#i respect it i give it a cordial nod from across the street

[kaylans-imagines]

0. i hate her

pairing: peter b. parker x fem! reader

synopsis: in which y/n hates everything about peter parker, especially the way she can’t really hate him

↳ loosely based on the movie with the same title

warnings: cursing, fluff, a generous amount of angst, peter's an asshole, y/n's an asshole, familial death, incarceration. i don't know if there's more.

chapter warnings: cursing, starts off slow, flash.

series masterlist

*gif credits to the rightful owner*

The brisk air of the changing seasons accompanied Peter as he made his way to the school entrance from the train stop. His headphones sat snuggly inside his ears, playing a song that made the usually lonely journey to school less so. Ned didn’t take the same route as he did, so he had no one to talk to or make the trek to school less boring. He didn’t mind it; it gave him time to think and even finish school work. Still, sometimes he wanted someone by his side so he could discuss whatever was on his mind that day or ask questions whenever an assignment didn’t make sense.

The long ride to the school did give him time to people watch. There were times when he would deduce who could be a possible threat. Other times, he would simply look at people and try to figure out their stories without actually talking to them. The old lady who brought her cat onto the subway had severe separation anxiety caused by her estranged son. The man with exhausted eyes who looked like he was on the brink of passing out on his seat had a newborn daughter at home. And Peter was just trying to get to school, along with the other teenager on the subway. He didn’t talk to him, they were on entirely different wavelengths, but there was an understanding between the two of them. Whenever they saw each other, they would nod their heads in greeting. They would always sit one seat away from one another, and if the other was running late, they would wait.

He made his way up the stairs and towards the school, turning up the volume as a way to tune out the sounds of high school that he hated. The cheery rhymes that left the sounds of the cheerleaders to the arguing of students over who was right; he hated them before the bite, and he especially despised them now that he had hypersensitive hearing. Sighing in annoyance, he looked both ways before crossing the street only to rush forward as a car came barreling down the road.

“I swear to god, Y/N!” he heard her sister, Juliette, shriek, “we almost killed him!”

“But we didn’t. If you’re going to complain about my driving, then you can take the bus, Jules,”

“You almost killed someone!” Peter heard her exclaim. He could feel the way Y/N rolled her eyes.

“It’s only Peter,” she stated, making eye contact with him through the rearview as she let students pass, “who cares if he gets slightly scuffled?”

“You have literal issues,” Julie gasped. The car sped down the road, leaving Peter alone with a slightly elevated heart rate and irritation laced in his bones. It was the first day of school, and he nearly got run over. And by his ex-best friend turned enemy at that. He couldn’t wait to complain to Ned.

Their dynamic had changed, and Peter blamed her. They became friends because of Y/N’s grandmother and May in kindergarten. They were two birds of a feather until halfway towards seventh grade when Y/N became snippy and ruined what Peter thought was their perfect friendship. They drifted apart, and he blamed her for it breaking apart. He watched as she became someone he didn’t know anymore and left him behind. He just didn’t think it was fair for her to act self-righteous when she ruined their relationship.

“You okay, Pete?” Ned questioned as he fell into step with Peter, who was fuming with irritation.

“Yeah, just almost got run over by Midtown’s resident ice bitch,” he gritted. Ned nodded in response. He was friends with both Peter and Y/N once upon a time. Still, after everything she had put them through and the abrupt way she ended their friendship, he sided with Peter and subsequently lost a friend. He figured it was for the best. He wasn’t as resentful as Peter was—his friendship with Y/N hadn’t been built in kindergarten—but he still didn’t appreciate her actions.

“Oh,” he nodded in understanding, “are you okay at least?”

“Yeah, but it did sorta ruin my mood,” Peter confessed. He was having a pretty good morning until his reflexes were put to the test. He woke up on the right side of the bed and had time to eat breakfast with May before she went to work. The walk towards the subway station was nice; he said hi to everyone he usually greeted and even got a muffin from the lady with the three-year-old daughter. Then the subway wasn’t as busy as it usually was, so he wasn’t squashed next to the man with the foul body odor and could actually sit down. All of that happiness came crashing down the second he saw her in her car, looking unapologetic for nearly killing him and then dismissing her sister for chastising her.

“Well, get happy, my arachnid friend, because I heard some exciting news,” Ned smiled, poking him on the arm as they walked to their first class.

“What?”

“You’re top of our class, which means you’re a shoo-in for valedictorian,” Ned said excitedly. Peter grinned at that. All of his hard work would finally be noticed and celebrated. He had been working on greeting his class for four years, doing extracurriculars, and taking on extra projects for grade boosts. Sometimes he even stayed after school to help his teachers grade papers or help the librarian sort the books back into their respective spots on the shelves. It would all be worth it in the end after he finally reached the goal he had set for himself his freshman year.

There was a snag in his plans. While he may have been top of his class, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be pushed from his place. Y/N Y/L/N was the smartest girl at Midtown. She was everything he wasn’t. She was popular—if the excessive amounts of clubs she was part of were any indication. She was social—everyone talked about the interactions they had with Midtown’s princess. She was everywhere, and nothing Peter was. She was the head of the planning committee, and everyone knew that any school party planned by Y/N Y/L/N never disappointed. Peter couldn’t compete. He found peace in knowing that he was slightly better than her at academics.

The two continued walking in silence, content with the atmosphere they had created after finding out that Peter would finally have something go his way for once. He figured it was the least the universe could do for him. He had lost both parents before he could make memories with them, then he lost his best friend, and then he got bitten by a spider that changed his life; for better or for worse, he didn’t know. Being valedictorian wouldn’t take away the hurt the world inflicted on him, but it would make him feel somewhat better.

With a skip in his step, he walked into class with a grin so large, he didn’t think anything could bring him down. Of course, he thought wrong. His English teacher had to make a day he felt he could turn around into one he wished would end faster.

“It’s about time you all had a project—the topic of discussion, poetry. You will be partnered up and tasked with reading and creating your own poems by the end of the month,” she paused, waiting for her class to stop looking at one another and whispering amongst themselves, “I’ve already chosen your partners, so it would do you all some good to stop getting your hopes up and listen.”

With that, the high schoolers shifted in their seats and gave their attention back to their teacher. She was good at pairing up students who were cordial with one another and worked well together. Friendships usually sparked from her partnering, sometimes even relationships. So Peter, and the rest of the class, weren’t as annoyed as they wanted to be. They knew she wouldn’t let them down. Peter waited eagerly as she listed off students who would be working together. He hoped he got paired up with someone who matched his work ethic or someone he got along with.

“Peter Parker, you will be with Y/N Y/L/N,” and just like that, he hated English class and lost all faith in his teacher. He looked across the room to where the said girl was seated. She was writing in her planner—Peter was sure she was planning Ms. Ingrid’s death—but she looked up when her name was called. She turned her head and met Peter’s eyes, unamused and bored. She shook her head and looked at her planner once again. Peter took that as a sign to do the same and focus on anything other than his rising anger.

Peter watched as everyone moved to meet their partners, many of them happily talking to one another. He was stubborn. He decided that if she wasn’t going to make an effort to push aside whatever hatred she had towards him and talk to him for the sake of their grades, he wasn’t going to. He was going to sit in his seat and read a poem from the packet his teacher had handed out. Just because he had a lousy partner didn’t mean his grade had to suffer. He would complete the project by himself if he had to.

“Mister Parker, last I checked, you were to be working with Miss Y/L/N,” Miss Ingrid quipped as she walked to Peter’s desk with a teasing smile.

“Actually, Miss, I was hoping I could talk to you about that?” He asked. He liked Miss Ingrid. She was understanding and compassionate, and she didn’t talk down to her students as if they were children.

“Something wrong, Peter?” she asked, concerned. Peter felt bad. He knew he was petty, and his favorite teacher didn’t need to be pulled down to his level. But he couldn’t bring himself to work with someone who didn’t want to work with him. That usually meant he was left to do the work by himself and watch the other person still get credit. It infuriated him so much he would rather do the project himself from the start.

“Yeah, um, I can’t work with Y/N,” he muttered, smiling at her with an embarrassed smile. Peter admitted it sounded stupid and childish when said aloud, but he had his reasons.

“And, pray tell, Peter, why not?”

“I just don’t think we would work well together,” he confessed. Seeing the look on her face, Peter was quick to defend himself more, “and I just don’t want to do the work for someone else and have them get credit for doing nothing. So, if it’s alright with you, Miss Ingrid, I would like to work on this on my own.” He was practically begging. Hoping she would agree.

“I’m sorry, Peter, but this is a partner project. To lessen the workload,” she sighed, “besides, I don’t think you have anything to worry about with Y/N; she’s very good at doing her share.” She stood up with those final words and tapped the table before standing up and sending him a smile. He sighed, putting his head down and looking at his desk in annoyance. He looked up when a book landed on his desk. Closing his eyes to keep himself from exploding at whoever shattered his tranquility, he was met with eyes he used to find joy looking into. Now, he never wanted to look into them ever again.

“We’re partners. I don’t like it, you don’t like it, but we have to do it otherwise, our grades will plummet, and you can’t afford that if you want to be valedictorian. So, we’re going to push our difference aside for this one project and do it, so we never have to talk to again,” she said curtly.

That left no room for argument, which caused Peter to nod his head in agreement. She was right; he couldn’t afford to lose the one thing he was looking forward to being. Sighing deeply, he motioned for her to sit down and opened the book she threw on his desk. She took a seat beside him and opened another poetry book, focusing on the words written on the paper and trying to plan their poem out. They had to get a good grade; she didn’t want him to blame her for something else.

Despite his annoyance and hatred towards her, he couldn’t help but glance up from the book he was reading. Of course, he had seen her around, it was hard to ignore one of the most known girls in the school, but he had never taken the time to admire her. His anger and betrayal kept him from doing so. She still had the same gleeful look in her eyes and the confident aura around her. Time had done her well. She had lost her kidlike features, and it was evident that she had matured. He would be a liar if he said she wasn’t pretty, and even that didn’t truly justify it.

When the bell signaled the end of class, Peter quickly grabbed his belongings and left the classroom. He didn’t stop to wait for anyone, much less Y/N. Their only interactions would be in the English room, a controlled space where she couldn’t kill him for so much as breathing in her direction. Walking towards his locker, he heard the noises of people as they navigated the busy halls of the school. Stopping at his locker with a sigh, he leaned his head on the cool metal. The day had been long, and he shrill had six other classes to go to.

A tap on his shoulder made him pick up his head. Y/N stood in front of him, bouncing on her feet as she played with her fingers.

“You left before I could ask when you can meet up. The faster we get this done, the faster we can stop being around one another,” she quipped. “I’m free on Friday after school.”

“I’m not. I have the Stark internship,”

She rolled her eyes at his response, “okay and? We need to get this done so we can go back to never speaking to each other. I’m sure Tony Stark will understand that you need to take one day off to do a school project.”

“Not happening. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re not worth losing the internship over,” he jibed. He missed the look of hurt that flashed on her face. She shook her head and scoffed.

“Well, we need to get this done. Either we work on this stupid project on Friday, or we’re both failing,” she reminded before walking away. Peter groaned and banged his head on the now open door. He ignored the looks he got from his locker neighbors and kept his head buried in the empty space. Friday’s were the days he went into the Avenger’s compound and actively worked in the lab with Tony after he finished his Spider-Man duties; the last thing he wanted to do was infect the compound with her hatred and bad vibes.

He didn’t want to invite her, but he had been working on something with Tony for the past two weeks that he needed to finish. He figured he could get some work done while someone gave her a tour around the facility—probably Steve. He was easy to convince—then he would work on the English project with her and beg father time to go faster. She was right; the quicker they finished their work, the faster he could go back to hating her. With another groan, he picked up his head and closed his locker, rushing after Y/N and grabbing her by the wrist when he caught her before she slipped into her next class.

“Friday. We’ll meet after school in the parking lot and go to the Avenger’s facility. You can drive, right?” she nodded and pulled her hand out of his grip, glaring at him.

“Don’t ever grab me like that again,” she sneered, “but fine, whatever. I have to drop Jules off at home first though, is that gonna be a problem, Peter?” He knew she wasn’t asking him.

“No, whatever,” she nodded curtly and walked in, not sparing him a glance. He shook his head and walked away. Anger seeped into his bones, and annoyance clouded his head. The following weeks were going to be torture. He just knew. There was nothing worse than being forced to work with someone the person despised.

“Hey, Penis Parker!” there are worse things, apparently. He breathed out through his nose and turned around, meeting his eyes. He knew if he ignored Flash, he wouldn’t give up. He was relentless, and his voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

“What, Flash?” he ground out. Flash skidded to a stop beside him with a sick smile on his face.

“I heard from a little birdie that you were partnered up with Midtwon’s resident Princess,” he started.

“Yeah, so?” he questioned. He wanted out of the conversation as soon as possible. He didn’t want to talk to his bully about his enemy. That didn’t sound like a fun Tuesday.

“So, you can help me,”

“One, why would I help you with anything?” he questioned, “and two, I’m going to regret asking, but what could I possibly help you with?”

“Because I have something you might like, and you’re going to help me get Jules Y/L/N to go to the Fall Dance with me,” Peter paused in his step and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with me being partners with Y/N? Can’t you just ask Jules?”

Flash snorted, “you’re an idiot, Parker. You don’t just ask the Jules Y/L/N out, okay? Everyone knows that Y/N tells her every negative thing about the guys at Midtown to keep her uninterested and that they’re always together.” He stated.

“I’m still not sure where I fall into this or what you could possibly offer me in return,”

“I’m glad you asked,” Peter rolled his eyes but continued listening, “if you can get Y/N to, I don’t know, fall in love with you so she eases off her ‘I hate the men at Midtown’ rhetoric, then I can swoop in and take Jules to the dance without a hitch.”

“And what do I get in return?”

“Two hundred bucks does wonders for the poor, no?” Flash snarked.

“Three hundred, and you’ve got yourself a deal, Eugene,” Peter smirked. Flash blinked in anger but nodded his head anyway, reaching his hand out and shaking it. Flash walked away and left Peter in the empty hallway, rethinking everything he had agreed to. It was cruel and harsh. Sure, Y/N had stopped being his friend and became a bitch towards him, but he would be playing with someone’s feelings. Then again, three hundred dollars could help May with the bills, and it would be retribution for all the shit Y/N had put him through.

He was going to do it, and he wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty for it. Because it was her, and she deserved to feel some of the pain she had put him through.

next

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[jungblue]

aphrodite in war | 01

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: comedy, fluff, angst, eventual smut / greek life, fake dating, roommates, lovers to enemies and back to lovers au

word count: 11,022

description: Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle... Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

note: here is an audio post of a beautiful song with lyrics inspired by AiW, which was written by one of my lovely readers!

→ part 02

Hostility bleeds deep. The rivers of resentment collide violently as they carve a divide so saturated in disdain between the parties involved that you don’t even need to be told that there is something more to the story. It doesn’t need to be said out loud, but is just instinctively felt.

You didn’t need to be told that the ominous house at the end of street was sketchy and should be avoided at all cost; you just knew it. You didn’t need to be told that there was bad blood between the guy and girl whose jaws suddenly stiffened as their lips transformed into a firm, straight line when they caught sight of each other at a party; you just knew it — And you most certainly didn’t need to be told that there was an absolute war brewing at the end of Greek Drive between the Tri Delts and Lambdas; you just fucking knew it.

In the beginning, their rivalry was small. It was simple antics such as egging each other’s houses or fucking around with the letters that they so proudly displayed on their lawns. But then it turned a bit more intense. Egging the houses turned into spray-painting them and fucking with the letters on their lawns turned into completely trashing each other’s lawns. It was because of this that the once harmless pranks turned infamous. Everything that happened between their houses had constantly been circulated around campus for the past two years, or at the very least among their Greek counterparts… Which was probably how the two newly inducted presidents of Delta Delta Delta and Lambda Phi Epsilon, on the very first week of their final year in college, found themselves sitting in the office of a much higher power than their own titles — The president of their university; a single word spilling past his lips that had their stomachs twisting.

“Suspension!?” They both yelled in disbelief.

It was a word no organization wanted to hear. It branded your chapters with a shame that would be painted across the local news stations and even across the country. The lines would blur, only to lump them in with those terrible hazing stories that constantly flooded the media.

“P-president Kwon,” Jungkook finally stuttered out after a moment of coming to terms with the seriousness of the situation they were being faced with. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise the very... minor pranks that go on between our houses are probably much less problematic than what you’re thinking.”

“Mr. Jeon, do you think that we would threaten something of such dramatic action without several instances of confirmed proof?” President Kwon asked in a clipped tone as he leaned forward in his chair.

You could see the way that Jungkook blanched next to you, clearly not expecting this harsh treatment from President Kwon. Lambda Phi Epsilon happened to be President Kwon’s former fraternity, so it was well known that there was a good relationship there. However, in this moment you could make out nothing except for a glaring, red warning shining off the president’s ice-cold eyes.  

“I — no, sir,” Jungkook whispered, dropping his head slightly to hide the sudden flush of red that was rushing to his face.

“It is more embarrassing than I can possibly describe to the two of you, receiving dozens upon dozens of phone calls and emails over the incidents involving your organizations. Garbage littering every inch of your front yards, obscene images drawn onto your houses, several instances of animal control having to be called due to rodents being set free in the house as a… as a prank? All of this is happening while visits from prospective students and their parents are being conducted. Donors who help this school are wandering the campus and seeing it. Tell me, did the incidents I just mentioned not actually transpire, Mr. Jeon? Ms. Y/L/N?”

The air was so stiff that you barely managed a shaky inhale in order to respond to the juvenile antics being laid out before you. “No, th-they did transpire, sir. And I don’t know what to say besides that I’m so, so sorry that we’ve embarrassed the university this way.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, President Kwon’s relentless glare of disappointment cutting you through and through.

“Yes, so completely sorry,” Jungkook added.

Nothing was said for a few moments after that. It seemed President Kwon wanted to make the two of you squirm for everything that you had done, and it was definitely working. Every movement made you feel self-conscious, the judgement permeating the office air felt as if it were sticking to your skin.

“I know that what we’ve done is completely unacceptable, President Kwon,” You began, not being able to take the silence anymore. “But I promise if you give us just one more chance, we’ll clean up our acts. No more pranks, just cordial neighbors. As the new presidents of our chapters this year, we’ll make sure the members understand that this behavior isn’t something that will be tolerated anymore.”

Jungkook was nodding his head next to you in agreeance. But once again the room was plunged into silence. It was honestly torture, sitting there under such scrutiny as someone held something so dear to you in the palm of their hand. It would break your heart if the suspension actually went through… Considering it was yours and Jungkook’s fault that tensions had gotten to where they were in the first place. The bad blood between the two of you had seeped into the minds of your members as well, which was ultimately how it got so ugly. But it had gotten especially bad this year now that you were the respective presidents of each of your houses and had allowed things to escalate further. Harsh feelings between two people couldn’t do much damage, but when it was dozens versus dozens, well that was when things got messy.

Eventually though you found yourself being pulled back to reality. President Kwon cleared his throat, the sound making your heart stutter in your chest as you prepared yourself for the worst.

“You’re exactly right. It won’t be tolerated any longer.” He paused for a moment, probably for the added effect of letting anxiety seize its way around your lungs. “Probation for the next three months. One more incident and it’s over. Do you understand?”

At that there was a simultaneous sigh of relief from you and Jungkook as the looming consequence faded… At least for now.

“Thank you so much, President Kwon.” Jungkook stood from his chair, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “I promise we won’t mess this up.”

You lifted yourself up from your chair as well, following his lead. “Yes, we promise.”

“I hope that’s true,” Is all President Kwon responded with as he led the two of you towards the door of his office. “Take care.”

With rather mumbled and rushed goodbyes you exited his office, the two of you shuffling quickly down the hallway until you were sure you were out of earshot. Both of you stopped as you turned the corner, insults already resting on the tips of your tongues.

“This is all your fucking fault!” You yelled in a hushed whisper.

“My fault!?” He whispered back, equally as intense. “You’re the one who started this shit, Y/N. No one would even be fighting if you hadn’t opened your mouth to your friends.”

“I was just venting to them! I had no idea that they would go and actually do something about it. And it was a harmless prank. They planted fucking flowers in front of your house for god’s sake, and your loser friends retaliated by digging holes in our yard. You guys are the ones who escalated it, and now it’s this out of control thing that’s going to get our chapters suspended!” Your chest was rising and falling, anger boiling inside of your blood. You had never even partaken in any of the antics that had gone on between the two houses nor had you baited any of your members into participating.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, tongue pressing at the inside of his cheek. “You know what? It’s whatever. We’ve been arguing about this for two years now, so I’m not expecting you to be reasonable any time soon.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, the painful reminder of how long this had been going on searing a deep cut across your chest. But it was like Jungkook had said, this had been going on for a long time and there was no point in arguing about who was right, because it wasn’t as if it actually mattered. So instead, you just didn’t respond. You stared at him for a moment, sneer fading into this sad downward turn of your lips. And surprisingly you watched the way his expression softened as well. His brows were furrowing a little less, his jaw not as hard and brooding.

You gave him a tiny nod before you turned away and headed towards the exit. It was a few seconds before you heard his footsteps start to follow you. Every time his sneakers would squeak against the linoleum floor behind you, it felt like this tiny pressure was beginning to build at the base of your throat. You weren’t sure why you still got these feelings of… longing, even after all of this passed time. It was pathetic. Jungkook apparently didn’t long for anything from back then, so why did you?

Eventually you were able to breathe a little clearer once you pushed your way through the exit and away from the tight and tense space of faculty meetings and suspension threats. The fresh air filled your rattled lungs — too bad it was murky and humid beneath the gray storm clouds that were currently drowning the campus in a depressing drizzle.

“Goddammit,” You muttered beneath your breath.

You didn’t drive here since this building had been so close to your last class of the day. The Tri Delt house was about a ten minute walk from here, so it looked like you needed to get going before the light sprinkle of rain turned into a thunderstorm. You were about to step out from underneath the overhead of the roof and down the steps when you felt a light tug of someone pulling at the back of the belt loop on your jeans. 

“Do you need a ride?” Jungkook asked before you had even turned around to fully face him. His expression was neutral. It didn’t seem annoyed or concerned, but he had always been good at hiding his emotions like that.  

Of course you didn’t want to walk home in the rain, but sitting in a confined space with Jungkook after you’d both just gotten done yelling at one another didn’t seem like the greatest time either. But in the end, you decided that a few minutes wouldn’t kill you. “Yeah, I guess,” You whispered, motioning for him to go ahead so you could follow. His car was parked in one of the first spots at the bottom of the steps. You were both silent as you opened the doors and climbed inside.

It was weird. You hadn’t been in Jungkook’s car in years. You watched him pull out of the parking space, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning against the center console. It felt all too familiar. You blew a heady sigh past your lips, hands wringing in your lap. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed, the tension between you and him never seemed to lessen. It was a constant, palpable stiffness in the air.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get them to stop fighting?” Jungkook finally asked once they turned onto Greek Drive, giving some mild relief to the strain that the two of you were so highly aware of.

“If suspension doesn’t do it, then I honestly don’t know what would.”

He nodded, seeming to agree. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll cut it out.”

“Yeah, they can’t be that dumb—” However, your words seemed to disintegrate along your tongue as the car approached the Lambda and Tri Delt houses that stood side by side.

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook muttered, pulling into the driveway which currently had a Lambda named Jimin running down it towards his truck that was completely covered in saran-wrap and a laughing Tri Delt named Joy who was holding said saran-wrap.

“Get back here and take this shit off my truck right now!” You heard Jimin yell.

“Nope, I’m good.” She smiled, shrugging and taunting him as she jogged away.

“This… This might be harder than we thought,” You said.

Jungkook rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes closed. “Yeah, way fucking harder.”

---------

It was several mass group texts later, demanding that every Lambda and Tri Delt come to their houses immediately, that all forty-two members of the combined organizations who actually lived in-house finally arrived… Yeah, there was no way that this could go terribly wrong or anything… Right?

You and Jungkook stood in front of the members as they gathered on the grassy area that separated your two houses. As expected there were dozens of mumbled conversations transpiring, all speculating on what the hell was going on here. You looked to Jungkook, giving him a nod to tell him that they should start.

He cleared his throat, clapping his hands together, resulting in large boom that got everyone’s attention. “All right, listen up. We have something important we need to discuss.”

“Jungkook, why the hell are the Tri Delts here?” A Lambda named Yuta yelled out.

“Because we can be, asshole.” It was Jennie.

“Who’re you calling an asshole?” Taehyung asked, even though he had nothing to do with it.

“Your dickhead friend,” Sana responded, again even though it had nothing to do with her.

And then Chanyeol chimed in, followed by Momo, which then got escalated by Johnny and continued by Dahyun. After that you lost track of who was arguing because it just became a giant clusterfuck of people yelling and this was the perfect example of how this entire war started — people getting involved in the business of others that didn’t even concern them.

You started rubbing at your temples, fingernails digging into your palms. This was enough. “Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, a loud echo that reverberated through the air and hushed everyone into silence. “This is why you’re all here.” You motioned towards them.

“What do you mean?” Someone asked from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Me and Y/N had a meeting with President Kwon today,” Jungkook paused, releasing a deep sigh before continuing. “He said that if we all keep publicly fighting the way we have been… that our chapters will get suspended.” 

There was a small pause, as if it didn’t immediately click with everyone what had been said — and then the panic set in. 

“What?!”

“No fucking way!”

“He can’t be serious!”

“That’s bullshit!” 

“This is just another prank, right?!” 

Having forty-two people publicly shouting expletives, wasn’t the best start to this image reset that President Kwon wanted, but there was no way either of the chapters would have been okay with the other house coming into their own, so this little outdoor set-up was the best option they had. 

You and Jungkook sort of just stood there for a moment, letting the members get their gut-reactions out. Then he turned to you, motioning towards the mob of angry Greek lifers. “You were always better at yelling than me. You wanna quiet them down?” He smirked, a jab that had you clenching your teeth. 

“Great way to start off this so called peace treaty, but sure, I’ll gladly calm them down and get straight to the point. I wouldn’t want to let them drown in their own heads without knowing what’s going on because someone won’t just be upfront.” You stared him straight in the eyes, making sure he got your double meaning since he wanted to play dirty and bring up the past. He simply clenched his jaw and averted his gaze back to the crowd of hysterics laid out before them. 

“Quiet down and we’ll explain.” You yelled as loud as you could, hoping it would reach everyone so that the chatter would die down quickly. Luckily it seemed they were all on the verge of a mental breakdown and needed answers, so the volume was almost instantly brought down to a hush. All eyes were now on you. “To make things simple, President Kwon thinks that our little prank war or whatever the hell you want to call it, has brought too much negative attention to the school. Visiting students and their parents, donors, and apparently a lot of other people have noticed all of the antics that we pull on each other, and they don’t like it.” You paused, gauging the reactions, but everyone was just frozen in place, waiting for more details. “He put both of our houses on three months of probation and said that if we don’t clean up our acts and stop with all of this petty bullshit that he would suspend our chapters. So, really it’s that easy. We just have to let this feud die down...” You paused, not wanting to say what you were going to say next, but you thought that it would be the best way to diffuse the situation. “And I know that it was the venting of my personal feelings that started this entire thing, so I wanted to say… I’m sorry for causing it.” You didn’t look towards Jungkook, but you could feel his stare burning into the side of your face. You didn’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see the smugness or whatever the hell he was feeling towards this forced public apology. You were about to continue, but before you could, a high-pitched voice cut in. 

“No, why are you apologizing?” Sana said, stepping past the front lines of the two groups. “It is not your fault.” She shot a glare towards Jungkook who simply rolled his eyes and kept his stare straight ahead. 

Then it was Jennie pushing to the front to join in on your defense. “She’s right, Y/N. It’s not your fault. We’re the ones who planted the flowers as a joke. Even though it was a harmless joke,” She turned towards the Lambda boys, venom coating her words, “that made their trashy house look a little bit nicer. Yet, they had to escalate it into something else.”

Oh, this was not good.

Jimin broke through the front line for the Lambdas, a scowl etched across his face. “It’s not the issue of what you did. It’s the fact that back then you blindly fucked with the house that all of the guys lived in, not only Jungkook, just because of Y/N being upset over their relationship — which, he did nothing wrong since you wanna start glaring at people for no fucking reason Sana.” 

It was this violent concoction of anger and sadness colliding inside of your stomach that had you simultaneously fighting back the urge to bite off Jimin’s head or crying pathetically in front of everyone. 

Multiple people were stepping to the front of their groups now, various arguments splintering off as people began defending the heads of their respective houses. Y/N this, Jungkook that. You stared at the second story of the Tri Delt house, focusing in on the bedroom window all the way to the right (your bedroom), so that your hearing would blur out. You didn’t want to listen to these arguments any more, but you also didn’t have the energy to both somehow defend yourself while also admitting that Jungkook’s feelings from back then were also valid. So you stood there, eyes glazing over at the sight of the room where this entire feud spawned from. Though, maybe that wasn’t exactly correct. According to Jungkook it had started in no particular place and at no particular time that he could actually pinpoint. That was just the place where it had all finally been verbalized. 

You weren’t sure how long you zoned out for, just reminiscing on the conversation from that night, but it was Jungkook’s voice thundering through the air that halted everyone’s arguments once again, along with your torturous thoughts. 

“All of you just fucking stop!” He yelled. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is or how it started. If we keep doing this we’re gonna get our chapters suspended. Do you guys want that?” There was an awkward moment of silence where everyone was just sort of looking around at one another before the members finally grumbled a unanimous ‘no.’ “Okay, so then you guys are just gonna have to get over this bullshit, just like how me and Y/N are,” Jungkook paused, one brow arched as he turned to face you. “Right?”

You felt your face heat up as you clamped your teeth down onto the inside of your cheek. “…Right.”

“Good.” Jungkook smiled, seeming very happy with himself for getting that out of you — smug asshole. He turned back to face all of the members, clapping his hands together before saying something that caused the entire group to erupt into hysterics. “Now, apologize to each other.”

“Fuck that!” Someone screeched from the back. “Baek let the air out of my tires last year. I was late for my final.” 

“Because you put a pair of panties in my car and my girlfriend thought I was cheating on her!” 

“You probably were!”

Everyone was screaming and calling out various incidents, saying there was no way in hell they were ever going to apologize. 

“Fine! Fucking fine!” Jungkook cut in immediately before it could devolve again. “How about if me and Y/N just apologize to each other and it’ll count for the rest of you? And then this war is dead. Sound fair?” 

No one said anything concrete in response, just unintelligible grumbles rippling through the crowd. Jungkook apparently took this as an okay, because he was suddenly turning toward you. “Alright, you go first.” 

You scoffed. “I’m not apologizing first. It wasn’t even my idea. Besides I already apologized to everyone earlier.”

“It wasn’t an apology to me though.” 

“I don’t think I owe you an apology.” You shrugged. “I apologized for my friends fucking with your house. What else do I need to apologize for?” 

He just looked at you, with those eyes that were unreadable. Though you could see a slight shift, as though there truly was something that he wanted you to apologize for from back then, but he could tell that you weren’t going to back down, so he went for something that cut deep as punishment. 

He huffed in annoyance. “Fine, if you wanna be like that. I’m sorry that I broke up with you, Y/N.”

Your entire body flared with anger that had a pool of sweat instantly swelling at your hairline. You stepped closer to him, only a foot of space between you, but he didn’t back down and you weren’t going to either. “And I’m sorry I wasted three years of my life with a lying, cheating piece of shit!” 

