#(she has Mixed Feelings. She [heart emoji] her mom but she's not so sure her mom feels the same way with the whole serial killer thing.)

[bllsbailey]

Michelle Obama Calls on the Ancestors and Brings the Sister Vibe to the DNC

Looks like a man, Talks like a man, Walks like a man, Gotta be a man.😁

Love her or hate her, one thing you can say about former First Lady Michelle Obama is that she is comfortable in her own skin. One cannot say the same for the candidate she is advocating for. Which is why it is a genius move on the part of the Obamas to bring their vibe of "Hopium" and manufactured optimism and apply it to Kamala Harris. This is exactly what Michelle Obama did in her speech on Night 2 of the Democrat National Convention.

Obama is a native daughter of Chicago, and the partner to the last successful Democrat president. She is popular and beloved among her people, and this was expressed in the rousing applause and cheers. Obama made gentle motions to get the audience to quiet down.

Thank you guys. Okay. We got a big night ahead. Thank you all so much. Thank you so much. Hello, Chicago!  Yeah... all right. Something... Something wonderfully magical is in the air, isn't it? Yeah... You know, we're feeling it here in this arena, but it's spreading all across this country we love. A familiar feeling that's been buried too deep for far too long. You know what I'm talking about! It's the contagious power of "Hope." The anticipation, the energy, the exhilaration of once again being on the cusp of a brighter day. The chance to vanquish the demons of fear, division, and hate that have consumed us and continue pursuing the unfinished promise of this great nation. The dream that our parents and grandparents fought and died and sacrificed for.  America, hope is making a comeback!

No doubt Obama and Hillary Clinton compared notes. Just like Clinton, Obama's speech invoked this deceptive aura of "change happening," and then evoked the wisdom and weight of the ancestors. In Obama's case, she brought in the heritage of her own lineage and the lessons her mother taught her. A mother who had recently passed away. 

But, to be honest, I am realizing that until recently I have mourned the dimming of that hope. And maybe you've experienced the same feelings. That deep pit in my stomach. A palpable sense of dread about the future. And for me, that mourning has also been mixed with my own personal grief. The last time I was here in my hometown was to memorialize my mother. The woman who showed me the meaning of hard work and humility and decency. The woman who set my moral compass high and showed me the power of my own voice. Folks, I still feel her loss so profoundly. I wasn't even sure if I would be steady enough to stand before you tonight. But my heart compelled me to be here because of the sense of duty I feel to honor her memory. 

The Democrats are exceptionally good at evoking all the feels. Who can argue with the memory of a beloved mother? Obama immediately built a bridge and took the goodwill people already had toward her and manipulated it. Obama used the lessons from her now dead mother to weave deceptive falsehoods not only about herself and Barack Obama, but more importantly, about Kamala Harris. This speech, and the entirety of Night 2, frankly, was all about the reimagination and reinvention of Kamala Harris.

This is what Democrats do, and they do it well. 

Obama continued,

And to remind us all not squander the sacrifices our elders made to give us a better future. You see, my mom in her steady, quiet way lived out that striving sense of hope every single day of her life. She believed that all children, all people have value. That anyone can succeed if given the opportunity. She and my father didn't aspire to be wealthy. In fact, they were suspicious of folks who took more than they needed. 

<insert *eyeroll* emoji> Anyone paying attention for the last 10-15 years or so knows that the Obamas have been the biggest conspicuous consumers. They almost put the Clintons to shame. Like that $11.75 million Martha's Vineyard home they purchased in 2020, the book deals, the Netflix deal, not to mention the taxpayer-funded presidential pension. Maybe Obama's mother was suspicious of her own daughter and son-in-law, because they are the poster children of taking more than what they needed.

They understood that it wasn't enough for their kids to thrive if everyone around us was drowning. So, my mother volunteered at the local school. She always looked out for the other kids on the block. She was glad to do the thankless, unglamorous work that for generations has strengthened the fabric of this nation. The belief that if you, "Do unto others," if you "love thy neighbor," if you work and scrape and sacrifice, it will pay off, if not for you, then maybe for your children or your grandchildren. 

Thanks to the damage done by the Obama-Biden administration years ago, and the Biden-Harris administration now, working, scraping, and sacrifice cannot even buy your groceries or pay your rent, let alone buy a house or pay for your children's or grandchildren's future. These people created the very policies that are destroying Americans’ ability to do this, yet they successfully drape themselves in a cloak of benevolence and good will, pretending that Republicans are the problem and more government is the solution.

You see, those values have been passed on through family farms and factory towns. Through tree-lined streets and crowded tenements. Through prayer groups, and national guard units and social studies classrooms. Those were the values my mother poured into me until her very last breath.

Here is the Democrat sleight-of-hand. Obama dovetailed the values instilled in her by her mother, and connected them to the values Kamala Harris' mother instilled in her. Look! Kamala is just like us!

It was dazzlingly brilliant, and nauseating all at once.  

Kamala Harris and I built our lives on those same foundational values. Even though our mothers grew up an ocean apart, they shared the same belief in the promise of this country.

This is the same woman who in 2008 said, "for the first time in my adult lifetime, I am really proud of my country — and not just because Barack has done well, but because I think people are hungry for change." Guess whatever the America she envisioned suddenly materialized after her husband was elected twice. The money to live the lush life certainly did. Our opportunity to live that same lush life? Well, sucks to be you.

That's why her mother moved here from India at 19. That's why she taught Kamala about justice. About the obligation to lift others up. About our responsibility to give more than we take. She'd often tell her daughter, "Don't sit around and complain about things. Do something." So, with that voice in her head, Kamala went out and she worked hard in school, graduating from an HBCU, earning her law degree at a state school. 

Howard University is considered an elite school in the HBCU, and the University of California Hastings School of Law is one of the Ivy League schools of the West. So, there is a ton of elitism in these choices with no meritocracy to be found. Hastings School of Law is also one of the schools where people don't actually learn a love or skill for the law; what they learn is judicial activism. Obama conveniently leaves this out, along with the fact that Berkeley and Montreal, Canada, the places where Kamala Harris was raised, are veritable hotbeds of communism.

And then she went on to work for the people, fighting to hold lawbreakers accountable, strengthening the rule of law. Fighting to get folks better wages, cheaper prescription drugs, a good education, decent healthcare, childcare, elder care. From a middle class household Kamala worked her way up to become Vice President of the United States of America! 

Willie Brown would like a word. There is so much left out of this that has been well documented in these pages. Sadly, the DNC audience is already enraptured by the fiction Obama has weaved, so they continue to swallow it hook, line, and sinker.

My girl, Kamala Harris, is more than ready for this moment. She is one of the most qualified people to ever seek the office of the presidency. And, she is one of the most dignified. A tribute to your mother, to my mother, and to your mother too. The embodiment of the stories we tell ourselves about this country. Her story is your story. It's my story. It's the story of the vast majority of Americans trying to live a better life. 

"The stories we tell ourselves about this country..." interesting turn of phrase. Not the stories of our country's founding and the people of all races, colors, creeds who made it possible, but a fiction that we weave until we can make it so. Like there are 57 genders, men can get pregnant, and a three-year-old can choose their own gender.

Look, Kamala knows, like we do that regardless of where you come from, what you look like, who you love, how you worship, or what's in your bank account, we all deserve the opportunity to build a decent life. All of our contributions deserve to be accepted and valued. Because no one has a monopoly on what it means to be an American. No one.

Ahh, therein lies the rub, and here is where the BS meter got turned to 11. After Obama said:

Kamala has shown her allegiance to this nation, not by spewing anger and bitterness. But by living a life of service. And always pushing the doors of opportunity open to others.

Now Jamal Trulove, Caramad Conley, and Cheree Peoples would like a word and the years that they lost after being wrongfully imprisoned under Kamala Harris' watch.

This is where the Obamas cannot help themselves. Ultimately it all becomes class grievance and hatred of the other wrapped in the pretty package of concern for the marginalized and care of the community. It's cheap, disingenuous, and manipulative.

And sadly, so many will continue to fall for it. Obama ended her speech with a return to the Halcyon Hopium days of Barack and Michelle.

Our fate is in our hands. In 77 Days, we have the power to turn our country from the fear, division, and smallness of the past. We have the power to marry our hope with our action. We have the power to pay forward the love, sweat, and sacrifice of our mothers, and fathers, and all those who came before us. We did it before ya'll, and we sure can do it again. Let us work like our lives depend on it. And let us keep moving our country forward, and go higher—yes, always higher than we've ever gone before as we elect the next president and vice president of the United States, Kamala Harris and Tim Walz!  

Michelle Obama introduced her husband Barack Obama to put the icing on that Hopium cake. 

[radioconstructed]

⌖ This WAS supposed to be about the horrid custom Allegra Chicken socks + Margielas, but I’m FLOORED by how much I look like my MOTHER! <3

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[heart-strong]

The Anniversary

Summary: Spencer yells at transphobes for his kid that came out a year ago today.

WC: 1.1k

TW: transphobia, gross cishet white men (Rossi and Kevin) dead name mentioned but not actually said (ex: he deadnamed me, you deadnamed them) angry spencer swearing (let me know if I missed anything)

Spencer Reid/ Fem!Reader and enby kid

AN: So this was supposed to be the prompt "Father is asked whether their child is a boy or a girl continuously (and refuses to answer because it's no one's beeswax)" but I kinda got carried away and then kept it. This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Fathers Day fic challenge!

This is for the kids/ people that have parents that don’t except them no matter how they identify. I love you. ❤️

read on ao3

not beta read.

———————

It's Friday afternoon, and Spencer is watching the clock as it ticks down hoping a case doesn’t come up when his trusty satchel starts vibrating on the floor.

“Hello, this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he answers.

“Honey, do you even check the caller ID?” you answer, laughing at your husband's formal greeting.

“No. What's up darling, I’ve got one more hour until I'm free and we don’t have a case.”

“That's great!”

“Hey Reid,” your husband quickly turns around and looks to his unit chief. You can hear the rustle of his hair against the speaker. “I’m so sorry but we got a case.”

You can hear the news yourself. Shoulders slumping and looking across the table to your child Rowen.

“Hotch,” Spencer whines. “It's Rowen’s one year, are you serious?”

“I’m so sorry,” Hotchner shouts back as you reach for Rowen’s hand, tears already forming in your baby's eyes.

“(y/n) I’m sorry. Can you put Rowen on the phone?” Spencer sounds so defeated.

“Oh yeah here they are.” you hand the phone to the 13-year-old across from you. “It's your daddy, he wants to talk to you.”

Rowen grabs the phone, “Hi daddy.” they say meekly.

“Rowen, I am so freaking sorry I was so excited to celebrate with you and mommy tonight.”

“I understand, at least I got to have breakfast with you this morning.”

“Yeah, we had a great breakfast. I want you to know that you are so amazing and brave and I need you to know how great my life is with you in it. Seriously, the day your mommy told me she was pregnant I knew that I was going to have the best kid ever and I do.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

“No problem. I know you're just a kid, but you are the reason I do this. I am going to protect you until the day I die; you and your mom, I love you, and happy anniversary baby.”

“I love you too. Thank you, daddy. Can I ask you something?

“Yeah what is it?”

And the next thing that comes out of your child's mouth breaks both yours and Spencer's hearts.

“Can you tell Rossi and Kevin I don't have a gender again? Auntie Penny called and Kevin was with her so he asked me what the anniversary was for then said my dead name and that I’m just confused.”

Spencer wanted to kill Kevin Lynch with his bare hands. “Rowen, you are not confused and I will talk to him. Did he say this on the phone or did you just hear him asking Pen?”

“He just asked Penny and I don’t think she thought I heard. But I did daddy.” a sniffle. Spencer was fuming.

“Okay and I’ll also talk to Rossi. I haven't had to in a while but if it will make you feel better I will. Anything for you.”

“He texted me, ‘I don’t really understand all this but I think your dad would kill me if I didn’t say happy anniversary.”

“Are you serious? Rowen, baby can I talk to your mom. I love you very much.” Spencer heard the small ‘thanks’ and then the phone being passed off. “Did you know?”

“I didn’t know about Kevin, but they showed me the text.”

“Permission to deck both of them?”

“Please don’t get in a fight Spencer Reid.”

“But I want to.”

“You know your best weapon is your words.” you hear Spencer breathing deep. “Plus the image I have of you at work is that video JJ showed me when you were presenting a profile and you had to keep pulling your pants up because your gun was too heavy for your belt.”

“You know I switched to a revolver after that video got leaked.”

“Yes, but that was funny.”

“I’m glad. Does Rowan need anything? I can send a cake or books or something to make up for this.”

“No, the four you got them already is perfect.”

“Okay, put me on speaker then.” you move the phone on the table in between yourself and Rowan. “Alright, my loves, I’m off, don't worry about anything. I’ll talk to those two, and I will be home as soon as possible.”

“Love you, daddy.”

“Love you, Spence.”

Spencer hangs up the phone and grabs his satchel. Then runs into the round table room where the rest of the team was flipping through files.

“Pen, get your fucking boyfriend in here.” the satchel slams onto the table as Spencer yells.

“Um, Sure thing, Boy Wonder.” Penelope exists with a face mixed with terror and confusion. Spencer only swore if necessary, or he was angry enough.

“Whoa, kid, calm down.” Fucking Rossi, “what’s wrong with Lynch.”

“You know what, Rossi, shut the fuck up.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says in a tone that was only made to reprimand.

“Hey, everyone, I was summoned?” Kevin fucking Lynch, Spencer thought as the man entered with the most smart ass smirk.

“You and Rossi,” Spencer points at the two men, “Have lost talking privileges with my child! You two refuse to acknowledge their gender identity, and even worse Kevin, you dead named them and they heard! Of all days!”

“Now, Spencer.” Rossi stood up walking to him.

“No, Rossi, Rowan is my child, and I need to protect them. So what are you going to say? That gender is binary? That gender is genitalia? Because that is so fucking backward and disgusting because they are my child and you saying that you only wished them a happy anniversary so that I could be happy is awful! What about Rowan's feelings?”

The room was silent. When Spencer threw a party for Rowen a year ago a few days after they told their parents everyone came. Everyone but Rossi, sighting a new recipe gone wrong and getting food poisoning as why. Then he showed up the next day to work perfectly fine and they all realized they were working with a transphobe.

“That's what I thought. And Penny, please dump this man. I had to hear my baby say that he dead named them on the anniversary of them coming out.”

“Already done this morning!” she’s beaming. Spencer brushes off Emily shooting her head up and shocked face towards the pansexual and gorgeous Penelope Garcia.

“Great.” Spencer picked up the file and satchel. “Now Aaron, I am going home to my wife and child because those two made them cry. I will consult from home.”

Aaron nodded his approval and gestured for Spencer to exit.

Just as he arrived at the threshold, he turned around, staring right at Rossi. “ and I am 36; I have a wife and kid. Stop calling me ‘kid’.” and ran out the door, down the stairs, and out the doors of the BAU.

Waiting for the elevator, Spencer takes out his phone from his back pocket, he pulls up the group message titled “ The Lights of my Life ” and sends the message ‘I’m going to consult from home’. By the time he arrives at the bus station, he has gotten hundreds of heart emojis.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Not a Baby: Nat and Chris (And Ronnie)

CW: The first part is pure fluff with a couple underage drinking references/jokes. Second part references the events of Chris getting appendicitis (One, Two, Three, Four) and takes place while he is healing from surgery. Includes surgery references, whumpee rejecting medication, medical trauma references

Sometimes, you just want bittersweet fluff lined with angst.

-

“You gotta help me out,” Tristan sings along with the radio as they wait at a red light, Ronnie furtively checking her phone. “It’s all a blur last ni-eee-eye-ee-ight…”

One message from Paul, just now out of bed after a longer-than-usual workday had fully wiped him out, thanking her for leaving some food in the fridge. She smiles, faintly, at the sight of the little heart emojis he leaves after every single text. 

He’s not much for showing emotion in his face, not like Tristan wears his own feelings on his sleeve, but he knows how to make sure Ronnie feels loved. He always has.

The light turns green, and she taps on the gas, then lets her foot slowly press down. Next to her, Tristan dances in his seat, totally unselfconscious, rocking back and forth. 

“We need a taxi, ‘cause you’re hungover and I’m broke…”

Ronnie starts laughing, one hand over her mouth, the other still on the wheel.

He blinks, turning to look at her. They just clipped his hair short last week, getting him ready for the next competition coming up. She never expected to be a Gymnastics Mom, not once, but here she is, chaperoning her teenage son to the gym on a Saturday afternoon, where he more or less lives these days. “What?”

“I just. It’s something else to listen to your teenage son sing about being hungover, Tris. That’s all. You’re way too young for this song. And probably just for Katy Perry in general, not that anyone should listen to-”

“Mom.” Tristan rolls his eyes, leaning over and pointedly turning the volume up on the radio. “I like Katy Perry. And I, I, I know what hungover is. I’m not, not, not, not-... not-not four years old. I’m fifteen.”

“Fair enough, but I don’t think my fifteen-year-old should know about being hungover, either.” She takes a turn, the radio cheerfully blaring that’s what you get for waking up in Vegas and she wonders why she keeps letting Tris pick the radio station, exactly, when they could be listening to some perfectly fine soft rock right about now. “What do you get up to at Aki’s, huh? Maybe I need to speak to Aimi. Ask if you’re having wild parties as soon as I leave.”

“Oh my god, Mom.” Tristan turns bright red, and she tries not to enjoy how much he’s his father’s son - always but especially when he blushes, the red seeming to make the scattering of pale freckles stand out even more, not less, when he does. “You are, are not going to-... we don’t drink, Mom. We just, just watch shows and… hang out.”

“I know, baby,” Ronnie says, laughter still edging her voice. “I’m teasing you, that’s all.”

He glares out the windshield where he sits next to her, running his fingers up and down the smooth seatbelt, along its edge. Back and forth, enjoying the mix of silk and rough in the texture, she thinks. 

“I’m not a, a, a, a baby,” He mumbles, all teenage resentment and irritation. 

“Oh, honey. That’s the downside of having parents,” Ronnie says, gentling her voice down to affection, taking another turn. She can see the gym now, down at the end of the street. Aimi will probably already be here with Aki, she figures, and maybe they can make a coffee run while the boys practice. “It doesn’t matter how old you get. You could be fifty and I could be sixty-seven and I’d still see you wrapped in that hospital blanket looking up at me with big eyes. Even when we’re both old, you’ll still be my baby.”

He rolls his eyes again, but this time she catches the hint of a smile he’s trying to hide pulling at one side of his mouth. Tristan leans forward and switches the radio station over to Ronnie’s favorite, then falls back into his seat, focusing on the seatbelt again.

Sometimes, like his father, he doesn’t know how to say he loves her, but he always knows how to show it.

-

Two and a half years later

Nat came down for a glass of water, only to find Chris wide awake on the couch at 3 am, top teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip she was afraid he’d draw blood, making his slow, careful, shuffling way towards the stairs.

She’d managed to convince him to go back to the couch, or really more or less command him, but the trade-off was promising she’d stay downstairs with him for a while.

Now, instead of water she has a mug of hot tea steaming gently on the side table, instead of her warm bed she has Chris’s head resting on a pillow in her lap while she runs fingers slowly through his hair - dark red in the night, lit with a hint of silver by the reflected light coming off the television - and instead of dreams, she has reruns of Frasier.

“You palmed your pain medication earlier, didn’t you?” She asks the question as gently as she can, without judgement.

He doesn’t answer, green eyes locked on the television, where the main character’s younger brother is preparing for a date and managing to set an ironing board on fire in the process. It’s probably one of the best scenes in television history, but Nat can’t even begin to pay attention to it. Worry has her all twisted up, heart beating a little too fast, as she picks up her mug and takes a sip, honey and lemon and yes, a little bit of whiskey in her tea all settling over her tongue. 

“Chris,” She says, softly. “I asked you a question.”

“Mmmhmm,” is all he says, and he doesn’t move. His head is a soft weight against her leg, and his hair runs like silk through her fingers. He’s pale not just from the darkness and the late-night TV, but from the pain he must be in, must be holding back.

Of course, there’s no one who has come through her house who hasn’t been pretty good at hiding pain, after a while. Once you’re drowned in it, once it’s your everyday truth, you learn not so much to actually hide it as simply to go on living with it. 

No one Chris’s age should already be so good at this.

“You have to take those, or you’re going to hurt like this all the time for a while,” Nat says, trying to keep from lecturing him. His freckles stand out more, lit by the cool blue-tinged light of TV. She watches him smile, just a little, at the slapstick comedy going on. “It’ll take longer for your incision to heal if you-”

“Don’t, don’t like pills,” Chris whispers, and she watches one of his hands, palm flat, running up and down the heavy weighted blanket she’s laid over him. It’s soft as rabbit fur, and he starts to hum, nearly a whisper, as he touches it. “Jake’s gone. Out. Didn’t… didn’t want them.”

Nat takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “Chris, you can’t only take pills when Jake is here to give them to you. He can’t always be here, he has things he does outside of this house-”

“I know. But… I didn’t want them. I, I, I don’t mind hurting a little.”

The funny thing is, it’s not bluster. He really doesn’t. Chris would really rather lay here, awake in the middle of the night, in terrible pain than simply put two pills into his mouth and wash them down with water. There’s been too much done to him with drugs, and he’s not the only one she’s had to help recover the idea of medicine as something other than torture.

He’ll get there.

She hopes.

“Okay, well… where did you put them?”

There’s silence, again, but this time he shifts a little, a flash of his hurt and discomfort across his expression. “In, in the couch cushions.”

“Do you have any of your other doses in there?”

“... mmhmm.”

“Chris…” She sighs, putting her hand up to her forehead, rubbing her fingers just above the bridge of her nose as the tension starts to build behind her eyes. Oh, her head’s going to hurt soon. She can’t just be up at night like she used to without paying for it the next day. “How many have you skipped? Huh?”

“... four.”

“Four. Four times-... okay.” She exhales, slowly - he’s tense under her hand, now, and she can feel the worry in him. Knows he’s trying to figure out if he’ll be in trouble, get punished. Disciplined for the ways he’s learned to live with what happened to him.

A different kind of test than what he’s tried on Jake, but it’s still a test.

“Chris. I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to have to sit here and watch you and see you swallow them. I know that it’s hard for you, I do, and I’m so sorry that we have to do this, but I have to take care of you. I want to take care of you. And part of that is making sure you know how to care for yourself. When you’re recovering from serious surgery-”

“The, the, the, the cut’s not even that big,” He mutters, a hint of irritation. 

Nat feels a surge of affection for him that, if she were standing, would nearly knock her off her feet. Chris interrupting her, Chris being pouty and sulky and every inch a seventeen-year-old boy, is a new thing. She doesn’t take it for granted.

It’s just… a little inconvenient right now.

“It doesn’t matter how big it is. It went all the way inside your stomach, and it was a pretty serious surgery. You need these pills or you are going to hurt like hell for so much longer than if you take them and get better. You got it?”

He sighs, but relaxes against her again, and she starts running fingers through his hair again, simple and maternal. “Yeah. I, I do.”

“Okay. Let’s watch the show and see if maybe you’re up for taking your dose and heading back to sleep in a bit, huh?”

“Will you, you, you stay? Even if I-... even if I do, and fall asleep?” He twists a little to look up her and winces as it pulls the still-tender muscles in his abdomen. “Will you stay?”

Nat thinks about how badly her back’s going to hurt in the morning. The headache already trying to sneak its way in around the edges. How she’s going to end up napping half the day away and not getting a damn thing done she had planned.

Then she just smiles down at him, at his wide green eyes in his narrow face and the heavy blanket hiding every other inch of him in softness and warmth. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay right here with you, ‘til Ant’s up in the morning. How’s that sound?”

“Good. See if you can get comfortable for a bit.”

