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fandom-imagines · 3 years

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Sweet little darling~

Fandom: House of Wax (2005)

Pairing: Bo Sinclair X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, domestic abuse (abusive relationship; not Bo) Kind of out-of-character Bo, depends on how you headcanon him for liking someone! Also not proofread yet.

Words: 2.55k

Summary: Kindness can get you killed, but it can also get you out of a sticky situation.

Part Two!

To anybody that saw their relationship, it was evident that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Perhaps it once had been, but it no longer was, and for good reason.

“You fucking bitch!” The scream echoed throughout the building, one body looming over a small, cowering young woman.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, doing her best to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. “Please don’t hurt m-“ her pleas were cut short as a tight hand grasped her arm and tugged her onto her feet, a harsh slap hitting her cheek shortly afterwards.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he cruelly laughed, mimicking her frightened and desperate tone. “How pathetic.”

“I’m sorry,”

With one final laugh, her boyfriend tossed her to the ground.

Laughter filled the truck the group of friends were currently seated in, music blaring through the speakers of a radio one of them had brought but their drunk selves were unable to remember who.

Four of the friends engaged in conversation about anything their clouded minds could think of, whilst the final friend lay against the side of the car, desperately avoiding the demanding gaze her boyfriend was giving her and had been giving her the entire night.

It was clear what he wanted.

Eyes fixated on the green of the grass beneath her, Y/N noticed an approaching truck. Choosing not to say anything, she silently waited for somebody else to notice the vehicle.

“Guys,” Lucy, a close friend of Y/N’s boyfriends, called. “Who is that?”

By now the headlights of the truck were focused on the gang who were circled around the campfire, narrowly avoiding Y/N’s figure.

“James, do something?” Y/N winced as she watched another of the girls grasp onto her boyfriends muscular arm, her blonde hair rubbing against his bare chest.

“Can we help you?” He yelled over the sound of the roaring engine, their music having been paused the second they had notice the driver. “Look dude, this isn’t funny. Just fuck off!”

James’s final sentence was one that made his girlfriend cringe, body remembering the way he had hurt her the night before using that exact same tone; it almost made her cry.

Deciding to stop him before this escalated any further, Y/N made her way towards James before placing a hand on his chest to signal him to back down. This seemed to only anger him further, something that was clear by the way his hands balled into fists. Nobody noticed, except one other person.

“Leave it,” she whispered into his ear, hand dropping from his body to hopefully ease his anger.

James’s hand reach out to her, grabbing his own with a bruising force and tugging her into him as he leaned down to her ear, ignoring the whistles from his friends who assumed he was saying something sexual.

“Just you wait till I get you alone,” James snarled in her ear, unaware of the way an unknown man glared at him before driving away.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” James spat, smashing his hand against the cars hood. “It’s busted, the fan belt is fucked.”

His anger seemed to put everybody on edge as they all fell into an uncomfortable silence, something that was uncommon for them.

“You needed a new one anyway,” Y/N mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t you fucking start,” while his words were directed towards his girlfriend, the others assumed it was aimed at the car in sarcasm; ignorance is bliss after all.

“I can help y’all.” A seemingly kind voice yelled from behind them, having heard the entire conversation. “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear ya. There’s a town not to far from here. A guy, Bo, runs a gas stop, I’m sure he’d have some.”

Before James could rudely decline this man, Y/N decided to respond. “Do you know how to get there?”

“I’ll drive ya! Truck can only fit two of you though,”

“That’d be great!” She gave the unnamed man a gentle smile, one which he gladly returned. “When are you ready?”

“Now is good,”

She simply nodded, rushing towards the car without giving James a chance to say anything, only leaving him time to follow her, but not before a “fuck sake,” left his lips.

“Thank you so much, Lester!” She grinned once again as she hopped from his truck.

“It was no bother, pleasure to meet you Y/N,” he smiled back at her, ruffling her hair slightly before realising the angered look on James’s face. “And you of course,” he nodded awkwardly whilst his hand dropped back to his side. “You two take care now,” and with those words, he drove away.

“Fucking slutting yourself out to weird men, typical,” James spat as he tugged Y/N’s hand so that she was following him into the town, ignoring how she almost tripped in the process.

“I’m sorry, I was just being nice. He was helping us!” She all but yelled, silently praying for him to loosen his grip so that she doesn’t have to use all of her concealer hiding, yet another, mark from him.

“Sure he was. He didn’t just want to get into your pants or anything, huh?”

Ignoring his hurtful words, Y/N began to look around the town.

It was quiet, too quiet. But when she began to think, it was Sunday and there was a Church up ahead at the end of the road which would make more sense, especially considering how early in the morning it was.

“There’s the garage,” James said, dropping her hand to instead point at the small garage not far from them. “Let’s go,”

Y/N followed him, quickly striding to keep up with his large legs.

“There’s nobody here,” she sighed, watching as James just barged his way into the unoccupied garage. “You can’t just go in there! That’s rude.”

“Do I give a fuck? Wait out there for all I care,”

So she chose to do just that.

“Oh, hi!” A tall man in a suit gave Y/N a bright grin, accidentally startling her slightly. “You need something?”

“O-oh, hi! Uhm, my boyfriend is in there, I’m sorry I told him not too, he needs a fan belt? I have no idea what one of them is but I-“

The man chuckled, smiling once again as he put his arm around her waist to guide her inside. “Don’t worry, darling. I got ya,” his words were somewhat calming, as though he was offering to protect her from James, despite not knowing what was going on, or perhaps he did.

“You finally grew a p-“James’s words fell short as he turned to see a man, who was significantly taller than him, stood beside his girlfriend. “Hello?”

“Hi, names Bo,” Bo’s tone was a lot blunter than the charming one he had been using previously. “You need something?” He repeated his previous words, instead this time to James and less kind. “You are in my garage after all.”

Despite knowing that Bo could easily subdue him, James chose to get angry anyway. “You got a problem with me? Don’t leave it unlocked if you don’t want people coming in,”

“James leave it,” Y/N gently pushed herself between Bo and James as James began to try get into his face. “Just ask him for what you need and let’s go.”

“Fine, we need a fan belt. Fifteen inch.”

“I might be able to do that, but you’ve already had a look so let me know what I’ve got,” Bo smirked at the angered expression on the mans face at his words.

So maybe he did have a problem with James, a problem neither of the couple knew of.

“Not a fifteen,”

“Then they’re back at the house,”

“The house? Why would they be there?”

“Deliveries are delivered there, easier for everyone really.”

Y/N watched as the two men interacted, Bo incredibly calm whilst James was boiling with anger. Part of her was scared of how he would react, his threat about ‘waiting till they’re alone’ floating around in her mind, yet some strange part of her felt safe knowing that Bo was there. Perhaps it was the fact that he could fight him with ease, or maybe that James would, most likely, never harm her in front of another person.

“Let’s just go,” She pleaded, desperation swimming in her Y/E/C orbs.

“No, I’ll stay, you go.” James seemed pleased with this idea, smirking at the way his girlfriends body tensed; he enjoyed the fear he caused her.

“That’s fine with me,” Bo chimed in, offering Y/N a smile. “That fine with you?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

“Let me just lock up,” Bo said, leading the visitors out into the street, much to James’s dismay, before locking up. “Let’s go then.” He gave James one last sarcastic smile before leading Y/N away from him.

“Do you live with anyone here?”

Y/N and Bo had been talking for a while now, having chosen to take a slow walk instead. He was nice, to her anyway. She felt as though he understood her, despite not knowing a thing about her.

“Nah, I live with my brother,” Came his response, winking at the girl as he ran a hand through his dark hair, enjoying the way she blushed under his gaze.

She knew it was wrong, finding him both attractive and sweet. But he was both of those, and James was neither, not to her at least. Maybe it was because he was the first person to be this kind to her in a long time, or maybe it was the feeling of safety she felt around him, but she was enjoying his company more than anyone else’s.

“Oh, that must be fun!”

Bo chuckled at her enthusiasm, “I suppose so,”

The pair walked up to Bo’s home, guilt filling the girl’s chest each time she let Bo’s hand brush against her own. She simply enjoyed the sparks flying throughout her body, forgetting about the pain she would receive later as a punishment.

“We’re here,” Bo’s words pulled Y/N from her thoughts, almost tripping over a rock as she came back to reality. “Easy there,” Bo shook his head whilst smiling as he caught her, sneakily pulling her body into his own without her realising it was not an accident.

“Thank you,” she blushed, unknowingly allowing herself to melt into his touch, feeling the need to savour every kind and gentle touch she was getting from a stranger.

“No problem, darling,” he smirked, once again enjoying the way she blushed at the nickname he had given her.

Hand still around her waist, Bo guided her into his home.

“Take a seat, I need to get out of this horrible suit.” His words caused a giggle to leave Y/N’s lips, her head nodding as she took a seat on the faded leather couch, watching Bo leave the room to go change.

“Sorry to keep ya waiting, Darl.” Bo’s voice startled Y/N, her body jolting in a way that made Bo feel slightly guilty, something that he rarely felt. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. It was my fault,” she offered him a weak smile, twiddling with the hem of her short-sleeved t-shirt when he seated himself beside her.

“That looks painful,” his hands cautiously reached out to gently take her hand, fingers lightly running across a hand-shaped bruise that had began to form. “You shouldn’t let him treat you like that,” Bo’s spare hand reached up to her face, hand cupping one cheek which made her flinch, Bo frowning at the action.

“S-sorry,”

Bo had no idea why she was apolgoising to him. It had been him that touched her, but it all made sense in his head.

“Does he hit you?”

Her lack of response was enough for him to understand to full situation.

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be, darling.” He sighed, hand moving from her cheek to her neck to pull her head towards his lips, planting a soft kiss on it, something that made her almost cry along with his sweet words.

“Thank you,” her own arms wrapped around his torso, grateful to be given affection without it feeling forced.

“You took your time,” James spat as Y/N walked towards him, Bo having quickly headed to the gas station for something that she couldn’t remember the name of. “Were you shagging him or something?”

“N-no,” the nervousness in her voice was something that caused Y/N to cringe, knowing that he wouldn’t believe her.

“Oh, you were.” James’s hands balled into fists as he stalked towards her, ready to attack.

“No, I had to get changed,” Bo’s deep voice startled both of them, James’s fists unclenching immediately.

“Sorry, man. Can’t be too careful with girls like these, can you?” He laughed, trying to play off his previous words as a joke.

“Can’t be too careful with men like yourself either, can you?” Bo’s words seemed innocent, despite having a deeper meaning.

“What?” James snapped. “You told him about us?” He yelled as he turned to face Y/N whose breathing was becoming laboured in fear. “You little bitch!”

As James began to march towards his girlfriend, a tight hand grabbed his fist, spinning him to face the holder only to not be able to see because of a hard punch hitting him in the jaw. The only thing he could hear was a gasp from Y/N and the ringing in his ears as he dropped to the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Bo sniggered. “You can hit a woman but the second a man touches you, you’re out cold. Pathetic,”

Y/N stood frozen to the spot, unsure of how to react.

She hadn’t expected Bo to attack him. In fact, she hadn’t expected him to do anything at all to him or about her situation. Those who knew didn’t care, so why would a stranger?

“You fucking dick!” James screamed, climbing back onto his feet to throw a punch at Bo, one that he barely reacted to.

“Leave him alone!” Y/N yelled, darting between James and Bo, shoving James away from him to the best of her ability.

“You fucking whore. I should’ve known this is what would’ve happened. Actually, I guess I already did.” His words were fast, but his fist moved towards her faster.

Bo was quicker however, grabbing the man’s fist and twisting it behind his back before kicking his legs from beneath him, effectively knocking him to the ground again.

“Vincent!” Bo yelled. “Got one for ya,” both Y/N and James were confused at his words, fear filling them both as a masked man came running out into the street, knife in hand.

Bo took Y/N’s hand, pushing her behind his hand so that she couldn’t see the horror that Vincent was committing to her boyfriend in full glory.

“Y-you killed him…” Her words were quiet, watching from one eye as the man, who she assumed to be Vincent, tugged away the lifeless body. “Are you going to kill me too?”

“You’re safe here, Y/N.” Bo’s words were quiet, praying nobody else heard his true self speaking. “I’ll take care of you. Nobody will ever hurt you again, my sweet little darling.”

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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years

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The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?”

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being.

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.”

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.”

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies.

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.”

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you.

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study.

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced.

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left.

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts.

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt.

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out.

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.”

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester.

💘taglist: @pascalpanic, @mellowswriting

#agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #kingsman: the golden circle #study smut #studying smut

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sunlight-moonrise · 3 years

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The Law of Attraction (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader cannot understand how Spencer is in a relationship with someone who is his complete opposite.

A/N: Hello Everyone!!! Here’s another story from the secret-fic-swap in the Discord server. I tried my hand at a new genre and I like how it came out. A big thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins for helping me make this real nice for y’all (this story was also written to her). Enjoy!

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: If you’re a fan of Max or Maxcer, this may not be the story for you. Sacrifices needed to be made for this story to be told.

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The thought that the concept of ‘opposites attract’ was only true when it comes to physics. After all, the comparison of people to magnets doesn’t make any sense. If two people are together, there should be some similarities to build an established relationship, right? Without that foundation, the structure will surely crumble back into the fragmented pieces that created it, leaving them cracked and weaker for it.

Compatibility is necessary, yet there is none whenever I look at them. This is the fourth function that he has brought her to, and with each event, I find it harder to look their way. But when I do find them among the crowd, I can’t look away. Like a car crash or thunderstorm ripping tree roots from the ground.

It doesn’t make sense to me, why on earth would Spencer Reid be with a girl like her.

“If you keep staring at her, she might drop dead,” said a sarcastic voice, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see Tara with an amused smile occupying her face.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumbled, focusing my attention on the drink in my hand.

“What’s not to get?” she asked, glancing over at the couple in question. “They seem cute together.”

“They have nothing in common. He might as well be talking to some random person in this bar.”

I chugged the remainder of my beverage with desperate hope that the alcohol will somehow make things better in this situation. It didn’t.

“You sound bitter.”

“I am not bitter,” I bit back.

“I didn’t say you were, I said you sound.”

I didn’t respond to her because deep down I knew she was right. I just fiddled with the straw in my now empty glass as Tara continued, “Look, they both like coffee and going to the park, that’s something.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat at the thought.

“So do half the people on the administration floor, he might as well have a harem if those are the main qualifications.”

“So what type of person should Spencer Reid have?” she asked, an eyebrow arching up as she focused her attention on me.

“I don’t know. Someone who is family-oriented and loves kids. Someone who doesn’t judge him for his idiosyncrasies. Someone who listens to his rambles and actually responds to them. Someone who he can escape to when things get too tough. Someone who understands when to give him space but will continue to support him unconditionally. Someone who can challenge him and make each day exciting and interesting. Someone who can ke—”

“Whoa there, I didn’t think you were going to give me a whole novel.” If she thought that was a novel, then the rest of what I wanted to say would be considered an encyclopedia. The only one that Spencer would never read.

“I just want him to be happy,” I relented.

It was the simple truth. Everyone deserves some sort of contentment in their life, but with everything that Spencer has gone through in the past, his happiness should be at the forefront. He always put others before himself. It was time that someone prioritizes his wants and needs for a change.

“And she doesn’t make him happy?”

Not in the slightest.

But I didn’t want to say that. I was sure half of the team already thought, or knew, that I was infatuated with him. But I didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of a confirmation by talking about this any further. The looks that Tara had been giving me the past few minutes validated my belief that I didn’t need to dig myself into a deeper hole.

“Maybe,” I said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

But just then, I heard a laugh despite how noisy the place was. I knew without a doubt that was Spencer’s laugh – it was the only sound that would demand my attention that quickly. It was the one he used when he felt uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Tara.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply before I hopped off the barstool and made my way to where Spencer and his girl were as casually as possible. Jennifer and Penelope were also with them, and it seems as if the three ladies were doing most of the talking.

“….like kids someday?” I heard Pen say. I didn’t need to hear the beginning of the sentence to know what it was about.

“Ehh, certainly not. My nephew is a handful as is, I don’t think I need any more than that one in my life,” she laughed. She, of course, being the ever loving, ever annoying, Max. A quick glance at Spencer's face confirmed that he was bothered by the subject being discussed. If the rest of the ladies were a bit more sober, they’d probably have seen it too.

“Hey guys,” I interrupted, taking my previous seat next to JJ, “I ordered some water for us and some appetizers. Tara is going to bring it over when it is ready.”

Cheers and thank you were shouted across the small table, but there was only one face I cared to pay attention to. Spencer’s mouth was quirked in a sad smile that was meant to hide the discomfort that had already taken root in his heart like an invasive vine.

“Did you place my fries order?” Max asked, garnering my attention. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t openly be a bitch to her, no matter how much she irked me. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than stealing the affections of a man I’d never actually pursued, that is. But I couldn’t really blame her for that one, right? I should’ve jumped on the opportunity before. It was my fault.

“Yup,” I answered quickly with a small fake smile before focusing on the wooden décor of the bar.

“So any plans for Halloween? Assuming we don’t get called in for a case of course,” JJ asked the table.

“There is this pop-up haunted house coming that weekend.” Spencer said, his voice laced with that childlike excitement that made my heart race, “It is near the annual fair, so I’m going to try and do both.”

“Awww, that’s a cute date idea.”

The table was silent for a moment before Max announced, “I probably won’t go. I am not a big fan of anything spooky or… horror. I’ll leave all of that to this guy.”

The table shared an awkward laugh in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Anyway,” I coughed out, attempting to save this poor conversation, “you guys need to hear this terrible joke the bartender told me. So basically, this screwdriver walks into a bar….” and just like that, the topic had been changed.

Tara joined us shortly after and the conversation remained lighthearted for the remainder of the evening. We later said our farewells and readied ourselves to go back home. While I should’ve been sad to leave him, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter joy from the fact that Spencer and Max didn’t talk directly to each other for the rest of the night.

●●●

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last team outing. Rossi must’ve missed us, because he decided to host a dinner at his place to celebrate the ending of a long and tough case. No one was going to pass up the opportunity of free food and wine, especially after dealing with a bunch of cops and detectives with entire tree trunks up their asses.

I was the last to arrive, which was not surprising since I live the furthest away from Rossi. Krystall welcomed and settled me in while informing me where everyone was. What I assumed was a team gathering turned out to be a whole party. There were definitely more than two dozen people occupying the space.

Good god.

“What’s all this?” I asked as I greeted Rossi in the, thankfully, empty kitchen. Because, of course, Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he didn’t take care of all the hors d'oeuvres himself.

“Krystall wanted to celebrate our anniversary,” he sighed, as if this ordeal was somehow troublesome. I had to roll my eyes; he wasn’t fooling anyone. We all knew that Rossi would move mountains for his wife.

Their love was pure and genuine, a perfect example of two people meeting again at the right time and sharing something wonderful with one another. As I reminisced on their beautiful wedding day, a thought came to my head.

“Isn’t your first anniversary coming up in a few months?”

“That’s for our second marriage, this is for the first.” Rossi simply stated with a proud smirk, as if it was standard to celebrate any and all anniversaries in life. I supposed that for him, it was.

“Why do I get the feeling that this was more your idea than Krystall’s?”

“Guilty.”

Classic. Well, I wasn’t going to tell a man what he should celebrate nor how to do so. I wasn’t going to ruin any opportunities to eat some fresh crostini.

Once I made my way back out into the main room, I was able to find my team within seconds. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer’s tall and lanky form. And I would’ve been excited for that, if it weren’t for the familiar woman standing beside him.

Max was there. Hooray.

Usually, I was able to properly prepare myself for seeing her. It actually, unfortunately, took a lot of effort to not be openly hostile to someone I dislike. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true. Typically in a situation like this, I’d avoid the person all night. However, I wasn’t going to allow her presence to influence the night, much less stop me from spending time with one of my closest friends.

“Hey guys.”

“Ahh, you’re finally here,” squealed Penelope, “I already grabbed your favorite drink!” She stepped aside to make room for me in the small gathered circle before handing me the glass.

“So what did I miss?”

They all caught me up on the harmless gossip circulating around the office and the new happenings emerging in everyone’s lives. Everything was going well until I heard the next words from Max, words that felt like a bucket of ice water and lead being poured over my head.

“Well, Spencer and I are moving in together.”

Time slowed down, I was sure it had. Because I was able to gauge everything in a matter of seconds. Tara’s concerning glance my way, her hand reaching out and retreating as if to hold me. Penelope’s joyful appearance over the news, her arms rising quickly causing her wine to slightly spill on Rossi’s floor. Matt expressing congratulations as he roughly patted Spencer on the back.

And Spencer….

Spencer looked like he rather be anywhere but here. His lips were drawn in a too tight smile that I knew was far from authentic. He was tapping his heel against the floor and wringing his hands together.

If this was merry news from the two of them, why did he look like he swallowed a spiked fruit?