His eyes went wide. The word that never failed to strike a nerve whenever this argument was brought back under the light. His response was quiet but firm, everyone, all forty-two members watching in silence. “I never cheated on you, but if you want to think that just so I can be the bad guy in your head, fine.” 

His final word felt like a sharp cut across your chest, but you stood firm, not backing down. You didn’t break eye contact with him as you voiced your final sentiment to the two groups of warring Greeks. “I don’t care whose side you guys fall on when it comes to this overblown drama between me and Jungkook. The fighting, the pranks, all of it, it’s over.” 

“Agreed.” Jungkook bit out before turning and walking towards the Lambda house, a silent command for his Brothers to do the same. 

You didn’t stand there for a single second longer and began walking toward your own house, your fellow Sisters following. Your best friends, Sana and Jennie, instantly threw their arms around your shoulders. “Vodka?” The universal distraction from all things awful in life. 

You shook your head. “Tequila.” The universal eraser to all things awful in life. “Lots of tequila.”

 ——-

“He’s lucky that we’re in a truce now or I would’ve thought up something diabolical for his arrogant ass,” Jennie said as she dusted some blush on her cheeks. 

“I know right, ugh!” Sana made a disgusted sound as she handed you the necklace she was letting you borrow for the night. “Telling you to apologize first. Like fuck you. You haven’t even done anything.”

You simply sighed, jumping to get your jeans past your thighs. “It’s fine guys. As long as no more issues pop up we can just ignore them and act like none of this ever happened.” 

“I know, I know, but it just pisses me off that they always bring your name into the argument. Like you didn’t tell us to go and mess with them. We did it ourselves, and sure, looking back on it now we shouldn’t have done it — even though they were some nice fucking flowers — but regardless, they pushed it to another level.” Sana let out a final huff as she hopefully released the last of her ranting for the night. 

“The point of the tequila,” You said as you filled three shot glasses, several wedges of lime waiting beside them, “Is to forget the problems. Not continue thinking about them.” 

Sana snapped her fingers and pointed at you with a smile as she picked up her shot. “You know what, you’re right. Fuck the Lambdas. They no longer exist. In my head we live next to a vacant patch of grass.” 

“Exactly.” Jennie picked up her glass, leaving the final one for you. “Cheers to no longer having to deal with the house that must not be named.”

The three of you let out a little cheer before clinking your glasses together and forcing your bodies through the post-shot shivers that followed. 

After the front yard meeting fiasco you knew immediately you would be going out. However, it had still been quite early, so you, Sana, and Jennie decided to indulge in several glasses of wine to bide the time before it was late enough to feel like an appropriate time to be downing shots. Tequila at six in the afternoon, even on a Friday, just didn’t feel right, so alcohol juice it had been. Though, the warm feeling that was already radiating through your legs as you walked over to the mirror to do one last once over of your outfit indicated that the so called alcohol juice had done its job as the pre-game to the actual hard liquor pre-game a little too well. 

“Okay, I’m only opting for one more round while we’re here or else we will be having a repeat of St. Patrick’s Day.” Too many green beers that day. Too many. 

“Senior year wisdom.” Jennie placed her hand over her heart. “Our freshman year brains would never.” 

“Our freshman year brains didn’t have an aversion to six different types of alcohol yet.” You laughed as you motioned to take the next round of shots. “And I would like to still be able to look at a bottle of tequila without going into a full-body sweat after tonight, so we’re pacing ourselves.” 

“Oh, Fireball. The days when I could still drink you were so simple.” Sana grabbed her face and grimaced as if Fireball was a long lost god, while you audibly gagged from the name of the cinnamon flavored whiskey alone. 

“Sana, stop. You know Y/N can’t even look at a churro anymore without looking like she’s gonna yak everywhere like a dog.” 

I faked a sniffle. “God, I miss being able to eat churros.” Cinnamon was now inedible to you thanks to your now forever connection between the delectable spice and the previously mentioned unspeakable liquor. A break up that rivaled that of yours and Jungkook’s. 

“Uber’s gonna be here in three minutes,” Jennie said as she returned to your bedside table to grab her shot glass once again. 

The three of you raised your glasses together with a clink. “Let’s fuck it up.” 

——----

The bar right next to your college, simply referred to as “Pub,” was a weird place to be on the first Friday of the new semester. It was a mix of underage freshman trying to slyly sip at their alcohol while attempting to hide the X’s marked on their hands, and of age students that felt a little too old to be at Pub, but who could argue with free drinks for girls until midnight? Definitely not you, Sana, or Jennie. 

The three of you found your temporary home at the tables on the deck right outside of the entrance, the fresh air much preferable to the stuffy atmosphere of the dance floor that you would soon find yourself on given the right song choice to send you flying through the door. 

You watched as Sana shimmied through the crowd of people to return to your table, three tiny plastic cups in hand. “You get a vodka Sprite, you get a vodka Sprite, and I get a vodka Sprite!” She yelled as she set the cups down on the table. 

You laughed. “People may call that basic, but we still get drunk and don’t have to drink Jack and fucking Coke.”

“The Devil’s combo.” Jennie sipped her drink. “You see a guy drinking that: run. He thinks he’s so fucking cool.” 

Sana raised her plastic cup. “Cheers to the truth.” 

“Cheers,” You all agreed collectively. 

“But speaking of guys who don’t drink Jack and Coke, I ran into Namjoon when I went to the bathroom a minute ago.” A blush crept across Jennie’s cheeks. 

“Are you finally gonna see if he’s interested? He’s not your TA anymore, so it’s not sketchy.” 

Jennie shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird. He seems so uninterested that it’s intimidating. Like I’ve imagined thirty-seven different scenarios for our first date and he’s only like ‘Hi, Jennie. Bye, Jennie.” 

You and Sana couldn’t help but laugh, however, the amusement was cut short by a decently sized group of familiar males. 

“Fuck me,” You said under your breath, which was enough for Jennie to turn around and see the pack of Lambda boys climbing the wooden steps onto the deck of the bar, Jungkook leading the way. 

“You try to forget your problems and they just walk in on two legs.” Sana groaned. “It’s rude really.” 

The group got caught in the line to get into the bar, which unfortunately left them idling uncomfortably close to your table, and of course something had to be said. 

Jimin glanced down at them sitting, a fake grin plastered to his mouth. “If it isn’t our cordial neighbors.” 

Jennie snapped her head up to look at him, mirroring his forced smile. “Cordial can also mean that we’re pretending you don’t exist. In fact, we no longer acknowledge that we even have neighbors.” 

“That’s fantastic, actually. It means I can forget that awful blowjob you gave me freshman year even happened.” 

Jennie’s jaw clenched for all of a millisecond before responding. “Awful? Say that to my untouched vagina after you came in sixty seconds. Though again, we’re pretending you don’t exist, so I guess I can forget the most underwhelming sexual experience of my life. Thanks, Jimin.” She turned back to you and Sana, not sparing a second glance as if she’d simply given someone directions to the nearest Denny’s. 

But Jimin wasn’t through. “That’s not what happened—”

You could see in your friend’s face she was already squaring up another jab, and as much as you found it entertaining you knew it was setting a bad example. 

“Jennie,” You said at the same time that Jungkook sighed “Jimin.”

You both looked at each other, a silent message of gratefulness passing between the two of you at trying to actually make this work. 

“Guys, neither of us want to get our chapters suspended. If ignoring each other is the best route, do that, or maybe even be friends. Whatever results in no fuckery between our houses, okay?” You reminded them of what was at stake here and everyone nodded, letting any planned animosity fall away as the line to get into the bar began to move. 

You tilted your head, watching as Jungkook’s back disappeared into the building, his eyes crinkling as he smiled brightly at some girl who noticed him the second he made it past the threshold. 

Again, that stupid feeling of longing for something that was clearly dead and gone. But you didn’t want to get too down, so before you could spiral too far you turned back towards your friends. “So did he really last sixty seconds?” 

“No,” Jennie smiled, “But I definitely still have the texts of him telling me the next day it was the best suck of his life. He’s the one that lied first, so I get to bend the truth too.”

“Freshman year is so weird to think about. Everyone was actually friendly. Jennie and Jimin might be dating right now if it wasn’t for our little war.” Sana laughed as she batted the napkin away that Jennie tossed at her. 

“Absolutely not. I want someone like Namjoon, who’s smart and respectful. Not Jimin, who… who…” She trailed off simply finishing her thought with a wordless grimace. 

Jennie said that, but you knew it wasn’t exactly true. You remembered very well when Jennie and Jimin were involved and she actually seemed to enjoy the Lambda’s presence quite a bit. But then things went to shit the summer after your freshman year was over, and well, this was the reality now. Snide comments at every passing instead of mutual invites to beach days. 

You were beginning to let a little slideshow of memories from that first year cloud your head when a song that already had you lifting out of your chair clamored inside the bar. “We dance till dawn!” You pulled your friends by their arms through the entrance, waving your wristbands at the bouncer before pushing your way to the middle of the dance floor. 

“Drinks!” Jennie beamed, remembering that they had finished the others outside. “I’ll be back!” She yelled over the music, pointing towards the bar. 

You and Sana gave her a thumbs up as you began to dance together, singing the lyrics so loud your throats would certainly punish you by night’s end. But you didn’t care. Today had been absolutely disastrous, ripping up old wounds that you wished would just stay permanently beneath their flimsy bandaid, so you were thankful for this music that was blaring so loud that thoughts weren’t even an option, the alcohol that was so potent you could barely remember Jungkook’s smug face from the house meeting today, and your friends that allowed you to be this happy on days this bad. 

A few songs passed and you and Sana were still dancing and getting so hyped up by every new spin that it took you a second to remember that Jennie definitely should’ve been back by now. You looked around, only to find a sight that made you let out a slight scream that was completely concealed by the music. You tapped Sana and began pointing towards the bar. She turned and immediately mirrored your excitement. 

Namjoon was leaning into Jennie at the bar, whispering something into her ear and you could see her smiling, redness once again blooming on her face. In your drunkenness you pulled out your phone and snapped severa blurry pictures, which were sure to be a great topic of discussion in the group chat tomorrow. You watched Jennie nod her head, smiling and pointing to the three drinks in her hand, and then she started back towards where you were. 

“Bitch, the drinks could’ve waited!” You tried to say over the music. “Go back and talk to him.” 

Jennie actually looked giddy as she handed over the drinks to you and Sana. “I am. He’s leaving soon though, but he asked if I wanted to grab something to eat with him at the diner down the street.” 

Sana jumped up and down in excitement. “So he basically asked you to marry him? Got it.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s totally gonna propose to me over my omelette.” She joked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Are you guys okay if I go?” 

“Of course, but I will be checking your location in fifteen minutes and if you are not at that diner I will hunt Namjoon’s ass down in two seconds,” You warned. “—Except if you decide you wanna skip the diner and go straight to fucking that’s cool too, just let us know.” 

Jennie threw out another giddy expression at the thought. “I’ll text you guys. Love you!” She said,  kissing her hand and throwing it out to you as she weaved back towards where Namjoon was waiting for her at the bar. 

“Fuck Disney,” You shouted to Sana. “Dreams come true at Pub too.”

She bent over, laughing as she tried to sip her drink. “Ugh, if only we could be that lucky. I’ve never had a TA even close to that hot.”

“Same, but maybe we’ll find something else tonight.” You motioned toward the back where you could see some of the soccer players hanging out. You eyed Jung Hoseok. The two of you had hooked up a few times last year, and getting laid would be a perfect ending to this bad to actually decent day. 

“Oh, I see.” Sana wiggled her brows, giving a knowing look. “Let’s go bump into them.” She grabbed your hand and began leading you through the crowd until you reached the area that the soccer players were idly standing around and sipping their drinks. You started a conversation about something random right behind Hoseok, and it was only a minute or so before he turned around and noticed the two of you. 

“Oh, look who it is.” He smiled, hugging you. “Been a while.” 

“I know your summer must’ve been so dull without me,” You flirted, sipping at your drink. 

“No question.” He leaned back against the wall, pulling you by the waist so you weren’t halfway on the dance floor and constantly being bumped into. Sana noticed the gesture and took that as her cue to let things simmer between you and Hoseok. 

“Y/N, I see Nayeon and Joy over there.” She pointed towards the other corner of the bar, where you saw the two Tri Delts mingling. “I’m gonna go over there, okay?” 

“Sounds good.” 

She leaned into your ear, whispering, “If you wanna go home with him just text me. I’ll catch a ride with them on the way back to the house.” 

“I’m ninety-five percent sure I will, but I’ll text you to make sure,” You whispered back. 

She squeezed your shoulder before pulling back. “Take care of her Jung. I’ve heard you’re very good at that.” Sana smiled like a tiny devil before running through the crowd, leaving you slightly slack-jawed. 

You bit your lip, a small warmth creeping into our face. “Please, ignore that,” You bit through an awkward laugh. 

“Why’re you embarrassed?” He smiled, shrugging before leaning next to your ear. “I mean I have taken care of you every single time we’ve been together, right?” 

His breath was hot against the side of your face, leaving you tingling. You lifted your hand, cupping his jaw as you pulled him back to look him in the face. “You can’t say things like that to me when we’re in a bar and you can’t do anything about it.” 

He smiled, eyes drifting to your mouth. “I mean we could always leave. It’s almost closing time anyways.” 

You smiled. “One more drink, after I finish this one.” 

“Perfect.” He leaned in, gave you a small peck on the lips before ruffling your hair a little and turning to say something to his friend. Presumably it was something about him getting laid tonight, which was exactly the same conversation you were about to have with your friend. 

You: the hookup is secure 

Sana: quick work. i’m proud 

Sana: joy and nayeon said that lisa is sick in the bathroom and they’re about to take her back to the house, so i was just going to catch a ride with them if you’re going with hoseok. sound good? 

You: oh really? i hope she’s okay. make sure she gets water at home. and yes i’ll be fine. we were gonna have one last drink and then go. i’ll text you when i make it to his place

Sana: sounds good. love you!

You slipped your phone back into your pocket after returning the sentiment. 

“Everything good?” Hoseok asked. 

“Yeah, one of our friends is sick so Sana was just letting me know she was gonna go home with her.” 

“Damn,” Hoseok tsked, jokingly.  “Does that mean I’m stuck with you for the night?” 

“It would seem so.” You smiled, and then he pulled you beneath his arm and adjusted the backwards cap on his head. 

“You know, I’m all for just fucking or whatever, but you’re really never gonna say yes to a date, are you?” 

You paused before answering, remembering that time last year that he’d asked about actually taking you out to dinner. You had thought about it, but in the end you just decided you had no desire to even slightly pivot in the direction of being any more than friends with benefits with someone. Though, if anyone were able to sway you away from that mindset after Jungkook, it would be Hoseok, but just not yet.

“If I let you take me to Steak n’ Shake after this, will that suffice?” You giggled at the way he rolled his eyes while still smiling. 

“I have leftovers in my fridge better than the food from there, so I’ll let you have that.” He paused, a slight glimmer filling his eyes. “Maybe I’ll light a candle, make it romantic, sort of like a date.” 

Your skin prickled slightly at the mention of the candle, a call back to one of their more… unconventional hook ups from last year.

“Is candle wax being melted onto my naked body and drunkenness really a good mix?” You asked, even though it had been one of the best feelings you had ever experienced. 

“Not that drunk, but it could always wait until the morning.” 

You tapped your finger to your lips as if you were pondering it. “Let me get my last drink and I’ll let you know my answer.” 

“I have a tab open.” He motioned towards the bar. “Just get it on mine.” 

“Thanks,” You said, even though you planned to pay for it yourself. Random guys you didn’t mind hustling a few free drinks from, but not guys you were actually sort of friends with. 

You walked up to the bartender. “Vodka Sprite,” You said over the thumping music. He nodded and then stepped to the left and made your drink. He handed it to you as you slipped him your credit card, motioning to close the tab out. 

You were already halfway done with sipping on the drink when the bartender returned a slight look of awkwardness on his face. “Uh, it declined.” 

Your brows furrowed. Your financial aid refund for school had definitely been deposited into your bank account. You knew this because you had jumped for joy when it hit and you were finally able to return to the sanctuary that is no-ads Hulu. There was enough to cover your dues for staying in the Tri Delt house this semester, so there should certainly have been enough to cover a four dollar drink. You were pondering what to do, maybe just put it on Hoseok’s tab like he said you could. It was probably just your actual bank having issues and it would sort itself out in the morning anyways. You were just about to say to put it on his tab when someone slid their muscled bicep right in front of your face with a credit card in hand. 

You knew that it was pathetic that you knew exactly who that bicep belonged to before he even turned to look at your face, black strands of hair hanging over his forehead.

“I got it,” Jungkook said to the bartender. 

“Why’d you do that?” You asked. 

“Because I was right behind you and heard him, and I know how embarrassed you get about things like that.” He shrugged, grabbing the paper and pen that the bartender slid back towards him. 

He was right. You had terrible secondhand embarrassment, let alone actual first hand embarrassment. “Well… thanks. I don’t know why it did that. I got my refund already.” 

“Just check your bank account. If the money’s in there then the bank system is probably just fucked up right now.” 

“Yeah…” You slid your phone out of your pocket and immediately went to your banking app and pressed your fingerprint down onto the login. You waited a few seconds, and when your balance appeared on the screen, you felt your heart drop. “What in the actual fuck?” You said, staring at your bank account with a whopping dollar and twenty cent in it. 

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowed as he rounded to your side to look at your screen to see the low number that was not at all what it was yesterday. “I thought you said you got your refund?” 

You were shaking your head. “I… I did. I don’t know what the hell happened. Oh my god, I’m gonna freak the fuck out. I have to pay my housing cost for Tri-Delt with that money. Like what the fuck is going on—”

You felt Jungkook’s on your back, rubbing light circles. “Just breathe.” You stiffened at the touch, but didn’t try to pull away. “It’s probably just a financial aid fuck up. Call them tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

You knew that he was probably right, but a creeping feeling was telling you otherwise. This was your fourth year in college dealing with the same exact scholarships every single semester and this had never happened before. 

“Fuck.” You brought your hands up to push at either of your temples. “That really just fucked up my whole mood. I’m not even horny anymore—” You cringed, realizing what you just said. “Please, just ignore me I’m drunk.” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression he’d made at your admission. 

“What’re you doing now? Where’s Sana and Jennie?” He asked, ignoring your flub and finally lowering his hand from your back. 

“They’re not here. Jennie left earlier and I told Sana I was gonna go home with… Hoseok, but now I just wanna go lay in bed by myself so I can spiral into every negative possibility of why my bank account looks like that.” 

“It’s gonna be fine.” This time he placed his hand on the back of your neck, cupping it slightly. It was a motion that had always for some reason calmed you down when things got overwhelming. It seemed he remembered. But even though you appreciated the comfort, the feeling of his hand there made something in your stomach flutter — that stupid feeling of longing seriously needed it’s wings shredded. You gripped his forearm, pulling it away from you, and you saw something shift in his eyes as you did so. 

“I guess I’m gonna go tell Hoseok that I’m just gonna go home—” But then you suddenly remembered something. “Fuck! I can’t Uber because I don’t have any money on my card.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This day was so bad and then actually pretty good, only to turn out fucking awful.” 

There was a couple of seconds of silence between the two of you, but you kept your eyes closed, trying to clear the fog in your head from all the alcohol to figure out what you were going to do. However, Jungkook finally let out a sigh before speaking. “Come on.”

“What?” You asked.

“All of these people are trying to get out of here at once and they’re ordering Uber’s at the same time.” He flashed his phone screen, showing that it was not only almost closing time, but that the next driver wouldn’t be available for thirty-two minutes with everyone having already ordered their rides. “It’s a twenty minute walk back to your house. I’ll just walk you there.” 

Even though Jungkook was currently the president of the Lambdas, he actually decided not to live in the frat house this year and instead opted for a cheaper apartment that was still near campus. You and Jungkook both relied on scholarships to pay for most of your schooling,  and fraternity and sorority dues on their own were not cheap, and living on Greek Drive only made that burden a million times worse. 

But the point was that Jungkook had no need to go to campus because he lived in a completely different direction now.

“You don’t even live there anymore. How’re you gonna get home?” You asked. 

“I’ll just sleep on the couch and get Tae or Jimin to drive me to my place in the morning.” He shrugged. 

You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of having to walk all the way back to campus with Jungkook,  considering just a five minute car ride earlier in the day had been sufficiently awkward all on its own. But you also were unfortunately no longer in the mood for sex, leaving Hoseok’s house out of the picture, and your bank account was for some reason drained, which resulted in you only having one option really. 

“Alright,” You finally said. “Just let me tell Hoseok and then we can go.” 

He nodded as you walked back towards the group of soccer players, tapping Hoseok on the shoulder. It seemed your dismay was painted plainly on your face because he immediately asked what was wrong. 

“I actually can’t hang out tonight. I just found out my bank account is fucked up and I can’t really think about anything else right now, so I was just gonna head home, but I wanted to let you know. I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re fine,” He said, shaking his head. “Do you have a way home then?” 

You glanced towards Jungkook, releasing a heavy sigh. “Uhm, yeah, Jungkook was gonna walk me.” 

Hoseok’s eyes darted toward where you pointing, narrowing slightly. Most people knew about the feud between the Lambdas and the Tri Delts, which meant most people also knew the details about why there was a feud in the first place. 

“Are you sure you’re good with that?” Hoseok asked. 

Not really, but a twenty minute walk wasn’t going to kill you. “We’re fine, promise. Actually we’ve been… cordial lately.” You tried to say it like it was actually the truth, but you thought maybe if you spoke it into existence then it would actually come to fruition. 

Hoseok tilted his head, giving you a look that said he didn’t really believe you, but regardless he pulled you in for a hug. “Okay, let me know when you get home.” 

“I will,” You assured him before waving goodbye and making your way back towards Jungkook. 

“Ready,” He huffed, a slight annoyance seeming to coat his words as he pushed himself off of the wall and started towards the entrance. 

“Are you really gonna have an attitude?” You asked as you did a little jog to catch up with him. “I would’ve found another way if I knew you were gonna act like an ass.” 

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just tired.” He placed his hand on one of your shoulders, moving you in front of him so the two of you could move through the mass of people more quickly until you were walking through the entrance and down the wooden ramp that connected to the outside deck. 

“Then why’d you offer? I could’ve called someone to pick me up.” 

“Because,” He paused, motioning towards the crosswalk that already had dozens of drunk college kids filing through it. “I couldn’t just leave you there, and I thought just taking you home would be quicker than you calling people to try and find a ride.” 

Ouch. He was just trying to be nice and you were calling him an ass. Heat flushed beneath your skin from embarrassment. “I’m sorry…” You finally said as you made it to the sidewalk and began the straight shot down the main road towards Greek Drive. “Thank you for making sure I got home alright.” You added, avoiding any eye contact and opting to walk a little bit in front of him. 

After about five entire minutes of silence you thought to yourself, yeah, this was going pretty much as expected. But you were thankful that at least there wasn’t any hostility. You didn’t want any more arguments like the ones from today.  You had seethed at each other after the two of you left President Kwon’s office. Had thrown insults at one another at the meeting between your houses. Like sure, maybe the silence hurt more than it should’ve. The idea that the guy you started dating and fell in love with when you were a junior in high school not even being able to fake a conversation with you for twenty minutes was mildly heartbreaking to say the least. But again, the silence was better than the anger that had fueled most of your interactions since breaking up the summer after starting college. 

You had become somewhat content with the lack of speaking. You were still a few steps ahead of Jungkook as he walked behind you, but he suddenly picked up speed and joined you, shoulder skating against yours before he was curving his hand around your waist and nudging you to go to the side of the sidewalk that wasn’t closest to the main road that was currently buzzing with post-bar traffic. 

“Wouldn’t want you falling face first into a Camero that someone’s Daddy bought them, Drunkie,” He said, offering a playful smile as he dropped his arm back down to his side. 

You were caught so off guard by the positive expression from Jungkook that it took you a second for your head to actually realize what he had even said. You pushed his shoulder. “I’m not even drunk anymore.”

“Well, considering I can literally smell the tequila on you, I’d rather not take any chances of you falling into oncoming traffic.” 

“You’re being nice.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Too nice.” 

“What?” He chuckled. “I’m just making an effort to try and fix things between us so that the members don’t see us constantly fighting and think it’s okay to do the same.” 

Ah, that’s what it was. He didn’t care if you guys actually patched this up, just that it looked like you did. 

“Well, we could always pretend to like each other, since the appearance is all that actually matters apparently.” You forced a smile and began walking a little bit faster. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes of being alone with him and his stupid presence that overwhelmed you with thoughts that you wished would just disappear. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He said almost immediately, not letting that unbearable plunge into silence return. “I would love it if we could be nice to each other and actually mean it… I just…” He trailed off, seeming to hesitate in whatever he was trying to say. 

“Just spit it out.” 

There was one more second of a brief pause before he spoke quietly. “I just don’t think that’s ever going to happen, because I know you still blame me for everything.” 

You tensed up, still keeping your pace of being slightly ahead of him. You inhaled a deep breath through your mouth before turning to look over your shoulder at him, his eyes already waiting to meet yours. 

“I don’t blame you.” You smiled, but with a sad furrowing of your brows. “I… resent you.” 

Jungkook’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in surprise. “I mean, that’s… that’s even worse than blaming me.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.” 

His expression turned more puzzled. “How is you resenting me better than you blaming me?” 

“Because, blame implies that I think it’s your fault… Resentment just means I’m angry and upset, regardless of whether I think you were right or wrong for what happened.” You felt the bridge of your nose begin to tingle with that telltale sign of tears, so you quickly looked forward and urged them to stay hidden until you were at least in the comfort of your own room. “I’m just resentful of the things I now think and feel about myself, but that isn’t your fault. It’s my issue to deal with.” You shrugged. 

“What things do you think and feel about yourself?” He asked, and you could tell that he had hurried his pace and was a little closer behind you now. 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want to talk about this. The two of you hadn’t had an in depth conversation like this since you’d first broken up. But things were different now compared to that first conversation. Back then it was raw and fresh, the pain too intense to notice what was growing underneath. Now it was a scar, and you were left with all of the emotions, feelings, and implications of how and why things ended. 

“I… I don’t really wanna talk about it honestly.” You said that, but you also wanted Jungkook to understand that you were perfectly aware of how you had acted the past few years. You may have said and acted in ways that seemed bitchy and ridiculous, but it was because of these disgusting emotions that were now plaguing your mind constantly, and maybe it was time he knew. “I kind of wish we had broken up over this giant fight that was about something unfixable. Something where we both clearly did things wrong and we were both through with each other because there was no way either of us were going to change our minds. I think I could’ve dealt with that so much better than what you actually broke up with me for. Which was just the fact that you thought I was...” You trailed off, the word that bombarded your thoughts mercilessly landing on your tongue. “Boring.”

You heard the way his shoes scratched against the concrete at his screeching halt, and he clearly thought that that was going to stop you as well, but you kept going, not actually wanting to hear any response from him. You said your piece and now maybe he would understand. But of course you knew that he wasn’t just going to let it end like that, which was made apparent when you felt him suddenly gripping your arm, trying to get you to slow down for a second. 

“I never said or even thought that about you, Y/N, ever.” He tried to pull you to look at him, but you twisted your body and threw a hand over your face to cover your eyes that were already glistening. 

“No, stop,” You said firmly, and he ceased with trying to get you to look at him. “I told myself after that night in my room I was never going to let you see me cry over you ever again, and if I look at you right now, I will. I just know I will, so please just stop.” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, leaving just the sound of grasshoppers and the random gust of cars passing by. You thought maybe he would just let it go and you could continue the last few minutes of the walk without speaking, but you had verbalized your thoughts and Jungkook was without a doubt going to respond. 

“I know how it’s easy to think that,” He started, his voice a whisper with his hand still wrapped around your arm, as if he was afraid you would bolt down the street without letting him finish if he let you go. “But that’s not why I ended things. You were the first girl I ever actually dated, and when we got here I just started thinking about—”

“—All of your new exciting options.” You cut in, anger flaring before you could stop it. 

“Y/N…” He trailed off, squeezing your arm. “That’s not what it was—”

“—No,” You said before he could try and dance his way through some explanation of how he just wanted to go crazy in college without actually saying it out loud. “You don’t have to explain it again. I’d rather you didn’t actually. I remember in excruciating detail the way you explained it that night. I understand, I get it… So, p-please,” Your voice cracked, finally being too overwhelmed by this entire situation. “Let’s just keep walking and not talk about it anymore. Please.” 

It turned so quiet I could even hear how hard Jungkook was breathing. It sounded heavy but unnatural, like he was trying to forcibly steady his heartbeat. And after a few seconds you felt him finally drop his hand from your arm and you didn’t wait for him to say a single word before you started down the sidewalk again.

The Tri Delt house was five minutes away, leading to five minutes of complete and utter silence between two people that was so palpable it blocked out the scratching of your shoes as you walked and the rustle of tiny animals running through the trees next to you. It engulfed you in this tunnel of noiselessness. 

Eventually you saw the bend at the end of the street where yours and Jungkook’s houses sat next to one another. It was only a little bit away, yet it felt so far. Twenty minutes. All it had taken was twenty minutes of the two of you not partaking in your back and forth hostility from the last few years for you to break down again. It felt pathetic. It was completely pathetic. 

You were finally approaching the point where the Tri Delt and Lambda house split into opposite directions. All you had to do was keep walking straight while Jungkook veered to the left and— 

You felt the light tug at the belt loop of your jeans, stopping you in place, just like from earlier today after the suspension meeting. You were about to tell him to let you go, when he beat you to the punch. 

“You’re not boring, Y/N. You never have been.” He was so close you could feel his breath hitting the back of your head. “It was one of the millions of reasons that I loved you. I just wanted you to know that.” 

And then he was gone. The pressure of someone tugging you in place disappearing, leaving you to catch your balance as you finally stood alone. You forced yourself to stare straight ahead as you walked towards your front door, not daring to look at him as he walked to the Lambda house. You shoved your keys inside the lock, forcing it open and then taking the stairs by two’s until you were collapsing in your bed, fingers crushing your pillow as you finally let yourself cry. 

——--

A phone was ringing inside of your dreams. It was ringing and ringing and ringing until you realized the sound was coming from some otherworldly place — oh yeah, that would be the current hell that is your life. 

You blinked a couple of times, blindly reaching for the source of the noise that was lost somewhere in your bed. You finally felt your hand slide across the leather of your phone case. You brought it up to read the name and you felt your stomach curl. 

‘Jungkook the Jackass’ was calling. And if it weren’t for the fact that he was calling you at seven in the morning you probably would’ve just sent him straight to voice mail in order to avoid any further conversations about what transpired last night. But alas, it was seven in the morning and just seemed to be too early of a time for him to be calling about something mundane. 

You regretfully lifted the phone to your ear. “Yes?” You grumbled, voice scratchy. 

“We have a problem.” No mention of last night. It was just a clear cut declaration that did not sound good. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up from bed. 

“Come outside your house. Now.” 

Your eyes widened and you instantly jumped from bed. He sounded urgent enough that you decided your flimsy nighttime apparel was going to have to do. You hurried down the stairs and opened the front door, revealing Jungkook in the front yard staring at something. 

“What is it?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to hide your bralessness. 

Jungkook pressed his lips together as he pointed towards the front of the Tri Delt house. “My idiot Lambda Brothers.” 

You followed the direction of his finger, your mouth dropping at the sight before you. 

Dozens and dozens and dozens of boxers covering every inch of the first story of the house. You turned towards Jungkook, so angry and anxiety-riddled that someone from administration had already seen this, that you could hardly speak. 

“I’m going to murder them,” You finally managed to spit through clenched teeth. 