The two of them fall back into an easy silence, broken only by the low-volume of the TV show, and get through two more episodes of Frasier before Nat’s tea is gone and she and Chris are both half-asleep on the couch, her hand simply resting on his hair, now, light but ever-present. 

Eyes closed, the television’s cool blue still dancing against the inside of her eyelids, she hears Chris mumble, “Night, Nat,” in a sleep-slurred voice. It’s got to be four in the morning, there’s not much night left.

“Night, baby,” Nat murmurs.

“Not a, a baby, Mom,” Chris whispers, but both of them are too close to sleep to notice.

-

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump @outofangband

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: All Eyes On You {One-Shot}***

Lewis Tan x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUTTT, DO NOT READ AT WORK!!

Words: 4.1k

Summary: Hmmmm, Naaaaah!  🙃

Note: You all have Brandie, @night-of-the-living-shred​ to thank for this oh and Lewis’ thirst trappin’ ass.

 ***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Mildly Interactive***

 You couldn’t believe it had been three months. Three freaking months since you’d physically been able to touch him. Three months since you’d felt his fingertips graze your skin. Three months since you’d felt his lips on yours. Three months since you’d tasted the delicate mix of sea salt, vanilla, and spice, that was his skin. Three months since you’d felt his arms around you as you came awake every morning. Three months since you’d smelled him. Three months too long.

You loved that he had a career he enjoyed and took pride in. Loved that this career was finally beginning to show him the same love and attention he’d shown it for years, but that also meant you spent a lot more time without him in your bed and a lot more time being your own company and best friend, outside of the company and friends you had. It was often lonely, but you’d been together for almost two years now and had developed a working regiment that combated the loneliness.

 Staring at the message exchange between you and Lewis had your belly filling with butterflies all over again.

 MSG My Heart: Guess who’s coming home a whole week early?

MSG: Don’t play with me, Lewis.

MSG My Heart: I don’t play about coming home to my queen.

MSG: Oh my god. Really? Babe? When? Oh my god.

MSG My Heart: LOL. I love that you’re so excited.

MSG: You’re kidding. Do you know how long it’s been?

MSG My Heart: Three months, fourteen days, ten hours, eighteen minutes, and thirty seconds. I know just how long it’s been.

MSG: Melt my heart.

MSG My Heart: That’s not all I plan on melting.

 The row of emojis was what sent you to the grave. You were practically still quivering from anticipation, and this was yesterday.

 “All finished.”

 You sat up and thanked Lucy, your wax lady who’d just made you a completely smooth again. When Lewis was away, you kept things tidy, but there was no need to get all extravagant. Today, you went all out, and that included a little surprise below the belt.

 “Thank you, Lucy. Same card on file, please.”

 “You got the full special. Does this mean boyfriend is back in town?”

 You giggled. It was a shame she knew the drill. As she ran your credit card, you endured her teasing and salacious suggestions on how to properly welcome Lewis home so he wouldn’t dare think of leaving again. By the time you walked out of the salon, your face was red hot from embarrassment. As you got into your car, you ran down the to-do list you’d made at five this morning.

 Hair, Eyebrow Threading, nails, feet, wax, shop.

 Somehow you’d managed to get through all of the list, except the shopping part, and it wasn’t even three in the afternoon. Lewis’s flight didn’t come in until five. The plan was for him to come home, and the two of you would go to dinner, but you planned on surprising him at the airport. You were that anxious to see him.

 As you were in the midst of getting ready to go to surprise him at the airport, your phone rang.

 “Hello?”

 “Guess who is officially in the same state as you?”

 “Baby?”

 “That’s right. I landed forty minutes ago.”

 Your head snapped to the clock. It wasn’t even five o’clock.

 “Baby, you said five.”

 “I know, look, I thought it would be too but looks like even time and space wanted us to be together.”

 You remembered the first time he said those words to you. They did the same thing now as they did almost two years ago—made your heart skip a beat.

 “I just wanted to give you a heads up before I walked in the door,” Lewis added. That was when you heard a car door shut.

 “Thank you, have a good one.”

 Sensing something was going on, you perked up. As you walked to the window of your bedroom, your phone chime for the Ring went off, indicating someone had tripped the sensor.

 “Lew, baby, is that--.”

 “Honey, I’m home. Come to daddy.”

 A scream escaped you before you dropped your phone and ran out of the bedroom.

 “Slow down.”

 Ignoring his warning, you barreled down the stairs and through your home. For the first time, you regretted signing the contract on this mammoth of a house. You should have stuck to your guns when Lewis said it was perfect, and you mentioned it was only going to be the two of you in a house meant for six people. His rebuttal—then we’ll fill it up with some kids. Once he said that you happily signed the contract right beside his name.

After way too long, you found him in the foyer at the front door, and that was when you picked up speed.

 “Baby!”

Lewis opened his arms and waited for you to leap into them. Once you did, you wrapped your legs around his back and crashed your lips to his. It had been three months since you’d been kissed, and it was long overdue. Eagerly you dipped your tongue into his mouth, hoping to show him just how excited you were to see him. Lewis moaned then turned your body to press you onto the dark wooden door.

 “I missed you so much,” you panted out in between kisses.

 “I missed you more.”

 Feeling as if there were too many barriers between you, you began peeling them off one by one. His jacket dropped to the floor within seconds. Then came his polo that you peeled off of him. with him bare chest, you allowed your fingers to reacquaint with his skin. Lewis must have felt the same way because the tee-shirt you wore, his tee-shirt was gone a few seconds after your nails scraped his back. Realizing you didn’t have on a bra, his eyes feasted on your flesh.

 “Welcome home to me, indeed.”

 You snorted and shook your head before wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him some more. Lewis carried you through your home until he’d laid you onto the extra-large sectional couch. On lazy days this was where the two of you always ended up just cuddling, watching TV, or just chatting. Lewis pressed kiss after kiss onto your neck, collar, and chest before he rested his head in between your breasts and moaned.

 “Mmmm, I missed your skin,” he muttered.

 You lazily played with his midnight locks taking your time to graze his scalp with your nail tips.

 “I missed your smell,” you replied, inhaling deeply, allowing the scent that was all him to envelope you.

 Lewis turned his head and kissed your sternum before trailing down your belly. When he kissed your pelvis over your leggings, he moaned.

 “I canceled that dinner.”

 “What?”

“I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but when my mom texted me to confirm she kind of let it slip,” he admitted.

 You snorted, then laughed. It echoed through the first floor of your home.

 “Okay, so dinner is canceled. What’s planned in its place?”

 “Nothing.”

 “What do you mean nothing? Baby, I’m sure everyone who was supposed to come to this dinner tonight wanted to see you. It has been months,” you stressed.

 “Oh, I know it’s been months. That is why I canceled with my mom’s blessing. She even had a message for you.”

 You piqued up, straining your neck so you could gaze down at him. Making eye contact without angling his head up, Lewis smirked but didn’t speak.

 “What message?”

 “She’s not getting any younger and would like to be able to do Tik Tok dances with her grandchild without worry about her knees.”

 Your jaw dropped to which Lewis busted out laughing.

 “Wait, wait. What!?”

 “You heard me.” He kissed your belly again and dipped his tongue into your belly button. Moaning softly, you bit into your bottom lip.

 “So you’re saying your mother not so specifically but specifically is suggesting that--.”

 “—I put a baby in you? Yeah,” Lewis filled in.

 Your jaw was again ajar from your state of shock.

 “Wow.”

 You’d always known his mother wanted grandkids, but it was always one of those once a year at family dinners passing comment. She’d graduated now. Before you knew it, Lewis had lifted you into his arms again and was now carrying you through the halls, up the stairs.

 “You’re walking away from the door. What exactly are we supposed to do with the rest of the day?”

 “I think I have plenty of ideas,” Lewis answered as he carried you into your bedroom.

 From walking into the bedroom, he walked on into the bathroom. Once inside, Lewis plopped you onto the sink. As soon as you were seated, he began pulling off your leggings.

 “What’s happening right now?”

 “I’m getting you naked. I want to wash off the airplane and travel off of me before I smother myself with you, and you’re going to help me.”

 “Oh, am I?” Lewis then yanked off your pants and dropped them onto the floor, leaving you in your high waisted bikini-style thong. Lewis lowly growled as he peeped peeks of your ass in the mirror behind you.

 “You were ready for me to come home, you know how much I love these,” he grunted out, snapping the elastic against your skin, leaving a subtle stinging sensation that slowly dulled. Though it dulled, it awoke and intensified another sensation—arousal.

 He pulled back and began working on his jeans. Once he dropped them and pulled his boxer-briefs off, your teeth once again sank into your bottom lip. Your eyes traveled along his body, taking in the sleek muscles that decorated his torso down to his well defined oblique muscles that slanted inward, tempting you with that under bellybutton tattoo. He was even more ripped than he was three months ago. He was also a lot more bruised and scraped up.

 “Jeez, what have they done to you?”

 Glancing over his body, Lewis shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh, occupational hazard.”

 You hopped off the sink and closed the space between you trailing your hand from his hip, over his ribs, and up to his chest. Once you reached his jaw, you gently cupped it.

 “Let’s get you cleaned so I can take care of you.”

 Walking behind him, you led the way to the shower, turned on the water, and allowed the moisture to rain over you. It was hard not to smirk when you heard Lewis’s guttural groan. As soon as he let it out to bounce off the tiled walls, his arms were wrapping around you, pulling you into him.

 Lewis’s lips latched onto your neck and sucked. The force of that suck had you remembering everything that mouth had ever done to you. As if he remembered as well, his grip tightened as his hand roamed to your backside to cup it. It felt like he moved his hands everywhere all at once as if he couldn’t be happy with one location.

 “It’s been so long, baby. I need you so much,” Lewis whispered in your ear, sending a violent shiver through you that awakened so much in you that you nearly overpowered him and took control. Almost.

 Before you could, Lewis pressed you to the wall, stretching your hands out along the tile. His mouth moved from your neck to your lips to suck the air right from your lungs. The man was meant for kissing. Once he was sure you wouldn’t be able to function, you felt his knee nudge your legs apart. Within seconds you felt his hand cup your sex, making you loudly gasp.

 “Do you need me as much as I need you?” Knowing you had no words to express how much you needed him, you nodded.

 “Words, babygirl.”

 You already saw what mood he was setting. Gathering your composure, you pushed off the wall and walked over to your bath products then lathered your bath gloves. Turning back to Lewis, you gently rubbed along his body taking care not to hurt him anywhere accidentally. As your gloved hands slowly traveled across his skin, your eyes followed where they went. The white lather of the soap was a nice contrast with his tanned and tattooed skin.

 Once you made it to his back, you relished the feel of his muscles dancing underneath your fingers, showing you again just how hard he pushed his body. Seductively you swirled your finger down his spine until you made it to the top of his taunt ass. There was nothing but trust from him as your hand rubbed his derriere, a trust you’d mirrored every day since nearly the day you’d met.

 After several long minutes of cleaning and teasing every inch of him, Lewis again pushed you against the shower wall. This time your abdomen and face rested against its cool surface while he pressed his body against your back and ass. Instead of speaking, Lewis kissed your jaw, brought his mouth to your ear, and bit down as he pulled the shower glove off of your hand. He knew damn well it wouldn’t fit his much larger one.

 It didn’t matter if they fit perfectly to him; a few moments later, you felt his gloved hand rub against your backside.

 Up—down—up—down.

 Lewis released a deep groan right beside your ear. Bringing his hand up your back, he gently rubbed your skin, applying enough pressure and force to clean but not enough to give you any sort of pleasure. He was an expert tease. Once his hand made it to your shoulder, he massaged it, applying more pressure dragging a satisfying moan from your lips.

 “You’re tense, love.”

 “I wonder why,” you whispered.

 Quickly, Lewis had you flipped around staring into your eyes. As he distracted you with his golden chestnut orbs, pulling you even more under his spell, his hand wreaked havoc on your breast. He rubbed, circled, pinched, and repeated the process. Bringing his ungloved hand to join in on the pleasure, he cupped and massaged them until he brought both hands to your throat to gently but forcefully hold you there.

 His lips crashed to yours soon after. His tongue was a work of art and spelled by a sorcerer and was proving to you just how well he knew how to use it. Your moans matched his, but when you felt his gloved hand against your folds, your moans increased.

 “Oh, baby.”

 “I can feel that tension increasing,” Lewis taunted as he turned you, placing you under one of the two overhead shower fixtures.

 Once the soap from your bodies was washed away, Lewis was carrying you once again into the bedroom. With you rested across it with your legs spread, Lewis’s head and mouth licked, nibbled, and sucked a path down your body until you felt his tongue flick across your needy bud. With the arch of your back, you gasped again.

 “Fuck, baby!”

 “Mmm.”

 In seconds his mouth was fastened over your sex, feasting as if his last meal was right between your thighs. There was an urgency to how his tongue flicked your clit and then delved between your folds only to nibble against your labia. After a few short minutes, you were a whimpering, writhing mess. Needing something to touch, your hands raked along his head. Every time you tried to snap your thighs together, he used his strength on you prying them apart and holding them to the bed so he could do as he wished.

 “Fuck Lewis, yes!”

 His moans were the only reply he gave. Just as you felt yourself nearing the threshold of absolute ecstasy, he pulled away and stood at the foot of the bed. As if he had a tether from him to you, your body yanked to a half-sitting position.

 “What!? What’s wrong? What’re you doing?”

 Lewis didn’t answer. He just stood there licking his lips before he used his thumb to swipe at the corner of his mouth. The look in his eyes told you he had no intention of coming back to finish the job.

“Lew---,” you cautiously began watching him. He couldn’t tell you that he no longer wanted you; the uterus destroying lightsaber that Kylo Ren wished he possessed said otherwise. Biting your bottom lip, you moaned.

 “Come here, baby, let me help.”

 Lewis walked away to the leather armchair that was in the nearest corner to the bed. He then pulled it across the room to place it at the foot of the bed. By that time, you thought he meant for you to straddle him on it. So when Lewis sat, you began to move.

 “Stop!”

 Pausing, you gave him a questioning look.

 “How long have I been gone?”

 Crinkling your brow, you sighed. “Months.”

 “How many?”

 “Lewis--,” you began.

 “—Y/N. be a good girl and answer me.”

 Like a brat, you kissed your teeth and sighed out exaggeratedly. “Three months.”

 “Have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?”

 Your eyes bugged. He knew the answer to that. Lewis’s eyes flicked to the right bedside table, where he knew you had your toys.

 “Lewis, I don’t want to play this game,” you whined.

 “Are you sure? Your nipples are telling a different story.”

 Narrowing your eyes, you ended on an eye-roll. “Yes.”

 With your answer, Lewis stroked his cock, bringing your attention to the massive erection just standing tall as if it knew there was none like it. Lewis groaned and sucked in a breath.

 “Though I’ve tried not to, I’ve done this several times. I’ve lost track of how many.”

 You could hear his voice speaking, but you were too focused on his actions to really allow any words to resonate. Watching his large, veiny hand stroke his need had your mouth watering. It was so damn sexy. The sighed, coupled with his moans, was enough to make fresh wetness pool between your legs.

 When his hand stopped, you followed it to rest on the arm of the chair. A few seconds passed before you realized he wasn’t going to bring it back to continue. Locking eyes with him, you recognized the look.

 “Show me how you’ve done it.”

 You could have choked from the shock. You knew he wasn’t joking, and you knew better than to toy with him when he got like this. Bringing your hand down your body, you cupped your own sex and groaned. It was insane how wet you were.

 “Show me,” Lewis said in his impossibly deep voice. It had been months since you’d heard it this clearly. Facetime sex was great, and all, but there was nothing like his voice in person.

 Using your two fingers, you spread yourself so he could see. Lewis’s grunt was loud, and the jerk of his member was a substantial one. As if in a trance, your fingers found your opening and swirled around, coating themselves before circling your clit. The second you began, you had to steady yourself. You knew you wouldn’t last long with him sitting there, but you wanted to give him a good show. Your fingers sped despite your best efforts to slow them. Once your back arched, you had to pull your hand away. The action had your back arched more as you dropped your head back.

 “Fuck!”

 “Such a beautiful pussy baby,” Lewis huskily whispered.

 Bringing your head back to resume eye contact, you took a deep breath then continued. Starting slowly, you sucked your bottom lip and focused on his eyes rather than how you were making yourself feel. Dipping two digits inside your heat, you squirmed, jutting your breasts into the air. Lewis groaned from across the room and brought his hand back to his cock. After a few strokes, he groaned and put his hand back on the arm of the chair.

 “How’s it feel, baby?”                                                                                      

 As you plunged your fingers in and out of your body, you spoke, “So good, but I want your hand. Your fingers. Your mouth.”

 You gasped then brought your soaking fingers to your clit, intent on one thing. Release. Your fingers moved quickly, racing you toward your release. Lewis must have sensed it too because he was now at the edge of the chair observing.

 “Come for me, Y/N!”

 “Mmm, fuck Lewis, I’m gonna—gonna--.”

 Your back arched again, and your fingers sped, and within seconds you screamed out and shook from the sheer power of your release. While you were lost in your pleasure, you didn’t hear anything else but the pounding of your heart. When you felt his cock fill you to the hilt, you screamed and came again and clenched around him. Lewis growled, pinned your thighs to the bed, and plowed into you in a way that you knew you’d feel even tomorrow.

 His strokes were not meant to tease you or reacquaint his body with yours. They were meant to please, meant to mark, meant to ruin you for any other separations. He wanted to erase months, show you how he alone could make you feel this way, and how only he could give you what you needed. When he shifted your body to hoist it a few inches off the bed to give you long, deep strokes, it was over. another orgasm claimed you, and your nails claimed his skin—marking him as yours as much as he marked you as his.

 “Fuck, you’re so tight. I’ve missed you so much.”

 With those words, Lewis pulled you up to him, so he was holding you as he was sitting back on his legs, and you were straddling him with your legs wrapped around his back. He controlled your body with ease and skill, lifting you only to drop you on his protruding heat.

  “I missed you.” Your lips crashed to his and took control of this. You nibbled his lips and sucked his tongue.

 It was such a beautiful mix of submission and dominance that the sheer intimacy of it had your belly fluttering.

 “This won’t be long, babe, I want too much,” Lewis warned.

 “Fuck me!”

 Dropping you back to the bed, Lewis held your legs like a pair of scissors and began throwing pummeling thrusts into you. You were thankful you’d chosen a home that had no neighbors for miles and in the middle of plenty of greenery. As he gave you everything he had the next few minutes, you took it all.

 Once you felt his move from thoughtful calculation to no order or rhythm, you knew it was a matter of seconds. Sure enough, you felt him release into you as he grunted and groaned loud enough to compete with your shrieks and shouts in between his utterance of how much he loved you. Lewis buried himself inside of you and pulled your final orgasm free.

 The two of you laid there for long minutes, composing yourselves while trying to catch tour breaths. When he rolled off of you onto the bed beside you, he groaned.

 “Mmm, I love you so much,” Lewis repeated.

 You rolled to his side and rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you.

 “I love you more, baby.”

 “Although I think that was the one that did it, we have all night.”

 “Did what?”

 Lewis rolled on top of you and plastered his hands on your belly. “Put a baby in here.”

 You couldn’t help but laugh.

 “Oh, so you were trying to get me pregnant?”

 His smile was wide, cheesy, and completely charming.

 “Do you have any objections? According to my calendar, you’re fertile.”

 Lewis thrust forward, joining your bodies again. Completely shocked, you gasped.

 “Lewis.”

 “Mmmm, god you feel like mine. Let me give you something else that’s mine.”

 “You’re serious?”

 You’d talked about starting a family together before, but you’d never made a decision. It was still something sweet to think about. Lewis stroked forward, then retreated and did it again and again.

 “I am, but I want you to be my wife first.”

 Your heart stopped.

 “Are you breathing?”

 As if for emphasis, he rotated his hips, making you feel his depth and breadth completely. Clenching around him, you shivered.

 “Mrs. Tan has a nice ring to it, as does wife, mother of my children.” With every word he spoke, he circled some more.

 “Love of my life,” he finished before he picked up his pace making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

 You knew that there would be no rest for the wicked, and it was evident Lewis was in a wicked mood.

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

Tag List:

@munteanhorewrites @night-of-the-living-shred @caramara3 @chaneajoyyy @dangerouslovefanfic @sonjashuterbugjohnson @i-just-like-fanfics @areubeingserved @areubeingserved-too​

[rebellconquerer]

oooh, could we get 9 (you're in love with her) for the prompt meme. bucky and sam talking about sarah?

Here you go Anon, angst and feels. Will be crossposted to AO3. Technically a missing scene from In The Woods Somewhere, it'll be a little confusing if you haven't read that. Also it's a bit long.

Sam is worried. He’s trying very hard to hide it as he saunters down the gleaming walkway that leads to the Wakandan apartment they have set Bucky up in for his recuperation, but the fact remains that he is just a bit…worried.

The after had been worse than he expected. After Sarah had left, after Shuri had figured out the deprogramming, after they had started the process. He'll be honest, he hadn't been around much the first time. A mix of him not really knowing or trusting Bucky when this happened before (and vice versa), combined with Steve's almost obsessive need to shelter and protect Bucky then.

Still, the deprogramming had gone about as well as could be expected and Sam had remained with Buck until midway through the first week when major cities across Europe had started to be attacked by some weird environmental monsters. Hill, and then Fury himself, had reached out to say that the kid, Spiderman or whatever, had the situation under control and that they would call in reinforcements if they needed it. So Sam had stayed with Bucky for the first couple of days after the deprogramming as they were testing it to make sure it took, then some tv nutjob had leaked the kid's name.

Very few of the Avengers bothered with secret identities, but the kid was like 15 or something, so Hill had requested Captain America come help out with PR, ensuring that no one believed a teenager could be one of the Avengers.

Sam had said no initially, obviously, but Bucky had insisted he was fine and didn't need a babysitter. Had even managed to say it without that crazed, trapped animal look behind his eyes he got sometimes, so Sam had jetted off to New York for a few days. He had gotten exactly two texts from Bucky during that time. One that said 'I'm fine, mom' on day one and a thumbs-up emoji on day three.

Then Sarah had called him, trying to be all relaxed and casual as she fished for what the hell was going on in Wakanda cause Bucky hadn't spoken to her or responded to her since she left. As ancient as the dinosaurs though Buck may be, he damn well knows how to use a phone, and him deliberately cutting himself off is… concerning.

He comes to the right apartment number and knocks, then waits, then knocks again. Still no response. Sam frowns. He knows he's in there. Shuri told him they've still been monitoring his vitals and that he had requested a bit of time to himself in the aftermath, but he wasn't in the clear yet so she knew where he was.

Sam pounds on the door again.

"Buck, it's me. You gonna open up?"

Silence.

"Ok, Bucky, here's the thing, you either let me in or I'm calling Ayo or Shuri to override this lock… come on, man. Please." Sam whispers at the door, knowing Bucky's advanced hearing will pick it up.

He doesn't want to call in reinforcements and doesn't want to invade Bucky's space if it's not necessary, but as he mentioned before, he's worried.

He waits for one, then another overly long minute before the door finally opens.

Bucky looks like shit. His hair is messy and greasy. His blue eyes stand out as bright spots in the pallor of his face, broken only by the intense, almost bruise-like dark circles under his eyes. His cheekbones don't stand out as much as they did when Sam left so at least he was gaining back the weight he had lost, but he's standing with a blanket around his shoulders, hunched in and holding himself like the feral creature he hasn't been in years.

"Buck?-"

"You wanted to see me, you've seen me. Can you go now?" Bucky says flatly, eyes glinting with the acerbic 'fuck off' his lips haven't yet formed.

Oh hell no.

Sam slips his foot in the door just as Bucky goes to close it, preventing it from shutting. When Bucky pulls the door back open, Sam slips inside, pushing past Buck as quickly as he can.

Bucky growls, closing the door behind him and turning a glare on Sam.