The loud clanging of metal against glass brought everyone’s attention to the noisy source. Time returned back to its normal pace at Rossi’s call, thanking everyone for joining in on the celebration and announcing that the food was ready in the dining room.

While everyone cheered and made their way towards the ornate display, I headed to the balcony. It was too hot, too stuffy, too loud inside the house. There was one too many people there.

As soon as I passed through the double doors, I took a deep breath of cool, refreshing air. Everything around me felt muffled. Like I had stumbled into a small pocket universe that only differed from ours by a few notches on the volume knob.

I was thinking too many things, and none of them adding up or making sense in my head. How do you move in with someone you’ve only known for such a short amount of time? What was he going to do with his apartment? With his personal belongings that were scattered and settled on crowded shelves? Why did he look so uncomfortable when she announced it? Did he not want us to know? Did he want to say it himself?

“What are you doing out here?”

As if being brought back to reality by the very same hypnotist who enchanted me in the first place, I became aware that I was not the only one on the balcony. I turned to look at Spencer, taking in his disheveled and tired appearance.

“I just needed some space. I was feeling a bit crowded.” It wasn’t a lie, but my companion and I both knew there was a lot more than just that. Trying to keep the attention off me, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I saw you come out here dressed like that and wondered what would drag you out into the freezing cold.”

Now that he mentioned it, the breeze was hitting hard. I didn’t notice my body trembling until now. It is funny how you can’t feel much when lost in your own thoughts. The pain was a welcome distraction, I supposed.

Spencer stood next to me and shrugged off the suit jacket he was wearing. I opened my mouth to refuse, but he gave me a pointed look before I could. Instead, I accepted the warm jacket over my body. The scent of cinnamon and spice immediately enveloped my form and I tried to hide the way my inhales grew deeper. Trying to keep him as close as I could for however long he would allow. He kept his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down the sleeves of the jacket to instill some heat in me.

“So whatever happened to taking it slow?” I asked bluntly, keeping my eyes on the interesting speck of dirt that had ended up on my shoe. I didn’t feel bad about getting to the point -- There was no way I could subtly ask him what the deal was, and I’d rather not beat around the bush.

“Well, after the whole situation that happened, sh— we decided to pick up the pace of things,” he spoke lowly, as if he was unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.

“Has she even met Diana? Or know about her?” I instantly regretted asking, the angry look he shot my way had me feeling remorseful. But it also answered my question.

Max only knew the surface level of Spencer. She wasn’t aware of all the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly layers that comes with a man like him. She wasn’t the only one to blame, but I wondered how a profiler couldn’t tell that he was hiding those parts from her because he didn’t want to share them with her. He didn’t want her to know, because the knowing made it real.

“I just want the best for you.”

His irritated expression dissolved into a defeated one as he released the breath he was holding.

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

He stopped talking, appearing scared to share his opinions and feelings with me before he remembered that, unlike Max, he never had to hide things from me. He didn’t want to.

“It’s just…” I prodded, hoping he would continue with what he was going to say.

But he just stayed stuck there, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. I could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling as he properly tried to explain. “Well, the thing is that Ma—”

“Spencer?”

We sharply turned our heads to see Max and Tara staring at us. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered our position. With Spencer’s hands rubbing tenderness heat onto my arms, his jacket over my shoulders and our bodies pressed together to keep warm.

It would be one thing if everything was settled, but this situation was anything but. Max had every reason to be angry. This wasn’t a new thing to her. So when she turned around, she stomped away fueled by the belief that she’d nearly caught her boyfriend committing adultery. Again.

“Fuck,” I heard the man in front of me whisper as he released me back into the cold night.

Still, as he left, he looked back at me. His eyes burned into mine up until he tore them away, making his final decision and hastily running from the balcony. Away from me. Towards her.

Tara and I shared the silence, but she looked at me with those inquisitive eyes, as if I was a client seeking out therapy from her.

“What?” I hissed, “We were just talking.” I refused to feel guilty over something that I didn’t do. If anyone had done anything, it was Spencer. But at the same time, I didn’t think he was entirely wrong, either.

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered, holding her hands up high as a sign of surrender.

“You didn’t have to, I can feel the judgment from here.”

“Look, I’m not judging you. But I do want you to put yourself in Max’s shoes. You guys were gone for a while and she finds you two all over each other.”

“What are you talking about, Tara? Christ, it’s not like I was fucking him on the balcony!”

Although I didn’t intend for my words to be humorous, Tara laughed. I was conflicted on whether it was at me or with me, but it ended up amounting to nothing, anyway.

“Look, the night is young and you need to relax. Come back inside, enjoy the party, and don’t let them bring you down. At least for the next few hours.”

She was right, as she usually was. It was why I usually sought her out as the voice of reason; I knew that despite everything, she would always have my best interest at heart.

“Okay,” I agreed before following her back into the chaotic fray.

I heeded her advice and avoided the couple for the remainder of the night. Shockingly, it was pretty easy, but I was sure it was because they were avoiding me too. There were times, lots of times, where Spencer and I made eye contact, but we’d just as quickly look away, as if we were ashamed of what we have done.

All we did was talk. So why did it feel like something more?

There were also times when I made eye contact with Max, but instead of shame, there was anger and contempt. If looks could kill, like Tara had suggested, I was sure my heart would have given out.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I saw Max take a cab home while Spencer was still inside the house. No one else but me noticed that they didn’t leave the party together.

●●●

I hadn’t seen Spencer since the incident at Rossi’s a few weeks ago. He had to take his mandatory sabbatical leave and I had to take an abrupt trip back home. What used to be almost daily texts between us became nonexistent in a matter of hours. It was a terrible predicament that I was hoping to fix soon.

As I arrived, I spotted him at his desk. For a long time, I stood there staring at him. If he wasn’t nose deep in a bunch of files, I was sure he would’ve seen me, too. I contemplated on how I should go up to him, but nothing I could think of was good enough to say.

Hey, I have your jacket, I took it to the dry cleaner’s, so it is all clean. Rid of me like you wanted to be.

Hi, how were the lectures this time around? Still have a bunch of teens crushing on you?

What’s up, it’s been a while, do you want to get lunch during the break?

I hated that things were awkward, even though I was pretty sure that I was the only one that was making it so. I should have just gone up to him, greeted him, and acted like everything was normal, because everything was normal. Right?

Just when I was about to do so, Emily called us in for a meeting. Impeccable timing.

We had a serial killer case in Louisville, Kentucky. My situation with Spencer was going to the backburner.

During our stay in Louisville, Spencer and I barely interacted. We exchanged notes and passed long messages, but that’s pretty much it. I wasn’t surprised. Our specialties don’t really correlate when we are working on a case. Anytime I did catch some free time, I’d look his way, longing for the opportunity to speak to him. He didn’t look back.

Then, just as the case ended, another chance presented itself. After five days of hardly any proper rest, we finally found the unsub. Everyone was in their respective room catching up on some much needed sleep. Except for Spencer, whose gangly body was tucked away at the bar by himself, a glass of what appeared to be soda in front of him.

Silently, I took the seat next to him, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet. But unlike the usual, comfortable quiet, it was torturous.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I stared at him, letting the silent communication denote the fact that I knew he was lying to me. Spencer released a sigh and looked at me with eyes more intoxicating than any whiskey that shared their color.

“Actually, no, I’m not okay.”

I was going to ask him what was wrong or if there was anything I could do to help, but before I had the chance to do so, he hastily answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Max and I broke up.”

I stared at him, my face and mind blank as I tried to comprehend what he’d said. That Max and Spencer broke up. They were no longer together. Spencer was single.

I thought that if this ever happened, I would be happy, elated, jumping at the chance to take her place by his side. But I felt none of those things.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to appear nosy or meddlesome, but I needed to know.

“We were fighting a lot, and I couldn’t take it.”

“Oh.”

“We were… actually fighting about you.”

I sharply turned my head at him, both intrigued and disturbed by the implication that I had anything to do with the failure of their relationship.

“What? What about me?”

“She thought I liked you,” he said while staring straight back at me, daring me to scan through each fleck of gold and green to ensure that he was telling the truth. But his hazel eyes expressed nothing but honesty as he continued, “and she was right. I do.”

“Y-you do?”

All he could do was nod his head, lifting his hand and catching a loose strand of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“Can I try something?” Spencer shyly requested.

Once again, the universe felt different. I held my breath, trying to wake from the dream. Although he didn’t say it, I had an idea of what he wanted. If the hand on the side of my face and the staring at my lips were anything to go by, I knew what was going to happen next.

I nodded back and closed my eyes. A few seconds passed, the sweetest kind of anticipation. But then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against my own, sweet and tender. He moved his head to get a better angle while I brought my hands up to cup his face. The roughness of his stubble against the tip of my fingers was a perfect contrast to the softness of him. I could taste the soda he was drinking on his tongue and breathed in the cinnamon scent that seemed sunken into his skin.

When we pulled away, it was full of hesitation. All it took was one look for us to know we couldn’t do this. Not now, not yet. He was still healing from the recent break up and I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t want us to resent one another for jumping into a relationship so soon. We weren’t ready.

We sat there in relative silence, taking in everything that has happened.

“Maybe one day,” he paused “one day we can give it a chance.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” I beamed at him, “And I look forward to that day. Until then, we remain as friends.”

He returned my smile and I realized that it had been a while since I’ve seen his real smile. I missed it so much.

“Friends,” he confirmed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief and comfort. Because I knew everything was going to be okay. I had hope that someday Spencer will get the happily ever after he deserves and he’ll get it with me by his side. One day.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #reader insert #hurt/comfort #secret fic swap

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bffsoobin · 3 years

Text

This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow.

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile.

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you.

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner.

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest.

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you.

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage.

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door.

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own.

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch.

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were?

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow.

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question.

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger.

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated.

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away.

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest.

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance.

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you.

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh.

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle.

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely.

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back.

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.”

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep.

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class.

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake.

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another.

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger.

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in.

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said.

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying.

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television.

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion.

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”.

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it.

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay.

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-”

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.”

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.”

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka.

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut.

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect.

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours.

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway.

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s.

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with.

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to.

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall. “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic.

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get.

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them.

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet.

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.”

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better.

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you.

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side.

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument.

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair.

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms.

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top.

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun.

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts, and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow.

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears.

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you.

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin.

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night.

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone.

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you.

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it.

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice.

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.”

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.”

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.”

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you.

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins.

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come.

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt.

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down.

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it.

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.

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adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

READING MY BOYFRIEND’S FANFICTION?? - Owen Joyner x Influencer!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: OMGGG!! Could you do a an Owen fic based around his girlfriend being an armature youtuber/social media influencer (shes also an actress and they met on set and have been dating for a while) and it’s “reading/reacting to my boyfriend’s fanfiction” ? You can do whatever you want with the fanfic part it’s just a concept that has been running around in my head for a while. LOVE ALL YOUR WORK!!

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, very mild

Words: 1460

A/N: A fic?? From Ace?? Hi. I’m off spring break officially and so my stress has dissipated immensely. School was becoming so much these last two weeks and I thought I’d be stressed or worried, but I’m actually fine? It’s weird lol so I decided I could be productive with my stress-free moment and post a little fic for y’all. I love this prompt, and before any of you writers panic, I’m using my own fics for the fanfictions because I wouldn’t want to put y’all on the spot like that. Also this is my 3000 post! thought that was cool lol

“Do you wanna do the intro?”

“I think I have to do the intro.”

“Okay, go for it.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out a heavy breath in exaggerated preparation for my (some would say lengthy) intro. “Hello, hi. Yes, okay, this is Y/n Y/l/n vlogs, welcome or welcome back to my channel!” Once Owen finishes his statement I’m so stunned I can’t generate any sort of response other than a slacked jaw semi smile.

“That was not even close. Do you know my intro?”

“I got the first part right!”

“You’ve lost intro privileges,” I turn back to the mess of lights and tripods in front of me and ignore the disaster of an intro Owen offered. “Oh, hello, hi! I am Y/n and this is: Reading My Boyfriend��s Fanfiction!”

“That’s basically what I did.”

“No, it is not! It’s ‘oh, hello, hi. I am ‘name’ and this is: ‘title of video’.”

“You don’t ‘welcome to my channel’?” Owen’s voice has dropped to a hushed volume as he genuinely inquires about the segments of my usual introduction.

“I do not.”

“Don’t use any of this,” he pleads when making direct eye contact with the camera. “Mister Sid. Editing Sid, please don’t embarrass me.” His pleas fall on deaf ears, knowing that I’ll be using the footage in full.

“Anyways. Butchered intro aside, I am Y/n and today I am here with my lovely “So Many Stars” costar and scene partner, Owen Joyner!”

“I’m also your boyfriend.”

“That too,” I give Owen’s pointed comment a soft place to land, “So, yesterday--it was actually like, two weeks ago, I don’t know why I said yesterday--a little while back, I came across a tweet telling me someone had written a fanfic about us-”

“Did you read it?”

“On Wattpad. Of course, I read it. There are only three chapters up right now and they’re all in the 2-3k range so it was a quick read.”

“2-3k?”

“Words,” I reply nonchalantly as I unlock my phone. I bookmarked a few one-shots beforehand for us to read, and I’m slightly cocky about my selections. Owen then responds with an outburst of shock.

“2-3 thousand words is a short read?” I merely give him a blank stare.

“Judging by that reaction, Owen hasn’t read any fanfics in his life.”

“Is that not long to you- That’s what she said.” Owen cuts me off with his own stupid joke and I briefly sigh before answering.

“No, that isn’t long. Baby, I’m here for that 130k slow burn enemies to lovers on AO3 with the ‘only one bed’ and ‘locked in a closet’ tropes.”

“The what?”

“Oh, we have so much to catch you up on.”

__________________________

“So I saved three fics, an angst, a fluff, and a smut. Which do you want to read?”

“Wait, what does that mean?”

“Oh my- okay. Angst is the sad shit, it’s what you read when you need your heartbroken and a good cry. Smut is pretty much in the name, it’s explicit content that will undoubtedly get this video demonetized, but that’s okay because we do have a sponsor. And fluff is the cute moments, domestic and sometimes mundane romance that makes you smile like an idiot and put the device down to screech into a pillow.” Throughout my whole explanation, I can tell Owen was becoming more and more lost, so I opt to give him a few moments to collect his thoughts.

“Let’s start with the fluff just to ease into things.”

“Smart choice. This fic I have saved is called ‘Baby Fever’ and the summary says ‘you and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own’.”

“That sounds so ominous.”

“Here, I’ll read the narration and reader’s POV, and then you’ll read your own dialogue.” Owen nods and leans over my right shoulder to read off of my computer screen.

“You actually start the fic.”

“‘You ready, little one?’” The instantaneous actor mode Owen slips into has me howling with laughter at which he looks at me confused. My gasping for air makes Owen laugh empathetically despite still being unsure as to what’s killing me at the moment.

“Why are you laughing?!” He yells, dramatically shaking my shoulder.

“Just the way you jumped into that, I wasn’t prepared for you to turn on the acting charm. Okay, uhhhh, ‘I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat’.”

The two of us go back and forth between reading the narrative, bouts of laughter, commentary on the accuracy of Owen’s character, and we finally manage to finish the 2.5k fic in about forty minutes.

“‘When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple-’.”

“‘I told you so.’”

“That was cute! I like the tie-in of having us watching over Baby Shada- or, sorry, you and ‘y/n’ watching over Baby Shada.”

“They wrote me kinda funny, I don’t think I’d ever fabricate a life to make conversation with a stranger due to baby fever.” My jaw drops slightly and before Owen can respond to my reaction, I cry,

“That is such a lie!”

“What?”

“You absolutely would do something like that, are you kidding me?!”

“No, I would not!” Owen punctuates every word with the utmost offense. He has the same look in his eye as when he was proving himself to be the cleanest phantom of the three on the Sunset Drive podcast.

“You literally told the guy at Home Depot yesterday that we were buying plants for our child’s nursery!”

“Okay, that’s different-”

“How is that different? That’s the exact same thing as fanfic you!” Owen’s furrowed brow and dropped jaw are a sight to be seen as he leans away from me, bending at the waist to stare at me with defiance. I raise my eyebrows pointedly as I await a response. Instead of actually producing a response, Owen lunges forward, grabbing my waist in his hands and squeezing gently. The feeling makes me screech and gasp of laughter from surprise and also being ticklish.

“Owen! Owe-STOP, I’m gonna drop my laptop!” I manage to say through my laughter and with one final grab, he releases me from his hold. It takes a minute for my laughter to settle but once I do, the two of us are simply breathing heavy and staring at one another with giddy smiles on our faces. In a moment’s clarity, I turn to look into the camera lens to talk directly to my editor,

“Sid, don’t use any of this. And please don’t cut to this after we finish reading to make it look like- things were happening.”

“Actually, I think you should, Sid. Just cut to right there and make the world think we-”

“OKAY, thanks for watching, bye!” I quickly stop the recording before Owen says something we’re unable to recover from. I hear him laugh gently behind me as I set my laptop down on the coffee table behind the tripod. Coming back to the couch, I move to plop down but before landing successfully on the cushion next to my phone, Owen grabs my body and moves me to sit on top of him.

“You are crazy, you know that?”

“Hmm. Crazy for you, maybe.” His cheesy line makes me scoff but smile nonetheless. I reach my right hand up to caress the side of his face as we sit cheek to cheek.

“Remind me to never film with you again.” The gesture is sweet and the sentiment is not which makes Owen laugh and he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. I lean back into him so my back is pressed flush with his chest as he lazily wraps both arms around me.

“You say that now but you’ll regret it when you wanna do a ‘boyfriend does my makeup’ challenge video.”

“Nah. I’ll just call Charlie to-” Without allowing me to finish my sentence, Owen is digging his fingertips back into the tissue of my sides and I squeal with laughter once more. This time the torment is short-lived and Owen releases me after a sweet, reconciling kiss. “Do you have baby fever now?”

“It was cute and all, but not really, no.”

“That’s too bad,” I stand up from my spot on his lap to grab my computer and hold it to my chest, “I was gonna say we could practice some baby-making.”

And with that, I turned on the balls of my feet, heading for my bedroom when I heard Owen stand up eagerly, quick to follow.

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell@n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki@vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul

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overly-b · 4 years

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Say It Again - JJ Maybank

In which JJ questions if he is deserving of you and your love.

Warnings: swearing, sad JJ, fluff, awful editing don’t come for me

Word Count: 3.5k(whoops)

Author's note: this is my first time writing in so long, be gentle with me friends. I know that a lot of people have done similar prompts of JJ feeling undeserving of love and the reader helps him through it, so this is a little bit unoriginal but, this is my take on it.

Bold italics is a flash back.

Thank you to @maybe-maybanks to the late night inspiration!

not my gif

As you, Kie and Pope approached the yard of the chateau, it became undeniably clear that JJ had gone off the rails with extravagant spending since you had seen him last.

“What did you do JJ?” Pope questions the boy sitting in the hot tub. Looking at you through his sunglasses, he smirks.

“I got a jet going straight in my butt right now” He ignores Pope. “Y’all, should get in here immediately, you hear me?” His sentence slurs slightly. “Salud!” He toasts his plastic champagne flute in the air, but opts to take a swig from the bottle in his other hand.

JJ scans the faces of his three friends, eyes lingering at yours a moment longer than Kie and Popes.

You see, just days ago, after getting arrested, then beaten by his father, JJ found you, and poured his heart out, to find that you shared his feelings, and the two of you started seeing each other in secret.

Being that it was a secret, the two of you had yet to put any kind of label on it, but you loved that blonde boy to the ends of the earth, despite what had happened earlier that day.

“You know what, that's exactly what I’m gonna do. Go off, by myself.”

You watched as JJ began walking away. Pope attempted to stop him, but Sarah and John B had halted his efforts. You stood silently fuming at the actions of the boy you had such strong feelings for. How could he be doing something like this? This wasn’t the JJ you knew, had been friends with for years, and were now in love with. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you had loved him for years prior.

“JJ!” You seethed, shaking off John B’s attempts to hold you back from running after him. He was already a good distance away from the group, he probably couldn’t even hear you yelling, so you started speed walking. It soon became apparent that he was simply ignoring you.

“JJ!” You were merely twenty feet from him, screaming at his back. “JJ stop!” His strides continued.

“You were real quiet back there princess, finally decide to comment?” You stepped in front of him, shoving his shoulders to force his walk to a stop. “What the fuck Y/N!”

“What the fuck me? What the fuck you! What has gotten into you right now JJ what are you doing?”

“Nothing has gotten into me Y/N I’m simply paying back what I owe.” He states, trying to walk past you.

“By stealing the money from the drug dealer that just jumped us?” Your brows raise as you interrogate him.

“He jumped us, he has this coming.” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, succeeding in getting past you, as you stand shocked by his words.

