#--can be made at a moments notice. sometimes people pay online. when you grab it you can just say 'of course it's mine. im' and read the--

[allllamasarenerds]

Oh yeah. Got sent to time-out at work today. The guy started it. Undeniable. Customer man went into pickup fridge clearly marked "associate only." That conversation ending "Well I'll never place another order here again!" was not the sting he thought it was. Good.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Rush Hour

Pairing | Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary | whilst on the way to an interview, you and Sebastian are stuck in traffic. There seems to be only one way to pass the time that comes to mind.

Warnings | smut, fingering, teasing, slight voeyurism I guess (on the phone?)

QUICK LINK TO MY MASTERLIST IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF MY CRAP 😬

It was stressful, viewing how parades of cars, lined up in their designated sections filled the large road. It appeared as none of them were going to start moving for a while, and it made you bite your lip in frustration. Out of all days, it had to be this very one, when you had to assign your presence within a specific slot of time.

You and Sebastian had even left early, as insurance that you would arrive at your destination on time, but now, you had severe doubts that you would. And those doubts, within the past few minutes, had became incredible high. It looked as though there was no chance of escaping this frozen parade for the current and important time being. 

Even the simplicity of looking out the window made you slightly mad, you had places to be, as you assumed many other people that were under the same predicament were too, but for the meanwhile, you weren’t going anywhere. The lines of vehicles were stuck in some kind of limbo, stricken by the same thundering of karma at once.

Your significant other was behind the wheel, tapping his long fingers upon the round gear, causing your attention to divert up to his talented digits. As you studied them and their smooth exterior, an idea rendered in your fuming mind, and so, to put it into action, you slyly placed one of your own hands to rest upon his upper thigh.

Sebastian, instead of waving off the affection, smiled at it, thinking that it was nothing more than a tender instinct to also calm him down. The bet was, his agent would have his ass for showing up late, well aware that they had been the one to arrange this press in order to promote the latest of your shared projects.

However, he had not expected in this bustling, and public surrounding moment that you would creep your grip up higher, and so he tensed as you did just that. But he chose to allow you to continue for now, his front deep digging solely into his lower lip to express some of the tension that he was under whilst stuck in the car.

It was impossible to predict how long the pair of you would be stuck in the moving box, and it seemed that you had configured a way in your mind to pass it. One that had lead to your fingers dancing over his trousers, and making him groan lightly in anticipation.

His cobalt eyes snapped towards you though as you removed your hand. To put it simply, you were teasing him, riling him up in the constricted amount of space. It relented you no escape from him, nor his uptake in revenge. And as you shrouded under his gaze against the inside of the passenger side door, you gulped.

Perhaps, you thought, you should have just kept your hands to yourself. And then, you would not have been stuck in this predicament of being cursed with his winter glare; it made you feel like melting ice cowering into the level below. For a second, you wished the controls of the radio volume had the ability to reverse time, so that you could correct your mistake.

The feeling of his hands abandoning the wheel, considering that the car was not going to be continuing moving on the road for a while, and drifting towards the bottom seam of your skirt had you inhaling as much air as your lungs would allow. It would not be the first instance of which he put his earnest skin upon yours in public, but with all around being still on one spot, a part of you worried sincerely of a noticed fan grabbing their phone with their clammy hands, and recording the interaction.

And if done, the interval, whilst stuck in one, would be painted sourly over the entire internet. There would be an assortment of clashing reviews; some lustful and imagining what it would be like to be trapped in the car with you two, and others shaming of your indecency. And to say the magazines and online articles would have a field day, well, that would be an understatement.