"No please, come in. I'm definitely in the mood for visitors." Bucky says sarcastically.

Sam glances around the room. It's a lot like the first apartment they all stayed in together. Floor to ceiling windows cover one whole wall, the kitchen is immaculate, clearly unused, like most of the rest of the space, save for the couch where the cushions have been left haphazardly on the floor.

"Buck. What the hell is going on here?" Sam asks, voice coming out much softer than he intended. Bucky'd been in rough shape when he left, but he had been clearly on the mend. That was the only reason Sam'd even agreed to go help out.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I don't need you here." Bucky grits out, that muscle in his jaw flexing.

Sam stares for a minute then sighs. He's starting to get it, the lines of pain that seemed to carve through Steve whenever Bucky had pushed him away. It's hard for Sam to see the desperate way Bucky is holding himself while still pulling away, and Sam hasn't been his lifelong best friend.

"Look Buck, you're entitled to a couple bad days, but I'm going to need you to convince me that this is a par for the course breakdown and not something worse 'cause we've had a monumentally rough couple of weeks," Sam says clearly.

Bucky holds his gaze for a long moment before the harsh lines of his face seem to soften and he ducks around Sam, heading back to the couch.

"Like I told you, I'm fine." He mutters as he moves. "It's just… the come down from the deprogramming is a bitch, ok?"

Sam frowns, following him to the couch and sitting next to him.

"Would you like to elaborate, Buck?"

Bucky sighs, scrubbing both hands through his messy hair.

"Best as I understand it, it's like coming down from a high or something. There are a lot of biochemicals involved in the process and the washout… well it sucks." He shrugs. "Plus the process itself is like opening Pandora's box up here," he mutters, tapping the side of his head. "It leaves me… what I mean is it makes me-"

"Your nightmares get worse." Sam finishes for him. Bucky doesn't look up, doesn't say or do anything really.

Sam huffs. "Why didn't Shuri tell me? I expect this bullshit from you, but from her?"

Bucky goes very still, continuing to avoid eye contact. It finally clicks.

"She doesn't know, does she? You never said and… neither did Steve. That's why the two of you were hold up on that little farm for so long after. For god sake, why the hell didn't you say anything Buck?"

Sam doesn't try to hold back the frustration bleeding into his voice.

"That child has more than enough of my pain on her hands. She doesn't need any more. And I'll remind you… I never expected to have to do this again." Bucky finishes softly. Sam's anger deflates as suddenly as it started.

They sit in silence for a minute, Sam watching Bucky, Bucky pretending that Sam isn't watching him until Sam finally breaks.

"Is this why you haven't spoken to Sarah? She called me, you know, said you'd been ducking her calls."

Bucky's expression changes minutely then and if Sam hadn't known him as well as he does, if they hadn't been basically living in each other's pockets for the last year, he wouldn't have recognized it: a quick flash of guilt.

"Buck, what's going on in that head of yours?" Sam asks seriously. "Didn't I tell you if you break her heart I'd break your legs?"

Bucky huffs out a bitter laugh. "Actually the last I heard on the matter you said you'd kill me if I hurt her but we'd be ok. Way to send mixed messages by the way buddy."

Sam can't sit still any longer. This whole experience is surreal. God, he needs a vacation. He strolls over to the kitchen, filling a glass with water for himself and another for Buck. He places the second glass in front of Bucky and backs up to lean on the counter, careful not to hover.

He takes a long drink, draining half the glass in one go as Bucky just stares at his.

“How was New York?” Bucky eventually asks.

Sam shrugs. “Went okay. No one is quite ready to call Captain America a liar to his face, even that piece of shit blowhard.”

That earns him a small smile from Bucky. “You think it’ll hold?”

“Well, they’ve got Pepper, Rhodey, Hill and Fury against them. I’m not sure much could stand up to that team long term so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Sam replies. Bucky isn't going to succeed in changing the topic, but maybe going the long way around will help.

They drop back into the silence. “I think Shuri is gonna let me go in a few days. The deprogramming seems to be holding.” Bucky finally says, still staring unblinkingly at his water.

Sam sighs. “You ready to come back to Delacroix?”

Bucky makes an uncomfortable-looking face, a strange cross between constipated and in pain. “I-I was actually going to go back to New York. Haven’t been home in a while, you know,” he says carefully.

Sam frowns.

“Alright Barnes, cut the crap. My nephews have been worried about you, Sarah is worried about you. What are you thinking-”

“I’m thinking that maybe this is the time to let it… let it die.” Bucky interrupts, eyes flicking up to Sam, a hard look on his face.

Sam just stands there, gaping at him for a minute.“The fuck do you mean, let it die?”

That unearthly stillness that Bucky usually carries in his frame starts to fray. He stands up, pacing to the window. “Sarah and I had a fight the night before I agreed to let Shuri do the deprogramming,” he says, then just leaves the sentence hanging.

“Yeah, the whole goddamn world could have guessed that." Sam prompts. "You’re stubborn as hell. If she got you to reconsider it wasn’t with sweet nothings whispered into your ear.”

Sam watches the tips of Bucky’s ears go a little bit red as he ducks his head at that. He really doesn’t want to know any details about whatever memory that triggered. Bucky still doesn't continue.

“So what, are you angry with her?” Sam asks.

“What? No! Of Course not!" Bucky responds, turning to face him. He still looks weary and a little… lost.

"She said… she said she didn't think I wanted this life. That I hadn't gotten to choose it and so I was too comfortable throwing it away." Bucky mutters staring at the floor.

Sam frowns in confusion. That was harsh. Probably entirely truthful, but harsh nonetheless. And Sarah said he was tough on Buck.

"Ok…" Sam prompts again.

"She said I needed to think about what I wanted to live for. What future was worth fighting for because without that I'd always be … stuck." Bucky goes quiet again and Sam's frown deepens.

He doesn't get it. Doesn't get what Bucky is trying to tell him. "Ok, so you did that and decided that she isn't in that future?" Sam tries, keeping his voice as flat and without judgment as possible.

Bucky doesn't look at him, just keeps staring at the floor between them, the expression on his face pained. Sam watches him clench and unclench his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping. But still, Bucky says nothing.

It's Sam's turn to pace. He pushes up off the counter, walking closer to Bucky as he rubs at his temple. He's tired and stressed and he's been through too much in the last 3 weeks to play decoder with Bucky and his-

He comes to an abrupt stop beside the couch. The gears in his mind grinding to a halt so suddenly he thinks you should be able to hear them shrieking.

He turns to face Bucky, eyes tracing over the tight lines of his body as astonishment slides in under his skin, under his breastbone, and behind his eyes. How had he not seen it before? How had he not noticed?

“You’re in love with her.” he breathes out, the acknowledgement hitting like a brick. Bucky goes absolutely still as Sam stumbles back a few steps, sitting heavily on the arm of the couch.

“That’s what this is about. You’re in love with her and you’re afraid.”

“Look at me Sam, look at me?!” Bucky's voice is raspy, hollowed out. Sam lifts his gaze and meets Bucky's eyes.

“I’m a mess. On a great day, I’m a fucking mess. Most days I feel like I'm barely holding on to who I am because of what I am. On a bad day?” Bucky looks back out the windows, eyes going unfocused. “I shouldn’t be in love,” he whispers flatly. “What right do I have to get this after all the carnage I have caused. What right do I have to bring someone else into the hell that is my life.” He sighs then and leans back on the window, sliding down the glass to sit on the ground. The movement is slow, achingly so, making him look every one of his 107 years.

Sam slips from the arm of the couch coming to sit on the ground facing Bucky.

“This isn’t you Buck." He whispers. "This is the deprogramming and the night terrors. This is the lack of sleep and bone tiredness talking. This isn't you."

Bucky laughs, the sound empty. "Isn't it? Are you sure about that? Because I'm not."

"The two of you have been going great. You haven't been afraid before now, is this all fallout because of what happened, because Buck, you can't let that asshole Novikov take her from you."

Bucky lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the glass and staring at the ceiling, face blank. "Too good. It's been too good." He mutters and the last piece of the puzzle falls into place for Sam.

"She told you, didn't she? She told you she loves you."

Bucky's eyes flick down to his, expression sharp. "She told you what she was going to do?" Bucky asks, suspicion clear in his tone.

Sam shakes his head. "She didn't have to. You forget I've known her a lot longer than you have. I know what my sister looks like when she's in love."

He has one of those moments where he wishes Steve were there because he feels he would know what to say to help. But that's not really true. He'd watched Steve stumble through enough of these conversations to know he would be just as lost. Not that it matters. Steve's gone now. Left them both.

"It was fine when it was just you, right? When you'd be the only one risking anything? But it’s different now you know that she’s as far in as you are.” Sam mutters.

Bucky’s staring at the ceiling again, face blank. “That’s not it. I’m not afraid. I’m just seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.” he mumbles.

Sam’s lips twist into a rueful smile. Clearly? Bucky hasn’t been this muddled in a year. “You know I almost flunked out of Pararescue training?” Sam asks, trying a different tact.

Bucky looks over at him, frowning confusedly. Sam nods slowly, looking down at his hands.

“I got referred by my prior C.O. Spent 2 days in the air over the course of the first week and decided it was not for me. I mean, it was madness, right? Jumping out of a plane with nothing on but some wings someone else had made?”

Bucky smirks. “That’s real hard to believe, Sam. You’re a natural.”

Sam shakes his head. “Nah, Riley was a natural. Took to the skies like a duck to water.” Sam can still hear the excitement in Riley’s voice after his first jump. How he could barely catch his breath to talk because all he wanted to do was laugh and grin.

“Went back to my C.O. Told him thanks for the recommendation but… I couldn’t do it. He fed me this bullshit story about how some scientist somewhere had done some experiment, right? That they gave a group of people some glasses that flipped the world upside down.” Sam looks up at Bucky to find him staring back at him, blank look retreating, intense blue eyes focussed.

“The first two days everyone was walking around bumping into things, begging to be let out of the experiment, but by the end of the third day, they had all adapted. Their world was normal again. He told me to give it three days, and I did.”

Bucky purses his lips and looks away, letting the meaning of the words sink in.“You realise you’d already been there for more than three days, right? You said it was the end of the first week.”

Sam huffs out a tired laugh. “Man, do you ever get tired of being a pain in the ass?” he asks.

Bucky slips into that small, sad smile he wears so well. “All signs point to no,” he mutters back.

“It’s been a long fucking month, Buck. I’m not saying you’re wrong or you’re right, but… just give yourself a moment to adapt to your new normal before you go making any drastic decisions.”

Bucky doesn’t respond for a while, but then he nods slowly, still refusing to look at Sam.

“And honestly, Buck, no jokes this time. Whatever happens, I’ll still be here. You don’t have to be alone.” Sam says as clearly as he can.

Bucky finally looks back over to him. “Guess Steve was right leaving me to you.”

It’s Sam’s turn to look away, laughing. “Nah. He left us to each other,” he replies easily.

“We’re probably giving the punk too much credit. Like he ever thought ahead in his whole stupid life… but… the same goes for you, you know. I’ll be here as long as you need me, for whatever that counts as.” Bucky says.

Sam looks up at him, their eyes meeting and he can’t help but smile, relaxing the tension a little. “So you love her, huh? You realise she’s just a less pretty version of me. This is tantamount to you declaring your undying love of me.”

Bucky lets out an honest to God laugh. “You ever get tired of being so in love with yourself?” he fires back.

Sam shrugs, pushing himself up off the ground and reaching a hand out for Bucky. He looks at it a moment before he grabs on and Sam pulls him to his feet, wrapping one hand around his shoulder and leading him back to the couch.

“Well honestly, someone has to be.” Sam jokes.

Bucky laughs again

[wonderlustlucas]

jack pot ; part 3 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 6.4k ⇢ genre fluff & angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way) ⇢ warnings (18+) drug use, a suggestive make out & the mention of a boner twice maybe ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n AAAAAAAA omg im so excited to post this, this by far is my fav part of jack pot & i cant wait to hear what u all think!!! sorry its a bit shorter than the other parts, & technically this is the *last* part, but there will be an epilogue where you will see how everything comes to be!!!! have fun reading!!! <3

⇠ part 2

five.

“Oh, fuck, he’s good,” Yeji gasps, shoving her phone into Maddie’s hands before faceplanting into the table.

“Are you H-T-T-P because I’m colon-slash-slash without you,” Maddie reads with a chuckle, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. “Quick, YN, look up some pick-up lines.”

Closing the tab on the article you should be reading but has been long forgotten, you promptly do as you are told and open the first link from your search, Minho and Jisung leaning in to help. “There,” Jisung stops you, pointing to one, “’Are you a parking ticket? Because you have fine written all over you.’”

The table can’t help but burst into laughter at such a sentence. It’s stupid, but ever since Yeji and Kim Sunwoo began texting, their conversations have been full of tacky puns and emoji-filled compliments.

“Damn,” Maddie whistles, setting the phone back into Yeji’s limp hand, “he’s already typing back.”

“Gross,” Ryujin teases, busy typing away on her laptop. How she manages to multitask so well is a skill you certainly lack. “Why don’t you just like, I don’t know, ask him out?” Jisung asks and when you glance up, he’s looking at you. “Because that’s the guy’s job,” Maddie quickly saves the day, winking to you when you send her a grateful smile.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin scoffs. Everyone, even Ryujin, stops to look at him.

Did he just curse?

“I mean, like,” he stammers, cheeks turning rosy at all the attention, “it’s 2020. Guys have insecurities, too.”

“I agree,” Minho hums, looking to Maddie with hearts in his eyes, “that kind of confidence is enough to make any boy fall in love.”

“Yeah, but—”

Lia rebuts, but your attention quickly falls elsewhere when a text message first appears on your laptop, then your phone.

hwang hyunjin🦔🕺🏻💞🧻 [now] Where r u rn?

Unable to fight your smile, you quickly type back.

[3:39 PM] YN: outside hollin st café [3:39 PM] YN: why? :)

“Have you seen their new house, YN?” Minho asks, prompting you to click your phone off and set it back on the table. “Whose house?”

“Changbin’s parents.”

“Oh,” shaking your head, you distantly curse Chan for keeping your friend busy today. Unlike Jisung, Changbin likes to write lyrics and do whatever other music stuff during the day at a normal time instead of the middle of the fucking night while stoned and trying to finish his computer science assignments at the same time. “No, he forgot to send me pictures.”

“Dude,” Jisung sighs dreamily, “it’s huge. So nice. I think the front door alone could cover tuition.”

“Is it really that nice?” Maddie asks in awe.

“He started to show me pics the other day but couldn’t finish but the kitchen… unnecessary,” Ryujin quips, pausing her work to check her phone. “Yeah, it’s insane. The whole place is unnecessary but the kitchen is like, a house in itself,” Jeongin hums, head shaking in disbelief.

“Damn, now I really want to see it,” you sigh, making a mental note to hunt Changbin down so he can show you. “It’s like Hyunjin and his rings,” Minho snickers, “he has so many. Whenever we’re out, if he sees a ring, boom. It’s his.”

Well, he’s not wrong but… You bite your tongue no matter how badly you wish to defend Hyunjin and his affinity for rings and jewelry in general. The boy has taste, what can you say? You certainly are not complaining about Hyunjin’s long fingers and the way he chooses to decorate them.

“I never thought I’d hear Changbin’s parent’s kitchen be analogous to Hyunjin’s jewelry collection, yet here we are,” Maddie chuckles, leaning over Yeji to peek at her conversation with Sunwoo.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” Jisung pipes up of course as soon as you have reopened the tab to your assignment. Changbin or Hyunjin, you don’t know, head whipping up to find out and a peculiar mix of relief and panic settling over you once you spot the latter. “Uh oh, YN’s gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

As subtly as you can, you elbow Jisung in the stomach and smile at Hyunjin as he nears. “Hey,” keeping his eyes on you, Hyunjin approaches your table and stops behind Maddie opposite from you, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were busy.” His cheeks, already flushed, burn pinker once he looks away to smile weakly at everyone else.

“I’m not busy!” You squeak, scrambling to close your laptop and shove it in your bag. “Are you sure? I can come back later?” He offers, tilting his head and this is when you realize he is holding a bubble tea in each hand. And from the looks of it, one seems to be your usual order. “No, she’s not,” Jeongin answers for you, recognizing your stupefied expression.

“I was just – yeah. No,” rushing to stand and swing your legs out around the bench, you nearly fall flat on your face, “I wasn’t doing anything, actually.” Steadying yourself with a hand on Minho’s shoulder, you heave a labored breath before carefully walking to meet Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he beams, either oblivious to how flustered you are or simply choosing to ignore it. Turning to wave to your friends, he hands you one of the cups and you realize it is, in fact, your favorite boba. Oh boy. “See ya later,” you wave to them as well, nose wrinkling when both Jisung and Maddie wink in return.

Following after Hyunjin, you finally allow yourself to take notice of his attire and can’t help but feel confused. He looks good. And not in the good attractive way—he always looks good. But good as in formal. It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday in October and he’s out here looking as if he just got out of a business meeting. White button-down tucked into fitted black slacks, dress shoes, black tie, and he even has a black suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair is styled, too; ever since he dyed it back to black, he’s been growing it out long enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. Now, however, it’s parted down the middle and seems as if he’s ever so slightly curled it away from his face.

Suddenly, you feel ridiculous walking beside him in mom jeans and a baggy sweatshirt from high school.

“Thanks for the boba,” you mumble around your straw, brain still preoccupied trying to get over how utterly handsome he is. “Why do you look so fancy?”

The side of his mouth twitches up at your words, but his eyes stay glued to the sidewalk as you continue to your unknown destination. “I had an audition,” Hyunjin admits, voice devoid of emotion as if it’s not important at all. “An audition?” You echo. “Why do you sound so not super mega excited? How did it go? What was it for?”

“Well—”

“Wait!” You interrupt, stopping your walk once you realize he had an audition and you didn’t know. “You had an audition? What – why didn’t you tell me?”

Hyunjin frowns, avoiding your gaze and dragging his bottom teeth over his top lip. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he finally says before reaching for your hand and tugging you away from the walkway and into your campus’ main courtyard. “Why? Is it some sort of secret or something, Hyunjin?” You scoff, sounding way more annoyed than you intended. But you are annoyed; why didn’t he want to tell anyone?

“No,” he sighs, finding an empty area in the grass and lowering himself to sit, “I just… didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, visibly softening for him and settling down next to him, crisscrossing your legs, “it is a big deal. I don’t know what it’s for, but if it’s important enough for you to audition, then it’s important to us, too. You don’t need to be humble twenty-four-seven, you know. I’m sure you could have used our support.”

“I didn’t get it, though,” Hyunjin whispers, “they just – I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough.” Sensing the sadness in his voice, you find a lump forming in your throat when you notice the way his bottom lip trembles. “Hey,” panicking, you set your boba down and sit up on your knees to wrap your arms around him, cradling his head into your chest once tears start falling, “no. Don’t ever say you’re not good enough, Hyunjin.”

“But if I did better, practiced more, than I would—"

“Stop,” you hush, combing your fingers through his hair and brushing strands away from his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who works as hard as you do. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t know what could have happened if you got in. You could have hurt yourself eventually, or maybe met someone who’s a real asshole.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, quiet and muffled when he turns to press his forehead into your sternum, body still trembling as he lets out all his tears. You stay like that for a while, holding him against you and soothing a hand up and down his back until his sniffling falls quiet. “Listen,” you finally sigh, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. Your heart sinks once you take in the wet trails down his cheeks and the puffiness of his eyes. “Forget about it. Was it something for dance?”

When he nods subtly, you cup his face in your hands and swipe his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are an amazing dancer, Hyunjin. You can’t let this get to your head. And I don’t want you working your ass off more than you do already. Practice makes perfect, sure, but you need to rest. What about the idea Changbin came up with?”

“The YouTube thing?”

“Yes! Filming dance tutorials or just posting your routines is a really good idea,” you remind him, wiping your hands on your jeans once he falls back onto the grass with a gentle thud, hair flaying around him like a halo. Your limbs twitch with the urge to lie beside him, maybe throw an arm around him and rest your cheek on his chest, fingers tracing the soft features of his face, stroking through his hair and reminding him just how innately perfect he is, inside and out. You, of course, resist such a temptation, flopping down beside him and staring up at the clouds with a heavy heart.

“I could do that. Maybe,” Hyunjin huffs. Tilting your head to look at him, you find yourself knee-deep in that familiar longing feeling, pausing simply to appreciate how pretty he is in the evening sun, cheeks rosy from crying and hair begging to be touched. Shaking your head to rid such daydreams, you remind yourself how fragile his emotions are right now. Now is no time to get caught up on a fantasy. Reaching for your tea, you lean up on an elbow and redirect your gaze to the trees, the promise of winter having turned what was green burnt sienna and butterscotch, leaving trees barren and branches swaying gently in the crisp breeze that leaves you curling into yourself. “You should,” you hum, distant, mind clawing to come up with the words you want to say.

“Come here,” Hyunjin says now, voice stronger than before and when his hand wraps gently around your wrist, you can’t find it in yourself to resist. Allowing him to pull you back down beside him, you curl into his side, resting your head a safe distance away from his own and onto the curve of his arm. “Thank you for being so good to me,” he expresses. You squeeze your eyes shut when the arm you lie on wraps around your shoulders and pulls you substantially closer. “I need to tell you something.”

A long stretch of silence falls upon you and for a moment, you are unsure the words even left your mouth. What are you thinking?

“Wait! I have something first,” Hyunjin sighs, missing the way your breath hitches. “Okay,” you whisper, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt and focusing all your attention there.

“I just – I think… I owe you an apology,” he finally says, “I need to apologize for something that I did a while ago that I know probably hurt.” Your chest tightens. There’s a lot that has hurt you when it comes to Hyunjin, but none that he’s done purposely. None that are his fault. None that he should be apologizing for.

“I feel like we came to some mutual understanding to not mention what happened when we were freshmen, but it kills me to know that – that something happened, and we never talked about it,” Hyunjin starts, grip tightening on your shoulder and suddenly, you think you are dreaming. This cannot possibly be real. “I know it was awkward but, I also know me and Yiren dating was… ah. I don’t know.”

When he falls silent, you are unsure of what to say or do. You have no idea what the end goal of this conversation is. Hardly a minute ago, your heart and your brain decided it was time to tell him. Now, you’re not so sure you can do that until he finishes, and you are not about to give him your two cents if his reasoning for bringing it up is not the same as yours.

“I just want to apologize for not being brave enough to talk to you about it. I know I was confused, but I’m sure it was worse for you when they told you about her,” Hyunjin continues, sensing your rendered silence, “and it’s been so long since that happened, and now, you’re one of my closest friends.” Ouch.

“But I’ve been thinking,” when he picks up again, your eyes fly open in a panic. He’s been thinking. Hyunjinhas been thinking. You think you are going to pass out. “And I just feel like we… me and you, I mean—"

The standard iPhone alarm blares from beside you, promptly cutting him off and you think it is the biggest cockblock known to man. “Shit,” he hisses, leaning up to tug his phone from his pocket and in the process nudging you from your comfortable position. Sitting back up, nerves aflame and heart racing, your brows shoot up in confusion when all he does is stare at the number calling him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the studio I was just at,” he scoffs in disbelief, barely glancing at you before looking back to his phone. You have never wanted to shrivel up and die as much as you want to right now. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”

Hyunjin makes a noise of acknowledgement before tapping the green icon and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Sitting quietly beside him, you watch with a forced smile as his hummed responses and subtle nods morph into enthusiastic laughs and wide, beaming smiles. Hyunjin notices your confusion when you tilt your head, mouthing a ‘What?’ to him.