“No,” He started, turning to you, mirroring your own frustration. “I’m going to murder them.” 

→ part 02

#bts #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fanction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch. 15)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thic OC

Warning: Language

Side note: I fell off big time I know so forgive me for that and this is a short chapter because I decided to make the next one long.

*Location: Providenciales, Turks and Caicos*

Walking into the lobby of the famous Palms Resorts, Amiyah looked around stunned at the beautiful interior. Greeted by the Turks and Caicos citizens and employees of the hotel she received a fresh alcoholic beverage from a silver tray. The colorful and cooling drink made her mouth water. Taking a sip she closed her eyes as she visited paradise.

“Welcome to The Palms Resort! Where we hope your stay is everything you’ve dreamed of.” The woman on the other side of the desk smiled acknowledging them.

Amiyah, Kelley, and Durk walked to the counter. All three with their complimentary drinks in one hand and pulling on to a weeks worth of luggage in the other. Their flight had landed over an hour ago and it took them a little less than half an hour to get to the place where they would be staying for the week.

“Thanks! I have a few rooms booked under the name of Derrick Lewis.” Durk smiled speaking to the clerk and pulling out his I.D.

She returned one back taking his card and went to her computer to type in his name. It took her less than a minute to see the reservations before handing over their room keys. Durk gave her a slight head nod thanking her and then turned towards Amiyah and Kelley who were standing next to each other with wide grins. It was nothing but pure excitement clouding over their faces.

“Alright listen up. I only got two rules. Don’t go breaking shit in the room and don’t go getting nothing out of the refrigerator or mini bar that they have in there. Not tryna have y’all running up my card.” Durk spoke calmly pointing the room key in their faces.

Kelley kissed her teeth. “Durk she is grown and it’s her birthday tomorrow. If she want to get a drink from our bar that’s in our room then she can.” She went for the key but Durk moved it out of her reach.

Looking her up and down at least two times Durk chuckled before turning towards Amiyah.

“Miyah you wanna tell me why your friend, who ain’t pay for shit, speaking for you? That’s what I’m confused about.” He replied sarcastically.

Amiyah grinned stepping in between them. She politely took the room key from Durk and handed it to Kelley.

“Alright okay. We get it Durk. You paid for everything so we’re gonna respect your rules. Okay? We’re all just here to have a good time.” She smiled rubbing his arm.

“That’s all I want, is some respect. At least someone gets what I’m saying.” He directed his speech towards Kelley who simply rolled her eyes at him before walking away towards the elevators.

Durk shook his head watching her leave and laughed.

Amiyah pushed him lightly by his shoulder.

“Durk can you please not act like an asshole to her on this trip? That’s my best friend and I really want her to have just as much of a good time as me.”

He waved her off. “Ain’t nobody thinking about that girl. She got a problem with me for some reason and I been feeling her energy since we arrived at the airport back at home.” He went back towards the entrance and checked his phone.

Amiyah sighed knowing what he meant. Kelley did have some sort of dislike towards him. Mainly because of the time he put her out knowing that she had no where else to go. Before then Kelley never cared too much or know much about him besides hearing his name ringing throughout the streets and discovering that her new best friend was his younger sister. But the moment Amiyah went to Kelley’s door crying she knew that she wouldn’t find herself getting along with Durk at all.

Following behind him Amiyah stood on his side. Scooting closer she leaned her head on his shoulder and holding on to his left arm. She smiled looking up at him before speaking.

“I really appreciate this Durk. None of it would be possible without you.” She glanced at him looking into his eyes to let her know that he was very much appreciated.

Durk smirked trying to nudge her off but failed

“Get off of me girl. Damn.” He snickered.

“I will once you come with us. We’re tryna see our rooms and you’re waiting out here for what?”

Amiyah wondered why he has still yet to move. There was no need to stand at the entrance unless he was waiting on something or someone.

“I’m going I just have to make sure he gets here first.” Durk answered checking his phone for the third time.

Confused but curious Amiyah asked. “Who’s he?”

“Oh yeah I forgot to mention that Erik was meeting us.” He replied nonchalantly.

Within an instant Amiyah felt the butterflies invade inside her stomach. This was an off guard moment that she didn’t know how to receive or handle. Why wasn’t she aware of him tagging along on her birthday trip? Did he asked to come? Specifically for her? She had so many questions and thoughts running around in the back of her head but she simply pushed them to the side not wanting to make it weird for her to ask them aloud.

She sent a small smile. “Why? Why is he coming?”

Durk shrugged. “He wanted to be here to celebrate your birthday tomorrow. As well as other reasons but yeah.”

Amiyah nodded her head. “How did he get here? I didn’t see him on the plane or at the airport.”

“Since our flight was booked my mans had to drive another state over to another airport just to make it here around the same time. I know for damn sure he came out of pocket trying to get a tick at the last minute.” Durk chuckled.

Amiyah joined him as she was flattered to hear about the effort Erik put in just to be here. She hadn’t seen him since the night he came over to speak with Durk. In the inside Amiyah was hoping that this trip could not only get them back together but to come out and tell her brother about everything. Maybe it was a good thing that he decided to come after all.

Interrupted from her thoughts she heard Durk shout out.

“About fucking time. Welcome to Turks and muthafucking Caicos!” Throwing his arms up he walked towards Erik who was getting out of an all black sprinter with other guests.

Amiyah took in his appearance. He was wearing a short sleeve navy tropical print collar button down shirt that was opened showing a wife beater underneath. With his famous gold chains hanging around his neck. For his bottoms he wore white drawstring shorts and a pair of white forces to finish the look. He sported a black Nike book bag off his shoulder as he went up to Durk greeting him with a dap. When he smiled Amiyah could see the gold on his teeth peeking past his lips.

“Aye a nigga happy to be here.” Erik laughed going in for their brotherly hug. Glancing up he spotted Amiyah standing behind him next to her luggage.

Amiyah flipped her freshly done knottless braids to the side with her drink still in one hand as she held eye contact with him. It was different and intense. It was a look that she hadn’t seen in a while. In fact it was the same way he looked at her the whole night when she went to his place for the first night. Even a blind person could see that the look behind Erik’s eyes was pure desire and need.

When she came to realization Amiyah glanced away ending the staring competition.

“That’s a fact. So where’s shorty at?” Durk pulled away gaining Amiyah’s attention.

“Right here!”

Following a high pitched voice, all hope that Amiyah had in her body completely went out. There was Harmony standing next to him with the prettiest glow she had ever seen. Her hair was gorgeous as she rocked the goddess locs. Her silhouette showing past her floral maxi dress. Nails and lashes done to perfection. Of course she was his guest for the week. It only made sense. They had to be a couple.

Feeling a sting in her chest and burning in the back of her eyes Amiyah wiped away the feeling of defeat and walked over towards her brother.

“Hey Erik. Harmony. Nice to have you guys here.” Amiyah put on her best smile. She didn’t really mean it but for the sake of keeping peace on her trip being cordial was the best option.

“Thanks for letting us join you guys.” Harmony spoke up. She went in for a hug.

Us? So she must be speaking for the both of them now.

Amiyah thought returning the kind gesture.

“It’s no problem. So I’m gonna head to my room and change and probably go to the pool after. I’ll let you two check in.” Smiling she turned on her heels walking to her baggage. When she gave a glance back she saw him staring into her eyes with sorrow. Amiyah shook her head and went towards the elevators.

-

“Girl I have to give it to him...this room is the shit!” Kelley stated opening the door to let her in.

Amiyah viewed the room. First thing she noticed when she walked in was the decked out kitchenette that opened up to the livingroom area. Across from that was a bathroom and bedroom on the other side. The door was opened and bags were already placed on the bed so Amiyah figured it was Kelley’s room. Walking past the livingroom there was another door that was closed. Amiyah opened it. Her mouth dropped as she entered the master bedroom that had a balcony facing the water.

“Yeah I figured you would want this room.” Kelley said as she helped her with her bags.

“I love it, but you know I would have been fine with either one.” Amiyah smiled walking to the glass sliding door. She opened it and stepped out on the balcony. The scent of the ocean hitting her nose.

“Well you’re only getting the finest shit while we’re out here because you deserve it. Happy birthday sis.”

Amiyah turned around to see Kelley holding up four miniature bottles of alcohol. She smiled shaking her head at her friends stubbornness.

“Kelley where did you get those bottles?” She giggled lightly taking the two that was being handed to her.

Cracking open her drinks, Kelley shrugged. “Where else? The mini bar out of the fridge. Now drink up.”

They collided their bottles together taking one after the other. Amiyah made a face towards the bitter drink. She could feel the liquor warming her body up. After the long flight all she wanted to do was wash up and put on a bathing suit to go take a dip in the pool. Going back inside of her room she threw the empty nips away. Grabbing her suitcase and putting it on her bed she unzip it and searched for one of the many swimsuits she packed. Her favorite color caught her eye.

Pulling out the light purple two piece set she also took out a sheer white bottom covering. Amiyah grabbed her toiletry travel bag and went to the bathroom. When she came to she stole a glance inside of Kelley’s room as she saw her getting ready as well.

After an hour of continuous switching in and out of the bathroom the duo was finally ready and leaving out of their room suit. They strolled towards the elevators in silence and only pulling out their phones to record snapchat videos. Kelley hit the button that goes to the lobby while the two waited for the cart to come up to their floor level.

“Hey by the way Erik is here just to let you know.” Amiyah spoke up coming to the remembrance of his presence from earlier.

Kelley’s brows knitted. “The hell. Why is he here?”

“I guess he wanted to be here to celebrate my birthday.” The doors opened allowing them to walk in.

“But that’s not all. He brought his friend, Harmony, here with him. You remember the girl from the Valentines Day bash?” Amiyah stated jogging her memory.

Kelley nodded folding her arms. “Okay now why did she have to tag along? They together or something?”

Amiyah shrugged her shoulders as her reply. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure if they were but from her coming on this trip with him it only had her thinking that they were. Why else would she be here with him? It probably was a baecation for them. Amiyah sighed as she stressed herself with all of her questions.

The doors to the elevators opened as Amiyah and Kelley made their way outside towards the pool area. Already filling up with the other guests it was beginning to get crowded. Finding an empty spot on the lounge chairs Amiyah and Kelley decided to sit a few feet away from the bar.

“I’m about to get a drink. You want something?” Kelley asked standing up pulling on her pink neon swimsuit.

“Yeah get me something that’s fruity but sneaks up on you.” They laughed in unison.

“Okay, I’ll be back.”

Amiyah watched her walk away. There was a line that was already formed so she knew it would be a while before Kelley came back.Taking of her sandals she kicked her feet up to lay back on the chair. Their spot was right by the shade so the sun wasn’t beaming on her so much. Amiyah’s gaze scattered around, watching nothing in particular, but at all of the guests having a good time.

Enjoying the good music along with the warm breeze that blew every few minutes Amiyah relaxed into the chair. Her eyes closed to get the full vacation experience which she found to be peaceful was just as quickly interrupted by a shade blocking her from the sun. Her eyes jolted open to find out what was the cause.

“Sorry to intrude on what seems to look like a blissful moment but I couldn’t help but to come by and introduce myself.” A tall dark and handsome man spoke with a hand out directed towards her.

“I’m Ryan.” He waited for her to shake his hand.

Amiyah gave him a few blanks before introducing herself as well.

“Amiyah.” She replied softly. His hand much larger but soft cradle hers gently before bringing it to his lips to kiss her skin.

Blushing she looked away towards the bar to see Kelley still in the long line. She wasn’t looking at her for help but just to see if she noticed her being approached by the stranger. Amiyah quickly turned her attention back on him.

“Beautiful name miss. You’re from The States right?” He asked with a southern accent that she caught on to.

“Yeah I am. What about you?” She smiled politely.

“I’m from Georgia. Decatur to be exact.” He gave his soft pillowy lips a smooth lick.

Taking a seat on the lounge chair next to her he placed his towel that he was holding down next to him.

“So what brings you to Turks and Caicos?”

“Birthday. It’s actually tomorrow and I’m out here for the week celebrating.” Amiyah’s hands became clammy under his stare.

“Oh Happy Birthday. Mind if I ask how old you’re gonna be?” His voice was soothing and calm but dangerously low just how she liked.

“Uh 22.”

“That’s what’s up. So you like to party Amiyah?” A smirk grew on his face.

Sitting up a tad bit in her chair she looked at him confused.

“Somewhat. Why you ask?” She giggled out of nervousness.

Ryan shrugged. “A pretty girl like you I figured you would. But you can’t possibly be out here alone. You must’ve come with someone right. Like a friend?”

Before she could answer Amiyah heard a deep voice interrupt.

“Yeah she came with me my nigga.”

Looking behind her she saw Erik now in a pair of all black swimming trunks and Nike slides on his feet. He had a bucket hat on to cover his eyes from the sun. He was holding a Corona beer in his free hand as he sipped not taking his eyes off of Ryan. Seeing his abs glistening from what seems to appear as body oil Amiyah clench her thighs as his muscles flexed effortlessly.

Ryan glanced between the two. He looked at Erik before turning his gaze back on Amiyah.

“Damn and you was gonna let me talk to you knowing you had a nigga. That’s fucked up ma.” He shook his head.

“Hold on that’s not my man-“

“Baby just cause we had that little fight back in the room don’t mean we not together. Stop acting like a brat.” Erik cut her off sitting on her chair. One of his hands went to touch her inner thigh catching her off guard.

Ryan grabbed his towel and held his hands up in a surrender position.

“I don’t know what the fuck y’all got going on but that’s between y’all.” He stated and walked away.

Amiyah quickly slapped Erik’s hand away. She watched as he took a sip of his beer before folding over his lap and laughing.

“What? Why you looking at me like that?” He asked through his chuckle.

“Because you lied talking about some fight that we had in a room. Really Erik? Why would you say that?” She folded her arms.

Erik waved her off leaning on his left elbow facing her. “It’s not like you would have like the ugly ass nigga anyway. I was doing you a favor.”

“He was not ugly.”

“Well he damn sure wasn’t your type.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then what���s my type since you think you know me?”

“Nobody else but me. I’m the only nigga you should be fucking with.”

Amiyah couldn’t tell if it was him that was actually talking or the liquor. All she knows is that he was making very bold statements for someone who invited a female friend on a trip with him.

“Erik have you forgotten what you did? Bringing Harmony out here and yet you expect me to not meet or have anybody. You lost your mind?” Amiyah shook her head not believing the audacity that he had.

Erik sighed sitting up. “Amiyah it’s not what it looks like. I only did to throw your brother off. That night I came to y’all crib he was asking questions and getting suspicious. Next thing I know he asked me to come with you guys and I invited her.” He paused touching her hand gently.

“I promise it wasn’t to hurt you.”

The genuineness in his voice sounded sincere but Amiyah still couldn’t help but to be confused on why he would invite her knowing how she felt about Harmony. Her feelings were pretty clear the night of the party.

“Erik I know you’re not trying to intentionally hurt me but seeing her here with you just made me feel a certain way. We’re supposed to be here for my birthday week so excuse me if I’m having a hard time adjusting to this new person that came out of no where.” Standing up Amiyah started to walk away until she felt a hand grab her wrist.

“Miyah don’t hold this against me. I was really hoping we could talk. To straighten things out.” His stare became apologetic.

“I don’t know if-“

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” A light voice shouted catching their attention. They turned to see Harmony walking towards them in her light orange bikini.

Amiyah’s eyes averted to her white painted toe nails. It was going to be a tough week to get through with her being around. But she couldn’t blame Harmony. Erik was the reason for her being here.

Erik smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah I was just out here talking to the birthday girl.”

Harmony sat her belongings down and wrapped her arms around Erik’s torso. Standing on her tippy toes she leaned up to kiss his lips. Erik caught off by the action pulled away and chuckled nervously. When Harmony noticed she made a face before turning towards Amiyah.

“Hey girl! You ready to celebrate your birthday tomorrow?” She smiled trying to start a conversation.

The moment Harmony was invited by Erik to go on this vacation with him she was shocked but thrilled about them taking the next step in their situation-ship. But when she found out the reason behind it she immediately had a bad feeling about going. Harmony wasn’t much of a fan of Amiyah. On the night of the Valentines Day bash she could feel the tension between Erik and Amiyah. It felt as if they had history and were trying to ignore it. She wasn’t suspicious until she seen them leave the V.I.P section one after the other. That’s when she put two and two together.

“I am. Tomorrow is gonna be great actually. I have a few things planned out for us. You know like Jet ski-ing, tubing, snorkeling, stuff like that.” Amiyah spoke through her forced smile. A relief came over her when she saw Kelley walking back with her drinks in her hand.

“Here you go. They said this was highly recommended.” She handed over a slushy drink that was in a cut out pineapple.

Amiyah happily received it and played with her straw before sipping. “Thanks.”

“Well all of that sounds fun and I can’t wait. I’m glad Erik decided to ask me to join you guys.” Harmony stated tugging onto him.

Kelley rolled her eyes and looked her up and down. Her gaze then shot to Erik’s who was wearing a guilty expression all over his face. She shook her head slowly and gave him a look.

“Yeah and I hope you enjoy your time being here.” Amiyah could feel a little bit of both hurt and jealousy coming over her. Putting on a poker face was the best way to hide her feelings.

“Durk told me that we were also doing a big dinner for you out by the water.” Erik finally spoke up.

“We are, you thinking about inviting anyone else?” Kelley asked him with her eyebrows raised.

Erik ignored her as he focused on Amiyah. He read her body language knowing that she was uncomfortable. He was starting to regret on making the decision of bringing Harmony along. He was only doing it to cover face instead of thinking about how she would feel.

Amiyah lightly brushed against Kelley hoping she would catch her drift. It was her way of signaling her to chill out.

“Yes Erik we’re having dinner and you both are welcome to join.”

“We appreciate the invitation girl.” Harmony smiled before turning to Erik. “Hey, let’s go to the beach. Please?” She pouted.

Erik chewed on his lower lip out of habit. “Yeah I was heading there anyway.”

“Perfect. Alright ladies, we’ll see you later.” Taking his hand she pulled him away towards the beach.

Kelley and Amiyah stood in place and watched the two walk away.

“Can’t believe the nerve of that nigga. That’s okay because we are gonna find you a new man for the week. Like the one that came and talked to you earlier.”

Amiyah turn towards her to see a smirk covering her face. “So you did see him?”

“Girl I noticed his fine ass the minute we came out here and I just know Erik probably fucked it up for you the second I seen him.”

Amiyah giggled nodding her head. “He told him he was my man.”

Kelley rolled her eyes. “Typical. But I spotted him on the other side by that grill and bar place. You wanna go see if he’s still there?”

Amiyah smiled knowing that her best friend was willing to do anything to get her back into good spirits. Taking a long sip of her drink she allowed the liquor to linger through her body making her relaxed.

“Let’s go.”

If Erik could have his fun then so would she.

______________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes! (Needs to be edited)

I know this chapter is short but next one is gonna be long and I’m pretty sure y’all know why...👀! Yes the wait is finally over in the next chapter!!

Tag-list (Let me know if you want to be tagged for next chapter in comments)

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @themeirajay @asaanime @bellanay @skylahb @toni9 @iambabyharry @kiabialia @youlovetkay @lahuttor @kehlaniswifee @childishgambinaax @readingaddict1290 @sociallyawkward18 @iamching07 @sourbabynaee @unholyxcumbucket @ladymac82 @efonteno @shalynn-m @joanna-doe @xsweetdellzx @beautifullmelodyxx @browngirldominion @rbhp @richonne4life @luvwitoutlimit1

#homebody #black panther #erik killmonger #erik smut #erik stevens #erik x plus size reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #truglori #black panther killmonger

[g0dspeeed]

Burning Love

Request from @leoncharme 

What was supposed to be a relaxing day, turned into one of the strangest visits to Viktor’s clinic that V has ever had.

Hot grease sizzled deliciously in the large wok, the rich smell of savory noodles and synth meat churning V’s stomach even more. She stood near the food stall patiently, her eyes flitting through recent texts sent by practically every fixer in the city.

Ugh, I don’t need another fuckin’ car, she muttered as her eyes scoured all the vehicle offers made in the past few hours. Most were too tempting, too shiny, and V needed way too many eddies to make it happen anytime soon.

Deleting the final offer, V turned to take in the sight before her. The sun was high above the metropolis, caressing the Night City skyline in a golden light and warming the busy streets below. It was an easy heat, bearable, and a strong breeze cooled her off as it sifted through her hair.

Days like these were rare. Aside from the car offers, her inbox was light. There were no pressing contracts, no urgent phone calls from a fixer who needed a person shot, kidnapped, or rescued. No reminders to visit a drop box. No street races. No street fights to prepare for any time soon. Just a preem day for V to relax, eat a hot meal, and spend it with whomever she chose.

Which reminded her.

“Hey, double my order,” she requested.

The vendor nodded, and a smile tugged innocently at V’s lips.

When her noodles were ready, V paid the vendor and started towards her HELLA with a spring in her step.

Today’s gonna be a good one, she thought, allowing that bit of optimism to finally sink in. It’ll be-

A pause.

V barely heard it.

There.

Again, there it was.

The second time there was no mistaking the sound.

A high pitch yelp had caught her attention, followed by a low, pained moan. The source was near, but how close V couldn’t tell. She listened some more, but nothing stood out amongst the traffic.

Part of her thought to ignore it, both the sound and that damned intuition in her gut that said that something was wrong. Agony on the streets of Night City was as common as graffiti and a systemic issue far too big for V to remedy on her own, despite her impulsive need to save nearly everyone she comes across. V helped when she was able and often when she was barely so. Just her nature. Or more so a savior complex.

After lingering for a few more moments V decided to move on. Her noodles were getting cold after all.

Just as her hand pulled on the car’s handle, the sound ruptured again in a louder, more alarming pitch.

This time V quickly whipped around to scan the area with her optics. A tinted blue swept her vision, focus fleeting from object to object in view. It was there, resting against a bench that she spotted him. A clearly distressed man in a white and pink striped shirt was hunched over, sweat glistening on his forehead above a pair of violet visors. A gold chain dangled from his neck, catching a sun beam.

V stepped closer, but right before she could ask him what the hell his problem was, her voice caught in her throat.

Cupping his crotch, the man was naked from the waist down save for a pair of black tennis shoes.

V gasped.

Unfortunately, the stranger heard her. The man turned around and spotted the frozen merc, something like relief laxing his tense expression.

“Hey!” he cried.

He shuffled forward.

V shuffled back.

Her eyes tried to look at anything but what was in his hands. Anything at all.

“Hey, you!” he cried again. “I got to get to a ripper…”

The man’s whole body was trembling, and his voice was overflowing of desperation. She slowly allowed her eyes to fall upon his sweaty face as he panted, seeing his throat bob with each swallow.

Her pity outran her common sense.

“Alright,” V replied, discomfort heavy in her tone and eyes trying their best to look up towards the clouds.

“Great!” he heaved.

V’s brain was still trying to register her predicament, let alone the fact that she agreed to let this half-naked stranger into her car.

“Why’re we standing here?” the man stammered. “To the car! Now!”

A cry left him with enough volume to snap V to her senses.

Quickly, she slid into the driver’s seat. The lunch was placed in the back while her brain was trying to conjure up the fastest way to the nearest ripperdoc.

Though she knew exactly what ripperdoc was the closest, she hesitated. She hated this for him, hated that this weird-ass situation was what she was going to bring to his doorstep. V tried to think of any other clinic that was nearby, anyone at all who was available on such short notice. The reality was, however, that this was an emergency. Any moment the guy’s crotch could set her car ablaze, and ultimately her first option was the best.

When the passenger door slammed shut, dread had already started to climb up from her stomach into her tightening throat.

“Ugh,” groaned the man as their vehicle picked up speed. “Satisfaction guaranteed, they said…”

Ah, she thought. Of course.

V asked if he was referring to the Mr. Stud implant, the provocative ad flashing in her brain. When he confirmed her guess, she hummed in validation. He thanked her for her professionalism, for not being too judgey, given the circumstances. That was the most cordiality her newfound client provided, however, because for the rest of their short ride there was more screaming, moaning, and the demand that she mow down a class of children and pretty much everyone who dared cross their path. Telling him to chill the fuck out didn’t get her anywhere, nor did some scripted words of encouragement.

“Oh, it burns! It burns!” he near screamed, hurting V’s ears.

The moment they arrived at the clinic V didn’t waste any time. She quickly grabbed the bag from the backseat and directed the man to the green, neon sign on the other side of the alley.

“W-Where are you going?” he panted as she took off towards the clinic ahead of him.

“Giving the doc a heads up!” she called from over her shoulder. “Just come this way!”

Two steps at a time, V practically threw herself to the bottom of the clinic’s stairs. Stumbling, she burst inside, the metal gate grinding loudly through its shaft.

Viktor was already on his feet, no doubt startled at the commotion she was causing. Something between a smile and pure shock was spread on the ripperdoc’s face as he greeted the merc.

“Hey, V, where’s the fire-”

“I brought you lunch!”

V moved past him to toss their meal on his workbench. Some of his tools fell loudly to the floor.

“Aw, thanks, kid,” he said with a small smile, allowing himself to be touched by the gesture despite the rising chaos that was building in his clinic. “What’s going-”

“I also brought you a patient!”

Before the words registered, a harsh cry echoed in the large space. Viktor’s eyes snapped to the entrance of the clinic where a sweaty, half-naked man was leaning on the gate’s frame. The man’s hands were planted in the apex of his thighs. A sudden spark caused his body to jolt.

Like a switch, Viktor’s focus became sharp and alert.

“V, the chair,” demanded Viktor. “Stat.”

The merc grimaced as she hoisted the stranger up and led him to the operating chair. Viktor had already sanitized his hands and arms with a quick drying antiseptic by the time the man collapsed in place.

“Due to your compromised state,” began Viktor in a flat drone. V winced at how Viktor shoved his usual stimulant into his forearm, leaving behind a rounded wound that would join the other scars. “I am obligated to act on Article 23.4 of NUSA’s Good Samaritan Law to provide emergency medical care-”

“Shit,” moaned the man, his hands gripping hard at the armrests. “W-What the hell are you talking about? Just do your fuckin’ job!”

“Preem,” muttered the ripperdoc as he jabbed the man’s upper thigh with his medgun. The man yelped. “Pain should subside now.”

V suppressed a smile in response to the dry look that Vik shot her.

“Grab me two ‘Dorphs from that shelf,” he told her, a finger from his exoglove pointing in a general direction. “Need Beauts.”

“On it.”

As V searched his supply, Viktor gathered information from his new patient.

Despite knowing the ripperdoc for as long as she had and walking in on countless operations, seeing Viktor work in such a controlled, level manner calmed V’s nerves as well. A voice as rich as honey had that effect on people. The man made ripper work look easy, multitasking between running diagnostics, checking vitals, and laying a thin, surgical drape on the man’s exposed lap. Viktor kept the conversation flowing, delivering timely ‘mhms’ and repeating specs aloud for the recording program of his computer. He had an ease to his voice, something tranquil and trustworthy, even as Viktor pushed against the man’s chest when the guy tried to rise from the chair.

“Jesse,” warned Viktor calmly. “Easy there.”

If he wanted to put up a real fight, V doubted that Jesse had a chance against Viktor. The patient’s body squirmed under the force of one arm alone.

“Doc, doc, doc, you need to operate,” Jesse argued. “You n-need to-”

“Jesse,” Viktor snapped, and in response the man immediately stilled. Jesse’s lids seemed to then get heavier and his shoulders slumped.

“There we go,” soothed the ripperdoc with a smirk, his body stretching on his rolling stool. “Took your body a while. I gave you a little cocktail of mine, the Vektor special. Should feel nothin’ but good now.”

V set the requested meds on a metal table by his stool. Viktor grabbed one, shook it, and handed it wordlessly to his patient.

Turning on her heel, V was about to dismiss herself from the situation. Her role was fulfilled. The guy was maybe gonna be okay, and even though V interrupted several of Viktor’s appointments, she could at least attempt to respect Doctor-Patient confidentiality. The flaming crotch man seemed like a great place to start.

Just as she started to walk away, she felt a tight grip on her wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” said Viktor lowly, fingers giving a gentle squeeze. “I’ll need ya to stick around for this one, kiddo.”

“Think you got it, Vik,” she said with a grin. “Flaming dicks aren’t really my thing.”

“Oh, I know I got it,” he returned. “And flaming dicks aside, I’d rather have a second pair of hands should things head south. Normally I’d call for Misty, but she’s out today. Besides…”

Viktor rolled in closer to V, an air of confidence about him. V’s eyes narrowed.

“Would love to see you play nurse,” he purred.

A warmth stung her cheeks as she took her wrist back.

“So long as I don’t have to wear an outfit, I’ll help,” she quipped.

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

The huskiness of his voice made her blush even more.

Viktor winked up at V before he turned his full attention back to his sedated patient.

Her attention, too, travelled back to Jesse as he huffed the med. Then, they fell on the surgical drape in his lap.

“So,” she prompted. “His dick was about to explode.”

Viktor hummed in agreement.

“You don’t, uh, seem that worried about it,” she went on.

A chuckle.

Even Jesse in his laxed state, sat up a bit for an explanation.

“We’re in the clear for now,” answered Viktor. More so to the patient, he added, “Now that you’re calm, your blood pressure isn’t forcing that faulty equipment to activate. Should be smooth sailing if you stay as relaxed as possible.”

“Oh, okay,” replied Jesse dumbly, no longer looking Viktor in the eye, but instead gazing up at the dark ceiling. “Um, what are, what are you going to do exactly, doc?”

“Gonna take that shitty tech out of your junk, Jess, that’s what. Guessing you got it for a steal, right? Black market shit? Some word from the Wise: Don’t ever accept tech that’s too good to be true. Ever. Especially if it’s an implant like this. I mean, you’re lookin’ at a few potential side effects that I can talk to you about after the procedure-”

“Wait, you can’t, like, fix it?”

Viktor sighed.

“Uh, no,” he replied flatly. “Not my specialty. And I don’t plan on being held liable for whatever, eh, works and doesn’t work. I can refer you to a guy I know in Charter Hill though.”

Jesse pouted in response, but after seeing how Viktor wasn’t going to budge on the issue, he consented to the procedure.

As time went by, V kept busy by fetching Viktor whatever supply he requested, whether it be more drugs, sutures, or gauze. Which was fine and ultimately best considering the kind of operation that was taking place. Not that V became squeamish around the sight and smell of blood, no. That wasn’t it. Just the nature of it all, that Vik was repairing a poor man’s augmented penis.

So much for a relaxing, care-free day.

The only saving grace to it all was seeing Viktor in his element. The man shined. He kept Jesse talking, eyes meeting his patient’s and on the monitor in equal measure, while also sounding personable and sincere. They exchanged stories about interests, about boxing matches they’ve seen, hobbies, some boring topics, some piquing her curiosity. Viktor’s voice held the same steadiness no matter the subject, and V’s heart warmed at watching him work with such care. Though she’s been in his operating chair herself probably hundreds of times, it was something special to see him work with someone else, to witness him calm even the most panicked of souls.

A goofy laugh gushed from Jesse, no doubt feeling the effects of all the medication.

“Ah man, you’re just so sexy,” he blurted.

V blinked at the realization that the comment was directed at her.

A listless ‘Mm’ was all she offered.

Viktor kept working, attributing the outburst to the drugs.

“I mean it!” said Jesse, misreading the woman’s lack of response. “You are just so gorgeous. So, so breathtaking. And you helped me-”

“I expect to be paid,” V reminded him.

“Yes, yes, and you deserve to. Yes, you deserve to! Doesn’t she deserve to be paid?”