Seb drifted his feather light touch up higher, brushing just above the border that labelled the end of your outfit. Instead of say anything that compromised his mission, you settled back into your seat, sinking your head into the designed rest, and opened your legs a little, permitting him no resistance to do as he pleased; all because, you wanted the satisfaction and fulfilment of the adult acts too.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, squashing it beneath the carnivorous bone, as his hands danced elegantly around beneath the complimentary fabric. He toyed with you, by stroking his fingers over the thin material of your underwear, expertly putting pressure down upon your covered bud, confiscating a breathy whine out of your closed mouth. “You’re already wet.” A damn smirk coveted itself upon his healthy lips, your eyes flickering between the seductive sight, and that hidden beneath your clothes.

“Do something.” It wasn’t an order on your part; it was a sensual beg, in other terms, your sexual starvation put into words. The air from your lungs was practically ripped away as your partner delved his explorative fingers into the privacy of your garments, the pads of his delirium causing fingers heading straight towards your swollen and puffy clit.

With no hesitancy, you head rolled sideways to rest against the window, your breath frosting carelessly against the glass. Instead of caring about what was being viewed from the outside of the car, you focused on what could be seen from within the space of the front two seats. And so, you pushed up your skirt, giving the pair of you an explicit image of his hand roaming beneath the divider that kept your crotch from the barren air.

“Like this?” Sebastian taunted, sinking a finger into your sopping hole, causing your eyelashes to flutter at the sensation. A furrow worried his face however, even as he stayed still, not moving his digit, all due to the ringing of his phone. Using his free hand, he picked up the device, bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”

As he began to converse, he slowly paced his finger in and out of you, the thought of him finger fucking you whilst on the phone making you that much wetter. “No, me and y/n are going to be late, there’s traffic.” You assumed that he was speaking to his agent, and as you mewled, he left you empty, bringing his finger to his mouth to clean.

“I don’t know how long it’s going to be until the road clears.” Seb sighed, after removing his slick coated digit from his mouth, pouring a little spit onto it, and bringing it down to rest on you clit. Shuffling, you leant back as far as the seat belt allowed you to have both of your feet to be perched on the end of the passenger side, knees tucked up your body willing to take whatever he would so much as give to you.

“Seb.” At the sound of his voice falling so erotically from his lips, a crease formed between his eyebrows, and so, as punishment for interfering with the static of his phone, he pinched your clit, and to cease the audible response, you bit into the palm of your hand, leaving indents of your teeth begins.

“I can’t make it go any faster.” You were not sure whether he was speaking to you or his agent. But it didn’t matter, not as he began to roll your clit between his fingers, paying the button ample attention, that had your head going all fuzzy and thoughtless.

“As much as I wish I could clear up this whole parade of stuck cars, I can’t.” He deliberately shook his head, purposely looking away from where he was playing with you to keep focused on the phone call, despite still rubbing tight circles around your bud. “She’s fine, in fact, she’s fallen asleep. Y/n will be all rested and content if we get there.”

Rested was a word that you were opting against, but if you were going to be privileged with being made content, then who were you to argue with him? So you remained silent, biting onto anything that could silence you, to keep yourself satisfied and ensuring that he would keep some truth behind his words. “See what you can do, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With little to no reluctance, he dropped his phone onto his lap, it meeting and causing some friction against his semi. But the awakening in his trousers was not his priority, instead it was the slick that was collecting so wholesomely on his fingers, acting as a natural lubrication to continue his round administrations.

“Sebby.” This time, instead of trying to silence you, the man marked you with a pleasant grin, only to apply more pressure behind his movements. It was a wicked deed, but you had no mind to it as it served no bother; instead, you were rather pleased that he was to be giving in on his pardoning.

“You going to cum for me darling?” His words were almost taunting, you could feel a flush of heat cascade up your neck and all around your body. And all from clitoral stimulation, this man certainly knew what he was doing. “Cum on my fingers baby, make them all nice and wet.”

Plunging your teeth once more into your bottom lip, you groaned, shutting your eyes and breathing steadily throughout your nostrils. And with that, you shattered underneath him, your shoulders twinging from the spasming aftershocks that riddled your body senseless.

