicion that you’re being chuckled at.

“I’m hungry,” he replies. Your eyebrows raise as you take in the soft, high voice that escapes him. “My, uh, my aunt always talks about this place, and I saw it was open, so…”

You clear your throat. Right. That’s fine. Spider-Man knows your bakery. Spider-Man is here in front of you. Spider-Man wants some cakes. This is fine.

Swallowing down your nerves, you nod and attempt a wide smile. You gesture to the cabinet and walk back towards the counter. “We’ve not got much left, I’m afraid. We close in ten minutes, so most of the good stuff’s been taken.” You peer back at the cabinet. “There’s a cherry pie, some biscuits, a few pastries, or some scones.” You look up at him, and as unnerving as it is to look at a masked figure, you smile again. “Anything grab you?”

He pads across the floor and scratches at his chin. “Could I have the pie?” He asks, after a moment. “Oh, and, uh, the biscuits.” He looks up at you. “What happens to this all if it isn’t sold?”

You rub your hands together, a little surprised by his question. “Well, it’ll go off by tomorrow, so if I don’t eat it, it gets thrown out.”

The eyes of the Spider-Man suit are incredibly emotive, you realise, as you understand the way they’ve moved is to imitate shock. Spider-Man himself sighs quietly. “Do you want any of this stuff? Like- will you eat it?” He asks.

You shake your head, biting your lower lip guiltily. You’ve already cleared out the treats you like. All that’s left now are your rejects. “Nah, I don’t like this stuff,” you admit.

His posture shifts and Spider-Man stands taller. “I’ll take it all, then. Please.”

You hide your surprise and instead grab a box and begin to wrap up the goods. He’s watching you carefully, and you can’t help but smile shyly up at him. “Busy night?” You ask, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

He shrugs. “Not really. Crime’s pretty low at the moment. Just small things - yanno, petty crime, small break-ins, stuff like that.” He glances around at your shop. “Are you the only one working just now?”

You nod as you wrap up the box in the special bakery paper. “Yeah, I close by myself on weekdays. Gets kinda lonely, but it’s nice, in a way.”

“You guys have good security here?” And he’s off, walking around the shop, glancing at the doors and the windows. 

“Eh.” You shrug. “The boss had cameras put in, but that’s about it. I like to think that this place is off the beaten track enough to not be the source of any robberies.” You prefer not to think of it, really.

“Right.” Spider-Man wanders back to the counter and you place the finished box on the top for him. “Well, how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” When you know he’s about to protest, you interrupt. “Really, it’s on the house. This would all go to waste anyway, so… You’re really doing me a favour. Please take it.” You glance across the bakery and see the clock says 10pm. “Anyway, it’s 10pm now, so, technically I’m not allowed to make any further sales.” And you smile, knowing you’ve won.

He’s silent for a moment. “Thanks, uh…”

“Y/N.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. “Do you leave now? Can I wait with you?” When you raise an eyebrow, he adds, “It’s not always safe out there, especially when you’re alone.”

“Alright,” you agree, trying to hide the fact that you’re ecstatic. Spider-Man wants to look after you?  The Spider-Man.

He waits for you as you complete your normal checks: cash box, windows, door. After a quick tidy up of the place, you wrap yourself in your large jacket and follow Spider-Man from the shop. Once the front door’s securely locked, you tuck the key in your pocket and shrug at him. “Okay, well, that’s me done now,” you say. It’s chilly, and despite the street illuminated by street-lamps, it’s also eerily dark. In the distance, you hear the chilling sounds of groups of people, their yells and shrieks cutting through the air.

“Can I walk you home?”

You look down at your feet. “Don’t you have other people to look after?” You ask. “Cities to save, and all that?”

You can almost sense the smile from beneath his mask. “Nope,” he says, voice light. “Just you.”

And you sigh, because really, how could you say no? “Okay,” you agree. “That would be nice.”

There’s a soft pause, and you have to fight the toothy grin off your face. It’s just the promise of a walk home, but you can’t help but feel that it’s somehow far more significant than that. With the way he gently nudges your shoulder with his, you have the feeling he knows the same.

“Show me the way, Y/N!”

----------

Over the following few weeks, Spider-Man drops in almost every day. Always at 9.45pm, always in search of sweet treats, and always ending in him escorting you home,  your hands occasionally bumping together. And after a few encounters, you feel as if you’re starting to know him.

You chat to him, and ask about him, and feel like you get to know him. He’s still a mystery to you, of course, but you work out he’s seventeen too, and he’s incredibly smart. He’s got a large heart, and so much kindness and consideration tucked away beneath that suit that you know there’s no one better to take the mantle of Spider-Man and be the superhero the city’s so proud of. And he seems to care about you, too. On several occasions, you’ve been wiping down the tables when he’s grabbed a spare rag and started working alongside you, asking about your family, your pets, your friends… Everything that makes you you, really. And it’s very nice. Very, truly, sweetly nice.

So nice in fact that you find yourself daydreaming in chemistry class, your hands moving with your thoughts as you doodle absentmindedly over a spare page in your notebook. You’ve finished your lab and the teacher’s run out to grab something, so as you wait for the bell to ring, you let yourself unwind. Your eyes are focused lazily on the paper, you don’t even comprehend what you’re drawing until someone taps you on the back and you startle to attention.

“Hu- what?” You mutter, looking up suddenly. The tap came from a figure standing bashfully behind you. Peter Parker. “Uh, Peter, hi.” You don’t know him well, but you’ve been in the same classes since you transferred to Midtown for sophomore year. He’s always kept to himself, but you think he’s a nice guy.

“Hi.” His nervous brown eyes flit around your face, and you find your cheeks warming. “Whatcha drawing?”

Before you can cover your embarrassing scribble, the drawing’s in his hands and he’s staring at the image intently.

“Oh, uh, just, uh, Spider-Man?” Now your face is hot for an entirely different reason. “I’m not, like, obsessed with him or anything creepy like that. I just… He’s cool, I guess?”

Peter glances up at you, brown eyes soft and round. “This is very good,” he compliments. He passes you back the paper and you quickly stuff it into your bag, your heart beating quickly. “I didn’t know you liked art.”

Your eyebrows furrow together as you tilt your head, looking at him, bewildered. “We aren’t really friends, Peter,” you say, your voice not unkind but still confused. “I don’t know much about you either.”

An expression like a dawn of realisation passes over Peter’s face, and he takes a small step back. “Yeah- yeah, of course.” He scratches at the back of his neck, his long, surprisingly muscled arm flexing in the air. “If you’d ever want to hang out, uhhh, let me know?” And he sounds so uncertain that you can’t tell what he’s really asking, and nod along.

“Yeah, of course.” You scribble down your number on a piece of your notebook and pass it to him. “I work in a bakery, if you ever want to drop by,” you offer. Working five hours a night, five days a week, means friendships are hard. You know from experience that the best way for people to see you is for them to drop by.

“Which one?” Peter’s staring at the paper you’ve given him, eyes burning over the number you’d printed for him.

“The Muffin Man. It’s on 53rd and-”

“22nd,” he finishes. “My aunt loves it there,” he adds, blushing a little. “I’ll drop by one day.”

You swallow your surprise and nod your head. “I’m there every evening,” you say. The bell goes, signalling the end of class, and you gather together your things.

“Well.” Peter rocks back on his feet, his forehead creased. You have the feeling he wants to say more, but the moment passes. “I’ll see you around then, Y/N.”

You smile slowly. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Have a good day, Peter.”

And you walk out of the lab, a slightly light spring to your step. In an odd way that you can’t quite explain, it felt as though you’re old friends with Peter. 

----------

It’s 9.45pm the following Monday when Spider-Man next bursts through the shop door. So used to this, you don’t look up from rows of numbers that fill the account books, and instead call out a distracted, “Hey!”

But when you hear the crashing of a chair falling over, your head bolts up, and you gasp as you see Spider-Man standing there, wobbling significantly, deep stains of blood clinging to the lighter patches of his suit.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. Quickly grabbing the first aid kit from beneath the counter, you run out onto the shop floor and offer him an arm. “What happened? What can I do? Are you okay?” He sags into your side and you carefully lower him into a soft armchair, your frantic eyes fixed on his arm and the sight of his oozing blood.

“Got hit,” he manages, voice hoarse. You blink slightly, noticing for the first time that his voice sounds a little familiar. “Fuck, I’m- it hurts.” And he sounds so weak that you suddenly feel like crying.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Can I look at it?”

He reaches up and presses a concealed button on the suit, and you watch as the sleeve of his arm loosens and fall to the ground, exposing one of his pale, fleshy arms. The fact that he’s shown you a part of him is quickly overcome by worry as you see the bullet wound.

“It’ll heal by itself,” he says, voice hoarse. “Can you see if the bullet has passed through?” He’s pulled taut with pain, and you feel your heartbeat quicken as you kneel beside him and peer at the wound.

“I think it’s exited,” you say. You gentle move his arm around, examining it carefully. “Yeah,” you add. You see the exit wound. “Can I clean it up and bandage it?”

He jerks his head in a nod, and you get to work. You feel terrible as you wipe at the source of his agony but work as quickly and gently as you can to remove all the dirt and then wrap up the damaged area. Once you’re done, you get to your feet and wring out your hands. “That’s you,” you say. You rub at your eyebrows and feel lines of tension weaving across your forehead. “I’d say go to the hospital, but if you heal by yourself…”

“I’ll be fine.” Spider-Man surprises you by tentatively getting to his feet. “I feel better already.” His voice softens out, and you feel your heart race in your chest as he takes you in his arms. Suddenly you’re hugging him, your cheek pressed against his warm chest with his hands pressing into your back, and an untameable giddiness bubbles up in your chest. “Thank you so much,” he speaks. The outline of his nose nudges gently against your head, and one of his hands slips up your back, fiddling with the tips of your hair.

“It’s, um, it’s okay,” you manage, system running in overdrive. For weeks your crush has been building, but you’ve managed to keep it dormant, telling yourself there’s no way he’d ever like you back. But with the tender way he’s curling the ends of your hair around his fingers, maybe - just maybe - you were being too harsh. Maybe there’s a possibility that something could happen.

“I appreciate you,” he speaks, voice quiet. “There aren’t many places I can go and just...be myself, I guess. I’m glad you let me do that here.”

You peel your head away from him and look up to Spider-Man’s concealed face, his hands pressing into your back as you wrap your hands around his waist.

“Always,” you promise. You wish so desperately that you could see his face.

After a moment, he steps back, the warmth of his touch vanishing. You sag a little.

“What are your favourite kind of flowers?”

You think for a moment. “Forget-me-nots,” you answer. “Why?”

“No reason.” He shifts on his feet. “Now, tell me what cakes you’ve saved for me tonight, yeah?”

----------

Something is up. You haven’t seen Spider-Man for a week, and he’s never disappeared for that long before. You find yourself going a little crazy, thoughts and doubts racing through your head every time it reaches 10pm and you’re left alone to lock up and walk home. Did you scare him off? Was that hug a test, and did you somehow fail it? Did he decide you were no longer interesting enough for him? Is he hurt?

It’s 9.45pm, and you’ve grown so used to silence that when the door swings open with a loud ring of the bell, you jump, clutching at your chest. You look up immediately, expecting to see Spider-Man, but instead seeing… Peter Parker?

You’ve not spoken to him since he saw your drawing in chemistry class, but you have texted a few times. He’s nice, but you had no idea he’d intended on dropping by the bakery, and you can’t help but feel disappointment hollow out your chest as you see him, replacing your normal visitor. But you smile at him none the less, especially when he procures a bunch of blue and white flowers.

“Peter?” You ask, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. He looks nervous yet confident, his soft brown hair arranged neatly on his head, his eyes open and inquisitive. He comes towards you and offers you the bouquet.

“For you, Y/N,” he stammers. His freckled cheeks stand out as his skin fills with a rosy blush. “I, um, hope you like them.”

You take the bunch and marvel at the beauty of the flowers. “No one’s ever given me flowers before,” you breathe out. You stare at him, heart squeezing in your chest. “How did you know I like these? They’re my favourite.”

“Uh…” He seems trapped, and suddenly you’re struck with a thought. The way he’s standing - bashfully, but still strongly - and the slight lilt in his voice when he said your name… It’s awfully familiar.

“What’s going on?” You mutter to yourself. You put the flowers down on the counter and step back, hands going to your temple as your mind spins at a hundred miles an hour.

Both Spider-Man and Peter had told you that their aunt liked your bakery. They both appeared at 9.45pm, just before closing. They both know your favourite flowers. Is it possible..?

“Hey, hey.” Without realising it, you’d walked from behind the counter and are now stood, wobbling, in front of Peter. You feel a little dizzy, your heart beating rapidly as Peter reaches out to you, his hands settling on your shoulders as he peers at you nervously. “Calm down. Your heartbeat is crazy.” And he pulls you to him, but all you can focus on is that fact that he knows your heart is pounding against your rib cage.

“You’re…” You break off as his hands press into your back, the hug feeling familiar. For a moment, you settle, breathing in the clean scents of Peter’s nutty aftershave, but then you pull back, questions replacing your peace. “You’re Spider-Man!”

You stare at him intently, watching as his face cycles through an array of emotions: surprise, reluctance, fear, excitement, relief. He jerks his head in a nod.

“Yeah. I am.”

Your jaw drops. “Peter Parker is Spider-Man,” you whisper to yourself. You look at him, shocked. “Why- how- why would you tell me?” Is what you settle on eventually, completely flabbergasted. “I’m… I’m just a normal person, why would you tell me?” You can’t understand how this secret - so personal, and important, and powerful - has fallen into your lap.

Peter’s lips tweak into a smile. “You’re not just a normal person, Y/N.” You realise your hands are clasped in his and feel your heart bloom with adoration as he squeezes your fingers. “You’re clever, and funny, and kind. You like chemistry, and baking, and speaking to me when I’m Peter or Spider-Man, and you even helped me when I was hurt.” His eyes are wide and pleading. “You are many things, but you are not only normal.”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only person in New York. Peter - shy, smart, witty Peter - is Spider-Man - someone who you’ve admired for years, and grown close to over the past weeks. Spider-Man is here, in front of you, mask off, showing you the most intimate details of his person, bunch of flowers and all.

And it makes you feel truly seen, for possibly the first time in your life.

“Why would you tell me?” You whisper, tilting your head to the side. The air is tender between you, and you become aware of how near you both are.

Instead of speaking the words you feel vibrating between you, Peter slides a hand up onto your cheek, his thin fingers spreading over your skin, tendrils of warmth flowing to your face. His other hand moves to your hair, lacing strands around his fingers as he steps closer, his eyes wide, questioning. You give him a little nod and feel your eyes drift close blissfully as he kisses you, his mouth soft, tender, warm. Happiness spreads through your chest as you push back against him, wrapping your hands around his waist as you kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

Moments later, when you’re both breathless and flushed with satisfaction, he pulls back. His forehead stays pressed against yours, and you gaze into his eyes, feeling a soft warmth flood the depth of your heart.

“I like you so much, Y/N,” he whispers. You can hear the nerves wobble in his voice. “I know I can trust you with this. I wanted you to know.” 

Your lips pull into a wider smile. “I like you too, Peter,” you say. His fingers stroke your hair as his face creases with happiness. “Kiss me again,” you add, feeling a deep burning desire to be near him, hold him, love him.

His smile grows bolder as he nods gently. “Whatever you want, Y/N.”

And in the middle of your tiny bakery, tucked away from the rest of the city, Peter takes you in his arms. Your bodies connect tenderly, gently, completely, as your hearts intertwine. Love blooms in your chest as you feel him all around you, and as the clock strikes 10pm, you know that this is the start of something wonderful.

----------

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

taglist ↠ see this post to be added :D

@behind-my-hazeleyes27​ @stiles-o-dylan24​ @stilinskiswritings @stealth-spiderr​ @youngblood199456​ @stixnstripesworld​ @mischiefandi​ @penguinchick100 @hcomet28​ @aftrrglo​ @scottish-sim​ @cosmicholland​ @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles​ @sweet-baby-cakes​ @apatheticanvas67482​ @oh-whatabeautiful-parker​

#peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tom holland #woohoo #i just love this concept ?? so much #i hope you do too #catch me being soft thinking about hugging spiderman in my cute bakery #my writing #twilightparker writes #yayayayay #self-insert #y/n

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Ocean Eyes - Part 3

A/N - Just a small update, im sorry if its bad but it was written after 2hrs sleep! 😂💕💕

It was finally Friday! I had finished my shift at the coffee shop and collected Mason from preschool. He was telling me all about his day happily chatting away as i drove us home, It was only a ten minute drive from the preschool so we were soon parking up out front.

"So what do you want for dinner tonight bud?" I asked as we walked from the car to the front door.

"Pizza!!"

"Pizza? Really?"

"Pleaseeee mom?"

"Fine!" I chuckled shaking my head at how happy he looked, the boy loved his pizza, and how could i say no to that face!

"Hey neighbours!"

I rolled my eyes and internally cursed at the voice of my next door neighbour Brian. The guy honestly creeped me out, Hannah was convinced he had a thing for me, the thought alone made my stomach turn!

"Hey Brian" i gave him tight lipped smile to be polite but carried on toward the house, i just wanted to get me and Mason inside.

"How are my favourite neighbours?"

"We're fine, thank you"

"So um...Y/N, a few of us are getting together tomorrow for a BBQ.... you and Mason should come"

"Sorry Brian, we have plans with some friends tomorrow" i lied, there was no way in hell i'd accept an invitation from him.

"Oh ok, no problem. Maybe some other time...?"

"I gotta get inside and sort out dinner, Mason's hungry. Have a nice time at your BBQ" i said quickly as i unlocked the door getting Mason inside first, i rushed in behind him huffing out a sigh of relief that i was away from Brian.

Mason was sitting down on the sofa watching a show about space and eating some fruit while i cleaned up a little in the living room and kitchen, i was running late this morning so didn't have time to do it until now. I had decided i'd order the pizza around 5pm being as Mason tended to stay up later on a Friday night. Just as i was finishing up in the kitchen my cell started ringing, i already knew it would be Hannah she called around this time most days.

"Hey"

"Hey, so im thinking we need to go out"

"Okayyyy random" i chuckled wiping down the counter and tossing the dishcloth on the side "why?"

"Because we both need to find a man!

Y/N we deserve some fun!"

"Things with Damien didnt work out i take it?"

"No, his a jackass! Come on please? Next week?? My mom already said she'd watch the boys"

"I don't know Han, you know i don't really date....i definitely don't hook up"

"But maybe you'll meet someone nice who you can get to know and eventually it could lead to something.... you dont have to hook up with anyone. We just need a girls night out, a night where we're just Y/N and Hannah and not mom"

"Can i think about it?"

"Sure! As long as your answer is YES!"

She said loudly making us both laugh.

"Fine! I'll go out if it makes you happy"

"Oh my god we're gonna have so much fun!!"

"I don't know about that! The last time we went out drinking together we were in a bar fight because you made out with some girls boyfriend!"

"Haha good times! How was i to know he had a girlfriend?"

"Your trouble Han" i shook my head thinking back at how wild she was before becoming a mom. We soon said our goodbyes and i went to join Mason on the sofa while i ordered our pizza.

Just as i was about to lock my phone once i was done i noticed the little notification on my messages indicating that i had a new message.

Unknown: Hey Y/N, its Chris.

Can we talk?

Y/N: About what??

Chris: I was hoping maybe we could talk in person....

Y/N: I don't think thats a good idea Chris.

Chris: oh.... well this is kinda awkward.... im outside

Are you fucking kidding me?!!

I said loudly in my head as i got up and went over to the window. There he was sitting in his car parked behind mine on the drive looking down at the phone in his hands, probably waiting for my reply.

"Mace? Im just going out to the car bud i wont be long okay?"