Viktor offered a close-lipped smile in agreement, preferring to finish the operation as soon as humanly possible with the turn the conversation had taken. Just a few more stitches-

“Do you do advertisements?” continued Jesse, nearly sounding manic. “Do you? A supermodel maybe? You know, like a side gig sorta thing?”

V snorted.

“Nope, can’t say I would even want to, Jesse.”

“Huh, well, you should think about it. You would make a shit ton of eddies if you did, probably more than merc work. Not to objectify you, but like, you totally have the bod for the job.”

Viktor glanced up at V after that comment, his blood boiling at how Jesse’s advice rendered her speechless.

Not missing an awkward beat, Jesse then asked “So are ya single? Or is dating not your thing?”

V squared her shoulders.

“Don’t think you need to know that-”

“Come on! Gimme a hint. I mean, no judgment if you don’t date.”

“Good to know.”

“Yeah, I can keep it loose. What about you?”

Viktor’s jaw started to ache from how hard it was clenched.

“Actually,” said V, her voice perking up. “I am dating someone. And I like the guy. A lot. Pretty solid, so not really looking for anything else right now-”

In a voice that Viktor could only assume was supposed to be a whisper, Jesse said, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im-”

A clank.

Viktor had put down a pair of surgical scissors so loudly that both Jesse and V jumped.

“V?” questioned the ripperdoc in a terse tone. “Mind grabbin’ our patient here a low-dose ‘Dorph for the road? ‘Bout finished up.”

A heavy sigh of relief left the merc as she headed towards the back of the clinic.

“You’ll need to take two huffs now and two more in an hour or so, okay?” said Viktor to Jesse, annoyed at catching Jesse’s eyes trailing after V.

“That woman,” he started to say, clearly missing what Viktor had said about the meds. “For such a smart mouth, she’s got a great ass, am I right-”

Without warning, Viktor’s fingers smacked the side of Jesse’s face with enough force to make him flinch. Stunned, Jesse immediately looked at Viktor.

Eyes locked on Jesse, Viktor called out to V.

“Hey, V? See any more of that stim I use? You know, the one that I need in case my hand slips?”

Some shuffling sounded from the back.

“Um, yeah,” she shouted. “Why?”

“I just did a lot of good work here on Jesse’s dick. Would hate for something to happen to it at the finish line.”

Jesse swallowed as he could feel the outline of Viktor’s intense stare past the tinted lenses. The ripperdoc sat close to his patient and spoke in a voice so dark that it made Jesse’s hair rise on the back of his neck.

“You’re my patient now, but the moment you step out of here, you’re just any other asshole on the street that hits on V in front of my face. Difference between now and then is that I’ll kick your goddamn teeth out on the curb should I hear another word out of that mouth of yours ‘bout how hot she looks and what the fuck she does with her body. You will pay her. Don’t care if you pay me, but unless you wanna know what the Bradbury sidewalk tastes like I better hear from V by the end of the day that you paid her in full for bringing you into my clinic today or so help you God I don’t find you and get those eddies myself.”

Jesse swallowed before nodding his head.

The only sound that could be heard in the clinic was V’s footsteps. She found it odd how still the men were sitting and how Jesse didn’t acknowledge her presence once she returned to the operating chair.

“Here,” she said to the ripperdoc, but Viktor shook his head at the stimulant she brought.

“You know, I actually think I won’t need it. He’s all set and ready to go. Aren’t you, Jesse?”

The guy would have some balls to respond. As expected, Jesse remained quiet. The ripperdoc’s back popped as he rose slowly from the stool, his body stiff from operating. He continued stretching as he walked towards the locker room area of his clinic to fetch Jesse a pair of stocked sweats that he set aside for patients.

V gave Viktor a questioning look and was met only with another classic wink.

“About my payment,” she began, turning her attention back to Jesse.

Still refusing to look her in the eye, Jesse stated, “I’ll get it to you in an hour.”

The man quickly dressed, thanked Viktor for his services, and rushed out of the clinic without looking back. Based on the smugness that Viktor carried himself with as he wiped down his workspace, V caught onto what happened.

With V’s help, the clinic was cleaned and prepped for the next fortunate soul who sought out Viktor’s care.

The pair were lounging on the ripperdoc’s crusty couch in the back of the clinic, their feet propped up on a stack of boxes with lukewarm takeout in hand.

“Not a fan of Jesse’s career advice, I take it?” teased V with a grin.

Viktor glowered as he swallowed a mouthful of noodles.

“Not a fan of really any advice he gave, no,” he replied coolly.

“Might lose future business,” she mocked, but he was already shaking his head.

“It’s all good. I’m eating lunch with a supermodel. Life can’t get any sweeter.”

#viktor vektor #Victor Vector #Viktor Vector #Victor Vektor #cyberpunk 2077 #ripperdoc #whats a short fic

[occasionalfics]

touch every star (2)

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ao3 | previous | next

Pairing: Thor X Cinderella!Reader AU

A/N: To those who are reading, thank you! I’m so glad y’all are liking this 💖 Feel free to comment and message me with thoughts if you’d like!

Warnings: Lots of angst, a really, really shitty boss, but overall this is probably the most pure fic I’ve ever written?

Words: 2,643

//

You’re cordially invited to Stark Industries’ Annual Christmas Extravaganza/Charity Gala. Donations optional, but appreciated.

She stared at the email, blinking mindlessly at it for at least three minutes. She’d never been invited to one of these galas before - she figured it was because she was just a secretary and couldn’t afford to make a donation for a charity gala.

But this year, she was on the list. She checked the addresses and CCs and, yup, this email had been personally sent to her. Personally - but most likely from an automated system. Still, hers was the only email listed to be sent to. Someone had put her email in there on purpose (or maybe an accident, but still...she was invited).

She wondered what she’d wear. She didn’t have anything black tie, didn’t have time or money to go shopping. Maybe Nat would have something. Or Wanda, but more than likely, Nat.

She couldn’t go, though. Could she? A secretary from the Accounting offices? Did she mean anything? Enough to be invited to the holiday gala?

Apparently, yes. She knew Nat and Wanda would insist on her going. Her two best friends were kind of like her fairy godmothers. They watched out for her whenever she needed them, encouraged her whenever she felt unsure or insecure, and promised to help her wherever they could. She’d done the same for them, but she was far less well off than they were.

After all, Nat was literally a model and Wanda was making a name for herself as a successful up and coming photographer. Y/N was just a secretary.

As if to remind her of that fact, Jasper Sitwell was suddenly standing in front of her desk. He cleared his throat and glared down at her, one eyebrow raised over the thick rim of his glasses.

“Are you going to sit there motionless all day or are you going to get to work?” he asked.

Man, she hated him. But he’d drilled into her head that he could ruin her with a simple few words. He’d told her nothing if not that he was in charge of her while she was on the clock, and if she didn’t do everything he asked, she’d be out on the street before she could make it to the lobby.

She moved immediately, picking up the papers from the night before to sort through them. “Sorry, Mr. Sitwell,” she muttered, starting piles across her desk for different people throughout the office.

“I saw you stayed late last night,” he said, a little less abrasive but just as cool. “Got everything done?”

She nodded. “Yes, Mr. Sitwell.”

“Good.” She looked up at him in time to see him pull out two sheets of paper, which he placed in her inbound box on the corner of her desk. “I want all of this finished on time today.” With that, he walked into his office without so much as a second glance.

She sighed. The list from yesterday had been one page, single spaced, and it had still taken her almost twelve hours to complete. She’d skipped taking a lunch break and ate while she’d worked, too.

She could only imagine how long this list would take. But first, she still had to sort through the papers from last night and deliver them correctly.

---

Thor had taken bits of pieces of his conversation with Frigga to heart. Just the parts that weren’t directly set up to make him feel guilty for having a high-energy, fast-paced job.

He knew he had to take care of himself. Better care, anyway. He knew he couldn’t sustain twelve and thirteen-hour workdays forever. And, as annoying as Frigga’s nagging about him starting a family was, he did want to start a family. 

He wanted a partner he could come home to, in all senses of the word. Someone kind and generous, that he could care for as much as they cared for him. A true partner. As much as he respected his parents’ relationship, he didn’t want what they had. He wanted something better.

And as he thought on that, his mind drifted to the girl from last night. It was silly of him to imagine her in that spot, given he literally didn’t even know her name, but he couldn’t help himself. Thor’d always been something of a Romantic - even in his college Frat years, he’d imagined a future with a real human, whereas most of his Brothers just wanted easy lays and Trophy Wives.

Loki had always poked his side for stuff like that. But Loki was Loki, and it was hard to know exactly what his idea of a perfect home might be one day.

Thor was thinking of that girl when Tony Stark himself made an appearance in his office. Normally, Tony called people to him, not the other way around, but they both knew Thor was a special circumstance. They were part of a little group of directors and executives - friends, really - so it wasn’t so much of a surprise to Thor that Tony was interrupting his daydream with a pristine white envelope.

“Most people got invites through their email, so appreciate my efforts to come down here. But this year, thanks to Steve, everyone is invited.”

Thor smiled and took the envelope, and despite knowing what was inside, opened it. The annual holiday gala was always a charity event, so usually it was their little group and the board of directors mingling with some celebrities and the like. People with lots of money. Not because Tony didn’t appreciate every one of his employees, really, though Thor didn’t know why this was the first year everyone in the company was included.

“I think that’s a good thing,” Thor said. “Steve’s got some good ideas, you know.”

Tony completely ignored that. He perched himself on one of the chairs facing Thor’s desk and, in his cool and unaffected tone, asked, “So you gonna bring someone? It’s a masquerade this year, you know. Gotta bring a hot date and lose her in the crowd or...some such nonsense.”

He laughed at that, but shook his head. “You know I’m not seeing anyone this year.”

“Oh good because, with so many new people there, you’ll be just single enough to pick someone up.” 

“You’re as bad as my mother,” Thor said. “Did you know that?”

Tony gave him one of those half-smiles, like he’d expected Thor to say as much. “You’re not the first to say so, believe it or not. That I sound like your mother.”

They laughed together, and it took Thor a moment to realize how long it’d been since he’d seen his friends. Too long. They were all busy people but they all worked at the same company, for the same man who was in their group and sitting directly across from him at that very moment.

A gala would be nice. And maybe Tony was right.

After all, if everyone was invited, maybe Elevator Girl would show up. The only problem was that he didn’t know anything about her except that she worked on his floor and that he could recall what she looked like. A mask - kind of required for a masquerade - would make it that much harder for him to find her.

Tony sighed. “Anyway. I’m sure you’re busy - what’d you call it? - ‘protecting our asses’ and all, so I’ll leave you to it. Maybe one day this week we’ll do lunch.” His eyebrows rose expectantly, and Thor hesitantly nodded.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll have my people call your people.”

And with that, he was gone.

---

She managed to finish before six, but well after five. The list was complete - thankfully, most of the tasks Sitwell had left were short or easy to do - and the office was empty, so she sighed and slipped her heels off. The blisters were worse today, but she’d thought ahead and brought a pair of plain flats to change into for the walk/ride home.

As she came up to the elevator, she couldn’t help but look from one end of the hall to the other. There were more people around than the night before, but not the man she was looking for.

The man from last night.

Y/N knew she shouldn’t be thinking about him. She didn’t know anything about him, other than he took the elevator from her floor. Once.

But he’d been nice last night, and he hadn’t done anything at all to warrant her running. If anything, she wanted to be able to apologize for scampering away like a deer in headlights because it hadn’t been polite. Even if she didn’t owe him an explanation, she wanted the chance to give one anyway.

He didn’t show, though. She figured he’d already gone home or something, because the elevator doors opened and no one stepped out onto her floor or anything. The four people already on the elevator looked at her expectantly, so she got on and turned to face the doors without a word.

No one attempted conversation. Hardly anyone moved. Two more people squeezed in before they hit the lobby, then everyone rushed out and onto the street.

Her ride home was just as lonely. No one on MTA ever stopped to talk, except the buskers and musicians that, at least tonight, avoided her car. 

She shouldn’t have taken it personally. No one ever talked to her on the subway because it was New York - everyone kept to themselves and that was how the city worked. She’d never thought twice about it, but something about missing that man - the dashingly handsome man she’d spent all of ten minutes with tops - made her feel heavy as she stepped up onto the street again.

She bit her tongue as she turned a corner to head up her block. She wasn’t going to cry. She couldn’t. It was stupid to cry over nothing like this. If she were upset about Sitwell or something, she’d let herself do it, but right now she was sad about...nothing at all. A missed opportunity.

She knew what would make her feel better. Her mind drifted to the email from this morning. Maybe it was silly, but the reminder of that invitation did make her feel better. Had her walking taller, shoulders back, teeth biting into her bottom lip to keep from smiling.

Oh, she wanted to go to the gala. Donation or no, she was determined. Maybe she’d meet the man from the elevator again, or maybe she’d met the Tony Stark. She’d read the email back six times over the day, so she knew full well that it was a masquerade, but she was still excited.

So excited that Nat could tell something was up the second she stepped through the door. And Nat, being relentless and stubborn, managed to convince Y/N to sit on the couch and spill all the details she had in absolutely no time.

“Holy shit,” Nat said when she’d finished. “You never get invited to Stark parties!”

“I mean, I’m not on the board or an heiress or anything so I get it,” she responded, shrugging. “Some of my coworkers think it’s basically an open invitation this year.”

“And it’s a masquerade!” Nat practically squealed, which made Y/N even more excited than she already had been.

Y/N nodded, the tiniest bit of embarrassment seeping into her joy. She cleared her throat before she said, “I, uh. Kinda need help finding something to wear.”

Nat stood up so quickly she nearly toppled over. But she was lithe and graceful - a former dancer - so she caught herself quickly and turned toward her bedroom.

“Where’re you going?” Y/N asked, trying to follow with her eyes.

“Getting my bag and shoes - we’re going shopping!”

Wanda appeared at that. She asked what all the noise was about, and before Y/N could even attempt to resist or refuse, Nat was back and informed her of everything. Between the two of them, Y/N knew there was no way she’d get out of this.

Nat texted someone as she headed for the door. She sent the message, then looked up at Y/N with a smirk and nodded for Wanda to join them.

“Where’re you going?” Y/N asked.

“We,” Nat answered. “And it’s not even eight. Most stores are still open, but I’ve got an in at one in particular.”

---

“I don’t know,” she murmured, moving the skirt around. “It seems like a lot.”

“Babe, you’re going to a black tie charity gala,” Wanda said. “It’s all gonna be a lot.”

She looked at her reflection and sighed for the millionth time. The dress was gorgeous, she couldn’t deny it. Deep cut and embellished, the soft material flowed around her in light floral patterns and it all made her feel…

Well, she knew what she should feel. She should see her reflection and think Princess, but that had never described her. Nat and Wanda were the only ones in her life that looked at her and saw more than she did, so it didn’t surprise her that they liked the dress.

And she liked it, too. Loved it, actually. The dress itself was amazing, but on her… She couldn’t help but think she was dragging it down. Or, as a consultant on Say Yes to the Dress might say, the dress was wearing her, not the other way around.

“You look hot,” Nat said, standing to walk around the stool Y/N was perched on. “This color is perfect for your skin tone and I have a headband that would go so well.”

“I need a mask,” she responded. She said it like...like it was an excuse not to buy this dress. As if a mask couldn’t be found or made to match it.

Her friends, however, were not going to let her leave empty handed. And they both loved this dress. The last two had gotten nods of approval, but not like this. Not warranting both Nat and Wanda standing at her sides, watching the mirror with her, both moving the skirt around with smiles.

“I’ll take care of the mask,” Wanda said. “You should get this dress.”

“I’m only gonna wear it once-”

“Or we can find you another event to wear it to. Or one of us will wear it next.”

“Exactly,” Nat said. “So, really, what’re you scared of?”

“The price-”

“We’ll help.” Wanda smiled softly, and before Y/N could attempt to deny the offer, she held a hand up. “We want to help. Besides, if we put in some money that gives us more incentive to want to wear the dress so we can all get a use out of it, right?”

“It’s too nice for me.”

“That’s just a blatant lie,” Nat said. “Y/N, you look fucking amazing. We should all get this dress. You’ll just be the first one to wear it.”

She did have to admit to herself that that sounded...fair. Maybe not conventional, but fair. Fair enough that she could hold herself a little higher, stretch her neck a little longer and really see what her friends were seeing. Once she stopped questioning whether she was worthy of such a dress and just enjoyed being in it, she could see herself walking into the gala in it, the hem flowing around her heels as all eyes turned on her. No one would know who she was unless they worked with her, and even then, she’d be wearing a mask.

She’d look mysterious. Pretty. Sexy, even.

Like Nat, who’d have to have the dress taken in a little after Y/N and Wanda wore it, but she probably knew people for that, too.

“So?” Wanda asked.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

#thor fanfic #touch every star fic #touch every star #cinderella au #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader

[thecleverdame]

This Is Not A Fairy Tale - Two

Alpha!Prince!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Masterlist

Summary: You’re a suppressed Omega who is forced into servitude after the death of your father. Your stepmother Naomi is a heartless woman who forces you to do the cooking and cleaning, while she tries to marry off her own two daughters, Alex and Claire. But your life takes a wonderful and dangerous turn when you meet the charming Prince Sam who also happens to be an Alpha.

Warnings: ABO smut, abuse, death of parents, magic

Beta:  ilikaicalie  

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

-

“What is wrong with you?” Dean watches his brother with a skeptical eye. “You’re this worked up about some girl you met in a field?”

“It’s more than that.” Sam looks around, ensuring they’re alone. “She’s an Omega,” he whispers.

“What?” Dean scoffs, then chuckles at the absurdity of it. “Now you’re just making things up.”

“I swear to you.” Sam is earnest, breathing fast and sweating as he looks Dean head-on. “I’ve never felt anything like it in my life.”

“You’re serious…” Dean inspects his brother. “How do you know?”

“Because I could feel her. Like how the air is alive when there’s lightning in the sky. And her scent was incomparable. No Beta has ever come close. And when I touched her, it was-”

“Touched her?” Dean smirks, then whistles. “Things progressed quickly I see.”

“You had to be there to understand, the attraction was consuming.”

“It must have been for you, a crown prince, to fuck some servant girl in the middle of a field.”

“My God.” Sam rolls his eyes. “I didn’t take her dignity there in the dirt. We just...touched.”

“I don’t need to hear any more details.” Dean raises both hands in caution. He shakes his head and pours them both a drink. “How can you be sure she was really an Omega? We’ve never met one before.”

“If you had smelled her, felt her, you’d know. She was breathtaking. I have to find her, Dean.”

“I can’t believe you let her run off.”

“She was out of sight before I could get to my horse and give chase.”

“Why would she run?”

“Any number of reasons.” Sam has given this a lot of thought.  “Perhaps I was too forward. She seemed scared of something.”

“Well, any Omega tucked away in some country home is quite the secret. How old would you say she was?”

“I can’t be sure. Twenty-five, maybe older, perhaps younger.”

“Twenty-five? How the hell has she managed to keep herself hidden for that long?”

Omegas are sought after, snatched up by powerful, wealthy Alphas as soon as they come of age. While Dean has never met one, he’s heard the stories. It’s unbelievable that an Omega would make it past her fifteenth birthday without being claimed, forget twenty-five.

It would, however, make you a perfect match for his brother. Sam has just turned thirty-five and the older he gets the more he suffers. Alphas are meant to pair off, and he should have chosen a Beta long ago. He almost did, several times but couldn’t quite bring himself to make the final commitment. As he’s aged his ruts have grown more intense. If he doesn’t mate soon he’ll begin the descent into something darker, more feral. A primordial throwback to their ancestors and their parents will never allow that. The pressure has been on for some time for Sam to find a wife.

And you, well, once discovered you wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter. All Omegas end up as mates to royalty or someone with powerful connections. Out of the options you might have, Sam is the best-case scenario. That goes without saying.

“I hate to say this, but has it occurred to you that someone has been keeping her? A duke or baron has been using her for their own. It could be the reason she ran.”

“I don’t know.”

Sam’s stomach goes tight at the very thought of someone else touching you, hurting you. He can still see your face, those shining eyes, and shy smile. There was an inherent innocence to you, the way you responded to his touch, the way you looked at him.

“I know she was terrified of being in trouble. She said she needed to get home before someone returned.”

“Well, let’s go find her.” Dean shrugs, tipping back the final vestiges of his drink. “We’ll start at the tree where you met her and search all the houses in the area. Shouldn’t take more than a day.”

-

Dean’s plan was a good one, with one exception; Sam can’t find his way back to the spot where he met you.

His rut is days away but in preparation he often goes for long rides to clear his head, leaving at dawn and not returning until after the sun has set. He rode for hours and hours that day, taking every side trail and galloping across meadows. He only stopped when he came across the willow tree because he was starving and needed to eat.

He found his way to you by chance and now he can’t retrace his steps for the life of him.

“Which way do you think you would have gone?” Dean asks. “Use your instincts.”

The brothers sit side by side on horseback. The trail ahead of them forks off in half a dozen directions.

“The far path to the right I think...no wait...I’m not sure.” Sam runs a hand over his face.

Being with you for such a short time only to be ripped away feels like a simmering panic. He has no idea how it’s possible that he wants someone he hardly knows with this passionate desperation, but he does.

“Maybe we should ride back from the castle. Do you remember the way you took to get home? We could backtrack.”

“I don’t think I can.” Sam balls his fist around the reigns. “I rode looking for her for an hour and then came back. I was so worked up, I don’t remember which way was which.”

“Well,” Dean nods, a hand on his hip as he thinks. “Why don’t we go home and talk to our lovely mother. She’ll be thrilled at the prospect of an Omega for you. I’m sure she’ll have a few ideas on how to find her. She always does.”

-

“What’s wrong with you?” Alex snips, tapping at the shell of her boiled egg.

“Nothing,” you murmur, snapping out of your daydream.

“She’s more melancholy than usual.” Claire gives you a smarmy little grin and butters her toast.

“Is there something wrong?” Naomi asks, resting both palms on the table. You shake your head no and pour hot water for her tea.

“Just a bit tired.” You force a smile.

The truth is you feel like death. The herbs you’re forced to drink have always sucked the life from you, but after that afternoon with Sam, it’s only gotten worse. Yesterday you could barely stay awake through lunch. You’re not ignorant. While you don’t know all the ins and outs of what you are, you understand the basic mechanics. Being around an Alpha has awakened something inside you that’s been fighting to get out for some time.

There’s a ring of the bell at the front door and you hurry to answer it. The courier is a young boy. He hands you a message and blows a sweet little kiss before scampering away. You bring the carefully rolled parchment to Naomi.

The royal seal gets her attention. That signature gold melted wax can only mean one thing.

“What is it?” Claire asks.

“Tell us what it says!” Alex chimes in, smacking her fists on the table.  

“Shh,” Naomi hushes them as she unrolls the paper and scans the message. A wide smile blooms across her face. She looks up at her daughters with bubbling excitement. Sitting up straight, she’s unable to contain the terrifying grin across her face as she reads aloud. “King John and Queen Mary cordially invite you to a royal ball in honor of Prince Samuel. Every eligible woman in the kingdom is expected to be in attendance.”

“A ball!” Alex’s eyes light up.

“Can we pick our own dresses?” Claire asks. “I shall wear my red velvet with lace trimming.”

“Do either of you realize what this means?” Naomi hisses, slapping an open palm on the table to silence the room. “They are holding a ball in honor of the prince. They’re looking for a suitable wife. It’s about time, he should have been married off long ago. But other’s poor judgment is our good fortune. My daughters, I need you to understand, you are both excellent candidates, with your background and unmatched bloodline. You are both beautiful young women. A man of his age would certainly be happy to have either of you in his bed.”

“Oh, do you think so?” Alex claps her hands together in excitement. “Well, I shall wear just a simple skirt but put my coat with the golden flowers over it and, of course, there's always my diamond necklace, which is really rather special. I imagine a prince would appreciate understated elegance.”

“Oh my God,” Claire giggles placing a hand over her mouth.

You’re frozen, hearing the sound of chattering voices but absorbing none of it. Two opposing thoughts are swimming in your head.

You let him put his hand up your skirt under a tree in the middle of a field. Any woman with any self-respect would not have invited a stranger to touch her in such a way. You came on the ground like a whore in the streets. A Prince, a man of his social graces would never want a woman who was so willing to offer up her body to the first man that came along. Sam, a man of a certain age, who needs to marry sooner rather than later. Perhaps you were a meaningless little fling before he’s expected to settle down for good.

But there’s also the other possibility. What if he were willing to overlook your scandalous encounter because of what you are? What if he’s expecting you to attend? What if this is his way of looking for you? You can scarcely stand that thought without feeling lightheaded. You felt what he felt, the charge in the air when you were near and the wild excitement when he scented you. Perhaps this is how every Omega responds to an Alpha, you wouldn’t know, but it felt like something special.

“Every eligible woman in the kingdom?” you ask and their voices go silent. The three women stare at you and Alex bursts out laughing. “I just, I’ve never been to a ball. I would like to go.”

“You?” Claire sputters, joining her sister. “Covered in muck and soot! What would you even wear?”

“She’d leave a trail of cinders behind her,” Alex snickers.

Naomi knows the gravity of your question. She understands the power of what you are even when you don’t. Any Omega, despite her title or appearance, would certainly be the first choice for an Alpha prince. And if Sam rejected you there’s a chance the King and Queen would consider annulling the marriage of their oldest son to pair him with an Omega of childbearing age.

She wants this prize for one of her own daughters and she’ll do whatever she needs to ensure you stay as far away from the royal family as possible.

“Y/N, dear,” she offers a sad little pout and extends her hand toward you. “The invitation said all eligible women. You are far from eligible. Look at you, coated in ashes and little more than skin and bones. We wouldn’t want to disrespect such a generous offer by bringing a scraggly little thing such as you, now would we? And I certainly can’t ruin your sister's chances with the Prince. This is serious.”

She only refers to Alex and Claire as your sisters when she wants to make a point.

You nod in silent understanding, holding back tears. It’s likely you will never see your handsome Prince again and you only have yourself to blame. But he’s better off with you. You’re a broken, withering woman whose life has been coming to an end for some time. You were condemned to a lifetime of misery the day you buried your father.

-

For two weeks you live the hell that is preparing Alex and Claire for the ball.

All they talk of is dresses and hairstyles and what other women will be their competition for the Prince’s attention. You try to cover up your disappointment but it gets proportionally more difficult as the date approaches. The longer you’re away from Sam the more the memory of his face fades away, and the less you can remember the details of what he felt like as doubt creeps in.

By the night of the ball, you’ve convinced yourself that you made up some preposterous connection to a man who was hoping to bed a servant girl in the woods. You’ve romanticized a man’s basic urges and created reciprocity that simply cannot exist.

“How does it look?” Alex inquires, reaching for her hand mirror and holding it up.

You slide the last hairpin into place and hold up another mirror for her to inspect your work.

“Oh, it’s actually good.” She eyes herself, pursing her lips in a practiced pout. “Not bad for someone who’s hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You brace your hands together, subduing the tremors.

“I’m next!” Claire runs into the room, pushing her sister out of the chair before taking her place. “Make it quick, we need to leave soon.”

“I’ll work as fast as I can.” Your eyes are heavy. You scrubbed pots and cleaned floors all day. Naomi picked today of all days to give the house a proper cleaning from top to bottom.

“Y/N,” Claire looks at her sister and fights back a chuckle. “Would you like to go to the ball yourself?”

“Please don’t make fun of me.” You whisper. “There’s no way I could go.”

“Quite right too: everyone would laugh to see Cinderbritches at a ball.” Both girls break out in a fit of laughter and you try to focus on her hair, instead of the sorrow swelling up inside you.

“I hate it when you call me that,” you tell them softly.

“Always so sensitive.” Claire rolls her eyes. “Hurry up! I want to get there!”

Once the girls are styled and polished Naomi loads them into the carriage and returns to the kitchen to find you.

“Have you forgotten something?” you ask, wiping your forehead of sweat as you clean a pot.

“Only one thing.” She lifts her chin, mouth in a tight grimace. “Come with me.”

You follow her down into the basement, to your makeshift room amongst the clutter.

“Over here,” she moves to the corner, bending down to pick something up. Once it’s in her hand you realize what it is. A metal chain with a cuff attached to the end.

“Don’t, please,” you panic, stepping back. “I beg you, don’t chain me up.”

“I’ll take the switch to you here and now if you don’t do as I say.”

You could run or fight, but you don’t have the energy for either so you walk over to her and watch as she kneels down and locks the metal around your ankle.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask. Tears stream down your face as you let emotion overtake you. “Please, it’s too tight. It hurts.”

“We both know what a sneaky thing you are. I remember what you were like as a girl.” She rubs her hands, looking satisfied.

“I can’t reach the fire from here, or my blankets in the corner. Will you hand them to me?”

“You’ll be fine for one night.” She sneers, looking at you as if the sight of you offends her very senses. “Take this time to think about what and who you are. Knowing her place is the best attribute a woman can have and you are nothing more than a mistake.”

She kicks the toe of her shoe into your stomach with enough force to knock the air from your lungs.  You lie on the stone, writhing in pain and sobbing in despair as the sun sets over the horizon.

-

You wake up to a small squeaking sound. When your eyes flutter open it’s dark. But after you adjust you’re met with the sight of a small white mouse nosing his way around your hand. There are plenty of nasty rats that chew holes in nearly everything, you hate those little beasts, but this small mouse has been coming to you in the evenings for a year now.

“Hello my friend,” you whisper, lying limp on the ground as a fresh tear slides over your temple. “At least I’m not alone tonight.”

You watch as the mouse cleans his tiny face with a pink paw, smiling softly at the sweetness of such a simple thing. If you die down here, at least someone will miss you, a rodent but it’s better than simply vanishing and leaving no trace.

“Hello?” A musical, airy voice calls out from somewhere upstairs. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Wiping your nose you gather your strength, propping yourself on one arm.

“Who’s there?” you yell back.

“Where are you?” The voice asks, getting closer. “I’m looking for Y/N.”

“I’m here.” You wait as soft footsteps descend toward the basement and a petit redheaded woman emerges from the dark with a flickering candle in her hand.

“What in the world are you doing down here?” She looks around and you move to sit as the chain rattles. Her eyes dart to the metal around your ankle. “Now, now, what do we have here?”

“Do you think you can help me?” you ask. “I think my stepmother keeps the key upstairs, in a jewelry box in her room.”

“Don’t be silly dear,” she crouches down, offering a genuine smile. “We don’t need all that.”

She snaps her fingers and sparks fly. In the same instant, the metal cuff falls open. You look at her in astonishment and she just smirks.

“Nothing a little magic can’t fix.”

“What are you?”

“There are many names for what I do, but I don’t like any of them. To you, I’m Rowena, your Godmother I suppose. A sort of, fairy godmother.”

“I don’t understand.” She offers her hand to help you up.

“I’ll explain. Let’s go upstairs to the fire and warm you up.”

Rowena makes you tea and explains that she knew your mother well. They grew up together in Scotland and stayed in touch throughout the years but grew farther and farther apart as time went by.

“I thought it was time I paid you a visit. I never dreamed I’d find the daughter of Ellen and Robert Singer chained up in a dirty coal room.” She pours you another cup of special tea. She insisted you drink it and as you have, the more you perk up, energy building for the first time in a long time. “Where is the lady of the house?”

“At the ball.” You sigh, looking down at the mug in your hands. “Every woman in the Kingdom was invited. The prince is expected to find his wife tonight.”

“Why are you here?”

“Look at me,” you snort. “Sam wouldn’t want to so much as look at me in this state.”

“Sam,” she coos, eyebrows wiggling. “Do I hear a hint of familiarity?”