“JJ you and I both know that you’re not that goddamned stupid.” His steps slow, he stands still. “Stealing money from a drug dealer? JJ I know that you owe money because of Pope but this isn’t right! You’re better than this-”

“Am I?” He turns on his heels to face you again, this time squaring his shoulders to be purposeful in standing tall over you. Him standing over you made you feel small in comparison to the raging blond. “Am I better than this?” He repeats his question.

“JJ what are you-”

“Because I’m starting to think that you, and your high standards, and your perfect life, only think that I am better than this because you want me to be better than this.”

You knew what he was referring to. You were by no means a kook, but your family was financially stable enough to afford a nice house, you had your own car, and if you wanted, you could afford to go to college on the mainland. Your life was unlike most lives on the cut, but JJ knew that your life was far from perfect.

“What the hell-”

“And that if we’re gonna be together, you need me to be better than this so that I can fit in with your life.” You had no idea what he meant. Your life was on the cut, with the Pouges, with him, and the difference of financial well beings of your familys never changed that before, so why was it now?

“What the fuck JJ stop-”

“Well you know what Y/N! I’m not better than this, this is who I am! I get into fights, I steal, I have a criminal record, when I get hit, I hit back this is who I am!”

“We both know that stealing twenty five thousand dollars from a drug dealer is never going to make anything better.” You attempt to reason with him. “This isn’t hitting back this is loading the gun that's already in your face!”

“Y/N I have to!” He spits. “I know you could never understand being in so much debt but this is my only option.” His words hit you like a punch to the stomach. He looks down to his boots before continuing. “So I’m sorry that I’m not what you pictured as a boyfriend, but this is what I do Y/N. Maybe you trying to fight it means you deserve better than me.”

And just like that, it was clear that he was more mad with himself then he was with you. However, everything that he said was uncalled for, and nasty, and he had no right. You watch as he storms away, even more tense than before, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this affects your newfound relationship. You blink away the water from your eyes, and do your best to compose yourself as you slowly wander back to your friends.

“How much did this cost?” Pope asks. Your head was spinning as he listed all of the things that he had purchased since he left you standing in the woods.

“Uh, well. With the generator, the petrol, and, oh, hey, express delivery,” You knew the answer before he even had time to speak. “Pretty much all of it, yeah.”

“All of it?” Pope exclaims.

“Oh my god” You whisper, mostly to yourself, rubbing your forehead with your palm.

“Yeah all of it.”

“You spent all the money in one day?” “Yeah burned a hole right through my pocket.” He confidently explains. “But, I mean like come on guys, look at this!” The tone in his voice told you that he was holding back, it was alway his biggest tell when he would hold back his feelings. “Finest in jet based massage therapy, that's what they told me.”

The three of you are left speechless.

“Kie what? Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?” JJ still could not bring himself to look you in the eyes for more than a moment. “Come on, all this scrimping’ and scraping’” you notice his voice falter again. “I mean like, guys, we, you only live once. Right?” JJ finally locks eyes with you, and he reacts spastically, your dreaded look having the gravest effect on him.

“Y/N, stop, why are you looking at me like that?” He knew full well, but he was trying too hard not to show it. “I know that you’re mad about earlier okay, but, everything is fine now!” His voice was louder now, concealing the breakdown you knew was coming, sooner or later, here with the three of you or somewhere else. “Enough of this emotional shit. Get in the Cat’s Ass come on.” He smiles, waving you to join him.

“The what?” Kie furrows her brows.

“The Cat’s Ass.” JJ smugly replies, proud of himself. “That's what I named her. Oh hey yo, I almost forgot,” JJ leans forward, pressing a button that makes water spray across the tub, and even more colorful lights flash in front of him. “Huh! Yeah that's right, disco mode, thats right baby!” His eyes scan yours, noticing that they were clouding with tears. He quickly looks away from you, not wanting to see the damage that he had done, and was still doing.

“JJ,” Your voice is low and hushed as you blink back tears.

“Are you kidding me?” Popes harsh voice overpowers yours, cutting off you and your tears. “You could have paid for restitution!”

“Or literally given it to any charity” Kie fumes at the sight before her.

“Guys,” You mutter, wanting them to stop being so hard on the broken boy you secretly called yours. You were mad too, if not more than Pope and Kie due to your argument. However, you could see straight through the smug grins and happy fasad that JJ was trying to project. He was hurting, and you knew it wasn’t just about the fight the two of you shared.

“Or better yet, you could have helped us buy supplies to get the rest of the gold out of the well!”

“Guys!” You spoke up louder this time, only to be cut off by JJ.

“Okay well you know I didn’t do that!” As JJ’s swimsuit clad body surfaces from the hot water, you are confronted with what you knew would be there, and the tears pour from your eyes. “I got a hot tub!” JJ shakes in what appears to be anger, but you know it isn't anger he's reeling from. “For my friends,”

Kie and Pope gape at JJ’s bruised abdomen and instantly connect the dots as to who is responsible.

“I bought a hot tub for my friends.” He repeats. “You know what, no, you know what, screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family.”

“JJ what the hell-” Kie gasps.

“I got this for you! Guys look what I did for you! Alright?” JJ spins and gestures to everything he bought. “Look at this!” When he turns back, he finds that you were no longer holding back the tears your eyes once held.

“Y/N stop being emotional don’t, don’t cry okay? I know that I hurt you before,” His voice fails him as he recalls the words that he said to you. “But I did this for you,” He hangs his head, he knows how bad he fucked up, and it was hitting him all at once that this was not the way that he needed to make things right. This was not the way back to you, and the high of his twenty five thousand dollar spending spree was dissapating at his realisation, and at the sight of you before him.

“I mean, it’s sweet right?” JJ hadn't even realized that as he began talking, you had climbed into the hot tub. He looks into your eyes for a moment as you stand before him, and lets out a sob as you gently wrap your arms around him. His forehead falls to your shoulder, and all of his pent up energy released in the form of tears and heaves.

“I’m sorry. Baby I’m so sorry.” He whimpers to you, only for you to shush him tenderly. Kie and Pope share a confused glance at the nickname. “I couldn’t do it.” You rub his hair and hold him close as he convulses. “I can’t take it anymore!” JJ wails, your tears land on his shoulders, and his tears land on yours. “I was gonna kill him!”

Kie is next to join you, jumping into the steaming water and embracing the both of you. Pope follows.

“I just want to do the right thing.”

“Shh, JJ, I know. I know” You coo him, trying to calm his weeping.

After minutes of holding him, Kie announces that she has to head home, and Pope offers to drive her. JJ rests in a nearly catatonic state in your arms, no doubt exhausted and knowing JJ, not ready to face the fact that he just broke down in front of his friends.

The pair leaves bidding reassuring words to JJ, and a few more hugs.

You are left in the hot tub, holding the blond boy as he clutches onto you. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his breaths were rapid and heavy as he was shaken, the events of the day had caught up to him in the form of you and your tears. He begins to spew soft “I’m sorry”s and other apologises, but his panic makes him stutter and his sentences start to lack direction.

You shush him and direct the boy to listen to your heartbeat, trying your best to bring his shattered thoughts back to earth.

“JJ, we should get out of the hottub.” You tell him, to which he simply sniffles and nods, unsure of how to speak to you after the horrible things he said to you, and his inability to form a proper apology. He knew that you were nothing like he had depicted, yet he said what he said, and there was no taking it back.

His skin was red from the overheated water, and it itched with chlorine, so as the two of you entered the chateau, you started the shower.

“You should rinse off the chlorine.” You told him, not sure of how to speak to him either. He followed your order and stripped of his bathing suit. You were able to track down clothes for him to sleep in, and as you waltzed back into the bathroom, you decided you couldn’t leave him alone in the shower.

Taking off your soaked clothes quickly, you slip into the shower to find JJ standing still under the water. You snake your arms around his torso, careful of the bruises pressing your chest to his back. His hands find yours he holds them tight. You place a kiss on his spine, then rest your head where your lips touched.

“I’m so sorry” He croaked, his voice was tired, worn out from the day.

“JJ-”

“No stop Y/N” He turns around to face you, grabbing your face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I should have never said any of those things about you, none of them were true, it's just that, its,” He stumbles on his words. You rub his back to ground him again, he takes a deep breath. “It's just that you do deserve better than me.”

“JJ please-” He doesn’t let you continue.

“No you do, Y/N you do. You deserve so much better than me, than this life, than what I can give you. You don’t deserve some, broken kid that's never getting off the cut, you don’t deserve, to, have to watch as I steal money from drug dealers, you don’t deserve any of the shit that I know that I put you through you just, you deserve better, better than someone who doesn’t come close to deserving you.”

The tears streaming down both of your faces mix with the water coming from the shower and you have no idea how to make his saddening speech stop.

“JJ” You sob, he pauses. “You deserve so much more, than what your life has given you. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to be loved JJ, you deserve everything that you want, why can’t you see that?”

And instantly you feel stupid for asking. JJ’s eyes wander and find the bruises littering his body, answering your question. You stifle another sob as your eyes graze his battered skin.

“Listen to me.” You demand his attention. “You are not worthless.” His eyes divert from yours as he realises what you’re referring to. “JJ look at me,” After a moment or two, his gaze wearily finds yours. “You are not worthless, you are worthy of love, and affection, and someone who takes care of you, and not only are you worthy but you deserve it too. Do you hear me?”

JJ swallows thickly, nodding in acceptance of your beautiful words. He embraces you tightly, having no words of his own. No one had ever made him feel like this. No one had ever made him feel worthy of the good that was before him.

He was hesitant to think that he deserved you. To him, no one was good enough to actually deserve you, especially not him. However your speech made him open to the idea that maybe he was at least worthy of your love.

Your love.

You both realised in the same moment that the word was shared between you. You had never shared the faithful declaration of love to each other since you had been together romantically, and yet now you had mentioned love twice in the span of thirty seconds. JJ smiled as he held you. You loved him, and this was one of the ways that you showed it.

“Let's get the chlorine out of your hair J.”

He let you massage his scalp with the shampoo that he's seen you use before to get pool chemicals out of your hair. He didn’t really know what it did or how it was different from other shampoos but, it smelled like you and he loved getting his head rubbed. His breathing was still shaky, but he finally felt some of his anxiety from the day wearing off. Fighting with you was something he never wanted to do again. Fighting with his dad was something he knew he would have to do the next time he went home. He elected to ignore those thoughts, as your fingers worked magic on his hair, seemingly drawing all of the negative ideas out of his head along with the chlorine.

As JJ rinsed his hair of soap, he noticed you reaching for the bottle again, no doubt to wash your own hair. He holds out his hand, wordlessly asking if he could wash your hair for you, like you had done for him. This makes you grin as you hand him the bottle. JJ then realises that he doesn’t really know how to do what you did for him. That kind of small, soft, intimate touching was foreign to him.

He squeezes way too much shampoo into his hand, but you pay that no mind. He starts slow, trying to remember the way your fingers moved on his scalp, but in the end knowing that he just wasn’t good at giving head massages.

“I used way too much.” He states, watching as suds continue to produce from your locks.

“It’s okay.” You hum watching the bubbles disappear down the drain. “I set out clothes for you when you’re ready, I’m probably gonna be another minute” You tell him, referring to the other bottles you had in the shower that you still had to use.

“Okay, thank you” He kisses you as he exits the shower. You finish up quickly, wanting to be next to him, and hoping that his thoughts as he sits alone don’t carry him away like they had before.

You find that he left his tee shirt for you, like he had on nights before. You wear the shirt that smelled of him along with a pair of comfortable running shorts and head to the spare bedroom of the chateau that JJ called his most nights.

You spot JJ sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You slowly and carefully climb onto his lap, straddling him and holding his head close to your chest. You notice anxiety still radiating off of him.

“Hey,” You start softly. “It’s okay, everythings okay-”

“I love you” He states bluntly as he picks up his head from your chest.

“What?” You stumble, surprised at his outburst.

“I love you, and I want to be with you, like, publically, or whatever. I wanna tell the Pouges and-” before he starts rambling, you stop him.

“I love you too JJ.” This pauses him.

“Say it again.”

You giggle, but inhale, knowing that he needs to hear it.

“JJ.” You start. “I love you.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, eyes watering for the millionth time.

“I still don’t think that I deserve this.” He admits, looking into your eyes with his crystal clear blue ones.

“You do.” You push his hair back from his face. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you do.”

He was hesitant to accept everything that you had said to him that day, but he never doubted that you would give him your all. This was all he needed to know before he allowed himself fully over to you, kissing you with more desperation and love than ever before.

“I love you so much.” You muttered into his lips, and from that day on, you would say it again and again, as many times as he needed to hear it. A constant reminder to him that he was deserving and worthy of good, of love, and of you.

Taglist: @maybe-maybanks @myrandom-fandomlife

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #jj #maybank #jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #jj fanfiction #obx #obx imagine #obx netflix #obx jj #jj maybank x reader #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow fanfiction #rudy pankow fic

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coconutstars · 3 years

Text

Walking Away Part III

Part I part II

Pairing: Stiles + reader Summary: After having ignored all his calls, reader finally decides to hear Stiles out. The inspiration for this fic came from Wilson1128

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS Y’ALL AND THANK YOU FOR THE WONDERFUL RESPONSE! I’m literally a living crying emoji right now <3. I’ve finally finished part 3. This part was supposed to involve smut but I’ve decided to post that separately incase there’s anybody out there that, you know, wants to end this story here. A little angsty, a little fluffy. Each to their own, am I right? So, to clarify, THE SMUTTY MAKE-UP SCENE WILL BE IN A SEPARATE NSFW PART.4. That is, if y’all are even interested in that?? Let me know.

_____________________________________________________

There was no escape. You needed your books and there was no way that was going to happen without Stiles seeing you. Partly because the hallway was practically empty but mainly because he was leaned up against your locker, head ducked down, anxiously clenching and unclenching his fists. You hadn’t properly looked at him since the night you walked away from him. You’d avoid his gaze in the hallway, advert your eyes whenever he walked into a room and looked in any direction but his during your shared classes. But you were looking at him now. Really looking and it struck you how vulnerable he seemed. Almost defeated. A part of you wanted to reach out and comfort him. Pull him close, bury your face in the familiar curve of his neck and whisper that everything was okay.

But everything wasn’t okay. And Stiles wasn’t yours to comfort anymore.

Reluctantly you made your way over to your locker. As soon as he saw you, Stiles straightened up.

“Y/N” He sounded shocked, almost like he was surprised to see you. “What are you doing here?” you asked flatly, folding your arms over your chest. For a moment your eyes met, and a wave of emotions started seeping into your system. Hurt, longing, anger, comfort. You quickly fixed your eyes on a random mark on the wall. “I’ve tried to call you” he said in a low but clear tone. You shifted your bag from one shoulder to the other. “I know” “yeah, course...” his voice trailed off as he started drumming his fingers against his pants. That was usually a sign that he was trying to restrain himself from doing something he may end up regretting.

“Yeah, it’s just...” he began, really trying to hold it in but ultimately failing “when someone calls like… a thousand times, they probably have something important to say, you know?” There was so much frustration, despair and anxiousness in his voice you were genuinely taken aback. “Perhaps.” you said after a moment of silence. “but they might not deserve to be heard out”. Your tone was a lot harsher than you’d intended. Stiles looked wounded but nodded his head, it was a fair shot, and he knew it. “All I’m asking for is a chance Y/N.”

You thought for a moment. He’d tried to contact you so many times through texts, calls and notes you’d lost count. Ignoring him was hard. A part of you really missed him and it hurt like hell every time you had to delete a message or ignore yet another call. Perhaps if you talked to him, he would stop. All contact would end, and you could both move on. It’d be good for you. You’d eventually heal and meet someone new. Someone who could love you as much as you loved them. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. In reality you knew getting over Stiles would be impossible. You’d given him a piece of your heart and it would always be his, regardless if he wanted it or not.

Stiles was waiting for you to reply. You let out a sigh, already convinced you were making a huge mistake. “Fine, come over at eight”

Stiles showed up at 7.54. Although, you had a feeling he’d arrived on your street even earlier. Most likely parked somewhere out of sight, tapping the steering wheel restlessly as he waited for the digits on his watch to change.

He was wearing the dark red flannel he knew you loved, and his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his dark jeans. “Hey” he said simply as you opened the door. You nodded in response and moved over to let him in before leading him up the stairs and into your room. You were standing across from each other, you with folded arms by the window and Stiles with his hands still stuck in his pockets by the door.

“What do you want Stiles?” He took a step forward. “I want to apologize”. His honey-colored eyes were looking right at you, his gaze so intense you had to shift yours. “Okay” you replied shortly with a shrug, you were trying your best to sound unaffected but, on the inside, you were dying. It had just hit you that this could be the last time the two of you spoke to each other. You needed to wrap this up quickly or you’d start bawling your eyes out in front of him and that was not an option. “Anything else? If not, I really have some homework to do” You snapped, feeling the familiar ache in your chest. He took another step closer. “I know you heard about what happened with Lydia at the party and-” You heart rate skyrocketed. There was no way in hell you were about to listen to him talking about hooking up with Lydia. You’d quite frankly rather stuff your ears with gravel and superglue them shut. “Yupp, Awesome. Good for you.” You interrupted, already on your way to usher him out of your room. “I wish you a both lifetime of happiness, thanks for stopping by” you rambled in distress, grabbing ahold of the handle. He placed his hands on your arms and spun you around. “Y/N shut up!” he said loudly in your face.

You silenced in sheer surprise. “Nothing happened between Lydia and me! Nothing!” Like a deflated balloon, you let out a breath and looked up at Stiles, the panic now turning into confusion. “She kissed me and for a moment, yeah, I kissed her back-” You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again just as quickly. You weren’t sure what was happening right now. Your state of emotion had shifted way to quickly for your thoughts and mind to adjust. “-But nothing happened” Your brows knitted in confusion. How could he say nothing happened if he clearly just admitted to kissing her back? You wondered if this was some kind of poorly thought up method to soften the blow of being dumped. “That doesn’t make sense” you said with a headshake. “Stiles, you don’t have to have explain. I get it. You want to be with Lydia.” It really killed you to admit the last part. You couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to get the words out. You’d barely been able to think it, so to actually say it? You had a feeling you’d pay for it later though. You’d probably end up under the covers ugly crying until your head hurt and your skin burned from all the salty tears spilling from your eyes. “Can you please just go now?” your voice was barely a whisper.

Stiles ignored your request and shook his head in frustration. “I don’t want her Y/N. I don’t want Lydia.” This time when you looked up at him your eyes were narrowed in skepticism. What was this? What was he trying to do? “I don’t want Lydia because I want you” he clarified. Your mind still refused to understand what was going on. “No, Stiles. You chose her, you chose Lydia” His face twisted in frustration, his hands gesturing to emphasize his words. “Uh. No. You might not remember this, but you left me. I didn’t choose because there was no choice to make!” He practically yelled the last sentence. “you literally just told me I loved Lydia and broke up with me” You broke out into a laugh that lacked even the slightest trace of humor. Your emotional range now consisted solely of annoyed and angry. “So, you’re honestly going to tell me that you didn’t want to reply to that text?” Stiles practically exploded. “No! I didn’t and if you hadn’t been ignoring me for the past 100 years you would’ve known that” “I’ve been ignoring you” you hissed through clenched teeth. “because you CHOSE LYDIA”

Stiles shook his head in annoyance and turned around as if to talk to an invisible audience. “Nice, awesome. I see we’re really getting somewhere in this conversation” He took a deep breath before turning back to you. “No” he said, his tone and gestures slow and clear as if he were talking to a child. “I do not want Lydia because I want you. I love you Y/N Y/L/N” This time it was your turn to look away. You were literally screaming inside. This was all you’d wanted to hear since the two of you broke up. A part of you wanted to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until your lips hurt. But a part of you was scared. The pain you’d felt lately was something you never ever wanted to feel again. Despite if he’d meant it or not, Stiles had hurt you. He’d hidden the text from you. He kissed Lydia, and even if he insisted it’d meant nothing it still happened. And it could happen again You thought about what he just said. I love you. You knew you loved him without a shadow of a doubt, but did he really feel the same? “Are you so sure about that?” you whispered, your anger being replaced with insecurity.

Stiles closed the distance between you, his gaze practically boring into you. Letting out a breath through your nose, you reluctantly lifted your eyes to meet his. His gaze flickered down to your lips before turning back to your eyes. “yeah, I’d say so” His voice was soft and raspy, like honey spiced scotch. You loved his voice. Always had. But there was something special about this particular tone. It was so smooth it automatically sent a warm tingle down your spine. His brow lifted slightly, his face only inches from yours.

“So, are we done fighting?”

Grabbing a handful of his shirt you pulled him to you, your lips grazing his.

“You tell me Stilinski”

His arms wrapped around your waist, a grin curling his lips before hungrily crashing against yours.

“Hell yeah”

Taglist: @maggiecc @lola-bunny-00 @classyunknownlover

#Stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles imagine #stiles x y/n #stiles x you #stiles x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #imagine stiles

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admiringlove · 3 years

Text

VIII: saudade; you love him too.