“They made a mistake,” he whispers, covering the speaker of his phone, “read off the wrong Hwang. I’m in.” When he grins excitedly at you, your response isn’t as cheerful as it could be. As it should be. “Yay!” You whisper, clapping gently but quickly turning to your boba when the other line begins speaking again. Looking away, you take a hefty sip, nearly choke on a tapioca ball, and build the walls around your heart up all over again in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve gotta go,” whispering, you manage one more pained smile before getting to your feet and wiping your butt of any possible grass stains, “good luck!” When he shines you one more breathtaking smile and waves excitedly, you hastily head in the other direction, wrapping your arms around yourself and swallowing past the lump that threatens to form the farther you walk.

It must be nice, you think, frantically wiping at your waterline. Must be nice to put yourself out there and have things work out the way you want them to. Must be nice being told you’re ‘in,’ you’re wanted, you’re desired.

It must be nice.

six.

Pick up food, you said. Ask Jisung, you said.

Your conscience is a big fat oompa loompa ass bitch. You would have never called Jisung to ask him if he wanted anything from Taco Bell if you knew he was with Changbin. And not just Changbin, you realized four minutes into your call; Seungmin and Hyunjin, too. Apparently he went over their place to record, or something, and didn’t care to let you know. Not that you’re his mom and he has too—but it would have been nice, and would have saved you from spending almost fifty dollars at Taco Bell.

“I tried calling Jisung but he didn’t answer,” you snap once Seungmin answers your call with a muffled hello. “Can one of you please come out and help me carry this in?” You glance at the five large sodas and two bags full of food in your passenger seat with a grimace. “Sure,” he agrees and you make a mental note for the umpteenth time just how much you love Seungmin, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

True to his word, you spot him making his way out of their apartment and across the small courtyard to meet you by your car not even a minute later, hauling each bag under his arms. “Thank you,” left only with the cupholder, you hurriedly lock your car and follow after him. “No problem. Thanks for being our Uber Eats,” then, pursing his lips, “how much was this?”

“Forty-seven something,” you grumble unhappily, knowing this was a big hit to your debit. “We’ll pay you back, don’t worry,” Seungmin smiles, leading you up the final flight of stairs and kicking open the ajar door.

Immediately, you’re hit with the smell.

“Dear, fucking hell,” making a face, you rub your nose to keep from sneezing, “it reeks in here. How have you guys not been kicked out yet?”

The stench of weed generally does not bother you anymore, but still—they could light a candle, or something. Seungmin shrugs, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Luck, I guess.”

“IS THAT YN?” From another room, you hear Changbin shout, followed by an excited shriek from Jisung. “They’re high. Very high. You’ve been warned,” Seungmin whispers just as tweedle dee and tweedle dum themselves come flying around the corner. “YN!” Jisung grins, engulfing you in a dramatic hug. “Watch,” you hiss, regarding the blunt held between his fingers that comes dangerously close to your hair.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then, without warning, sticks the thing right between your lips. “I didn’t even offer.” Well, when life gives you lemons…

You hesitantly take the hit and blow the smoke away from him. You weren’t planning on getting high today, but here you are. “Thanks,” shaking your head as if that will clear it, you turn to Changbin and snugly wrap your arms around him. Every day you thank the heavens that he is a chill, calm high, unlike your maniac of a roommate.

“Thanks for the food,” fishing into his pockets and pulling out a crumpled ten-dollar bill, he slaps it into your palm. You only hum in reply, shoving it into your own pocket and praying you don’t lose it before you remember to put it in your wallet. “Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask, no longer caring about being slick.

“In his room,” Seungmin answers, rummaging through the bags to find what he ordered. Then, “HYUNJIN!” You jump, reaching for your soda and standing away from the other three until they have claimed whatever belongs to them. No sooner than Seungmin calls for him, you hear a door being cracked open and out comes Hyunjin.

He looks extremely disheveled. Like, just woke up from a two-month hibernation, disheveled. In the blink of an eye, however, he rakes a hand through long blonde hair and promptly sets a baseball cap backwards to keep the strands away and suddenly, he doesn’t look so disheveled anymore. You force yourself to look away, cursing the way your gut twists.

“Gimme my crunchwrap,” you say around your straw, snatching the blunt from Jisung’s fingers and moving around him to fetch your dinner. He doesn’t even protest.

He knows you need it more than he does.

“That’s a lot of food,” Hyunjin says once he has finally entered the kitchen, voice groggy and eyes puffy from sleep. Or from being high, you can’t tell. Pressing his chest to your back, he wraps one arm around you to keep you against him while the other reaches into a bag to take what’s his. Swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, you manage a thick inhale from the blunt before tilting your head to look at him and mentally thanking the other three for taking it as their cue to head out.

“Not my fault you guys eat like animals,” you chuckle shakily, trying to ignore the firmness of his body against yours, veins prominent on the arm that holds you against him and the ripple of muscle along his abdomen noticeable even through his shirt and yours. Dear god, it is too early for this. Not even seven o’clock and you are already drooling in more places than one.

Hyunjin pouts as if it is not true. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, finally moving away to grab his drink and you can’t help your disappointment, quickly finishing the blunt before tapping it out into one of the many ashtrays. “Don’t worry about it,” you wave off, digging through their drawers for a paper plate.

“YN,” Hyunjin deadpans, regarding you with a raised brow once you come up and begin unwrapping your food. You refuse to look him in the eye. “What do I owe you?” He repeats, firmer this time and it sends a chill down your spine when it most certainly should not. Sighing, you retrieve the receipt from your pocket and count everything he got. “Thirteen.”

Humming in content, Hyunjin reaches for his wallet on the counter and pulls a ten and five out. “There,” he beams, tucking the bills into your pocket himself. Rolling your eyes, you pray he does not notice how you flush and hurry out of the kitchen to join Seungmin on the sofa.

“House Hunters?” You ask with a laugh, looking at the TV once you have settled next to him. “I told you HGTV is the best.”

Seungmin hums in agreement. “I thought it was stupid at first, but Hyunjin was watching Fixer Upper and I got addicted,” he says, nodding to the older boy doing a little dance in the kitchen as he eats one of his tacos. Your heart does somersaults at the sight. “They’re all so good,” you agree after taking a few bites of your own food, eyes trained on the television, “House Hunters is a classic, though.”

“I like the international one,” Hyunjin adds on his way over, crashing unceremoniously next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Seungmin wrinkle his nose when Hyunjin sets his free hand casually on your thigh. “Shh,” he grumbles, vaguely gesturing to the screen and chewing a mouthful of food, “I wanna hear what the house has.”

One episode turns to two, which turns to three, which turns to four, and suddenly you have been watching House Hunters with Seungmin and Hyunjin for almost three hours. It definitely is the weed, always making time perpetually slower, and it did not help when Jisung and Changbin reappeared sometime during your binge with one of Felix’s bongs. Not necessarily how you intended to spend your precious Friday night, but there is no sense in complaining when you are with your buddies and Hyunjin, of course.

Taco Bell long gone, you watch with blurry eyes when Hyunjin gets up from his slumped position against you to head into the kitchen and open the freezer. This, as well as the realization that House Hunters has ended and gone to some other, not-as-cool show, brings both you and Seungmin somewhat back to reality.

“It’s almost ten,” Seungmin announces, staring dazedly at the time on his phone. You hum in acknowledgment, certainly sober enough to reply but simply too lazy to. “I think I’m going to bed. Or play something. Don’t wreck the place,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his face before standing up. “G’night, Minnie,” you smile, watching with a furrowed brow as he continues down the hall and into his room. It isn’t until you hear his door click shut does the weight of being alone with Hyunjin settle on your chest.

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone with Hyunjin before. In fact, that usually is the way it’s been in the past three years; whether the two of you decided to do your own thing or the rest of your friends eventually left or went to bed, you are used to this feeling. Used to ignoring the butterflies in your gut when he does something particularly cute and used to tampering down the mental images you conjure up knowing it’s just you and him.

But that doesn’t make things any easier. No matter how hard you try, you simply can’t help but feel this way around Hyunjin, especially when you’re alone. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” Hyunjin asks around one last spoonful of ice cream before setting the pint back into the freezer. “Uhh…” You drone, blinking heavily at the TV and back to him as he makes his way back over. “I dunno, I’m sure you’ve been watching some drama. You can put that on.”

“You sure?” He asks with a raised brow, collapsing next to you and slumping dramatically halfway down the cushions. “Yes,” laughing, you find yourself reaching out to tuck messy strands of hair back behind his ear without hesitation, “also, why are you wearing a hat inside?”

Hyunjin pauses, straining to look up as if he will be able to see the back of his cap against his forehead. “I’m wearing a hat?”

“Yes, you idiot,” in comes the endless weed giggles and you find yourself unable to stop laughing, watching with teary eyes as he sits up and takes his hat off. “I don’t remember putting this on,” he chuckles airily, flipping the cap back and forth in his hands before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Should I cut it?”

“No!” You shout a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Shrinking against the arm of the couch, you ignore his amused smile and look to his long hair, freshly bleached strands falling down to his neck and shorter pieces brushing against his cheeks. Fuck, it should be illegal to look this good. “I like it long. It really suits you.”

“It’s annoying,” Hyunjin grins despite his complaint, lifting his legs onto the couch and flopping onto his side, head now resting on your lap. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Now that he’s offered playing with his hair on a silver platter, you don’t hesitate combing your fingers through it, tugging out pieces stuck under his head and brushing it out completely. “You could pull the sides back,” you hum distantly, separating a section of hair near his temple to pull back, “or make a bun with what you can. You just have to play around with it.”

Humming in agreement, Hyunjin resituates himself after reaching for the remote and switching to Netflix. When you go back to simply raking your fingers from root to tip in irregular directions, you don’t miss the way his eyelids flutter at the motion and make sure to pay extra attention to his scalp. When this turned into a head massage, you’re not entirely sure.

The drama Hyunjin puts on is unbearable. You stopped paying attention a while ago, focusing more on him and how he seems to enjoy it, fingers busy braiding random sections of hair, taking them out, and then braiding them again. With two finally done the way you want them to, you are midway through the third when your fingers begin to cramp up.

“Why’d you stop?” Hyunjin asks seconds after you drop the braid and stretch your fingers out. “Fingers are cramping,” chuckling at the disappointed pout of his lips, you crack what knuckles you can before going back and undoing the unfinished braid. “Oh,” he mutters, cheek still pressed against your leg, “feels good.”

Humming in response, you ignore the way his words make your heart swell and begin gathering all his hair into a ponytail, pressing the braids to lay flat and finally tying it with a hair tie once you have combed up all that you can. Immediately, his bangs and hairs closer to the nape of his neck fall out, leaving the ponytail spikey and messy. At least the braids look good. You can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, pausing his show and leaning up. “What’d you do?”

“Go see for yourself,” pointing to the bathroom, you comb out a looped piece of hair before he stands to do just that. His ponytail bobs the entire walk there.

When he reaches the door and flips the light on, you watch from your position as he checks himself out, brushing away his bangs and flicking the pony. You frown when he accidentally yanks at a braid.

“Come here,” you say, sitting up, “you messed up the braid.”

“Honestly,” Hyunjin considers his reflection one last time before skipping his way over, “it doesn’t look half bad.” Expecting him to sit back next to you, your pulse quickens when he anchors a hand to the armrest and leans in front you, only inches away from your face. “No, definitely,” you say once you have gotten over the shock of him being so close so suddenly, “I like it in the ponytail. You’d really impress the girls if you braided your hair yourself.” Reaching up to tuck hair back into the braid and press it down flat once more, you don’t miss the way his brows draw together and lips twitch down. “What?”

Time ceases to exist as Hyunjin begins to come closer. In reality, you know it simply is a matter of seconds, but all of space and time seems to still once he leans forward. It feels as if an eternity goes by, allowing you to count each individual eyelash, memorize the details of his skin, take note of the smoothed lines on his plump lips. The way time slows is cruel; it allows panic to set in, the realization that he most certainly is looming over you with his eyes on your lips sending a spark of excitement and anxiety through your veins.

And then, just as this realization and this panic has set your nerves aflame, a gentle hand comes to cradle your jaw before Hyunjin’s lips press against yours.

It is so easy to surrender to the taste and touch of him. Instantly, an eruption of emotions and thoughts spiraling out of control fills you, yet your brain focuses only on Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. This is not the first time you have kissed him, nor the first time simply having him so close, but the feeling that radiates from your heart outward is unlike anything you have felt before. This is uncalled for. This is not like two years ago. You were not expecting this.

Hyunjin sighs into the kiss when you lean up to loop your arms around his neck. No sooner have you done this, he breaks away to sit beside you once more, hands reaching for your waist and guiding you to sit over his lap.

You could kiss him all day, you think, palms lying flat by his collarbones before fisting the material of his shirt when his tongue prods at the seam of your lips. Blood seemingly coming to a boil and nerves sparking dangerously, you find yourself quickly sobering up as the minutes tick by, completely and utterly addicted to him and this feeling, this feeling you have craved but never crossed the line for. And now, it’s yours to keep.

Forgetting the braids, you seize the opportunity to rake your fingers through his hair. Different, than how you did earlier. Desperate. Combing it away from his face once, twice, swallowing his groans when you tug at the roots, you realize with a whine that his hands have left your face in favor of dragging down your sides, circling back to squeeze at your breasts, rubbing at your thighs and finally sliding back to your ass, situating you more comfortably on his thighs.

When Hyunjin finally breaks the kiss to journey elsewhere, littering chaste kisses across your jaw, below your ear, down your neck, the weight of your actions finally hits you. It is overwhelming, the way you come spiraling back to reality, and you are not sure if the quiet moan that leaves you is due to the press of something else against your thigh or simply the realization that you are making out with Hyunjin.

You have to stop before you get hurt again.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, shuddering when his soft lips brush against your jaw, “wait. We need to talk.”

He pauses at this, fingers digging into your sides and you feel his frown against your neck. “What’s there to talk about?” He murmurs, arms sliding around you and tugging you closer, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him close and pretend like his boner isn’t digging into you.

It’s your turn to frown. “About us,” whispering, you lift one hand to stroke through his hair, “we need to talk about us.”

“I thought my feelings were very clear,” Hyunjin scoffs, all tenderness in his voice gone. Instinctively, you lean back, blinking at him in surprise. “Unless this is just another one of your games? Does this not mean anything to you, YN? I don’t think I could stomach you running off to Changbin or fucking Chan again.”

His words pierce your heart before you have even fully processed them, hurt flashing across your features and your body goes numb. “What?” Is all you can manage, scrambling to get away from him, chest heaving and eyes suddenly burning with the brine of tears. “What are you talking about, Hyunjin?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” He shouts. You flinch, not from the way he raises his voice, but from the genuine sadness in his eyes. “The past three years have been a constant battle with you. We’re best friends, for fucks sake, I figured out a long time ago that you have feelings for me. Feelings more than best friends. Yet every fucking time we started moving in the right direction, you turned your back on me.”

You can do nothing but stand there and let the tears fall. All the words and bottled emotions you wish to say are right there on the tip of your tongue, but you simply cannot bring yourself to voice them. Not when he’s right. Not when you have turned your back on him time and time again.

And then, he hisses more to himself than you, “Is this just sloppy seconds? You never once thought about my feelings in all of this?”

The anger brewing within you suddenly bursts from the dam and hisses through your body like deadly poison. “Sloppy seconds?” You snarl, fists clenching. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Your feelings? You just said you know how I feel about you, so why didn’t you ever do anything about it? How was I supposed to know you felt the same?”

“I thought it was pretty fucking obvious,” Hyunjin spits back, gaze narrowing, “didn’t think I had to spell out the fact that I like you, YN. You’re a smart girl.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” clenching your jaw, you have to look away for a moment, pacing one, two, three steps, hands raking through your hair and wiping away the stream of tears from your cheeks. You have never been filled with such rage. Having finally reached its boiling point, it now consumes you whole, sweeping off in waves and destroying all boundaries. “Confessing is not an easy thing, as you apparentlyknow, so don’t make me seem like the only idiot here. But maybe I was wrong about you if you think of me as just sloppy seconds.”

“I never said that!” Hyunjin barks, standing up to grasp your wrist when you turn away to grab your keys. “Don’t put words in my mouth! I would never, never think of you that way. I just don’t understand why you never spoke up after all this time. I’ve been dying, YN, you have no clue how badly I have been—”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” you snap, yanking your arm away from him, “I told you, Hyunjin. Telling someone you love them isn’t as easy as learning to ride a bike. You’re right, I have turned my back on you. But not intentionally. I’ve been scared, I’m a pussy, whatever.” Biting your top lip as if it will stop the tears that continue to fall freely, you avoid looking at him and glance back to find not only Seungmin, but Jisung and Changbin, too, peeking out from their doors with eyes blown wide with shock. Once you have noticed them, however, they panic and scramble to get out of sight.

Sighing shakily, you look back to Hyunjin and cannot ignore the way your heart sinks at the sight of him. Even upset, he is beautiful. You wonder how much you will see him after this.

“You don’t have to tell me you like me back to make me feel better, Hyunjin,” bouncing on your heels, you suddenly feel exhausted, body and soul heavy with the words you not only spoke, but heard, too. “We can figure this out another day, but for now, I need to go home. I’ll see you.”

Turning away once more, you do not make it very close to the front door before he stops you once more. “Wait, YN,” Hyunjin huffs, smiling softly when he reaches for your hand and you do not pull away. Running his tongue over his lip, he seems to hesitate for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

⇢ epilogue

[rottingflovver]

Random relationship (and just general stuff) headcanons for the ADA squad!!

Atsushi Nakajima 🐯

Soft boi

Smells like strawberries and vanilla

Don't question me on this, he just does

Also probably adores eating strawberries and vanilla, alongside ice cream and anything sweet really, but like, in moderation (it's gotta be a soft food tho)

He also likes fruits and veggies

A healthy boi

His ideal date would be sightseeing, just walking around town with his s/o and admiring the scenery

Would try to be really cheesy and say something like "you're prettier than any location we've been to" but he'd get too embarrassed halfway through so it would just come out as a stammering mess

He's adorable tho, you love him

When sleeping, if you sleep in one bed, he'd legit be like a big cat (no pun intended)

He'd be so warm, and his arms would be wrapped around you in a soft embrace

Prone to having nightmares so please comfort him

Ozamu Dazai 💀

The literal opposite of a soft boi

What I mean by this is that he's a straight up f-boy

Don't @ me, it's official; he's left every woman he's ever been with crying

But don't worry, once he gets attached to you, he'd be all giddy and happy whenever you even exist around him

My dude adores coffee (+ alcohol!)

Doesn't really eat much (please force him to eat more) but he's a sucker for sweets (I feel like he'd be really picky tho, like "no this brand of chocolate is absolute garbage I only eat the finest *insert niche brand literally no one has EVER heard of*"

We love him for it

He'd also really be into salty snacks, anything that has a crunch to it really

Did I mention that he smells like washed out Cologne mixed with his natural scent (+ the most recent way he tried to commit not-living)

His ideal date would be a coffee-date

He knows it's not much but that's where he feels the most relaxed and happy, so he wants you to experience that with him as well

Unlike Atsushi, this boy can FLIRT

Expect a cheesy remark every few seconds

It comes to the point where it's actually kinda annoying

Once you start firing it back at him (it's gotta be something sincere tho) he'd be flustered and kinda flabbergasted

Is also prone to nightmares, but don't expect to see this side of him unless he REALLY really trusts you

Kunikida Doppo 📚

Stoic boi

Idk how to explain this but I feel like the 🗿 emoji really represents him

Also he smells the most normal out of everyone ㅡ literally just some kinda nice perfume and neutral, washed out shampoo (by neutral I mean that you can't really identify what it is, but it's nice)

I feel like he'd be warm

Like not to Atsushi's level, but he'd be a good heat provider if it ever gets windy or rainy

Not to mention how comforting his hugs are, although, extremely awkward (he's so inexperienced with them Lord help him)

Also a sucker for coffee but that's because it's the only thing keeping him sane (and awake, Kunikida go to bed challenge)

He's a really good cook

Like it surprises you how many dishes he actually knows how to make, given how much time his work occupies

He's also more like your dad (or even mom tbh) than your boyfriend, because he's always nagging cuz of some idealistic criteria you failed to meet (ie. "cLeAn YoUr RoOm")

That's why his preference for dates are dates that don't even feel like them

It's literally just everyday activities

Going shopping together? Sure, he's down, gotta get it done anyway and it's nice to have company. You want him to teach you how to make a certain dish? Geez, finally, it's about time you start doing that yourself. You wanna join on a mission? That's a bit too dangerous, but you can meet him afterwards

Like do you get what I'm saying

It's so obvious you two have a thing for each other but he's just so damn dense and yet somehow gets super flustered at the same time

Compliment him on something he's insecure about and he'll be a mess for like 10 whole minutes (by this I mean he genuinely won't be able to utter a word)

Akiko Yosano 🦋

She listens to girl in red

Okay maybe not, but she definitely stans Dreamcatcher

I'll stop you get the point

Her favorite LOONA solo is Heart Attack

(That was the last one I swear)

But fr tho, she looks and acts scary but she's a whole sweetheart

Kind of cold but it's okay you can warm her up (melts if you do that)

Really scared of letting people get too close to her, but if you keep insisting and being nice to her she'll have to accept your love

ALSO fond of coffee (seriously what's with these people) and a mediocre cook (she's trying ok)

Will always be down to try and make something with you, whatever the dish may be

Smells like oranges and roses (not mixed, obvi on different days it's a different vibe)

Also sometimes has a lingering aftertaste of blood due to her job at the ADA and you're kinda just like 😶 about it because?? Do you tell her?? Does she know?? What do you do???

Pain.png

Hint: you should definitely tell her tho

SHE FINALLY HAS A CONSISTENT SHOPPING BUDDY

Although she doesn't force you to carry everything around like she forces everyone else to, because you're special ✨

That would also be your assumption on what her favorite date is, but she can actually be pretty romantic!

Don't expect anything grandeur tho, it's just a fancy dinner date at a restaurant

Poor bb has been planning and saving up for this for months now so please appreciate it

She sleeps like a rock

She's just straight, like a soldier

Oh the irony

But I feel like if you were to hug her she'd instantly melt into your embrace

Is ALSO prone to nightmares (seriously what's with these people) but she doesn't wanna bother you with them

Edogawa Ranpo 👓

Praise him

Please

He has a praise kink

So please praise him

He's surprisingly soft

Maybe it's all the sweets he eats, but he's both soft to hug and soft personality wise

Oh yeah did I mention he emits an aura of candy

Like he walks into the room and you don't even have to look to know that it's him, cuz it'll just smell like sweets all of a sudden

Speaking of, he really adores them

To the point where you'll have to force him to eat something healthy from time to time as well, I mean, seriously, that much sugar CANNOT be good for you

If you give him some homemade baked goods (ei. cupcakes, brownies, cake, ect.) listen he will LITERALLY lose it

You're his angel now

No not even that, you're a GODDESS/GOD to him

(Yes he's that dramatic)

He likes taking you to see detective movies with him where he figures out the killer in the first 3 minutes

Also he gets lost so gosh darn easily; never ever let him out of your sight or he'll just be gone forever

Other than that, he lets you organize and plan the dates, cuz he thinks you could do a way better job at being romantic than he ever could

He's really okay with anything you wanna do ㅡ he's just happy to be with you

(Just don't take him to someplace where he can't eat candy)

Force him to eat spicy food and he's breaking up with you nckdndjc

When sleeping together, he's sprawled out across the mattress

In many ways he's just a big teddy bear, you can climb on top of him and sleep there and he'll just be chill with it

These next few ⬇ are only friendship hcs bc a sis doesn't wanna go to jail

Kenji Miyazawa 🐄

Baby boy, baby

Listen I can't explain it but he smells like grass and that fresh air country smell

Like you just know he does

LOVES getting head-pats

Loves giving them too!!