"Uh huh" he replied without even looking away from the TV.

As soon as i opened the front door Chris's car door opened and he got out quickly giving me a nervous smile.

"Thank you for coming to talk to me"

"What are you doing here Chris?" I asked as i looked through the front window making sure i could keep an eye on Mason.

"I wanted to apologise, for how i treated you, how i ended what we had.... i know i was a huge asshole. I just want you to know that im nothing like that guy anymore...."

"Thats great Chris, really. Because that guy was a careless, selfish son of a bitch"

"I know" he nodded sadly "i wish i could go back and make better choices. Take back the things i said to you.... Y/N the biggest regret of my life is that i lost you. You were my best friend.... my wife...." he shook his head "i didn't know what i had until you were gone"

"You couldn't have missed me that much" i scoffed "its taken you almost 6 years to come see me, i haven't heard from you once in all that time"

"I was ashamed of myself"

"Ok" i nodded "well thanks for coming by to clear that up but i have to go..."

"Scott told me" Chris called from behind me as i headed back inside "about Mason" he added, i froze on the spot feeling my heart start to race at hearing those words.

"He what??!" I spun around to face him with wide eyes, i was internally cursing Scott to hell!

He told Chris about Mason???

"He told me he came to see you, found out you have a son...."

"what is it with you two just showing up at my house unannounced and uninvited??"

"I knew if i asked to come see you you'd say no"

"You're right i would. It doesn't change anything just because you know about Mason"

"I know i just...." he shook his head as he searched for the right thing to say.

"You don't need to feel guilty, like you have to be here now you know, we've managed fine without you for this long"

"What?.... what do you mean by that?"

He asked taking a few steps towards me, it was at that moment i realised he didn't know Mason was his son.... shit!

"Y/N.... is Mason my son??" Chris asked as his chest heaved from how heavy he was suddenly breathing as he processed this new information.

"I thought... you... you said Scott told you all about Mason...."

As if on cue the front door opened and Mason appeared holding my ringing cell phone. I heard a gasp escape Chris's mouth as he looked down at Mason, at the little boy who was a spitting image of him.

"Mom your phone keeps ringing" he said holding my cell phone out to me.

"Thank you baby" i quickly looked to see it was my mom calling and sent it to voicemail, i'd call her later.

"You wanna come inside? I guess we need to talk" i said looking back at Chris who was stood with tears in his eyes, he nodded quickly not taking his eyes off of Mason and followed us inside.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading

Ocean eyes: @supraveng @michelehansel @katiew1973 @denisemarieangelina @mrsjeffwittek @mery-be @marvelfansworld @cmalass @capstopavenger @fallenoutofrose @kelbabyblue @biebsmylife95 @loser-alert @traceyaudette @w3lissax (if your name is crossed out it wouldnt let me tag you 😞).

#chris evans #captain america #steve rogers #chris evans x reader #reader insert #steve rodgers x reader #ocean eyes

[calumcest]

fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet

[ao3]

SO i participated in a fic event with a bunch of other very talented writers where we all took a prompt and had to include a phrase in the fic. my prompt was lashton - bad boy so...here is what i managed to come up with 

the masterlist of all the fics for this event can be found here 

this fic would be absolutely nowhere without @calumsclifford and @5sosnsfw i owe them an eternal debt of gratitude for their help with coming up with ideas and listening to me scream about it for days on end because i just could not write it and also to jex for betaing for me i owe you my soul at this point i think 

also i literally said when i started this i was going to struggle to keep it under 10k but honestly what do you expect from me? brevity? absolutely not. on the topic i want it to be known that i finished this fic at exactly 4:58pm and it is due at 5pm will i ever change? no. keep your expectations of me low and we will all do just fine 

-

Luke hates a good ninety-five percent of his job. 

A solid thirty percent of that comes from the fact that he works as a receptionist at a hotel, which he thinks is possibly the most thankless job humanity could possibly have created. A further ten comes from the fact that his desk is right next to the kitchen, meaning mouth-watering smells are constantly wafting under his nose, and Luke’s not allowed to eat on shift. 

Fifty-five percent of it, though, is Ashton.  

Ashton doesn’t work at the hotel, but Luke’s pretty sure he’s there more regularly than half of the staff who do. He’s Calum’s friend, or they live together, or they’re in a gang together, or something, because Calum is how Luke knows Ashton’s name. Ashton will always slouch against Luke’s desk, cigarette tucked behind his ear, and then Calum will come out of the kitchen and Ashton will push himself off the desk and walk out with him. Luke’s never spoken to Calum, but he knows Calum’s boyfriend Michael works as a concierge on night shift, and that Michael doesn’t like Luke’s organising system. Luke doesn’t like Michael’s, and especially doesn’t like that he has to rearrange his entire desk every day when Michael’s shift ends at nine a.m. Neither of them is willing to be the first to give in, although privately Luke thinks that if Michael ever said a word to him about it he’d fold and let Michael have his shitty system and probably, like, Luke’s house, or something. Luke’s not very good at confrontation or standing his ground. 

Here’s the thing, though. Luke kind of likes Ashton. He likes the way Ashton’s black curls fall into his face and he doesn’t seem to care, likes the way his hazel eyes light up when he smiles, likes the way he gesticulates a lot when he talks. Ashton’s hot, and Luke’s lonely, and lusting over hot guys from afar is pretty much how he’s lived his entire life.  

However, Luke doesn’t like people leaning against his desk, which is one thing Ashton does. He also doesn’t like strangers speaking to him outside of a professional capacity, which is another thing Ashton does. He especially doesn’t like when he’s trying to deal with a difficult guest and Ashton takes it upon himself to tell them to go fuck themselves, because then Luke’s job is made ten times harder.  

“I’m so sorry, sir,” he says, hurriedly, as Ashton leans back against the desk, leather jacket rubbing noisily against the wood. 

“Excuse me?” the guest says to Ashton, halfway between incredulous and infuriated. Ashton shrugs. 

“You heard me,” he says coolly. “Go fuck yourself.” 

“Sir, I sincerely apologise,” Luke says, almost begging. “Of course I can refund you for breakfast. Which room number should I process the refund for?” 

“Who are you?” the guest says, and Ashton pushes himself off the desk, drawing himself up to his full height. 

“You wanna know who I am?” he says. His tone might be lazy, his face might be carefully slack, but his hazel eyes are hard, an edge of a threat in the way he cocks his head. 

“I want your name,” the guest blusters. “I want to file a complaint for your behaviour.” Ashton’s lips quirk up in an amused smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’d be happy to introduce you to my boss,” he says, taking another step closer to the guest. The guest takes a small step back, stumbling as he does, and Ashton edges closer, baring his teeth in a grin. “But I can’t promise you’d come back in one piece.” 

“Your room number?” Luke says, trying to diffuse the situation, and it only comes out as half-squeaky, which is pretty good going for him. 

“Uh, actually, it’s okay,” the guest says, words tripping over themselves in their hurry to leave his lips. “Um. Thanks.” With that, he turns on his heel and speedwalks out of the lobby. 

Well. Fuck. 

Ashton watches him leave, then grins, pleased with himself, and turns back to Luke. Luke swallows, feeling himself flush under the heat of Ashton’s gaze. 

“You’re welcome, pretty boy,” Ashton says, when Luke says nothing. Pretty boy. Luke hates when Ashton makes fun of him like that.

“Thanks,” Luke mumbles, even though he absolutely doesn’t mean it. Guests like that never just leave it; his manager will be getting a strongly worded email later, and Luke’s going to get fucking reamed for it. 

“You’re fucking cute when you blush,” Ashton comments casually, sauntering back over to Luke’s desk. Luke doesn’t know what to say to that, never does, so he says nothing, pretending to be completely preoccupied with making a note for James, the guy on evening shift, to process the refund for the guest anyway. He’s not sure why the guy waited until five p.m. to ask for a refund for breakfast, but whatever. James’s problem now, not Luke’s. 

With two minutes left to go on his shift and Ashton’s eyes burning into the back of his head, Luke busies himself with gathering his things together so he won’t have to look at Ashton. He can feel Ashton’s eyes follow him as he gets up and shrugs his coat on, and wishes Calum’s shift would hurry the fuck up and end already. Luke always has to wait an extra couple of minutes for James, who’s always late, and Calum’s usually out of the door at five on the dot. 

Sure enough, as Luke watches the clock on his computer tick over to five, the door to the kitchen bangs open and Calum strides out, face splitting into a grin when he sees Ashton. 

“How’d you get here?” he asks, and Ashton pushes himself off Luke’s desk again to fall into step with Calum.

“Took Michael’s bike,” he hears Ashton say as they walk out. “Mine’s still in the fucking shop.” 

“He’s going to be pissed if you get him another tick-,” Calum says, cut off when they walk out of the lobby. James passes through the door they’d pushed open as it swings shut, and Luke lets out a heavy sigh of relief. 

“Would it kill you to get an earlier train?” he asks James as he pulls his bag off the chair, even though this is early for James. 

“Maybe,” James says. “Haven’t tried it, just in case.” Luke rolls his eyes, shouldering his bag. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says. “I’ve left a couple of notes for you.” James nods, sitting down in the chair and pulling the keyboard towards him. 

“See you,” he says. Luke nods, starting to walk away, when James shouts- “Hey, Luke!” 

“Huh?” Luke spins around to see James holding out a scrap of paper. “What?” 

“You left this,” James says, waving the paper. Luke frowns. 

“No I didn’t,” he says. 

“Well, it says Luke on the front,” James says, arm still outstretched. Luke hesitates for a moment, because he really hasn’t left anything behind - he’d checked meticulously when he’d been packing, anything to avoid Ashton’s gaze - before crossing the room back over to James and taking the paper from his hand. 

“Thanks,” he says. James makes a ‘don’t mention it’ hand movement, eyes already on the computer screen. 

Luke’s eyes flick down to the piece of paper in his hand - it does indeed say ‘Luke’, which kind of surprises him, although he’s not sure what James would have had to gain from lying about that. 

“You’re going to miss your train,” James says, not looking up from the screen, and shit, he is. Luke pockets the note and heads towards the doors of the lobby. 

“Wouldn’t miss it if you would fucking get here on time,” he says, pushing the doors open. 

“Fuck you!” James sing-songs after him, and Luke grins as the cool May air hits his face. 

 -------

 Luke forgets about the note in his pocket until he shoves his hands in his pockets to protect them from the biting wind on his way from the station to his house. He curls his fingers around the paper so he doesn’t forget about it, not wanting to lose it to the wind that’s howling in his ears, only letting go even when he has to unlock the front door.

As soon as he’s safely inside and has kicked his shoes off and chucked his bag down next to the sofa, he pulls the note out of his pocket and unfolds it. 

Golden boy, 

Golden curls, golden smile, golden heart. You burn me with how bright you shine, drown me out with your smile. 

What I wouldn’t give for you to see me. 

- AFI 

Luke stares at it. 

What the fuck? 

This has to be some kind of a joke. AFI? Like the fucking band? Luke doesn’t even listen to them. Or, actually, maybe there’s another Luke this is intended for. Luke does work as a receptionist, after all. Maybe someone dropped it off, wanting him to pass it on to a guest called Luke. It’s a pretty common name, so that’s not out of the bounds of possibility. 

Yeah, Luke thinks, folding the note back up carefully and putting it back in his pocket. He’ll check the list tomorrow morning, and see if there are any Lukes staying at the moment. 

 -------

 Michael’s always gone by the time Luke gets to the desk, even though Luke gets there ten minutes early every day. Luke often wonders how long Michael’s actually at work, whether he just fucks off at eight when things start getting slow after the early morning checkouts have gone. 

The start to the day is usually slow, which is good since Luke always has to reorganise the entire desk from the way Michael’s trashed it (seriously, who puts the returned room keys in alphabetical rather than numerical order?). It takes him until half-past to sort that out, cross-referring the guest database to the keys and hoping some deity takes pity on him and curses Michael to the ninth circle of Hell. By then, a steady stream of people are going in for breakfast, and Luke starts getting his first red-eye check-ins. 

The note completely slips his mind (again) until a lull at half-past three makes him decide to check his phone, which is in his jacket pocket. His fingers brush the paper as he reaches in, and he suddenly jolts, remembering he’d been meaning to look up all the Lukes currently staying at the hotel. 

Phone forgotten, he pulls the database up again, and does a quick search for Luke. Four names flash back at him, and Luke sits back, sort of satisfied, sort of disappointed. Some part of him had kind of hoped there weren’t any Lukes staying, and the note had been intended for him. The last time anyone had said anything nice to Luke was probably, like, a good three years ago. And it was probably his mum. 

He sets a note next to all four Lukes for himself, James and Michael to ask whether they’d been expecting a message when they check out, and then pushes the note from his mind and gets back to work. 

He barely even notices the time pass, so focused on answering emails, until there’s a tapping at his desk. He looks up, a customer-service smile already plastered on his face, only for it to slide off when he sees Ashton. 

“No need to look so happy to see me, pretty boy,” Ashton says, flicking a lighter on and off idly, but his eyes are twinkling. Luke swallows, and turns back to his screen. 

“Good afternoon,” he says politely, typing out a reply to a booking request and steadfastly not looking at Ashton. Ashton leans against Luke’s desk, leather jacket rubbing loudly against the wood, and Luke wishes he had the balls to tell him to stop. 

“I’m not a guest,” Ashton says. “You don’t have to be polite to me.” Yeah, but I’m kind of terrified of you, Luke thinks sourly, as he nods primly. 

“I’m on shift,” he says. “I’m polite to everyone.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ashton’s lips quirk up in a grin. 

“I bet you are,” he says, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and putting it between his lips.

“Um- you can’t do that in here,” Luke says, as Ashton flicks the lighter on again and lights the cigarette. Ashton looks up, arching an eyebrow. 

“Oh?” he says, around the cigarette. “Are you going to stop me, pretty boy?” Luke opens his mouth, and then closes it again, because who the fuck is he kidding? He’s not going to say shit. The fire alarm will speak for him, anyway. 

Ashton smokes in silence for a few minutes, and Luke thanks God that five isn’t a popular checkout time, so he doesn’t have to deal with guests throwing Ashton (and Luke) dirty looks. Five more minutes until Calum comes out, he tells himself. He can make it through five more minutes. 

“Do you smoke?” Ashton asks after four and a half minutes have passed, out of the blue. Luke blinks at him for a moment, realising Ashton’s talking to him. 

“Uh, no,” he says. Ashton cocks his head. 

“Shame,” he says. “Bet your lips would look good around a cigarette.” 

Luke has absolutely no idea how to respond, because he never knows what to say when Ashton mocks him like that, but he’s saved from answering by the door to the kitchen slamming open and Calum walking out, already grinning before he even sees Ashton. 

“Mate, I got a pay rise,” he says, as he and Ashton set off without a backwards glance. 

“Who’d you fuck for that?” Ashton asks, laughing as he dodges a punch to the arm from Calum. Luke just stares at them as they walk away, still bickering about Calum’s pay rise, wondering why Ashton gets such a kick out of making fun of Luke. His thoughts are cut short, however, when the fire alarm suddenly starts blaring. 

“Oh, fuck,” he says, scrambling to his feet and sprinting to the box to press the reset button before guests start piling down the stairs. 

Grace sticks her head out of the kitchen door, frowning. 

“Wasn’t us, I swear,” she says, seeing Luke pressing the reset button like his life depends on it. 

“I know,” Luke says. 

“Why does it smell like smoke in here?” 

“Uh, does it?” Grace’s frown deepens, and then there’s a shout from the kitchen and her head disappears again. The fire alarm finally stops, just as James walks through the door, giving Luke a confused look as he ambles over. 

“They burn toast again?” he asks, because none of them are ever going to let the kitchen live that one down. Luke shakes his head, and James wrinkles his nose. “Hey, why’s it smell like smoke out here?” 

“Don’t know,” Luke says as he shrugs his coat on, hoping there’s no ash on the carpet, or anything. “I’ve got to go, I’m going to miss my train. See you tomorrow.” 

“Hey,” James says, holding out another piece of paper. “Stop leaving shit behind.” 

“That’s not mine,” Luke says. James frowns at it, and then at Luke. 

“Says your name on it. 

“Yeah, I think it’s for a guest,” Luke says. “I made a note in the system. There’s four Lukes here right now.” James’s brow remains furrowed. 

“No, I think it’s for you,” he says. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” Luke says. 

“Take it.” 

“I have to go.” 

“Well, take it with you.” Luke rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t have time to argue with James anymore because he really is going to miss his train, so he just snatches the note out of James’s hand and makes a mental note to bring it back tomorrow. 

“Don’t miss your train,” James calls, as Luke speedwalks towards the door. Luke just flips him off over his shoulder, hunching into himself as the cold May wind wraps itself around him. 

 -------

 This time, Luke reads the note on the train. 

Golden boy, 

I try not to look at you, as if you were the sun, but I see you, like the sun, even without looking.

Let me bask in your sunlight. 

- AFI. 

Luke frowns. 

He knows those words. That’s Anna Karenina, with the pronouns changed. Someone’s quoting Tolstoy to whoever this mystery Luke is that these notes are intended for, and Luke’s kind of a little bit envious. He wants someone to write him romantic, literary love notes. 

Whatever, he thinks, shoving the note back into his pocket with a little more force than strictly necessary. He hopes whichever Luke gets these notes appreciates them, and the effort Luke’s putting into getting them to him. 

 -------

 There’s a note in the system when Luke gets to work the next day. 

not luke evans - michael 

Okay, Luke thinks, clicking on the three remaining Lukes still checked into the hotel. Their checkout dates are all in the next couple of days, so Luke still has time to get the notes to whichever one it is. He’s put both scraps of paper in a corner of the desk, folded carefully so the name is clearly visible, lest James or Michael forget about them.  

He clicks off the Luke Evans note, and another note pops up. 

stop fucking with the room keys - michael

Luke’s kind of outraged at that. There’s literally nothing that makes any less sense than organising the room keys alphabetically rather than numerically. It takes more time to do anyway, because it means cross-referencing the key number to the guest database. He’s not sure whether Michael’s joking or just a masochist, but either way, Luke’s not having it. 

Stop putting them in fucking alphabetical order then. - Luke 

He presses enter before he has the time to second-guess it, because this is a topic that’s close to his heart, and if Michael actually fucking listens it’ll save Luke half an hour every day. He quashes the instant flare of fear that forces its way up his throat the minute he’s made the note, because he’s a little bit terrified of Michael, and clicks onto his emails, ready to make a dent in his already-full inbox. 

It’s a Friday, which is one of the busiest days at the hotel, so Luke’s checking people in and out for most of the day. His cheeks hurt from politely smiling by the time it starts to slow around four-thirty, and he has to stop himself from sighing when a shadow appears over him twenty-five minutes later. He’d hoped that was it for guests for today.  

When he looks up, though, he’s confronted with Ashton, leaning against his desk with a grin on his face. He’s not sure whether that’s better or worse than another guest. 

“Afternoon, pretty boy,” Ashton says. He’s got his usual leather jacket on, and his hair is all fucking windswept, and Luke doesn’t think he should be this attracted to someone he doesn’t know and is a little afraid of, but whatever. 

“Afternoon,” Luke says politely, averting his gaze and hoping Ashton doesn’t see the slight blush creeping up his cheeks. Ashton’s gaze flicks over to the pile of room keys Luke’s still got to wipe.

“Busy day, huh?” he says, indicating to the room keys with a tilt of his head. Luke just nods, and keeps typing. “Y’know, I sometimes wonder if I should quit the day job and become a receptionist.” 

“Oh,” Luke says, because what the fuck else can he say? 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Probably wouldn’t be nearly as much fun, though.” Luke purses his lips. He’s not sure whether Ashton’s trying to shit on Luke’s job, big up his own job, or get Luke to employ him. Luke’s not in charge of hiring, anyway, and if Ashton’s hoping he’ll put in a good word, he’s got another fucking thing coming. 