“We met. It was only once but he was...wonderful.” You blush, swallowing the rest of the tea.

“Well, you must get you back to your prince.” Rowena spreads her arms wide. “We can’t have you sitting here dreaming of a future. You have to go out and make things happen. Take what you want from life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Look at me? What would I even wear? I couldn’t even borrow a dress, they would hang off me.”

“Don’t you worry about that.” She smiles, patting your shoulder. “I know a trick or two.”

-

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

#sam winchester x reader #alpha!sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester smut

[hj-creates]

A Possible Scandal

So, I wrote a little Laurens/Madison fic. I’ve never attempted this ship before, but @layaisdaboss requested it and it’s honestly adorable.  The link to the fic on Ao3 is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27359851 but feel free to read it here as well.

Pennsylvania, Fall of 1780

John stared out the window of the carriage as it rumbled over the cobblestones. His father, Henry, noticed his son’s dour expression and heaved a sigh. “You don’t have to pout you know, I promise you only have to stay a week or so.”

“I should be back with my men on the front lines.”

“There are many ways to fight for your country, my boy. Not all of them involve risking your life on the battlefield.”

“It suits me better then pontificating in stuffy chambers or arguing over fancy dinners.”

“The war won’t last forever, John. When it’s over, the colonies will need well-spoken, well-educated men to lead our new nation. As my son, you are in a good position to help shape the laws and create what this country can become.”

John turned quickly back to his father. “Doubtful. They don’t listen to me now. How many times have I begged them to create a militia of slaves and ensure their freedom once the fighting is over? We rail against the unjustness of the British, but they have given the enslaved that same opportunity. If for no other reason then we are losing thousands of smart, strong men to the other side should we do this, but no. People like Jefferson and even Washington himself refuse to see the hypocrisy of fighting for independence while keeping human beings in chains.” He gave his father a fiery stare.

Henry exhaled and turned away. “I did support your effort. I am sorry it didn’t pass the house.”

“And when, exactly, were you planning on freeing the slaves in your own home?” John said coldly.

“It’s not that simple, John. There are economic and societal-“

“With all due respect, father, stuff it.” John clenched his jaw. “I’ve heard all these arguments before.” He sat back and Henry tersely obliged, happy to see the State House finally coming into view.

John suffered through the numerous introductions and polite exchanges before he and his father finally took their seats in one of the many rows of benches that gave the Great Room the feeling of a church. Most of the discussions seemed to be more about accounting than the high-minded discourses on the birth of a republic that Henry had promised. As the older, fat statesmen argued over the budget of the Continental Army and how they simply couldn’t spare another dollar for those fighting on the front lines, John had had enough and stood up.

“We’re starving out there!” His impassioned voice filled the cavernous hall. “Do you have any idea how many men died during the winter at Valley Forge? How many soldiers perished not due to British muskets but hunger and frostbite? You ask these brave souls to fight for you and then you make them march over frozen fields without even socks on their feet! And that’s not even the worst part. These patriots are getting sick and dying. Forced to live in squalor and drink filthy water because we have no money for a decent shelter or proper sanitation. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Quibbling over a few coins for the army while you dine on fine china and drink from crystal goblets. As an aide of General Washington, I can attest that all in his house were forced to share the same plate at every meal. Militiamen are forced to steal from local farmers, even under penalty of death, just for a scrap of meat.” He felt his father’s hand on his arm. “But go ahead and debate the merits of fulfilling the latest request from the quartermaster. I hope your lavish feasts are worth the suffering of the men you claim to hold in such high regard.” He sat down and his nostrils flared, his anger apparent as Henry looked quickly at the faces around the room.

“Yes.” Henry loudly cleared his throat, obviously flustered and desperately trying to redirect. “We can certainly take into account what my spirited son has so passionately described for us. The well-being of those on the front lines should of course be considered when we deliberate how best to distribute our funds.”

John rolled his eyes. He glanced across the room and he noted most faces set in a frown as they regarded him with equal parts shock and disdain. Except for one. He looked at a face, younger than most of the other men there, who was actually smirking and seemed almost delighted. John gave him a little smile and the other man grinned in return. When his father was once again seated, ceding the floor to another delegate, John elbowed him softly and gestured across the room. “Who is that?”

“That is James Madison. A smart, young man from Virginia.”

John noted the name and let his gaze linger for a moment. Had he just found an ally?

As the day’s proceedings came to an end, John pushed through the throng of well-dressed men until he found who he was looking for. He stepped in front of the short, plump man and offered his hand. “Mister Madison? I am John Laurens. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The other man smiled. “The pleasure is mine. That was quite the diatribe you gave today. It’s nice to have someone who has actually seen the atrocities of battle speak for our poor men out there fighting.”

Laurens scoffed. “All the impassioned words will mean nothing if we are not helped soon. Winter will be here soon enough and our soldiers still lack coats and boots and blankets. There is not enough food to eat since the locals have all decided to sell to the British now that American currency is worthless. These are dire times, my friend. I am sure you know as well as I. What regiment do you serve in? The Virginian Militia?”

“Oh.” Madison’s voice was soft. “I am unfortunately too unwell to serve in the field. I am second-in-command to my father though. A colonel in the Orange County militia. Since being elected to the Continental Congress, I have spent most of my time here. Your argument is something I have been pleading myself. The financial issues that plague us are quite a thorny mess but I am trying to amend the Articles of Confederation to let us impose a tariff on imports that we can use to support the army’s efforts.”

“You are?” John’s face softened and he smiled wide.

James nodded and he felt his cheeks grow warm, “I am trying. There is much resistance.”

“I will talk to Washington and Hamilton. Between the General’s sway and Alex’s persuasive writing, we can work to make this a reality.” John was talking faster, his enthusiasm growing.

“I would appreciate that very much.” James smiled.

“John!” The younger Laurens heard his father’s voice calling to him. Madison saw the change in John’s expression and recognized what it meant immediately.

“Lieutenant Colonel.” James nodded to Henry. “I was hoping your son and I could enjoy a hearty dinner and a robust exchange of ideas tonight. I am friends with the owner of the Orchid Inn. He can give John and I a lavish meal and some much deserved wine.”

Henry narrowed his eyes, knowing his son too well. “Oh, that’s not necessary. You can dine with us tonight. I’m staying at a lovely little home off Main St.”

John grimaced and James looked unsure of what to do. “I.. uh… that’s very kind of you sir.”

“Very well.” Henry seemed proud of himself. “See you at seven. I’ll send a coach.”

After an awkward dinner, John finally tossed his napkin on the table when he finished his dessert. “Well then father, if I may be excused, James and I would like to take our leave and relax a bit at the tavern across the street.”

Henry peered up at his son with an almost imperceptible scowl on his face. “We have plenty of brandy and cordials here, but I suppose you are hoping for a moment with Mr. Madison that isn’t under the watchful eye of your father.” John didn’t respond but pleaded with his eyes. “Fine. I can assume you will have the utmost respect for Mr. Madison’s stature… and dignity.”

John knew exactly what his father was hinting at. “Am I not always the pinnacle of honor and manners?”

His father arched an eyebrow. “Remember you are a married man, Jackie.” The fact seemed to take James by surprise.

John forced a smile. “How could I forget? I’m haunted every day by it.” With that he grabbed the coats that were hanging by the door and handed Madison’s to him.

They wasted no time hurrying to the tavern and finding a small, corner table near the fire. After the bottle of burgundy had been uncorked and their glasses filled, Madison eagerly started in.

“I must say, Colonel Laurens, your stories of action on the battlefield are most exciting.”

John shrugged. “There is much chance for glory while fighting. Me and my friends seem to be always narrowly escaping death.”

“Is that so?” James leaned in closer. “You must be very lucky then. I see no scars and detected no injuries.”

“Lucky, perhaps. But not injury free. There are mementos from the war all over my flesh, a slight ache in my leg from when my horse was shot out from under me and a mighty scar on my shoulder from where a musket ball went straight through.”

James’s eyes were wide. “Are you serious? How did your arm not get blown clean off?”

John smirked. “Didn’t let it. I had more important things to do than whine about being hurt. We were trying to ambush the Brits. I was leading a company of men. I got shot, tore off my sash, wrapped it around the hole to stop the bleeding and kept marching.”

Madison sat there in rapt attention. “That can’t be true.”

John drained his glass and set it down hard. “You don’t believe me?” He grinned and kept his eyes focused on James. He shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. He loosened his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt. James felt his jaw grow slack and quickly looked around the bar to see if anyone was watching this spectacle. John didn’t stop staring at James and yanked his shirt open, sliding one of the sleeves down his arm and revealing a circular-shaped scar, bumpy red skin, and stripes of white where the wound tried to heal itself.

James sat back and exhaled. He knew such an injury would have been the end of him. “That’s… impressive.”

John finally looked away and redressed. “That’s nothing.” He said nonchalantly. “I have scars like that all over.”

James didn’t know what to say and he certainly didn’t want to picture where exactly those scars would be.

After a few more drinks, Madison grew bold. “Why did your father have to remind you about being married?”

John snorted. “Oh that’s just Henry. He probably thought I was going to seduce you.”

“What?” James felt his heart race and he mildly started to panic. “Seduce me? What? Why would he think that? I’m- I’m a.. umm..”

“It’s not you. He’s caught me with men before.”

James felt as if the entire earth had shifted underneath him. “He what?”

John sighed. “If you want to leave because of that, I understand.” He looked at James who showed no signs of going anywhere. “Yes. I occasionally engage in ‘unacceptable’ affections with men. My father found me once with Alex.”

“Alex?”

“Hamilton.”

“Hamil-“ James gasped and slapped his hand in front of his mouth.

John rolled his eyes and poured another large glass of wine. “Aye. But he is engaged now. Set to marry in a few weeks. So, it appears our romance, or whatever you want to call it, has come to an end.” He took a long sip. “Which is better for him, I suppose. All his ambitions.” He emphasized that last word, like it was something he and Alex had fought over many times. “Better for him to secure a spot in an illustrious household headed by one of the most powerful men in New York.” He gulped more wine. “I mean, this fucking orphan is now going to be the son-in-law of General Schuyler. All because he wrote a few well-crafted love letters to the man’s daughter. I mean, you should see the things he wrote to me.” He laughed, a bit too loud. “Imagine being tossed aside by some simpering girl. To know that the letters he wrote to you weren’t anything special at all. It’s just how he talks to anyone he wants something from. To know that something you thought was monumental was just pedestrian to the person you loved. At least with Lafayette he is already married. He is open with how much he loves Adrienne and I know I will never compare to her. We just like having fun. But Alex…” His voice trailed off. “I just thought…” He sat back and let his head fall to his chest.

James watched him and a small smile crept over his face. “I understand.”

Laurens scoffed. “You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be-“

“Jefferson.” James cut him off.

“I’m sorry?” John quickly looked up at him in confusion.

“Four years ago.  I first met him at the Virginia Constitutional Convention. I could barely speak. He’s very tall, you know, and quite handsome. He’s only eight years older than me but it felt like he had lived an entire lifetime more. Then last year, he became Governor of Virginia and I was on the Council of State. We worked closely almost every day and I thought…” he sighed. “We started working late into the night, just the two of us and we grew close. I didn’t dare initiate anything but eventually he did. I thought we could develop something, entirely in secret of course, but when I mentioned it, he laughed in my face. He asked if I really thought he give up all his other partners. He said he was sorry if I had gotten the wrong idea.” Madison swallowed hard. “But he didn’t seem sorry. He seemed… I don’t know. His smile was almost victorious. Like he had won something. I felt like an idiot of course. I haven’t even thought about a relationship with anyone since then.”

“Jefferson?” John looked deep in thought.

“Yes. I work with him every day still. It’s torture.”

“Jefferson…” Laurens still had a faraway look in his eyes. “You’re right. He is handsome.”

Madison’s shoulders slumped. “That. Was not the point of the story.”

Laurens laughed. “I’m teasing. But you know the best remedy for a broken heart.”

“More wine?” James smiled back.

“Not when there’s two of us.” John had a mischievous gleam in his eye and took Madison’s hand. He threw some coins on the table and led him to the door. “Come on. What do you say we get out of here? Find somewhere private and not think about Alex or Thomas or anyone else for an hour or so.”

“I’m not sure. It gets cold so quickly now. I really should be headed home.”

“Oh, don’t be a ninny.” He pulled the other man into the street. “Hmm... We could go down to the docks.”

“The salt water makes my asthma flare up.”

John looked up at the top floor of the tavern. “I suppose we could just sneak up into the attic. It’s just storage. No one ever goes up there.”

“With all that dust? Are you mad? I’ll be sneezing for hours.”

“What about the barn at my father’s house?”

“I’m allergic to hay.” John spun around in frustration and pushed Madison against the outside wall of the tavern. “What are you doing?” James whispered.

“Well, if we can’t go anywhere. Then I shall take you right here.”

“But what if someone sees?”

“I’ll say you were having trouble breathing. I was merely trying to keep your airways open.”

“With our clothes off?”

“Of course! Let that fresh air really get into your pores.” John grinned and James couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re as tenacious as you are charming.”

“Is that a yes?”

James took John’s hand and directed it to the growing bulge in his breeches. “What do you think?”

John sauntered back into the house and hung up his coat. He quietly crept up the stairs, trying to not make any noise.

“Must have been quite the conversation between you two.” Henry’s voice stopped him in his tracks. John turned and saw his father in the study. He sat in a chair by the window, smoking his pipe and facing the hallway.

“It was.” John said simply, without a trace of guilt in his voice.

“I assume you stuck with discussing policy and compromises between military and state?”

“Oh father, please. Of course not. That sounds dreadfully boring. We also talked about our families, what living in the trenches is like, and the different places we have visited in Europe.”

“I see.” Henry seemed to relax a little. “Well it seems like you two are building quite a friendship. I encourage you to get more acquainted with someone who comes from such a well-regarded family as Madison. That boy has a sharp mind and his father is quite wealthy. Well connected too. I think he is even mentoring under Jefferson.” John snorted at that. “What?” His father asked. “It’s true. I’ve seen them travel to and from Virginia together.”

“I’m not doubting you. James himself said he and Thomas are very close.”

Henry nodded and then started to pick up on John’s subtle comment. “Just understand there is much to be mined from a cordial relationship with Madison. He has already done so much at such a young age. He has the ambition and pedigree to really make it far. The two of you could be the future leaders of this nation. Taking after your fathers. I hope you plan on seeing him again.”

“Oh, I definitely do, father.” He sneered down at Henry triumphantly. “We have A LOT in common.” With that, he turned his back and went up to bed.

#Laurmads #John Laurens #james madison #Okieriete Onaodowan #Anthony Ramos #laurens #laurens x madison #hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fic

[ddaenghoney]

chapter seven

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none.

Word count: 5064

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi, 2:36pm: Can you meet me at my apartment? I have to upload some things, and my stylists are going to set up there.

Y/N, 2:37pm: Yeah, hopefully I’ll be there before four. I don’t know what Yerin wants.

Your head lifts from your rigid posture on the couch, glancing in the direction of the elevator as a random employee delivers mail to the secretary. She told you to sit and wait approximately twenty minutes ago. The man returns to the elevator, bidding a cheerful goodbye to the girl who waves back at him. Your eyebrows furrow back down at your lap, hoping her normal demeanor can be taken as a positive sign for you.

Yoongi, 2:40pm: Whatever she says can’t be too awful. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Though you’re inclined to agree, at this point in your hole of misdeeds you wonder if even the tiniest things could set her off nowadays. The dates you and Yoongi go on aren’t blatantly full of affection, but given your mutual lack of acting--and desire to be affectionate with one another, you think you’re both done pretty good. Twitter likes it all, from what you have looked at, and celebrity news outlets commonly refer to you both positively as well.

Y/N, 2:42pm: Maybe she’s going to ask me to break up with you at the dinner thing later

Yoongi, 2:43pm: Wouldn’t you like that lol

Yoongi, 2:43pm: Well me too though

If anything good has come from the fake dating, it’s getting on stable foundation with Yoongi. Especially where production is concerned, he’s your favorite person to work with, even if all the things he’s let you have been informal content. The collaborative efforts have been a great use of your spare time, so much so that you don’t mind if they don’t amount to anything he’ll ever actually use. He said the songs aren’t likely to be, because of what he wants done with him, and how their styles won’t work properly with the conjured persona his management team deeply loves to publicize.

An image that you’ve found to be quite different to whom Yoongi actually is. One he also dislikes.

Yoongi, 2:50pm: I’m ordering pizza because I hear the food they plan to serve is going to be weird

Y/N, 2:50pm: You’re a hero… If you get cheese stuffed crust… I’ll buy one million copies of your next album….

Yoongi, 2:51pm: Get your wallet ready then (was already getting stuffed crust though)

“Ms.,” You turn your gaze to the secretary, thoughts of the enjoyable comfort food drifting from your thoughts as she smiles politely, “Ms. Baek is ready for you.”

Walking into the office, you’re met with Yerin sitting back relaxed in her seat, seemingly tranquil. She gestures with her hand to the empty chair across her desk, then uses it to take hold of her coffee mug, taking a languid sip. Unassuming, somewhat welcoming. You remain proper in the straightness of your spine as you sit, simply saying a small greeting that felt repressed like you were in her presence.

“I won’t take long with this.” She flips her hair behind her shoulder, rolling the wheels of her seat closer to the desk. “Just a check-up.” You nod, not fully understanding what she means, considering she hasn’t done anything like this since your first year of working in the company. “From what I see in the press the relationship is going over nicely. It helps giving some official information first to the main news sites that’ll give beneficial commentary.” She goes on like there’s a check-list of points in her head to cross off, while you nod. The first headline to drop the company’s official statement dressed the relationship with pretty phrasing, and light-hearted banter in the paragraphs about pictures of you and Yoongi on the first visible date. “It may start getting a little trickier now, though.” She takes another moment to drink her beverage while you noticeably frown.

“The appeal won’t simply die down?” You ask, words weightless of strength and only curious. Yerin shakes her head, finger tapping on her notepad while she explains,

“No, there’s always going to be a desire for public pictures of an open relationship like this; especially considering Min Yoongi’s prestige in the public’s eye.” At that you nod once, accepting that tidbit of information to be correct, especially with how much acclaim his work has received in recent years. “With that being said, there needs to be more out of you both.”

You only stare at her, taking in the ideas behind her words, hoping you’re misunderstanding, but knowing that not to be the case.

“Yes, as in more physical interaction.” Straightforward. Yerin rests her chin on her hand as though what she’s saying is cumbersome to explain. She shrugs, catching you off-guard as she beats you to commentary, “I know it’s obnoxious and, perhaps, uncomfortable, but that’s how it is. I’m not telling you to make out with each other in the streets, but hand-holding won’t cut it forever.”

“I,” You bite your lip, not happy with the idea of talking back to her, considering you and Yoongi had already gone in this deep with the thing. But you should speak for yourself. “I don’t think I can do things like that with someone I don’t genuinely like in that way. It’s going to look awkward-- I can’t even see Yoongi agreeing to this idea, either.”

“I know he wouldn’t.” She nods, glancing from you to the window. “Like I say: I don’t need you both to make out, or even kiss. In fact, I don’t want you both to be spotted kissing, that runs the risk of being too unprofessional. Just act more friendly than you both do now. You can still have your boundaries of no real physical affection, but delve deeper for the sake of cameras and people outside of the company’s perception.”

Your head tilts in disappointment of her unwavering decision, though you can’t help but agree with her worry of media’s perception. Not that you truly wanted to deceive people, but from the objective perspective of a general person, Yoongi and you only ever held hands in public, sat across at tables with no further physical interaction-- you both haven’t even faked a selfie session. You bite the inside of your cheek, still trying the last card, “And if Yoongi doesn’t go along with this at all?”

“He will.” Yerin cooly responds to you, finally shifting her crisp stare back to your person. You’re stiff at her words’ finality, wondering how she can be so sure. “Besides that all,” Her calculative actions and stoic demeanor are truly the most intimidating things about Yerin. “You’ve been working on music with him.”

Like how she’s able to state information she has received without you possibly understanding where she would have received it from.

“Y-Yeah,” Because you’re surprised, the affirmation stutters, but you clear it up in the retort. “It’s not against policy.” She nods in agreement,

“No, it’s not. I’m not upset with the fact. Just acknowledging it. Of course I’d want the best of the company’s songwriters to be collaborative with one another.” You nibble on your lip, eyes widening slightly at the high-praise of your value. “I was going to try and get you to help him with his upcoming album anyways; it’s best that it happened naturally, considering how particular he is.” Your shoulders feel less burdened to straighten, fueled by the change in topics that ended up being so much more uplifting than you would like to admit out loud. “Keep up the good work. It always shows you do your best.”

---

A plate with crumbs and the faint remains of a few drops of tomato sauce sit cold on the night stand beside Yoongi’s bed. You sit in a desk chair wheeled in from his spare room under bright lights the stylists brought from the company as you receive their final touches of makeup. It feels like an hour has passed, making you murmur of worry at the idea you and Yoongi would arrive late to this dinner he was cordially invited to.

But on the other hand you’re fine with the delay. Still trying to figure out a way to express Yerin’s order of more PDA to Yoongi, after avoiding discussion of anything in regards to the meeting once you arrived at his apartment. Timely as it was, he had just finished his appearance preparations, and greeted you with steaming slices of cheesy pizza questioning immediately if everything went okay.

You hurried in a yes, fumbling over words but able to avoid untactfully blurting that she wants more from you both.

“Y/N,” The familiar stylist says your name with pride, overlooking you from behind as you take in your freshly styled makeup, hair, and the perfectly fitting dress that you chose out of five options. It holds the contours of your figure with grace, a bandeau-style neckline, with the sleeves purposefully sewn to fall off your shoulders loosely, and somehow in an ethereal way. The fabric’s shine under the fluorescence entirely highlights the rich shade of bronze, and as you take in the entirety of the ensemble-- beautifully black heels and all-- you can definitely agree with the tone that the stylist goes on in. “This dress kills. You have great taste.”

If the foundation didn’t layer your skin, you’d likely have a noticeable flush of confidence, but that aspect is evident in your widening smile. Hell, looking this nice may be convincing enough for Yoongi attend more to those demands Yerin asked you of.

You bite your lip at the thought, head shifting to disperse it entirely--silly idea, maybe even conceited, plus it’s Yoongi you’re talking about. It’s only Yoongi.

“Wow,” You catch sight of the man himself enter behind you, his reflection in the mirror showcasing a fixated, noticeably surprised, expression. Your chest beats with more warmth, fueled in confidence from his reaction that you didn’t genuinely think would occur. You turn, biting your inner cheek as he simply remains quiet, unabashedly taking in the outfit as you properly faced him. Then Yoongi startles in the quiet, releasing the door knob from his hand and entering into his bedroom, wandering towards the rack of clothing that was brought for him, facing it as he finishes. “You look nice, Y/N.”

“Nice isn’t enough, Yoongi.” You nearly cough as his stylist interrupts the moment, missing your lips tighten to refrain from smiling bashfully at his comment. “You should tell her at least a paragraph’s worth of words-- I mean, look at her!” She rambles, adjusting his suit coat while Yoongi allows her to, casting you a glance. This one contained entirely to find your eyes. He smiles softly and nods as though to tell you he genuinely means the small sentence he said.

You didn’t need him to. You knew.

--

“So,” Yoongi says, comfortably beside you as you both ride to the destination. “Sorry if this dinner thing ends up being really boring for you.” He speaks quietly, somewhat slowly like he’s looking for something to comment on. “I wanted to skip it, since I’m not a fan of the host, but couldn’t get out of it with Yerin.”

You know the statements reasoning invite you to question his disdain of the host, but you miss the chance to keep on track with the subject of Yerin. “Speaking of Yerin,” Watching him flinch a little as your voice raises, you just ignore it and get out the phrasing as innocently as you can, “She,” You reach to fiddle with your hair, smiling in a nervous manner that he could get upset by the idea. Yoongi’s lips curl a little in a frown, taking in your evident worry about whatever you are about to say, and he knew he had the right idea when you shuffled past him to get your makeup done, barely remembering to get pizza until he reminded you. Something definitely happened. “She wants us to be a bit more physical than just holding hands.” Your voice trails, as does your eye contact in favor of the seat’s polyester.

Yoongi’s frown remains, due now to the confusion on why that was so difficult for you to say to him. Judging by past interactions with her, he had a feeling that would eventually come. The idea that she directly asked you instead of having himself present as well for the request makes him uncomfortable. Wondering what her methodology was when this message clearly made you worried to pass along. He sighs, irritated again by the odd work relationship between you and Yerin. But Yoongi’s gentle as he answers you, subconsciously happy when he notices your shoulders lose tension and he settles your small bundling worries. “That’s okay. We’ll figure out some other stuff to pacify the media.”

Your eyes find Yoongi’s profile as he looks out at the passing evening scenery. You’re skeptical. He was just as against the fake relationship as you were in the beginning, so seeing him go along with this new addition as easily as this feels strange. And you wonder even more how Yerin was able to assure you this occurring outcome would come to be. “I’m sorry I couldn’t convince her against it.”

Yoongi faces you, eyebrows furrowing in dismay at your need to apologize, “This isn’t your fault; you don’t need to apologize.” He shrugs, admitting softly, “I had a feeling she’d want more eventually.”

“But not a lot, don’t worry.” You try to soothe your own discomfort as you remind yourself, “Just small things-- not kissing obviously.” Yoongi chuckles, rubbing his neck, humored by the way you pop in small comments.

“Obviously.” He mimics your tone, earning a small pat from you against his arm as you pout at the teasing. Embarrassed, but he didn’t push it. “I know what you mean, Y/N. It’ll be okay, we’re not doing anything either of us are uncomfortable with.”

“Do you want to have some sort of signal in case we cross boundaries like that?” You ponder ideas of how to be subtle, but pause as Yoongi murmurs absently, as though what he says is casual knowledge,

“I think we understand each other well enough to know without that.” Despite the statement sounding unassuming, you can’t deny little jitters of warmth at its implication, but you shrug them away, thinking in the end that it’s silly to read so much into simple things like that.

The car comes to a stop, the area outside sparse of crowds due to the lowkey nature of the dinner party that is apparently only supposed to be learned about after the event concludes. Nonetheless, you exit from the vehicle, holding Yoongi’s hand as he helps you out. The usual. Leading you both into the tower, you think maybe posting a picture with him on your social media account could be enough to suffice for the evening, leaving you both with an opportunity to think of other things for future dates, but as Yoongi’s hand strays to find a gentle purchase around your waist, tugging you closer to him in the slightly busy elevator shaft, you realize he’s able to adapt easily to the new parameters of the fake relationship. Like he didn’t have to think at all.

“Too much?” The words feel like they brush into your hair, but so quietly in order to keep the other few people in the elevator as away from the question as possible. Your head shakes only a little, and it’s not enough to convince him as the grip begins to loosen, then stray away, but you can’t be the only one lagging in this. He didn’t like it either, but you shouldn’t force Yoongi into making all of the effort. You hand shadows over his before it leaves your waist, keeping it situated, warmth leaving the tips of your fingers and onto his skin chilled from the short walk inside. “Okay.” You register his nodding beside, as well as the fluster very slightly in his voice.

Your responsive giggling falls before you’re able to stop it, humored by his shy reaction and how you thought Yoongi was effortless in acting like your boyfriend. Clearly as nervous about the small things as you are. You shift closer towards him when his hand suddenly squeezes in a tickling manner, and you glance up at him only to try harder to muffle laughter as he looks down at you completely embarrassed with his lips straight in a tight line that makes his cheeks fuller.

“Stop-”

“I’m sorry.” You nod away the entertained thoughts, then smile at him dramatically, overly apologetic, trying to play it all away with humor. Yoongi just shakes his head, sighing softly when the door opens.

“I’m not good at this I know.” He says vaguely enough for those who could happen to listen in, but of course you understand. As such you shake your head, walking as he leads you both to the reception area cluttered with celebrities and those sporting designer clothing to fit into it all.

“Listen, we both clearly suck at this.” You respond, catching sight of the refreshments going around on dishes. Yoongi was right: they looked weird. “But we’ll probably get better, I guess.” You shrug, wondering why the event is called a dinner party when no formal dining tables were anywhere to be seen. Instead, you catch sight of people throughout the music industry and beyond, casually involved with one another in dignified manners. Practiced at the art of social interaction, and from what you could see most weren’t meeting for the first time that evening. Feeling like you’re the odd one out. “Don’t ditch me in this, please.”

“No plans of that. Don’t worry.” You step in further with him, altering position so that his hand leaves your waist in favor of your hand, for the ease of walking. You keep close, realizing more and more by your unfamiliarity with everyone that you’re not a part of the world that plays out in the party. Idol and producer Min Yoongi’s date, but not songwriter and producer yourself.

“Just when I thought I was going to get iced out of here.” Walking ceases at a clear voice that causes Yoongi to pause, looking beyond you while you do the same. You immediately bite your lip, trying to refrain from the shock of Jung Hoseok walking towards the two of you, suit sleek, with the patterned shirt beneath it glimmering, a flute of a drink half-finished in his hand, and a bright smirk present. You’re silent, glancing back to Yoongi who responds instantaneously,

“How are you here?” Yoongi speaks quietly, eyes narrowing with baffled shock. You try to think back on any mentions of him knowing Hoseok before, but draw blanks. Then again, why wouldn’t we, they worked at the same company previously. You narrow your eyes at this thought, in your own world for the moment while you get vague recollection of headlines surrounding Hoseok about a year earlier than you hadn’t paid much attention to. The implications of so leading to his removal from the company, and left uncontracted to SoundWave following the merger.

“Believe it or not, people still like me that aren’t the press.” He says with a shrug, sipping at his flute while Yoongi continues to look perplexed by Hoseok standing there. You can’t think of why in particular. Hoseok looks to you before Yoongi can fumble out any other response, smiling politely with an extending hand, “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself. You must be Y/N. I’m Hoseok.”

“You know who I am?” You ask in surprise, then recall his hand and shake it in greeting.

“Yoongi told me about you-”

“Hoseok, this is Seulgi’s party.” Yoongi’s continued concern shows, attempting to get Hoseok back on task to the conversation of being there. At mention of the host’s name, you remember it in relation to Hoseok’s in the headlines last year. Jimin had mentioned something about one of their careers getting damaged because of their relationship being caught in limelight. You hadn’t concerned yourself with that, instead fixating on the way the same could happen in your own situation, so as Yoongi sets the last piece of the puzzle in your mind, you revert into quiet.

Calmly looking up at Hoseok who turns his gaze back to Yoongi, you wonder like Yoongi what he’s doing there. A tiny part of you wanting to ask what happened if only to grasp at some fake comfort in knowing that it wouldn’t happen to you at this point. The only good thing perhaps that you could find so far.

“Obviously I know that.” He nods, taking a moment before speaking. “She let me in, it’s not like I snuck through security.” Yoongi’s hand around yours stiffens, worrying you a little that the small statement made him upset, but his expression looks torn instead. “Came with a friend that wanted to come.”

“Yoongi-” The three of you startle as a new person enters the hushed conversation. She steps passed Hoseok, ignoring his presence entirely, and instead smiling wide at Yoongi as she goes on, dress glittering under fluorescence. “You came after all. I’m glad.”

Where Hoseok’s sudden entrance felt easy to adjust to, the appearance of Seulgi is opposite. You feel uncertain of how to take in her sunshine tone towards Yoongi, while Hoseok takes another long drink to finish off his flute, eyes drifting from her to somewhere away. You swallow nervously, feeling implications hiding quietly around the bubble that felt hostile despite the cheerful demeanor the model and idol group member in front of you portrays. “Company said I had to.”