— you tell him what it’s like to be in love with his reckless self, and he can’t help but smile.

+pairing: miya atsumu x reader.

+genre: crossover(hq x hp); fluff; angst; frenemies to lovers.

+word count: 2.4k.

+warnings: angst to fluff, because if there isn’t fluff y’all would kill me.

+usual customers(taglist): @babyworld @renee1414 @anotherhydrangea @seita @tobiosnoelle @weebslxt @tsukkiwaifu16 @loveusandoor @kozumebri @sarawrz @crackheadsara @kyuudere @cultsax @supernovaa-a @akaashikeijisan @b3llo-there @sugasloverr @kagebunshiin @tetsurolls @velvetfireworks @kritiiiii @1wai@seijohlogy @sweetrosemilktea @bellesowl @ems1des @akaashi-todorki @tanaka-ryu @irishhbamb @sweetsamus @cherriechurros @mxshimoo @bluebirdandcomrades @zukuroo @denki-core @sarahvvictoria @littlevoxine

+author’s notes: taglist officially closed <3

+navigation: previous, masterlist, next.

Miya Atsumu was a person who tended to overthink a lot—whether it be his own decisions or his words. Mainly, it was his actions.

What he regretted the most, was this. The walk of shame to his own dorm room in the middle of the night, after doing the same thing he used to do for the past few years to take his mind off of you, made his heartstrings clench in repentance. His eyes were glued to his feet when he finally made his way to the Common Room, his throat as dry as sand, and lumps the size of pudding cups forming in his throat. He sighed, mumbling in the password in a morose tone.

He walked in, fixing his black turtle-neck as his eyes landed on you by the fire. Your back faced towards him, as a small smile made its way onto his lips, immediately disintegrating when he realized what he had just done.

He could hear small sobs coming from your direction, a slight tug of his mind wanting to come and comfort you from them. Whatever your problems might be, he wanted to push them all away. He wanted to make whoever, or whatever, caused your pain to be reminded that he was always protecting you.

Most importantly, he wanted to know why your heart was hurting. What made you cry like this?

Your eyes were glistening when you got up from where you were sitting, the invisibility cloak in your hands as you turned around and widened your bloodshot eyes after seeing Atsumu. You brought up a hand to stifle a sob, trying your hardest to not make him hear it, as you almost sprinted towards the stairs towards the girls' dormitory.

"[Y/N], wait—"

He flinched when you slammed the door to your dormitory, sighing too loudly as his gaze downcasted yet again. He shuffles up the stairs to his own room, where he sees Osamu and Suna sitting up and chatting.

"Why the hell are you two still up?" Atsumu groaned, walking to his trunk as he sifted through shirts to wear to bed, then deciding on sleeping without one.

"Oh, we're just casually chitchatting about what a fuckin' knobhead ya are," Osamu grunts, Suna placing a hand on his shoulder, muttering, "Calm down, Moony. Sakusa and Aran'll wake up if you shout."

"For Merlin's sake, 'Samu, I'm not in the mood," Atsumu shrugs his younger twin off, heading to his bed as Suna throws the map at his head.

"Oi, be careful!"

"Where's [Y/N]?" Suna asks, his arms folded across his chest as he leans on the front door, raising an eyebrow at the yellow-haired male in disappointment.

"In her dorm, saw 'er go up when I came in," Atsumu says, completely clueless as to what Suna was hinting towards.

"Swear to fuckin' Salazar," Osamu flops into his bed, pulling the duvet over his head as he murmurs, "Yer so dumb."

"'Samu, shut yer trap for a second," Atsumu brings a hand up to gesture to Osamu to stay quiet, continuing to pay attention to the wolf talking.

"Where's the girl you were snogging?" Suna sighed, ruffling his hair as he sat down on his bed, as Atsumu shrugs to the question—a clear indicator that he does not know.

"Merlin's Beard," Osamu grumbles, earning an annoyed expression from Atsumu who closes his eyes shut in inconvenience. Atsumu raises an eyebrow, not being able to put two-and-two together, as Suna finally says the words Atsumu would probably dread to hear.

"[Y/N] saw you snogging the girl by the Astronomy Tower," Suna says quickly, pulling the duvet over his head finally as Atsumu's eyes widen in shock.

All the mustard-furred fox wants right now is to run to you and apologize a million times—because whatever he has to say right now is probably not enough. Just a few minutes ago, he wanted to make your worries fade away. He wanted to teach whoever made you sad a lesson—but how could he, when the person who hurt you was Atsumu himself?

Osamu turned in his bed when he saw Atsumu sitting there, staring off into space, rather than going to bed. The grey-haired knew that Atsumu probably felt immense guilt, but what could he say? His twin brother had messed up on his own, and now he had to deal with it on his own as well.

And Osamu knew, that in no way possible would it be easy.

You slammed the door to your dorm, muffling your sobs the best you could as you shut your eyes and slid down the door. Hugging your knees to your chest, and when you finally looked up, you saw that all of your roommates were sitting there, looking at you with pity in their eyes.

You hated this. You hated Miya Atsumu. You hated being pitied.

"[Y/N]—" Alisa started but quickly stopping when Kiyoko gave her a certain look. You opened your mouth to say something, but it seemed as if your own body was in denial, not wanting to listen to your mind. You sighed, your eyes bleeding seawater as you bit your lip until a metallic taste filled your senses. You wanted an out—no matter what it was, you just wanted to get out of here. Everything reminded you of him, you just wanted to go back home to the haunting memories instead of staying here.

"Hold on a minute, darling, why are you crying?" Hana says, walking up to you and handing you a glass of water. You push it away, shaking your head as you mutter out incomprehensible words. Hana's features softened, as she helped you get up and into bed, everyone else giving you your space as the oldest in the room bid you a good night with a ruffle of your hair.

As the lights in the dorm finally went off, you tried your best to fall asleep, but couldn't when all your thoughts were swarmed by a certain blonde.

When all the other students walked to breakfast for their normal Saturday morning, you made your way to the Black Lake. You remembered to carry a small loaf of bread, throwing in a few crumbles every few minutes so the fishes underneath your dangling feet eat them. You sighed, your mind racing at a million light-years per second.

Were you not good enough?

Was that it? Why couldn't Atsumu even ask if you felt the same? It was true that your love for him was just beginning to bloom—but if you had realized it sooner then maybe it wouldn't have gotten to such a point where every inch of your being wanted to burst into tears or sulk in a lightless room. If he loved you, then why was it that he was with a girl yesterday? Was she more pretty, or more talented? Was she better in Quidditch, or did she make him laugh?

Did he fall in love with her, forgetting about you in the process?

You heard footsteps behind you, causing a small sigh to escape your cerise lips. You didn't want to look at whoever it was, your mind simply longing to shut yourself out of existence.

"[Y/N]," the all-too-familiar voice says. You closed your eyes, your mind screaming a 'no' loudly and repeatedly, dreading whatever the older Miya twin has to say.

"Leave me the hell alone, Miya," you grumble, tossing in another few breadcrumbs into the sheer water. He winced at the tone and the way you said his last name—the former nickname discarded somewhere he couldn't reach. He closed his eyes, sucking in a breath as he said, "'Samu told me you saw."

"Well, I'd like you to leave me alone. Because whatever stupid apology you have prepared, I don't want to hear it," you rasped, your expression turning into a nasty scowl as the boy was taken aback. Your previous banters in these past years were never as serious as the matter at hand, so he couldn't tell how he was supposed to react according to the cold manner.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbles, "I know you just said you didn't want to hear an apology from me. But honestly, there's nothing else I can say to you except the fact that I don't deserve you."

You scoffed, getting up as you threw in the last bits of bread in your palms, as you finally faced him. His gloved hands in his coat as you huffed, "You didn't even care to ask how I felt, did you?"

"What?"

"You got mad that I 'ignored' you for sometime, so you fucking ignore me back. I'm rude to you for what, a few days to figure out how I feel, and you go ahead and get mad. You're such a petty little shit, Miya," you hissed, gritting your teeth at the last sentence as you continued, "You didn't think once to come and ask me why I ignored you. No, you just went along with it—"

"Hey, I asked!"

"Fine, you asked. But did you understand why I was behaving that way, you knob?" you raised an eyebrow, staring into his eyes as if it's the last banter you get with him, "No. You ignored me after that, which led to this."

"You said you hated me, don't you dare go back on your word, [L/N]," his voice cracks as he takes a step closer to you, grabbing your arm so you don't fall into the water behind you, "You made me think that you hated me, so I backed off. What else was I supposed to do? I didn't expect you to walk into the Shrieking Shack just for me!"

"Because I wanted to tell you that I loved you too! But you were in over your head so you didn't listen!"

"Wait, what?!" Atsumu yelled in surprise, his clutch on you becoming tighter as he continued, "And you didn't think to tell me beforehand?"

"On the first day of school, you lost a certain book. Don't you remember?" you murmur, voice undeniably small as your shy eyes avert their gaze from him. A juxtaposition of anger, fear, and anxiety mixing in your heart. You simply wanted an out more than anything at this moment—an abditory sounding better than to admit stealing his book.

"My diary, yeah. Wait a minute, I found it under my bed the next day. How do you know 'bout that? Even 'Samu doesn't—" the fox paused, mumbling obscure words under his breath as he put two-and-two together, "You stole it?!"

"I didn't steal it!" you fought back, "I found it. I didn't read anything but the first page, because I started to feel guilty and so I wanted to return it because you would kill me if you noticed I had it. On the night we met here, of all places, I returned it to your room. Merlin's beard, I almost got caught by you too—"

"[Y/N]."

"And then I went to the Black Lake and I was conflicted because I thought you loved someone. That was when I actually realized I was really in love with you, because damn, it hurts when you find out that something you've had all along isn't yours anymore—"

"[Y/N]," Atsumu almost wanted to laugh. You were flailing your hands around as you rambled on about. He was listening to whatever you said, and he was completely entranced. Because now he really understood why he loved you. Simply spending some time with you made his heart bloom like a hibiscus on a hot summer day. And you continued, "But then your stupid arse decided to take me to the Shrieking Shack and show me that you were an animagus. I swear, who does that? The girl, God, I saw her and I felt so bad for just being with you because she nicely asked me to set you up with her."

"Wait, you wanted to set me up with her?" Atsumu asked, his mouth turning into an almost overjoyed smile, "That's—"

"Shut it!" you yelled, "That's why I ignored you. I thought you'd be better off without me, and now I'm starting to think you are."

Dejected, you begin to walk off, but somehow, just somehow, Miya Atsumu gets the smallest sliver of courage to tell you how much he cares for you—how much he wants you to stay, how much he wants to hold you, and how in love he actually is.

He takes a step forward, catching your wrist and tugging slightly, making you look back at him. The winter breeze making you look like an angel as the sky decided that it was time to shower Hogwarts with white specks of joy.

"You have no idea how much I waited to tell you I loved you," he began, "I love you so much, [L/N]."

"Why'd you run off with another girl last night, then?" you choked out a sob, tugging Atsumu's heartstrings forcefully. He opened his mouth to speak when he realized he doesn't exactly have proper reasoning for why he did what he did. You let out a dry chuckle, the atmosphere thickening as you shook off his hand and began walking.

"On the second page of my diary," he begins, "I talk about our nightly trips around Hogwarts."

"Atsumu, don't—"

"Please, just listen to me," he begs, "On the second page of my diary, I talk about how much I want to be with you. I talk about how yer one of the only things that give me happiness, and I talk about the little things you do depending on yer mood."

You chuckle as you let out a sob, but he continues, "I want to see more of it, y'know? The little thing with your hand that you do usually when you're nervous—trust me, I've seen a lot of it when you're around me. I love how yers eyes light up when eating Treacle Tarts, and I adore how you can come back with ten times the insults I throw at ya."

"You're going to make me stay, dummy," you say, with a rueful smile on your face, as he chuckles, "That's the intention, slug."

"I thought you hated me," he says, making your heart swell up, "I avoided you because I thought you hated me. And yesterday, I-I did that 'cause I didn't wanna bother you anymore. I thought," he paused, sucking in a breath, "I thought if I distance myself enough then you won't hate me anymore."

"What am I supposed to say to that, you idiot?" you laugh, to hide what you really wanted to say. You brushed your hair out of your face, walking closer to the boy. And without saying anything, he wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you even closer as he whispers into your ear, "I'm so in love with you, slug."

"I'm so in love with you too, 'Tsumu."

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staarshines · 3 years

Text

The Force Awakens Chapter 2: Hidden Force || P.D.

| The Force Awakens Masterlist |

Warnings: TFA Spoilers, torture, cursing

Word Count: 2.8k

After following Poe Dameron to the planet of Jakku in order to retrieve a map that supposedly leads to Luke Skywalker, a series of unthinkable events ensues and you’re left, stranded on a planet you know next to nothing about. After finding Finn, the stormtrooper you and Poe escaped with, BB-8, the droid who holds the map, and Rey, a girl who is surprisingly strong with he Force, you four embark on a mission full of long-lost family members, life-threatening situations, and tricks played by the Force. A mission that will change the fate of the galaxy.

[A/N]: Ignore any typos I’ll edit those out in the morning 😭 But y’all need to bully me into writing more please

“How’s mom?” Those words had been echoing in your head for the past however many hours you’d been in here. How could you have been so stupid? Maybe Mom was right. Maybe his training outweighed how strong you were in the Force. Hell, you couldn’t even brainwash the troopers that brought you in, let alone fight him in a lightsaber battle—

You hear the doors slide open and brace for whatever new form of torture they’d expose you to, but much to your relief, you see Poe—beaten, bruised, and bloody—but still your Poe.

“You look like hell,” he mutters with a grin, and you note the fact that he had four troopers escorting him. Little shit must’ve done something to up his guard count. Just the thought of it makes you smile a little.

“Look who’s talking.” You were lying. He looked hot—hotter than normal, you’d daresay. The white suits throw him at your feet and you reflexively try to bend down to help him up, but your restraints don’t allow you to do so. “Why’d they bring you here?”

“Hell if I know,” he shrugs, groaning as he tries to sit up—something the shackles made it much harder to do.

Before you two can continue your witty exchange, the doors slide open once again, and you know who it is before you even move your eyes from Poe. You let Ben—Kylo? (you’d always hated that name)—make his dramatic entrance and walk over to the two of you.

“Where’s the drive?”

“Hell if I know,” you copy Poe’s last sentence, hearing the pilot stifle a chuckle. Ben’s gaze immediately snaps down to Poe but you practically stare a hole into his helmet, not wanting to let him hurt Poe. He senses it—through the Force or whatnot, that isn’t your concern at the time—and turns his attention back to you.

“The drive.”

“I don’t have it, Ben.” You see Poe look at you and then Kyl—Ben, out of the corner of your eye, his face bathed in confusion.

“Ben?”

“Poe, meet my twin brother—”

“Stop it,” he instructs, but you can’t give a damn.

“—Ben. Solo.” You know he’s a mess of anger under that mask; you can feel it. And call it stupid, but that was exactly your plan. To get him so angry that he’d lose it, letting you see what his true abilities were.

Because fuck being on the frontlines. You finally understood that you were needed here, fighting the battles that nobody else could.

There’s the sensation of fingers curling around your throat, and you immediately regret your plan, trying to hold your breath for as long as you could instead of letting yourself panic and fight against it. Because you couldn’t. You choke a little bit, beginning to see black spots in your vision before squeezing your eyes shut, feeling yourself slowly start to slip away from consciousness.

“What the hell are you doing? Let her go!” Surprisingly, Ben does let go at Poe’s pleads, leaving you gasping for air and trying to focus on the situation at hand as fast as you could.

Poe. He was going for Poe.

Breathe. You can’t do anything if you’re unconscious.

Poe.

His screams shatter the silence that only your gasps were accompanying, which only panics you more. You’ve barely regained your breath before trying to find Poe through your haze, willing yourself to stay awake no matter how much pain it would cause you.

At least you could put up a fight against Ben. Poe was helpless.

“Ben, stop it!” Poe’s yells continue, and you can practically feel the pain he’s going through. “Ben, I said stop it!” You hear a thud and Poe’s screams stop immediately—you suddenly feel drained for absolutely no reason, like your oxygen supply was being cut off but you could breathe again.

“What… What did you do?” You hear Poe gasp, and you look down at him clutching his head, about to ask him what he means until you see Ben struggling to get up a few meters away from Poe, collapsed on the ground.

What the hell just happened?

Oh Maker. You did that.

“I don’t— I didn’t—”

“We have to get out of here. He’s going to hurt you.”

“No shit—”

“No, I mean he’s going to hurt you. He knows things about you that he shouldn’t—”

“What the hell are you talking abo—” Your head is suddenly thrown back, a sick bang resounding around the room as a result. You’re defenseless for now—when you’d look back on it, you’d realize that was bliss in the moment. You couldn’t hear anything except for muffled yells and a sharp ringing, and your vision had gone almost completely black—it was an escape for a few seconds before Kylo started to probe your mind.

And that was hell on its own.

You didn’t even remember what happened—it was all just a blur. It was like a knife being slowly pushed into your head, with you powerless to stop it. You couldn’t separate your screams of anguish from Poe’s yells of begging Kylo to stop.

But one thing you couldn’t understand—the memories of Poe flashing right in front of you. Why was Kylo looking for things about Poe instead of the location of the drive?

“No, I mean he’s going to hurt you. He knows things about you that he shouldn’t—”

That was why.

The knife is sharply ripped from your head and you’re not sure what hurt worse—experiencing the pain or being free of it.

You could recognize Poe yelling in the background trying to get your attention, but you just didn’t have enough energy to respond. The idea of trying to do what you did before to Kylo—throwing him on the ground somehow so that you and Poe could have a few seconds of peace—came to you, but if you were too tired to speak, there was no way you’d be able to channel the Force to do anything.

Through your blurry field of vision, you can see Kylo say something to the troopers then leave, and a few moments later, you have just enough strength to start to process what you were hearing.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Poe, you… you have nothing to be sorry about,” you breathe, swallowing thickly and wondering if Kylo had done some permanent damage to him. If he had, there was no way you’d let your brother live.

“I gave him the location of the drive.” Your heart stops.

“You did what?” You find the energy to look at him, but even then, you just can’t seem to process everything at once.

“I told him where it was, he was going to kill you—”

“That was his plan, Poe.” He stops abruptly. “He could kill us and we’d have no regard for ourselves over the Resistance. But the moment he knew that we’d do anything to keep each other safe, that… that was the weak link.” You’re not sure if you just exposed the fact that you had feelings for him, but that was the last thing on your mind.

“So… So you’re saying the fact that we care about each other could be the reason for the entire Resistance’s downfall?”

“Get up.” You’re awoken by the unmistakable voice of a trooper—the heaviness of the modulator gave it away.

“I can’t exactly just walk out of here,” you quip tiredly, a bit glad to know that the sleep you’d fell into after the stormtroopers escorted Poe out of the room had given you back your usual self.

If you’d ever be back to your usual self after being tortured and seeing the love of your life tortured by your brother, the both of you helpless to stop it.

The trooper removes you from the restraints of the chair, giving you a second to rub your sore hands together. You look up at him while he re-chains your hands in front of you, staring through his helmet as if you’d be able to look through it if you tried hard enough.

You’d seen him somewhere. There was no way you were mistaking him for one of the other thousands of white suits you’d encountered; something just felt… different.

Jakku.

That’s where you knew him from. You’d sensed someone else Force-Sensitive, but their signature wasn’t as strong in the moment, nor was it the one you were focusing on.

“Hey. You were on Jakku, right?” He hesitates—even if it’s for a split second. “You gotta get me and the guy that came in with me outta here. You saw what Kylo did to those innocents. We can save others just like them, but not if we’re held captive or dead.

No response.

You sigh, at least having given it a shot. You’re thinking of other ways to make a run for it without being killed as he leads you down the brightly-lit black and white hallway—no wonder their stormtroopers were depressed. There wasn’t any life on these dreadnoughts. It just looked… Mechanical. Lifeless.

“Turn here.” You’re about to question where he means here, because the closest break in the hallway is about a hundred feet in front of you, but he quickly shoves you into a storage closet, and you go full-on defense mode.

That is, until, you see your favorite curly-haired flyboy staring at you in awe.

“Poe!” you nearly scream, just the mere sight of him making you want to hug him and never let go, but that wasn’t really an option because of the cuffs on both of you. He simply tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you hold his face in your hands, thankful that your flyboy was okay and with you once again. Then, the fact that there’s a stormtrooper right behind you strikes you, causing you to turn around while grabbing onto one of Poe’s hands. “Wait, who are you? And why are you helping us?”

The stormtrooper rips his helmet off, and the sight brings you a little bit of pity—he was just another person scared for his life, running from the First Order. Or about to run from the First Order. You could tell.

“I wanted to do something good for once.”

“Nah, he was running and he needed a pilot. But I wouldn’t say yes until he agreed to bring you along, too.” You smile a little bit as he squeezes your hand, a gentle reminder that everything was going to be okay.