“Right,” he says eventually, when it becomes clear Ashton’s waiting for some kind of response. He kind of wants to know what Ashton does for a living, given that he seems to have the time to hang around waiting for his friends during normal working hours, but he’s far too shy to ask. Plus, what if the answer’s, like, assassin, or something? 

He doesn’t end up needing to ask, though, because Ashton supplies the answer for him. 

“I work at a bar,” he says, flashing Luke a grin. “Barback.” 

“Not bartender?” Luke asks in surprise, before he can stop himself, because Ashton doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be content to not be the centre of attention. Ashton laughs, and Luke’s stomach flips at the sound. He’s not really sure why it makes something warm fizz through his veins, why it makes him want to make Ashton laugh again. 

“Not trained,” he says. “I’m just working off a debt.” And, okay. Luke’s not really sure he wants to know what said debt is. No debt that needs to be paid off by barbacking sounds like one Luke needs to hear about.  

“Right,” he says again, hoping he doesn’t sound as flustered as he feels. 

“You should come by sometime, pretty boy,” Ashton says casually. “Bar’s on King Street.” 

“Oh,” Luke says. “Thanks. Yeah. Maybe.” Jesus Christ. His job is talking to people - why the fuck is he suddenly so bad at it when it’s a hot (and mildly terrifying) guy?  

“You can drink on the house,” Ashton says, eyes twinkling, “as long as you give me your number afterwards.” Luke feels his mouth drop open slightly, stuttering as his mind tries to both process what Ashton’s said and string together some syllables in response, but then the door to the kitchen slams open and Calum stalks out, looking furious. Luke jumps at the sound and shrinks into himself a little at the irate look on Calum’s face, but Ashton just looks over his shoulder lazily. 

“Afternoon,” he says idly, falling into step with Calum, who doesn’t even pause.  

“You come on Michael’s bike again?” Calum says, and Ashton nods. “Good. Fucking crash it on the way ba-” The door swings shut behind them, cutting him off, and Luke stares at where they’d been standing two seconds ago in surprise. What the fuck could Michael have done that was so bad Calum wanted Ashton to crash his bike?  

Luke shakes himself out of it and starts shoving his things haphazardly in his bag, because he’d been too distracted by Ashton to remember to pack, and as he’s wrapping his scarf around his neck, James ambles through the door. 

“Fucking cold out,” is how he greets Luke, from underneath his scarf. Luke indicates to his own.  

“It’s May, mate,” he says. James rolls his eyes, pink-cheeked from the wind, and tugs his scarf off as he walks behind the desk.  

“See you tomorrow,” Luke says, heading for the door. 

“Stop leaving your fucking notes behind,” James says, before Luke’s even got halfway there, and Luke rolls his eyes before spinning on his heel to face James. 

“They’re not for me,” he says. 

“They are,” James says, holding the note out. “Why else would whoever’s leaving them leave them here?” 

“Because they don’t know the room number of the Luke they want?” Luke suggests. James rolls his eyes. 

“They could ask.”

“Maybe they want to remain anonymous.” 

“They’d be anonymous to this hypothetical Luke, anyway, because they’re dropping it off at the reception,” James points out. 

“Well, I-” 

“Take the fucking note, Luke.” Luke scowls, but James isn’t going to let this go, and Luke doesn’t have the time to argue or he’s going to miss his train, so he just rolls his eyes and snatches the note from James’s outstretched hand. 

“Hope you make it,” James calls behind him as he starts to jog towards the door, and Luke just flips him off without looking back. 

-------

 Golden boy, 

Your lips are on my mind day and night, night and day. I wonder just how many other hearts they’ve sent racing. 

You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how. 

- AFI.

Luke frowns at it. Huh. Gone With The Wind. Whoever this AFI person is knows their literature, and Luke’s trying his best not to be impressed by it. 

Whatever, he thinks, shoving the note back into his pocket and trying not to be too sullen about the fact that some Luke out there is getting romantic, literary notes written for him. He’ll put it with the others on the desk on Monday. 

 -------

 Luke’s weekend is spent watching movies and eating junk food, with a little feeling sorry for himself sprinkled into the mix, so he’s feeling pretty well-rested by the time he gets into work on Monday morning. He steps through the door at ten to nine, shakes out his umbrella before slotting it neatly into the umbrella stand, and heads over to the desk that Michael has already vacated, as usual.  

There are two notes in the system for him when he fires it up. 

not luke johnson - michael 

alphabetical order makes it so much easier to sort through fuck you - michael 

Luke scowls at the screen, tapping out a reply before he can think better of it. 

How does it make it easier to sort through?! You have to cross-refer everything to the database!! - Luke 

He clicks off the notes, mentally crossing out a second of the four Lukes, which reminds him to set the third note on top of the other two in the corner of the desk for James and Michael to see. 

Besides Fridays, Mondays are the busiest days for check-ins and checkouts, so Luke’s face is already aching from the polite smile plastered on his face by ten past two. He’s idly rubbing at his cheeks when the door to the lobby swings open, and Ashton comes striding in, looking somewhere between furious and concerned. Luke starts in surprise, checking the time to be sure he’s not, like, missed two hours of the day somehow - nope, definitely ten past two - but Ashton doesn’t even stop at Luke’s desk, doesn’t even spare him a glance as he heads for the door to the kitchen. 

“Um- you can’t go in the-” Luke starts, but he’s cut off by the door to the kitchen banging shut behind Ashton. Luke stares at it, and then sighs. Whatever, he tried. 

He turns back to his screen, expecting to hear Calum and Ashton striding out of the door any minute, laughing and joking and nudging each other, but the door stays shut. Instead, after Luke’s read the email in front of him at least three times, mind elsewhere, he hears raised voices shouting in the kitchen, although he can’t make out what they’re saying. 

He clears his throat, and reads the email again. This isn’t any of his business, he tells himself, trying to focus on just what week Ms Barnet wants to book seven rooms. Ashton’s perfectly capable of looking after himself. 

(He vaguely registers that maybe he shouldn’t be more worried about a stranger than about his colleagues, but whatever.) 

The voices get louder and louder, still muffled by the kitchen door, and Luke strains his ears to try and hear what’s being said (he’s pretty sure he can make out a bunch of fucks). After a good two minutes, the door slams open again, making Luke jump, and Ashton walks out, Calum leaning into him, an arm slung over Ashton’s shoulders. 

“...can fucking look after myself,” Calum’s saying irately, as Ashton strides towards the door, Calum limping at his side. Ashton’s got his arm around Calum’s waist, clearly supporting his entire body, and Luke tries his best not to think about how strong Ashton must be to do that. 

“Look after yourself? You fucking fainted, Calum, and they let you keep working!” Ashton says furiously. 

“I’m fine, Ashton, I told you, I’m fucking fine,” Calum spits, and Ashton growls, like, literally growls. Luke swallows, hard. 

“Oh, sorry, Doctor Hood, want to show me the medical degree you’ve got to back up that opinion?” Ashton says sarcastically. 

“Fuck you, Ashton, seriousl-” the door swings shut behind them and cuts off their conversation, leaving Luke staring at where they’d been standing half in surprise, half in arousal. 

Okay, so he might have just discovered he has a bit of a thing for protective men. Or, maybe he’s just discovered he’s got a bit of a thing for Ashton. Which, frankly, isn’t much of a discovery, more of a confirmation. 

He shakes his head, trying to erase all the images this has conjured in his mind, and resolves to look into getting laid as soon as possible.

 -------

 Luke scours his desk before he leaves on Monday, but there’s no note. He finds himself a little disappointed for a moment, because it’s kind of nice to be able to kid himself that the notes are for him for a minute or two, before James finally arrives and he’s able to push it out of his mind in favour of shouting at James for being a whole ten minutes late. 

On Tuesday, Luke finds himself tensing up around ten to five, but Ashton never comes and Calum never leaves. There’s no note on Tuesday either, and Luke wonders whether maybe the fact that the mystery note-leaver isn’t getting any responses from the mystery Luke has disheartened them, and immediately feels guilty that he hasn’t tried hard enough to get the notes to the right Luke. The thought is forced out of his mind, however, when James arrives (half an hour late) announcing that the trains are all cancelled because of some signal failures and he’d had to carpool to work, so Luke needs to, like, call an Uber, or something. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Luke says, because he really can’t afford an Uber all the way home. 

“I know,” James tells him, sitting down in the chair heavily. “At least you’re not the one who’s going to be dealing with pissed off guests.” Luke has to concede there. 

Luke goes to the station anyway, in the vain hope that the Sydney Trains will actually fulfil their single function as a transport service, and is informed by an overwhelmed-looking station guard that it’ll probably be another three hours before they’ve sorted out the problem and got all the trains moving again. 

Great, Luke thinks, as he walks out of the station and into the cold mid-May air. Where the fuck is he supposed to spend the next three hours? 

He wanders around aimlessly for a while, sits down on a bench in Hyde Park for about ten minutes before the wind starts threatening to take his nose from him, wanders around some more, and then, because the universe wants Luke to lose the will to live entirely, it starts to rain. 

Great. 

Luke ducks into the nearest building - a bar, he can make that work - and shakes the water out of his hair, chancing a glance at the bar itself. Seven isn’t too early to order himself a shot, right? 

He stops short, however, when he sees who’s behind the bar. 

Ashton. 

He’s about to turn on his heel and walk out - he’s dripping wet, in a terrible mood, and Ashton’s terrifying on the best of days - but it’s too late. Ashton’s already spotted him, face splitting into a grin, beckoning him over to the bar. Fucking hell. 

Luke edges over hesitantly, trying to surreptitiously arrange the curls around his face - fucking rain, honestly - giving Ashton a hesitant smile as he gets to the bar. 

“Didn’t think you’d come, pretty boy,” Ashton says, still smiling, as Luke reluctantly sits down on the bar stool opposite him.

“Um,” Luke says, glad that the bar is poorly lit so Ashton won’t see the blush creeping up his cheeks. “It’s raining.” That doesn’t dim Ashton’s brilliant smile at all, though.

“I remember saying you could drink on the house,” he says, eyes twinkling.  

“Conditionally,” Luke says, without thinking. Ashton looks at him for a moment, and then laughs. Luke’s stomach flips, heat pooling low in his abdomen - Jesus, someone as hot as Ashton shouldn’t be allowed such a cute laugh.  

“Is giving me your number such a burden?” he says, grinning. Luke flushes, and looks away. He doesn’t get why Ashton gets such a kick out of making fun of Luke like this. He’d thought he’d left the days of people pretending to be into him for fun behind in high school. 

Ashton seems to sense Luke’s trepidation, and leans back from the bar. 

“Relax, pretty boy,” he says. “I don’t bite.” Luke can’t help the sceptical look he sends Ashton’s way, and it’s met with a dimpled grin. “Okay, I do, but you’ve gotta pay for the privilege.”  

“I don’t have any money,” Luke says, because it’s true. That’s the whole reason he’s here in the first place; he can’t afford the fifty dollars it’d cost him to Uber home. 

“Well, lucky for you, I’m in a generous mood,” Ashton says, leaning against the cupboard behind him. “What’ll it be?” Luke hesitates. On the one hand, he really doesn’t have any money, and if Ashton reneges on his offer, Luke’s kind of fucked. On the other hand, he’s had a shitty day, he’s still got an hour until the signal failure might be fixed, and he wants a fucking shot.  

“Tequila chilled, please,” he says eventually. “But I thought you weren’t a bartender.” Ashton’s lips quirk up in a grin, as he reaches for the tequila and a glass. 

“I’m not,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “But what are you going to do, tell on me?” His tone is both amused and challenging, and Luke swallows. They both know Luke’s not going to do shit. 

“That’s not chilled,” is all he says weakly, when Ashton pours the tequila straight into the glass. Ashton laughs, and pushes the glass towards Luke. 

“Try it,” he says. Luke stares at it, wrinkling his nose, and Ashton grins. “C’mon, I’m not trying to poison you. You’re far too pretty for that.” Luke bites his lip, but picks up the glass and glances at the clear liquid in it warily. He doesn’t even know Ashton, he thinks. This might be, like, straight hydrochloric acid, and Luke would be none the wiser until his oesophagus disintegrated. 

Despite his better judgement, though, and largely due to the heat of Ashton’s gaze, Luke raises the glass to his lips and tips the tequila down his throat, wincing as it burns down his throat. It’s warm, and it really does burn, but it burns in a good way, kind of peppery in his mouth, and Luke finds he doesn’t actually mind the aftertaste. 

“Huh,” he says, as he sets the glass back down, staring at it in surprise. 

“Told you,” Ashton says smugly. “Want another one?” Luke hesitates, and Ashton rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “On the house, pretty boy. You look like you could do with one.” Luke nods, and Ashton pulls the glass back towards him and pours him another shot. Luke watches him pour, trying not to think about the way his fingers are curled around the neck of the tequila bottle. He blames it on the alcohol making its way through his veins, ignoring the fact that it’s far too soon for it to have had an impact.  

Ashton pushes the glass towards Luke, who takes it and downs it without a second thought. Ashton laughs again when he sets the glass back down on the bar, eyes crinkled at the corners. 

“Rough day, huh?” he says. Luke, fingertips tingling, cheeks a little warm, nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Guess that’s what happens when I don’t show up for a day,” Ashton says, eyes glittering, and there’s something behind the humour on the surface that Luke can’t quite put his finger on. 

“Is Calum okay?” Luke asks, without thinking. Ashton looks at him for a moment, surprised, and then nods. 

“Took him to hospital,” he says. “Doctor said he should rest for a few days, but he’d be fine. He’s kind of pissed about it.” Luke can’t help the snort that escapes him, and Ashton’s lips curl up in a smile. 

“He sounded pretty pissed at you,” Luke says, as Ashton pulls the glass back towards him and pours Luke another shot. Jesus. Luke’s not even going to make it on the train at this rate. 

“He was,” Ashton says nonchalantly. “But Michael would have been more pissed if I hadn’t picked Cal up from work, and I’d take Calum’s wrath over Michael’s any day.” Luke wrinkles his nose. 

“Michael has a terrible organising system,” he says, swirling the tequila around in the glass. 

“He says the same about you,” Ashton says, which makes Luke start in surprise. 

“He knows who I am?” Ashton gives him a funny look. 

“Of course he knows who you are,” he says. “You’re day shift.” 

“Oh,” Luke says. “Day shift. Yeah. That’s me.” 

They lapse into silence for a while, Ashton gazing at Luke like he’s trying to work something out, Luke staring through the bottom of the glass and wondering whether he really should take this shot or not. 

“Are you afraid of me?” Ashton asks, eventually. His tone is even, and his face is calm, but Luke sees the tension in his posture, the hardness in his eyes. 

(Luke takes the shot.)

“Uh,” he says, when he sets the glass back down on the bar. “I’m afraid of everyone.” It’s not technically a lie, and Ashton considers it for a moment before shrugging. 

“I’m not trying to trick you, pretty boy,” he says, and he’s aiming for casual but Luke hears the seriousness beneath it. 

“I didn’t say you were,” Luke says, now definitely a little buzzed. Ashton cocks his head and narrows his eyes, gazing at Luke.  

“You don’t trust me,” he says after a moment. Luke shrugs uncomfortably. 

“I don’t know you,” he says. Ashton scrutinises him for another moment, and Luke desperately wishes he had something that wasn’t Ashton or his hands to stare at, before Ashton grins. 

“Let’s change that,” he says. 

“Huh?”

“Ask me anything you want to know,” Ashton says, putting his elbows on the bar and leaning forward. His hazel eyes glint in the dim light of the bar, and Luke parts his lips to respond, but finds himself too caught in the brown-gold-green. 

“Uh,” he says intelligently, shaking himself out of it when he remembers that hello, staring at hot and intimidating guys is kind of a bad idea. “What?” 

“C’mon,” Ashton says, eyes sparkling with amusement. “There’s got to be things you want to know about me.”  

“What’s the catch?” Ashton laughs, tipping his head back, and God, Luke wants to mark up that throat. Jesus. He makes a mental note for the future that tequila at seven p.m. is a no-go. 

“You really don’t trust me, huh?” Ashton says, grinning. “Well, I was just going to let you ask, but...how about I get to ask questions in return? Quid pro quo.” Luke swallows. 

“Okay,” he says, because what’s he got to lose? 

“But you have to be honest,” Ashton says seriously, and Luke nods. He’s a shitty liar, anyway. “Alright. You first.” Luke’s eyes widen, and Ashton looks at him expectantly.

“Uh. What- what’s your favourite colour?” he asks stupidly. 

“Seriously?” Luke shrugs, averting his gaze to the glass still sat between the two of them. “Okay. Green. Why don’t you ever speak to me when I’m at the hotel?” 

“I’m on shift,” Luke says automatically. “What’s your favourite food?” 

“Carbonara. Do I bother you?” Luke hesitates. He’s tipsy enough that he can’t lie, but still sober enough that he doesn’t want to potentially aggravate Ashton by being too honest. 

“Yes and no,” he says after a moment’s consideration. “When’s your birthday?” 

“Sixteenth of July,” Ashton says. “What do you mean, yes and no?”  

“Yes, because I’m trying to work and you’re really fucking distracting, no, because you’re-” Luke coughs, feeling himself flush. “Uh. Do you have any siblings?” 

“A brother and sister,” Ashton says. “Because I’m what?” Luke swallows. 

“Give me another shot,” he says, and Ashton laughs.  

“I think you’ve had enough,” he says, grinning. “You still need to get home in one piece, pretty boy.” Which, shit, what time is it? Luke pulls his phone out of his pocket - fuck, ten to eight, the trains might be back up and running by now - and pushes himself off the bar stool. 

“I’ve got to go,” he says, steadying himself against the bar as his vision spins from standing up too fast. “Uh. Thank you? For the drinks.” 

“Hang on,” Ashton says, catching Luke’s arm as he turns away. Luke’s skin burns red hot under Ashton’s warm, calloused fingers, and he tries not to let it make him even giddier. “You owe me a number.” 

“I don’t know my number,” Luke says, and Ashton frowns.  

“Hey,” he says, sounding a little concerned. “You can say no.” 

“I’m not saying no,” Luke says. “I’m saying I don’t know my number.” Ashton blinks at him for a moment, and then drops his arm. 

“You’d say no if you meant no?” he says, like he’s not quite sure he believes Luke. Luke nods. 

“That’s why I’m not saying no,” he tells Ashton, and then his stomach lurches, because fuck, that might have been a bit too forward for Luke, even in his mildly inebrieted state. “Uh. I really do have to go. Thanks.” Ashton nods, leaning back against the cupboard behind him and folding his arms. Luke closes his eyes so he won’t have to stare at Ashton’s biceps. 

“See you around, pretty boy,” Ashton calls, as Luke turns on his heel and heads for the door as fast as he can without looking suspicious.  

The cool May wind crashes over him when he stumbles outside, and Luke gulps in the crisp air like a drowning man. 

Jesus Christ, he thinks, tipping his head back and letting his eyes flutter shut. Hopefully Calum has to stay home for a long enough time that Luke can legally change his name and move to Perth, or something. 

 -------

 On Wednesday, Luke checks a tired-looking Luke Newham out. 

“Thank you very much, sir,” he says politely, when Luke Newham hands his room key over. “Oh, by the way - we had a number of notes arrive for a Luke in the hotel. Were you expecting anything?” Luke Newham looks surprised.  

“No,” he says. “Definitely not for me.” Luke frowns, and nods, and mentally strikes Luke Newham off the list. 

Well. It’s got to be Luke Byrne then. 

On Thursday, Luke arrives to find a note in the system from James on Luke Byrne’s guest data.  

Told you they were for you. - James 

Luke frowns, and reaches for the three notes folded carefully in the corner of the desk. 