He's so confused when it comes to city stuff, so he'd much rather chill with you somewhere on a grass field

Expect to play a lot of tag and hide n seek with him!! It'll be extra fun if he drags Kyouka and Atsushi with him as well

Sometimes he'll randomly drop a country fact that seems so obscure to you (think; that one time he mentioned they just throw criminals off a cliff) and you'll just stare at him like; 👁 👄 👁

He loves to eat

Literally anything

"I love cows but I love eating them too"

He mentioned before that he shouldn't eat a lot cuz he has no power when full but you can't just??let him starve??

Give him an apple and water and he'll be fine

Introduce him to arcades and he'll get hooked in a matter of seconds

Kyouka Izumi 🌺

baby girl, baby

Loves to go sightseeing like Atsushi

Kind of stoic in the beginning but as she slowly warms up to you she'll be smiling all the time

Brings out Demon Snow to protect you if a leaf falls a little too threateningly

Cdndjdj no but fr ㅡ she never really had friends that accepted her and wanted to spend time with her so she really doesn't want anything to happen to you

You have to remind her that she's just a kid; she should be allowed to relax and enjoy the moment for a bit

Smells like flowers and death

The death part of it fades away with time

Spends a lot of time with Atsushi!! Meaning you will spend a lot of time with Atsushi as well

If you don't like him I'm sorry but you two just can't be friends

She has no idea what counts as friend activities and what doesn't so expect her to either: a) not propose anything, or b) propose totally obscure stuff

But if something cute catches her attention she'll make an attempt to guide you to it

Like if she thinks you two should eat ice cream she'll stare at a nearby ice cream shop intensely

Sadly missing Junichiro and Fukuzawa cuz I just don't know enough about them 😔 we sad

[jinmindeulle]

the art of love | cs

pairing: choi san x reader ft. mentions of park seonghwa 

word count: 5.1k

genre: artist!reader, florist!san, exes to lovers au | angst, fluff

warnings: minor swearing

find ateez’s masterlist here!

enjoy ♥

How many deep breaths did I have to take to put myself together every time I started driving back to my hometown?

I think I stopped counting five years ago. It didn’t matter how many times I had done that, it had always driven me crazy.

But this time, it was worse.

“Please, text me when you’re on your way. Let’s meet at Jjinsong’s Café before going home. Be safe, love you!”

Yet, I couldn’t be mad. I missed my family too much to be upset over that. It’s been seven years, y/n, get over it!

I replied to my sister with a short message full of heart emojis and I put my phone inside my pocket. I started the car and glanced at my (ex?) apartment floor. Hope to see you empty when I get back.

Last time I visited my family’s home in Namhae, it was all tears and sad eyes. Making my way back to Seoul was one of the hardest things for me. However, every time I went back to the capital city, the driver’s seat was always taken by the same man, who at least tried to make my trip bearable by holding one of my hands when he could. But that day, I was the one driving, all alone.

I couldn’t break the news to my mother over the phone. She had gotten attached to him over the years. But she didn’t knew the whole truth, and honestly, going back to Namhae was way cheaper than calling my mom to tell her that I had rejected my boyfriend’s marriage proposal without second thoughts, and that my life was just a mess in general.

And I also needed to see her, my dad, my sister and my nephews. They were going to help healing my open scars. At least try to.

I picked a random playlist and kept it on repeat the whole trip. Fortunately, being a Thursday, the traffic was not that bad, especially at such an early hour. I really didn’t want to stay under that roof any longer. I felt miserable there. Why did I have to put it off that much?

“Why did you have to put it off that much?”

“I wonder exactly the same”

My sister looked at me with a raised eyebrow while she quietly sipped her coffee.

It had always amazed me how calm and collected Eunjung acted and reflected in situations like mine. She would never get upset unless it was the end of the world, and that hardly ever happened.

“I knew something was wrong since the last time you came home with him”

“But it was not that bad back then”

“You sure?”

“Well…”

He had been promoted a week before and his father had announced that he was soon going to retire, leaving him his position as CEO of one of the greatest companies in South Korea. It had easily gone to his head, and I wasn’t able to stand staying in the same room every time he brought that up.

“Maybe you’re right” I sighed, quietly stirring my own coffee. “I honestly don’t know, Jung. I didn’t like to think about it because it meant doing something about it. And I think I was way too comfortable living like that to try and change it.”

“And he made you do it”

“Pretty much, yes. I couldn’t get married to him. I don’t think I loved him enough to sacrifice what I wanted in life just for him”

“I’m glad you did that, y/n. It means you’re still chasing your dreams”

“I mean, yeah. I have always been. Not actively, but I kept dreaming about having my very own gallery, and everyone in Seoul wanting to have my art pieces on their living room’s walls.”

“Why not everyone in the country? Or in the world?”

“My dreams are more of the realistic type, Jung” I chuckled, munching my last chocolate cookie.

“How are you going to tell mom?”

“With your help?” I smiled innocently, trying to display the best puppy face I could master.

“And how do you want me to do that? ‘Hi mom, y/n here broke up with Seonghwa right after he proposed to her because it was not the life she wanted! Please don’t be that happy, it will break her poor heart!’”

“Eunjung! Please!” I begged “She won’t leave me alone and…”

“She will” my oldest and only sister interrupted me, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “There’s been a rumour going around…”

“Wait, what’s going on?”

Eunjung sipped from her blue coffee mug and looked at me with the same innocent eyes I had displayed some seconds ago. Then, she quietly put the mug down and got closer to me over the wooden table, encouraging me to do the same. Once we were close enough to avoid being heard by the rest of the customers, she whispered in my ear.

“Rumour has it that Choi San is getting divorced”

I resoundingly sat back down, looking at my sister with a mix of weird emotions in my eyes. I hadn’t heard his name in ages. Not because I happened to not hear it, but just because I had deliberately asked my family not to bring his name up when I was around.

“Eunjung…”

“His wife cheated on him”

“Please, stop” I murmured, tightly closing my eyes, trying to get rid of the million memories that my brain decided to bring back after so many years of suppressing them. “You know how I feel about him”

“You’re telling me that after more than seven years you’re still upset about him and what you went through? You were like twenty years old, c’mon! You’re a woman now, y/n!”

“I was twenty two, and yes, I’m over it. But I don’t want to know, hear or talk about him. He’s dead to me. He’s been dead to me since the day I moved to Seoul, and will be until the end of my days”

“I didn’t know it was that deep”

“You were too busy taking care of your babies, Jung. And I’m not complaining here, I just know that you never got the full story, but it’s OK. It’s in the past now”

“You sure?”

“Stop making me question my life!” I cried, throwing a used paper napkin right at her face.

“What do you want me to say?”

My mom had always been understanding. She would calmly nod and hug me, telling me that everything was going to be okay, and letting me soak her blouse with my teenage tears. However, there were situations in which you could never guess what her reaction would be. And that was one of those times.

“Honey, I think we all knew that you were going to end things with that guy” my dad intercepted “but we weren’t aware of the fact that it was that bad”

“In all honestly, I wasn’t either” I murmured “it was just my routine. I had been waking up next to him for nearly five years. I had a job that let me live comfortably and not worry about anything else than buying expensive clothes every now and then because I was supposed to be accompanying Seonghwa in every fucking company’s party” I allowed me to cry for the first time, letting the pain and desperation out “I was living like a damn princess. But I never wanted that. I had never wanted that!” I sobbed. A pair of gentle arms held me tight, and I instantly knew that it was my mom. I hugged her back, holding onto her like she was the only oxygen mask available in a crashing plane.

“I know dear, I know. And I’m proud of you. You did what you wanted to do, because you should always do that. And it’s OK. It will never be a bad thing to follow your heart, y/n”

I nodded, drying the flowing tears with the back of my sleeve. “Thank you mom, dad. I love you”

“We love you too, darling” my dad affectionately kissed my cheek, chuckling when I showed him a weak smile. “Why don’t you take a shower while I finish preparing lunch? I bet your nephews want to see you as much as you do”

“Yeah, will do” I nodded, grabbing my large pastel purple suitcase. “I need to recharge before seeing those little demons”

The whole Thursday and the day before had been an emotional rollercoaster, so I expected to get the sleep I deserved. But sometimes things don’t go as planned. Just like my life, really.

The first night that I slept in my old room was just a blessing. No alarm clocks were rushing me out of bed, no angry faces were shaking me out of sleep, and no boring tasks were waiting for me in my office’s desk.  

“Aunt, wake up!”

I opened one of my eyes when the curtain was drawn and sunlight hit my face. I was about to bury my head in one of my pillows when the oldest of my nephews, Jiwon, took it away from me and slapped me with it.

“Mommy’s taking us to the park so we can have a picnic as breakfast!”

“And told us to wake you up so you can go with us!”

“Please, auntie! Wake up!”

I wanted to scream. I swear to God I loved those kids, but sometimes they made me think twice about having my own in the future. Yeah, well, it won’t happen anyways. You’re single now, and you’ll probably be forever.

“C’mon auntie! Or mommy will be upset!” Jihwan cried.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Go tell your mom that I’ll be downstairs in like 10 minutes”

“Okey dokey!”

Getting ready in the mornings was not my favourite thing to do. I liked to pick whatever was clean in my closet and wear it like it was a Prada dress. Nonetheless, it was never like that for me. I had to be well dressed. I had to wear the actual Prada dress. I just couldn’t choose.

But that day, I could.

After taking a shower, I took my old, worn out pair of jeans out of my suitcase and put them on.

“It’s been so long since I wore these jeans” I whispered, caressing the fabric.

Next, I chose a simple, colourful shirt that I myself had intervened years ago, and tucked it in. The most comfortable pair of sneakers finished my look.

“You look like you’re twenty again”

“Oh Lord Jesus, knock next time!” I shouted, startled by my sister’s voice.

“You’re back to being you. I like that” she smiled at me from the door frame. “But hurry up! These kids are driving me crazy down there”

Taking a look around that familiar yet so long forgotten park, made me feel emotional once again. That was the reason why I always tried to avoid it every time I decided to return to Namhae. My hometown brought back too many memories, memories that I had decided to erase seven years ago.

But I was tired of it. And at that moment, my future was uncertain — what I had always feared the most. Bringing back painful memories was nothing for me at that point.

“Fluffy is crazy!”

“Give it to me, Hwanie” I took the red dog leash from my youngest nephew’s hand, trying to prevent the huge dog from running around the park chasing the ducks, and probably throwing to the ground the old ladies that were feeding them. “When did this dog get this big?”

“We are feeding him puppy food that makes him stronger, auntie!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t d… Fluffly!” the dog was able to release himself from the leash while I was giving wise advice, and started running towards the ducks, leaving us four way too far away to stop him before a massacre happened.

“Oh no!”

I reacted as fast as I could, although I knew I was way too late. My legs were not that fast, and even if they were, how was I supposed to have enough strength to pull him away from innocent ducks and old ladies?

Just when he was about to throw himself over the lake, a man in a black hoodie that covered most of his form took him from his collar and kept him under control. I kept running towards them, busy thinking about what that crazy dog would do to the stranger if he made a false step.

But I was stunned — and out of breath — when I found out that the beast was happily wagging his tail to the man, while he petted him. “Are you still misbehaving, Fluffy? Didn’t I teach you to stay calm near the ducks?”

“Uhm… hi?” I breathed out, trying to call attention to the man who still had his back to me. “The dog…”

“Are you still struggling to ta…”

My eyes watered in a matter of seconds. The man that I was successfully avoiding for years was standing right in front of me, looking the way I remembered him, like seven years had done nothing to him.

But he looked tired. Like he was going through hell and was needing a break from it all. His eyes had all the time shown his feelings, and back then, I was the only one able to read him like an open book. I knew in an instant that he was feeling like crap, but there was something else.

And maybe he was not the man that I used to know. Well, not maybe. He wasn’t the Choi San I had been in love with. The Choi San that I had cherished like no one else, who I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with and grow old together.

And I was not the same either.

“I…”

“It’s been so long” he sighed, looking me in the eye. I felt intimidated. I had forgotten how powerful his glances were, no matter the situation. He had always managed to do that to me, and I wasn’t ready to go through it once again. I had been invested in studying his glances way too many times in the past, and I was never able to reach a reasonable conclusion. So I just settled for leaving that matter alone.

“Yeah…” I exhaled, playing with the read leash in my hands.

“I didn’t know you were visiting your family”

“You know when I come here?”

“Of course I do. Everybody knows. It’s a small town, y/n”

I closed my eyes tightly upon hearing my name leave his lips. I felt like crying all over again, and I wasn’t willing to let him see me like that anymore. He had had enough of it. We both had.

“Should have guessed it” I nodded, looking down and avoiding his gaze. “Can you give me Fluffy back?”  

“Oh yeah, sorry” he petted the dog for the last time while I secured the leash back on his collar “He’s been misbehaving a lot lately”

“You know him?”

“I helped Eunjung a couple of times with him. She told me it’s been hard to keep him quiet when they take him out to the park so I offered to help. I need to take a break from life sometimes, and he’s great company”

“He seems to like you a lot” I smiled weakly, looking down at the happy dog who was still wagging his tail while looking at San with what seemed like adoration.

“I think so, yeah” he giggled softly, petting him once again. “He’s nice, but he needs some rules before it goes out of hand”

“I’ll make sure to tame him, then”

“You’re staying?” I mustered all of my courage, and looked up to meet his eyes. His voice tone had changed tremendously, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. This was a new Choi San for me after all.

“For some weeks, yeah. I still don’t know how many, to be honest”

“You’re on a little vacation with your boyfriend?”

“I…” I was about to reply, but then it just hit me. I was talking to Choi San, the man that had marked my whole existence with burning, hurtful words. He had given me everything and taken it away from me as fast as he could. So no, I was not giving him explanations. “Yeah. Well, goodbye, San.”

And I left as fast as I got there.

After my encounter with San, I kept thinking about him and everything that happened in those years together. Not only the tragic ending, but also the beautiful things. And that made me realize that I could at least get part of it back.

Although Eunjung saw everything, she didn’t bring it up. She knew that I was struggling — and I’m pretty sure she heard me that night.

So while a soft breeze accompanied me as I was watching the night skies in the petit balcony of my room, I decided to make my way towards the basement to find the boxes full of the stuff I had left there and never used ever again. Many oleos were dry and unusable, but some others seemed to be just fine. I took one of the empty canvases and my easel as well as my collection of paintbrushes, and went back to my balcony.

“How had I missed you” I whispered, looking at my empty canvas. Tears gathered in my eyes, and a sad smile appeared on my lips as they rolled down my cheeks. “I really missed this”

But although I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more than a soft stroke which was supposed to be the very same night sky above me.

My hand didn’t respond. It was painful.

So I let it all out. My desperate cries were most probably heard around the neighbourhood, but that was my last concern. The only thing that was supposed to make me happy turned out to be a total failure.

I had no purpose. I had ruined my career as a painter years ago. Why would I paint a night sky that would be seen by no one but me? That would be recognized by no one but me?

San was right.

He had been right all along.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you ran into San yesterday?”

Mornings at home were usually not that noisy, but that day it had to be. My mom had organized a tea party with her girlfriends, and I was supposed to help her out as the only one who was free around the house. My dad was out of town for the weekend because of work, and my sister decided to go out with her sons, probably trying to get away from our mom’s demands.

“Eunjung told you?” I sighed, mixing the cupcake mix faster than I was supposed to so that I could get out of there.

“Yep” she nodded.

“I don’t want to talk about him. You know he’s dead to me”

But even though I said it bluntly, I was feeling like that sentence had no meaning to me anymore.

“You’re being too rude, y/n”

“I’m being honest, mom.” I stopped my eager mixing and looked at her, supporting my weight against the kitchen counter, and crossed my arms over my chest. “I know you and everyone in this town love San. But I don’t, and I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Please”

“Fine” she sighed “Then lend me a hand with the stra— oh Dear God!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was supposed to bake a strawberry cake but I totally forgot about buying the strawberries”

I rolled my eyes. Totally my mom’s behaviour. “I’ll go to the supermarket. Anything else?”

I shouldn’t have asked that.

Making my way down the aisles, I struggled to find everything that my mom asked me to buy.

“Where the hell are these fucking powders?” I murmured, slowly walking with my cart and carefully reading each package. “Well, not here”

I looked in front of me to check the signs over the aisles, but my eyes encountered something very different.

A painted night sky.

I knew that painting. I knew that night sky.

Those soft strokes and the shiny details on the moon were familiar. Too familiar.

Of course. They were mine.

And once I understood that I was not looking at an actual painting but the back of an intervened denim jacket, it all came crushing down once again.

But I didn’t have enough time to run away.

He turned around and saw me. I froze like I hadn’t just seen him the day before. My eyes became glossy once again. Keep it together, y/n!

“I thought that yesterday was a coincidence. But I don’t believe that anymore”

San was right in front of me now, a couple of meters away from me. He was carrying some instant noodles in his hands and a bottle of water.

“Let’s not do this, please” I shook my head, tightly gripping the cart’s handle.

“We need to talk, y/n”

“There’s nothing to talk about, San” I gasped, avoiding his eyes.

“If your eyes keep watering whenever you see me and my heart keeps pounding whenever I see you, then yes, there’s a lot of talking to do” he calmly stated, taking a step closer to me “I know you have been avoiding me, and I cannot blame you alone. I also had whenever I knew you were around. But this needs to stop” he sighed “I am aware of the fact that you’re in a relationship and I don’t int—“

“I’m not” I interrupted him, looking at him in the eye “I left him. That’s why I’m here”

“I’m… I’m so sorry to hear that” he said, and I could clearly see the sincerity in his eyes.

“It’s okay…” I whispered.

“Can we please meet so we can finally say whatever we have to say to each other before you leave?”

“San, I… I find it really hard to talk to you” I came clean, playing with the ends of my shirt “You hurt me a lot, and… and I really don’t want to keep digging in the same old scars. But maybe…” I took a deep breath “Maybe it will help to finally close them”

He nodded “I know, y/n. I need this. We need this”

“What about your wife?”

I just had to ask. He knew about me and Seonghwa, so it was only fair.

“It’s a long story, but in a nutshell, I’m divorcing her”

“I’m so—“

“Don’t bother” he shook his head, chuckling with a noticeable pain in his voice “I’m not sorry, so no one should be for me. Especially you.”

I don’t know why I was so nervous. It was just San. Choi San, that beautiful, talented and perfect man.

And that was the problem.

Choi San had always been a mystery. A simple mystery. Back then, he liked to show me that he needed to wear nothing more than a dazzling smile to make my day better. He used to take me out at night to stargaze because he thought that I could find inspiration up there.

“You need to paint these, baby” he had said “I know you’ll do an outstanding job”

And of course I painted them. Every single one of them.

“Could you pretty please paint this same sky on the back of my denim jacket?” he had asked.

“Why do you want me to do that, Sanshine?” I had chuckled, looking up from his chest so that I could see his stunning features illuminated by the stars.  

“Because today I feel like I could do anything I want with my life. I have you, so that’s enough” he had replied, sweetly kissing me afterwards.

I hadn’t been enough, though.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when I felt his sweet perfume coming near me. I turned my head to my right, and I was able to distinguish his slender form from afar. He was still wearing that denim jacket and carried a large envelope in his hands.

“Hey there” he softly smiled.

“Hi San” I replied, trying to get rid of any sign of desperation in my voice.

“Do you want us to stay here or you prefer to go where used to… hang out?”

“I’m perfectly fine here” I sat back down on the bench, and he cautiously did the same, both of us in each end of it. The evening was warm and a nice breeze hit our faces. Although there were no stars yet, they were on their way.

And I honestly wasn’t ready to stargaze with San.

“Shall I start by saying that I am truly sorry?” after some minutes of silence, San broke the ice. “I never meant to hurt you like that. But I know that saying sorry now it’s meaningless. I just want you to let it all out, say the things that you wanted to yell at that 23 year old me but you never got to” the sorrow in his voice was evident, and I believed him. I felt how sorry he was for what he told me that night.

But it still haunted me. So I had to tell him.

“You ruined my dreams, San.” I whispered, already feeling hot tears go down my face. “You were my only fan back then. You encouraged me to keep going, practising, learning, and experimenting. But that night… you just threw that away. Why would you tell me that I was never going to be successful? Why would you yell right at my face that I was talentless?” I sobbed “That my paintings were nothing special and that I would never become a renowned artist if I kept painting night skies, when you were the one who encouraged me to do that in the first place?” And just as he wanted me, I let it all out. “You buried my dreams. You crushed them and you even made sure to throw them to the trash before leaving. I hated you for so long! I despised you! You were my best friend who suddenly became my worst enemy. But why? I just want to know that. I don’t care if you still think that my paintings were garbage. That’s my last concern” I sighed, violently drying the still falling tears “I just want to know why”

I looked at him, and it made me feel a little bit better to know that I was not the only one crying about it. Although he kept silent, his cheeks were soaked, and his eyes reddened and puffy. “You were talking about leaving Namhae” he whispered, looking down at the grass that surrounded us “and I couldn’t go with you, so I just needed you to stay. But after you moved to Seoul, I realized that I was being selfish and that I thought of my happiness over yours. I was going to be happy if you stayed with me, working at the flower shop and painting night skies as a hobby. But you would never have been if you did that” he cried, letting out a sorrowed and choppy breath. “And for the record, I never meant those words, y/n. I never believed that, and I know for a fact that I’m still your number one fan. You are the most talented person I know. You are amazing, and you more than anyone in this world deserve to be recognized out there. I’m so sorry for making you believe the opposite.”

I stayed silent, processing San’s explanation.

If we just had talked it out back then, maybe, just maybe…

“We were young and stupid” I finally replied. “I was trying to get out of Namhae to become an artist and I tried to take you with me. You were building your flower shop here and you tried to make me stay. It was never going to work out even if we tried” I reasoned, getting closer to him.

“But I shouldn’t have said that anyways” he shook his head “I prevented you from pursuing your dreams”

“I was stupid enough to believe that and stopped trying. I should have kept painting despite your words. I now see it” Slowly, San raised his head and looked at me in the eye. I weakly smiled at him, taking one of his hands for the first time in seven years. “I’m sorry too, San. I blamed you for my misery when I was the one who had to go after my dreams anyways”

“We both fucked up. But it’s on the past now, and we’re still young” he tightened his grip on my hand and shook the mysterious envelope with the other “I don’t know about you, but I just came from my attorney’s office. I’m officially divorced”

“I can’t believe our lives turned out this way” I quietly laughed, playing with San’s fingers. “If you had asked my 20 year old self, I probably would have said we were having our own house full of flowers and paintings by now, and why not add a couple of wedding rings. I was delusional”

“Not really, y/n. I expected that as well” his free hand softly caressed my cheek, travelling down to my jaw. He carefully grabbed my chin, making me look at him. I felt my eyes watering again, and San raised an eyebrow, showing me his confused gaze “Is there something wrong, baby?” he whispered.

I let out my tears, because I wasn’t trying to hide them from him anymore. “I’m just happy” I replied “I used to think that seeing you again was a mistake. That living in my luxurious Seoul apartment with a man that I no longer loved was what I needed to live the decent life that I was supposed to have. And now I know that it was just me trying to supress the urge that I had to come back to you. Because despite the horrible ending, you made me be who I am today. You loved me endlessly, San. And I hope you still do” I admitted, blushing like I was that 20 year old once again “Because I know I never stopped loving you, Sanshine. Even when I hated you the most”

He replied in the most beautiful way. A sweet, awaited, and loving kiss.

Although it wasn’t, it felt like the first time. No rushing, no hurting. Just love.

The love that I was waiting to get from someone that actually never loved me like San did.

The love that San was waiting to get from someone that actually never loved him like I did.

The love that we both deserved to get after so long.  

— jinmindeulle ♥ 

[anonil88]

FF: "I hate us sometimes."

Rue x Jules

Someone mentioned how Jules looked more stunned to see Rue than happy, also a mutual of mine made a comparison gif set from the first time we saw that shot and the teaser clip in a post that was out before the new teaser we saw.