Maker, how could the two of you act like this as “friends” and still not be together?

You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts—why you weren’t dating Poe was an issue, but not the one at hand—and then ask the question everyone was wondering.

“So how the hell are we going to get out of here?”

“Are you sure you remember which TIE Poe is in?” you mutter quietly, starting to wonder if the stormtrooper’s nerves were rubbing off on you. The three of you had agreed that it would be stupid to have one stormtrooper escorting two high-profile prisoners, so he’d take you one by one.

“Just shut up. Stay calm.”

“I am calm,” you state a bit too confidently, still having doubts about the situation. But this was a shred of hope, and as a Resistance member, what you did best was live on the mere specks of hope you could find.

“No, I was talking to myself.” You roll your eyes a bit. “Okay, turn left, now!” The both of you quickly hurry into the tunnels where the access to the TIEs was, with you following his lead and quickly slipping into one part of the TIE, where much to your surprise, you land on Poe’s lap.

“What the hell?!” you yell, immediately jumping off his lap and thanking the Maker that the lighting in here was dim—he wouldn’t be able to see the absolutely flustered expression on your face.

“Oh. Oh.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘oh’?” you ask a bit harshly, already jumpy before you slid into Poe’s lap.

“There are only two seats in a TIE.”

“And there are three of us,” you finish for him, rubbing your temples. “I’ll fly my own one out.”

“And risk us being separated—or worse, captured? Are you out of your mind?”

“Do you have a better idea, flyboy?”

“Just sit on my lap and pilot.” You’re not sure why the idea is making you so flustered, but it is.

“Right. And is that harness big enough for the both of us?”

“I’ll be your seatbelt.” There’s a moment before you burst out into disbelieving laughter, shaking your head.

“That has to be the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say, Dameron.”

“Do you have a better idea, Solo?” He calls out your “true” last name right there, which leaves you speechless for a second. You simply shake your head, muttering a few curse words under your breath before sitting down, sucking in a breath when you feel his hands go around your waist. “Do you know how to fly a TIE?”

“Someone’s forgetting the time I did this exact same thing on my own,” you shut him up quickly, actually trying to recall how, exactly, you did it the first time.

“Are you two done, or do we plan on spending a few more hours here?!” The trooper calls from the other side, starting to fire up the weapons.

“Okay. Here goes nothing.” You push the joystick as far ahead as you can, bracing for the sudden change in speed when what actually hits you all is a jolt backwards. Your heart stops for a second, thinking Ben was pulling the TIE back, but then you realize that the idiot who you were hopelessly in love with forgot to take the leash off the TIE.

“Are you serious?!” Both you and the stormtrooper exclaim at the same time, and you swear you can hear Poe chuckle a little bit before reaching around you to grab some controls, doing Maker knows what.

You were going to kill him as soon as you made it back to base.

“I got it, I got it!” He somehow gets rid of it, leaving you to rely on nothing but memories from a few years ago and your sheer intuition to fly the TIE out of here, all while the hangar shield was closing and you were being shot at.

But, having it in your blood, you manage to do it, grinning as both of the boys cheer you on as you speed past the cannons on the bottom of the dreadnought.

Oh shit. The cannons.

“We have to get rid of those—”

“—cannons, you hear me?” you finish for Poe, making sure the TIE was going as fast as it could. “I’m going to spin around, and you’re going to shoot them. You got that?!”

“I got it!” he screams back, and you take in a deep breath, trying to do what you needed to before you realized how stupid it was.

Here goes nothing.

You spin around, yanking the joystick all the way back so you make a perfect transition from moving forward at full speed to going in reverse at full speed, all while making sure the wings don’t get burnt off by the walls.

“I got ‘em!”

“Well, you have some more TIEs to take care of when I turn back around!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You do the full-spin again, laughing a little bit when Poe whoops and pulls you further into his chest, hugging you.

“You’re fucking amazing!”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Dameron!” You laugh in glee, shooting out of the tunnel and heading towards Jakku.

“I got ‘em! I got the TIEs!” The aircraft is full of laughter and rejoicing and hope, something you haven’t felt this much of in a long time.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Poe asks the stormtrooper sitting in the back.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

“They just call me FN-2187.”

“FN, huh? Well I ain’t using it. FN… How about Finn?” You turn around slightly, just enough to face Poe, and nod a little bit, a wide smile on your face. Looking back on this memory, you wonder whether it was this small action that led to the entire course of the galaxy being changed.

“Finn… I like it.” You seem to forget everything in the galaxy besides the man whose lap you’re sitting in, repeatedly looking from his eyes to his lips, unable to help yourself and not wanting to.

“You’re amazing, you know?” The compliment masked as a question brings a smile to your face.

And perhaps, if you hadn’t been so lost in the celebration and the haze of love, you would’ve kept your head in the game and swerved the incoming blast that Finn didn’t even have time to worry any of you about.

“I know.”

Masterlist

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Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @browneyedhimbo, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron, @marvelinsanity, @softly-sad, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades, @arkofblake, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess, @propertyofdindjarin, @coldbreadbouquetworld, @melvls, @thedevilwearsbeskar

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fic #poe dameron imagine #star wars fic #star wars imagine #my writing #holy shit i havent written for so long what the fuck #does that cliffhanger doesnt even make sense #its not really a cliffhanger bc you guys have seen tfa but-

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obxparadise · 4 years

Text

Red Flags

JJ Maybank x Reader

Word Count: 1,937

Requested: @maybebanks

~A fic in which JJ finds out you’ve been abused by your boyfriend, Rafe~

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and drugs

A/N: If you enjoyed this, leave a comment!

*GIF is not mine. Credit to the owner.*

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

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re worthless.”

“I don’t know what I see in you.”

Another day, another insult, another bruise.

The diamond tile floor is cold against your body. Blood is pumping through your veins, dripping from your lip, and soaking through your white tank top. Words are on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t speak. You know better. Speaking would be signing your death sentence, and you aren’t ready to die just yet. There’s still some fight left in you.

Rafe Cameron stands over you, his once pale face now red with fury, hands balled into fists that have drops of your blood on them. He breathes hard, eyes wide and darting around the room in a frenzy. His arms are shaking and his pupils, usually small and scrutinizing, are larger than normal. There’s only one reason for it.

Cocaine.

And he loves it more than you.

That was the first red flag. His obsession with cocaine clouded his mind, fucked with his ability to think straight. At the start of your relationship, he hid it. Three months later, you walked into his room and caught him snorting the end of a line. And you ignored it.

He’d stolen from his father Ward, several times. That was the second red flag. Rafe was blessed to have been born into a wealthy family. He never worked a day in his life. The drug money came from Ward’s private safe, or from gold watches Rafe had pawned off without his father’s knowledge. And as you watched Rafe steal ten thousand dollars from the safe, you ignored it.

You arrived at his house three minutes later than you said you would. The party had gotten out of hand and you lost track of time. As you tried to explain and calm him down, his hand connected with your cheek. Red flag number three. Ignored.

“I used to get chills looking at you,” Rafe says, emotionless. “Now? I’m fucking sick of looking at you.”

There was a time Rafe Cameron did love you, if only briefly, if only for two months. He courted you, kissed you, held your hand in public. He opened doors for you, complimented you, and made love to you.

No more.

His kisses? Replaced with bruises.

Compliments? What were those?

You watch as Rafe stiffens, the sound of a car door slamming shut startling the both of you. The glass table in the dining room is just out of reach. You peer up at Rafe through wet lashes just in time to see him pull you to your feet.

His thumb collects leftover blood from your lip. It’s the closest thing to a tender touch you’ve received in years. As you stare into his eyes, you notice his pupils have shrunk down to their normal size.

“Rafe, I--.”

“Get yourself changed,” he says, eyes flickering to your blood-stained shirt. With one last look, he turns his back. “And get out of my sight.”

~~~

The Chateau is your safe haven. Though old and run down, John B’s little shack feels more like a home than the spare bedroom in the Cameron mansion. The room is occupied by whoever decides to crash there, either by yourself or JJ. This time, it was yours.

Standing in front of the mirror, you slowly lift your shirt, sucking in a breath at the sight of the bright purple bruise decorating your hip. Slightly pulling down your bathing suit bottoms, you sighed as you noticed another bruise, small and brown. How are you supposed to go swimming like this?

“Knock, knock,” Pope says, tapping the door. You pull down your shirt just in time. “Ready to go?”

No, you’re not, but staying back will only cause suspicion, and the last thing you need is the Pogues asking questions.

~~~

The sun is warm on your skin, water cold as your feet hang off the side of the HMS Pogue. A beer in your hand, you watch as Kiara and Pope play a game of Marco Polo. John B treads in the water, staying close to you, while JJ continuously throws himself off the boat.

“How was that splash?” JJ asks, lifting a hand to block the sun from his eyes.

“Eh, I give it a four,” you tease. “I’ve seen better.”

“Show me how it’s done, then,” JJ challenges, pulling himself up onto the boat. Water drips from his sun kissed skin, bathing suit clinging to his thighs. “You haven’t even gotten in the water yet today.”

“Today?” John B snickers. “We’ve been out here four days this week. You love to swim, Y/N, what’s up with you?”

You offer John B a shrug. “Just you know, not feeling it.”

“That’s code for time of the month,” JJ grins, screeching as your hand barely misses hitting his leg.

“That’s what tampons are for, JJ,” Kiara shouts.

You snort and take another swig of beer, cringing underneath John B’s skeptical gaze. Normally, he’s able to see right through you. Right now, you pray he can’t.

~~~

“Y/N, there’s pizza out here,” Pope calls out.

“I’ll be right in,” you answer from the spare room. Stripping off your bathing suit, you throw it in a pile on the floor before pulling on a pair of black sweatpants and an old OBX hoodie. The side of your hip throbs slightly and you wince, lifting the hoodie to reexamine the bruise. Your fingertips brush over the swollen flesh just as John B pushes open the door, freezing in place.

A breath is trapped in your throat as you quickly cover the bruise, swallowing as John B’s eyes burn into yours.

“Y/N…” John B says slowly. He approaches carefully, noticing the apprehension on your face. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s a bruise,” you reply simply. “I fell down the last few steps at Rafe’s house. No biggie. Y’all know I’m clumsy.”

“Y/N,--.”

“John B,” your voice has an edge to it. “I’m fine. It was an accident,” you pat his cheek softly, offering a smile. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

~~~

“I need to talk to you.”

As you, Kiara, and Pope tend to the bonfire, John B pulls JJ aside. His lip is raw from the constant biting, wondering how he is supposed to break the news to his best friend.

“What’s up, man?” JJ asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He notices the uneasiness in John B’s eyes. “Bro, you good?”

“I think,” John B pulls a hand through his hair. “I think Y/N is in trouble.”

JJ stiffens. “What kind of trouble?”

“Rafe trouble,” John B replies, gnawing the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to make any assumptions…”

“Spit it out.”

John B sighs. “I think he hits her.”

Tension in the air is thick as both boys remain unmoving. The blood in JJ’s body runs cold as the words process in his brain. “What do you mean you think?”

“On her hip,” John B says, lowering his voice. He pulls up his shirt, demonstrating. “There’s a huge bruise. She acted like it was nothing, but JJ, I swear to you, I saw it.”

“Where’s my gun?” JJ asks, fists balled tightly as he begins to head back toward the Chateau.

John B’s hand stops him. “Not now, bro. You’re on probation. This isn’t the time to be stupid. I just figured maybe you could talk to her, since you know…” John B motions to the fading black and blue rim around JJ’s eye.