Golden boy. Surely that’s not Luke? Okay, he thinks, looking at the first note - golden curls, yeah, he’s got blonde hair, but besides that? Golden smile, golden heart? If whoever is leaving these notes thinks Luke’s customer-service smile is golden, he’s going to have to recommend a lobotomy. And, he thinks, shuffling to the second and third notes, nobody could think he shone like the sun, nor have their hearts sent racing by his lips. Luke just isn’t that person for anyone, never has been.  

He spends the whole day puzzling about it, so consumed in trying to make sense of the situation that he doesn’t even realise how fast the time is going until the door swings open at ten to five, Ashton already grinning as he walks over to Luke’s desk. 

Oh, fuck. 

Luke hasn’t seen Ashton since the night at the bar, and he’s been trying his best to keep Ashton out of his mind, too. He’d nigh-on had a panic attack when he’d thought back to their conversation in the shower the next morning, so he’s counting the repression as being for health and safety reasons, which is definitely permissible. 

However, he can’t avoid Ashton at work. 

“You look happy to see me, pretty boy,” Ashton remarks, leaning against Luke’s desk, that one fucking curl falling in his eyes, and Luke forces the trepidation off his face. 

“Long day,” Luke says.  

“Need another pick-me-up?” Ashton asks, lips quirking up in a grin. Luke wills his blood to remain where it is and not rush to his cheeks, and averts his gaze back to his screen. 

“No,” he says, and then thinks it might have come out a bit curt, and adds, “thank you.” 

“Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind,” Ashton says. Luke nods tightly, and taps out a response to an email. 

“Michael says someone’s been receiving mystery notes,” Ashton says after a moment, far too casually. Luke’s eyes snap to him, and narrow.  

“What?” he says. Ashton shrugs. 

“Says someone’s been leaving notes for a Luke, and you’re trying to find who it is,” he says. Luke hesitates, then nods. 

“Well, they’re for a Luke, but I’ve checked with every Luke that was staying here when they came,” he says. “So. I’m going to check whether there are any Lukes due to arrive soon.” 

“You ever stop to consider it might be you?” Ashton asks, amused. 

“Well,” Luke says. “I mean. No? Like, I’ve thought about it, but- I’m not, y’know. That kind of person. I mean. Nobody, like.” He shrugs uncomfortably, wishing he’d never opened his mouth in the first place. 

“Nobody what?” Luke sighs. 

“Nobody would do that for me,” he says, all in a rush. Ashton raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh?” he says. “Says who, pretty boy?” Luke opens his mouth - to say what, he’s not quite sure - but they’re interrupted by the kitchen door banging open, Calum striding out, beaming. 

“I’m going to do it,” he says to Ashton. 

“Good,” Ashton says, pushing himself off Luke’s desk. “Only taken you a decade.” 

“Are you fucking mad, as if he would have said yes when we were sixte-” 

“See you tomorrow, pretty boy,” Ashton calls, and Luke starts in surprise. Ashton never says goodbye, forgets all about him as soon as Calum comes out. 

“Uh,” Luke stammers, “bye?” Ashton throws him another amused glance over his shoulder, and falls in step with Calum, who’s saying something about how he had to wait for the right time, okay, sixteen is way too young, even if he already knew back then. 

Luke stares after them for so long after the door has closed that his eyes start to water. 

Ashton doesn’t say goodbye to Luke. It’s one of the universal laws of, like, life, or something. The sky is blue, the Earth is round, and Ashton doesn’t say goodbye to Luke. Luke’s honestly not sure what to make of it - does Ashton think they’re, like, friends now, or something? Is he just trying to unnerve him? Yeah, it’s probably that, he thinks. Ashton clearly gets a kick out of making Luke flustered, and throwing him a curveball like that is a surefire way to do it.  

When Luke finally tears his gaze away from the door and back at the desk, he notices another scrap of paper to the left of his computer screen. He reaches for it, frowning at the Luke on the front, and opens it. 

Golden boy, 

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. 

- AFI. 

Hamlet. AFI is quoting Hamlet. Not just that - he’s quoting a lesser-known part of Hamlet, which means he’s either googling ‘romantic quotes to put in anonymous love notes’ or he’s well-read. Luke decides to choose it’s the latter, because the idea of that makes his heart skip several beats.

Although, to be fair, that might just be him jumping in shock when James slams his bag down on the desk. 

“Got your daily note?” James asks, seeing the piece of paper in Luke’s hand. Luke flushes, and folds it back up. 

“It’s not mine,” he protests weakly, getting to his feet, and James rolls his eyes. 

“We checked every Luke in the system,” he says. “Who the fuck else is it going to be?” 

“Maybe it’s for a Lucas,” Luke suggests. “Maybe Luke is a nickname.” James pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“You’re fucking impossible,” he says, holding his hand out. “Let’s see it.” Luke hesitates, and then drops it in James’s hand and busies himself with getting his things together so he won’t have to see the look on James’s face as he reads. 

“Put it on top of the pile,” Luke says, his back to James as he shrugs his coat on. 

“Luke,” James says, like Luke’s the stupidest person alive. Luke resents that. “This is about you. This is about you doubting the notes are for you.” 

“It’s not,” Luke says. 

“You’re doubting a note written about how you shouldn’t doubt the notes?” James says, eyebrows raised. Luke scowls into his bag. 

“Fine,” he says, turning around to face James. “And what if they’re for me?”

“Then we find out who’s leaving them,” James says, swinging himself into the chair and spinning around. 

“How?” James shrugs. 

“You’re going to miss your train,” is all he says. Luke scowls, and flips him off. 

“Get an earlier fucking train,” he calls, as he jogs towards the door, because shit, he really is going to miss his train. 

“No can do,” James shouts after him, and Luke flips him off again, almost shutting his finger in the door as it closes behind him. 

 -------

 Luke can’t sleep. 

He’s been lying in bed for two hours, tossing and turning, but he can’t get the notes out of his mind. 

What if they are for him? Luke’s barely even stopped to consider the idea - no, he’s actively stopped himself from considering the idea, because there was no way they were for him, and it would have been stupid for him to build up that kind of hope only for it to come crashing down. 

But now that they’ve checked every Luke in the system, he has to toy with the idea that maybe, just maybe they are for him. Sure, they could be for a Lucas, or for a Luke that’s still to arrive, but the rational part of his mind tells him that the likelihood of that is incredibly low. Logically, he knows he’s looking for other explanations because the idea that they could be for him just doesn’t compute. Luke’s not someone who gets romantic notes. Luke’s not someone who gets romance full stop - the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for him is pay for his cab home from their place. 

(He still thinks about Nick fondly.) 

And if they are for him, that opens up a whole new can of worms. Luke’s barely even given any thought to who AFI might be, because he’s been telling himself the notes aren’t for him. But now that he’s starting to entertain that notion, that question is crowding into every corner of his mind. 

Is it a reference to the band? Is it some kind of cryptic musical reference that Luke’s somehow supposed to understand? Or maybe it’s someone’s initials? AFI are pretty unusual initials, he thinks. He doesn’t think he knows anyone with a name starting with F, or a surname starting with I. Maybe it’s double-barrelled? 

He sighs, and rolls over onto his side, trying to put all thoughts of the mysterious author of the notes out of his mind. There’s nothing he can do about it now, and running in circles in his head clearly isn’t helping. He’ll just have to pay better attention tomorrow, see who’s dropping pieces of paper on his desk. 

You know, a little voice in his mind tells him as he’s on the verge of falling asleep. Ashton starts with an A. 

Luke pushes the thought away and allows sleep to envelop him. 

 -------

 On Friday morning, Luke pushes the door to the lobby open, yawning from his lack of sleep, and stops short. 

Michael’s there. 

He’s standing by the desk, hands on his hips, looking distinctly irritated. 

“Oh,” Luke says, completely bewildered. Michael’s never there. 

“I’m specifically supposed to give you this,” Michael says, thrusting a hand out. As Luke edges closer, he sees a piece of paper in it, the same scratchy handwriting spelling out his name on the front. 

“From who?” he asks. 

“Can’t tell you,” Michael says shortly, dropping the note in Luke’s hands and hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “I’ve left the keys in alphabetical order, and if you fucking mess them up again, I’m going to have Calum commit a fairly serious crime against you.” Luke clenches his teeth, watching Michael as he saunters out of the room without waiting for a response from Luke (not that he would have got one anyway), only dropping his gaze to the note in his hand when the door closes behind Michael. 

Okay, he thinks, unfolding the note, and trying to ignore the way his heart is racing and his fingers are fumbling with the paper. So the notes are for him. 

Golden boy, 

Maybe I’ve been too subtle with these. Maybe you needed the pomp and blare, and not the old friend through quiet ways, the seeming prose. 

- AFI. 

Luke frowns at it, sitting down in his chair and pulling up a browser on the computer. He’s not really sure whether these are AFI’s own words, or whether it’s a quote from something he hasn’t read before. However, a quick Google informs him it’s a (very butchered) line from Anne of Avonlea, which immediately makes Luke’s heart jump a little, because who outside of bookworms reads any further than Anne of Green Gables? Jesus, Luke’s already a little in love with AFI, and for all he knows it could be James playing a prank on him. 

And, like, okay. The notes are for him, and it makes Luke’s palms sweat a little just to think about. AFI thinks he’s a golden boy. AFI thinks he’s worth sending romantic literary notes to, and wants him to know they’re for him. 

And, more importantly, Michael knows who AFI is. 

Luke stews on that all day, thoughts stumbling over each other in their haste to get to the forefront of his mind. Why wouldn’t Michael tell Luke who it is? Why is AFI so keen to remain anonymous? Are they embarrassed to like Luke? Actually, that would explain a lot, and Luke can’t really fault them for it. He’s not exactly anyone to show off to friends and family. 

He’s so preoccupied that by four-fifty he’s only about two-thirds through the emails he should have answered, but as soon as he feels the familiar presence of Ashton looming over his desk, he knows he’s not going to get anything more done. He sighs, leaning back, and looks up at Ashton, who’s grinning at him. 

“Afternoon, pretty boy,” he says, looking particularly pleased with himself for some reason. Luke decides not to ask. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“You look pensive,” Ashton remarks. Luke shrugs, a little uncomfortably. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? Yeah, you wouldn’t happen to know who dropped a note off for Michael to give to me this morning, would you? Cheers, mate. By the way, I’ve wanted to fuck you for, like, six months, and your presence is getting a bit unbearable, so would you do me a favour and not show up again until I’m out of this dry spell? 

“Uh,” he settles for. Close enough. 

“Heard you met Michael this morning,” Ashton comments, examining his fingernails. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, even though he’s met Michael before. “He’s, uh.” Bitchy? Luke’s not sure insulting Ashton’s friends is the best idea he’s ever had, so he says nothing. Ashton seems to get it, though, and just laughs. 

“Yeah, he’s like that,” he says. “But he’s lovely when you get to know him.” 

“Right,” Luke says doubtfully. Ashton just grins, and reaches for the cigarette behind his ear. 

“Uh,” Luke says. “You can’t smoke in here.” 

“Oh?” Ashton says, raising an eyebrow, cigarette already halfway to his lips. “What are you going to do about it?” Luke opens his mouth, and closes it again. Then, suddenly-

“I’ll give you my number if you don’t,” he blurts, and then immediately feels himself turn an impressive shade of red. Ashton’s hand stills for a moment, and then he grins, and tucks the cigarette back behind his ear. 

“If I remember correctly, you owe me your number anyway, pretty boy,” he says, but he’s still smiling. 

“You almost gave me a hangover,” Luke says, but he’s reaching for the phone in his coat pocket anyway, if only to spare himself from having to look at Ashton. Jesus Christ. What the fuck came over him? 

“Not my fault you’re a lightweight,” he hears Ashton say, and he scowls, unlocking his phone and pulling up his own contact. He spins back around to his desk and pulls a piece of paper towards him, scribbling the numbers down at the top. He hesitates, and then writes Luke at the top, even though Ashton clearly knows his name. He’s not sure how many numbers someone as attractive as Ashton must be receiving on a daily basis, so it can’t hurt, right? 

He pushes the piece of paper towards Ashton, who takes it with a grin, reading the numbers at least three times. 

“You know, I know your name,” he remarks. 

“I know.” Ashton glances back at the numbers again, and looks like he’s going to say something else, when the door to the kitchen opens. 

“You come on your bike?” Calum asks Ashton, who nods. “Good. I’ve picked out a few places I think might have good ones.” 

“In your budget?” 

“Fuck you,” Calum says, as they start off towards the door. “I got a raise, remember?” 

“And you still think Michael’s going to say yes when he hears how you got it?” Ashton says, sounding amused. 

“He already knows,” Calum says dismissively, pushing the door open. “And it’s not like he’s above threats of violence himself.” 

“I’ll text you, pretty boy,” Ashton calls over his shoulder, just before the door shuts behind him. 

Luke’s glad the door’s between them, or he might do something stupid like shout yes, please do, and please fuck me while you’re at it after Ashton. 

Jesus, he thinks, putting his head in his hands. Ashton’s got his number. He’s given Ashton his number. He, Luke Hemmings, had the gall to give the hottest guy in the entirety of Australia his number. 

Whatever, he tells himself, packing his things together. Ashton’ll probably forget to text him, anyway. Luke’s not exactly high up on anyone’s to-do list. 

 -------

 Much to his surprise, Luke’s first text from Ashton comes on Saturday evening. 

0491570156  Evening, pretty boy. 

Luke looks over at his phone lazily when it chimes, not intending to answer his mum when Mike Ross is about to get found out as a fraud by Jessica, and jerks upright when he sees the nickname. 

Hi. 

Hey. 

Hi :)

Hi! 

Hi 

Luke types and erases each one. Too serious, too enthusiastic, too childlike, not cool enough. By the time he’s decided to just bite the bullet and go for Hey, Ashton’s typing again, and Luke erases it all and waits with bated breath. 

0491570156 You typing an essay or something?

Shit, Luke forgot Ashton could see when he was typing. God, he’s going to have to start typing on Notes, or something. 

Me Sorry. Hi 

It’s terrible, but so is Luke, so it’s fitting. He clicks off the chat so he won’t have to see Ashton typing, and saves him as a new contact, by which time Ashton’s sent another message. 

Ashton You sound pleased to hear from me 

Luke swallows. He’s not sure whether it’s just because it’s over text, but Ashton sounds kind of pissed. 

Me I am!  

He erases that immediately. 

Me I am, I’m just surprised 

He bites his lip, and then thinks fuck it, takes another gulp of his wine, and adds a line. 

I’m also pretty bad at talking to people. 

Ashton’s reply is instantaneous. 

Ashton You’re cute when you’re flustered 

Ashton Although honestly, you’re cute all the time

Me I’m flustered all the time

Luke stares at the screen, willing Ashton to respond, heart beating wildly. He’s not exactly known for his flirting prowess. 

Ashton Damn...thought I was special 

Luke inhales deeply, and types without letting himself think about it. 

Me Never said you weren’t the reason I’m flustered all the time 

This time, Ashton replies immediately. 

Ashton Good :) I was starting to think this was all one-sided 

Luke lets out a shaky exhale. What’s that supposed to mean? 

He’s halfway through typing out a message along those lines when another text comes through. 

Ashton Sorry, my shift is actually about to start. Wasn’t expecting you to reply so quickly 

And then another: 

Ashton See you around, pretty boy 

Luke stares at it, and then puts his phone down, slightly dazed. 

He’s not going to think about this until he absolutely has to. 

 -------

 ‘Until he absolutely has to’ turns out to be about ten p.m. on Sunday night. 

Ashton Hey, pretty boy

Ashton I’m on my break 

Luke jumps when his phone chimes, and grabs for it with fumbling fingers. 

Me How’s work?

Ashton Oh, you know 

Ashton Only had to kick out one guy so far 

Ashton So pretty good 

Luke huffs out a laugh. 

Me Pretty sure that’s a bouncer’s job, not a barback’s 

Ashton I’m a good multitasker 

Okay, Luke doesn’t have, like, a thing for bouncers, but the idea of Ashton squaring up to some drunk guy and throwing him out is kind of doing something to him. He blames it on the fact it’s late, he’s tired, he’s desperate, and Ashton’s far too attractive for his own good. 

Me Clearly, since you bartend too 

Ashton Hey, you said you wouldn’t tell 

Me Telling you doesn’t count as telling 

Ashton You don’t know who might be watching over my shoulder 

Luke grins. 

Me Who’s watching over your shoulder? 

Ashton No one, but it’s the principle of it 

Luke doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he’s saved from having to come up with anything by another text from Ashton. 

Ashton You should come by the bar again soon 

Me Bars aren’t really my scene 

Ashton The way you knocked back those tequila shots says otherwise 

Me I said bars, not alcohol 

Ashton Come after closing, then 

Luke hesitates. 

Me I have work during the week. I can’t be out at three 

Ashton Then come on Friday 

Luke exhales heavily. 

Me Maybe 

Ashton You can say no

Me I’m not saying no 

Ashton :) 

Ashton Break’s over. I’ll see you soon, pretty boy x 

Luke throws his phone down on his bedside table, pretending for the sake of his sanity that he hasn’t seen the fucking kiss at the end of that message, rolls over, and goes to sleep. 

(And if his dreams are filled with dimly lit bars and hot guys in leather jackets, that’s a total coincidence.) 

 -------

 It comes to a head on Tuesday. 

On Monday, Luke’s note had read: 

Golden boy, 

Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others. I think we are the latter. 

- AFI. 

Luke hadn’t had to look that one up - it’s Sense and Sensibility, anyone would know that. It might have made his heart race a little, seeing those words in the rushed, scratchy writing he’s come to associate with AFI, and knowing that they’re for him. Someone out there thinks that despite the fact they’ve only been leaving him notes for a little over a week, that’s enough. 

Ashton doesn’t show up until a minute before Calum’s shift ends on Tuesday, which is unusual for him. He’s got bruised knuckles and a black eye when he does turn up, and he can only throw Luke a slightly half-hearted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and doesn’t even call him pretty boy. 

“Hi,” he says, sounding tired. 

“What happened?” Luke says, frowning. Ashton shrugs. 

“I owed someone a favour,” he says simply, and there’s a tone of finality to his voice that tells Luke not to pry. Luke swallows, and nods. 

“You should put ice on that,” he says instead, nodding at Ashton’s eye, and Ashton huffs out a laugh. 

“Yeah, I-” he starts, and then the door to the kitchen bangs open, and Calum’s striding out, looking stricken when he spots Ashton. 

“What the fuck?” he demands, coming up to Ashton and cupping his face in his hands. “Jesus, was this Leon?” 

“Ben,” Ashton corrects, and Calum drops his hand. 

“Ben?” he says, an edge of fury to his voice. “Which Ben?” 

“You know which Ben,” Ashton says uncomfortably, turning away from Luke and heading off towards the door. Calum jogs after him, making a noise of anger. 

“Ashton Fletcher Irwin, what the fuck did I tell you about going after Ben?” he says dangerously. 

“I know, but Sam said-” Ashton says, cut off by the door swinging shut behind them, and Luke never gets to find out what Sam said. 

It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s gaping at the spot Ashton and Calum had just been standing in. 

Ashton Fletcher Irwin, Calum had said. Ashton Fletcher Irwin. 

AFI. 

Luke barely even notices he’s on his feet until he’s at the door, tearing it open and looking around wildly. The cold May air heads straight for his nose and ears, but he can’t even bring himself to care, rushing down the steps when he spots Calum and Ashton arguing by two motorbikes. 

“...owed him, Cal, you and I both knew he was going to call the favour in at some point,” Ashton’s saying. 

“Ashton,” Luke says, and both Ashton and Calum turn to him in surprise. 

“Yeah?” 

“Ashton Fletcher Irwin.” Realisation dawns on Ashton’s face, and he swallows. 