[Also on AO3 here]

[Listened to Ethel Cain writing.Not this song but this song feels like what they are projecting S2 to be.]

Drabble idea from @creativepromptsforwriting . I'm not in a great mood but someone suggested I write a continuation piece to after-school anime. I'm not always motivated by messages like that but i can write sad stuff pretty ok and fast when I'm not in a great place so why not. This is not exactly a continuation of that fluffy cute story at all. It is more like prepping myself for this ship to get hit with more cannonballs before it can even hit shore or less turbulent waters. Aka lots of angst is coming in season 2. This may get a part 2 thats less sad, keyword MAY. Excuse typos this was written no edits in my notes at 4-7am.

"I hate us sometimes!" Jules yells with her entire chest into the empty bathroom.

The words echo across the pale pink stalls and contrasting tiles. The already dejected girl sitting on the floor bites her bottom lip with disgrace.

This was her fault, she can't stay clean. She can try but she won't even do that. In a matter of weeks shes managed to push her mother, her sister, and her lover away. Lexi is still there and it feels like she always will but Rue can sense that thread has been getting thin. Its not like none of them understand because they do....kind of. They sympathize with an illness that has her stuck in concrete she pours herself. But, one person can only bare so much guilt and responsibility before you break them.

So here she is on the bathroom floor under a hand dryer, a crushed pill scattered in her lap, and her girlfriend that's not her girlfriend anymore yelling at her. Yelling just like Leslie when she got fed up with asking Rye to take out the trash every night she forgot, because the girl was too focused on getting to her new dealers for a re-up. Not that her mom knew where this new dealer even stayed which got a bit sketchy at times.

Sketchy describes the past few weeks of this spiral down perfectly. Rue stares up at the girl who looks dumbfounded at Rue's callous nature. Getting high at school was whatever but, using and then trying to pass her absence from Jules life on "processing emotions" was low. All Jules asked was for honesty and it wasn't getting any easier to hide the truth and Rue didn't enjoy telling Jules the truth. The truth led to this look on everyone's face, regret that they'd ever gotten mixed up with her in their lives.

"My name means regret....why would my parents name me that," Rue wipes her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie.

Jules starts typing angrily on her phone and exhales, "It also is another way to spell roux like Ru Paul. Roux is an ingredient for food."

"Stop making me feel better," Rue deadpans, "you can just stay angry at me."

Jules hears the side of Rue that is arrogant and mean bubbling at the surface. She's tired of tip toeing around all of this just to make sure Rue isn't hurling herself off a cliff. Rue is already waist deep in the deep end of a pool filled with quick sand. Jules knows it, Lexi knows it, and fuck so does everyone else at their fucking school. And, everyone just expects her to pick up the pieces for Rue after every slip up and fall.

She fell hard for the Rue thats funny and shy, the one who squeezes her arms tighter at sleepovers, and sends her little purple heart emojis to let her know she's safe. Rue let's her know that she's always felt safe with her but safety doesn't exist when you're falling head first into a mattress 20 feet away. Jules buries her head in her hands and swallows a sob.

Everytime this girl, her girl, gets 3 steps forward it's 22 steps back. Jules isn't always naive she knows this is just what the journey to sobriety looks like. It's praying to religions you don't believe that your mom will show up to your birthday not high or drunk. Its not being angry at your mom for being an addict but its being angry she chose it over you. She chose God, pills, and alcohol over knowing that her daughter is her. And not forgiving her will mean she'll never have to worry about her mother showing up to save her unannounced ever again. Jules can't help the way the tears make her body shake and her heart hurt. She knows its not her fault but it doesn't hurt any less knowing that Rue can't just choose her.

It will never be that simple and that wouldn't even be healthy. She can't give her girl whatever it is that makes this all so hard. If she could resurrect the dead maybe then they could both get a second chance. Maybe they'd get a few more kisses in that feel like the weight of their worlds had shifted back into place.

Jules drops her tote bag in a dry sink, "What made you have to get high this time Rue? Or did you just hate that you had to actually fucking face me?"

Rue looks up at Jules with a hand on her head. Her forhead is wrinkled and scowling. Fighting halfway through the class period in a bathroom was not a kind of avoiding she ever tried. At least not with Jules, maybe with all the other people she managed to burn bridges with.

"I could never hate you Jules," Rue hears her own voice crack at the mention of Jules' name on her lips. All she wants to do is put out this burning bridge even if it means Jules comes out unburnt. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

The blonde shrugs her shoulders where long blonde hair used to sway, "I don't know either Rue."

A teacher abruptly opens the door and stares at Jules, "Oh Kay, time to get to class Ms. Vaughn." Jules rolls her eyes at the teacher and gathers her bag and a wet paper towel. Her eyes have been crying too much to not be puffy and she still has several classes to get through. Even one Rue happens to be in although her therapist wrote a letter suggesting her class schedule be void of Rue.

Rue tucks her feet close to her body, hoping to go unnoticed and giving herself time to plan a way to leave school grounds. She is not about to spend an entire day sitting by herself at lunch or avoiding Jules to give them both a chance to cool down. They don't really talk these things out like they should because she is too worried about saying the wrong or right thing. She doesn't even glance her way as she pushes past the teacher to get to class.

"You too Ms. Bennett," the teacher clears her throat staring at the girl curled up and covering her face.

Rue sighs to herself. She is really starting to fucking hate all of this.

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Elisabeth & Noah in the origin world (2/?)

First date

He is not sure if he should text her or not.

On Monday, upon waking up with every ounce of alcohol finally off his bloodstream and after he has spent the entire Sunday recovering from the worst hangover he’s experienced since his college years, Noah is back on his reserved nature, the timid one, the one lacking the amount of whiskey-infused courage it takes for him to deal with matters revolving around human interaction, especially with women. He’s not a social outcast per se, but his confidence mostly accompanies him in the career-oriented side of his life.

It’s not like he’s not interested. He crossed the line of “interested” when he stooped to the lowest level possible, looking her up on Instagram, of all things, via Agnes’ account.

(His little sister has a long list of questions and he has a long list of brotherly favors that he promised to fulfill in exchange for her seven-digit password.)

She doesn’t have a vast presence on social media, a quality they apparently share. He keeps a long forgotten Facebook account and a professional LinkedIn one and acts blissfully ignorant towards any other platform that isn’t YouTube. Her Facebook account - oh yeah, he checked that one too - is a mix between personal and business, opinion posts about socio-politcal matters on the grounds of their country to the entirety of Europe to the endlessness of the globe and take-action events in regard to the causes she supports, occasionally interrupted by a reunion selfie with an old friend or a brunch date with her mom and her sister. That particular post redirected to some Instagram link, so, unwittingly, his curiosity was peaked.

Her Instagram account is colourful, vivid, filled with adventures and laughter. Just from an idle scroll, Elisabeth Doppler - Winden born, age twenty-four, Energy Engineer, Berlin based - can easily be perceived as someone that quite enjoys life. Her group of associates and friends seems endless and her gallery consists of photos of dinners with young professionals, pub-crawling with girlfriends, road tripping across Europe, Erasmus Programme memories, tree-planting projects, women’s rights marches, snorkelling, paragliding. Noah spends the whole Sunday afternoon feeling overwhelmed and in awe, tapping picture after picture, mesmerized by her lovely smile that adds a softer undertone to her busy bee of a life.

He finds it fascinating, her mindset and her lifestyle, but, at the same time, he fears that their personalities may clash, his more keeping-to-himself attitude the polar opposite to her seemingly outgoing one. Then, it’s also the age barrier. He thinks that thirty-two might be a little off-putting for someone in their early twenties, a decade that comes with a whole other set of expectations and milestones than the one he is currently in. The major problem, though - a chronic problem of his - is that he’s thinking too much.

Fortunately, that’s not a thing they have in common.

Elisabeth texts him on Monday morning, at 9.54 to be exact. He’s in the middle of a lecture, teaching History of Religion 101 to an auditorium filled with sleepy freshmen, when his phone screen lights up, its glow illuminating in the dimly lit room. It’s a simple “good morning” paired up with a smiling face emoji but it’s enough to cause his heart to race and his mind to short-circuit, leaving him reciting things off the projection screen without really registering what comes out of his mouth until the lesson is over. With sweaty hands and in the mist of internal panic laced with excitement, he texts her back at 10.38 an equally casual “hey, hope you’re having a good morning, too”. He beats himself up for not asking her anything the minute he presses send, like, how she’s doing, if she’s at work - literally anything, Noah, Jesus Christ, now she’ll think that you don’t care, nice work, you idiot - especially as the hours pass and there’s silence from her end. He spends the rest of the day drowning in miserable self-pity, checking his dead phone literally every minute, until there’s a new message from her, telling him that she had a very busy day at work and asking him how his day was.

(Thank God, because he was about to send her an embarrassing word vomit apologizing for having zero social skills whatsoever.)

They continue their back and forth texting for the rest of the week, casual conversations about their everyday lives turning into debates about the best places to eat and the best movies of all time to metaphysics and social justice that keep them up till the small hours of morning, Elisabeth sending him blowing-a-kiss face emoji’s for goodnight and Noah smiling like a silly teenager at his phone screen. Right in the middle of one of their more “serious” conversations, Elisabeth venting about income-based discrimination, Noah asks her out. It’s abrupt and totally irrelevant to the context of the rest of the bubbles that litter their personal chat at that moment but he can’t really help himself. She is a woman he wants - needs - to know more about, not through a screen, but in person, sit there and watch her express all the things she has in her brilliant mind.

They arrange to meet on Friday night, after she finishes work, since Noah has to attend a seminar in Dresden on the weekend and since both of them are too impatient to wait any longer. Noah arrives first at the bar she gave him directions to and decides on waiting for her outside but decides against smoking a cigarette, even though he’s itching to, out of habit and nerves. She rounds the corner barely five minutes later, strutting towards him in an electric blue pantsuit and a plaid maxi grey coat, her whole face brightening with a stunning smile when she notices him, and, just like that, everything else fades, his anxiety about their first official date, his mental fatigue after holding office hours, his insecurities, his worries and she is the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters.

A wave of panic washes over him momentarily, his inner perfectionist making a huge deal out of not having a clear plan of how to greet her. A handshake is too impersonal, a kiss too presumptuous. Ultimately, he attempts an awkward, one-arm kinda hug - which is ridiculous because a) he’s a freaking grown-up and b) her tongue has already been inside his mouth and he doesn’t recall his hands being particularly respectful the night of Jonas’ wedding, when she pushed him against a wall and stole his breath with a glorious kiss - an action she probably misconstrues as a leaning in and this results in them doing a clumsy dance right there on the pavement, but she giggles and her eyes shine with amusement, so his self-deprecating frown gives its place to a handsome smirk, when she moves closer to him and leaves a soft peck on his cheek, as a belated greeting. She smells of sensuous jasmine and intoxicating amber, her perfume aery but with a spicy twist that succeeds in stimulating all of his senses. He holds the door for her to enter and his hand lingers lightly on the small of her waist, as they make their way through the tables to the bar.

They settle on two empty barstools and order their signature drinks, Gin and Tonic and Whiskey on the Rocks. Elisabeth takes her phone out of her tote bag but before she gets to type anything, Noah holds her attention. He thinks for a moment and then makes his hands move, forming tentative gestures that lack any grace or flow but succeed in signing “It’s nice to see you. How have you been?”.

Elisabeth beams, impressed, her lips mouthing an excited “how?”. He just shrugs and shyly pulls out of his messenger bag a thick sign language book, a recent purchase of his which he’s been studying with every chance he got. Her whole face softens, touched by his sweet gesture, before she types on her phone.

That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you. Even though you shouldn’t have; apart from technology’s assistance, I’m pretty good at reading lips.

He uses his phone to reply. Yeah, I gathered that much. I just want to talk to you in your language.

The look that she gives him under her fluttering eyelashes is so tender and lovely that he can’t help but stare, a foolish grin plastered on his lips and a hot blush painted on his neck, creeping from the collar of his grey shirt.

They talk - type, to be exact, with the occasional mimic of a word or two - about everything and nothing, fast thumbs trying to keep up with their effortless conversation on the notifications’ section of their phones. He learns about her childhood in Winden, her hellish pranks to her older sister Franziska, her loving parents that separated when she was a preteen but never stopped caring about each other or being there for their daughters. She talks about her hometown friends and her honor roll high school experience, moving to Berlin to attend university and falling in love with the lively vibe of the city, getting her Master’s in Energy Engineering and recently landing her first job on the field at the Tiedemann Enterprises, a very prestige corporation in the industry of renewable energy. She’s still particularly excited about this, being part of a team of researchers thriving to improve energy efficiency based on an environmental friendly strategy.

Noah tells her about his memories as a young boy in Vechta, how he lost his mother when he was only six, due to complications while giving birth to his sister, how his father was never really in the picture after that tragic incident. How the local church and especially Sic Mundus, a church based organization for neglected children and troubled teens, contributed to his and Agnes’ well-being and education, helping him land a university scholarship and get a job, so he could afford moving his sister to Berlin, too, after he got his bachelor degree, and offering her a more stable living situation and a normal life. How, apparently, his aptitude for the humanities and his upbringing in a religious environment drove him to follow an academic career in religious studies, a field that he finds beyond interesting, especially its anthropology aspect.

Somewhere along the conversation, too absorbed into their own little world to register the fewer people in the bar and the clock ticking towards closing time, his hand, as if it has a mind of its own, slides slowly over the wooden top of the bar, her slender fingers meeting his hesitant approach halfway. They’re barely touching but it’s electrifying, the feeling of even an inch of his skin against her skin so exhilarating and powerful, like the impact of meteors colliding or the universe exploding into pieces. It feels like a Déjà vu, like a glitch in the Matrix, like they know each other from the past or recognize each other from their future. It’s a feeling both of them kept seeking, a feeling that they silently vow never to lose.

Noah pays for the drinks, despite her objections, and Elisabeth insists that, next time, the bill is on her. He smirks, a tad tipsy on the whiskey, a lot tipsy on her, and teases her that he must have done something right, because this is the first time a girl agrees on a second date with him this fast. She just shrugs, a cheeky smirk playing on her lip-glossed lips, as she types, if I left it up to you, we’d still be on the PG-13 “good morning” texts. He laughs, an effortless, loud laugh and he catches her staring - no, not staring, checking him out - the corner of her longing smile trapped between her teeth. He fights the insane urge to kiss her senseless right here in this empty bar with the bartender mentally plotting their death for keeping him past his shift.

He accompanies her to the U-Bahn station and his heart skips a heartbeat at the prospect of sharing ten more minutes with her, according to the information display over their heads. She wishes him to have fun in Dresden and he confesses that he wishes he could stay here, to spend the weekend with you, he wants to add but refrains, in fear of confessing too much too fast. Instead, he tells her that he had an amazing night and he’s so relieved and purely happy when she nods vigorously in agreement, her low ponytail bobbing lightly and her beautiful face radiating even under the harsh fluorescent light of the station. The atmosphere around them is suddenly very charged, their bodies gravitating towards each other, and their eyes engage in a stare off that speaks volumes and holds so much unresolved tension. He can hear the bright yellow train approaching and his breath quickens as he takes a brave step forward, invades her personal space, and his eyes declare defeat, falling to her lips. He’s the one to kiss her this time, a soft peck that turns into a needy battle of dominance when she melts into his arms and angles her face to kiss him more, deeper, hungry mouths dancing together in passion, his shoulders hunching over her smaller figure, his hands cradling her cheeks. Her own hands sneak under his coat and suit jacket, delivering a heavy caress over the material of his shirt before she closes her arms around his waist, Noah letting a trembling exhale into the kiss and his lips forming a lazy smirk against her giggling ones. Smugly, Elisabeth tugs lightly at his lower lip with her teeth, a naughty essence to the playful action, and this fuels another round of heated kissing, their bodies pushing and pulling, their heavy PDA a thing they’ll be embarrassed for in the morning. For tonight, though, they’re just two people getting drunk on each other in the middle of a train station, as if tomorrow will be the end of world and they’ll cease to exist.

When they pull back for air her lips are lipgloss-free and her eyelids, still closed, are fluttering over scarlet cheekbones. Noah has never witnessed a most beautiful sight in his life.

Elisabeth gets on the train with a dazed and dazzling smile, promising to text him when she arrives at her apartment. They refuse to let go of each other’s eyes until the train vanishes into the dark tunnel and Noah is left there, on the empty station, a finger reaching to his lips, not quite believing that the fruity taste of lipgloss that still lingers in his mouth or the woman whose lips left their trace behind are real and not a product of his wildest fantasies. There’s an extra hop in his steps as he walks up the stairs to catch the train to the opposite direction, boarding the vehicle at the last minute and sliding quickly on a seat, lovesick smile intact and a newfound feeling of contentment and thrill nested in his chest.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and types, unable to wait any longer.

I get back early on Sunday. Would you like to have dinner with me?

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Still Hurts

Pairing: Dean x Reader/Jensen x reader

Warnings: Death (noncharacter), Depression, sadness galore, some fluffy Dean, fluff ending, bible scriptures at the end depends on Faith. I am of Christian faith, and spiritual, and have added 2 scriptures to help with grief.

Summary: The reader is in the world of Supernatural, but things at home are still going on. It makes things hard.

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: My grandma passed away today, of all days Friday the 13th. We knew it was coming, she started going down hill 4 days ago, did good yesterday, was somewhat coherent. But today, she didn’t do good and passed sometime this afternoon. I felt numb pretty much all day, cried off and on. Slowly I’ve come out of the hole to write something mostly for me, but it can be for whoever would need it. Just with the fact, we knew it was coming, makes the pain not any better. Still hurts.

a/n #2: This, this storyline is going to be a little messy but, it’ll be a mix of my Down the Rabbit Hole series and another series that hasn’t even surfaced yet, it’s still in the daydreaming slash brainstorming stages in my brain. But It may be Dean, or it may be Jensen, I haven’t decided yet. Not fully anyway.

~

Still hard to believe, despite being in this mess my phone even works here.

Mom always kept me in the loop, same for Dad, about my grandma. My mom’s mom. I damn near lost myself after my last grandma died. It still hurts now, but not as bad when it’s fresh.

But this, we’ve known it was going to come sooner or later. She wasn’t doing good; she started the early stages of dying a few days ago. Her heart doing weird things. I was waiting for it then.

It never came.

Next day she’s fine. She’s talking, sort of. She’s somewhat awake. She was okay yesterday.

This morning my dad texts me.

‘Grandma’s not doing good today, they’re expecting soon. But I’ll let you know.’

So, while Dean was out, doing a supply run. Sam finding Chuck. Or should I say, Jensen was out on the supply run and Jared was searching for Chuck.

We had just finished up in Alaska, now we’re just trying to keep busy. Slow Chuck down.

I decided to do house chores. Keep busy, keep my mind at bay.

“Jared, I’m gonna do laundry, need anything washed?” I asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, coming out of a haze from searching. “Oh, uh, sure. I have a hamper; it should be ready.” He says. Getting back to searching, waving me off.

I nod.

My Supernatural phone buzzes. It’s Jensen, screen comes up as Dean. Texting me.

‘Need anything from me?” he asks.

‘That time of the month has passed, I’m good. When it gets closer I’ll do it. I don’t want to do that to you.’

‘You can’t plan ahead on what we’ll be doing. Just send me a pic of what you use, I’ll pick you up a few packs.”

‘Um, sure. Hang on.’ I send, as I head to the bathroom. Shooting a picture of my package of pads and sending it to him.

‘Don’t get lost Priestly.’ I send with a smile.

‘Oh, harty har, har, you think you’re so funny. Dee does that all the time to me when I offer her the same thing.’ He texts. Sending a few laughing emojis.

‘Okay, be home soon. I got food for supper if your up for it.’ he sends.

‘Wonder what it could be?’ I text him. Already curious about food.

Since being thrusted into this whole shit show. My ex friend, somehow turned into a mad scientist was able to break the realities. Make dimensions, portals to them. He made Supernatural real somehow. There was a period for 13 seasons the boys blamed me for created it. Because fan fictions, anime shows would be mixed in with the stories. Make their own episodes of them. They hated me, didn’t trust me. Until I couldn’t take it anymore, when we gone through episode Advanced Thanatology, instead of Dean injecting himself. I just yanked the needle out of his hand and killed myself. After that, things got better but it still feels forced. Then again, I could be miss reading it, as always.

But since that day, Jensen’s been strangely nice, Jared…he tries but Jensen’s seeming like he’s forcing himself.

I get the clothes loaded in the washer; I clean the bathrooms. I clean our rooms, make our beds and such. Dust.

Then my other phone vibrates. I’m getting a call. It’s my dad.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” I asked. Knowing deep down in my gut somethings wrong. He never calls, moments in this show when shit hits the fan back home he’d usually text me.

“Grandma passed away just an hour ago. I just got done telling my boss, I’m on my way home. I know you’re still in there with those guys. But, don’t tell them. Chances are they’ll just hurt you. I still don’t trust them.” He says.

“She’s gone.” I said, my chest feeling heavy. My eyes feeling the heavy, hot tears surface.

“Yes, sweetheart she’s gone. She’s no longer suffering.” He says. “That’s all that matters. She’s up there with grandpa, she’s not suffering. We’ve known it was going to happen.” He adds.

“Yeah, but…it hurts.” I said. Sobs are now wanting to break me.

“Y/N, you need to try to hold together until you can get into your room. I would kill to be there to hold you, mom too. But, we can’t. We’re here, dealing with it. But you deal over there, just put yourself back together, come home. In one peace, try not to kill yourself again. I know it hurts. But once your home, we can help you heal too.” He says.

“Thanks dad. I’ll try.” I said.

And I hang up after we said our goodbyes.

Everything’s clean enough. I thought.

I’ll keep doing laundry. It keeps me away from the boys; besides, I have all their clothes. I’ll fold, put away, and then hide and break down. I thought out my plan. That’s what I’ll do.

Point of view switch [3rd person]

Jensen walked in with the groceries, all in each arm, making it in one trip. Jared meeting him in the kitchen.

“So, what’s for supper?” He asked.

“Y/N found this recipe of her mom’s; I want to try it. Grown up Mac and Cheese. I just had to buy the pasta, she got everything else last week.” Jensen explained.

“Sounds yummy, she’s doing the laundry.” Jared said.

“Cool. I’ll give her, her stuff and she can get cooking.” Jensen says.

He makes his way down the winding halls, no sign of her in Jared’s room, but there’s signs she was there. His clothes were neatly folded on his bed.

He checks his room, same deal. Neatly folded clothes on his bed.

He heads to the laundry room, she’s not in there.

“Well, where the hell?” he asks himself. Maybe her room. He thought.

He gets to her door, but stops himself from knocking when he hears crying behind the door.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Hey, Y/N,” he says again with a knock. And slowly opens her door.

“Not now.” She says, her voice shaking from the crying.

“Sweetheart, what’s got you crying?” he asks kindly.

“What do you care, leave me alone.” she cries.

“Y/N –”

“I said get out!” she shouts, throwing a pillow at her door. Making Jensen shut it.

Jensen stood there, baffled by her outburst. And heads to the kitchen.

“Dude, what’d you say to her?” Jensen asks.

“What?” Jared asks. “Nothing, why?” he asks him.

“I went to her room, found her crying. She threw a pillow at me to leave. I don’t know why she’s crying.” Jensen explains.

Jared shrugs. Clearly, he didn’t cause her pain.

Jensen’s personal phone buzzed. It’s his wife.

“Hey baby.” Jensen answers.

“Jay, her little brother just reached out to us. Her grandma passed. She’s hurting. And her parent’s don’t trust you guys. They think you’ll still hurt her.” Danneel explained to her husband.

“Probably after treating their daughter like shit for 13 seasons, driving her to the point to kill herself, I don’t blame them. But, we’re trying. Or I thought we were. Guess we’re not trying hard enough.” Jensen says.