“This is Y/N we’re talking about,” JJ shoots back, voice pained. “I’d die for any one of you. But for her, I’d kill a man.”

~~~

You search the Chateau rooms, gathering as many blankets as your arms can carry. Pope is fixing the fire as Kiara sets up individual chairs for everyone to sit in.

Checking the spare room, you peek under the bed for any extra blankets, and the bedroom door slams shut, startling you. Peering over the bed from your knees, a distraught JJ stands with his back against the door.

“I’ll be out in a second, just getting blankets.”

“We need to talk.”

The four words no one ever wants to hear. Swallowing, you pull yourself to your feet, reminding yourself to keep your composure. “What’s up?”

JJ says nothing at first, eyes directed at the floor as he flicks the lighter in his hand. Sweat drips down your back as he finally looks up at you. “How are you, Y/N?”

Not what you were expecting. “I’m good. How are you?” You step up to him, abandoning the blankets in your hand to touch the ring around his eye. He flinches, and your heart breaks. I know how it feels, you think to yourself. “Your eye is looking much better.”

“Better than your hip,” JJ mutters.

You step back, blinking. “W-what?”

“When the hell were you going to tell me Rafe beats you?” JJ’s voice is gravelly as he steps toward you. “What the fuck happened to Pogues for life, huh?”

“JJ, what are you talking about?” You ask defensively, praying your face doesn’t betray you. “Rafe doesn’t hit me. Why are you accusing him?”

“So you’re saying he doesn’t?” JJ sneers. He pulls a hand through his blonde hair, tugging the ends before slapping his palm against his thigh. “I noticed today your lip was split down the middle. How’d that happen?”

The walls seem to close around you. Your chest constricts, labored breaths leaving your mouth. You can’t speak, only stare as JJ’s eyes scan your face. “I, uh, b-bit it too hard.”

Unconvinced, he steps forward, grabbing your jaw before you can move. There’s hurt in his eyes, and fear in yours. “Lift up your shirt.”

“JJ, don’t--.”

“Lift up your shirt,” he repeats quietly, lip quivering. “It’s just you and me.”

Tears gather in your eyes as the realization hits you. He knows.

Your fingers shake as they grab the bottom of your hoodie, lifting slowly to reveal the bruise. JJ immediately sucks in a breath, the size of the bruise unsettling. His hand goes to your hip just as you pull away from him. JJ’s heart sinks as a tear slides down your face. He reaches out and collects it with his thumb, gently rubbing your cheek as your head leans into his touch. “How long?”

“Two years,” you say, hiding the bruise once more. “I would’ve hidden it longer if J.B. didn’t open his mouth.”

“He shouldn’t have had to tell me,” JJ responds, gaze fixated on your face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would you have done?”

“I would have been there for you!” He says it without hesitation, offended that you even had to ask. “You were the first person I told about my father. Shit, you were there for me more than anyone. You didn’t let me struggle by myself. And now…and now I find out this whole time, you’ve been letting yourself suffer when you know any one of us would’ve helped you.”

His words hurt, but they’re the truth. “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

JJ’s hands find your face, cupping your cheeks as your fingers wrap around his wrists. “I am always going to worry about you,” he rests his forehead against yours, and there’s something intimate about the gesture. “Always.”

Sighing, you pull JJ in for a hug, nestling your face in his neck as his arms circle your waist. His embrace is warm and you sink into it. A protective barrier. And for once in your life, you feel safe.

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 3 years

Text

Hell’s Kitchen || Ariana, Rio, Damien, and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Kaden’s Apartment PARTIES: @letsbenditlikebennett, @3starsquinn, @damienxsheppard, @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden finally recruits help to make the staggering number of pies needed. Two werewolves, two hunters, and one pixie, no problems whatsoever.

“Is there more flour over there?” Kaden called out, barely looking up from the counter as he worked to make more dough. It didn’t matter who answered. Honestly he wasn’t certain that his apartment was big enough for all four of them at once, at least not actively working and baking. He knew it wasn’t big enough for the number of pies they had to make. It was hard to keep from muttering curses under his breath as he worked, mostly about two hundred pies and mostly in French. Still, he was grateful for the help at the moment, odd bunch though it might be. Two werewolves and two werewolf hunters. All in one apartment. Kaden had to keep rolling his shoulders back to ignore the chills down his spine every now and then. “Make sure the finished ones are labeled,” he called out to the living room. “Uh, please.” The timer buzzed and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “And someone grab that. I’ve got another ready here to swap out.”

Orion felt like a fish out of water. He didn’t think it was going too far out on a limb to assume that he had the least amount of experience with baking. Unless watching his sister bake growing up counted for anything. “I think I saw some flour over here.” Rio answered Kaden, dodging in and out of furniture and people to get to the counter. “Sorry, excuse me!” Rio mentioned to Damien as he slid behind him. Though the two had not met before, Rio figured that if he was a friend of Kaden and Ariana’s then he must be alright. He finally reached the bag and held it up in the air triumphantly before tucking it under his arm to take back over to Kaden. He ignored the tingling sensation nipping at his skin, a mainstay anytime he hung out with Ariana. Eventually it would stop bothering him like it always did. “What do you want me to do with it?” Rio found himself asking. This had been how he tried to make himself useful despite the minimal amount of baking experience he had. He didn’t know how to bake the pies, so he busied himself grabbing ingredients and measuring things out instead.

Damien wasn’t sure why he agreed to help. He was not typically the sort to be favorable to others, and he sure as shit didn’t know how to bake. Regardless of his usual disposition, he found himself here, ignorant of the threat the two men in the room could be to him, and annoyed to see the little werewolf walking about. “What are you doing here?” Damien grumbled lowly as he bent his form down to address Ariana. His tone lacked the sharp edge he wanted it to have, dulled now by their familiarity and a liking he wouldn’t admit to. If he was made to recognize the two hunters in the room he’d be forced to realize she was his closest ally. With a brief introduction to Rio, and an old greeting given to Kaden, Damien went to work. His hand snapped out to clasp the timer as Rio slipped past him, he should be glad the alarm of it signaled another pie was done and the lot of them were closer to their goal, but he hated the sound. Maneuvering through the maze of people, Damien arrived at the oven to free it of a recent baked good, leaving the door open for someone to place another on the racks.

“Hand it to me,” Kaden said simply, holding his hand out to take the bag of flour. With a quick sigh, he realized he could actually take a whole fucking second to explain. Rio did want to learn about baking, he’d said as much before. “I need to coat my hands again so that the dough doesn’t stick to them when I’m working with it.” Without even looking at the bag, Kaden reached in to scoop out some flour and pat it onto his hands. Only as soon as he did, something was off. It was… sticky? Definitely not flour. “Putain de merde,” he grumbled to himself, holding out his sugar covered hands. ��Did you read the label on the bag, kid? I thought you liked reading.” he asked as he dodged around the two werewolves to get to the sink. “Please tell me you’re doing better over here. And can you get the next pie in the oven, Rio? Just make sure it’s not one that was already baked.”

Appreciative of Kaden trying to teach him along the way, Orion listened eagerly as Kaden explained the process and dipped his hand into the bag, only to pull out a handful of definitely not flour. Rio frowned at the bag, doing a double take to see that it did indeed claim to be sugar on the outside. Which didn’t make any sense considering he knew he had grabbed the flour. “I’m so sorry! I swe- I thought it said flour.” Rio caught himself mid sentence and rephrased, still eyeing the package as if the words were going to change back to flour. Rio pivoted quickly, still listening to Kaden while trying to right the wrong he had done. He found the bag of flour, opening it up to confirm this time before picking it up to take over to Kaden. Except this time when he lifted it, a stream of flour began pouring out of the bag from the bottom. “Oh come on!” Rio groaned, lifting it up to see a hole in the bottom. How had that happened? He plugged it with his hand and moved it next to Kaden, “There’s a hole in this, I don’t know why.” He explained clumsily before moving along to Kaden's next request, the new pies. He grabbed an unbaked one and moved towards the oven, waiting for Damien to remove a few before occupying the empty space. “Are you any good at baking or are you just as inept at this as I am?” Rio asked, smiling weakly at the man in what was probably a poor attempt at making conversation.

The commotion behind him drew Damien’s attention and he turned to watch as Kaden plunged his hand into a white bag and drew it back with his fingers covered in sugar. It seemed like an easy enough mistake to make, various ingredients in the kitchen were astray as the lot of them clamored to make more pies. One by one Damien pulled the pies from the oven, placing them on the limited counter space till only one was left perched in his hands wrapped in a cloth to prevent the heat from sinking into his fingertips. Searching the area for an available space, he found Rio struggling with the sought after bag of flour, a hole allowing for white powder to flow from the bag and dust their surroundings. He couldn’t help the small grin that developed on his face as Rio spoke to him, “you’re making me look good,” the werewolf replied as he moved through the limited space and dropped the last pie on the counter. An audible crack followed its landing as egg oozed from beneath the pan. “Fuck!” the curse was a little louder than need be, amplified by his genuine surprise, “where the hell did that egg come from? Did one of you put it there?” Damien reached for some paper towel to address the mess, “who the hell just leaves eggs lying around like that.”

The last person Ariana expected to see at Kaden’s apartment to help with baking pies of all things was Damien. Did Damien know Kaden was a hunter? Did Kaden know Damien was a werewolf? He had his whole werewolf sixth sense thing so he had to know, right? Maybe Ariana wasn’t his only exception which she was somehow both grateful for and a little jealous of, but she definitely preferred Kaden not trying to kill the grumpy werewolf she adopted so she’d take it. She couldn’t help the eye roll when Damien asked why she was here. “Helping make pies, obviously,” she answered jokingly as she continued rolling out some pie crust she had been working on. As fun as embarrassing Kaden could be, she wasn’t too keen to go into their fairly complicated backstory. Instead, she cackled as Kaden got his hands all sticky with sugar. It seemed like what followed was just a series of unfortunate events as Rio dropped flour everywhere and Damien broke a random egg. Ariana couldn’t help but laugh at Damien’s curses. “Y’all good? Do we need to like… reorganize the space,” she asked before her rolling pin went over an egg that definitely wasn’t there when she started rolling. “Hey,” she exclaimed with a hint of frustration in her voice, “Just because you’re making a mess of the eggs doesn’t mean you had to put one in my way,” she grumbled at Damien.

The kitchen was filled with cursing, which was nothing new, but it left Kaden wondering if the was a good idea after all. Maybe he should have just continued to struggle on his own to chip away at the growing list of orders. “My hands are wet, I can’t--” He didn’t get to finish his sentence before having to try and clumsily grab the leaking bag, alternating wiping his hands dry on his jeans. It only worked a little. The cracking behind him made him wince. “The hell is going on in here?” he muttered, mostly to himself, setting the bag aside for now. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of the way before remembering that his were both still a little wet and sprinkled with patches of flour. “Rearrange. Yeah, let’s do that. We can, uh… We can move things…” He looked around for any opening. “Somewhere. I don’t know, we can move the extra ingredients out onto the table over there, the one with the--” His brows furrowed as he went to point towards the dining room table. The one currently covered in mushrooms. Putain. Of course the fucking pixie was at it. Something he knew he could explain to Rio and Ari. How much did Damien even know? And what kind of shit would that lead to? Kaden sighed. For now, ignore it. “The mushrooms. Just move those. Ignore them. Whatever.”

“When was the last time you had your eyes checked,” Damien countered Ariana as she reeled to recover the damage the egg had done to her rolling pin, “I’ve been too busy to plant eggs around here for you.” He snagged another paper towel and cleaned the surface the pie was resting on, discarding the material into the nearest trash bin. He had hardly been paying attention to what the hunters were doing, only turning around when Kaden began to formulate a new plan for their operation. Eyes scanned the cluttered workspace for available room for the pies, locking on the table the same time Kaden noticed the abundance of mushrooms. Where the hell had those come from? He didn’t remember seeing them when he walked in, and if he had he would have turned tail and left thinking this was some kind of joke. Damien had been fortunate enough that since moving to White Crest his interactions with the supernatural were limited, or subtle. They didn’t exactly step out and admit they were vampires or fae. Only recently had he encountered another of his kind that resulted in any damage. He had no idea what could have produced so many mushrooms. “Are you joking?” he turned to the others, clearly confused, “are we using those? We’re not using those, right? That would be disgusting. I might not have the cooking skills of a Frenchman but even I can’t stomach the idea of mushroom pie.”

Did baking usually involve this much mess? Orion knew people always said that a few eggs had to be cracked, but he had never considered that the phrase was meant literally. “Mushrooms?” Rio asked, perplexed by Damien’s statement until he had turned and spotted them for himself. That was certainly odd, and if Rio had to take a wild guess, probably involved some sort of fae. But why here of all places? “Is this a normal occurrence while you’re baking?” Though the thought was perplexing, he thought it would be mildly humorous if the hunter’s secret to baking was some sort of fae ingredient. Rio was checking on the pies he had put in the oven when he heard music start playing from seemingly nowhere. Recognized the song too, Abba. He had always loved the group until he realized the Silver Bullet played it so much. “Where is that music coming from?”

Not quite willing to admit Damien was probably right, Ariana opted to stick her tongue out at him before cleaning up the mess in front of her. “Whatever,” she muttered before following Kaden out to the table. Her brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of all the mushrooms. Sure, he was dating a banshee, but Regan didn’t exactly seem the type to enjoy getting hopped up on fairy mushrooms. Plus, she was pretty sure those weren’t there when she arrived. “Ignoring the mushrooms. Sounds like a great idea,” she said with a not so subtle hint of sarcasm in her tone though she eventually found herself laughing at Damien’s questions. She’d explain later, but for now, she joked, “Obviously someone requested a mushroom pot pie.” Only seconds before Rio mentioned it, she could faintly hear the sound of that one Gimme Gimme Gimme song that Celeste had always liked. It caused her mouth to twist into a slight frown. “Yeah, Kaden, what’s with the old people music?” She shook her head, “No wonder you and Celeste were friends. Same boomer music taste.”

“Not normal, no,” Kaden called out with a sigh not far behind. He wiped off his hands once more on his jeans before turning to the fridge, swinging the door open, and reaching in for two bottles. “Here,” he said, handing one of the bottles of beer to Damien. “I think we’re going to need this.” He cracked open the cap and took a swig before looking at the state of the table. Rumpleskuffs, had to be. Showing off for all the new guests. Kaden debated disappearing into the other room to make a deal with the pixie just long enough to get this all over with when he, too, heard a familiar sound. His eyes darted to the teenager, wide and shocked before narrowing in on her. “Cut it out, Ari. Is this another one of your tocking tick pranks? Putain, this isn’t--” Only it was clear she wasn’t responsible for the music, either. “Hey. I’m not that old. I don’t even like ABBA. That much. Anyway.” The timer went off again. His brow furrowed and he looked back to the oven. There was no way that was right. The pies just went in. “One second,” he said as he went to check on the pies. Not done. He turned off the timer and reset it, hoping that he wasn’t going to have to reset it again in a minute or two. Something told him that might be the case.

“You don’t like ABBA?” Orion questioned the hunter, perplexed by the bold statement. When it played at the Silver Bullet was just about the only time that people in that place didn’t seem all that bad. For a moment, they stopped being all grumbly and macho. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Rio’s part. “It’s tiktok, Kaden.” He sighed, almost amused by how terribly he had butchered the app name, “And I don’t think this song is one of the popular sounds.” Not this ABBA song at least. A timer suddenly going off made Rio jump, hopping away from the oven and raising his heart rate on instinct. There was no way those were done already. Rio folded his arms and cast a worried glance over towards Damien. If he wasn’t here, Rio would be asking about what was actually going on. Since Kaden and Ariana weren’t bringing it up, he assumed that meant he must not be in the know. Or at the very least, not in the know about fae and the mischief they can allegedly cause. “I didn’t know volunteering to help you bake pies was going to be so... eventful.”

Damien gratefully accepted the beer Kaden offered him, with the music playing in the background and mushrooms piled up onto the table things were starting to feel part of a show. A cooking segment you accidentally landed on while clicking through shows and paused on because of the quirky nature of it all. He took a drink of his beer and shrugged off the remarks between the two discussing the name of an app and their taste in music. Damien snagged an empty bowl meant for cooking and started to collect the mushrooms, “mushroom pot pie my ass,” he replied, though he was sure by Ariana’s tone that she hadn’t been serious at all. “And don’t lie Kaden, everyone likes ABBA, or at least one of their songs.” Damien took the mushrooms he collected into review, looking over the strangeness of their appearance as if the answer was written just out of sight. “What do you even want me to do with these?”

“What? No. Even if this was a good prank, this whole mess is longer than one minute,” Ariana said with a matter of fact tone to her voice as if Kaden was supposed to know that TikTok videos couldn’t be longer than a minute. She grabbed some more finished pies to set on the table and clear their workspace and shook her head at Damien’s mushroom pot pie questioning. Later, she’d explain the significance of mushrooms though she was dying to know now just why they were here. Still, curiosity took over as she picked up one of the mushrooms and eyed the almost fake looking spots that danced across it’s cap. “Is Regan on a mushroom kick or something,” she blurted out before adding the mushroom to the bowl Damien was collecting them in. Regan didn’t seem the type to intentionally partake in fae things, but it would explain the pimping out pies thing.

How was it that everyone in that damn room knew his secret? How the hell did they find out? Kaden’s eyes shot to Ari. Did she tell Rio? She could have. But how did Damien know, too? “Alright, fine,” he admitted with a grumble into his beer. “I don’t hate ABBA but I don’t love them or anything like that.” His brow furrowed again as Damien brushed the mushrooms off the table. Interesting. Normally they were just visual illusions. Then again, Rumpleskuffs had been very bored lately. Maybe he save some spores just for this sort of occasion. “You can, uh, just put them in the trash. Or something.” Shit, would that anger the tiny fae? Probably. “Or, uh, just set them to the side. Somewhere. Doesn’t matter, figure it out.” The timer went off again and Kaden thought he might scream. At the very least he was going to take this fucking timer and chuck it out the window. Instead, he simply turned it off again, reset it again, and placed it down on the counter as gently as he could manage. It still was a bit of a slam. “Huh?” he called back to Ari, his chest tightening at the thought. He knew Ari knew what Regan was. And Rio. But would that give her away to Damien? Couldn’t they just all pretend to be completely fucking normal humans for an hour or two? Wouldn’t that be nice? “No, definitely not hers. Regan hates mushrooms. I think. Nah, this is just, uh, wel…” Shit, should have gone with her explanation. “Maybe just another experiment of hers or something. Like that.”

Damien discarded the bowl of mushrooms on the couch sofa, it seemed unlikely they’d need that space for anything else with the pies quickly taking over the apartment. He had never asked how Kaden managed to rack up such an order and it seemed a little late now to question it. The timer began to chime again, signifying one more item baked towards their goal, but the sound of it landing on the counter a little too harshly caused Damien to turn his head. Was this about Regan? He didn’t see how mushrooms could be tied back to her but the stress of this, it seemed like the roots really dug into something more daunting than a bake off. “I don’t get the impression Regan is much of a trickster. Though maybe she’d have an interest in mushrooms if they were sprouting from something recently departed. Or were related to the death of something,” at least, that was more of the impression Damien had of her, knowledgeable about all things deceased. He strode over to Kaden, placing a hand on his shoulder, “maybe you should take a break man,” he gave a light push over towards the couch, “I think he can manage for a little bit.” It was then that Damien turned his head, or rather, looked down to find Ari, “come on girl scout, time to earn a badge for baking mastery.”

Mushrooms were a fae thing, Orion knew that much. Though he didn’t think it was really a Banshee thing. Definitely not a Regan thing. Not unless this whole health kick where Regan assumed that Rio was one missed protein or strong breeze would be his breaking point had been nothing more than a practical joke all along. If that were the case, Rio would actually have to be a bit impressed. And maybe a bit disappointed. “Saprophytes” Rio suggested casually as the discussion turned towards mushrooms growing on dead things, “It’s a type of fungus that grows on dead things.” Not that those mushrooms were the kind that grew on dead things. At least he didn’t think so. Damien was trying to get Kaden to take a break, which was probably the right idea. Even if the idea of losing his lifeline to this whole baking thing was a bit terrifying. “Who is in charge then? Because I don’t know what I’m doing. Guidance requested please.”

Considering Damien seemed to shrug off any warnings she gave him about other supernatural crap that happened in town, Ariana doubted that he’d put together two and two when it came to fae and mushrooms. Kaden seemed pretty certain Regan hated mushrooms and given how serious Regan was, she doubted she was really into pranks. Still, if she happened upon some mushrooms, that could have changed her outlook a bit. At least from what Ariana understood about fae and mushrooms which admittedly wasn’t much for someone who had a warden girlfriend. She looked Damien and Kaden both with an amused grin on her face and wondered why they weren’t just throwing the mushrooms out. “Couch, seems good enough until the kitchen is freed up,” she said with a shrug before she added, “And I’m a little old to be a girl scout, but I’ve gotten pretty good at baking. So don’t worry, you two be grumpy old men together and Rio and I can take over in the kitchen for a bit.” Before she even finished her sentence, she could practically hear Kaden grumbling about how he wasn’t grumpy or saying some French swear word. While he hadn’t responded, it still left her smiling. She linked her arm up with Rio’s and assured, “No worries, Rio. I’ve been baking with your sister long enough that I’m practically an expert at this point.” Somehow, the timer was going off again and she swore it had only been a few minutes. Someone was definitely joking around here. If this was a cartoon, she was sure steam would be coming out of Kaden’s ears and that was enough to have her laughing amongst the chaos again. She dragged Rio into the kitchen, turned the timer off, and whispered, “Okay, what the hell is going on here? Who is not me and pranking Kaden?” Mime stripper reviews crossed her mind and her eyes lit up. She poked her head out of the kitchen and asked, “Hey, Kaden? Has Nell been here recently?” Though mushrooms still didn’t seem like Nell’s style even if she had joked about enchanting vegetables after the potato incident.

Damien was going to elect Ariana as the leader of this little group, she seemed to be the thread that connected most of them, but he also did not want to give Ari the satisfaction of his vote. So, he took to his role in accompanying Kaden to the couch as the second half of the grumpy man team, throwing an arm around Kaden’s shoulder as he indulged in his beer. “I’ll be happy to fit the grumpy man trope if it lets me finish my drink,” he murmured to Kaden, maneuvering towards the couch. Damien let his body all but crashing into the cushion, sinking in without protest. The time spouted off again causing him to briefly turn his head to see how the others were managing the kitchen before returning his focus on the drink. He knew he shouldn’t ask what came next, that he shouldn’t want to know, but some part of him had grown to care for these people and Damien struggled to ignore that. “How are things going with Regan, with her classes I mean?” he asked Kaden, “is she taking breaks in-between to work on the pie business?”

“Guess Ari is your guidance,” Kaden said back to Rio. “Just shout if you all need help. And I’m not that old, alright,” he grumbled as he took a seat on the couch. Putain, he couldn’t remember the last time he sat down today, if he was being honest. Maybe the teenage werewolf was right and he did need the break. The timer went off again and he pinched his nose between his fingers, hoping the pressure would relieve some of the tension in his head. It wasn’t working so he took a swig of his drink instead. It didn’t make the headache go away but it was good beer and it was better than the goddamn mushrooms. “It’s not Nell. Or Blanche. Or Grace.” Not that it was even possible to be some of them but he knew the cause of this was a small fae who had taken up residence in his apartment. Another swig was definitely necessary. “How do you know Nell, anyway?” Then again, it wasn’t hard to run into at least one Vural in town. Well, now that there were three again. Kaden sighed and was about to take another drink but Damien’s comment made him stop and furrow his brows. “Huh?” he asked as he looked over to Damien. Classes? What cl-- Oh. Oh. That’s right. When he’d explained the banshee lessons. Putain. “Uh, yeah it’s going alright. She’s made progress I think. Almost done. But yeah, the pies have been a good break for her. As much of a fucking mess this is, it’s been nice to have.”

Somehow, the two youngest ended up in charge of the pies. Luckily for Orion, Ari knew what she was doing. Unluckily for him, she knew what she was doing because of his sister. She wasn’t exactly an ideal conversation topic. Ironically, she was probably the most conflicting part of his own friendship with Ari at this point. He trusted her to keep Ari safe, but not much beyond that. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll be the obedient sous chef.” Rio laughed. When she whispered to him he shrugged but glanced toward the two. He didn’t know Damien, but he didn’t really seem the type. Kaden hadn’t been wrong to suspect Ari first, admittedly. “No idea. But all seems very… fae-y. Just pretend that’s a word.” The kitchen was a mess and he couldn’t tell what parts of that were their doing and what part was whatever was continuing to mess things up. While he waited on instructions, Rio worked to try to tidy up. “We have a very intricate young person friend group, Kaden.” Rio answered his question. Of course they knew Nell. Probably because of Winston. At least in Rio’s case, they had been the common string that introduced most of the friends Rio had now. “We’re all very tight knit.” Trauma and near death experiences had a habit of encouraging bonding experiences.

Seeing as Kaden wasn’t dropping any hint of who the hell was playing mushroom pranks on him, Ariana figured it was probably time to drop it. She could always bug him about it later. It seemed like she could have a true partner in crime with pranking Kaden. The part of her that enjoyed the clout on TikTok was delighted. The part of her that still struggled to wrap her head around fae things after everything with Lydia and then Deirdre, decided maybe this prankster wasn’t up her alley. Mushrooms brought a rightful sense of unease. “Your sous-chef duty for now is gonna be turning the timer off since it seems to like going off every 2 minutes and we all have too good of hearing for that shit,” she said to Rio who could probably already sense she wasn’t the only werewolf in the room. She got to rolling out some more dough for the crust and called out, “What he said.” It was easier than explaining they chatted online a few times before Nell and Bea helped make charmed jewelry to help protect her and Celeste. So much help that did, not that it was their fault. With a few more crusts cut out, she got another batch of pies ready to move into the oven. As crazy as the afternoon was, Ari found there was some sort of content feeling that came with being surrounded by people she loved.

#writing #wickedswriting #chatzy #hell's kitchen #ariana #letsbenditlikebennett #damien #damienxsheppard #3starsquinn #orion

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7-wonders · 4 years

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I Can Love You Like That

Summary: How do you tell someone you love them without looking like you’re a traumatized victim of a kidnapping (even if you are exactly that)?

Word Count: 3255

A/N: After the slowest of slow burns...well, I’ll just let you guys read and enjoy (or maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll hate it. Either way, you’ll have read it, so ha!).

But for real, let me know what you think? I put a lot of work into this chapter and I would hate for y’all to be unsatisfied or displeased.

(Adding in the list of previous Mad Love chapters bc I’m stupid and forgot to)

The first thing that you do when you finally make it home is surprising to Michael. He had expected you to fall into your bed and nap, or seek out your cat, or even go into the kitchen and start baking to distract yourself from the trauma you’ve endured. What he didn’t expect you to do was to lay on the grass outside and stare up at the clouds.

“Uh, (Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You nod, refusing to look away from the beautiful, endless sky. “Just...enjoying the sky.”

“Do you need anything?”

This time, you shake your head. Michael shifts back and forth awkwardly, unsure of what he should do. It’s not like you’re willing to tell him why you’ve decided to lay on the grass. He’d look at you with more pity than he already shows when he hears that you’re enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin again after two weeks of thinking that you would never experience this again.

“Okay,” he says cautiously. “I’m going to go inside and make a couple of calls I’ve been ignoring, then.”

You wave a hand nonchalantly in his direction. “Go call off Seal Team 6, Langdon. I’ll still be here when you’re done.” The door closes behind him after a moment of silence, and you let out a content sigh at the warmth your body is soaking up as you spread your arms to your sides.

As promised, you’re still in the same position that Michael left you in when he comes outside after a half an hour. He resumes his nervous shifting, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his hesitance. While you can understand why he would be treating you with such fragility, it’s still annoying to be on the receiving end of this.

“You can lay down with me instead of standing up, if you want.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, but you smirk triumphantly when you glance him laying down out of your peripheral vision. You can tell he’s never done anything so whimsical and carefree as laying down on the grass and finding shapes in the clouds, the stiffness of his limbs enough of a giveaway. Cautiously, Michael lays his hand palm-up on the ground as an open invitation to you. Stubbornness and knowledge wage a battle within your mind; although you would like to refuse his hand, you and he both know that your relationship has forever changed. Interlocking your fingers with his, he squeezes your hand as if to reassure himself that you’re actually here.

“I don’t have to have magic powers to know that you have a lot of questions.”

Michael laughs softly beside you. “You would be correct. I just...don’t know what’s okay to ask, or what I want to say.”

“Ask, I guess. If I want to answer it, I will. If it’s something I’m uncomfortable with, I’ll let you know.”

“I’m so sorry. For everything.” You look over at Michael to find that he’s already staring back at you. “Going to my father and complaining to him about your free will, which I love about you. Keeping things from you after the first time that he tried to poison you. That stupid fight we had. Getting you caught up in this in the first place.”

“Me being involved with you was not your fault, okay? I know that, and I need to make sure that you do too. You did not handpick me, or something like that. Your stupid dad told you what was going to happen, and you followed him because that’s what you’ve done your entire life.” You squeeze his hand to get him to look at you, shame averting his eyes up. “Okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

A smile plays on your lips as you stifle a laugh. “God, I wish you knew pop culture, this could have been a perfect moment.”

“Why?”

“Nothing in particular.” It would take too long to explain to him.

“Was Madison the only one that physically harmed you?”

“Yeah. You know, for this tiny little actress who constantly wears designer clothes, she can throw a mean punch.” Michael doesn’t appreciate your joke, which is understandable.

“You won’t be pleased, but her death was extra painful.”

“I don’t want to say she deserved it, but…” But what? Are you really now condoning the deaths who have wronged you simply because your Antichrist husband has the ability to kill them? Said Antichrist husband can tell that you’re having a minor internal crisis about your forgotten sentence, and clears his throat to bring your attention back to the present.

“It’s okay to be conflicted about your feelings. She did terrible things to you, they all did. You don’t have to be happy about her being dead, but you certainly have no reason to mourn.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the one reassuring you.”

“I’m not the one who was kidnapped and beaten for two weeks,” he retorts. His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said, but instead of getting angry, you giggle in amusement.

“Well alright then, is there anything else you want to ask me?”

“You’ve been through enough lately, you don’t need me pestering you with endless questions right now.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re more than a little relieved. Fatigue has started to settle in your bones, and the thought of a hot shower to wash off all of the grime that a daily five minute shower under ice cold water can’t remove is extremely tempting. Whether you’re just that transparent or Michael’s tapping into his supernatural abilities, it’s obvious to him that you’ve just about reached your limit in this Q&A session.

“If you want, I can see if the kitchen staff will make your favorite food?” Michael asks helpfully.

“Honestly, I just kinda wanna go to bed early. I’ll eat something more substantial tomorrow, but I can survive on snacks tonight.”

“Whatever you want, (Y/N). You’ve been through enough lately, nobody’s going to force you to do something if you don’t want to do so.” Michael stands up, gently pulling you up with him.

“Thank you, Michael. For...being so kind and coming to rescue me when I was a damsel in distress.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “While I would do it a million times over, let’s hope that I don’t have to do that again.”

Once outside of your bedroom, Michael pauses before hugging you. “For somebody who never experienced hugs before meeting me, you’ve become very good at them.”

“Just...wanted to remind you that I love you.”

You want to say it back, but your throat tightens at the reminder of Madison’s words. “I know. Trust me, I do.”

With one last smile directed towards you, Michael lets go of your hand and watches you walk into your bedroom. Even after you’ve closed the door, he remains outside in the hall, waiting until the water starts running to reassure himself that you’re safe.

You’ve never experienced a more heavenly shower in your life. While you could have stayed under the warm flow of water for hours, the idea of coming out looking like a raisin is enough to convince you that 45 minutes is enough. As you lotion your skin and comb your hair, you take great care to study and feel each action. If there’s one good thing to come out of this experience, it’s that you’ll never take a convenience like brushing your teeth for granted ever again. Falling back onto your mattress, you revel in just how soft a bed can be. Before you can even think of getting something to eat, your eyes slip shut almost against your will.

It’s been maybe an hour since you’ve fallen asleep when you suddenly wake, hands clutching at your chest as your heart feels like it’s going to burst. While you had assured Michael numerous times that you were feeling fine about everything that had happened to you in the past two weeks, it seems as though you were attempting to convince yourself more than him. The nightmare that woke you, of Cordelia plunging a knife into Michael’s chest while the witches made you watch before turning on you, is burned into your eyes like you were looking straight at a projector. The more that you try to calm yourself down, the more that you get worked up. Gathering your blanket around your shoulders and picking the cat up from her position at the end of your bed, you shuffle out of your room and down the hall.

You hesitate outside of Michael’s door, not sure if you’re making the right decision. Regardless of your self-doubt, the sliver of light peeking from under the door is beckoning you in from a dark hallway where your nightmares lurk in just the other room. Quickly knocking on the door, you let yourself in when Michael says your name.

He looks utterly domestic, propped up in bed with his long hair spilling carelessly over his shoulders. Ignoring the fact that he’s shirtless (why does he have to show off his flawless physique while he’s sleeping?), you smile at the book in his hands.

“You’re finishing the Harry Potter series?”

Michael glances at the cover, as if unaware of what he was reading until just now. “I couldn’t just finish the sixth book and not finish the series. I’m far too invested for that.”

“You’ll have to let me know your thoughts once you finish.”

“I wasn’t aware that a book could surprise me, but Snape killing Dumbledore was something I had not anticipated.”

You laugh lightly in acknowledgement, but remain silent otherwise. Even though you’re Michael’s wife, you’re not sure of your place in his bedroom, which leaves you snuggling the cat as you wait for Michael to make the next move.

“Is there something wrong? I went to say goodnight to you about half an hour ago, but you were asleep.”

“I--do you think I could sleep in here tonight?” Michael does a terrible job at hiding his surprise, so you elaborate. “I had a nightmare, and I’d prefer to not be alone.”

“You know you don’t have to ask.”

Setting the book aside, Michael pulls back the covers and moves over to allow you an ample amount of space. The cat jumps out of your arms and settles at the end of the bed, happy to be with her favorite person...and you. Sliding in next to Michael, he allows you to determine just how close you want to be. You choose to lay right next to him, curling up with your head on his chest. Slowly, he wraps an arm around you, stroking his fingers through your hair when you don’t flinch away. While this is new territory for both of you, it’s comfortable.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

You shake your head. “It was nothing. Just…”

“Ah,” Michael says in understanding. “If it’s any consolation to your subconscious, I want you to know that I never stopped searching for you. It may have felt as though I had abandoned you, but I would never just leave you there.”

“I was worried,” you admit. “Especially after the way that our last conversation ended. There was so much left unsaid, and I thought I would never get to say anything to you again.”

“I worried too. I never got to tell you how sorry I was for my part in my father’s plan.”

“You already apologized this afternoon.”

“And I’ll continue to apologize for as long as I live.”

“I get it. I don’t want to say that you’re forgiven, because that was a really shitty thing to do.”

“Believe me, I know,” Michael laughs.

“But I understand just how powerful his influence is. Back when he pulled my subconscious into Hell, or the In-Between, or whatever you want to call it, I saw how persuasive he could be.” Michael knows that something more happened during that experience, something that you’re not telling him, but he lets it go for now.

“You don’t know how much this means to me, (Y/N).” He glances down at you, hesitant. “What...what did they do to you? During your captivity, I mean.”

“Besides Madison Montgomery using me as her personal punching bag? Not much in the way of torture. They made me brutally aware of the fact that I was bait so they could kill you and stop the world from ending. Kept me locked up in a windowless room for two weeks, forced me to listen to Myrtle droning on and on for hours on end.” Michael laughs at that, and you smile at the fact that your dumb joke is something that was able to take away from the sting of hearing you talk about your experience being kidnapped.

“I’m sorry about threatening Mallory.”

“She kind of deserved it.”

“Do you think you’ll ever talk to her again?”

“Wow, we’re really just knocking out all the tough questions tonight,” you sigh. “It’s only been a day since this happened, but I’ve thought about that numerous times. I used to think that, once someone betrayed your trust, they never got it back. However, in the course of our marriage, I’ve learned that there’s so many different factors that lead someone to make that decision, especially when it comes to the supernatural. If you would have asked me last year what I would do in this situation, I already know that I would have never talked to her again. I also would have thought I would never talk to you again, but I made up my mind as I was driving away that I was going to come back the next day.”

“While I’m not pleased that I messed up enough to be one of your examples, I am happy to know that you didn’t plan on leaving me for good.”

“I could never,” you say, “who else would I have to tease?”

Michael smirks. “You would have found somebody.”

“Nobody like you, though.” The way that your heart involuntarily flutters when Michael smiles at you, no matter how you try to convince yourself that you’ve developed a heart murmur, makes you think of your conversation with Madison. “You know, when Madison wasn’t physically assaulting me, we actually had a very interesting conversation.”

“You did?”

“She basically said that I’m stupid and naive, but she also had some very interesting points.”

“What were those?”

Your hands grow clammy at the thought of being mere seconds away from Michael knowing what had been said, anxiety trying to convince you that this is a conversation best saved for another time. “You know, I’m actually pretty tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Rolling onto your side and pulling the blankets up to your chin, you try to sell the act that you really are tired. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t buying. “(Y/N),” he says patiently, placing a hand on your shoulder and moving you to face him. “What did Madison say to you?”

“You’re gonna think I’m stupid and suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or something like that.”

“I would never think that you’re stupid!” Michael strokes your cheek, making you look up at him. “Please tell me. I can tell that this is weighing heavily on you, when that’s the last thing you need.”

“She…” you sigh in frustration and rub your hands over your face. “Basically, she told me that I’m in love with you but I’m too stupid to see it.”

“And?”

“And I think she might have been right,” you blurt out in a rush, averting your eyes to the ceiling so you don’t have to look at him.

Michael’s silent for a moment. “You...think she might have been right?”

You nod.

“Right in the fact that you’re in love with me but too stupid to see it?”

“I really hope you’re just quoting her words and not calling me stupid, but yes.”

“Oh.”

You sigh. “Yeah, that was about my reaction, too.”

“I still don’t think you’re stupid, but I do think you’re suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.”

“If I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, don’t you think I would have fallen in love with you a long time ago?” Michael nods in contemplation, acknowledging your point. “I’m tired, Michael.”

“Okay, we can talk about this in the morning.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Rubbing at your face, you look up at him. “I’m tired of playing this game, and being stubborn just for the sake of keeping up appearances. I feel like I’m keeping up this facade simply as a ‘fuck you’ to your dad. It was originally for you as well, but now...”

“Are you saying that you actually do love me?”

“I first realized that I might love you after Dinah Stevens reversed what Satan had done to me. You were just...so sweet and caring. You didn’t leave my side once during that time.”

“How do you know that? You were unconscious.”

“I could feel your hand holding mine the whole time. Your remorse towards what Satan had done to me and your determination to nurse me back to health...nobody else would have done that for me. Not only did you push aside your own feelings, which I’m sure were extremely conflicted, but you dropped everything for me. I’ve never had another person forgo all their other duties just so they could take care of me.”

“You love me,” Michael whispers in reverence, eyes shining in the dim light.

Madison Montgomery had told you that there wouldn’t be some “aha” moment when it came to knowing whether or not you were in love with a person. Laying in Michael’s arms, in the peacefulness of a shared bed, you realize that this is your “aha” moment. At least, it’s one of a few that you’ve had. Nevertheless, you know that this is a position you would happily stay in for the rest of your life. You’ve never felt this with a person before, and you doubt you’ll ever feel it with someone else again. In your heart, you know that Michael is it for you.

“Yeah, I love you,” you say just as quietly. “You’re the Augustus Waters to my Hazel Grace, only with no cancer.”

Michael laughs. “What does that even mean?”

“It relates back to the pop culture conversation we had earlier today, don’t worry about it.”

He shakes his head at your quirkiness, but grins at you anyways. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you,” you repeat. It’s a new phrase, at least in the way that you’re saying it to Michael. Although new, it feels natural and good.

“So what now? We’re already married.”

“I guess we’re just working backwards. Marriage, declarations of love, followed by dating? I would like to be courted by you.” You wink at Michael, a soft blush dusting his cheekbones.

“I suppose I could do that.”

“For now, though, I would be content with just falling asleep here, with you.”

He kisses the top of your head, making you smile. “I can do that, as well.”

Michael strokes your hair and cheeks, laying featherlight kisses on your skin until you fall asleep. And when you do finally sleep, there are no more nightmares. Your world, which has been shattered and hastily taped back together numerous times in the span of a few months, finally feels right once more.

Tag List: @ccodyfern @trelaney @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @xavierplympton @ajokeformur-ray @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @hplotrfan @1-800-bitchcraft @coloursunlimited @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @langdonslove @cuddletothecake @nsainmoonchild @born-on-stgeorges-day @tcc-gizmachine @90sroger @gold-dragon-slayer @atombombastic @lvngdvns @blakewaterxx @yoheyyosup @forever1313 @ladyrindt @kaetastic @loilko @riotsouls666 @lustminaj @accio-rogers @holylangdon @sojournmichael @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @diaryofalandlockedmermaid @dark-mei-rose @brattylovee

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfiction #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story imagines #american horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs fanfiction

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buckysbitch107 · 4 years

Note

Can you write a fic where Bucky sabe reader from her toxic friends?? Can you make them really mean and make Bucky really sassy? Thanks 😊 btw I love your writing so far! You’re really good 😝

A Little Help | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You don’t even know why you still hang out with them. They’re rude, ignorant, and just overall toxic. So when everything goes wrong over dinner, you simply start dialing numbers to see who would pick up and be able to drive you home, knowing that the buses don’t run this late. What you didn’t expect was for your crush, Bucky Barnes, to be the first one to pick up. What you didn’t expect even more, was his reaction once he got there.

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, S A S S

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: Hope this meets your standards! I tried my best with this one and i hope you enjoy it! Just a reminder that I will always be accepting requests!

“Hey, guys! Sorry, I’m late! Got held up at the office.” You explain, sitting down at the table with your two other friends. Heather shoots you a small smile while Lauren looks you up and down with pursed lips.

“Hi Y/N!” Heather greets before looking back down at her menu. Lauren scoffs quietly and you shoot her a confused look.

“Something wrong?” You ask, reaching for your water and taking a sip of it.

“Did you have to wear that dress?” Lauren comments, her face riddled with disgust.

“Is something wrong with it?”

“It’s tight, short, and a little revealing. I just wouldn’t recommend wearing it with your body type.”

“Lauren-”

“I know I’m not the only one thinking it!” Lauren admits, turning to Heather. “I mean, come on. Her thighs giggled when she sat down, her stomach pudges out of that dress, and no one wants to see those stretch marks, sweetie.” Heather sighs before turning to you.

“She’s not wrong, Y/N. You do look a little chubby in that dress. Plus you could’ve worn something nicer. Not that cheap crap. I mean come on, buy something of value for once.” She comments.

“Can we just order our food?” You whisper, looking down at your menu, trying to hold back the tears coming out of your eyes. The waiter comes over and takes your order, the people sitting beside you giving you sideways glares as they order their own food.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. You ordered enough food to choke a goat. Especially with your body type, you should really watch what you eat.” Your eyes burn as you look down at your food.

“I’ll be right back.” You whisper, standing up and walking to the bathroom. You dry your tears and fix your makeup before making your way back to the table, stopping when you hear two familiar voices talking.

“God, why did you even invite her?” Heather asks, not aware of your position in relation to the table.

“Because I feel bad for her. We’re the best chance she’s got at ever having friends. I still hate her though.” Lauren admits, making you stop in your tracks and turn back to run into the bathroom. You pull out your phone and start dialing numbers, hoping someone will answer. Mom? No answer. Kelly, your big sister? No answer. You run through the rest of your contacts and realize the only people you haven’t called are some of the Avengers. Coulson? Nah, he’s most likely asleep. Cap? Funny voicemail, no answer. Your finger lingers over the last name, and you click it before placing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Bucky answers after a few rings.

“Buck-” You whisper, your voice catching due to tears, a crack replacing what would have been more words.

“What’s wrong doll? You sound upset.” He asks, sounding more alert and concerned.

“Can you just pick me up? I’m at the restaurant on 8th and Madison.”

“Sure, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” You walk back to the table after drying your tears once again and pick up your purse, quickly making up the excuse that your boss called you in. The two girls nod and continue their conversation, leaving you to walk out of the restaurant. As you stand out in the cold, tears start streaming down your cheeks.