“Yeah,” he says, a little quieter this time. 

“You?” Ashton squirms a little, and nods. 

“Holy shit,” Luke says, because he doesn’t get it, can’t wrap his head around it. “Fucking- you’re AFI.” 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Look, I’m sorry, I just-” 

“You read Anna Karenina?” Ashton glances at him in surprise. 

“What? Yeah, it’s one of my favourite books.” 

“And Hamlet?” 

“Who hasn’t read Hamlet?” 

“Gone With The Wind?” 

“I- yeah? I just-” Luke takes a deep breath. 

“You’re AFI,” he says, again. Calum’s watching this entire exchange with something between bewilderment and amusement, leant back against his bike. 

“I just said that,” Ashton says. 

“You wrote me romantic notes.” 

“I- uh, yeah. I did.” Luke blinks at him, and takes a deep breath. 

“You- did you mean them?” 

“Of course I meant them,” Ashton says, sounding surprised. “How could I not? Jesus, Luke, look at you. You’re a fucking fantasy come to life. I’ve wanted nothing more than to kiss you since the day I first saw you. You think I was coming to pick Calum up from the hotel to be a good friend?” Luke stares at him. That’s the first time Ashton’s said his name, and Luke wants to hear it for the rest of his life.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you,” he says, without thinking. Ashton chokes on his next breath, and Calum sniggers behind his hand. 

“I’m going to go ahead,” he says, still smirking, throwing a leg over his bike. “Be safe, boys.” Ashton flips him off as Calum kicks his bike into gear and rides off, leaving Luke and Ashton alone in the deafening silence that follows Calum’s roaring exhaust. 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Ashton says, after a minute. Luke bites his lip. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, “but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.” Ashton laughs at that, amused and fond, before his face falls again, like he’s just remembered something.

“Luke,” he says carefully. “I- look. I like you, but I’m- I’m not a good guy.” 

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?” Ashton sighs. 

“No,” he says. “I- look. I’m trying to be better, okay? But I don’t want you to get caught up in all this. I’m trying to end it.” Luke hesitates, and then nods. He’d kind of known Ashton was mixed up in something, and he finds that it doesn’t really bother him. 

“Okay,” he says easily. 

“No, Luke, you don’t get it,” Ashton says, sounding a little frustrated, and Luke takes a bold step forward, because what the fuck does he have to lose now, and places a hand on Ashton’s forearm. 

“Hey,” he says, summoning all his courage. “You owe favours, you’re repaying debts. You don’t have to tell me what they are. I’m okay with that.” Ashton frowns at him.  

“I’m ending it,” he says again, like he doesn’t think Luke believes him. “These are the last few jobs. I’ll be out of the bar in a few weeks.” Luke nods again. 

“Okay,” he says. “I can wait a few weeks, if you want me to.” Ashton tilts his head, and stares at Luke. 

“You’d do that?” 

“Well, I’ve waited six months, haven’t I?” A slow grin spreads across Ashton’s face. 

“You don’t have to wait,” he says. “It’s not- like, I’m not in the fucking mafia, or anything. I just don’t want you to get caught up in my business.” Luke shrugs. 

“I’m good at lowkey,” he says, and Ashton huffs out a laugh. 

“Yeah, I can believe that,” he says. “So. How about mine on Friday, instead of the bar?” Luke blinks at him. 

“Don’t you have to work?”  

“Not if I call in sick,” Ashton says. Luke hesitates, and then a small smile spreads across his lips. 

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Ashton grins back at him, swinging a leg over his bike and pulling his helmet on.  

“I’ll text you,” he says. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, a little dazed. “Text me.” Ashton kicks his bike into gear, and Luke sees his eyes crinkle, which means he’s smiling.  

“See you around,” Ashton says, “golden boy.” 

#lashton #5sos slash #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #malum #i'm telling you i haven't struggled this much to write a fic since like 2015 #JESUS CHRIST I HAVE 2 MINUTES AND I AHVENT WRITETN AN AUTHORS NOTE FUCK ME #OH SHIT I SAVED IT AS A DRAFT INSTEAD OF POSTING IT SORRY IM 5 MINS LATE

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Christmas Surprise

Warnings: Dub con, non con, 18+

Word Count: 5,405

Pairings: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader meets Bucky at her Cafe on Christmas Eve. After he thinks she has no one to spend Christmas with, he follows her home where secrets are revealed. 

~ indicates a time change

Prompts: “But you said it would snow.”

This is for @capcountdownchristmas​ challenge. I am, again, so sorry for being so late. Not gonna lie, busted a huge nut while writing this last night. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hours dragged on as the lines around the mall got bigger and bigger. Your eyes stung with exhaustion and you held back the urge to yawn for the 10th time in the last minute. You couldn’t wait to get home, it was Christmas Eve. You would expect people to be home, yet the mall was alive with procrastinators, scavenging to get their last minute gifts. Everything was starting to wind down as you looked to the clock, nearly 5pm. Usually the cafe you worked in closed with the mall, at 10, but your boss insisted you close early at 5. He promised to take his family to Puerto Rico to see family, he wasn’t expecting so many people to be here at 10. He was probably kicking himself, as more people flooded in, they looked like they needed coffee to keep them afloat. You were taken from your thoughts as another customer walked into your vision. He had long dark brown hair with the clearest blue eyes. You were stunned at his beauty but quickly caught your breath and found your best customer service voice yet again. 

“Good evening, sir, are you ready to order?” You smiled to the man. He looked like the man you onced loved. Maybe that’s why you found him so beautiful. You saw your ex husband in his eyes. 

The man looked into your eyes and then back to the menu over your head. He ran his hand down his nicely trimmed beard. “Yeah, I’ll just take a large, hot, black coffee.” You smiled brighter and nodded, his order was painfully easy thank God, then started typing his order’s price into the cash register. 

“Okay, that’ll be $5, sir. Would you like to donate to the children’s Christmas Drive? They need donations to ensure the kids have a nice christmas this year over at the hospital.” You looked back to the man still smiling. 

“Sure.” He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He pulled out a 10 dollar bill and handed it to you. You broke the 10 into two 5’s and put one in the register and the other in the donation jar. 

“Okay, thank you sir. I’ll get started on your coffee.” You closed the register and smiled as you handed his receipt to the man. He mumbled a thank you as you turned to start his coffee. You were the only one working that night, which made the day go only slower. As you pulled out the coffee pot you saw no coffee left. You’d have to make more, which would take about 5 minutes. This would be a nightmare if there were a lot of people in line, but you turned to look and nobody was there except the man with the pretty eyes. 

Thank god you thought to yourself. You started putting the coffee grinds into the coffee maker before putting it on the eye. The sound of the coffee brewing filled the small area as you walked back to the counter where the man stood waiting for his order. 

“Excuse me sir, I apologize but there was no coffee left. I’m making more now, your order should be no more than 5 minutes.” You smiled again, hoping this wouldn’t make him irritated. He already didn’t seem happy with being here. An angry customer was always hard to deal with, especially today. 

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

You nodded and stepped from behind the counter and made your way to the door, flipping the sign to closed. The clock read 5:03. The ones inside the cafe started filtering out, soon it was only you and the man. 

“So, any plans for the holiday?” Your voice seemed to surprise him. He looked to you before replying. 

“Not really,” He stopped talking before jumping a little, standing a bit taller. “How about you?” 

You started cleaning the cafe up, this way you could get out after delivering the coffee, you still wanted to pick up a gift. You had been saving all year for this gift, working several jobs, and now all your hard work would be paid off. You could finally afford it. 

“Nothing. Just get off work and head over to one of these stores and pick up a last minute gift for someone. I’ve been working hard to get it all year, so glad I can finally afford it.”

His face seemed to fall at this. “Husband?”

Now it was your turn to have your face turn down. “No. He passed away 7 years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright,” You cut him off, your smile returning. “Really. His death was hard on me at first, had to drop out of college and get a job to support myself. It’s led to me having 2 jobs at once, but both are really good to me. Been working at this cafe for 7 years,” You pointed to the donation jar. “A nurse’s aid has been my other job. I like it there a lot, with the kids. I wanted to be a pediatrician so it’s not too far off what I saw in my future. I’m not as rich as I thought,” You chuckled. “But it pays the bills and allows me to have some nice things, buy some things for other people, too.”

You stopped cleaning the table you were working at. You looked up to see the man staring at you intently, you had probably scared him. You hadn’t meant to tell this stranger your life story, but you did have the tendency to blab on. Plus you hadn’t had many to really talk to. “I’m sorry. You didn’t come for story time.” 

He was about to reply when the coffee machine dinged, it was ready. You stood upright, bringing the rag with you to dispose of in the laundry basket, before making your way behind the counter. You silently grabbed a holiday cup before pouring the black substance inside. You popped a lid on and handed it to the customer, making sure to smile. 

“Thank you for waiting, hope you have a happy holiday.”

“Thanks, you too.” He started making his way to the door when he stopped. 

“Something wrong, sir?” You were shrugging on your coat and grabbing your purse and the keys to the cafe. You were ready to leave and get home. 

“Yeah, I forgot your tip.”

You smiled, he was really sweet. “No need sir, really. My tip can be the donation you gave.”

The man turned to you, scrunching up his face. He took out his wallet again, pulling out a bill. “Nonsense. That was a donation, this is a tip,” He walked over to you, handing you a 100 follar bill. “Consider it an early Christmas gift.” 

Your mouth was hitting the floor. $100?! You would never carry around that much money around, your parents taught you better than that. 

“I-I can’t accept this.” You stammered, eyes still wide staring at the money.

“Please, it’ll mean a lot to me.”

You looked up at the man and saw him smiling down at you. It made your heart clench. Your husband acted just like him, they’d be best friends. You smiled before taking the bill with shaking hands. “Thank you. So much.”

“You’re welcome. Get home safe,” He squinted at your name tag. “Y/N.”

You smiled even bigger. “I will, thanks, you too!”

And with that the generous man left you in the cafe. You grabbed the donation can and put it in your bag. You’d deliver it tomorrow on your shift. The hospital never closed, therefore you’d be there. You locked up the cafe, thankful you wouldn’t be coming back there for another 3 days, then made your way to the main area. You still had to get that gift. 

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

You clutched the gift tighter to your body. You didn’t live in a bad part of town, your 2 jobs barely ensured this, but you still didn’t trust someone wouldn’t steal the expensive box in your hands. You went up to your apartment, it was oddly quiet. You figured the person was still at the neighbors, you were home earlier than expected, so you decided to start wrapping the gift. Like every Christmases, the tree stood brightly decorated. Other years small gifts sat under the tree, they were all you could manage. Now, nothing was there. You had kept from spending so you could have this gift you were busy wrapping now. You were excited, they were going to be so excited. You looked outside your window and frowned. It still wasn’t snowing. The weather man said it would be by now. 

You were finishing the wrapping when the doorbell rang. They’re here! You quickly fix your hair and put the newly wrapped box under the tree before making your way to the door. You wished you could’ve changed, had a quick shower maybe. Oh well. 

You opened the door with a smile and was about to hug the person on the other side when you realized it wasn’t who you thought it was. Far from it even. 

“Hi, Y/N!”

It was the man from the cafe. How did he get here, why was he here? 

“I saw you come into the apartment. Would you believe I have family right down there?” 

You smiled and relaxed a bit. He wasn’t a crazy stalker. “Wow, that’s crazy! I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah...They’re about to head out to go caroling. Not really my thing, so I think I’m going to head home. Wanted to just pop in before I left though.” He seemed to be stalling in your doorway. Like he didn’t want to go.

“Oh, well would you like to come in? I was going to start making hot chocolate.”

His eyes brightened at the idea. “Yeah! Erh- I mean are you sure? Wouldn’t want to impose…” His voice trailed off, as if he were hinting at something. 

“No, not at all!” You pulled him inside before closing the door. 

“My name’s Bucky by the way. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier.”

You started walking toward the kitched before turning your head over your shoulder to look at him and smile. “Hey Bucky. I’m Y/N as you know,” You laughed with him as you took milk out of the fridge. “You can have a seat wherever. I know it’s not much, but we make do.”

Bucky nodded before taking a seat on the couch. The walls were bare, dark squares in their place. He frowned at them. “Were there pictures hanging here before?”

You poured the milk into a pot on the stove and turned the eye on then walked to where you could sit next to Bucky on the couch. “Yeah, they were of my husband. I took them down after he… I just couldn’t seem to move on with them there. I meant to put them up again one day, when I could handle it, but I still don’t think I can. Not even 7 years later. Now I’m not one for pictures, would rather live in the moment.” You stopped talking and turned to him. He was staring at you. It made you kind of uncomfortable. Why did he look at you like that? You shifted under his gaze before smiling again. “There I go again, talking your ears off.” 

Bucky shook his head, hair shifting around his shoulders perfectly. “No, I like it. Not had anyone to talk to in years, I like to listen more anyway.” You nodded. All you had done since your husband passed away was listen. Sure, you enjoyed it, but what you’d give to have someone hear you for once. 

“Your family not one for listening?”

“Not really. They’re often off in their world when I talk. My brother, Steve, is always trying to get me to talk, and he listens, but I can’t stand the look he gives me when I do talk, like I’m nothing but my problems. He says I can talk to him, and I can, but I can’t help but to feel judged by him. I know he’s trying his best, but I wish I could talk to someone new. Someone who didn’t know my past.”

You stared at him stunned. It was the most he had talked to you. Then again, he was a stranger. Which pricked at your nerves, you had let a stranger into your home. He could’ve been a killer, especially with this talk about “his past”. 

“Who did you say your family was? I know everyone in the building and I’ve lived here for about 10 years. I feel I should’ve seen you at a Thanksgiving or Christmas or something.”

In that moment the stove started making sizzling noises, your milk was flooding over. You jumped up to move it off the eye and turning the hot one off entirely. The milk starts to stop bubbling when taken off the eye and you turn to get the cocoa packets. Right then you’re met with the hard chest of Bucky. How long was he behind you?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You tried to side-step him but he was quick to get in front of you again.

“Bucky?”

“You know, Y/N, I was really relieved that you didn’t recognise me. It took me a while to realize who you were in the coffee shop.I was hoping you weren’t married. You had been the first person to talk to be in a long time. Besides Steve, of course. I felt something, a connection. But when you mentioned a gift, I’ll admit, I was pissed. I wanted you to myself. A sweet, gorgeous girl like you is hard to come by now. When you mentioned your husband's death 7 years ago I finally remembered you. I wasn’t sure at first, but I’m pretty sure,” He looked around the walls again then back your terrified face and trembling body. Who was this guy? “You have no pictures up so you’ll have to correct me if I'm wrong. Was your husband an ex Shield agent by any chance?”

You relaxed a bit. Your husband was a Doctor, he passed away in a car accident on his way home from work. 

“No. He was a doctor,” You glanced to the door. You were angry at yourself for letting this clearly delusional man into your home. He had no family here, and he followed you home. Now he thought he knew you and your family. “Bucky, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police.” Again you tried to step around him. 

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you close. “I don’t think I will, doll.” You looked up to Bucky with wide searching eyes. You looked around you, scouting out something to use as a weapon. Anything. Your eyes landed on the mugs and you reached out to them. 

“No you don’t.” You screamed as you were thrown over your shoulder. You thrashed in his hold, trying to wiggle free. 

“Bucky, stop! Let me go now!” You were settled back on the couch, Bucky reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out rope.

“Didn’t think I’d use these on you. Expecting to put them on that boyfriend of yours, but I suppose since he’s not here yet..” Boyfriend? 

He made quick work tying your hands together behind you before keeping a stern hand on you upper left arm and turning you to face him.

“Good. Better?”

“Fuck you.” You spat

Bucky smiled wider at you. “There’s the feisty woman I remember.”

“Remember? We’ve never met.”

“No, we haven’t. Not officially. I studied you from afar, back when my name was still the Winter Soldier,” The name seem to make him shiver. “I saw you and your husband, watched you for weeks. You were different then. A feisty young thing. No wiser to who your husband was.”

“You have the wrong person. My husband was a doctor, not an agent.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah, that’s what you said then. His nurse, Nancy? The one with short brown hair? Not really a nurse, doll, she was an agent. And so was he.” The girl did ring a bell. She always had a lingering touch on your husband, one you didn’t like. You had complained to him a lot about her, he always told you she had nothing on you. You believed him. 

Bucky’s hand reached into his pocket again. You watched him and realized he was wearing leather gloves. Strange for the weather. He took out a photo and showed you. It was a picture of you and your husband at a party at his work. The day before he died. They had thrown him a party, he had saved someone’s life through dire circumstances. The next day he was supposed to have off, but he had to go in for an emergency surgery. He never made it back home. 

“He had just killed a couple of people that worked for an organization called HYDRA. They weren’t happy, so they sent me to kill him. As always, I watched my target for weeks. I was waiting for the perfect moment,” He caressed your trembling face, you were close to tears. “The day after this photo was taken I shot him while in his car. False phone call and everything got him out of the house and away from you. Guess even with my brains in the blinder I had fallen for you. Didn’t want you seeing your husband's brains all over the floor. All these years later I see you in that cafe,” Bucky shook his head. “I couldn’t stand the fact that I had done that to you. If I had known I would’ve done this sooner.”

You shook your head. This didn’t make sense. The police ruled your husband’s death a terrible car accident. He had been driving at night and exhaustion behind the wheel caused him to crash into the wall. He wasn’t an agent. He hadn’t killed anyone. But this guy claimed he did, and that he had killed his husband. All the while being called the Winter Soldier. It made you uneasy. 

“You’re lying.” You started trying to move away from Bucky again, but he easily pulled you back using his grasp on you arm. 

“I wish I was. I was a monster, but so was your husband. Killing people, some of them innocent. Then he came home and lied to you. I’d never lie to you.” He was inching closer to you now, you could feel his body heat.

You whimpered when he pressed his lips to you, refusing to kiss back. He pulled away after a moment and looked into your eyes, his blown black with lust. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long. And now, you’re mine. I don’t care who he is, he’s going to learn you’re mine now and I don’t plan on letting you go.” Who was he?

Before you could ask he brought his left hand to your left breast and squeezed. You whimpered again and tried to shove him away best way you could with your binded hands. 

“Bucky, no please.”

Bucky smiled again. “What’s wrong? You afraid your boyfriends going to show up?”

“N-no! Please, just don’t do this. Let me go.”

“No can do. I told you, you’re mine,” His hand traveled down your chest and below your stomach, stopping near your heat clad jeans. “Besides, I can’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

Just then Bucky made quick work unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down. You jerked your hips trying to make the process harder for him, but alas your motives didn’t deter him. He slided them along with your panties down revealing your pussy to him. 

Bucky hummed in approval. He looked to your shirt and quickly grabbed it, ripping it from your body. 

“Bucky stop!”

He ignored you as he clipped off your strapless bra, leaving you completely nude to him. “You’re prettier than I imagined, dear.” He licked his lips looking you up and down. He removed his gloves and shrugged off his jacket. You gasped as his left arm shined in the light. It was metal. He removed his shirt before dropping his jeans, leaving him in his underwear. His member strained in the thin fabric, aching for freedom. He was huge. Bigger than anything you had ever taken. Bucky saw you watching and smirked down at you before palming himself. 

“I’ve been hard since the cafe,” He growled. “Never been the hard before. If I’m being honest, all I want for Christmas is you, doll.” He removed himself from his underwear and groaned. He kicked the fabric away and gripped his base before groaning again. He walked over to you again before getting to his knees in front of your heat. You hated to admit it, but you were growing wet. Years of nights spent alone with your toys, none filling you the way a man could, the way your husband did. Most of the time you went to sleep unsatisfied, and others you just ignored the urges entirely. Majority of the time you worked so there wasn’t much you could do anyway. 

Bucky brought himself forward and licked a line from your entrance to your bud. He moaned at the taste. 