“Don’t be like that,” She teases reaching for a gentle nudge against Yoongi’s arm that intends to remain until he shrugs it off. The hand holding yours tightens once more, and you step closer to him before realizing so, concerned only with creating some type of barrier between them, because Yoongi seemed uncomfortable. “Ah,” Seulgi’s styled waves of rich brown fall over her shoulder as she looks towards you, polite smile, discerning eyes. “The rumors were true after all, hm?” She disregards greetings, head tilting back to Yoongi, “I want to catch up. I’ll show you to the open bar?”

“I’m not planning to drink much, or stay too long actually. Y/N and I have things to do in a while.” After listening to the decline, Seulgi’s eyes take a quick glance again, searching for confirmation that comes in the form of your head nodding, putting on a false, polite smile of your own. Your gaze perhaps more irritated than she would have liked to receive, so she smiles coyly. Nodding once, though chuckling sarcastically,

“What kind of plans happen at almost midnight on a Friday night, Yoon?” In the corner of your eye, Hoseok’s frame notably tenses, releasing a baffled scoff that Seulgi pays no mind to, and Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat in his reply,

“Things that don’t concern you.”

“Harsh.” She giggles like the conversation is an amusing game. “Y/N, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You’re undeterred by her obviously knowing who you are, trying to roll with the punches as well as Yoongi does.

“You have your work cut out with this one.” She never looks at you as she speaks, never acknowledges Hoseok beside her, just intent on staring daggers into Yoongi’s eyes while the rest of her presents itself as quaint and easy-going.

“I didn’t ask.”

Seulgi’s head turns towards you, dark red lips parted for only a moment at your dry remark, before they close again. She properly takes you in, eyes narrowing in what appears to be a lapse of confusion, while Hoseok beside her chuckles in the midst of it all. She exhales a sigh at his antics, then a small smirk blossoms, matching the condescension in her speech, “Guess it’d be boring if he picked someone that can’t talk back.”

“Seulgi,” Yoongi steps between you two, eyes narrowed towards her but his voice is controlled, appearance utterly poised for any outsider to notice. She takes only a half step back, unafraid, but giving distance to cross her arms dismissively. “Leave her out of this. Don’t get any ideas.”

Seulgi looks at him silently, unbothered by the definite demand Yoongi speaks towards her. You get the feeling that she doesn’t buy it, likely hoping to push him even further. Letting you easily understand why Yoongi had so much reluctance in attending this particular event.

You tug the connection of your hands, causing Yoongi’s head to glance back at you, eyes speckled with the lighting and appearing concerned that something is wrong. Your lips tighten towards him, the smallest of head shakes telling him this isn’t worth it. You feel relaxation in his grip on your hand, returning to the feelings you’re used to, and Yoongi turns to Seulgi who speaks before he can get the two of you away, “Humor me with a chat.”

“Why should I?” His eyes narrow at her offer that she’s confident in. Seulgi takes a look to Hoseok who’s maintained near complete silence despite what his character is known for in the public. Eyes to Yoongi, releasing depth that you didn’t understand,

“Considering last year, you owe me.” Despite the majority of him faced away, you knew her statement struck a chord with Yoongi. Jaw stiffening and eyes narrowing in emotions other than anger. Like he lost to her. Lost to something that happened. You can’t help but frown, worry cascading around your stomach that tells you this isn’t a good change at all. As you turn to see Hoseok’s opinion on this discussion you find him only looking at Seulgi from the corner of his eyes, concerned, confused, curious.

If she was his ex then what does she want with Yoongi.

Yoongi sighs after what feels like an eternity, holding your hand still as he steps away from Seulgi and Hoseok only a few paces. His body faces from them, blocking you from their view as your holding hands dangle between you both. “I’m sorry, I need to talk to her though.”

You want to ask why but your lack of involvement and importance to Yoongi lead you to avoid that, but you’re visibly worried. Tone matching as you still try softly with concern, “Is everything okay, Yoongi?”

He nibbles his lip, though nods. Words gentle, apologetic. “I’ll tell you about it some other time, but I won’t take long.” He pauses, eyes appearing to frown in memory of his earlier promise to stay with you through the entire party. “I’m sorry, I really won’t be long. We can leave after; I don’t want to stay.”

You nod slowly, still wondering if you should let him, but having no reason to stop the situation that is the biggest cause of his discomfort. “Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re bad at lying.” He says softly, smiling a little sheepishly, while giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You shake your head, but Yoongi halts you from your need to cover up. “I think you’re worried. It’ll be okay though, it won’t be a long talk. Wait for me at the bar?”

You nod, thinking he appears hesitant to leave you, even after releasing your hand. But Yoongi eventually turns, finding Seulgi patiently behind him despite her still crossed arms. Hoseok’s disappeared, escaped to another part of the venue, and you’re unsure if he spoke to her at all during your small discussion with Yoongi. Then Yoongi and Seulgi disappear as well, mixing into the crowds and going off somewhere.

You sigh, wondering about the dense amount of history and problems between the three of them, and thinking if Yoongi would be okay when he seemed so bothered by Seulgi’s implications. Stepping in the direction of the bar, you try to ignore it, leaving it to Yoongi to handle, because it is clear he wants to. Despite his obvious animosity there is something for him to work through. He said he’d tell you about it.

Your lip drags between your teeth in an attempt to smother the warmth you feel that he trusts you in that way. After Yoongi’s tried to give you an outlet for your problems, and trying to overlook his early judgements of your person to give you the benefit of the doubt, you feel happy that there could be a way for you to help him through any of his troubles as well.

Through the partygoers you walk along, finding the bar as lively as it would be. However, you’re not entirely interested in passing time with anything, instead using the location just as the place to meet with Yoongi after his discussion concludes. You take another look at the attendees, curious if any other big names that you admire have come out, but for the most part see artists of other agencies, socialites, and people you’ve never seen before in the slightest. The atmosphere seems inviting, though you can’t help but feel away from it. Aside from your lack of public image, the people around act separate, like there are things to hide and appearances to keep up, like how Yoongi did his best to maintain visible composure in the jabs between him and Seulgi who herself acted just as well-adjusted as him. Even in this semi-private sphere, people are on guard, unwillingly to give out pieces of themselves that are unsightly, or even human.

Your eyes hit head after head, bewildered by how different this party is despite what you would expect from people who seemingly have it all; even the recognition you crave. Then the gaze halts, locked on sight with the most familiar face you should’ve expected to see tonight. In the midst of Yerin’s slight praise, and the advancing air of friendship between you and Yoongi, the idea of something to upset the positivity left your thoughts long ago.

But as Jimin stands paces from you, eyes greeting yours silently, you wish you considered this outcome. And wished you tugged Yoongi and you out of this party altogether to have a night unbothered.

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire​ @tsvkino-usagi​ @xionysus​

#bts #jimin #yoongi #jimin imagines #yoongi imagines #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #jimin fluff #bts smut #jimin smut #yoongi smut #bts au #yoongi au #jimin au #bts fic #jimin fic #yoongi fic #all #series veil

[artificialqueens]

Like They Do in Vegas, 5/5 (Vanique) - Mac

AN: It’s finally here!!! Last chapter!!! Thank you a million times over to Meggie for betaing this and being my personal angel.

Thank you to all of you who have been reading and leaving such nice comments! I never expected to make this into a full chaptered fic, but I’m so happy I did and I’m really proud of this tbh. I hope you enjoy the last chapter!!! Thanks again!!

BGM Challenge Notes: Here is the playlist I made for this fic.

Summary: Monique tries to make it up to Vanessa in an unconventional way.

Vanessa didn’t know why she agreed.

That was a lie, she did know why she agreed, but she figured if she didn’t say it out loud it wouldn’t be true.

Monique had taken her hand, smiled when Vanessa’s silver ring bumped her own gold one, and led them out the door of the casino, into the back of a sleek black car. The driver greeted them cordially and it took Vanessa a moment to register that this must be Monique’s personal car because she never gave an address; she hardly spoke two words to the driver before they were jetting across the brightly lit streets.

The leather was cold and unforgiving against Vanessa’s bare legs, but Monique’s hand rested gingerly on Vanessa’s upper thigh, still cautious, and shaking just the slightest bit.

Vanessa hated that the contact warmed her up.

They drove for a while, the city lights fading in the background as desert rock formations appeared.  If Vanessa had more sense in her she would have worried about getting kidnapped, but something in her gut eased those fears.

Something she wasn’t ready to name just yet.

Monique’s hand remained a steady reminder that this was real, that she was here. When it disappeared suddenly, Vanessa looked up to see that they had stopped outside a dimly lit building in the middle of nowhere.

Vanessa’s door was opened for her and she thanked the driver with a wary smile. Before she could exhale, Monique appeared once again, offering her arm to the younger girl.

They walked slowly toward the building, giving Vanessa ample time to admire Monique in the low light.

The respective silver and gold color palettes of their outfits clashed, but in a way that wasn’t wholly unbearable. Vanessa had on another silver-white dress that hugged her curves, while Monique had opted for a gold top, matching gold belt and accessories. The black of her pants accentuated her color choice.

A sudden gust of wind and a loud chopping sound cut into the still desert air. It was then that Vanessa noticed the shape of a helicopter just past the dim lights of the building.

Monique noticed her shock and smiled gently. “You aren’t scared of heights are you?”

Vanessa shook her head, eyes wide as Monique continued to lead her toward the helicopter.

An older gentleman greeted the two of them, or at least Vanessa thought he had, the loud beating of the blades of the helicopter was too loud for her to properly make out the words he said. But he opened the door for them to climb up into the aircraft before closing it behind them solidly.

Monique smiled at Vanessa and helped the still shocked younger girl into her many seatbelts. She tried to ask what the hell they were doing, but the noise made it impossible. Monique shook her head, motioning to the headphones next to Vanessa’s seat and placing her own pair over her ears.

Vanessa followed the silent instructions and suddenly the oppressively loud noise made by the blades was blissfully quiet.

“That’s better.” Vanessa heard Monique’s voice in her ears, staticky over the mic. She nodded, still unsure of what exactly was happening.

“Are you ready, Ms. Heart?” the pilot asked.

Monique continued to watch Vanessa as she answered, eyes never once leaving the younger woman’s face. “Yes, thank you, Don.”

Vanessa gripped the seat as the aircraft began to lift off the ground. Monique noticed her white-knuckled grip and carefully unclenched Vanessa’s fingers and to interlock them with her own.

The reassuring gesture just made Vanessa’s already racing heart beat that much faster.

As they ascended higher and higher up, Vanessa could no longer make out the building they had come from, the expanse of the Nevada desert overtaking her vision.

It looked achingly peaceful at night, the usual heat-red rock dark and smooth. The dunes almost seemed to be rolling the longer she looked at them, the dust and rock and earth shifting and tumbling over itself.

As they reached cruising altitude, the helicopter jolted forward and began their journey back toward the glimmering Las Vegas. The city started off as only a small point of light and soon magnified to a world of color.

Vanessa felt the lights of Sin City draw her in as they always did, only the feeling was amplified impossibly by the sheer scope of the city. As they soared above the twinkling expanse of life, Vanessa pressed her face to the glass in an effort to look closer, makeup be damned.

She pointed excitedly at places she recognized, hotels, casinos, shows, street names, places she hadn’t even registered going. Monique paid attention to each tangent Vanessa went on, asking questions, covering her mouth to hide smiles, shaking her head in disbelief.

And Vanessa loathed that it felt natural to be so vulnerable.

As soon as Vanessa stopped talking though, the aircraft went silent with the sort of tension that made the palms of her hands sweat. She was suddenly reminded of their situation.

Monique coughed awkwardly. “I figured since you liked the view from the hotel, you’d like this even more.”

Vanessa looked over to her, their eyes locking for the first time since the casino. Monique looked as nervous as Vanessa felt, worrying the skin of her hands.

“It’s beautiful,” she said seriously.

And it was. Breathtakingly so.

But the whole of Las Vegas was nothing compared to Monique.

“So are you.”

Vanessa couldn’t hold eye contact at that, opting instead to stare at her fidgeting hands on her lap. The sudden weight of it all falling onto her exposed shoulders, making her shiver at the feeling.

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Monique practically whispered.

Vanessa fought the urge to dismiss her worries. To say ‘the hell with it’ and kiss Monique within an inch of her life because no one had ever cared this much before. It felt too personal. Vanessa felt too exposed.

And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t last. That this overwhelming sense of being cherished was temporary.

She was reminded that the pilot could hear their conversation, so rather than say all the things she wanted to in that moment, she settled for simplicity, and hoped her eyes would communicate the rest.

“I know.”

They soared silently above the city for a while longer, Vanessa lost in thought.

When they touched back down to the ground hours later, Vanessa felt exhaustion hit her like a ton of bricks. She hadn’t registered in the moment how on edge she was and how the anxiety had essentially zapped all her energy.

She rested her head against Monique’s shoulder as they got back into the car and sped off toward the city. With Monique’s arms wrapped securely around her, fingers carding through her hair gently, Vanessa had never felt safer.

When they came to another stop a bit later, Vanessa blinked her eyes open blearily. Monique took her hand this time and helped her out of the car and onto the bustling street. They stood there for a moment, Monique still holding Vanessa’s hands in her own.  

It was only when Vanessa lifted her head to see where they were that her stomach dropped.

“What the fuck,” Vanessa blurted.

Monique bit her lip nervously. “I figured you probably done all the fun touristy stuff before except this.”

Shock was an understatement. “This is a weddin’ chapel.”

Open 24-hours! The sign boasted. Legal Marriages!

“Yeah.” Monique nodded. “You wanna get married?”

She offered so nonchalantly, so casually, that if Vanessa didn’t know any better she could have mistaken her words for a conversation about the weather.

“This is crazy.”

Monique shrugged. “Well, I’m crazy ‘bout you, so it’s fitting.”

Vanessa was speechless, brain still trying to comprehend what was going on, if this was happening. “You-you don’t even know me.”

“I do though,” Monique insisted.

“Not well enough to marry me!” Vanessa exclaimed.

“I think I do,” she responded simply, as if this was totally normal.

“I’ve barely known you two days!”

“And that was enough time for me to know that I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Are you…?” Vanessa shook her head. “You not serious.”

Monique just smiled. “I love you.”

Vanessa’s whole body tensed. “You can’t mean that,” she whispered, worried that if she spoke too loud Monique might say it again.

Vanessa’s brain kept replaying that one little word over and over again in her mind.

Love. Love. Love.

Was that what it was? Was that the reason she went out with Monique that first night? Helped her win at Blackjack? Let her pay for dinner? Went back to her room? Was that the reason she had been willing to hear Monique out? Had given her another chance?

Was love the reason it felt so risky to be here? So exposed? Was love the reason that even now, when confronted with this insane idea, that a part of her wanted to say yes?

“Tell me I’m lying,” Monique spoke softly, taking Vanessa’s hands and placing them on either side of her face, forcing their eyes to meet. “You read people so well. Tell me I’m lying,” she breathed.

Vanessa sighed and looked, really looked at Monique.

The older woman’s eyes were deep in their softness, vulnerable and open, holding nothing back. Vanessa felt a full-body shiver take over as realization dawned on her.

There was no trace of anything malicious in Monique’s eyes. No trace of anything other than raw adoration.

She looked at Vanessa like she was the lights on the Vegas strip.

Like she had never seen anything more beautiful.

Vanessa nearly took a step back at the intensity of emotion staring her down. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, Monique’s eyes never ceasing in their openness, the joy and fear and love pouring out threatening to drown her.

And yet it didn’t.

Every crash of emotion against Vanessa’s chest that edged on too much eased a moment later, the same emotion that held her captive freed her in the same breath.

“Monique—” Vanessa started, unsure herself of what she wanted to say.

“I know.” Monique nodded, taking Vanessa’s hands in her own, the two of them fitting together as if they were always meant to. “I know this is crazy and I know you have your doubts and you’re fearful of the world because people have hurt you in the past. I know even though you’ve never said it, that you’re waiting for me to do the same.” Monique gave her a small smile and stepped that much closer. “I’m not perfect, not by half. But I am in love with you. So let me. Let me love you imperfectly.”  

The sheer amount of feeling Monique conjured in Vanessa, the confusion and elation and fear and comfort and love… It was overwhelming.

It made her want to let her guard down.

“Why do I wanna say yes?” Vanessa shook her head in spite of the smile on her face. “God, you make me crazy.”

Monique chuckled, and Vanessa’s heart leapt, pressing itself against her chest in an effort to get closer to Monique.

“So I guess the feeling is mutual.”

It was Vanessa’s turn to laugh, the sound echoing in her own ears the longer she let it. Monique just grinned at her, only leaning in to capture her lips when Vanessa paused to take a breath in.

The air around them felt so light, Vanessa swore she could float out of her skin. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here, lips pressed against Monique, body sparking at her touch, smile set in the corners of her eyes.

“So what do you say?” Monqiue held her close, hands planted firmly on Vanessa’s waist. “Will you marry me?”

“Aren’t you already married?” Vanessa quirked an eyebrow up.

“Divorce papers were sent to him the moment you got in the car.” Monique smiled. “They should arrive tomorrow.”

Vanessa shook her head with a chuckle and leaned back in Monique’s arms to take her in.

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

#rpdr fanfiction #vanessa vanjie mateo #monique heart #vanique #casino girl au #lesbian au #fluff #angst #developing relationship #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #like they do in vegas #mac #diversity fic #s10

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

All Is Fair  Ch. 7:  Loaded

Lia comes to terms with Tommy’s gangster identity.

Tommy’s car was parked on a side street, just around the block from the library. The chill of the hard, cold leather seats numbed the backs of Lia’s thighs as Tommy pressed his lips to hers.  She leaned into his kiss, and even though she shivered from the cold a simmering heat moved through her. His tongue was in her mouth and his hands were in her hair and she didn’t give a fuck who saw them. She slid her hands inside his jacket, but they stilled for a moment when they met the leather and steel of his gun holster. She shifted her attention to the buttons of his waistcoat, and she groaned slightly when she pulled at the tail of his shirt. She needed to feel his warm skin under her hands, wanted to get as close to him as she possibly could in the front seat of a Bugatti. He moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “Not here. We can go to the Midland.”

Lia’s heart raced at his suggestion. If she agreed to accompany him to the Midland, he would surely expect that she would be willing to sleep with him. She paused for a moment, contemplating the choice that lay before her. If she followed her heart, she would have the night of her life. What worried her was what Tommy would think of her after the fact. Tommy seemed to be a rather progressive man, but a small part of her feared that things would change between them. She had always approached her relationship with Tommy as an opportunity to have fun, be adventurous and ignore the possible consequences, but now that things had taken a serious turn she was having second thoughts

 He felt the hesitation in her body before he saw it in her face. “Lia,” he gently lifted her chin with a finger and kissed her lips. “We don’t have to rush anything, eh? I just thought some privacy would be nice.”

 Tommy’s eyes were mesmerizing as they gazed into her own. The perpetual gray of the city made them an even more striking shade of blue, and the cold dim light played upon his cheekbones, hollowing them and honing them to a sharp edge. There was nothing left to consider. She wanted him badly, and he was offering her an afternoon in the most beautiful hotel suite in Birmingham.

  “That’s a lovely idea. Let’s go.”

 There it was. Lia decided to go along with Tommy’s suggestion that they continue their afternoon at the Midland; she knew what was on the cards, and she was ready for it.

 Tommy was more than ready. He was unaccustomed to waiting for anything, and it was a testament to how much he liked Lia that he hadn’t lost interest and found a more accommodating companion. As he sped toward their destination, one black leather gloved hand was on the wheel and the other was on her. Between shifting gears he caressed her arm and her thigh. He squeezed her hand and cut his eyes toward her; he clearly couldn’t wait to get her alone. When they pulled up to the entrance of the hotel, he pulled the brake and casually handed the keys off to the valet.

  He wordlessly took Lia’s hand and led her through the opulent lobby. The clicking of her heels echoed across the marble tile as she tried to inconspicuously take in her surroundings. It was hard not to gawk at the rich wood paneling and lush oriental rugs that adorned the alcoves where finely dressed ladies and gentlemen sipped at drinks. She ventured a glance upward and at the massive crystal chandelier and a flicker of amazement sparkled in her eyes. Tommy gave her a cheeky half-smile as he led her into the waiting elevator.

 The attendant recognized Tommy immediately, tipped his hat, and sent the lift up to the penthouse. Tommy stood a respectable distance from Lia while they took the silent ride to the top floor, but all the while he devoured her with his eyes. Each time she glanced toward him she could feel heat rise to her face and she involuntarily squeezed her thighs together. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and he reveled in it.

 “Will that be all, Mr. Shelby?” the lift operator cordially asked.

 “Yes. I shall call if we require anything,” Tommy replied, his voice measured and calm.

 Lia walked in a slow circle, taking in her surroundings while Tommy took care of the door. She heard it click shut behind her as if the sound was traveling through a dense haze. Tommy’s cologne, the rosy light that emanated from the lamps, the silk of her underthings— they were all soft and lovely. The whole scene was perfect. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled savoring the warm druggy feeling that was washing over her.

 “Would you like something to drink?”

 Her head turned toward the sound of Tommy’s voice, and she crossed the room to where he stood. He handed her a whiskey and gestured toward a sofa.

 Once they were seated, he drained his glass and leaned toward her. His gaze was heavy with lust, his voice quiet. “Do you know why I brought you here?”

 It was the same question he had asked on the boat. Only then she was hesitant. They had just met and he was an enigma to her. Now, although she knew precious little more about this man, she felt inexplicably more at ease in his presence. Her answer was the same, but her intent was different.

 “Yes,” she whispered. Her eyes were enormous, her pupils ready to swallow him whole.

 “Finish your whiskey, Lia.” He casually ran a hand up her thigh.

 She did as she was told, and he put her glass to the side. “Now, since you know why I brought you here…”

 He kissed her in slow motion, gently at first, then more deeply and urgently. She grasped at his lapels and peeled his coat down while he pulled his arms free. His skin was burning to be touched underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. She slid her hands up his arms, down his back, and around to his sides until her right hand made contact with his holster. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, then drew back. She was both wary of the weapon and fascinated by it. She knew Tommy was a dangerous man, but she hadn’t really thought about the fact that he constantly carried a gun. According to the gossip she’d heard about his past, he would just as soon beat a man to death with his fists than use a pistol. If she was honest with herself, part of what attracted her to Tommy was the knowledge that he was, in his heart, a gangster.

 Something flashed in her eyes that was not lost on Tommy. She had the same reaction a few days ago in his office when he removed it in front of her. Her cousin Jenny might have protested about his chequered past, but as far as he could tell, Lia liked a bit of danger. That was good, he supposed. If he was going to keep her around for any time at all she would need to have the stomach for both sides of his business.

 Tommy took her hand and guided it to the strap on his shoulder. Her delicate fingers skimmed over the rich dark leather and came to rest at the fastenings. Tommy ran his tongue along his bottom lip and eyed her reaction. She was riveted. Her mouth was slightly parted and her breath came faster than before.

 “Take it off,” he quietly directed her.

 She looked into his eyes for affirmation and he nodded. Carefully, she unbuckled the holster and pulled the straps from around his torso. For a moment she held it, testing the weight of it in her hands. She then gingerly laid it on the sofa table and turned her attention to Tommy.

 He smirked and pulled her close, “You like that, eh?”

 “I don’t know... It terrifies me.” She glanced back at the gun, then to Tommy. “You though, it’s just a part of you, isn’t it?”

 “I suppose it is. I don’t go anywhere without it.” He took her face in his hands and in a low raspy voice, he tried to reassure her. “This is who I am, and there are times, even now that I am in Parliament, when I have to show people that I am still Tommy Shelby from Small Heath.”

 “Do people still come after you?”

 “Not for a long while, they haven’t.”

 He continued stroking her cheeks and she relaxed into his touch. Her eyes slid closed and once again his mouth was on hers. Whiskey lingered on his tongue. Since their very first kiss, the smell of whiskey made her dizzy with want. It was Tommy himself. Now she drank him in for all that she was worth. There was no sense in putting up false pretenses; she was going to give herself to him today. While the rest of the world buzzed from one place to the next in the fading light of the late afternoon, she was going to spread her legs for this gangster, this thief, this Watery Lane Gypsy turned MP.

 Her hands wandered under his shirt and across the broad expanse of his back while she sucked at his bottom lip. “Tommy,”

 He lifted her onto his lap and lay back against the cushions. “Hmmmmm?” he mumbled, pushing her skirt up higher on her thighs and fingering the satin straps on her garters.

 “Go ahead and do what you brought me here for.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fiction #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #all is fair

[donotdisturbmysleepingdragon]

KiddxLaw Modern!AU

Traffy x Kidd Modern!AU 

~///~

It was a fairly normal day in the city. Traffic sucked, people were yelling at each other for no reason, and crime was still high despite the high police presence from the corrupt government that abused their authority.

Trafalgar D. Water Law was enjoying a calm day off from the hectic ER where he worked in the city’s main hospital. Despite his age, he was a very well respected and coveted doctor. He had seen his fair share of injuries, from stab wounds to odd objects lodged into places this didn’t belong. So he was glad that his one day off allowed him some time to decompress from all the chaos of the ER.

His day had been going quite well. He had gotten a decent amount of sleep (for him anyway), a full meal, and was able to dress comfortably. He was currently sitting at a table outside his favorite local coffee shop with his best friend and dog, Bepo. The White Tibetan Mastiff was laying at Law’s feet, a bowl of water next to him. The weather was cool, so the thick-furred dog was quite content.

Law was enjoying a medical textbook and a relaxing cup of tea. It was late evening, and the city was alive with post-work rush. He was just planning on leaving when a body dropped into the seat across from him. Bepo’s head popped up and swiveled to the interloper. Law’s eyes slowly dragged from the text to the person before him.

A full face mask surrounded by long spiky blond hair was what greeted his gaze.

“Killer-ya.” he greeted dully. 

The blond nodded back cordially.“Hello Law. Enjoying your day off?” he enquired. Law sighed and softly shut his book. 

“I was. What do you want?” Killer chuckled and sat back. His relaxed demeanor was betrayed only by his tense shoulders. 

“I require your assistance.” Law’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.  Killer was a known associate of Eustass Kidd, an up and coming gang leader who had a reputation for being hot-headed and ruthless. Law, Kidd, and Killer all went to Grand Line High together, so he was familiar with Killer’s boss and best friend.

 Law raised an eyebrow at the masked male before him. Bepo had long since lost interest, and had gone back to napping by his owner’s feet. Killer sighed.

“I need your medical expertise. My boss is in need of … assistance, and has requested you specifically. I was hoping we could do this amicably, but I’ve been ordered to bring you by whatever means necessary.” Law contemplated for a moment before sighing again and packing away his book. Bepo perked up as Law stood, and shuffled out from under the table.

 Killer stood as well and motioned for Law to follow him. The two males and one dog walked in silence down the street. Killer turned into an alley, stopping just past the threshold.

“I’ve brought him, Boss.” Law looked over the blond’s shoulder. Leaning against the dirty wall was a beaten and bloody Eustass Kidd.

The fiery haired gang leader looked up, giving Law a chance to assess the damage. His face hadn’t taken much damage, just some minor scrapes and a bruised jaw. Probably punched in the face for being an asshole. His eyes traveled lower, and finally saw why he was asked over. Taking in the -always- exposed chest, there was blood coming from in between his fingers as he tried to staunch the flow.

“What happened, Eustass-ya?” The brash idiot smirked up at Law and Killer.

“Heyya Law, I just need a quick patch job But let’s just say that hospitals and I don’t get along to well, ya feel?” The rough voice was exactly how Law remembered from school.“You didn’t answer my question, Eustass-ya” He dead-panned. Killer sighed and turned to the towering doctor behind him.

“He challenged one of Red-Hair’s crew members and got shanked.” Law sighed in resignation.

“I don’t have my medical bag with me, so I’ll have to go grab it.” He turned to leave, but was stopped by a strong grip around his bicep. Kidd chuckled.

“Ah, yeah that’s not gonna happen, pal. We don’t need you callin the pigs on us or anything. You understand, right?” Law glanced down at the hand on his arm, then turned to Killer, who had stopped him.

“Then what do you suggest, Eustass-ya?” His eyes slid over to the seemingly unconcerned bleeding male.

“Take us to your bag, of course,” was the blasé response. Law’s face dropped into a glare as his brain processed the demand. Kidd and Killer, whilst his old classmates, were also known criminals. Did her really want them knowing where he lived? It sounded like a terrible idea.  He didn’t need any gang members knocking down his door, for any reason. 

On the other hand, they wouldn’t be disturbed, as his building held a no-questions-asked policy. And it would give him the home field advantage.

Law fully turned back to face Kidd. He nodded once, which prompted Killer to release his arm. Both males moved forward and grabbed an arm to hoist Kidd up and onto their shoulders. Law internally mourned the loss of his jacket and shirt, but moved to the front of the alley where Bepo was sitting dutifully keeping watch. The Large mastiff sniffed at Killer and Kidd, growling at the latter, before turning and heading down the street.

The three males managed to make it to Law’s building with little more than an odd look or two as they stumbled through the streets. As they made their way to the elevator inside, Law pulled away and headed towards the stairs.

“Hey, where ya going, Law?” Kidd ased, almost condescendingly. Law turned, with Bepo at his heels, and looked at the bloody duo.

“Well, Eustass-ya, I need to prepare my equipment if I’m going to stitch you up. Besides, Bepo doesn’t like the elevator” Kidd snarled in response.

“Well who cares what the flea-bag feels. We stick together.” Law glared and Bepo growled. Killer, ever the mediator, held out a placating hand.

“How about I take Bepo up the stairs and prep your equipment for you?” Law turned his steely gaze to the level-headed blond. He thought about it for a moment, then sighed and acquiesced.

A few minutes, and explicit instructions later, Killer led Bepo up the stairs, Law’s keys in hand, and Law was holding up Kidd as the elevator ascended the seven floors. Kidd was staring at Law.

Despite his best effort, Law could not ignore the intense gaze bore into the side of his face. He slid his steel grey eyes over to meet carmine irises. Kidd’s eyes roamed Law’s face before settling back on his eyes and he smirked.

“How ya been, Traffy? I ain’t seen ya since graduation.” Law turned away, not dignifying the unwanted nickname usage with a response. Kidd waited all of thirty seconds for an answer. “Aww come on Law, don’t be like that. I’m just tryin’ ta make conversation.” Law kept his eyes forward, hoping that the elevator would just reach his floor already.

“You are essentially forcing me to help you out of a mess that you made, so I’ll be however I want, Eustass-ya.” he intoned as the doors finally opened. He quickly dragged the still bleeding male through the quiet hallway and to his opened door, where Bepo was sitting just indie watching Killer as he finished covering the table with plastic.

His tools were laid out neatly, and he could smell the antiseptic and sterile metal. Killer looked up and the mastiff boofed in greeting to his owner, and hurried over to help move his boss to the coffee table.

Once Kidd was settled, Law stepped away and shrugged off his jacket. He tossed it into the trash bag that Killer had so kindly provided. He then stripped off his Black turtle-neck long-sleeve shirt and tossed that as well. His fit and inked torso was exposed, but he thought nothing of it as he walked down the small hallway into his room to pull on a new clean shirt and wash his hands.

 When he returned to the living room, Kidd was holding his nose, which was bleeding. Killer sat on the couch next to him, with a hand to his masked face, shaking his head. Law raised an eyebrow.

“Why is he bleeding?” Killer shook his head again.

“Because he’s an idiot,” Law forward and began prepping.

“I didn’t know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from their nose.” He snarked as he pulled on gloves and grabbed Kidd’s other hand away from the still bleeding stab wound.