“Hey, don’t talk like that. You just need to keep assuring her. It’s her you’re trying to regain that trust. Just, try again. Either wait for the crying to stop, or just, do something you would do if your sister was hurting. Or your own daughter. Just, I hate seeing her like this Jay, maybe you guys cook that dinner for her.” Danneel says.

“We’ll think of something baby. Love you.” Jensen tells his wife.

“Love you more. Now go cheer our girl up.” She says. Ending the call.

“What’s the plan?” Jared asked.

“Well, the recipe is right there on the island. I guess, start cooking. I’ll go try to piece her back together if I can.” Jensen says.

“Don’t push too hard.” Jared advises.

“I know man.” Jensen says.

He makes it back down to her room. Hearing it’s silent behind the door he knocks.

“Hey, sweetheart, you okay in here?” he asks.

“Go away.” She says weakly.

Her light was on, she was curled into a ball in the center of her bed. The pillows surrounding her, minus the one she threw earlier.

“No can do sweetie, my wife and your little brother want us to take care of you. And besides, we hate seeing you hurting.” He says.

“I don’t trust you, now leave.” She says. Her voice cracking.

“Um, something tells me, you really don’t feel that way.” Jensen says. “But it’s okay to protect yourself from anymore harm. Whether it’s physical or emotional. But I promise you, I’m not here to cause any more pain. I’m here to put you back together.” He adds.

He hears her let out a sigh. Defeated. He takes that as his cue to enter fully, and take a place on the edge of her bed. Her head, near his lap.

“Your little brother contacted my wife somehow, told us what happened. Loss is never easy.” He says.

Seeing her face distort again with pain, she starts crying again.

“We knew it was coming.” She sobbed. As she hid her face in her hands. Letting some sobs rack through her, she sits up. Taking a deep breath.

“We,” she starts again, trying to breathe. “We’ve known for a little while. I mean, she’d have good days, bad days. But one day, she…she…” a sob began to surface.

Jensen placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, rubbing up and down her arm. “Shh, it’s okay.” He says quietly.

“She got worse; her heart started doing something. She was dying, but then the next day she was fine, and she was okay. Same for the day after that. Then today, dad tells me she’s not doing good. And not, two…three hours later, she’s gone.” She explained.

“At least she’s at peace, she’s not suffering anymore. That’s all that matters.” Jensen says, his hand not leaving.

“I know. But just because we’ve known, doesn’t mean it makes the pain that much easier.” She cries.

“I know it doesn’t. It just means you love her. But you have to remember her as she was when you last saw her, remember her at her best. Don’t think about the bad, the depressing stuff that’s happened along the way. Think about the good times you had with her.” Jensen said.

“God, it’s like that episode Cas has with Jack. About appreciating the time we all have together now. And that the pain, is…is because I love them. And the pain is awful, but it’s also living. But…” she began to trail as sobs racked her again.

“Don’t…please, don’t finish that sentence.” Jensen says. Tears of his own surfacing.

He doesn’t like seeing this. People crying over loss, losses so close to home. Especially people he cares about.

“I know it hurts; I can’t imagine how much it hurts right now. But you can’t give up, you can’t stop fighting now. You have to keep going. Do it for her. Do it for you. Take a knee sweetheart, you need to heal. And this kind of pain, it doesn’t have a set day of when it’ll go away. But it does get better. Once your better, let us know. And we’ll get back to hunting again, because the faster we get this done, the faster we get home. But for right now. Our focus is you.” Jensen explains. Giving her a kind smile.

She returns it, forcing it some. She casts her gaze down as some more tears escape.

‘C’mere.” Jensen says, bring her in his arms. Hugging her, holding her tight. Her face in the crook of his neck. It’s only then her walls come tumbling down fully.

“Let it out sweetheart, let that hurt out. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Just cry it out.” He tells her softly in her ear. He can feel her tears hit his neck the longer she cried.

It was a good long while she cried in his arms. He just started rocking her gently in his arms.

“There she is.” He says, seeing her peer up from his shoulder.

He takes his finger, gently wiping a finger across her cheeks, catching any stray tears that fall. “Feeling any better?” he asks.

“Just numb, and drained. Not sure if I can eat now.” She says.

“Well, you haven’t had anything all day. At least try a few bites.” Jensen encourages. She nods. “Atta girl.” He says.

“Knock, knock.” Jared says entering her room with bowls of her mom’s mac and cheese.

“You made this, I thought I was…” she trails.

“You were dealing with your own issues, wanted to help out a bit. Plus, I already tried some. This shits good.” Jared says.

“Is that why you only brought in two bowls?” Jensen asks.

“Yep.” Jared says shamelessly with a big grin.

Jared handed Y/N her bowl, and Jensen his. The smell from the bowl caused her stomach to growl.

“Sounds like your starving, eat up.” Jared says, leaving the room.

“At least try, could always snack on something.” Jensen says.

“I am starving, I’m not numb to that. Just, it’s like my light is gone. I mean, yeah Jared did make me giggle there a few seconds ago. But it’s like…” she trails.

“Need a recharge?” Jensen asks.

“Yeah. I feel so drained. And I’m running on empty. Things that’ll make me laugh is a 50/50 shot now, if I do laugh, it will only feel good for that split moment. Afterwards, I’ll feel shitty again. I don’t want to feel shitty.” She says.

“Then, what do we do? What’s the Winchester way?” Jensen asks with a knowing smirk.

“Always keep fighting.” She says with a tired smile.

“There you go.” He says to her, kissing her forehead. “Now, lets eat, I’m starving.” He says getting up to the kitchen. Y/N following suit.

Joshua 1:9

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.

Matthew 5:4

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

~

Dean/Jensen tags:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 11/13/2020

[lonelypond]

Parent Trap, Ch. 9

NicoMaki, NozoEli, Love Live, 2.6K 9/?

Summary: Maki is on a mission; Nico is on the job.

Car Culture

Dia was crying. Maki groaned. Why wasn’t Raye...oh, no Raye. With a curse, Maki kicked off her blanket, catapulted out of bed, grabbing a robe to throw on, feet awkwardly groping for slippers. A message blinking on her muted phone. Nico. At 5 a.m.

N: Hope you and Dia have a good day. Nico’s going to be so busy ε= ٩(●❛ö❛)۶

N: But Maki will be so impressed when Nico’s video’s done.

No kiss emoji, no hearts, no...Nico-ness...a wail from Dia. Maki had no time to mope. Or make up. She had a growing, growling, grumpy daughter demanding all her attention.

###

“Maki, calm down.” Rin leaned back against the arm of her couch, sending her calmest mood at Maki.

“It’s been two and a half days, Rin. Dia doesn’t want to eat anything, keeps asking for Nico, who’s too busy to answer her damn phone, and I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE LILO AND STITCH.”

Rin could see Maki pacing, kicking the rug that was at the center of the cabin’s main room. Dia was probably napping, like Tora. Maki needed to nap more. “Calm down, Maki. I’ll drive up there. Why are you in Wisconsin anyway? Where’s Raye?”

“Can you watch Dia?” Maki had no volume control. Rin grimaced, rubbing her ear.

“Is that Maki?” Hanayo stuck her head in, “Can you ask her what Nico’s new…”

Rin made a slashing gesture to head off Hanayo’s question. Hanayo pouted. Rin walked to the door, gently pushed Hanayo one step away, and closed the door.

“Maki, are you all right to drive?”

“Of course, I’m all right to drive.”

“But you sound so angry.”

“You’ve known me for more than a decade, Rin. When has anger interfered with anything?”

Rin could check off a huge list of times. But that would not calm Maki down. “So you’re going to see Nico?”

“Yeah, there’s this huge party we got invited to. ” Maki was now moderating her volume.

But Maki’s declaration had kicked Rin into red zone worried mode. “You’re going to a huge party. Because of Nico. Do you know anyone else who’ll be there?”

“Honoka will be there.”

Rin blinked. Maki and Honoka parties were a legendary recipe for disaster. Honoka’s impulsiveness brought out Maki’s idgaf core principle. Mix in alcohol and...

“I just want to talk to someone taller than my knee, Rin.” Maki sounded desperate.

“We’re talking. I’m taller than your knee.” Rin fell back on the couch. This was bad.

Maki’s voice softened. “Please, just watch Dia for me for a couple of days. She really misses Tora.”

“So you’re meeting Nico there?” That wouldn’t be so bad.

“Probably, sure, I don’t know the exact details yet.”

“I’m worried about you, Maki, you sound really upset. And you and Honoka and parties...”

Maki didn’t let Rin go drag out her history. “Rin, just please…”

“What?”

“Take care of my daughter.” Maki was tapping on something, probably unconsciously, Rin could hear the vibrations. “Nico’s upset because my parents sent me to Wisconsin, Nico likes parties, I REALLY miss Nico and…” Maki sounded nervous, Rin knew how reluctant her friend was to discuss anything related to dating and sex, “that disconnect is starting to happen.”

“So meet Nico somewhere and…”

“Rin, I am driving to Chicago, I am changing into a sexy dress, I am going to a party, I am going to down a couple of shots of something, and I am going home with my girlfriend.”

Rin sighed, “We’ll talk when you get here. Just please drive carefully. For me. And Dia.”

“Of course, I will.” Maki exhaled, “Thanks, Rin.”

“I’m your bestie, Maki.”

Maki laughed, “See you soon.”

Rin hoped five hours driving would wear Maki out enough to be reasoned with.

###

Nico couldn’t slump yet. Fourteen hours on the set, the crew were getting ready for the big stunt, Cocoro was confirming the details of something with the director, and Umi was handing Nico a bottle of electrolyte solution, a bright enough green to wake Nico up.

“Start with that.” Umi frowned, “You don’t want to get sick.”

“Thanks, Umi.”

“When does your tour start?”

“Too soon,” Nico swallowed a cough.

“It is essential to allow yourself a chance to recover physically from the kind of exertion you are experiencing.”

“You’re not my doctor.”

“I’m sure Maki would say the same.”

“She’s not my doctor either. She doesn’t know anything about this kind of day.” Nico chugged the entire bottle.

Umi seemed genuinely puzzled. “If you don’t talk about your work, what do you talk about?”

“Nico doesn’t remember, it’s just kind of a tired sexy blur. Maki’s surprisingly....”

Umi didn’t have to frown. Her entire posture screamed displeasure at Nico’s cavalier comment.

“Sorry. Nico just misses Maki.” Nico tossed the bottle into the recycling barrel, “We’ve been talking about our pasts. Talking about the present gets us to Dia and…”

Nico’s phone pinged. Maki’s ringtone. “Hang on a sec.” Nico switched to full charm mode, Umi didn’t know where she found the energy. “Hey, sexy.”

“Nico, you have to come here, now.” A shrill, panicky voice.

“Who is this? Where’s Maki?”

“In the shower.”

“Who is this?”

Umi was surprised by the anger in Nico’s voice.

“It’s Rin, you know, Maki’s bestie.”

Nico could feel her forehead clench. “Is Maki okay? Is something wrong with Dia? Why are you on her phone.”

“Cause I don’t have your number on mine, duh. You have to come here. Now.”

NIco sagged, leaning against a wall, “Okay, Rin, where do you want Nico to go? Wisconsin?”

“Nah, Maki’s at me and Kayo-chin’s house.”

That was news to Nico. When and why had that happened? Nico sighed. She needed more than electrolytes and sugar to deal with this.

Rin continued. “Maki wants to go to this big party, to meet you, but it’s a Honoka party and whenever Maki goes to a Honoka party in this mood, there’s tequila and…”

“How can Maki meet Nico if Nico isn’t going to the party? Nico is working.” Nico flung out a hand as if to show Rin everything and everyone on the set.

“Oh, she won’t like that.” Rin sounded sad.

“Hang on a sec.” Nico put her hand over the mic, “Was Honoka Maki’s college roommate?”

Umi nodded, “Briefly, why?”

“Just learning some more Maki facts…”

Rin’s loud chirp called Nico’s attention back to her phone. “So you’ll take Maki to the party. I’ll tell Maki I ordered her a ride. It’ll be a good surprise.”

Nico wanted to punch the wall. “Nico can’t pick up Maki. Nico has to finish filming a dance, crash a car, rescue a dangerous damsel, and save the world.”

“But what am I gonna do, Nico?” A whine.

“Tell Maki to skip the party and call me later. For pizza or something, Nico knows a place.” And that was as much help as Rin was getting from Nico. Maki was an adult, she could make her own choices. Nico chose to follow through on her responsibilities.

Call ended, Nico slid the mute button over and tossed her phone into her bag. “And now Nico blows everybody away.”

Umi nodded, already going down her mental checklist for Nico’s upcoming stunt. “Make sure the safety harness is tight. I’ll go over all the fastenings.”

“You’re just fas-cinated by Nico Ni.” Nico bounced into her pose.

Umi stared at Nico, then quirked an eyebrow, “That tired, huh?”

Lowering her hands, Nico giggled, which lightened the weight, “Yeah, I guess so.”

###

“Is my ride here yet, Rin? Did Dia get to sleep? I still have to dry my hair.” Maki, a towel slung over her head, dressed in a clinging lilac to near black ombre swing dress. Rin grabbed Maki, forcing her into a seat.

“What the hell, Rin?” Pulling off the towel, Maki glared.

Rin had her hands on her hips, her expression serious, finger wagging at Maki’s nose. “You’re grounded, Maki. No parties.”

Maki stood, looming over Rin, staring down at her oldest friend. “I’ll say it again, Rin, what the hell?”

“Nico’s not going to that party. You’re in a foul mood and you’ll just get in trouble. You know how you get.”

“You got really boring.” Maki pushed Rin back.

Rin shook her head, “No. I’m a mom. In a relationship. And so are you. And Nico’s a real person with feelings and a stunt car crash to do…”

Maki pulled Rin back, lifting the shorter woman off her feet, nose to nose, “What do you mean, stunt car crash?”

“Nico said she had to” Rin concentrated, “Crash a car, rescue a girl, save the world.”

Maki dropped Rin and glanced at the nearest clock, it was after 9 p.m. “She’s still working? She stared at 5 a.m.”

“You work crazy shifts.”

“I’m used to it…” Maki tapped Rin on the shoulder, “How do you know so much about Nico?”

“I called her to tell her to take you to the party. And she said she had to crash a car.’ Rin inhaled, her chartreuse eyes determined.“You need to communicate better with Nico if you want a successful relationship like me and Kayo-chin, Maki.”

Maki sagged into the couch, head in her hands. Rin was practicing her parent of a teenager moves and Maki did not appreciate it. “Where is she?”

RIn shrugged.

Maki grabbed her phone, hitting Nico’s number. No reply. Then she tried Cocoro.

“Cocoro Yazawa. Can I help you?”

“This is Maki. Let me talk to Nico.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nishikino, my sister left no instructions about being interrupted.”

“Where are you?” Maki felt her jaw clench.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nishikino, but the set location is secret.”

“Tell me…”

Cocoro’s curt, professional tones cut off Maki’s snapped demand, “I will let Nico Ni know you called, Dr. Nishikino.”

And a ringtone. Maki wanted to throttle Cocoro. But that wouldn’t be any way to make inroads with Nico. Umi, Nico had hired Umi, Umi would...no, Kotori would, Kotori could be persuaded to share information. Umi’s integrity was unbreachable by anyone not Kotori.

###

“Hey, is Nico coming home tonight?” Nozomi slid next to Eli on the couch, wearing Eli's robe, her hair loose and luxurious.

Eli put down her Atlantic magazine, “I don’t know. Why?”

“I want you to stop pretending you’re mad at me and sleep in my bed.” Nozomi bit at Eli's shoulder.

Eli snorted, “How romantic.”

“I’m not offering romantic.” Nozomi took the magazine out of Eli’s hand, then grabbed Eli’s wrists to pull her closer, green eyes alit with dangerous urges. “You have needs. I have wants. And really really graphic fantasies.” Nozomi’s tongue licked from Eli’s ear to her...

“NOZOMI!”

“Text Nico, tell her to sleep in her own bed. Unless you want her to know that you…”

Eli put both her hands on Nozomi’s face, pulled her beloved, impossible wife in close, and drifted into a slow promise of the deepest of kisses, the only way to stop the avalanche of provocation. Then she grabbed her phone.

###

Nico winced, her ears still ringing. The boom had blasted through her hearing protection and her head had maybe, maybe contacted the crash foam. She couldn’t exactly remember the sequence of events. The helmet had helped, but pulling it off dramatically had been immediately followed by a wobbly tilt into the car. Nico was now taking a minute, eyes closed, to rest before checking if the world really was spinning.

“NICO!”

The crash must have messed her up, she thought she heard Maki’s voice. Bad enough she’d nearly messed up the timing because she kept wondering if Maki had gone to Tsubasa’s party and how many shots of tequila had she downed. Maybe Nico had been thinking about tequila so much Nico was sympathetic tipsy.

“Nico?”

A hand on Nico’s arm, with a grip that was going to add to Nico’s bruises. Arnica gel, entire tube, maybe Nico could find a sympathetic dancer who had massage skills. Nico opened her eyes. Maki, face flushed, gorgeous eyes weary and worried, a killer ombre shaded dress clinging to curves that made Nico instantly more alert. Maki smiled at Nico, then opened her sling bag and handed Nico a menu.

“Read the prices to me, Nico.”

After a couple of minutes, Nico realized what was odd. “You carry pizza menus around with you?”

“Just read the numbers, Nico.” Maki’s beautiful long fingers traced a pattern on the paper.

Maki had knelt, staring up into Nico’s face. It was all weird. “What kind of a date is this? Quizzes first?”

“It’s a concussion test, Nico. Eye movement is one of the biggest disruptions.”

“You like….” Nico wondered why she’d started that sentence. “Eyes, Nico’s eyes.”

Maki bit her lip, nervous, it was sexy adorable, and Nico would have given up a platinum record to not be feeling nauseous.

Umi appeared next to Maki. “I checked the footage. There was definite head contact. Cocoro’s sending everyone home. I’m glad you’re here, Maki.”

“Nico, can you read me the prices of a couple of appetizers, three pizzas, and a dessert.” Maki’s voice was very calm, but Umi noticed her hands trembling.

“Clever.” Umi whispered.

“Just order whatever you want, Maki.” Nico let the menu drop, “Nico will pay.” Nico leaned back onto the car, Maki and Umi with a quick glance agreed to split and support Nico from either side.

“C’mon Nico, I’m taking you home.” Maki said quietly.

Nico frowned, “Nah, Eli’s right?”

“Are you sure she shouldn’t go to an ER?” Umi pulled her phone out, ready to hit 911.

“I’ll take her if her symptoms worsen.” Maki tapped the car hood, considering. “I want to avoid noise and people.”

“Hey, Sis!” Cocoro raced up, “The director wants to talk to you about tomorrow.”

“Nico won’t be here tomorrow.” Maki snapped.

Cocoro shoved between Maki and Nico, “You have no authority here, Ms. Nishikino. Nico handles everything.”

Maki spoke deliberately. “There is a high likelihood that Nico has a concussion. She will need to recover before she does anything else.”

Nico smiled and hugged her sister, “Hey, Cocoro! Where’s the car?”

“We can still shoot some of the background scenes tomorrow, Cocoro, if I remember the storyboard correctly. I’ll help you figure out who we need.” Umi pulled Cocoro to the side, trusting Maki to support Nico.

“But Tsubasa’s scheduled…”

“Tsubasa…” Nico raspberried, “can go away.”

“Is there a problem with her cameo? Cocoro sounded concerned.

“The problem is your sister has a concussion.” Maki put her arm around Nico’s waist, Nico leaned in to her, “I’m taking her home.”

“To your place?” Cocoro relaxed, “Good. Eli called me, Nico. She said she needed some wife time.”

Nico didn’t appear to be listening.

Maki did not want to deal with her parents. “We’ll just go to her house. I know the address.”

Cocoro frowned, “But there’ll be…”

Umi decided the matter, “That’s a good idea, Maki. Nico gets dropped off sometimes on the block behind and sneaks through her neighbor’s backyard. I suggest that.”

“Okay.” Maki kept careful watch of Nico, “Text me the address.”

“I’ll drive you. They’ll be watching for your car.”

“This one’s got Wisconsin plates. No one’s seen it.” Maki pulled a beanie out of her bag and pulled it over her red hair. She handed another one to Nico, “Let’s be spies.”

Nico stared at the hat, as if unsure what to do with it. Cocoro, after a glance at Maki, stepped forward and pulled it over Nico’s carefully coiffed apocalypse hair. “Dr. Nishikino’s gonna take good care of you, sis.”

“Nico doesn’t need a doctor.” Grumpy, hunched Nico detached from Maki to lean against the car.

“All right, Nico, I won’t be just a doctor.” Maki blinked, feeling tears in the corner of her eyes, “But buy me that pizza. For our date.”

Nico nodded, “Okay.”

“Let’s go pick it up.”

Nico stood, Maki offered her hand, Nico reached for it, missing the first time, “I’ll drive.”

Maki hummed.

A/N: Good and sad things the past week, hope you are well.

[ghost-in-the-hella]

I hope it's cool for me to drop another one, you just write them so well. Z: “Zip me up?” PriceMarsh

Absolutely! Prepare for a near-lethal dose of pricemarsh fluff.

CW for referenced homophobia and implied internalized homophobia. Also references to Rachel’s death because I can’t not at least mention that.

---

There’s no reason for Chloe to feel so nervous. It’s only prom. She’s never been one of those girls who considers their high school prom to be a pinnacle of her life to be surpassed only by her eventual and inevitable wedding day. Before she and Kate started dating, Chloe would’ve laughed at the idea of even going to prom. She was way too cool for all that mainstream, cliche high school shit even before she dropped out.

But here she is, sitting in the cab of her truck in the parking lot for the girls’ dorms, sweating through her tuxedo shirt as she tries to work up the nerve to go meet her prom date. Nervous. She and Kate have been official for a few good months now, but they��ve never done anything this, well, official. Chloe bought a corsage and everything. She’s wearing her dad’s old powder blue tuxedo from his prom, taken off mothballs for the occasion (lucky for her he was a total beanpole when he was in high school; Joyce barely had to take it in at all). It’s fucking go time.

She flicks her lighter a few times to steady her nerves. God, she wants a cigarette. But she knows Kate hates the smell even though she tries not to complain, and she wants tonight to be perfect. Not for herself, of course - she’s still too much of a hardass punk to care about going to prom, much less about having it be some kind of magical experience - but for Kate. Because Kate cares about going to prom, and Kate deserves a perfect night. She deserves, at the very least, a prom date who doesn’t smell (and taste) like an ashtray. If Kate’s going to risk outing herself to her family with prom photos of her with an obvious lesbian on her arm, well, Chloe’s going to be the best goddamn arm candy she can be.

She tosses her lighter into the glove box and switches off her stereo, silencing the pump up mix she’d been playing to get psyched. She takes a deep breath to ground herself. Okay. Okay. Now it’s go time.

She grabs her tuxedo jacket off the passenger side of the bench seat and slings it on as she opens the door and hops out into the parking lot. She pulls out her phone and texts Kate. 

Me: im here

Me: u ready to wreck shit up w ur hella hot prom date?

Kate: Almost :)

Kate: I need your help with something. Can you come up?

Chloe suppresses the instinct to shout NO EMOJI and restricts herself to a polite: sure

She checks herself out one last time in her side mirror. Her hair’s freshly dyed and combed to a silky sheen, every strand perfectly in place. She’s got a tasteful amount of eyeliner on, like any good pirate, and it makes the blue of her eyes pop. The tux looks surprisingly good for something that’s been packed up in the attic for longer than she’s been alive, and it accents her hair and her eyes both. 

“Your father would be so happy for you. I wish he could’ve seen you.”