“You taste like heaven, doll.” He brought his hand to either thigh, spreading you out more for him. He dove back in, feasting on your pussy like a final meal. Your stomach was doing flips at this old pleasure, something you hadn’t felt in years. You were biting back the noises you wanted nothing more than to let fly, and it took everything not to grind your hips into face, bringing your core more into his mouth. It wasn’t until he brought a finger to your hole that you couldn’t contain the moan that slipped. Bucky looked to you through lashes and smiled into your heat. He pumped the finger into you before adding another, you relished in the stretch your fingers could never bring. Your hips started on their own accord and you let them. Bucky moaned into your core and you shook from the vibrations. Your body was in control and you didn’t mind, too blissed to care at the moment. Finally, Bucky curled his fingers into you at the right spot that had you seeing stars. You moaned out loud in ecstasy and Bucky fought to keep your thighs from closing around his head as he continued to slurp you up. 

He stood up and removed his fingers from you, popping them into his mouth. His eyes rolled back as he sucked on them before removing them. 

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You were still catching your breath when Bucky sat down. Your mind was still cloudy with your orgasm as he lifted you onto his lap, his hot member pressing into your sensitive cunt. 

“B-Bucky, wait-”

You were cut off by Bucky pulling you all the way down on him. You gasped from the stretch and he hissed from your tight walls hugging him. He could stay like that all day. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” 

He held onto your hips and starting moving you up and down in a slow rhythm. You were growing accustomed to his length and the pleasure starting building yet again. The room started to grow hot, despite the freezing temperatures of New York City outside, and your bodies felt sticky. Bucky started picking up the pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Your moans mixed with his.

“Shit, your pussy is so good, hugging me so good.” He slapped your ass, guiding you faster and faster on his cock. He looked down where your bodies met and moaned as he watched his cock disappear into you before reappearing wetter. “This feels good doesn’t it? You like it when I fuck you on your coach don’t you?” He reached down and found your bud again, making you cry out. “Tell me you like he.” He growled through gritted teeth, dark eyes boring into yours.

“I like it.” Your voice weak with pleasure.

Bucky hummed, working you harder against him. 

“You’re gonna make me come baby. I want you to cum first. Let go on my cock, I want you dripping all down my dick, doll. Can you do that? Can you cum on my cock like a good girl?” 

You nodded your head, you were close and wanted it so bad. He was fucking you so good it hurt. Your breath was getting faster and your eyes threatened to close. Bucky flicked your bud again before you exploded. You came loud, clenching his cock in a viper grip as your release shook your body and threaten to slide down his thick cock. Bucky didn’t stop, he was determined to finish as he rocked you harder, his eyes closed in intense pleasure. His hips rose to meet yours when he finally hit up into you one last time before screaming your name. You felt him cum deep in you, he ground his hips a little to work himself through it. 

As you both caught your breath he hugged you close to him. His breath fanned over your shoulder as your overworked body slumped beneath his chin. Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion. After a while Bucky removed you from him, settling you carefully on the couch, his sum drizzling out of you a bit. He got up and moved in the back while you sat still, still too dazed to think about the fact he had cum in you with no protection. You’d have to deal with it later. 

Bucky came back with a wet washcloth, a night shirt, and fresh underwear. He carefully cleaned your core before dressing you, then himself. He was just untying your wrist when a knock on the door sounded. You both looked to it in shock then to each other. Your eyes were wide on him and he just smiled again. You made to stand but he pushed you down. 

“I got it.” Was all he said while he stood up, his tall frame moving to the door. You rubbed your wrist, tears threatening to spill over; you knew who was at the door. 

Bucky pulled the door open. 

“Sorry we’re late, we went to the park and let time get ahead of us - Oh! Hello.” The old woman, Mrs. Kim, stood at your door talking with Bucky. He wasn’t looking at her, though, he was looking at Oliver. 

“That’s no problem, Mrs. Kim. Did he have a good time?” You screamed from your place on the couch. Mrs. Kim looked passed Bucky to you and smiled.

 “Oh yes! He couldn’t stop talking about a train set Kid’s Kompany just released. It sounds awesome.” She looked down at the little boy who smiled up at her. Your heart leapt in your chest and you looked to the gift under the tree. He did nothing but talk about the set since he first saw it on tv, you were so glad you were able to get it. 

“Thanks again Mrs. Kim.”

“No problem, honey. Oliver is such a joy, have a good night,” she looked to you then Oliver then back to Bucky. “It was nice meeting you, dear.” She held out her hand to Bucky, to which he shook still eyeing Oliver. Mrs. Kim winked at you and walked away, back to her apartment. She was a nice old woman, her and her husband always agreeing to help with Oliver. She always said you needed to move on from your husband. I guess she thought Bucky was the next prince charming. She was sort of right. 

Oliver looked at Bucky curiously with his big blue eyes, they fancied his dad’s and Bucky’s you thought, before sidestepping him into the apartment. He wanted to know who Bucky was, but you raised him to not be rude. He’d more than likely ask later if he wasn’t introduced. He looked to you and smiled wide before running over with his arms spread out out, ready for a hug.

“Mommy!”

You smiled at your son as he ran into your arms. You hugged him close to you, kissing his dark locks. 

Bucky shut the door before turning to you entirely. 

“Mommy, it’s not snowing.” Your son said with a pout.

You smiled sadly at him, you knew he was disappointed. “I know, honey”

“But you said it would snow.”

“I know I did, the weatherman said it would.”

“It still might.” You and your son looked to Bucky. He was smiling at your son while leaning on the wall, arms crossed. 

“Really?” His blue eyes filled with excitement and he ran to Bucky before you could stop him. Your eyes rounded with fear. 

“That’s right. In fact, when it does we’re going to go sledding.”

Oliver turned to you, his excitement growing. He turned back to Bucky. “Sledding? I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never been sledding before? Well, its awesome, you’re gonna love it, Oliver.”

Your son’s name sounded like venom on Bucky’s lips. How dare he volunteer to take your son somewhere? You’d raise Hell before you allowed that to happen. 

Oliver’s curiosity burst and he asked, “Who are you?”

Bucky acted stunned and looked between you and Oliver. You shot daggers at him, what was he doing?

“Did mommy not tell you, bud? I’m your dad.”

Now you were furious. Oliver had never met his dad or seen photos. You were just 2 months pregnant with him when his father died. He hadn’t even known, you planned to tell him the night he died. You had said you had no photos of him when he asked. You planned to show him, but one drunk sad night you threw them away. You had missed his father deeply, surely he wouldn’t need photos. It was a stupid move on your part; a sad, stupid move. 

Oliver looked stunned but quickly jumped with joy and hugged Bucky tight. Bucky returned the hug. Oliver was close to tears looking at his “dad”. 

“Where have you been dad? I missed you so much, mommy said you died before I was born.”

“I know buddy I’m sorry. I had to trick mommy because I was scared to meet you. But now I’m here, and I will never leave you guys again. Mommy won’t have to work anymore and we’re going to move in together. How does that sound?”

Oliver nodded his head yes. “It sounds good, daddy!”

You looked on stunned. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

Bucky picked up Oliver and moved to where you sat on the couch. He sat him in your lap and moved to the tree. He picked up the present and walked back. He handed the present to Oliver who looked at Bucky surprised. “For me?”

“Yeah, buddy. That’s from mommy, she worked so hard to get that for you.”

Oliver turned to you and hugged you again. “Thanks mommy!”

You hugged Oliver back and smiled at him. “You’re welcome baby.”

Oliver ripped passed the green reindeer wrapping paper to reveal the train set. He squealed with delight and hugged you again, chanting thank yous over and over. Bucky pulled you closer so that you all looked like a family hugging. “My present is going to be sledding. I’m sorry I don’t have anything else, I wasn’t expecting to be coming this Christmas. But next year, I promise it’s going to be amazing,” Bucky said to Oliver. Oliver nodded, his hair bouncing everywhere. He smiled at you and then Bucky. Bucky’s hand traveled down to your stomach. “We have another surprise, buddy. This one’s from us both, so in total you have 3 presents. This time next year, you’re going to have a little brother or sister.” 

Your heart stopped at that. Oliver gasped and looked to you again. “Really? Yay! Best Christmas ever!” He had always wanted a little sibling, you were convinced it’d never happen. Bucky rubbed your stomach, a silent promise played in his actions. You felt sick and your face contorted into fear yet again.

Bucky smiled at you. “Consider it a Christmas surprise.” 

#dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!marvel #dark!mcu #dub con #non con

[trauma-13]

Birth story.

I'm posting this mostly so I can remember it down the line when it's not as fresh in my mind.

On may 27th, I had my weekly OB appointment. I was 38 weeks and 2 days. I went in, peed in a cup, and waited for my appt time. I got called back shortly, and had my vitals take. My blood pressure was 128/88. Not bad, but higher than it had been, even just the day before. I honestly didn't think much of it. My provider comes in, says she wants to recheck my BP, draw labs, and schedule me for a induction once I got to 39 weeks. She was concerned because my BP was higher and I had slight protein in my urine-for those not in the medical field reading this, she was concerned I was developing pre-eclampsia which is a very serious complication of pregnancy. So the MA comes back, rechecks my pressure-136/96. I assumed it was from anxiety of now being told I may have pre-eclampsia. My provider was in another room, so the MA had me go to the lab area to start blood work while she waited for the doc to finish in the other room. My doctor walked in the room a couple minutes later and said "nevermind labs, I want you to go to Shea (my delivery hospital)" I immediately started to panic, and asked "why, am I going to be induced?" She told me she didn't know yet, but wanted me to get stat labs, and be monitor vitally and the baby monitored for a couple hours. She said depending on labs would depend if I would be induced. She told me she'd see me at Shea.

Needless to say, I was pure panic. I'm not sure how I didn't burst into tears right then, but I some how didn't. I was terrified. Being a nurse, I know the bad things that can happen, and of course that's all I was focused on. I got to my car, still not crying, and called my husband. I told him to get dressed, and grab stuff to go to Shea, that I was fine and that I would tell him everything when I got home. Still no crying. I called my mom, because well she's my mom and she was going to come and stay with our dogs when I went into labor so they weren't alone for potentially days on end. As soon as mom answered the phone, all the walls came down and I started crying. Not just normal crying, full blown, can't talk, sobbing. She, of course, panics. She knew I had an OB appt, and she assumed the worst. I finally got my self together enough to tell her "I'm fine, the baby is fine," I explained everything that was going on, and that I was heading to the hospital shortly. I talked to her the entire 6 minute car ride home, still crying, and scared. She asked me if I wanted her to come up, and I said yes. She lives 3 hrs away, so it's not like she's close. I didn't know what the next few hours of my life held, and that was terrifying.

I got home, James had grabbed all our stuff, and had made sure to get the extra last minute things too. He asked if I was okay because I'd obviously been crying, I told him physically yes, emotionally no and that I was afraid of the next few hours and the uncertainty. We took the dogs out, stopped to get gas, and headed to Shea.

We get to the hospital around 1pm or so. I told them everything my doc had said, and the tech checking me in said my doc had called ahead and let them know about me. Even more fear sets in. We get back to a room, I give them a urine sample and change into the lovely gown. My nurse comes in and does her exam and tells me the plan. We're going to draw labs, monitor me and the baby and depending on all of the results would determine our next steps. At this point I had let my mother in law, and 3 best friends know what was going on incase we did get admitted for induction.

We sat in the room for a couple hours. I was contracting basically the whole time, but they were about 20 mins apart. I asked the nurse about it, she said they were fairly strong on the monitor, but weren't close enough yet. So around 5pm or so, another nurse comes in, she says my original nurse got pulled into an emergency delivery, but that she was going to discharge me so we could go home. I was a bag of emotions at this point. I had accepted that I'd be induced and would meet our baby soon, and had gotten over the fear and now I was being discharged. I was given strict orders to go home, relax, drink lots of water and "come back in 24 hrs for repeat labs, and make sure to bring your hospital bags when you come tomorrow," to me, that meant we were being induced tomorrow. Apparently it's some insurance thing, that they couldn't induce me that day. No clue.

So we go home. My mom's at the house. I told her everything they said and the plan for the next day.

Fast forward to 4pm the next day, it was time to head back to Shea. We got all of our things together and head over. I got checked into triage and brought back to a triage room. They hooked me up to the monitors, and at that point everything looked okay. Babys strip was great, I wasn't really contracting and my BP was doing okay at 130s/80s. They drew blood and then it was a waiting game.

I had started contracting again about 45 minutes after getting to the hospital. They were strong, and painful, and about 8-10 mins apart. They were painful enough that I was having to completely stop whatever I was doing, and just focus on breathing. I was assuming it was because I was stressed because the same thing had happened the day before. Of course, my blood pressure started to go up. Nothing crazy, but it was higher, about 140s/90s. My doctor came in around 6pm and said she wanted to admit me and induce me. She was concerned that if I went into labor naturally my BP would elevate too much and cause further issues. The plan was to admit me to labor and delivery, start pitocin, do an epidural, and have a baby! My doctor said, "around 4am we'll have this baby, so try to nap and relax once you get to the other room." Shift changed happens at 7pm, so one of the triage nurses started an IV, some fluids and we waited for the night shift nurse to come on for me to go over to the other room.

Around 715-730ish my L&D nurse came over and we headed over to the other room. During the *maybe* 1 minute walk over to the other room I had to stop and just breathe because holy contractions! Again, still convinced I wasn't really in labor. We got to L&D, I sat on the bed, and my nurse started asking me all the normal questions and asked what my plan was reguarding an epidural and if I wanted to do that before or after the pitocin. I was right in the middle of a VERY strong and painful contraction, and I didn't answer her right away. After the contraction passed, she said I looked incredibly uncomfortable and asked if I was okay. I straight up just started crying and told her I was so uncomfortable, and frankly I was terrified of pitocin. James was rubbing my back, and she grabbed my hands and said "don't worry, I'll go page the anaesthesiologist right now and we'll put the epidural in before we even think about pitocin. I want you comfortable first and foremost." I tried to lay down and get as comfy as possible until the doc came in.

Around 8pm he came in, explained the whole procedure and we got it done. It was so quick, and easy and I had such immediate relief. I could finally relax!! Physically and mentally! After the epidural was in, my nurse checked me, I was 4-5cm dialated, 90% effaced and 0 station. My nurse called my doc to ask if we wanted to start pitocin or wait and see what my body did naturally, my doc wanted to start the pitocin just because my BP was still elevated at this point even with the epidural and pain relief. We started the pitocin around 830pm or so, and my water still hadnt broken at this point. The plan was for my doctor to come in at 930pm and break my water if it hadn't happened naturally at that point.

Fast forward to 945ish and my doc comes in to break my water. Weirdest feeling ever. She also put Baby J on one of the internal monitors because he kept coming off the external monitor. At that point I was 5cm, 90%, and still 0 station. My nurse helped me lay on my left side and we were going to try to nap since we were in for a long night. James had started dozing pretty quickly, and I started feeling contractions again. Crazy strong, very frequent, maybe about 1 minute apart or so. I was holding his hand and felt like I was going to break his fingers Everytime I had a contraction. I remember looking at the clock and it being around 1010 and thinking "okay if my nurse hasn't come in by 1015, I'll call her" because DAMN were those contractions painful.

Within a few minutes my nurse came in, I honestly don't know how many minutes it had been because I was busy breathing hah! She said she was going to have the doctor put in an internal contraction monitor as well because she wasn't sure that the external was super accurate. My doc comes in within a few mins, and goes to place the monitor and says "oh, oh, you're complete and we need to push now because he's practically crowning" (apparently all that pain and pressure was my body saying hey let's do this!)

Nothing was ready! We weren't planning on having a baby for another few hours so the birth cart wasn't even in the room. The nurse grabbed one really quick while my doc was putting on shoe covers, she had enough time to throw on the sterile gown and gloves before i felt like I needed to push. My nurse had barely had time to page the baby nurse!

I pushed 3x over that contraction. Definitely yelled fuck, but otherwise, I don't remember saying anything/making any noise at all. My nurse coached me how to push effectively and how to curl my body to help.

Second contraction, pushed 3 more times. The whole time James was holding my left foot and rubbing my shoulder. He was his usual quiet self, which I expect nothing else hah!

Third contraction I pushed 3 more times. At the end of the third one my doc told me to take a big breath and give one big push. So I did. And little dude was born at 1036pm!

I pushed for around 7 minutes total (per James) before our little one was born. I had to get stitches, but I don't even remember it happening. As soon as they put my son on my chest, nothing else mattered. I couldn't stop shaking, or crying. It was completely uncontrollable. I was so overwhelmed! I went from the thought of having a baby hours from now, to having a baby in my arms 7 minutes later! It happened so fast we didn't even have time to tell my mom that it was game time. The plan was to have her on FaceTime so she could help talk to me and support us even though she couldn't physically be there.

Baby J was a few minutes old and I asked James to call my mom on FaceTime. When she answered she immediately started crying once she saw the baby and heard him crying. I kept apologizing for not calling her, I felt so bad even though it's so silly! James told her I started pushing about 10 mins ago and had a baby so quickly we didn't even have time to think about anything else. Of course she wasn't upset at all.

Once I was stitched up, my nurse shut off the epidural and helped clean me up a bit. After she said she was going to step out, and give us time to ourselves with our little one, but to call if we needed her. I held my little boy and just stared at him. He was perfect! The only better thing than holding him myself, was seeing James hold him for the first time. Que crying all over again.

He was born on May 28th, 2020 at 1036pm, 6lbs 1oz, and 19 inches long. I didn't get my June baby, but he's absolute perfection and has our entire hearts. Our little one is turning 7 weeks on Thursday. I can't believe he's been here for 7 weeks already. Motherhood has been the hardest most rewarding thing I've ever done in my life.

#birth story #labor and delivery #obstetrics #pregnancy #momma hood #momma-hood #meee #JTD #motherhood

[leafsgarbage]

leave before you love me (1) | m.a

A/N: This man has me wrapped around his pinky

Synopsis: He doesn’t really want you to care for him and the little scars he hides so well

Genre: Band!AU, fluff, angst (duh)

Warnings: drug use, strip clubs, toxic relationship, mentions of suicide 

Pairings: leadsinger!Atsumu x f!reader, timeskip!Atsumu x f!reader

→ Song rec: Psycho - Post Malone, Stay- Post Malone, Hardest to Love- The Weeknd, Starboy- The Weeknd, When Will I See You Again- Shakka, Gimme Love- Joji, Cough Syrup- Young the Giant

Main Masterlist

preview | 2

“We’re going tomorrow night.” Mila says to you. She’s been raving about this band for the longest time. “Taro is opening for them!”

You pull up your head from the kitchen table, you got home 20 minutes ago from working at the club and your head hurts. She knows you love Taro which is why she used that against you. “Fine. I’m not working tomorrow anyway.”

She claps her hands together. “Maybe you could wear what you’re wearing now! Your bodysuit looks cute. Did they tip you for handing them drinks.”

You smile, remembering it was a busy Thursday. “Yea, a bachelor party came in, and although I think they’re absolute pigs, they do tip a shit ton.”

“Ugh, I wish, my shift starts at seven pm, and I finish at midnight so I’ll meet you at the club they’re performing at.” She looks at her watch and notices it’s about six am. “Agh, go to sleep ok, get some rest.”

“G’night.” You change out of your clothes, shower, and then you fall dead on your bed.

You hardly ever have dreams, but this time, you dreamt that you and Mila were somewhere better than a scruffy two bedroom apartment int the middle of Chicago. Despite the shitty apartment, you two had a wonderful view of the city, and that was about the nicest thing you had.

Working as a waitress definitely helped you be able to pay your rent and own a couple of nice things. You love the girls you met there, but you just aren’t sure if this is what you want to be doing forever. There was just never another option for you. 