“I think it’s a new phenomenon.” was Killer’s only response as he stood up to leave. “Call me when he’s fit to leave. I left my number on you fridge. I should also change, and let the boys know what happened.

“Aren’t you worried I may kill him?” Law asked as he started to clean the wound, assessing how deep it was.

“No. I believe he is in good hands. Best of luck ‘Surgeon of Death’,” Law froze for only a moment before continuing his work.

~///~

Kidd was a confident guy. He had every reason to be. He was tough, strong, and well respected by his gang, not to mention the name he had made for himself in the criminal world. But his confidence was what had landed his in this situation, he wasn’t too proud to admit that. Lay, half-naked on a plastic covered coffee table, a dog glaring at him from it’s bed across the room, and a very fit docotor cleaning his wound.

 For some reason, Eustass Kidd was at a loss for what to do. He hadn’t expected Law to just strip right in front of him so suddenly, and now he was holrny as fuck, because damn if Law wasn’t the most attractive doctor Eustass ever had.

 The muscles alone would have been enough, but paired with the many tattoos swirling across his torso, down his arms, and onto his hands, Kidd’s blood rushed to his face so fast that he got a nosebleed. A nosebleed! Him! Like some nerdy virgin middle school boy! He knew he was going to get crap for it later from Killer based on the sigh and head shake.

Now, however, Kidd was focused on a different problem. He just couldn’t stop staring at Law’s face as the man concentrated on stitching up the now cleaned stab wound. His steely eyes were laser focused on his work, and it made Kidd feel extremely exposed, which was impressive considering his general state of dress, or lack of dress. So, in order to hide his growing … attraction to his ex-classmate, he decided to make conversation again.

“Hey Law. What's with the creepy nickname, huh?” ‘Surgeon of Death’ doesn’t sound like someone a soccer mom would let operate on her kid, ya know?” Law paused in his sewing and spared a glance at Kidd

.“Unless you want a scar, Eustass-ya, don’t talk. You’ll move your abdomen too much and then I won’t be able to sew straight.” He waited a moment before going back to work. After a few minutes he responded. “I got the title a few years ago when I was doing off the record treatments and surgeries for criminals and runaways. Anyone who couldn't pay my price or threatened me ended up ‘dead’ and in police custody.”

Kidd would never admit it, but rather than terrified, or shocked, he was only thinking about how ruthless, and hot, that was. He cleared his throat and tried very hard not to shift beneath those steady and tattooed hands.

 Law finished up his final stitch and swiped an antiseptic wipe across it to remove any lingering blood before placing a bandage across it. Once it was secure, he snapped off his gloves and threw them in the trash bag that held his bloody clothes. The large dog hopped up from it’s bed and trotted over to his owner, who was moving over towards the kitchen.

 Kidd moved to sit up, and was promptly hit with a massive dizzy spell. Law, from the kitchen, spoke loud enough for his dulcet tones to carry.

“Don’t move yet, Eustass-ya. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and will need to replenish your fluids so your body and start to make more blood. I’m grabbing you some juice to get your sugar levels back up as well. Do you happen to know your blood type?” Kidd scoffed and managed to sit up straight, perching himself on the edge of the table.

“F.” Law snorted, and Kidd heard a door open and close. It was silent for a moment before Kidd heard it open and close again. Law came back into the room orange juice in one hand and … an iv and blood bag? “Hey hey, what’s this shit?” Law set the juice down on Kidd’s lap, shoving it between his thighs so it wouldn’t fall over. He then moved to set up the IV stand with the bag of blood.

“You lost too much blood, remember? This will help. Now lay down on the couch, Eustass-ya.” As he explained,  Law positioned himself to stick the needle into Eustass’ arm. He swiped it with another wipe, and pushed in the needle with no warning or pause. The smooth motion was followed by him taping the needle in place, and a hand gesturing to the couch.

Eustass flushed a bit, a scowl appearing on his face to try and hide his embarrassment. He moved carefully over to the couch. Law, despite complaints, heled Kidd lie back, and even moved a pillow behind his head so he would be more comfortable.

“Drink your juice, Eustass-ya” was the order given before Law turned back and headed into the kitchen once more. Kidd was sure his face was as bright as his hair, and he could almost feel another nosebleed coming. He quickly grabbed the orange juice and tried to chug it, but was caught off guard when his ecarmine eyes caught sight of the pitch black ones of Law’s dog, who was staring at him from across the room. He choked  bit, and pulled the juice away to hack out what little got into his lungs.

“Don’t chug the juice, Eustass-ya. Sip it. Otherwise you’ll vomit, and I don’t feel like cleaning up any more of your messes tonight.” Law’s voice carried from the kitchen,a s well as the sounds of meal prep. The dog continued to stare at him as he followed Law’s directions.

“Hey Law, your damn dog is staring at me again.”

“That’s because he doesn't trust you. Once food it ready he’ll stop.”

 A while later, and two empty juice glasses later, food was ready, and Kidd was sitting up on the couch feeling more like himself. When Law came out wearing a “Kiss the Cook and I’ll Kick Your Ass” apron, all his previous hirniness returned. Law set down a plate before Kidd, then settled on the floor across from him. As soon as he was seated, the dog moved from his vigil position and layed down behind Law. The inked doctor leaned back onto it, and tossed a scrap of food his way.

As the meal progressed in silence, Eustass thought back to what Law had said earlier.“So, uh, about this payment.” Law’s eyes slowly moved up to meet Kidd’s own. “What exactly do you want in return?” Law, still chewing, processed the question.

“Depends on what of value you have. Normally I ask for money, the amount for supplies used [laus time and effort. But, I am flexible if you have something of use and value to me.” Kidd’s mind worked to try and figure out what he had that could work as payment to the reclusive doctor. 

“Well, Traffy, I ain’t exactly liquid right now. So, how about I give you a down payment, and then have Killer bring the rest when he comes to get me?” Law hummed into his drink (water) and set the glass down. “You’ll need to stay the night for observation, so he won’t be able to come and get you til morning.” Kidd blanched and flushed. Stay the night!? “What did you have in mind for the down payment?”

End?

This is my gift for @generaldevi who is my “secret santa” for the discord gift exchange. Hope you enjoy~!

Rose

#opdiscordge2019 #one piece #one+shot+prompt #Law x Kidd #modern!au #rose writes

[themostcleverandwittyname]

There’s Power in Pain

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5 CH6 CH7 CH8 CH9 CH10

CH11

Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess

(LinkxOC)

Summary:

A farmer with a troubled past had found a fallen hero on a riverside and makes the decision to take him in. With Ganondorf gathering power by the minute, there is no time to delay in his defeat however there is a time and place for everything as well as a lesson to learn. Link will have to do the hardest thing he has ever done and that is wait until he is ready to defeat Ganondorf.

But will Link ever truly be ready to rely on help to do the impossible? To accept that even heroes need support even from the most unlikely of people?

Meanwhile, a group of thieves organize to steal the sacred sword of the Hero of Destiny for themselves.

Chapter 10: Beedle’s Bargain Bungalow

Chapter 10 on AO3

“This is Clock Town, as you can see, there is a big clock therefore, Clock Town.”

Annette said boredly, motioning to a giant tower in the center of the town square. He could hardly hear her from where she sat on her horse, the bustle and noise of the town was loud in the midday foot traffic. One thing that was discernible among the racket of raised voices and distant music was a loud, echoing tick from the tower. It was so loud that it could be heard outside of the Clock Town walls. The day was warm and very few clouds littered the sky, so it would be expected that many people would be out, but he never knew a town could be this busy. He had never seen this many people, even in Castle Town.

They made their way through the town square to a horse stable for travelers, the sea of townsfolk parting the way, sending glares their way for interrupting their strides. In no time, Annette had booked a spot for both Cordial and Epona, giving her stead a farewell petting. Link gave his horse another look to make sure she seemed okay in the stable before he followed Annette out into the busy streets. She was wearing orange baggy, Gerudo style pants, from what she had said upon leaving the house, and a black blouse tucked in.

“Keep close and watch yourself. There are thieves that lurk around everywhere here, waiting for someone to be careless. If you ever come here alone, dark alleys at night are not your friend. Just a word of advice.” she spoke to him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him near to her in the crowd. He pressed his lips together, knowing that she meant well but she was vastly underestimating his ability to take care of himself. He felt bad for anyone who would attempt something in a dark alley that he was in. Still, the brunette held her parcel bag close to her side, and his arm with it. The concept of watching his pockets was new to him, as everywhere he traveled before was safe and most people had good will.

Through the crowd, they ventured to a nook of the square where several shops were nestled. Annette looked up at the signs, squinting to combat the sunlight that was flooding the square.

“Ah, yes. Next to the “rat’s” place. I wonder how much of a discount he’ll give.” she muttered more to herself than to him, her hand falling from his arm.

“Rat? What are you talking about?” He questioned, the area near the shops were less crowded so he didn’t have to shout over the converging voices. Annette looked up and smirked, lifting her hand to point at a general store on the corner.

“That’s Zania’s competition and she calls him a “rat” because his prices are lower than hers and she hates him. Beedle is actually a friendly guy, but Zania and I would engage in a fistfight if she knew I went into his store.” she said and mused for a moment, her fingers caressed her chin. Then with a spark of mischief, she looked up with a grin. “Wanna go check it out?” she offered, her eyebrows arched up. He nodded, intrigued by her rebellious action against her friend.

Even though it wasn’t much, it still felt like he was helping her break the rules and it was amusing. She beamed happily and grabbed his arm again, dragging him along to the storefront. Upon opening the door, the scent of incense and perfumes tickled his senses and he was almost overwhelmed by the clutter of so many things in the shop. Many tables were piled high with various items ranging from region to size. The windows of the shop allowed the screened sunlight to filter in and reveal every item. In the back of the shop were piled boxes and barrels of stock. The thing that interested him most was behind the counter, where an assortment of arrows and a shield lay.

Annette migrated to the tea set that sparkled in the sunlight and he took his opportunity to look over the arrows. Wrapped in ribbon were bundles of arrows, which he counted silently to see that each bundle was ten arrows. The man at the counter perked up as Link approached, his round eyes and large nose were defined and he was certain he would be able to pick him out of a crowd. His middle part and freckles couldn’t be missed either. Taking no pause, the man perked up and welcomed Link in a cheery voice.

“Hello, welcome to Beedle’s Bargain Bungalow, Let me know if you see anything that interests you! I see you’re a new face, so I’ll tell you that our new dynamite powder will knock your socks off!” the man explained excitedly, a giggle punctuated his sentence. Link was immediately drawn in, if dynamite powder functioned like a bomb as he got from the name itself.

“Dynamite powder? How does it work?” Link asked, his eager voice got the better of him and he heard Annette sigh from behind him. Ignoring her minute input, he turned his focus towards the shop keeper for an explanation.

“You can use it one of two ways. You can spread it on the ground in a trail and light one end with a match and watch it burn all the way to the end or you can pour a pile of the powder and light it on fire and kaBOOM, a big explosion! Please know the Beedle’s Bargain Bungalow is in no way responsible for the injury or damage caused by this product and we hold no liability for any consequences Fifteen rupees a sack!” in Beedle’s explanation, Link was already concocting ways to use the powder with his other weapons. A fire tornado when and if he got the gale boomerang back would be all he could ask for.

Link nodded, acknowledging Beedle’s spill, but taking a step back. He didn't have any rupees so there was no reason in getting too eager yet.

Instead, he resorted to giving a thankful wave and joining Annette where she was gathered around an assortment of instruments and such including cases, straps, and polishing supplies. She was looking over at a bow for a violin, it’s mahogany polish gleamed in the low light of the shop. She gave a satisfied hum and placed it down, moving to the next one. He too looked at the assortment of items and a collection of wind instruments laid in their respective sections. There was one odd-looking instrument littered with holes, the label above it read ocarina and he was curious.

Picking it up, he turned it over in his hand and looked it over, yet something close by caught his eye much more than the ocarina. A pan flute laid and it was the only one among the other instruments, the wood pipes curved and were held together with several strands of colored twine, the dark brown, orange, and blue reminded him of Ordon. Annette looked over at him as he picked it up, her hazel eyes recording his actions. After a fleeting moment, she turned her attention back down. With that, he lifted the flute to his lips, without thinking much about the sound it would make, and blew into the flute. The tone sounded out and broke the silence, drawing the attention of the shopkeeper.  

“That one is rare! It’s only fifty rupees here, but any other place would charge much more.” Beedle informed, before going back to organizing some items behind the counter. His eyes didn’t leave it as he sat it down and looked up to find the brunette biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes darted from him to the flute. Giving him a knowing look, she turned and made her way to the counter, whispering something in a hushed tone. He didn’t hear what she had said, but as he joined her at the counter, the conversation progressed.

“Well, Miss Annette, if you would let me sell your jams here, it would just make me so happy.” he said, a fond giggle escaping him as he leaned forward on the counter, chin propped on his palm.

“Thats… I’m sorry, I’ll be disowned if I do that, you know. I already have a place that I’m selling my jams and that place is quite jealous.” she explained, and Link knew she was talking about Zania. Beedle laughed in spite of himself.

“That’s a shame. I know that I would give you a higher percentage of the profits, but you can’t betray your friend. Unless you just don’t tell her?” he said, his cheery tone clashed with his persuasive words. Annette gave him a challenging grin, her nose crinkled a bit.

“Yeah? That would be an ace plan if Zania was deaf. Besides, Zania does a lot more for me than just a little more profit. But nice try.” she said, her voice dripped with a tinge of bitterness, yet could have come across as being teasing. Link had heard the difference and knew it at this point.

“Oh well, that’s a shame then. I would have loved to sell your jams so much, but all I can do is try.” he said, straightening himself up.

“Hmm” Annette began, her voice hinting at some overblown idea that she perhaps had been planning the whole time. With a knowing grin, she leaned forward as if to tell a secret and Link too leaned in, wondering what she was up to.

“You could still sell them. I have honey strawberry jams today, which as you know are a specialty and are rare. But I don’t want a percentage.” she goaded, her eyebrow arching. Beedle’s eyes widened in excitement, but his glee soon faded when he realized there was a catch. He folded his arms defensively.

“If not a percentage, then how much are you asking for them?” he inquired and straightened up, giving a wide smile.

“For five of my super rare, specialty jams? I think that perhaps fifty rupees and three bundles of arrows will suffice. I’ll pay for the dynamite powder because I’m nice like that. What do you say?” She said coyly, her deal laid on the table. Beedle gasped and leaned forward, his arms falling from his chest.

“For five jars? That’s….” he thought about it for a moment and sighed aloud, “You drive a hard bargain but those jams will bring several people straight to my counter.” He huffed and his smile returned. “That's a deal!”

“I knew you’d think so! Great, so…” she motioned and he took the hint and gathered the arrows, dynamite powder, and rupees together for her in a bag. She pulled fifteen rupees out for the powder and graciously took the bag of supplies triumphantly. Like promised, she pulled the five jars from her parcel bag and set them atop the counter. Beedle all but drooled as he pulled them back on the counter towards him.

“Thanks for the deal, Miss Annette. This is greatly appreciated.” Beedle said, beaming and chuckling to himself.”

Annette responded with a dismissing wave and swung the bag out towards Link, her mischievous smirk further proved her manipulation tactic was planned and not at all spontaneous. He looked at her, amazed that she was able to pull that off, he himself had tried to make a deal before with other merchants, only for them to laugh him off and for him to pay full price in the end. For someone who could be so rude with her words, she was clever.

“Here you go! Don’t think that I don’t pay attention, but be warned, if you catch my house on fire with that powder, I’ll strike a bargain for your tombstone.” she jested, glowing with satisfaction. He took a breath and took the sack, peering in at the arrows and promising dynamite powder, his excitement rising.

As they approached the door, Annette covered her face and giggled into her hands, pulling the door open. She looked up at him and he knew she had done something she shouldn’t have.

“Zania is going to skin me, Link.” she said, her laughter cutting through the background noise outside of the store. He gave her a look, wondering if it was just because she dealt with Beedle or if there was another reason.

“Why? Because you made him a deal? Surely she won’t-” she cut him off with a laugh filled response.

“Those were the only five honey jams and she is gonna convulse when she knows that Beedle has them.” She had to take a breath and wipe her eyes as she calmed. He wasn’t sure why, but he too found himself laughing, more from being nervous and out of the feeling that he had helped Annette with mischief, even though in general it wouldn’t be so bad. But then again, the few times he had met Zania he was convinced that she was one to blow things out of proportion.

With no more than a few sparse giggles, Annette put them back on course taking to the street to the tailor shop just next to Beedle’s Bargain Bungalow.

Annette took the discount at the tailor’s shop for his tunic to be patched up. He really appreciated it but he noticed the entire time Annette got things settled at the tailor’s her smile faded more and more. She excused herself and told him to wait there, which he did and enjoyed looking around the tailor’s shop at all of the clothing that hung on racks and were displayed on mannequins. He wondered what had her running out of the shop.

When she returned, she had two bags. Her explanation covered one bag, but not the other one.

“I felt bad so I went out to get Zania’s favorite spice to make the soup she likes. It's a Hylian spin on a Gerudo dish and it’s incomplete without this so I’ll make it for her when she gets back from her trip.” her response explained why she had seemed down after leaving Beedle’s shop. Tucking the bags into her parcel bag, he was still left to wonder what was in the second bag and why she insisted that he stay alone at the tailor.

In no time, however, it was forgotten when they left and made their way along the street to another area of the town, a bustling marketplace full of fresh fruit, a deli, and other commodities sold under small booths spread out in the square. Annette gestured in a certain direction and they walked up to a booth that sold bread and other baked goods.

“What I wouldn’t give for some garlic bread, Link. See anything you like?” she asked, rummaging through a basket for what he was led to believe was garlic bread. He looked around and a certain type of bread caught his eye. He read the label and discovered that it was a cinnamon swirl with chocolate chip bread. Annette looked over, garlic bread in hand as if she were holding up a prime catch from a fishing trip. Spotting the cinnamon bread, she nodded more to herself than him.

“I should have known. You like sweets, right?” she said, more of a statement than a question. He looked down and gave a nod, feeling kinda embarrassed. “Cool, I can give you a nice dessert recipe but um… you might wanna get a friend to make it for you.” she said, teasing at that morning's mishap with the biscuits. Just then, two women came walking by, speaking to each other rather loudly and normally Link would just chalk it up to chatter, but what they said was particularly interesting.

“I just can’t believe he’s selling that for that price. Who even knows what it is?”

“Yeah, it’s doesn’t look useful at all. He claims you can wear it on your arm like a gauntlet, but it’s so ugly who would?”

“Especially with those pointy spikes on the end. He’s lost it for sure.”

Link considered for a moment what they were saying and he immediately thought of his lost clawshot. Could it be? If so, as Annette said, he was very lucky to just stumble across it. Annette stared at him, not realizing that he was looking past her shoulder at the passing women. Without explanation, he moved past her and towards the women.

“Excuse me, uh, can you tell me where you saw the thing you’re talking about? The gauntlet thing?” he spurted out and the women turned towards him, both giving him disgusted and offended looks for eavesdropping and interrupting them.

“You mean the ugly gauntlet thing?” The first one corrected and her friend turned and giggled to her. “Sorry, why do you want to know? You couldn’t afford it anyway.  No one can at those prices.” before he could explain himself, Annette was already at his side, garlic bread forgotten.

“Just answer the question. It’s not up to you whether or not he can afford it.” Annette spoke up, her tone harsh and commanding. Not the way he would have handled it for sure, but he wanted to see where it went.

“Oh yeah, I know about you. I doubt even the cheapest things would keep your hands off, from the rumors I hear.” the second woman said, her aloof expression made Annette take a deep breath. Link looked between the stranger and the brunette but could get no further explanation. No matter, Annette rolled her eyes and went on.

“Look, I just want to know where it is. It won’t inconvenience you to tell us.” she said, faking friendliness. Link noticed that Annette was clenching her teeth under her smile. But not for long as the first girl huffed and rolled her eyes, her defenses dropped.

“Fine, okay. It’s at Marty’s.” she answered, her voice sulky for having to tell. Obviously, it was not the high point of the town as Annette groaned and the other women nodded. With a quick thanks, Annette ignored the women and they went on their way.

“So Marty might have something of yours? That’s not good.” Annette asked and Link nodded, but was certain he could get it back. Besides, he was willing to do anything and it wouldn’t be the first time he jumped through hoops to get something for someone or do something hard for something that he needed.

Annette led him out of the area and to a store on the border of the square. Link kept his eyes sharp, looking around for any indication of something he was without. From the description, he was certain it was his clawshot.

They approached the store and with hesitation Annette pushed the wooden doors open, a long row of counter space showed various odd items lining down towards the counter in the back. Most things looked like inventions that didn’t quite work and were falling apart and others were broken and modified weapons. Screws, pins, sword hilts, bowstring, and other miscellaneous parts filled metal barrels and dared to overflow. The walls were littered with shelves of jars that held fluids that contain things that Link couldn’t place. On the opposing wall, monster heads were mounted among other beasts. One, in particular, were wolves, their faces twisted into snarls. Link felt his stomach turn at the sight.  The place looked like it was filled with junk, but had something to offer for someone looking for a spare piece of something.

In the back there was a workbench and a smith with various tools laid in a messy array on the solid, stone ground. Hunched over something with a magnifying glass, a stout, balding man observed something alarming familiar. Link made his way past the brunette and to the man, who barely noticed their arrival, busy humming to himself. Scooting behind the front table, Link leaned forward to see that the man was in fact examining his clawshots, both of them. He was even luckier!

The man, without looking up, spoke up to Link directly.

“You know this device, don’t you? Had you lost it?” he asked, and Link was taken aback. Before he could answer, the man continued. “They say that devices like this are very old and I can tell that it is not from this time. It has been lost and locked away and only someone who was very determined could have found something like this.” He said and took to his feet slowly, turning towards the blonde slowly.

Link sized him up and he was a man short in stature but he looked like he worked a hard job, his large arms littered with burns. Must be a smithing side consequence. The man had a draping beard that began just under his chin, yet the top of his head was shiny as ever. His eyes gleamed.

“But, only someone stupid could have lost this, so it’s mine now and I’ll only accept 5000 rupees for it.” he said definitively, placing his hands on his sides. Link let that sit for a moment and cursed in his mind, hating how unfair that was. There was always something that could be done in exchange, always an angle. If Annette could do it, he could too.

“What if-”

“You are the one they speak of, aren’t you? The one that slain that evil king in Hyrule field? If you are, then I have a proposition for you instead of a price.” the man interrupted, his face twisted into a hopeful grin. Link gave a glance to Annette, who motioned for him to come over to her. He gave another look at the man and joined her as she led him out of earshot of the man, who looked on from his spot. She pulled him down to her and whispered in his ear.

“This guy is a nutcase and he’s been reading too many old fairy tales about the past. He’s delusional. You don’t have to indulge him if you don’t want to. I might know another way to get it back, but you won’t like it at all.” She began, her words brushing against his ear.

“Why wouldn’t I like it?” he asked in a low voice, but he knew it was probably something that he himself would never do. She closed her eyes for a moment before explaining.

“You wouldn’t like it because I know someone who might be able to get it for you, but it will be illegal. I don’t want to, but if you really need this, I can ask.” she said, her words coming out slow. He was silent and made a quick decision.

“Let me figure out what he’s asking for and then I’ll decide. Thanks for warning me.” he stated, and she exhaled and looked away, muttering a response that sounded like it was nothing . He looked back to Marty, who was waiting patiently for their private conversation to come to a close. With a moment to gather himself, Link formed his question.

“What are you proposing?” he asked, and the man perked up with excitement. He rushed over to the clawshot and scooped it up. He offered it to Link, much to his confusion. He thought the man had a condition?

“Please, show me how to use this! Then I’ll let you know my proposition.” He blurted and Link took the clawshot, it’s weight did nothing good for his left arm, so he switched it to his right. He held it out and in a silent demonstration slipped it on his arm, all the way to his elbow.

“There’s a switch in the inside, right where your fingers should reach. Pull it down and the claw will be shot towards where you aim it. It is spring loaded, so it will immediately retract.” Link explained as best he could, the man watching in awe. He aimed it across the room, towards the front door, hoping the distance would aid him when he pulled the lever. Annette too looked on with curiosity, any cynicism absent from her face.

His fingers curled around the level and he pulled it, the claw launching out from its base, the sound of rattling chains filled the silence. His hope had failed him and from across the long room, the claw still reached the wooden door, it’s sharp metal prongs crunched into its surface with a crack. Before he realized his error in judgment, he was launched across the room, his heels trying to make traction on the ground to regain some control. In any other circumstances, this would be just what he wanted but he knew what would happen if he wasn’t using his clawshot to get to some high place. Just as he anticipated, he slammed into the wooden door and fell over, the clawshot still lodged in the wood.

Groaning, he sat up, recovering from his hit, which luckily had no real consequence on his broken arm. Looking up, he saw that the man had not moved from his spot and Annette stared at him with shock, her mouth hung open. With a tug, he dislodged the claw from the door, with it breaking off a hunk of wood.

Annette, once able to shake her shock away, rushed over to him, falling to her knees where he had sat up.

“Oh my goddess, are you hurt? That looked like it hurt.” her face paled, if possible, and she reached out to tug the clawshot from his arm, setting it aside. Without asking, she pulled his right arm towards her and looked at his hand and arm in a quick one over.

“That was…” she cracked up, her worry vanishing with her nervous laughter, “...the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.” her words marred by her snort, she fell back off her knees and onto her butt. He tried to shake away his frustration, but it flared. Pushing himself up, he felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and he scooped the clawshot into his grip. Annette’s laughter faded, and she looked up at him.

“Oh, are you mad? I didn’t mean to upset you but that was a spectacle. Just look at the door.” she said, her humor still laced in her voice. He looked at the door and immediately felt guilty. Taking the clawshot up towards the front, he heard the woman shuffle to her feet.

The man looked at him, his eyes wide as Link came back to the counter. Link shyly handed him back the clawshot, closing his eyes ready to have the man yell at him about the door. The next thing that came from the man was certainly loud, but not scolding.

“That was the best thing I’ve seen in months! How did you learn to use these! I wonder if I could make a replica for myself!?” he yelled in excitement. Link’s eyes cracked open and he felt his guilt wane.

“I’m sorry about the door…” he began and the man interjected.

“Don’t be! I have a cool story to go along with it! Besides, I would have never figured out how these things work without you showing me.” his mood had shifted and Link thought back to what the brunette had said about the man reading fairy tales.

“So, the proposition? I need those back as soon as I can get them.” Link said, hoping his impatient feeling didn't show in his tone. The man looked back at the other clawshot and sighed, realizing he would have to part with them if Link succeeded in whatever weird thing he was going to ask of him. The blonde waited and the man finally spoke after some thinking.

“My daughter made me a hat and I put all of my fishing lures into it, one of which was rare. It blew away in the wind and landed on top of the clock tower.  I miss my hat so much and I want it back so when I found these, I thought I could use them to get my hat back, but my arms can’t fit inside because I’m too muscular. If you could take one of these and bring my hat back, I’ll give you back the other one.” He proposed, and it was a reasonable request. Link had been asked to do harder things.

Glancing back at Annette, who was returning to her place behind him, he gave her a nod and she returned it, their silent communication doing well enough. He had made up his mind.

“It’s a deal. I’ll get your hat back.”

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5 CH6 CH7 CH8 CH9 CH10 

CH11

#loz #loz twilight princess #loz link #LoZ TP #legend of zelda #Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess #legend of zelda link #legend of zelda fanfiction #legend of zelda tp #link x reader #link x oc #link fanfic

[badgerpride96]

A Wild West Experience Part 9

*Crawls out of Black Lagoon* I’m alive I promise. This took me so long to write and type, but it’s here now and I’ll be posting a snippet of Part 10 because I’ve been silent for so long!

Gio arrived at the office the next day, woke Jones up, and made coffee. The two men chatted, as always, but something was off, missing. Jones went on his way, Gilbert trotting ahead. Gio paced a bit, drank his coffee and read some claims.

It hit him. There was no noise above him. No rustling, pacing - nothing. It was too peculiar; the sheriff went to check at the door. He quietly mounted the stairs, and upon not hearing anything at all, knocked. The door swung open - the room was empty. 

The sheriff’s stomach dropped to his knees. He could only assume she’d run, that he’d been so very wrong. He clattered back down the stairs to the storage safe. All her weapons were still there. The sheriff spun on his heels and clutched his hands behind his head. Maybe he’d miscalculated, and the opposing sheriff had nabbed her. 

“Persephone,” he muttered to himself. There was no time to call Sam. Gio snatched his hat up. However, as he threw open the door, he nearly collided with Sam himself. 

“Lord, Sam!” Gio pulled the young man to his feet. 

“I’ve a message, sheriff, urgent!” 

“Sam, unless it’s about Miss Rose, I don’t have-”

“It is!” Sam gasped, rubbing his chest. “It is about Miss Rose.”

This actually surprised the sheriff. He checked, almost stumbling again. “Oh. Well let’s hear it then.”

“Sass was wantin to let you know that Miss Rose is currently sleepin at the Goose.”

“At the Goose?”

“Yes Sheriff. He sends his apologies if you were worryin, but he kept her there after they both had a bit too much t’drink, y’see,” Sam rattled off. 

Gio was trying to reconcile his mind to this significantly calmer turn of events. “At the Goose,” he muttered again. “Astounding.”

Any reply, Sheriff?” Sam sam asked, hopping from one foot to the other. 

“Ah, right. Sam, send back that I’ve gotten the message, and I’ll be droppin round bouts when Jones relieves me tonight. No need for Miss Rose to come here, she can stay at the Goose today.”

Sam took off again. Gio shook himself and looked out across General St. and Main. It had continued to be hot, but he sensed a wind today. A hot, dry wind that makes you anxious and afraid as it howls, that churns itself into dust devils, that leaves anger and dust in its wake. Such winds almost never entered Haven. There had been one that lasted a week, the week the War was declared. There had been one right before a prairie fire had decimated the outskirts of Haven. Gio felt one now, rustling its breezes, creeping along the streets. 

Gio took a deep breath, nodded once, and turned his back on the hot wind.

At just about 5:00, Jones arrived. Gio had been uneasy all morning, and thus was itching to leave. He had taken several turns of the town, meeting with people and receiving claims. But by 2:00, no one wanted to be outside, and he retreated to the office. 

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Jones asked as Gio hastily grabbed his hat and raised the horse screen. 

“The Goose,” was all he got in reply. 

“I don’t blame ye, it’s blisterin out there, and now there’s a wind!”

“Ye don’t say,” Gio thought as he pulled Gigi around and set off for the bar. He barely hitched Gigi before running up the stairs.

Kelly was behind the bar, laughing at something Owen was saying. She was back in her dungarees and a shirt, which looked strikingly like Sass’s favorite. Sass himself was pouring beer. Gio went to the end of the bar, leaning on the counter expectantly in the universal “we need to talk” stance. Elek nodded at him, slid the pint down the bar to its grateful customer, and came over.

“Late night?” Gio asked with a touch of irritation in his voice. 

Sass narrowed his eyes. “Yes. If you’re thinkin I should have sent a note late night, I was in no fit state to be contactin anyone. I’m sorry you were worried. But she was safe with me.”

“It’s not just her safety, Sass. She’s still an outlaw. She’s wearing your shirt, for God’s sake! Tell me you didn’t-”

“Gio,” Elek said, half angry and half amused. “Tell me you know me better than that. She’s wearin my shirt because she didn’t have one with her and didn’t wish to wear the same dress.”