Chloe swallows down the sudden lump in her throat. She already sobbed her eyes out enough when Joyce was helping her get ready; she’s not picking up her prom date with raccoon eyes if she cries her eyeliner into a mess (again). She adjusts her lapels (what was it with the late seventies and ridiculous lapels?!) and her blue butterfly boutonniere and strides toward the dorms. 

There are several people standing outside, copping a last smoke before prom. Victoria Chase is one of them, flanked by two girls Chloe only vaguely recognizes. She’s pretty sure the bottle blonde smoked her out once at a Vortex party after she’d lost track of Rachel, but she’s not sure they ever exchanged names. Victoria flicks some ash off her cigarette as Chloe nears, but she pointedly avoids Chloe’s gaze rather than engaging her. So, still kind of an ice queen but maybe she’s learned a modicum of civility in the wake of the absolute clusterfuck that was last semester, between her best friend getting arrested along with her favorite teacher for a gross assortment of sex crimes. And murder.

Chloe’s stomach twists violently at the memory. Fuck, last fall was a shitshow. She’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have survived learning about Rachel’s murder (officially “death by misadventure” because the Prescotts have lawyers out their ass, but Chloe’s nobody’s fool) without Kate’s shoulder to cry on. Chloe still doesn’t believe in god, but if she did she’d say that Kate’s been an absolute godsend.

Chloe spares the girls by the door a quiet nod in greeting as she passes, and two out of three return it (fuck you very much, too, Unnamed Brunette Sidekick). She climbs the stairs to the second floor and hustles to Kate’s door. Her whiteboard is blank today, so Chloe takes a moment to draw a cartoon heart on it before she knocks.

“Chloe?”

“The one and only,” she replies.

“It’s open; can you let yourself in? Alice is being a handful.”

“Ooh, bunny shenanigans!” Chloe opens the door and slips into the room, closing the door swiftly behind her in case Alice is in danger of escaping. Alice’s cage is, indeed, empty, and the bunny is nowhere in sight. What Chloe can see, however, is about half of Kate poking out from beneath her bed. She shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t. She does anyway. Kate’s legs just look so formal as they stick out from beneath her bed at awkward angles, politely wrapped in dark tights and the jumble of what is clearly a very pretty dress that deserves better than to be mangled and coated in dust before it can even get its moment in the spotlight.

Kate giggles, so at least she’s aware of the ridiculousness of the situation and probably isn’t mad at Chloe. “She just will not go back in her cage! Can you help?” Kate flails out a hand in Chloe’s general direction.

Chloe crouches next to the bed and takes Kate’s hand, helping to slide her out from under it. “Hey, bun-bun,” she calls softly to the bunny beneath Kate’s bed. “Your favorite person is here! Come say hello!”

Kate gasps in mock offense and swats Chloe’s arm. “Her second favorite person, thank you!”

Alice hops tentatively out from under the bed and wiggles her perfect little nose at Chloe. “Ah-ha!” Chloe reaches down and gently picks her up. “Got you, you little rascal. Were you making life difficult for your momma?” She gives Alice a nuzzle.

“She’s been such a naughty bunny tonight,” Kate sighs. “I can’t tell you how many times she tried to nibble my dress. And poor Alyssa! Alice got half her corsage before either of us figured out what was happening.”

“Aww, I missed Alyssa?”

“Sorry; she had to finish her own makeup. She did mine, too. Is it too much? I haven’t gotten a chance to check.”

Chloe looks over at Kate and nearly topples over onto her ass, bunny and all. Kate looks beautiful, but that’s nothing unusual; she always looks beautiful. The subtle makeup that Alyssa’s used on her sets off her natural beauty perfectly, understated but lovely as always. Her hair’s in a braid with loose tendrils framing her face, which is a style Chloe’s never seen on her before and definitely could get used to seeing. And her dress is… Well. It’s a lovely dress; Chloe’s no great authority on dresses - she hasn’t worn one willingly since she was about four - but she can tell that much. It’s definitely picked up some dust here and there from Kate’s adventure under her bed, but it’s still obviously a nice dress. Tasteful, of course, or at least it would be if it were zipped in the back.

Which it definitely isn’t. 

On anyone else, it would still be a modest look. But on Kate… This is by far the most of her that Chloe’s seen in months of dating. Kate’s very much a “take it slow” kind of person, and even though historically Chloe’s tended to be more of a “take it as soon and as often as I can get it” kind of person she respects Kate’s boundaries and is happy to let her girlfriend set the pace. So getting an eyeful of Kate’s naked collarbones, the round curve of an exposed shoulder, the suggestion of a bared back is basically the Kate Marsh equivalent of a nip slip.

“Um.”

“Oh, no, is it too much? I asked her not to do anything too excessive…”

“No, no, makeup’s fine. Great, even. You look… amazing.” Chloe wobbles onto her feet and holds out a hand to help Kate up. She presses a kiss into Alice’s soft fur and walks her over to her open cage. “Okay, cage time for bunnies. No more mischief tonight.” She tucks Alice inside and locks the cage door behind her.

“You’re so good with her,” Kate says, wrapping her arms around Chloe’s waist from behind. Normally she’d burrow her face into Chloe’s back, but she restrains herself and Chloe appreciates the effort to preserve the integrity of her suit even as she misses the contact. “This is the best behaved she’s been all night.”

“What can I say? You’re her mom; of course she’s going to rebel. Me, I’m more like the cool aunt.”

“Hmm. Cool step-mom, maybe.”

Chloe’s face warms with blush. She reaches down to place her hands over Kate’s and gives them an affectionate squeeze. “You, uh, you almost ready to go, babe?”

“Almost.” Kate pulls back and Chloe turns around to face her. It’s a struggle, but she keeps her eyes fixed on Kate’s face even as they long to trace the delicate, graceful line of her clavicles. Then Kate turns her back to Chloe, glancing back at her over her shoulder with a soft smile. “Zip me up?”

Chloe blinks stupidly for several seconds before she answers with a silent nod. Her mouth is too dry to speak human words. She has to close her eyes and collect herself for a moment when Kate turns her head away again, waiting patiently for her assistance. Her hands are actually shaking as she reaches for Kate, which is stupid. She’s literally stripped women before. She’s just helping one put more clothes on. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking over that.

She tenderly sweeps Kate’s braid aside with one hand, draping it forward over her shoulder to keep it clear of the zipper. Her fingertip barely skirts against the bared skin of Kate’s back, but she can feel her warmth like a brand. Chloe takes a deep breath in and blows it out slowly to steady herself as she reaches for Kate’s zipper pull. It’s only when she sees Kate squirm slightly that she realizes she’s released her breath directly against Kate’s exposed back. She freezes.

“It’s okay,” Kate says when she feels Chloe tense up. 

Chloe tries to force herself to relax. She attempts to ease the zipper up and it catches within the first inch. Tentatively, she reaches to brace one hand against Kate’s hip for leverage. The zipper slides free and Chloe delicately zips up the back of Kate’s dress. It traces the elegant line of her spine up toward the perfect points of her shoulder blades (Chloe notes two small birthmarks on Kate’s left just above her bra and suppresses the urge to lean down and kiss each in turn). 

Chloe reaches around to gently guide Kate’s braid back to its rightful place when she’s done. She leans in boldly to press a kiss to Kate’s (still bare) shoulder, pausing millimeters away to give Kate time to signal her yes or no. Kate gives a small but unambiguous nod and Chloe kisses her shoulder firmly. Kate reaches her other arm across to tangle fingers in Chloe’s hair, holding her there gently for a moment.

Kate gives a contented sigh when Chloe pulls back, slipping her fingers free from Chloe’s blue locks. “Sorry if I messed up your hair.”

“Worth it,” Chloe tells her with a grin. She steals a quick moment to check her hair in Kate’s mirror, prompting a knowing giggle from her girlfriend. The damage is minimal; definitely worth it. She tidies it with a few quick sweeps of her hands. 

Kate steps into the frame and slips an arm around Chloe’s waist. Chloe reciprocates with an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “What do you think?” Kate asks. “Prom Queens?”

Chloe wrinkles her nose. “I’ll be happy as long as they don’t dump pig’s blood on us. Anyway, I think someone would have to stuff the ballot box pretty hard for me to get elected anything at Blackwell after I dropped out.”

“A year after you left to pursue other options,” Kate corrects her. “Now that you’ve got your GED, I don’t think you technically count as a dropout.”

“Aww, but it’s my whole identity,” Chloe teases. She dips her head to drop a light kiss to the top of Kate’s head as Kate scowls playfully.

“Guess you’ll have to develop a new one, then.” She squeezes Chloe’s hip hard enough to shut her up. “You look really good in that tuxedo. I can’t wait to show you off.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows. “Yeah? Not still worried about what people are gonna say when they see our prom pictures?”

“I’m still concerned,” Kate says thoughtfully. “But I’m more excited. I never thought I’d get to have this.” She turns to look at Chloe, and there’s so much warmth in her eyes that Chloe feels a sudden threatening prickle of tears in her own. “My mother and aunt fed me so many… bitter thoughts about what being gay might mean. All the things I’d never get to do or have because I didn’t think that gay people were allowed them. I never thought I’d get to love someone so much. I never thought I’d get to be loved in return. I never thought I’d get to just be a normal, happy girl on prom night, getting ready with her prom date to go and dance with her friends and have fun like anybody else. But look at me. Look at us!” She turns back to the mirror, leaning into Chloe’s arm. “We’re doing this. I’m going to the prom with my girlfriend, and we look amazing together, and we’re going to pose for stupid pictures and dance until our feet hurt and celebrate with our friends, and at the end of the night you’re going to walk me back to my room and kiss me goodnight because I won’t have to worry about my lipstick anymore and it’s all going to be perfect. And even if it isn’t perfect, it’s going to be ours.”

Chloe feels like she’s going to shake apart she’s so close to crying, eyeliner be damned. “H-hey, Katie?”

“Mm?” Kate turns to look at her sweetly, and god how did Chloe get so lucky to end up with this incredible girl.

“How much do you really care about the lipstick thing? Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

A dimpled smile breaks out across Kate’s face and Kate goes up on tiptoes, touching Chloe’s face lightly as she tilts up her face to kiss her. Chloe does her best to kiss her back like a normal person and not like a drowning woman. “Not as much as I care about you,” Kate answers when they pull apart again. She wipes a stray tear from Chloe’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so fucking okay. I might be the most okay I’ve ever been in my whole stupid life.” Chloe plants another kiss on Kate’s forehead. She’s about to start leading Kate to the door when she realizes she’s forgotten something important. She fumbles the corsage out of the inner pocket of her dad’s jacket and presents it to Kate. “Come on, let’s finish getting you suited up so we can light up the fucking dance floor and give all the haters the middle finger. The metaphorical middle finger,” she amends when Kate starts to open her mouth. “Not gonna get myself thrown out of your prom; don’t worry.”

Kate holds out her wrist and Chloe has to bend to slide the corsage into place. There’s a surreal moment when she’s holding Kate’s perfect hand in hers and gently guiding the corsage into place, practically down on one knee to get the proper angle, where she wonders if this is what it might feel like to propose. She can see it so clearly in her mind’s eye: getting down on one knee, probably wearing this same tuxedo because that way it’s like her dad would get to be there, still holding Kate’s hand, still looking up into her beautiful and shining eyes as she gazes down at her with more love than any human heart could hold, Gramma Price’s ring resized to fit Kate’s finger…

Chloe wobbles, suddenly lightheaded, and Kate reaches out to steady her the way she always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Kate asks again, brow furrowing slightly with concern.

Chloe presses a reverent kiss to Kate’s knuckles and rises back to her feet. “I’m good,” she says, trying not to sound as dazed as she feels. “I’m great. I’m fucking amazing. You’re amazing. We’re amazing. Let’s go show all of Blackwell how fucking amazing we are.” 

Kate nods, grinning. “Yes, please.” She holds out her hand and Chloe takes it. Before they can make it all the way to the door, Chloe’s phone buzzes in her pocket. With an exaggerated sigh, she pauses to check it.

Mom: Chloe Elizabeth Price, don’t you dare forget to send me pictures!

Kate reads over her shoulder. “Maybe we should show your mom how amazing we are first?”

Chloe grumbles and rolls her eyes but obligingly opens up the photo ap on her phone. As annoying as Joyce can be (seriously, wtf with the Mom ESP?!), Chloe knows that Kate relishes this kind of maternal approval and that she’s never going to get it from her own mother. Joyce has her faults - fucking hell does she have her faults - but even Chloe has to admit that she’s been pretty awesome with Kate. She’s all but adopted her, honestly.

Chloe holds up her phone and lets Kate nestle under her arm. A perfect fit as always.

“Say ‘prom night!’” Kate says, grinning giddily.

“Prom night!” Chloe says without taking her eyes off of Kate, and she takes the picture.

[mushuthegreat021]

Bakugou Caught Cheating

Bakugou x fem reader

Characters- bakugou, kaminari, Mina, kirishima

Angst- cheating, profanity, degrading, crying

Author note- this is my first time so please forgive me for any mistakes please enjoy. :)

Y/n was sitting in her room playing on her phone as a ding was heard from her phone. It was a text from her best friend denki kaminari. She had been friends with him for year. Even before they were in UA. They were always goofing around and being funny. She had started dating bakugou a year after they had been. She had liked him ever since the first day, remembering it like it was yesterday. How her heart fluttered and a blush spread across her pale cheeks. They have been together for almost a year now and she loved every moment of it.

It took awhile for bakugou to warm up to her. She had slowly break the ice and get to the soft side of him. She felt accomplished and happy that he was that way with only her. She always made sure to give the other all the love she could possible provide. Giving him the reassurance that he's great no matter what and that he was her hero. She never wanted the relationship to end. She wanted to be with that man for the rest of her life. It was so blind but beautiful to her.

Y/n smiled as she stared at the sleeping katsuki that was her phone background. When she saw the message from her best friend she clicked on it and read the message. She chuckled softly. Her chest bouncing up and down slightly from her chuckles. Kaminari had sent her a meme which they did often. It was a ritual and the norm for them. They had been a bit more distant lately since she had been pouring most of her time into katsuki. She felt bad for putting her childhood friend aside and cancelling things with him. But the other understood and supported them full heartedly which y/n was happy about.

She replied to the message with laughing emojis and sending another meme, knowing it was going to end up being a long chain. She closed the message and went to her Instagram and looked through photos on there seeing what was new. She had noticed a recent post from kirishima, another one of her friends that she met through katsuki. A soft smile creeped up on her face seeing the shark looking boy dressed in a shark onesie. There were other shark plushies near him a long with his girlfriend Mina. They were super cute together and y/n and kaminari would spend hours gushing over them.

She continued to scroll when she heard another ding pop up on her phone. She smiled thinking it was kaminari again and clicked on it. She saw it was not her best friend but her boyfriend katsuki. Which made the smile on her face light up even more. The skin of her lip tugged between her teeth. It was a bit of a flirtatious text. But the smile spread across her face quickly dropped when she saw the name the katsuki used. It wasn't hers, but another girls name. Whom she didn't even know. Her hands clenched the phone that was laid in her hands. She tried pushing the thoughts of anything negative away. " He wouldn't cheat.... He loves me, he's not that type. " Y/n muttered quietly to herself before finally responding.

' babe? Who's (𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦) ' she texted back. The males chat bubbles popped up quickly. Showing her that he was texting, when the other sent the message saying that it autocorrected to that. And that sero was messing with his phone and changed it. Y/n felt a pit of worry form feeling that he wasn't saying the truth but pushed it away. She then smiled and wrote back to him saying it was okay and that she loved him.

After that incident things have been a little weird, katsuki had been more distant than usual. She shrugged it to the side knowing he was probably just working hard and studying a lot like usual. That day her and katsuki were hanging out at her place and watched a movie. After dinner her boyfriend had went home saying he needed to study for the test coming up. She agreed since she needed to study as well. Kissing the male good bye and watched him leave her house. That night she had just taken a shower and was at her desk with the book in front of her studying for the exam when she looked up and saw katsuki's phone.

It confused y/n a little since she knows that katsuki never goes anywhere without his phone, let alone leave it. A soft sigh left her lips. She stood up and walked over to her bed picking the small device up. She decided to go over to his place and return it to him. She slipped on a hoodie of his that he left for her. And slid on some shoes heading out to her boyfriends apartment. After about a ten minute walk she had made it to the apartment complex. She walked up to the door and knocked on the door. She swayed back and fourth on the balls of her heels while waiting for either mitsuki or masaru to answer the door. After about a minute she could hear the door unlock and the doorknob turn open. When the door opened she saw katsuki's mother who resembled her boyfriend so much.

A sweet smile grew on her face as she bowed slightly to the woman. " Ah Mrs. Mitsuki sorry to be a bother so late but you see katsuki left his phone at my place. I know he's busy studying and probably didn't notice. But I know how important it is that he has it and came to return it. " She said in a sweet sounding voice. But the older woman's face and aura didn't match y/n's which confused her slightly. " Oh honey, I didn't know you weren't here. I thought you were here already, katsuki is in his room. " She said growing slightly. Y/n cocked her head to the side in confusion as she didn't quite understand what the woman in front of her meant. " No I haven't been over in weeks Mrs. Mitsuki.... Katsuki said it's been a little to hectic am for me to come and that there was some trouble going on. " She said in a weaker tone while the smile quickly faded.

The others mother shook her head. " No honey, everything here has. Been perfectly fine, I've thought it's always been you who's been coming over almost every night and leaving in the early morning. " She explained back to y/n making the others face drain and become pale as a sheet. And the pit her stomach start to grow. "C-can I come in and s-see katsuki? " She struggled to get out as her body started to shake hoping it wasn't what she thought it was. Finding out her boyfriend had been lying to her was already bad enough. But hearing about some girl who's been here with him for awhile made it even worse. She felt sick with anticipation, and the lump in the back of her throat start to form.

The ash blonde woman nodded and stepped the side letting y/n in the house. She took her shoes off and walked to her boyfriends room. The phone in her hand clenched tight, her knuckles white from how hard she was holding it. It was if she could break the phone if she squeezed the small device any harder. The closer she got the more sounds she could hear. They were faint but still audible. She gulped as her hands began to shake while she reached towards the handle. When he hand grasped the knob she turned it and flung the door open.

Her eyes laid upon the sight she dreaded the most. Her boyfriend with another girl naked having sex. Hot tears welded up in her eyes causing her sight to become blurry. " Mom close the fuc-" Katsuki stopper in the middle of his sentence when he saw his girlfriend in the door way. " This.... This is what you call studying.... Is th-this why I couldn't come over here? " She said in a weak broken tone. It cracked from the lump that was formed in the back if her throat making it hard to speak. Katsuki quickly pushed the girl away and got out of the bed. "Babe it's no-" Y/n stopped him mid sentence. " It's n-not what it loo-looks like? Is that i-it? " She mumbled in a broken cracked voice.

Hot tears streaming down her face, body trembling from the mixed emotions. She felt angry, betrayed, and heartbroken. " Yes... I mean no... Please just try to hear me out.... She means nothing! " He yelled. Steam vapour starts to come off her body, emotions overtaking her. " You cheated on my katsuki.... You lied to me.... " She mumbled while putting her head down. The other reaches for her to attempt to calm her down only to get his hand sweater away. He flinched at the heat on her body was climbing at a very quick rate. " Tell me why!? " She mumbled. " H-huh? " Katsuki muttered while holding his now burned hand. " I said... Why! Tell me why!? " She screamed at the top of her lungs. " Why cheat on me? Was I not good enough for you!? Did I not love you enough!? " She screamed as her voice cracked and hot tears streamed down hitting her bare feet.

He was quiet for a moment as the girl quickly collected her stuff and pushed passed y/n. She looked up with anger and heartbreak in her eyes. " Fucking tell me! " She yelled while throwing the phone at him that had slight burn marks and cracks on it. From her squeezing it and the heat in her hand causing it to burn the phone slightly. Hot tears rolled down the others face. " Because your ugly and fat. You were to clingy! There are you fucking happy now you stupid bitch!? " He yelled in anger as smoke rose from his hands. Her heart shattered at the moment. Flames now rising from her body, emotions finally overtaking her. Causing her quirk to activate. " I'm not good enough? I'm fat and ugly? Sorry that I showed your sorry ass love. Your fucking pathetic katsuki bakugou. I gave your angry ass a chance.... A chance no one else was willing to give you. Everyone was right about you. You really are just a self centered asshole. Now your single, enjoy your life you pathetic bitch. Hope you suffer and never become a hero. " She sneered with pure hate.

She didn't mean any of it but she was blind with anger. " I wasted 8 months with you. I'm so stupid, good thing it's over now. " She sneered and brushed against the side of the door while turning around. Causing her to scorch the wood. She angerly stomped out of the place grabbing her shoes and slipping them on. His parents standing in the living shocked whole katsuki stood in his room broken. The words of hers playing in his head on repeat. Falling to the ground, breaking down crying while yelling curse words. She slammed the door and slowly walked down the road toll her feet slowly started to speed up. Till she was sprinting down the road sobbing loudly yelling to herself. He heart was shattered that night, it all happened so fast. It didn't kick in till now, what truly happened and what she said to the ash blonde male.

The night was cold as the wind blew. She ran and ran till her feet were numb and she couldn't move anymore. She looked up seeing she was at a park that was not to far from her place. She sniffles while whipping her nose. Y/n looked at the bench and dragged her feet to the bench before plopping down on the cold metal bench. She looked up at the moon, her eyes red and puffy from crying hysterically. She weakly lifted her hand up that was swallowed up in the tarnished hoodie that was once katsuki's. Thoughts racing through head, the words he said making her heart crack even more. All that love she out in was for nothing. He never cared about her, it hurt so much. That's all she could think of. Her long hair blew in the cold wind.

The next day she woke up from her hour of sleep. She didn't get back from the park till 4 in the morning. Sitting there crying while looking into the night sky. She felt horrible, her eyes were red and puffy. She had dark lines under her eyes and she looked extremely pale. More pale than she usually did, she sniffled softly knowing she probably caught a cold. She didn't care as she forced herself out of bed and got ready for the day. She covered her face with make up to mask the red puffy eyes and dark lines. She grabbed her back as she weakly made her way to school. She had no energy to smile or even talk. She walked into class 1-A and quietly sat down in her desk. She cancelled out all the chattering from other students.

She didn't even bother talking to her best friend kaminari who was trying everything to get her to speak. But no, her lips were sealed. Even if she did try to open her mouth and speak nothing would come out. She didn't want to break down in class, she didn't want katsuki to see how bad it affected her. She could feel the males eyes on her the whole time but ignored it. She didn't want to acknowledge his existence.

After class ended she stayed in here seat. She looked at kaminari and kirishima who were in front of her trying to get her to speak. But no luck with it making them grumble. Mina then gave it a try pulling her out of the classroom and to the bathroom. " Girlie what's wrong? You look so pale and torn down. What happened? " She asked with a voice filled with worry. Her body began to tremble and looked down at the floor. " Me... And katsuki are... Over... He" She stopped as tears already streamed down her face. " He what hon? " She asked. " Cheated" Y/n mumbled. Minas eyes widened with shock as anger quickly filled her and stormed out of the restroom and to the class room. Y/n's eyes widened as she quickly wiped the years away knowing her makeup was ruined. She spirited to the classroom but was to late. Mina had already confronted the male. Yelling at him all up in katsuki's face.

Making kirishima and kaminari confused till they heard what happened and quickly became angry as well. It became a whole thing making y/n feel uncomfortable and horrible for causing a scene. "Shut up!" She screamed loudly and everyone turned to her. " Leave it be! It's done... It's over with, he's dead to me and there's no need to go after him. " She said softly and turned and left the school. She soon switched to class 1-B and got to know everyone there. She slowly became better and happy. She still stayed friends with most in 1-A. Quickly forgetting about bakugou. Bakugou was torn up and never got better but she didn't care to notice. She wanted nothing to do with him, so she clear of him and went her own path.