When you wake up its one in the afternoon. You have a long day before you have to meet up with Mila, so you clean the house, make breakfast, and get ready to head to the gym. 

It’s about 5pm when you walk in and spot Kenma and Kuroo, your friends from the orphanage. “Hey!” You wave them down and Kuroo gives a big and bright smile while Kenma waves slightly. They own the gym chain after Kenma made a fortune doing what he loves and Kuroo was a good business partner. They’re like you and Mila, joint together. “I haven’t seen you guys around here in forever! What are you guys doing?”

“Monthly inspection at the gyms.” Kenma replies.

Kuroo spits and laughs. “There’s a band that this kid likes in town, so we decided to kill two birds with one stone.”

You think for a second. “Is it the Jaguars or something? Mila and I are going to that too, tonight.”

“It’s The Jackals,” Kenma corrects.

Kuroo points at Kenma then looks back at you. “Did you get reeled in because she said-”

“Taro was going to be there, yes I did.” You two laugh together. Kuroo introduced you to Taro, he’s very big and upcoming, but you assume The Jackals are too since so many people like them. “Do you guys wanna work out with me? Its leg day.”

The two of them cross their arms in an X and shake their heads. “Last time we did that, Kenma was bedridden, and my co-workers made fun of me, so no thank you y/n.”

You laugh and punch Kuroo’s shoulder. “Alright you big babies, I’ll see you at the concert.” They wave goodbye and you get to work. 

You pull up your workout playlist and decide to add some of The Jackals’s song that would fit your workout playlist. You add Hardest to Love, Starboy, When will I See You Again, and Gimme Love. The first song was upbeat and everything, but the message behind it was so sad. He’s singing how hard it must be to love him and he feels bad that the other person tries so hard and puts up a front to be with him. Obviously at the end, they eventually give up and he talks about how he knew this was going to happen.

Your heart clenches, but you continue to the next song. Starboy was even more upbeat that the last, but it was very accusatory. Like they were pointing a finger at someone and telling them ‘look what you did to me.’ You liked it. 

When Will I See You Again was softer than the other two and it was sweet. Not as loud about their feelings as the other ones. It was just about holding someone close to them after them being away. 

Then Gimme Love was about a relationship that was pretty doomed, but he can’t help but stay and try his best. He wants what they used to be, and even though it’s not good now, he can’t let go of them. 

You listen to your regular playlist by Taro after you finish your squats and head to the leg press. You loved all his songs, but Psycho and Stay were your favorites, you just hoped he played them at his concert. 

Once you finish up your workout its already 7pm. You head back home, eat dinner, and go shower again. You get ready in your concert clothes with your boots so your feet don’t die in the mosh. You also put on some makeup, jewelry, and perfume so you don’t smell too bad. 

It’s 11pm once you finish and you rush out to get on the train. It’s about a 30-minute ride and you continue to listen to your Taro playlist, excited to see him so soon.

You get off on your stop and walk to the venue. It’s at an underground club in Chicago, they aren’t big artists yet, so the venues are smaller. You were there decently early, there were only about a handful of people so you grabbed a drink and sat at the bar. 

You texted Mila to tell her were you were and she said she was leaving the club already. You texted Kuroo and he said they were driving and there was a crazy amount of traffic. So you just sat by yourself. 

“Hey, can I get a blue moon.” The bartender cracks one open and hands it to him. “Thanks.”

You chuckle at the guy and he looks at you questioningly. “No orange?” You ask. Normally most people drink it with an orange.

He looks down at his drink and nods. “Didn’t feel like an orange kinda night.”

“I guess that’s fair.” You shrug and continue to sip on your drink.

“What about you, what are you drinking?”

You smile and nod your head. “Uh, sprite, ha.” The man chuckles.

He has a wonderful smile, you note, and his physique is quite impressive. “What are ya doin’ here so early? Big fan?”

“Um, my roommate told me to be here at midnight, so I like to be punctual.” You shrug

He nods in understanding and begins to take a seat next to you. “What’s yer name?”

“Y/n. What about you?”

His eyes widen and you don’t know what you did wrong. “So, you came here, just for yer roommate, not cause you know the band that’s playin’ tonight?”

You shake your head. “I know Taro, and I just started listening to a few of the The Jackals’s songs today.”

He sets his beer down on the table and crosses his arms. “And which of their songs are yer favorite right now?”

You hum and think for a bit. “I think it’s Hardest to Love. I liked the openness of it. How he understands that he’s not easy to handle, but that he did love the person and he wishes he could have fixed it if only he knew how. I think it’s a pretty message and relatable. Shit happens, and you never know how to handle every situation.”

At the time you didn’t hear it, but he lets out a breath and then just smiles at you. “Wow, you really analyze songs a lot.”

You smile sheepishly and drink your soda. “I really like music, so I’m never opposed to listening to new artists.”

“That’s good to know.” He finishes the last of his beer and gets up. “I gotta run, but you enjoy the show.” You wave back about to ask for his name, but he’s already gone. 

Not long after, Mila, Kuroo and Kenma show up. The four of you make your way to the front, and since you were there early, everything worked out. “Gahh I’m so excited y/n!”

“Me too! I’m so excited for Taro.” You and Kuroo fist bump an wait impatiently.

An MC comes out on stage to introduce. “How are all you gorgeous people doin’ tonight.” There’s a bunch of woo’s and yea’s coming from the crowd. “I won’t take up too much of your time, so first up we got Taro-” the crowd screams, you and Kuroo are among them. “Alright settle down, he’s performing four songs for you today. Then The Jackals will come in as your main set.”

Everyone claps and waits for the MC to finish. “Without further ado... make some noise for TARO!”

You and Kuroo are screeching, clapping your hands together. Taro comes out in some chains, a mesh shirt which has everyone going apeshit, sneakers, and a bucket hat. Everyone’s still screaming by the time he gets to the mic. “Alright, shut up you fuckers.”

Everyone laughs and a few people scream ‘we love you Taro!’

He laughs into the mic and nods. “Yea I love you guys too. Now let’s get this going, what song are we thinking?”

Your mouth moves before you could even think. “PSYCHO!” You screech, but then get embarrassed after realizing how loud you were.

He laughs again, grabbing the mic off the stand and squats down in front of you. “Fitting, since you’re all a bunch of little psychos.” He rubs the top of your head with his hand and gets up. “Let’s get it.” 

You die internally because holy shit, Taro touched you. You don’t have time to bask in it though because his number starts and you and Kuroo need to go crazy for it. He starts, “Yea my AP goin’ psycho...”

Taro’s numbers are to die for and everyone is having a great time. Before you know it, he’s on his last song of the night. “It’s been fun you guys, so let’s end it with Stay. Also seems fitting.”

You want to cry because that’s all you wanted. When he gets to the chorus, you and Kuroo yell, “but don’t count on me to stay!”

Taro finishes up and you’re sad to see him go. “Thank you Chicago! I’ll miss my hometown. We’ll see each other soon.” He winks at the crowd and you all cheer him off.

The MC comes back as the people behind him change up the set. “Alright, and our main set. Everyone, please welcome in The Jackals!” Mila is jumping and yelling while Kenma is just clapping, but he has this big smile on his face. You go to tie your shoes since someone stepped on your laces and undid them.

When The Jackals come up, the lead singer steps in front of the mic while the other three set up. “Hey everyone, if you don’t know,” you recognize the voice and you stand back up so quickly only to see the lead singer, the man you talked to at the bar looking down at you. “I’m Atsumu, the lead singer, that’s Shoyo on guitar, Kiyoomi on bass, and Kotaro on drums.” You stand unmoving, completely lost. How could you not know. “Now, I know we were gonna open with Starboy, but I’ve been convinced to start with Hardest to Love so enjoy this everyone.”

He smiles in your direction, and this does not go unnoticed by your roommate. “Y/n, what in the hell happened.”

You stood there, still shocked. “All I did was make fun of his beer.”

Atsumu starts, “You try with me so many times...” 

Regardless of anything, Atsumu had a wonderful voice that hit every note you could think of. High, low, whatever, he could do it. You didn’t know, but The Jackals knew he was showing off and just smirked to themselves. 

Once he finishes he moves on. “Did you guys like that?” The crowd howls at him making him smile and chuckle. “We’ve got 8 more songs, let’s make this count, yea?” Everyone is excited and pumped up.

You try to enjoy the songs, but how can you when he’s looking at you so intently. You decide to ignore it and have a fun time with your friends.

The last song comes up and it’s Cough Syrup, you haven’t listened to it so you decided to pay attention to the lyrics. It’s a great song, it helps slow down the fast tempo everyone was cheering at and is a great closing number. You make eye contact with Atsumu, a blush appears on your face but you refuse to look away.

Still, it doesn’t help that he’s looking at you with a grin on his face singing into the microphone. You can’t help it that he looks so incredibly attractive while doing it. It’s not your fault. 

The music slows and Atsumu sings the last line, “One more spoon of cough syrup, now woah.” Everyone’s cheering and clapping while the band all gets on one knee and thanks everyone. 

“Thank you Chicago, yer always my best crowd. Just tell Taro that yer all my hometown.” The crowd laughs and claps to the singer, he pushes his hair back with a hand, sweat prominent on his features. “Love ya.”

“We love you!” Everyone yells back at him. He smiles and waves goodbye, then everyone goes on their own way.

Atsumu is still there looking at you, he mouths to you ‘come backstage with your friends.’ You nod, unable to do anything else. “Hey guys, follow me.” They all do without question.

When you get to their room, there’s a man in front of the door. “You are?” He asks.

“Um, I’m y/n, Atsumu said to come back here.” He nods and opens the door for you. It’s all the band members sitting on the couch and Taro, except for Kiyoomi who’s in the shower. 

“Y/n! Hi.” He kisses the side of your cheek to welcome you and you’re taken aback, but don’t say anything of it. “Yer all y/n’s friends?”

Mila is frozen, her dreams coming true all at once. “Mila.” She says pointing to her self. The Jackals and Taro chuckle at her while Atsumu shakes Kuroo’s and Kenma’s hands.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You say nodding your head in their direction. 

Suna gets up and rubs your head. “You’re the psycho girl.” 

“What?” Atsumu asks confused and your cheeks flush bright red.

“She asked me to play Psycho really loud. Good choice by the way.” You thank him for his music and Kuroo begins to engage in conversation with him.

Mila and Kenma somehow get talking to Shoyo and Kotaro in the meantime. “Cat got yer tongue?” Atsumu teases.

You roll your eyes, your previous nervousness fleeing, it’s just something about him. “Please, I was just feeling nervous.”

He chuckles at you. “Did ya like the show?”

“Yea, Taro was great, your voice broke a couple times though.” You tease back. 

“What, there’s no way-” your laugh cuts him off and he pouts. “Not funny.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I think you did great, really. I liked all of the songs.” You’re staring at each other for too long and there’s just something there that you can’t deny. 

He leans in to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Would ya like to come over to my apartment? The guys and I all have our separate apartments.” You don’t want to get too attached to a singer, but you wouldn’t be opposed to it either. A night with him and maybe a little more doesn’t seem like a bad idea at all.

“Alright.” You smile.

A/N: hehehe part two anyone?

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[nthngbxtfanfics]

Be my desire - Kihyun Scenario

How long do I have to be patient with you?

How long should I keep my heart caged?

I want you to be mine, only mine.

Kihyuns gaze landed onto the counter of the cafe. On a woman in her 20s, black attire with an apron hugging her waist. Hair slightly messy after 8 hours of work. His heart started to race, excitement filled his chest. Eyes followed every movement she made, every stranger that catched her attention. His face becoming sour when men surround her presence. When she smiles at their disgusting faces. He wishes so dearly, to have this smile for himself and only, he wishes to be the reason for this change of shape on her lips.

This woman was the only thing on his mind, since the first day she took his order in this newly opened cafe. He simply wanted to explore this new place, but didn’t expected to find his biggest desire.

This desire was you.

Kihyun watched you from his main spot, where he could watch you from the most perfect angle. He just finished his second cup of coffee and waited for the ending minute that signaled your finish of work for that day. To not be too suspicious, Kihyun stood up signaling his leaving. Kihyun knew perfectly well, about all your daily schedules, when you woke up, when your shifts start and when they end. What you do after every shift and today was no different, that’s what he thought first, until he saw your face lit up, when your eyes met his moving form. 

You rounded the counter as fast as you could, trying to catch up on him. Kihyun lifted his face seeing your beautiful smile right in front of him. His eyes widened, when his heart started to beat faster like it’s in a race of time. His chest burning, breathing caught in his throat. Swallowing hard, the heat in his chest transferred to his cheek. He never thought, that you would approach him first, his plan was different. Now he’s anxious, scared that his plan to win you for himself, would fall to pieces in that exact moment.

“Excuse me! Ehm - Hi, my name is Y/N. I noticed you here for a while now. You’ve been spending a lot of time here. My boss is really glad that you visit us so often. They’d like to treat you for something as a ‘Thank you’. And since Christmas is soon, you know? Maybe treat you with a gift.” You fiddled with the hem of your apron. Kihyun saw how nervous you were around him and his body relaxed and a smile creeped up on his face.

I’d like to have you as my gift.

He wished to spell his wish into reality, but tried to cover it up.

“Ah, you don’t have to. I really like this place and it’s already a pleasent gift to be here.”

Those words tasted sour in his mouth. Too much for his liking, but he knew he has to say them. Or it’ll be harder to win you over. His cheesy comment made you giggle. He loves the fact that he was the reason for that sweet sound, coming out of you. The strong force within him, wanting to kiss your lips and make you his was too strong. But he kept himself in place, knowing it would be too soon and you might take everything the wrong way and that’s the least he wanted.

“Well if you think so, my boss might feel a little sad but I hope you wouldn’t mind anyway.”

“Well let’s not make your boss upset. I’ll gladly take anything they give me.” Y/N’s smile grew wider as you lifted your head to look into his eyes. Kihyun had a hard time to keep his excitement at a low level.

“Oh I forgot to ask for your name, that’s so impolite of me. I’m really sorry.” Y/N’s face turned from a smile to a worried expression. Kihyun laughed in return.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t mad. My name is Kihyun, it’s very nice to meet you.” Kihyun stretched out his hand for you to shake it. As you touched his palm, Kihyun couldn’t hold back his wide grin. His palm was tingling from the connection of both your hands. He never felt that before, he knew you were the person he was long yearning for and he wouldn’t let you slip out of his hands so easily now. Unintentionally, his grip on your hand got stronger. Soon he noticed your little nervous laugh and he let go. His hand still warm from your touch, the feeling of your hand still lingers, still fresh.

“I know it might be pretty bold of me now, but I think you’re really cute. I was wondering if you’d like to spent some time together. Watch a movie for example.” Kihyun couldn’t believe his ears. Did he heard right? His face showed obvious disbelieve. He couldn’t form a straight answer, his plan turned a 180 degree. As if it would be so easy to get you, that’s all too easy, there must be something wrong. 

“If you are not interested, it’s ok.” He was awakened by your words and started to panic, finding his voice.

“Wait! No, I mean yes! I’d love to spend some time with you.” your smile returned and his small panic attack stopped immediantly.

“Great! Well maybe tomorrow? I have a day off.” you exclaimed. Kihyun already knew it. He actually planned on meeting you tomorrow by accident and ask to hang out together. But he never imagined to arrange a meeting with you so soon.

“Tomorrow sounds good, I have time though.”

“Cool! Could I have your number? So we could text and arrange some more?” You took out your phone handing it towards him, his smile not leaving one bit, but getting even stronger. Your phone number wasn’t unknown by him and already saved on his phone, but he never used it. He wanted to wait a little longer, he waited for the best opportunity to text you and now you are here, right in front of him, asking for his phone number. His day couldn’t get even better. His fingers worked fast, typing in the numbers and finishing it with the save button and his name on your phone screen. Y/N took the phone back, typing a bit on it. Kihyun felt his phone vibrating in his backpocket, your name plastered over the screen. The light of the screen shined over his face, highlighting his features.

“Now I got your number. I’ll text you then.” He looked back at you.

“Great, ok I need to change real quick. See you tomorrow?” you asked, ready to leave. Kihyun fighted with himself to offer you, to walk you home. He couldn’t, it would be too strange, he doesn’t want to seem suspicious and ruin the moment. Should he wait for you to return and walk you to your bus-stop? Or just end here and leave the cafe?

Leaving the thoughts on his mind, he lifted his head, noticing your missing figure. He looked around, cursing at himself. Until he saw your returning figure, a coat hugging your body and a big scarf around your neck. You looked back at him with a big smiling.

“Where do you live? We could walk together, if you don’t mind. It’s pretty dark outside and I feel a little uneasy walking around alone at this time.” Your surprises didn’t stop and he felt excited. He nodded and threw his coat over his shoulders and wrapping his own scarf around his neck.

“So where do you have to go? I don’t want to be some kind of burden to you.” You both left the cafe and stood in front of it.

You’ll never be a burden to me!

“It’s completely fine, I actually wanted to ask you first. Since it’s pretty late, you never know what will happen if you’d go alone. I don’t want something happening to you.” Your smile grew bigger at his words.

“I actually need to go that way, my bus stops at the station right there.” You pointed at your usual bus stop. Kihyun acted oblivious and followed your pointing finger.

“My bus stops at the same station.” he lied, he knew which buses he needed to take. To be able to go from the same bus-stop as you. He planned everything through and was glad, he could use it now. But it didn’t change the fact that he would take a longer time to reach his own home. He didn’t cared, he since he could spent some more tome with you.

“Really? But I’ve never seen you there.” you questioned.

“I leave earlier than you. I always take the bus at 5pm.” he grew nervous for a short time and relaxed after seeing your knowing look on your face. You both made your way towards the bus-stop.

As you reached your spot, Kihyun studied your features. His eyes roamed over your frame, a small smile broke through his lips. He never saw you that up close. You both always had a certain distance, either a counter or a table. But never did he came as close as now. Your scent of freshly made coffee filled his infected his senses. His eyes landed on your lips, he outlined the plump cushions with his gaze. His pupils became bigger and his eyes darker, the feeling in his chest became stronger. Kihyuns self-control was challenging him and he hated it. He wanted you to be his, now.

“Kihyun-ssi” his dark thoughts got interrupted by your sweet voice, snapping him back to reality. Your smile grew as Kihyun looked into your eyes.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“The us is here.” You pointed at the arrived vehicle, a small giggle escaped through your smile. You were amused by Kihyuns confused expression.

“Oh really, I didn’t noticed it.” His laugh was nervous, he made a fool of himself and he hated it even more. You laughed at his remark and went forward, gesturing him to follow you.

Kihyun tried to shake off this weird feeling in his body and walked up to you. As you entered the bus, you sat down next to each other.

“It’s really nice, to have you next to me. Lately I’ve been not feeling save on my own. I know that we’re complete strangers, but I felt like I could feel save around you.” Kihyun listened to your concern and made sure to take notes within his mind. A smile creeped up on his lips again. “I guess I sound really strange, I’m really sorry I I made you uncomfortable.”

“No it’s fine, it’s natural to feel unsafe alone. To be honest, I kinda feel glad that you feel safe around me.” Kihyun turned his gaze towards you to face you. This time, your eyes were studying the mans face with a smile. Your only response was a small giggle.

A sound Kihyun could always wake up to. His mind went crazy again, imagining all crazy scenarios, where you are his. What he would do for you or what he could do to you. He wanted you and it was clear.

His mind started a new plan to win you over. A plan where you would fall for him, as much as he did for you. A plan where you couldn’t refuse to leave him. A plan where you would stuck onto him, cling onto him. He would be the only person in this world that you needed. No one else.