~~~

The rumble of a motorcycle pulls you from your thoughts and you look up, instantly spying the old-fashioned Harley Davidson pulling up beside the curb. Bucky hops off his bike, placing the kickstand down before rushing over to you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug that makes you sob a little harder. He pulls away and pushes the hair out of your face, his brows furrowing at your red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh doll, what happened?” Bucky whispers, causing you to let out a loud sob. You babble to him about the things your “friends” said about you, and his face grows angrier and angrier by the minute.

“And I just wanna go home.” You finish, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your coat.

“They said what to you? That’s un-fucking-acceptable.” He mumbles, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you inside the restaurant. You try to object, but you end up just leading him to the toxic friends still eating their meals. “Are you two Heather and Lauren?” Your two “friends” turn their heads up to meet his eyes, and you can practically see their panties fall off.

“Yes, that’s us.” Heather adds, trying to act all sweet and innocent, but Bucky looks past that in less than a second.

“So you’re the two assholes who made Y/N cry?” Their faces form into those of realization, and Heather tries to blabber out an excuse.

“Well-”

“Well, what? I don’t see why you judge her so much when you’re wearing the fakest damn pearls anyone has ever seen!” Bucky comments, pointing to Lauren’s necklace.

“And how would you know?” She retorts, obviously thinking she’s done something.

“The paint is chipping, bitch. Also,” He states, turning towards the other woman at the table. “I really hope you didn’t pay full price for that purse, cause the logo is upside down and one brush away from flaking off.”

“At least we can afford something of value at all! She couldn’t even buy anything from the stores we shop at if she tried!” Heather says.

“I’m sorry, have you seen her house? I’m sure yours can fit inside it 10 times. And why are you so focused on money?!” He stops, taking a breath before continuing. “I’m-i’m just guessing here but I’m really not, but you buy “expensive” things to compensate for your bitchy personalities.”

“As Heather said, she can’t afford anything we buy.”

“I’m guessing you can’t either because there is so much fake and ‘made in china’ here that I can barely breathe. And while we’re talking about fake, let’s have a word about those faces, boobs, and personalities!” Lauren scoffs and that’s when you try to intervene.

“James-”

“No! I’m serious! There’s more plastic in these two than there is in the entire fucking ocean!” The man grins sarcastically and sits at the table, crossing his left leg over his right and leaning back in the chair. “So do you want me to continue pointing out your flaws in front of all these people, or are you gonna apologize to my girl?”

“Um-” Bucky doesn’t even wait for the rest of that sentence as he grabs your wrist and starts walking away.

“What about the bill?” Lauren whispers.

“I-i can pay guys.” You whisper, causing Bucky to rear back as you start reaching into your purse.

“Nonono. Apparently, you have a shitty job, and they don’t.” He turns towards the women still sitting at the table. “I’m sure you two can manage without my girlfriend.” Bucky grabs your hand again and pulls you out of the restaurant, handing you a helmet before straddling his bike.

“Thank you.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist as you sit behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell them you work for S.H.I.E.L.D?” He asks, starting up his bike.

“They’d use me to get to you or Cap.”

“Ah.”

“You-you called me your girlfriend.” You mutter, hoping he heard you over the roar of the wind. He apparently did, as he nearly slams on the brakes and pulls off into a side street.

“I did?”

“Yeah,” You whisper, tightening your arms around him.“you did.”

“Oh, well are you okay with that?” You bury your head into his back, trying to hide a wide smile.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” He speaks, turning around to still be on the bike but face you. “because you didn’t have a choice. You’re mine.” You pull your head up and look at him with a bratty glare.

“Oh am I?” You retort, grinning at him. Bucky rolls his eyes before slipping his head behind your neck, nesting his fingers in the hair at the base of your scalp as he pulls you closer. He places his other hand on your chin and tilts you head up, pulling you into a kiss that leaves you seeing stars. He pulls away with a grin on his face, both of your noses nearly touching.

“Yeah, yeah you are.” He whispers, leaning in again.

“Okay”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut @breakmy-bedbarnes @stuckys-hot-dogs @andreasworlsboring101 @yaxamarvel @donutloverxo

Just a reminder that all requests are open! My masterlist is in my bio, so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james barnes x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel comics #comics #fluff #sass

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thousandsunnywrites · 4 years

Note

How about law meeting a girl who has the same energy as Luffy and tends to touch him in some way all the time, her favorite being ridding on his back. He has long since given up trying to get her to stop, only to find out when he teams up with the straw hats she’s Luffy’s sister by blood. The oldest of Ace Sabo and Luffy.

Law

Law x f!reader; romantic

⤷ a/n: g o l l y this ficlet was a whopping 2.7k words 😭😭i really do love picking on law; also ps this isn’t proofread yet so enjoy the rawness ty

----

“traaafFFFYYYY!” He stumbles forward to balance the sudden weight tossed on his back, hands instinctively grabbing the legs wrapped around him. His life was never like this, until you came around.

It was a regular night in the submarine, Law doing his routinely watch through the sub’s finder. What the hell is that, he zoomed in to get a better view of the blurry image, hm, what is that?

He found a floating bucket under the sea with a tightly sealed lid and a hole carved on the upside with a plastic straw sticking out. Confused and hoping it was some lost gold, he made Bepo fish out the container and check it out. Instead of finding what he hoped to uncover, he discovered a limp body of a young female.

“It’s not breathing, captain! What if it’s been purposely tossed into sea... what if...” his words begin to trail off when the horrid realization of the sea being the graveyard to rest the corpse crossed his mind. He shrieked. They messed with the dead! They’re going to die! He watched too many Asian horror films to know where this is going.

Not before long, Law sighed out of annoyance, moving Bepo’s paw from the right side of the chest to the left, instantly calming down his tremors and leaving the poor bear sheepish.

Footsteps approach Law’s office and busted through the door. Low and behold, it was no other than Penguin and Shachi.

“Cap’n!! What’s wrong? We heard Bepo scream!—” Penguin tugged on Shachi’s sleeve, forcing his attention to the corpse curled in the bucket. Bepo covered both mouths before a squall was ripped from their throats, “Shh... it’s alive.”

“Room,” the iconic blue sphere encapsulates the room as Law unsheathes his Kikoku, “Scan.” The sliver glint of the sword flickered against the blue hue as it perused the physique. Producing no results, he sheathed his sword. “None” was all he could report.

“Oh thank god!” Penguin leaned over the large wooden pail, examining the face of the woman. “She’s kinda cute,” his hand reaches out to caress her cheek. “Mind if I say that I saved her?” He bantered with a sly smile.

“Move outta the way, lemme see!” Shachi shoved Penguin, an instant grin apparent inside his face.