Gio stared his best friend in the eye for several seconds, then sighed. “I do know you. Just, for God’s sake, send a note or wake Sam or ride your damn horse over next time. I was panicin.”

Sass gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re the boss.”

“Damn straight.” Gio leaned in, making sure Kelly was heartily engaged in telling Owen an adventure of hers. “What did happen?”

“Nothin. We had some drinks, which I admit were...exaggerated, we did some talkin; she fell asleep and I carried her upstairs. That’s all.” 

“That’s all?” Gio searched Elek’s face for any sign Elek was hiding something. Sass stared him down with a straight face.

Then, so small Gio almost missed it, Sass smiled. “That’s all. I wan’t unsavory.”

Gio let him go and settled in next to Owen. Kelly nodded to him, took a beer order, then came over. 

“I’m awfully sorry,” she said quietly. 

Gio waved away her apology, mostly for decorum’s sake. Owen was trustworthy, but people would ask why the sheriff couldn’t control the one outlaw in his custody, or they would gossip that Sass was colluding with her. No one would believe it, but everyone would say it. “No, it’s alright. Old Fashioned, if you would.” Kelly winced slightly, but made an excellent drink. “You alright?” Gio asked her.

“What? Oh! Yes! Just fine!” The doors of the bar opened, and she looked up smiling. “Admiral! Welcome!”

“Good afternoon, m’lady.” The admiral strolled to a seat on the other side of Owen. “I have a list of witnesses I want to call, I’ll have to write off to them. If you might provide the addresses, I can get them out with the 6:00 mail.” He pulled out a sheaf of paper, and handed it to her. 

“Naturally,” she glanced down, nodding. “Sass, can I use your writing desk?”

“Be quick,” Sass said, and she dashed off. She returned only a few minutes later, her tightly curled writing accompanying the admiral’s loopy scrawl. “Here you are, Admiral, I knew my hobby of memorizing lines would come in handy. Remembered them all.”

“Smashing! My dear bartender, may I now take advantage of said writing desk?”

“My office is gettin many attentions, is it?” Elek jerked his head to the office and the Admiral disappeared. “Well then, who wants sausage plates?” Several tables in the bar cheered back, “Right ‘ere!”

The next two hours passed pleasantly enough. This was the hottest day yet, and the wind Gio had noticed had broken cover. Folks came in dusty from hat to boots. 

“Is this a hot wind?” Elek muttered to Gio, leaning across the bar.

“‘Fraid so. Clocked it this morning.”

Elek grimaced.

“What’s that you two are whisperin about?” Kelly asked lightly, though she had the grace to ask quietly.

“Hush,” Elek said anyway, bumping her shoulder. Gio flicked his eyes to his friend’s face. The bar girl, having just started her drink at a table in the closest corner, smiled into her glass. 

“There’s a hot wind in Haven.” Gio said.

“What’s so secret about a wind?” 

“Hot winds bring trouble,” Gio told her quietly, Elek nodding in agreement. “Fires. Fights. Just trouble and always bad.”

Kelly glanced out the window at the sunset. “What’s this one blowin in?”

No sooner had she spoken the question than the doors of the Goose bashed open, hitting the wall and half swinging back again. Several people jumped. Gio and Owen whipped around. The bar girl darted behind the counter. Elek seized Kelly’s hand and pulled her behind him, to her annoyance. Yet when she saw what shadowed the doorway, she went white.

A tall, gaunt man stood in the middle of the doors, a few steps in. His appearance was both hulking and almost sickly. He was pale, but for his dark, sunken eyes. His lips seemed locked in a permanent sneer, just showing his teeth. He was covered in dust, from the soles of his boots to the Sheriff’s star on his chest. 

Three more men came in, standing behind him in a V. The farthest one looked at the bar girl and licked his lips. She shuddered, gripping the neck of an empty whiskey bottle behind her back.

Gio and Owen stood in front of Kelly as well, Sass glaring behind them, forming their own barrier. “Sheriff,” Gio said, nodding slightly.

“Sheriff,” Thomas replied, his voice deeply gravelled. He looked past Gio, straight into Kelly’s eyes. “Sister.” His sneer deepened. 

“Tom. So you finally caught up.”

“You finally realized you couldn’t run.” He turned back to Gio. “This is foolish, the whole charade of a trial. We all know she killed her husband, just release her to me. Justice will be swift in our dealin.”

Gio brushed his shirt back, and saw the sheriff’s eyes flick to the revolver on Gio’s hip. “All due respect, Sheriff Thomas, you’re in my town now, and this lady is in my custody. The trial will go ahead.”

Thomas stepped closer. “She got to you, didn’t she? You’re all protecting her, but I tell you, her own husband was murdered at the hands of this bloodthirsty bitch.”

At the insult, chairs screeched and every woman (and some of their braver male counterparts) stood up, some yelling objections. Every man, standing or not, made his weapon visible.

Before Gio could say anything, Kelly said loudly, “Call me whatever slurs you want, Tom. I’m not goin with you and they’re not lettin me go anyways. There will be a trial, and we’ll decide this there.”

The Sheriff moved as though to reach for her, but with so many hips glinting, he raised one hand. “Alright now, we’re in agreement. A trial it is, however much of a circus it may be.”

Gio addressed him cordially enough, but did not give any signal to stand down. “We can have rooms prepared for you and your men for the duration-”

“No, thank you, we’d not suppose the...hospitality of Haven. We’ll sleep out in the fields over yonder. Me and my men are well used to campin by now.” Thomas’s men looked as though they may not entirely concur, but they didn’t correct their leader. 

“Fine. Come into town for food or water. The trial will begin in two days, soonest the judge can do.” Gio stepped towards the other man, making it clear whatever welcome there had been, was overstayed. The bar girl finally relaxed; she had seen one too many bar fights for her liking. She glanced at Sass, and as he nodded to her, she saw that his hand still grasped Kelly’s. Kelly herself  began to come around the bar, following her accuser and releasing Elek’s hand. She and Gio escorted the sheriff and his men out to their horses. 

“By the way, Tom,” she said as he swung onto his horse, “you really ought to work on that act of yours.”

He curled his lip at her. “What’s the meaning of that?”

Gio and Sass, having come to the door, watched as she defiantly glared up at the man on the horse. 

“Because if you were a better man, a better sheriff, or just plain better at bullshittin, you would’ve remembered that he was not simply my husband. He was your brother, too.”

The smirk vanished and Thomas’s face darkened in anger. He jerked his reins, and galloped out of Haven, Kelly glaring after him.

–

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-–

For more Content, check out @contentcreatorshaven or www.contentcreatorshaven.com! We are a creator collective dedicated to helping each other make it in this very crazy world.

#badger scribbles #writing #short story #A wild west experience

[chlobenet]

-- VIOLENT DELIGHTS     ☠️

The events of the past few days had left Genevieve Lock reeling. Gone were the quiet days spent down by the canal, reading a book or sketching the wild flowers that grew there. Now her days were filled with meetings at the Shelby brothers bookmakers, some she was cordially invited to sit in on - much to Ada’s displeasure - and others she was most certainly not. 

There was a new copper in town, Inspector Campbell, an Irish Man that had been sent to Birmingham by Churchill himself on a matter of national interest, something about a robbery although that was as much as Gennie knew. She was yet to meet the Inspector herself, and was quite thankful for the fact, having patched Arthur up after a particularly nasty run in with Campbell and a few coppers a day or so beforehand. 

In the bookmakers Genevieve sat at her desk, looking blankly down at the page before her. She had long since written down the odds for that particular race and had been staring at the ink for so long that the numbers appeared now more like dots that had blurred together to cover the page. 

“Gennie?” John cleared his throat, announcing his arrival at the side of her desk. Despite his attempts, Gennie was still startled and jumped a little as she glanced up towards him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. “Oh fu- sorry...” John quickly excused his language and instead offered her a smile. “Tommy, Arthur and I are heading over to the Garrison now.” 

Gennie nodded slowly, closing the book in front of her and returning her pen to it’s station beside her small pot of ink. “Right, I’ll be off then.” 

“No, no Gen.” 

“Or, I can stay and close up?” She offered as she stood. John sighed and pulled off his peaked cap, looking up at her from under his eyelashes. 

“You’re welcome to join us.” 

Genevieve blinked at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His eyes seemed to smile at her, encouraging her to accept his offer. His lips moved around the toothpick that hung lazily between them and his hands picked at a loose thread on his cap as he awaited her answer. Genevieve had spent very little time in the Garrison since the war had ended, going only when it was absolutely necessary that she do so. Before the war, however, it had been an entirely different story. Gennie had spent most nights in the pub which, at the time, had been the beating heart of Garrison Court, the area of Small Heath where Genevieve Lock had grown up. 

“Come on Gennie...” Archibald Lock, or just Archie to his close family and friends, tugged on his cousins hand lightly as he stood outside the double doors to the Garrison pub. 

“Arch I can’t.” Genevieve protested, sticking her bottom lip out ever so slightly as she did so. “Women aren’t allowed in.”

“Not unaccompanied.” Archie corrected her with a sly smirk, glancing over his shoulder towards his best friend who grinned a toothy response. “But on the arm of one John Shelby...I don’t think Harry will have two words to say about that.” Gennie had already surrendered before Archie had finished his sentence and the trio were halfway through the door by the time that he had finished. 

Inside, all eyes turned to the trio of teenagers. One of them a Shelby boy, the other his very best friend, and the third, a young girl with brilliantly blonde hair and wide innocent eyes, far too innocent for the likes of the Garrison. 

The owner, a man called Harry, watched the trio from his side of the bar, polishing a glass as he did so. “We don’t want no trouble Mr Shelby.” He directed his words towards John, who puffed up his chest with pride - usually he stood in the shadow of his elder brothers, but today he was alone, and suddenly the most important man in the room. 

“No trouble Harry.” John assured him, grabbing a toothpick from a jar on the bar top and placing it between his lips. “We brought Gennie here to sing for you.”  There was a cheer amongst the men who sat drinking in the pub and Genevieve felt her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. Harry smiled behind the bar and nodded once, signalling that he was more than happy to have a little music to drown out the sounds of the drunkards that filled the Garrison.

“It would be my honour to have you sing in my pub Miss Lock.” He said with a smile, and Genevieve nodded her head curtly in response. 

John helped her up onto a table whilst Archie headed up the stairs to the gallery where a piano lay dormant and dust covered. He lifted the lid and blew away some cobwebs before he took a seat and expertly played a tune, the words to which he already knew that Genevieve knew off by heart. They sang and played for the rest of that night, and for many nights after that, until the war began and music stopped in the Garrison all together.  

“I don’t know that I can.” Genevieve spoke softly and a hint of a frown ghosted across John’s handsome features. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but refrained from doing so, instead he cocked his head to the side, a small smirk dancing across his lips. 

“Gennie Lock,” he began “you will accompany me and my brothers to the Garrison this evening, by order of the Peaky Blinders.” 

Genevieve laughed, her eyes rolling instantly at his words. They had been good friends for long enough that she could get away with such an act, something that just about anyone else would be cut for. “Very well.” She uttered with a smile. 

Walking through the streets of Small Heath alongside the Shelby brothers was something that Genevieve was quite certain she would never get used to. The way crowds of people parted like sea when the Peaky Blinders passed through them, and the way that chatter faded into an eerie silence whenever they were near were things that were completely alien to Gennie Lock, who was known around the area as one of the sweetest and most kind hearted folk. Despite this, she found herself in the company of the Peaky Blinders, men whose reputations proceeded them, but who - when Genevieve Lock was concerned - would never lay a finger on the girl with the golden hair. 

As they neared the Garrison, Gennie fell back a little, allowing the three brothers to walk on in ahead of her. She did this partly out of respect for the Shelby men and partly due to the fact that the closer they got to the building and the double doors that lay entry to it the clearer the sound of a woman’s voice became to her. 

‘the boy I love is up in the gallery, the boy I love is looking at me...’

Thomas heard it too, and a stony expression set upon his chiseled features at the sound of it. He glanced over his shoulder towards Genevieve - whose already pale skin had seemingly become impossibly paler the closer they’d gotten to the Garrison - before he pushed open the doors to the pub, just in time to hear all of the patriots joining the singing which was being led by the new blonde barmaid who stood on a stool at the far end of the room. 

‘can’t you see him standing there, waving his handkerchief, as merry as a robin that sings on the tree’

Gennie stood in the doorway to the Garrison pub for perhaps the first time since Archie Lock, her beloved cousin, had perished in the Great War. She stared at the blonde barmaid who stood proudly on her stool, her expression one of sheer defiance. A tear fell from Genevieve’s eye and she moved her hand quickly to wipe it away as Harry made his way from behind the bar towards the Shelby brothers. Tommy’s gaze shifted towards him, slowly. 

“We haven’t had singing in here since the War.”

There was silence in the room for what felt like an eternity, Thomas stared at Harry, unblinking for a moment, before he finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Why do you think that is Harry?” He asked coldly. 

Harry’s attention turned now to the blonde who stood amongst the Peaky Blinders, a rose amongst many dangerous thorns, and he swallowed hard. “Miss Lock...” He greeted her nervously, “we have missed you here, you and Arch-” Before he could finish Archibald’s name, Gennie had turned and rushed to leave, tears staining her cheeks as the painful memories of her departed cousin built up inside of her. 

“Go after her John.” Thomas ordered, and John willingly obeyed, making sure to give Harry a glare before he went after the golden haired girl. 

#violent delights #gennie lock #peaky blinders oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby x oc #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x #gennie x john #gennie x tommy #genevieve lock #mine #thomas shelby imagine #john shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfic #grace burgess #arthur shelby #peaky blinders #idk if this is a chapter or a one shot TO BE HONEST #idk what this is #will i write more? #maybeeeee #this isn't really chapter one like idk whats going on tbh

[freedom-shamrock]

It Sounds Familiar - Chapter 1

This is the Marichat May prompt, can I pick, Princess?

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Adrien sniffed at the air.  She was back. It was enough to rouse him from his spot in the sun so he could go see her again.  His paws were light, pattering against the concrete, and he felt her reach out with her magic. He closed his eyes and basked in the warmth for a moment.  His father's magic had never felt like this, not even in the days before the bindings and the cuffs. The difference made him curious, but his memories of painful magic were too fresh for him to get too close.

She looked about his age, and that seemed a bit odd.  He'd always heard witches tended to get their familiars around fourteen.  Had she been unable to form a bond with a cat until now? Given her unaided strength, that seemed unlikely.

"Hello lovelies," she said, putting down a little cup of milk for the two strays who'd already approached her.  Moving slowly, she reached into a pocket and pulled out another container. When she opened it, the aroma of chicken filled the air.  

He really missed chicken, but that wasn't enough to draw him in.  She was a witch, and he'd always been warned that witches who were looking for familiars could not be trusted.  The meat was enough to summon Miss Gigi, a bonded familiar who lived in the area. He'd met with the blue eyed Birman cat briefly in passing, but he'd been reluctant to trust her, and she clearly thought he was peculiar.  Elevated cats were probably just as dangerous as their magic users.

"Good evening, madame," the girl said brightly, offering Miss Gigi a bit of the meat, but making no move to touch her.  "I can see you're not for me, but you deserve a treat, too."

Though skittish, the two strays wriggled and pounced in their enthusiasm for fresh meat, a rare find on the streets of Paris.  When Adrien expected the girl to scoop one of them up, she simply reached out to scratch under their chins. Wasn't she supposed to be stealing them away?  If she couldn't afford a purebred or shelter cat, shouldn't she be desperate? That definitely wasn't the vibe she gave off.

He felt eyes on him, and looked down to Miss Gigi who had finished her meat and was watching where he sat in the shadows.  When he met her yellowy eyes, she glanced at the witch and then back at him. She wasn't calling him out, but she was definitely trying to get a message across.

Once the milk and meat were gone, the girl gave out a few more pets before packing away her thermos.  "Thank you for visiting with me," she said, a happy smile on her face. "I'm afraid that none of you are for me."  She nodded to Miss Gigi. "Merry meet, madame." She caressed the strays’ heads. "If you are to end up as familiars, I hope you find good matches."  Dusting off her hands, she slowly stood up.

When the girl was gone, Miss Gigi turned back to him.  "You should keep an eye on that one," she meowed at him.  "She might be just what you need."

He couldn't get the witch girl out of his head.  He'd seen her the last three days, and each time it was the same.  She wandered the alleys until she found a cat or two to… well... visit.  There was no catnip to lure them, something he'd seen with other witchborn.  The milk and morsels weren't tainted, so she wasn't killing off strays or binding them into some sort of army.  It was strangely cordial. She never chased anyone, but let them come to her. He'd seen a particularly skittish kitten lurk three meters away while her littermates scarfed rewards, and instead of compelling the stray, the girl used her magic to deliver a few pieces of meat so the little one wouldn't miss out on a free meal.

He didn't question why he was able to find her again.  He was a black cat, at the moment at least, and he was more than a little sensitive to magic, what with having his own.  He did wonder why he was bothering to stalk her, though. She was looking for a familiar, and she'd made that clear, but what she wanted in that relationship, he couldn't guess. So far, none of the strays had met her requirements, so why would he?

He shook his head, hesitating before continuing on his path in search of the sweet witch.  He didn't want to be a familiar. He'd run away from home five months ago to escape the bindings his father imposed on him.  Why on Gaia, would he seek out permanent magical entanglements? Of course he didn't want to be a familiar. He was a stray, and that's how he'd live until he turned eighteen, or maybe the rest of his life.  It was better this way.

He continued on his way, again hiding himself in the shadows to watch her.  He observed as Miss Gigi proudly strolled into the alley, a short line of strays following behind her.  When the girl bent down with her cup of milk, Miss Gigi nudged the free cats to approach. Adrien grinned, flicking his tongue against his delightfully sharp teeth.  She was trying to help the girl, like some sort of familiar matchmaker. It was adorable.

This time things went a little different, and he held his breath as the girl scooped up a gray tabby from the little clowder.  Had she found her familiar? Why did that make his chest hurt?

"Oh dear," she said softly.  "You have ear mites." She fondled the cat's ears, and looked up to meet Miss Gigi's eyes.  "I'd like to treat his ears. Can you let him know I'm not going to harm him?"

Miss Gigi bobbed her head and let out a series of mrrows.  "Sit still and let the witchling cure your ears. You'll be grateful for it later."

The cat sat docile while the girl dripped a minty smelling potion on his ears.  She waved a hand over his head, and Adrien felt the magic, even from his hiding place.

"There you go," the girl said.  "Good as new." She gently set the cat back down and finished doling out treats.  "Thank you for coming to see me," she told the cats. "And I do appreciate your help, madame."  She bowed to Miss Gigi. "I'm afraid I've got to go." She cleaned up her things, reaching to give Miss Gigi a bit of meat before heading out.

Miss Gigi sat where she was, long after the girl had left.  She looked up to the shadows. "Did you think she was going to pick that Tom?" she meowed.  "How did that feel?"

He took a three hop route down to the alley beside her.  "She wouldn't want me."

"She's powerful, and you're sensitive," Miss Gigi continued.  "You're exactly what she wants."

"Not exactly ," he replied.

"You aren't meant to be a stray," she hissed.  "You're clever and resourceful, I've no doubt you'll handle the winter fine, but this is the wrong life for you."  She stared into his eyes for a moment before turning away. "There is an opportunity before you."

"An opportunity to be enslaved?" he asked.

Miss Gigi laughed.  "That girl will not be enslaving her familiar.  She's looking for a partner, a companion. Are those things you want?"

Adrien was quiet for a moment.  Miss Gigi was defying everything his father claimed witches would do if they found out about him.

"Do you want respect and affection?" Miss Gigi asked.  "For those will be in your future, should you go with that girl."

He stared at his paws a moment.  "How can you be sure? People change."  His father had never been exactly warm to him, but when his mother was still around, he'd seemed fond of Adrien.  That all changed when she left.

"My witch is gifted in reading the currents of time and chance," Miss Gigi said.  "As her familiar, I've a fair paw at seeing." She got to her feet. "Think hard on this child, and don't let it pass by without making an actual decision on it."  She turned and trotted away, her long hair flowing with her movement.

He led the witch on a decent chase to this alley.  It was quiet and empty, and had decent hiding places.  As he'd hoped, she started following him the moment she caught sight of him.

"Here kitty, kitty," she called, her voice light and playful.  

He liked her voice, even though it had haunted his dreams since the first time he saw her, over a week ago.

She closed her eyes, and he felt her magic lightly brush over him.  Smiling happily, she crouched down and pulled out the thermos he'd seen so often.  "Come on kitty. I just want to meet you." There was no lie in her words, and she looked content to wait.

The milk wasn't what interested him as he slowly crept out of the shadows toward her.  

Her eyes popped open.  "Oh," she gasped. "You're gorgeous, aren't you."

He converted years of modeling to his literal cat walk, rolling his shoulder and looking over it at her.

"I suppose you know what a handsome lad you are, huh?"  Her giggles were not the fake or insipid things he'd heard around other models.  "Do all the girls admire you?" she asked, putting down the milk cup.

"Mrrrrow," he agreed, pausing to smell the milk.  Then he reached forward just a bit to sniff at her.

"Such a brave fellow," she praised, slowly extending her hand.  

Her skin was warm against his nose, and he butted his forehead against her fingers. His magic sense kicked into overdrive at her touch.  He could feel that she was a good person, and when she ran her hand over his head, he suddenly remembered the joy in being petted, and he wondered how he'd survived without it for so long.  

"Oh, goodness, you're so soft."  She scratching at his neck, hitting all the best places.  "Don't you know how dangerous it is to prowl the streets with no tag or necklace, Chat Noir?" she asked.

Had she just named him?  It may have been a nickname or term of endearment, but he was suddenly determined get rid of his old name and use the one she'd given him.  He rubbed his head against her forearm, lifting his front paws to her knee in an effort to reach her face. If he became her familiar, he wouldn't be lonely.  He wouldn't have to worry about hiding or finding a place to fit in. He could help her, he was sure of it, though he suspected that was the magic talking.

She ran a hand over his back and drew on her power again as she looked him over.  "Huh." She put a second hand on him. "You have the strangest aura. It's almost as if you're not quite a cat, but at the same time, you really are."

She wasn't wrong, of course.  His witch was so clever, and yes, she was his; he could feel it.  His purr rumbled up in a way it hadn't in years.

She let out a sigh.  "I don't think I can claim you, Chat Noir, but I'd really like to."

His witch was silly.  He'd already decided. He was hers.  Her fingers moved under his chin, and he closed his eyes in pleasure.  

"I don't think I can leave you here, either," she whispered, more to herself.  "It's just not safe for a sweetie like you."

She sounded so concerned.  He crawled into her lap, hoping to ease her mind.

"Ooooh," she sighed.  "I'll bring you home with me, then.  And… I guess if you decide you like me, you can be my familiar, and I can be your witch.  Does that sound okay."

It was more than okay, but she couldn't understand him yet.  So he burrowed close to her and purred.

When she dipped her finger in the milk and offered it to him, he dutifully licked it off. He appreciated the offer, but food was really not the most important thing right now.

She recapped the thermos, tucking it back into her bag, then stood, cradling him in her arms.  "Do you want to stay in my jacket?" she asked. He pressed his whole body against her in response.

"Okay, then."  She tightened her belt to keep him from sliding down, and buttoned the next two buttons.  

Careful not to scratch, he settled in where he could lean against her while peeking out of the front of her coat.  

"I promise, I'm going to take good care of you."

Though she didn't understand it yet, his small "Mow," was an agreement.

I'm going to consider it auspicious that the first chapter of this comes out exactly one year after the first chapter of Something Familiar. This takes us back to the start point to explore a few key moments from that story in Adrien's perspective, so you should be able to read this without reading the other pieces in the series. Though if you like this, maybe go back and read those while you wait for me to get the rest of this out.

#Miraculous Ladybug #fanfic #marichat may 2018 #my writing #A Familiar Story #Sounds Familiar #witch and familiar au #Marichat

[daseyandconfused]

dasey + (requested)

"Oh, my God. You're in love with him." 
a/n: line prompt request. I've had part of this written for awhile now for a bigger story. So the only thing I'd like to add is that after 'Vacation with Derek' is that Casey does decide to skip college and go dance in New York but she does visit, obviously.

••• 
 There's a party back at Queens and Derek actually invites Casey, begrudgingly, she thinks, but he offers and she accepts because she just honestly doesn't have anything else to do. He kept introducing all his friends to Casey. Granted he had to introduce her as Klutzilla and Space Case, at first. But after a quick hit in the shoulder with a 'Der-ek!' he had subsided with a laugh. 
 But then Casey sees them out of the corner of her eye while she's talking with Derek and some of his friends. And suddenly  her blood is boiling and she feels like she's  back in high school again.  Because right before her very eyes is Vicky. And Truman. And more importantly it's them together. But the thing is, is she already knew they were but it makes her sick all the same to have to witness it. Derek glances over at Casey then over his shoulder where Casey's staring. He puts a protective arm around Casey because he knows she's hurting and angry. He pulls her against him until she looks at him and not them.  "You wanna go?" He asks quietly, not taking his eyes off her.  She glances back at them and sighs. "No. I'm fine." He smirks down at her and moves his hand from the small of her back to sling an arm around her shoulders. Here's the thing about Vicky and Truman and Casey. He cheated on her but everyone knows that. And like an idiot she forgave him and took him back but everybody knows that. What most don't know is that he cheated again. With Vicky, again. And then he had the nerve to break up with her before she could break up with him. She wished she had punched him. Or her. Both would be ideal, she thinks.

But when she feels Derek's arm tighten slightly around her as he laughs loudly at something his friends had said, it calms her down. She relaxes and turns back to the conversation at hand. She can ignore them. As long as they leave her alone. She'll be fine. But they don't, of course, because they're idiots.  "Hey Case!" Vicky says going in for a hug. Casey doesn't hug back. Derek also doesn't remove his arm which makes it that much more awkward. "Oh my God, I haven't seen you in forever, back from New York?" "Yeah. Vacation."
 "That's fun! How you been? How's your boyfriend.. Andrew?"
 "Fine and fine. It was nice seeing you." And she tries to turn away but- "Did he come down with you? I'd love to meet him."
 "Why? So you can kiss him while my backs turned, too?" It's harsh and she hadn't actually meant to blurt that out but she's glad she said it by the look on Vicky's face. Like she's just been slapped. Derek's friends crow loudly and she can just sense Derek trying not to smile too widely. When she manages to look at him for a split second, she's sees she's right. "Excuse me." She says taken aback.  "Okay, you're excused." 
 "Casey this is completely uncalled for." Truman appears then and that just really gets her going.  "Truman. Let me just explain something real quick. I don't like you. I don't like her. And I don't fucking have to." "Look, Casey-" Truman begins. "What part of that made you think I still wanted to converse with you?" "I know-" "No, you don't. There are over a hundred people here that you can talk to. But you chose to irritate me. I don't want apologies or small talk or anything you two have to offer except a good-bye. Go and be happy together but don't bring the person you cheated on apart of any further communication. Because I don't care." "Casey, it was just a simple hello! You have no right to insult her for trying to be friendly!" She snorts and steps out of Derek's arm. "It's not really an insult, it's more of an observation."

Truman stepped forward to speak and Derek slides in between them. "Truman, get lost." "What are you? Her bodyguard?" Casey wants to slap that smug grin off his face. How had she ever seen that look as charming?
 "Something like that."
 "Hmm, well, being honest, yanno man to man. You look like a little whipped bitch." "Babe, let's go." Vicky tries grabbing at his arm and not looking at anyone. 
 "No." He snaps pulling his arm out of her hands. "You tried to be cordial and I'm not about to let people talk to my girl that way."
 "Well," Derek smiled coyly, "I don't let people talk to my girl that way either." "Your girl? Casey's your girl? Yanno, I always knew there was something between you two. All that fighting. Just didn't realize it was sexual frustration. Wouldn't that make it incest? Just a little bit, ri-" Casey decks him, right in the nose and he crumbles to the floor in a slur of curses and blood. Vicky drops down next to him frantic and screaming as the party starts to erupt in mass chaos of cheering on the fight at hand. 


But the only thing Casey can hear is Truman's words ringing in her ears. And trying to ignore the way her heart had fluttered when Derek had called her his girl. "Fucking shit, you psycho bitch!" Truman screams from the floor as blood pours out of his nose. "Fuck, Case, c'mon. We gotta go." She nods deftly, letting Derek lead her through the swarm of people. His hand is laced in hers as she's dragged behind him out into the street. The Prince is parked a block away but his hand never leaves hers and they're almost to the car when he stops them underneath a street lamp. He turns to look at her and ultimately drops her hand only to pick up the other one. "Nice punch, by the way." The smile on his face is like looking into the sun. 
 "I can't believe I did that." He snorts and that damn smirk is on his face as he glances up at her before turning his attention back to her hand. "Well, I can't believe you didn't do it sooner. Or that you even know how to throw a punch, Princess." "I'm not completely helpless you know." She argues. One eyebrow raises up as he says, "Clearly. This is going to be bruised like hell tomorrow. But, at least, you didn't break anything."
 He's still kind of holding her hand in his and all she can think of is 'I always knew there was something between you two.' She wants to cry or scream or maybe both because suddenly there's one thought rushing in her head and it feels like a ticking time bomb. Casey rushes forward and buries her face in Derek's chest. She'll settle for just crying. 
 Derek's awkwardly stiff for half a second before his arms completely engulf her. Neither of them say anything but Casey's arms are up underneath his jacket and his hand is kinda stroking her hair and it feels like home she realizes.  His voice is soft and smirky as he says, "Don't cry on the leather jacket, Case."

And she sniffles out a laugh, hugging him tighter. "Shut up, Derek." The ride home is a blur. Mostly because the high of actually punching Truman gives away to the actual pain in her hand. She might have known how to throw a punch enough to not break anything but it was already beginning to bruise and swell up. She whines and he rolls his eyes. She complains that they should stop for ice and he argues they have ice at home. They bicker the whole way home and it only ends when they enter the house because if they wake up the baby, George and Nora will kill them. Derek walks straight to the kitchen and throws some ice into a dishcloth. "Here, Princess." "Thanks." Casey sighs. "For everything." "Don't mention it. Literally." She grins a bit, "We wouldn't want anyone to think that the great Derek Venturi has a heart now would we?" He rolls his eyes and snorts then extends his hand toward her. "Lemme see." She begrudgingly puts her hand in his and he takes the opportunity to push down roughly on the bruise. "That hurt?" She hits him hard on the shoulder with her good hand while cradling the bruised one against her chest. "Der-ek, you're such an asshole!" He laughs out, "I think you'll survive." "You're an idiot," she huffs. They argue (somewhat quietly as to not wake anyone) as they make their way up the stairs until they're both standing in front of their respective rooms. Casey glances at her door for a second before her eyes are back to Derek with the ever present smirk on his face. "Thanks for having my back tonight." She whispers. His smirk softens in a way she somehow knows is just for her. It's always just for her. "Yeah, well, you'd do the same for me." She smiles an answer because she would in a heartbeat. "Goodnight, Derek." "Night, Case." They're still looking at each other as they enter their rooms and those soft smiles they reserve for each other are on both their faces. Casey closes her door and leans back against it as she switches on her light. Immediately, she sees her face in the mirror directly across her room and sighs. "Oh my God," she whispers to her reflection, "You're in love with him."

a/n: I have one more line prompt request waiting in my inbox and I will begin working on that next, loves.

#dasey #Derek Venturi #Casey McDonald #Derek and casey #Casey and Derek #life with Derek #dasey fic #dasey fan fiction #Michael seater #Ashley leggat #life with Derek fan fiction #lwd #vacation with Derek