You are his desire and he will be yours.

next part

#monsta x #monsta x scenario #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagine #monsta x imagines #monsta x oneshot #monsta x oneshots #monsta x reaction #monsta x reactions #monsta x kihyun #kihyun scenario #kihyun scenarios #kihyun imagine #kihyun au #kihyun imagines #kihyun reaction #kihyun reactions #yoo kihyun #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop reaction #kpop reactions

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Caffeine - Dallon Weekes x Reader

Request: For my birthday, can I please please have a Dallon x Reader coffee shop AU with the prompt "I’m worried about your coffee dependency" with Dallon as the barista and the reader as the over worked, over caffeinated customer? Thank you!!!

Word count: 2 375

A/N: Happy birthday to an amazing fellow writer! Everyone go over to @robinrunsfiction and wish her a happy birthday! The poor girl is the one I go to when I want to read something that I don’t want to write myself ;)

With every ringing of the bell above the door, Dallon’s eyes shot over, checking who was entering. He knew it was too early for you to come by, and you were always on time, but he could never help but hope. He was just done preparing a big cappuccino for one of the customers, adding the cocoa power, when the small bell chimed again, and sure enough, as his eyes flickered over to the door this time, he spotted you slipping into the shop.

An involuntary grin made itself onto his face as he handed the cappuccino to the lady who had ordered it, and received the money. And then there you were, next in line. As always you had circles under your eyes, your hair was dishevelled after a long day at work, probably because you had run your hands through it countless times.

It was just after 5pm, you had left the office exactly at five, as Dallon knew, and then, every day, like clockwork, you came over the street into the small shop. And not only once a day. Originally Dallon had gotten to know you from his morning shift, but when he found out that you came in after work as well, he had started preferring the afternoon shifts, since they allowed him more time to talk to you, after all, you had nowhere to be.

Expectantly, hoping your absentminded gaze would finally drift back into reality, he bounced on his heels, and his happy smile faltered a little, as he took your state in. You looked pale, a little as if you were sick. Even during the most stressful times you always had a glow in your eyes, but that was nowhere to find today, and your fingers played around with the hem of your thin jacked.

“Dallon to (y/n),” he eventually asked, snapping you out of your mindless gazing.

Surprised you widened your eyes at the realisation that it was your turn to order, but luckily there was no one behind you who could have gotten impatient.

“Hi,” you whispered with a tired smile, but it was honest.

Your smile was always honest when it came to Dallon. How couldn’t it be?

“Hi,” he greeted back, placing his hands on the counter, and leaning on them. The action brought him a little closer to you, and honestly, every inch that did not separate you from him was gold.

“The usual, I guess,” you finally remembered to order, Dallon smile having thrown you off temporarily.

“The usual it is,” Dallon nodded, and pushed himself away from the counter, starting to prepare the hot beverage.

In the meantime you moved to sit on one of the bar chairs at the counter. It was your favourite spot to sit at, since you could overlook the entire café. The door was within your view, and so were all the tables, in the summer the fan, and in the winter the heater, were pretty close, and you were able to talk to Dallon.

When he strode back to you, carefully balancing the cup of hot coffee, he glanced at you worriedly.

“Bad day,” he asked, putting the cup down in front of you.

You just huffed, and happily picked up the mug, wrapping your cold finger around it. But as you should have known, Dallon was pretty insistent. He looked at you, until you eventually started talking. Damn that man, he was better than any therapist.

“Couldn’t sleep last night, and then we had this really stupid meeting in the morning, and I was just super fidgety all the time,” you explained, “which was horror by the way. And then my boss came with about fifty impossible requests, what I have to do, and I just don’t even know where to start.”

Finally lifting the cup to your face, you took a deep inhale, and closed your eyes contently at the familiar smell. You could hear Dallon shuffle behind the counter, but you did not care. He probably only went to serve and other customer.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much coffee,” he suddenly suggested, his voice being a lot closer than you had expected.

Confused you opened your eyes, taking a tiny sip of the hot drink.

“Why not,” you wondered, tilting your head confused.

“With the amount of caffeine you consume daily it’s not a surprise you don’t sleep, and then you top it off with one of these coffee bombs in the morning, which could kill every normal person… of course you get fidgety.”

He looked at you with his huge blue eyes, concern written all over his face. You were tempted to reach out over the counter, and hug him, trying to make him understand that you were fine, but you refrained from doing it; instead you just shook your head.

“I’m fine Dallon, it’s just the stress,” you tried to calm him down.

But the way he almost slammed his hands down on the counter in front of you, showed that he was far from calm.

“Caffeine is literally a drug; you do know that, right? Just like alcohol and nicotine. And instead of pushing yourself to your limits constantly with the support of this stuff, you should take a step back, and maybe go on holiday sometime. You’re ruining yourself with this behaviour!”

“Well, I’m sorry, Dallon,” you hissed, “Maybe it’s hard for you to understand, but I really need my job, and if I don’t do everything I’m being told to, I’ll get fired. And if caffeine helps me to deal with this pressure, then so be it!”

Rage flared through your veins, and with a burst of energy you jumped off your chair.

“You’re making yourself sick! What use is gonna be a job that kills you, (y/n)? I’m worried about you, don’t you see that?”

“Yeah, but maybe it’s not your place to tell me what to do with my life!”

You regretted the words as soon as they had left your lips, and the hurt expression on Dallon’s face just proved how royally you had fucked up.

Tears stung in your eyes, not only because you had probably ruined the best friendship in your life, but also because you knew Dallon was right. He was right, and you hated him for that. And that was the reason you did not apologize. You were hurt, just like you had hurt him, and you were too proud to admit it. So you turned your back, and left the coffee shop.

Dallon watched you leave, unable to move. He wanted to run after you, tell you that he was only so concerned for you because you meant the world to him, but he was frozen in place. When he eventually snapped back into reality, he brushed his hands over his eyes, to make sure there were no tears anywhere, and turned to clean the coffee machine, a routine that always seemed to calm him down.

“They’ll come around.”

The voice of the customer he had served before you had come in, made him snap his head around. Of course the whole shop had witnessed the scene, but luckily nobody seemed offended. Instead they all looked kind of sorry for him. Great, he thought, definitely very professional of you Dallon.

The lady smiled at him reassuringly, and left a tip in Dallon’s jar, before she left.

You, in the meantime, had stormed out into the evening air, rage still bubbling inside of you, while the words both Dallon and you had spoken fluttered around in your head, like a bunch of scared butterflies. When you had eventually walked down enough streets to wear out your feet, which had happened rather quickly, in these stupid fancy shoes you wore to the office, you stopped. Leaning against a lamppost in the dimming daylight, you turned your face towards the sky. A slight drizzle fell down to your face.

You needed to go back. You needed to talk to Dallon. You needed to apologise. And you needed to do it now, not tomorrow, but today. You would be a mess if this would not be resolved as quickly as possible.

Again the painful realisation came to your mind that Dallon was right, that stressing yourself so much, and then making your body work with caffeine could not be healthy. But that still posed the question why he got so upset over it. He had enough other customers like you, and he just served them, and let them go on their merry way, why did he have to go this crazy when it was about you? A part in your mind tried screaming that it maybe was because he liked you the same way you liked him, but you shook that thought off, and pushed yourself off the lamppost, slowly making your way back to the coffee shop.

It was almost closing time when you arrived at the café, and waiting a few more minutes, until the last guests had left, did not bother you. When they had finally gotten up, you made your way over the street, and slipped in while they were on their way out. Dallon was standing behind the counter, rinsing off a few cups before putting them into the dish washer. Your mug was still standing on the counter where you had been sitting. Had he hoped you would come back?

Not sure what to do, since he had not noticed you entering, you eventually cleared your throat.

“We’re closing in a minute, sorry,” Dallon answered without looking who he was talking to.

“Still got my coffee,” you answered, your voice wavering slightly as you stepped further into the room, walking towards your seat.

Dallon shot around, taking you in quickly before he walked over to your seat and took the cup, pouring the contents into the sink.

“Hey,” you were about to protest, but Dallon shook his head.

“No more coffee for you,” he decided, but his voice was lacking the usual cheerful tone you were used to.

“Can we talk,” you asked, walking to your seat anyway, and sitting down by the counter.

Dallon did not answer. Instead he grabbed two cups from the shelf and started working on preparing drinks for both of you.

“You were right, okay,” you told him, while watching him work, “I shouldn’t be pushing myself like this, and especially not with artificial help.”

Dallon mumbled something under his breath, and you could have sworn it was something along the lines of “Damn right.”

“And I’m sorry I got so upset about all this, I just-,“ you looked down on your hands which were folded in your lap, “I didn’t want to hear it, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong.”

Wordlessly Dallon placed a huge mug with a soft brown, steaming, sweet smelling drink in front of you.

“What’s that,” you wondered, looking up at him.

“Hot cocoa with vanilla and cinnamon,” he answered, wrapping his hands around his own cup, and taking a deep breath, inhaling the delicious smell, “always helps me to calm down.”

Slowly he walked out from behind the counter, and sat down on the chair next to you. You had never sat like this before, and not really certain what to you, you just took a sip of the cocoa. It tasted like heaven.

“I’m sorry too, I overstepped my boundaries,” Dallon apologised.

“No, that’s fine. Someone had to tell me eventually,” you sighed, “and hey, if I wouldn’t know you were right, I wouldn’t have reacted like that.”

Playfully you bumped your knee against Dallon’s, but instead of smiling, he just turned to you, still a frown on his face.

“I’m worried about you,” he told you seriously, “That’s why I got so upset when you wouldn’t hear it. I know, like you said, it’s not my place, but… I care about you, and seeing you driving yourself sick like that, it just kills me, you know.”

For a long while you just looked at him. His blue eyes were still filled with sadness, and concern was written all over his face, as if he expected you to run away all over again.

Sighing, you broke eye contact, and took a big sip from the cocoa.

“Well, in that case, I guess I really have to look after myself a little better. ‘cause I couldn’t stand it, if you are down because of me.”

Placing your cup on the counter, you turned to Dallon again.

“I care about you too. I like you, a lot. And- and being criticised by somebody who I look up to and admire so much, it’s just painful. But necessary.”

You pressed your lips together, anxiously waiting for Dallon to say something, to tell you that he liked you too, but not like this, and that even though he cared, he did not care for you like this.

But he did not answer. Instead he thoughtfully placed down his cup as well, and gently placed his warm hand at the side of your face. Following an instinct you leant into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. He was not mad, that was at least something.

A moment later you felt his lips on yours, but just for a second, and surprised you opened your eyes, finding Dallon was finally smiling again. It was a soft smile, a loving one, which made you heart warm up and jump happily.

“From now on no coffee in the afternoon anymore,” he decided, “otherwise you’ll never be able to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, but only if you make this delicious cocoa for me instead,” you told him smiling, and reached over to brush a strand of his dark hair out of his forehead.

Pleased you noticed how he immediately leant into the small touch.

“That’s something I can live with,” he grinned.

“Good, then it’s a deal,” you nodded, making him giggle.

“Ya, it is,” he agreed, “And just for the protocol-“

You looked up at him, not being able but getting a tad bit anxious about the serious tone he suddenly had back in his voice.

“I like you too, a lot.”

And with that he kissed you again.

#dallon weekes x reader #dallon weekes x reader fluff #dallon weekes fluff #dallon weekes imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #AU #COFFEE SHOP AU #cute #fluff #fluffy #angst

[sunsetscurving]

Oh, Cruel Fate (Enemies to Lovers AU)

Ch. 16

ao3 link

The Demaurys and the Lallemants had been enemies for over one hundred years. And when Lucas first meets Eliott, he hates him with his whole heart even without knowing him, blaming him and his family for his life which is slowly falling apart. But when they are forced to live alongside in the same surrounding, something is changing between them. And this scares Lucas more than anything else.

Lucas was in love.

And he lived for that feeling.

“You need to be quiet”, whispered Lucas and chuckled quietly, as Eliott was just trying to fit his tall body through Lucas’ window. They had been sneaking into each other’s houses for the past days, mostly Lucas into Eliott’s house. But when Eliott heard about Lucas’ father being at home, Lucas alone with him, he didn’t spend another second at home and went over to Lucas.

“I’m trying my best, your window is just so damn tiny”, answered Eliott with a hushed voice while finally plopping into Lucas’ room.

They were in each other’s arms as if they had been departed for years when in reality it were only a little more than 24 hours.

The last days had been like a dream – Eliott and Lucas getting closer and closer with every passing hour and Lucas finally allowed himself to be… himself. To be real. He didn’t fake anything while being with Eliott and it felt like he could breathe again after being under water for a long, long time. Lucas was still surprised by how much he already longed for Eliott after a short period of time, how addicted you could get to a human.

But Eliott was Lucas’ favorite drug.

“How are you? Did he hurt you?”, asked Eliott quietly, kissing Lucas’ head softly while holding him. Lucas snuggled into Eliott’s arms and closed his eyes, breathing him in.

“No, I didn’t get out of the room since hours.”

“Good.”

Lucas smiled a bit and looked up to his taller boy.

“Are you going to defend me, my noble knight?”

Eliott laughed and kissed Lucas’ nose, the younger boy giggling at this natural gesture.

“Of course, I will! You saw that I could break noses. I can also break other things.”

“Oh, I would love to see that”, said Lucas with a smirk and laid his head back, looking at Eliott with sultry eyes.

“Come here, I’m going to protect you.” Eliott grinned and pulled Lucas more into his arms, both of them stumbling back on the bed at that movement.

And here and now, Lucas was happy. Utterly happy. And all of that thanks to his actual enemy who hadn’t let him go, who hadn’t accepted the fate and twisted it.

.

His friends realized that something happened with Lucas. That his eyes were glowing again, his smile brighter. And whenever he spotted a certain person at school, his cheeks were tinted in a deep red. His friends mocked him for this “stranger” who made Lucas react like that. Every time, Lucas spotted Eliott on the court yard, he turned around to look at someone else, so his friends would never see that it was Eliott who made his heart beat faster.

Only Yann knew about all of this.

And every single time Lucas blushed, Yann was grinning from one ear to the other.

They hadn’t talked properly after their conversation one week ago, but Lucas told Yann that everything was good. That they would find a way to make everything work. But for now, Eliott and Lucas kept their relationship a secret. Lucas already reached a point where he wanted to shout his affection for Eliott from every rooftop but that had to wait.

There would always be a time and place for it.

“Where are we going this weekend?”, asked Basile as all of them were walking to the bus station.

“Is there a party going on?”

“There is always a party going on, Arthur”, answered Yann and all of them were laughing. Lucas’ phone made a ringing sound, announcing a new message. He fished his phone out of his pocket, the conversation between his friends shifting into the background.

He frowned as he saw the anonymous number.

Lucas fell a bit back, walking behind the group of his friends now, opening the message.

If you want to know something about your beloved Eliott, you should meet me tomorrow at 5pm in the park behind your street.

Lucas stopped in his tracks, rereading the message again and again.

Thousand questions were roaming through his mind.

How did they get my number?

What do they know?

How can they know about my relationship to Eliott?

And—

“Lucas?”

Lucas looked up, the sounds rushing in all at once again, his heart still beating frantically loud in his ears.

Yann was coming towards him, looking at him seriously and with worry in his eyes.

“Are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

Lucas took a deep breath and gave a tiny nod.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Lucas nodded again.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay”, Lucas said while forcing a tiny smile. “Really.”

His friend always knew when something was wrong and they actually agreed on not having any more secrets. But this was something Lucas had to figure out on his own, he already dragged Yann too much into this.

And Lucas was not sure how all of that would end.

He only knew that he had to meet this stranger tomorrow, making clear that he couldn’t give a lesser damn about any rumor which was told about Eliott.

.

Lucas was nervous as he walked from his house towards the park in their neighbor street. He didn’t know what he should expect, he didn’t know who to find there. Lucas told Eliott nothing about this meeting, this would only raise unnecessary worries.

It was already starting to get dark as Lucas entered the park, only a few people roaming around. He walked slowly, his hands in the pocket of his jacket, looking around for any face or anyone approaching him. Suddenly, he saw something in the corner of his eyes. Something like a light… Lucas frowned and walked into that direction, sure that this was some kind of sign for him.

As Lucas rounded a tree, he froze in his tracks.

No.

“You”, he snarled and started to take a step back, suddenly having the tree at his back. His opposite started to smile, a smile which looked so familiar to Eliott’s and was so different yet.

“Good evening, Monsieur Lallemant”, said Paul, Eliott’s oldest brother. Lucas had seen him before in the media. Eliott told Lucas that he had a good connection to his siblings, especially Paul. But Lucas always knew that Paul was playing some kind of game, only using his little and good brother Eliott for his advantage.

“What is all of this about?”, asked Lucas with a dead-calm voice, something like panic spreading in his body.

This is not good. Not good at all.

“I just want to tell you something about my brother. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Paul was spreading his arms innocently. But Lucas knew better than to trust this innocent gesture.

“I don’t think that I care about anything you have to say about Eliott.”

“Oh, are you sure about that?”

Lucas went silent, looking at Paul. He was thinking: He could either run away and always wonder about what Paul wanted to tell him, or he could stay, listen to him, and forget about all of this bullshit which was going to be spilled out of Paul’s mouth soon enough.

“Well then, go ahead. Nothing you will tell me about Eliott will change my opinion about him.”

Paul apparently knew about their relationship and it made Lucas even more anxious. Maybe Eliott told Paul about them, being all excited and happy that they finally found a way to end this feud and for Eliott to feel loved and happy. Maybe Eliott trusted his brother too much.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why Eliott came of all schools to yours?”

Lucas frowned.

“Because his parents wanted him to have the best education possible. Because his parents wanted him to be in a direct competition with me.”

Paul laughed out, crossing his arms while coming closer to Lucas. Lucas felt the sudden urge to flee, but he held his ground.

“Oh, Lucas. Are you really that stupid? I actually thought of you as a clever boy.”

Lucas was starting to breath heavily, his hands curling into fists.

“No, Lucas. This is not the reason why Eliott was sent to your school”, continue Paul, now standing closely in front of Lucas.

Paul looked into his eyes, his lips forming into an even brighter smile and Lucas felt sick.

“He was supposed to spy on you. And that is what he did.”

Lucas’ world suddenly stopped to spin for a second.

No.

“You are lying”, hissed Lucas while his whole body started to tremble involuntarily.

“Why should I lie about this? And how should I then know about your mother being in hospital? How should I then know that your father nearly beat her to—”

“SHUT UP!”, screamed Lucas and his fist connected with Paul’s jaw before he could even think. Eliott’s brother stumbled back, holding his face with one hand, still wearing that smile which made Lucas shiver with disgust.

“Eliott told us everything. And he still does. You are nothing to him. Just some figure in a big game.”

Lucas felt something burning in his eyes and his lip quivered.

Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed.

“Well, it seems that your opinion about Eliott may have changed after all.”

“Shut up”, Lucas whispered again.

“We all hate you and your rotten family. Did you really thought that—”

“Shut the fuck up or I swear to god.”

Lucas was losing control. He realized how everything seemed to shift around him, how everything he knew, everything he learned in the past weeks, everything that happened was a lie. He was breathing fast, looking around himself as if he didn’t recognize the world around him anymore.

Which was the case.

Everything Eliott did and said was a lie.

Lucas was being used.

Used to the advantage of the Demaurys.

And I was really so dumb to trust Eliott.

He could punch himself in the gut right there and then.

Paul was coming towards him again, his lips were moving but Lucas couldn’t understand a word. He was captured in pictures of his mind, memories of the passing days and hours where he talked and talked with Eliott and was opening up to him, telling him everything about himself and—

He needed to get out of here. Away from Paul. Away from everything connected with Eliott.

And before he could think of doing something else, he was running. Running so fast that his lungs were on fire after some seconds.

But he didn’t care.

The physical pain was very welcome and nothing compared to his broken heart.

#i hope you will all forgive me one day #i know #this is not okay #i hate myself for this #skam france #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #skam france fanfic #skam france fanfiction #oh cruel fate fanfiction