“Stop fucking around.” Law jostled the apologetic duo to hoist majority of the body’s upper half out the bucket. “Bepo-ya, grab the feet”

“Roger!” He saluted before doing as told.

“Pen-ya, Shachi-ya,” their attentions turned to him, responding with a “Yes, boss?”, to which Law replied, “Get out.” As they left, the captain and first mate transfer the patient to the resting ward and laid her on a more comfortable bed.

“Catch some sleep, Bepo-ya.”

“What about you Captain? Who’s gonna watch her if she wakes up?”

“I will. Go ahead and sleep. Lack of sleep isn’t good for your fur.”

Bepo bowed, trusting all will go well since the captain was watching over her, and left to do as told. Meanwhile, Law pulled out a chair and raised his feet atop the bed. It was going to be a long night.

Surely, he must’ve fallen asleep because next thing he knows, he’s the one in bed and his crew bustled in the kitchen. It was a different ruckus this time; it wasn’t the same morning liveliness he knew, no, it was something more like... a party?

He made his way to the kitchen, head slightly pounding due to the loud vibrations bouncing off the walls. Swinging the kitchen door open, he’s faced with a festive bunch surrounding a stranger. Who the hell is she and how’d she infiltrate my ship?

Now on alert, he reached for his sword, preparing to attack but was stopped by his lovable white bear, who had multiple syrup stains resting on his fur. “Captain!!! Look!! She’s awake!!”

Who?

Oh yeah, the bucket girl.

“Yeah man that was suuuuperrrr crazy! I really thought I was gonna die out there!” A guffaw rumbled in the room, the crowd listening intently to what you have to say, “dude there was this big—and I mean big— whirlpool! With nowhere else to go, I just hid in a good ol’ barrel and hoped for the best.”

“Woah, you’re so cool Y/n!” The crew chanted as Law made his way through the crowd, sitting rightfully at his bench, head against his propped up hand.

“Hey, you must be the captain!” You greeted him with a hearty laugh while you reached over to the opposite side to pat his back, unintentionally thrusting his body forward with every rough pat.

“Don’t touch me,” he pulled away and dusted himself off, “I take it you’re better. Any pain?”

Completely ignoring his question, you continued, “Yeah how rude of me, I’m Y/n!!! I’m sorry for intruding so suddenly, it’s just I thought I was gonna die out there because—“

He held up a hand and finished the same sentence you said prior, “Yeah, yeah, there was a whirlpool and you thought you were gonna die, so your pea-sized brain said to stuff yourself in a barrel and hope for the best, yes, I’ve heard it earlier.” He said all in one breath. This amount of stupidity reminded him of a certain captain he was supposed to meet soon.

Instead of feeling offended, a big cackle bursted in the suddenly tense room. “I like you!” Slamming down your fist on his table as a sign of determination, he saw that same look of craze. Oh, how he could never forget that gaze.

“From here on out, I’m your crewmate now.” Cheers erupted from your mates, picking you up in rejoice to congratulate your recruitment.

“No, everyone quiet. You are not a part of my crew. Find yourself another place to loiter in. We don’t accept stowaways here.”

“Yeah no, it’s fine! I’ve been looking for a crew anyways.”

“I am captain of this ship and when I say I will toss you overboard if you insist you’re a Heart Pirate, I will toss you—”

“Y’all I’m hungry, got any food? Preferably meat, yeah?”

“Do not feed her.”

They feed you anyways despite his protests. He didn’t need another one like him on his ship, let alone in his crew.

“By the way, what’s your name Mr. Captain?” A piece of meat was ripped right off the bone. What a slob, Law grit his teeth, and as if I’ll accept her messy behavior. I’m tossing her right off the sub when she’s done.

“It’s Trafalgar Law!” Penguin chimes in, beating the captain to his own introduction. He grunts in annoyance. “Address him as Captain or doctor,” added Bepo.

“MMmmmmm,” your face twisted comically after a brief ponder, “Too boring, how ‘bout Lawsy?”

“No.”

“Trally?”

“Not a chance.”

“Gar.”

“Just shut up, I’m losing brain cells from you. Address me accordingly.”

“Okay, Traffy.” You burped as you chugged down the last of the juice.

Law could only sigh, because even if he threw you overboard, he’d still be stuck with you.

And that’s how it all circles back to Law giving you a ride on his back while walking along in the designated plaza. This is how his normal looks like nowadays. And nowadays, he doesn’t complain, even if he hates being ordered around, he just does it. His crew speculates him having only a soft spot for you, but he denies it every time. It was obvious though.

Today was the day he and Luffy agreed to meet at Dressrosa to take down that son of a bitch named Doflamingo. Everything was going as plan.

“Hey, Tra-guy!” The strawhats called putting from the other end of plaza, stirring a commotion contrasting the daily chatter of the citizens. He scans around and only sees Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky out of the troublesome gang. Where’s Luffy?

His grip tightened to hold you in place after your legs thrashed around in excitement, that never leaving irksome grin plastered on your features as always. “Stay still,” he sneered as he forced your legs to settle.

“Woah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/n,” Usopp whispered to Nami, to which she nodded in agreement.

“My, they have gotten quite close,” Robin’s chuckle was covered by her hand.

“Wow!” Franky drawled out, his stance in his usual super pose, “Since when did you two get together?” The glint of his shades gleamed as Law approached.

Law simply responded with a “Never” and carried on with discussing the plan that Luffy and most likely his crew won’t follow suit—but it was worth a shot. Hell, he didn’t even bother to explain it to you, knowing you’d do your own thing anyways like what you were trying to do now.

“Traff, Traff, Traff!” With every chant, you kicked your legs outwards to catch his attention.

“What, what, what.” He propped his arms upwards to readjust your sagging position caused by the sudden movements. The strawhats paused their chatter, noting that the stoic doctor had no sign of vexation on his face. That was a first.

“I’m hungry,” you smooshed his cheeks together. With a lilt, you asked, “Food?”

He casually nods, telling you “Later”, inattentive to the cheek smooshing and now cheek pulling. Nobody said anything, but it was obvious he had a soft spot. I mean, nobody can touch him—let alone his face— like that. If they tried, they’d be in a million pieces.

“Guys!!” The scream approached fast along with a mob of angry citizens following, “Got the meat! Now run!” The strawhat captain zoomed by, dragging the rest of his crew and allies along with him until stopping at a hidden alleyway.

During the time of escape, you hung your head down as Law transferred you from his back to his chest, face-to-face, in one swift motion, so you never caught a glimpse of the runner.

“‘Eyyyy, Tra-guy! Didn’t even notice you’re here!” The man gnawed on his meat while stuffing the leftovers into his big orange bag.

“Glad to see you too, Strawhat-ya,” he greeted back, eyes meeting with yours for a hasty second before trailing his gaze to your relaxed lips. It was intimate, seeing you close to him, bodies pressed together, arms around his neck and waist whilst his rested on the underside of your thighs. You and him always been together since the day he was held at gunpoint to recruit you, so it was normal for him to have some form of physical contact, whether it’d be hand holding to prevent you from straying away or the constant elbow hitting the back of his head while you whistled a verse or two. Giving you piggyback rides was common, so why did his heart start racing? This is what he always did, what was so different that could make him feel heated?

His chain of thoughts broke when you ripped yourself off of him to hug Luffy. “It’s been so long,” the shorter make cried, “I missed you Y/n! So nice seeing you out here! Especially with Tra-guy.” Seemingly impossible, your arms drew him tighter to you. “I missed you Luffy. God, I’m so happy to see you alive, I read all those articles. Really making big moves out there, kiddo.” Dramatic tears flowed out both his and your eyes, basking in the nostalgia and memories you shared.

To you, it was a touching moment; but to others, it was a cloud of confusion.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Usopp’s question dripping in disarray. But, their confusion was unparalleled to Law’s. That’s who you reminded him of—Luffy. He fell in love with someone who’s basically Luffy. He fell in love with Luffy’s sister. He fell in lo— no. No he’s not in love, what is he thinking?

“Huh, that’s a shocker,” Law’s lips were dry, mouth slightly agape as he watched the two monkeys hit it off.

Parting ways as the sun retired for business, Law took you to the hotel he had a reservation for. He was definitely gonna ask about Luffy. Grabbing the keys, it was a nonstop travel to the bedroom. Gotta hand it to Mingo, the bastard is a sick fck but he has some classy taste. The hotel was flooded with the natural shine of the moon, decorations silk and simple to compliment each other and the luxurious smell that was hard to miss.

Immediately upon entering the room, the first thing you checked was the fridge, searching for sweets whilst Law leaned idly against the doorframe as he watched.

“Yes, they have kinder eggs,” you shoved an egg in his field of view, “See?” He lowered your hand away from his face and ran his calloused fingers against his hair. It was a long day today, and he was tired as hell, but in this moment, all he wanted to do was to watch you.

“Want some?” Already munching on the Cadbury you found, you waved your face in front of his to break his daze.

“What?”

You simply pointed and broke off a piece to lay it against his outstretched palm.

“No wonder you seemed familiar to me,” he started, “You’re his sister.” Responding in a hum, he continued, “How did that happen? Sister by blood or by choice?”

“By blood dummy,” you popped a jawbreaker in your mouth, “We grew up together. If Ace and Sabo were being a jackass, I’d beat their ass flat. They were such bad influences! But seemingly in a good way..? They were like brothers to me too, ha, I was kinda like their mom if you really think ‘bout it,” Your mouth stopped sucking as the words you said became more and more sentimental. “I miss them. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. But I’m happy. I guess it’s just... with everything... it’s nice seeing him alive and laughing. Enjoying life. And happy! Must’ve been hard on him all by himself. Besides, I can’t bear to lose another brother, not again.”

“I understand,” naturally that was his response, being that he could empathize since he did lose a sibling, a mother, and a father—twice— because of people. The world was fucked up. No other words were exchanged, effectively ending that convo.

You dug through the multiple bottles of wine, haphazardly throwing them away to search for more candy. A set of hands joined you on this search, crouching right beside you.

“Seems like you need help.” He offered a tiny, yet genuine, smile, to which you smiled back.

After endless digging, you found a can of whip cream and laughed as you sprayed a heaping load on the doctor’s nose before running around. He chased after you, grunting and hitting his long limbs against the small obstacles you placed, and lost you after he moved said objects to clear the path. You climbed onto the wall and pounced on his back, causing him to fall down completely, the cream crushed against his pointed nose and marbled floor.

“I win,” you sat on him as he struggled like a caught spider underneath your weight.

“Okay, I concede. Get off me.”

You flipped him over so his face was towards the ceiling, which was dark after you turned off the lights, and laid back on his chest. His chest had a subtle, yet rhythmic rise to it and made you fall asleep without trying too hard. You peeped a sigh of content before snoring away.

He admired how peaceful you looked when he wasn’t busy babysitting you. The moonlight doused your features in a soft light, turning even the harsh features into something delicate like a flower. The way your lips parted to let out obnoxious snores, the way your hair is tousled in a perfectly imperfect manner, the way your eyelashes contrast your skin tone, the way how there’s something about this moonlight that makes him wanna just lean down and plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

So he does.

You barely felt it graze against yours.

His hand caressed your hair with feathery light touches and his other brushed against your cheek.

Only the moon knew about the endearing look hidden in Law’s eyes that night; it was that same endearing look that showed he was in love.

#one piece #one piece scenario #law x reader #trafalgar law #okay this was self-indulgent #Law is a simp

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reidrco · 4 years

Text

wannabe

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: tommy shelby x reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none except a few swear words.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿‘𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: this was requested some weeks ago and i had so much fun writing it, but i still don’t really like it lmao!! BUT i hope y’all like and enjoy reading it! i kinda tried to make it similar to the family meeting in the last episode of season five, but it’s still different :) sorry for any mistakes i made!

You pushed the door to the Garrison open and stepped inside the warm building, taking off your soaking wet coat immediately. It was raining like crazy outside, the cold wind leaving goosebumps all over your body. Your plan for today had been to stay at home the entire day, read a novel and drink tea, but Tommy had called for an important family meeting in the famous pub.

You knew he wouldn‘t have been mad if you hadn‘t showed up, but the relationship with his family wasn‘t the best at the moment which was why you wanted to be by his side and support him.

“I‘m never going outside again. This weather is disgusting,” you complained and walked towards your husband who stood by the fireplace, his back facing you. He turned around straightaway, relieved to see you had decided to join the family meeting. Even though he didn‘t want to show it, you could see his tensed muscles relaxing as he saw your beautiful face.

Nobody else had arrived yet, giving the two of you some alone time for a few minutes. Tommy pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body closer to his.

“You didn‘t have to come,” he reminded you and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

“But I wanted to,” you answered with a loving smile and placed your hands on his strong shoulders, looking into his blue eyes. Tommy leaned his forehead against yours, the two of you stayed silent for a few minutes, enjoying each other‘s presence in silence.

You hadn‘t spent a lot of times with Tommy the past weeks, you had been busy traying horses every day while he had stayed in his office until sunrise. Business was stressful these days and claimed all your free time which was why you treasured little moments like this the most.

“I love you,” you whispered, a huge smile, one you rarely got to see, appearing on your husband‘s face as these three words left your mouth. Even after all the years the two of you had been together, hearing you say these three magical words made his heart skip a beat.

“I‘m glad you‘re here,” Tommy confessed and left a quick kiss on your soft lips before the door opened and the rest of the Shelby family entered the pub. Sighingly you pulled away from Tommy, already missing his warm embrace, and waved at Polly who greeted you with her beautiful smile.

“Hello, lovebirds,” she grinned at the two of you and took a seat at the table, lightning a cigarette between her red lips. Tommy ignored her teasing nickname and drew his attention back to you, reaching out to interwine his fingers with yours.

You squeezed his hand slightly as you suddenly noticed the blonde American goddess, Gina, stepping inside the pub with her husband. You couldn‘t help but roll your eyes, already annoyed by her unnecessary presence.

Gina and you haven‘t had the best start. Michael had introtuced you to her at the latest family dinner, but you had been a tiny bit tipsy already and unable to control the words leaving your mouth. You had apologised for calling her Michael‘s exclusive whore a hundred times, but Gina was stubborn like crazy. She had let you feel her anger every time your paths crossed and you were sure she would do so today again.

You watched the rest of the family sitting down at the table as well, greeting everyone with a kind smile. Well except Gina and Michael, but they didn‘t seem to care anyway.

“Ignore them,” Tommy whispered in your ear, bringing you back to reality with a kiss on your cheek. You simply notted and sat down on the chair next to Polly, focusing on your husband.

“First of all, thank you for coming,” Tommy said truthfully and forced himself to put a weak smile on his lips which caused Polly to raise an eyebrow and chuckle clearly amused by his action. You nudged her softly with your elbow, but couldn‘t hide your grin either.

Your husband cleared his throat, fishing for his cigarettes in his pocket impatiently while looking through the little growd of people at the table in front of him.

“Also, Congratulation to Michael and Gina,” he continued speaking, “They‘re expecting their first child.”

Everyone started clapping and cheering, yelling their congratulations at the married couple excitedly. Tommy had told you about Gina‘s pregnancy already which was why you weren‘t really surprised, a part of you feeling bad for the unborn child who would be raised by these two egoists.

“Well, thank you very much, Thomas,” the American woman put her most beautiful fake smile on, placing her hand on top of Michael‘s on the wooden table, “It‘s not like you‘ll ever get to see my baby anyway, but we really appreciate your… uncommon kindness.”

You couldn‘t help but roll your eyes at her provocating answer, but your husband didn‘t seem to be bothered by it, but Polly definitely was.

“What do you mean?” she asked confused, her eyes fixed on her son who exhaled the air in his lungs sharply, feeling very uncomfortable.

“Michael and I are taking the baby to America,” Gina explained before her husband had the chance to say a single word, “And the family business too.“

Everyone in the room stared at the young woman speechlessly, unable to believe anything she had just said. You nearly choked on your own saliva as you realised what Gina was trying to say in that moment.

This had to be a bad joke. A very bad one.

You didn‘t dare to look at Tommy, because you knew he wouldn‘t say anything right away even though his anger was probably exploding inside him. Gina looked at all the confused faces around the table, still wearing the lovely fake smile on her red lips.

“Oh, you didn‘t tell them yet, honey?” she acted surprised, looking back at her husband and pretending to be disappointed. Michael‘s eyes met her‘s, silently begging her to stop. He was clearly uncomfortable.

“I mean... you can tell them now, right? Since everyone is here today,” she suggested and leaned back in her chair, waiting for her husband to say something. You drew your attention to Tommy who hadn‘t said a word and still managed to stay calm, his blue eyes fixed on Michael.

Polly‘s once innocent son cleared his throat and got up from his chair, taking a deep breathe.

“Tommy,” he started nervously, “I came up with a plan to expand the family business in America. It‘s clear that this company needs to be restructured and I‘d like to take it in my own hands. With the help of my wife and her family obviously.”

You couldn‘t hold back a sarcastic laugh and rolled your eyes clearly annoyed by Michael‘s proposal, gaining everyone‘s attention in seconds, but they all stayed silent.

“I didn‘t know you and your lovely wife were in a position to suggest business plans after losing thousands of dollars in the States, but of course, Michael, go on. We have a lot of trust in you after all, don‘t we?” unlike your husband, you couldn‘t stay very calm when someone got on your nerves. Especially not when that someone was Michael. Or Gina.

Polly‘s son looked at you slightly taken aback, not knowing what to say for a brief second before he collected himself and continued talking.

“I already talked to men from Detroit and New York who would be interested in the Opium we‘re going to ship to America from now on and they would love to make a deal with me. This could be our main source of money every month,” he said with a lot of confidence he had surprisingly gained in the past seconds.

“Nearly twenty million dollar. Every month,” his wife added proudly, “More money your dirty hands have ever touched and all you have to do is sit back and let us do the work.“

Impatiently you looked at your husband who didn‘t seem very impressed, waiting for him to finally say something and stop their talking about their absurd wish. But he stayed silent, his eyes traveling around the room. It was clear that he wasn‘t very interested in this topic.

“Since Michael has finished his wonderful speech now, I‘d like to explain our next steps regarding-...,” Tommy finally spoke but didn‘t get to finish his sentence because of Michael who interrupted him unpolitely.

“This is your opportunity to take a break, buy a house by the sea and horses you can train,” he tried his very best to convince Thomas and everyone else in the room from his terrible plan.

“Everyone with a working brain wouldn‘t say no to such an offer, but it‘s hard to think logically when you come from a family with no education, isn‘t it?” Gina smiled at your husband innocently, knowning exactly how provocating her words were, but you wouldn‘t listen to her voice another second.

You rose from your seat and walked over to where Michael‘s wife was sitting, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you looked down into her eyes, but Tommy started talking again before you could say anything.

“You had your chance, Michael, and you fucked up. Nobody asked for your opinion, nobody wanted to hear anything about your plan, because nobody cares about the shit that comes out of your mouth. I‘m the fucking boss and if you think you‘re the fucking king of the castle here, please, do all of us a favour and fuck off to America,” his voice was calm, but you could see the anger burning in his eyes.

“Same goes for you, Blondie, and if you haven‘t left this fucking pub in the next two minutes I will drag you outside by your cheap pearl earings,” your attention was back on Gina now. “Oh and maybe someone in America will teach you in which situations you better keep your mouth shut.”

In this moment you wished you could kill her with your bare hands or at least slap her in the face, but you didn‘t, turning around and walking towards your husband instead. Not a single family member dared to say anything while waiting for the disliked couple to leave.

Tommy wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him, pressing a loving kiss on your forehead. He didn’t know why but he loved it when you put other people in their place, making him feel proud. A part of him thought it was extremely sexy and he wished he could take you right there on the table, but for now he had to stop getting distracted by his unholy thoughts.

His cousin and Gina still didn‘t move and hoped for support from Polly or maybe even Finn, but they only gained disappointed and annoyed glances. They slowly started to realise that nobody wanted to have them at this meeting.

Tommy cleared his throat and looked down on the expensive watch which he had taken out of his pocket, raising an eyebrow. One minute had almost past.

“Go, Michael. We‘ll talk later,” you could hear the anger Polly felt in her voice as she spoke, wanting this embarassing situation to end. And even after all Michael wouldn‘t disobey his mother, nodding slightly and taking his wife‘s hand in his. He ignored her protests completely as he dragged her in the direction of the door. Somehow he would change his family‘s minds, but obviously not today.

“For fuck‘s sake, Gina, was that really necessary?” he hissed angrily before slamming the door shut after they had stepped outside. A relieved sigh left your mouth when they had finally left.

“Would anyone else like to tell me what to do or may I talk now?” your husband asked clearly annoyed, but nobody was brave enough to answer him. Tommy continued talking after a short moment of silence, explaining his family the reason for this meeting.

You were glad Michael and Gina were gone now, not missing their presence at all, but you knew Michael‘s plan wasn‘t off the table for him yet and he would continue being a pain in the ass along with the blonde goddess by his side.

𝘁𝗮𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @sweetgoodangel

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine

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