“Would you look at that, the cars are slowly beginning move.” You needn’t have even needed to open your y/e/c eyes to know that there was an amused smirk contouring his features; that man sure could get cocky sometimes, and half of those happened to be in public.

[forever-rogue]

116 and 139 from the prompt list with Bucky please

Prompts used: 

116. “I love you a lot,  but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

139. “I thought you were a dream come true.”

A/N: Hello friends! I’m so glad to be writing for Bucky again. I hope you all enjoy! 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky paused as he started at the brass 314 just above the top of the door to your apartment. The delicate gold threading of his vibranium arm glinted in the bright, artificial lighting of the hallway, causing him to pause for a moment as he contemplated walking away and never coming back. But no; that wasn’t him anymore, he wasn’t going to continually run away and lock himself up and shut everyone out in the process. The time for that was over, despite how hopeless it seemed at times.

Besides all of the hesitations and reservations he experienced, you’d never once made him feel small or insignificant or like he was just that Bucky. You’d always managed to see him for who he was, and slowly, over time he worked to shed the layers of worry and fear and let you see him, the real him. The seemingly ever present gloves had come off, followed by his jacket, and every other little barrier he had put up over the years. When he’d first told you who he was, who he really was, he’d watched your face flicker through a series of emotions before a smile tugged on the corners of your mouth and you’d responded with a simple okay. Then you told him everything about yourself; trust wasn’t easy, you’d reminded him that day, and it was a two way street. If he allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to open up to you, you would do the same. 

It was hard to believe that it had been almost four months. In some ways it felt like no time had passed at all, and in other ways he felt like he’d known you for eons. He’d abhorred the concept of online dating, but for once, he was glad he had listened to Sam and Dr. Raynor and hadn’t deleted his profile on the spot. He had been ready to give up until he received the simple notification that you had matched with him and messaged him. Everything after that felt surprisingly...easy. You had proven to be a beacon of bright, brilliant sunlight in the seemingly endless storm. Not that he had told you that...not in those specific words anyway, but he had a lot of other tells that you picked up on.

As soon as he slipped back into reality and he prepared himself to knock, the door opened and he found you beaming at him. 

“Hi James,” his expression softened and any lingering doubt he had about staying was washed away as he held out a bouquet of your favorite flowers. Wide doe eyes met his and suddenly all he could think about was the fact that he really, really wanted to kiss you then and there, but he would save that for later if he felt bold enough to steal a kiss or two, “they’re beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” he insisted, stuffing his hands into his pocket as was customary, offering a shrug of his shoulders, “I saw them when I was walking over and I thought you’d like them.”

“I love them,” you promised, a gentle hand on his forearm as you pulled him inside, “come on. And no hands in pockets! Not around me anyways.”

“Right,” he reminded himself with a light grimace as he stepped in and closed the door before shucking off his jacket and hanging it on your coat rack. Your apartment was small, not much bigger than his, but much more homey - he always enjoyed the warmth and comfort it provided. The whole place smelled delicious, and judging from the small mountain of dishes in the sink, he could see that you had been working away for some time. An odd, warm, sensation bubbled him in stomach as he trailed after you, noting the music you had on in the background. He made a mental note to ask you about the artist later as he was still getting a grip on what was popular...Sam wouldn’t let go of that one.

“Beer?” you nodded in the direction of the fridge as he sauntered over and made quick work of grabbing two bottles out. He set one down for you before studying you intently as you stirred the pot of pasta sauce. You’d noticed that about him, he was quiet, and aloof, always analyzing everything. But you relished into it too - when silence fell over the both of you it was never awkward or uncomfortable. You turned to him, a smile on your face as you raised an eyebrow at him, “what? Is there something on my face?”

“N-no,” he answered quickly as he took a swig of what he already deemed as liquid courage, “it’s just...how did you know I was at the door?”

You snorted at his question, barely able to contain a fit of giggles as it was his turn to raise his eyebrows at you. But god, did he love hearing that laugh; even if you thought it was a silly question, it was worth it just to hear your amusement, “really? That’s what you want to know?”

“Yeah,” he grinned back at you, “out with it.”

“Well,” you clinked the neck of your bottle against his before taking a long drink, “you’re always early, never more than ten minutes, but always at least five, from our planned time. You have a particular walk, not loud but not soft...just you. I dunno, but it’s distinct. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Plus I heard you and then you didn't knock, so I had to make sure you weren’t having some sort of ...panic out there. And maybe I was just really excited to see you.”

“Excited to see me?” he was incredulous. He wasn’t sure when someone had last told him that.

“I’m always excited to see you, James,” you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over and gently putting your hand on his cheek. And he practically keened into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the tenderness so you openly displayed, “oh! I almost forgot, will you grab a vase for the flowers so I can get them in water?”

“Of course,” he agreed. Of course he was ready to do almost anything for you, “one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why don’t you call me Bucky?” he kept his gaze trained on the vase as he pulled it from the cabinet and filled it with water. For some reason he was almost nervous to hear your answer. 

“You told me that only your family or friends called you Bucky,” you reminded him as he answered with a simple nod, “so I figured it was something earned, something that I should only call you if you trusted me enough to know you in such an intimate manner. I-I didn’t want to overstep your boundaries either. W-would you like it? If I called you Bucky?”

His throat felt tight and his heart constricted as he listened to your words. For once it wasn't a cloying, negative feeling but one he...enjoyed. How very odd. A silence fell over the kitchen as he arranged the flowers in their new home and you finished dinner. For the briefest second did you think you’d said something wrong, but after he set the flowers on the dining table, he turned to and nodded, a slow, sure thing, “yes. Please - call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you repeated softly, grinning from ear to ear to as you pulled out the loaf of bread to prep to throw into the oven to turn into garlic bread, “my Bucky.”

The singular use of the possessive might have been lost on you, but it most definitely wasn’t lost on James Buchanan Barnes. He gripped the edge of the table so tightly, he was surprised it didn’t break. Collecting himself for a moment, he came back over to you and offered to take the garlic and press to assist you in your little venture.

You were quick to playfully swat his hand away before nudging your hip with his, “I’ve got it. You go ahead and start getting plates and stuff ready.”

“Come on, I can totally help,” he insisted as you brandished the press at him, “how hard is it? You’ve done everything!”

“Nuh huh,” you insisted, “remember the first we had dinner at yours? You almost burnt the kitchen down because you didn’t pay attention. Not happening - I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

“I-I do not suck,” his mouth ran dry as he gaped at you like a fish out of water. How easily the words had spilled from your mouth, without a second thought, without hesitation. He wondered if you’d even realized what you said, “I...umm-”

“Oh,” it was then that realization hit you and your face felt warmer than it ever had, “Bucky, I didn’t...I didn’t mean to say that...out loud. I’m sorry, please don’t...I’m sorry. I don’t want to seem too forward.”

‘Y-you love me?” a dark pink flush rose in his cheeks as you chose your next words carefully. You didn’t want to lie to him and backtrack on your declaration, but you didn’t want to drive him away either. Instead you settled on a small squeak and a slight nod, “I can’t even remember the last time someone told me that. Or the last time I felt that for someone else too. It’s been a long time.”

“Things haven’t exactly been easy or normal for you, Bucky,” you laughed lightly as he came closer and left only a minuscule amount of space between your bodies. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his body as it took every fiber of your being not to throw yourself at him then and there, “but you deserve kindness and love as much as anyone else, if not more so. You are a good man Bucky, despite what some people want to believe and despite what your mind tells you sometimes. The last few months with you have been...the most wonderful. You’ve made me so happy. I hope to be able to give you even a fraction of that in return.”

“You have made me happier than I thought I deserved to be,” he admitted as it became your turn to take a step closer. If you leaned in now, your lips would almost brush his. And god, you wanted to kiss him - until you were breathless, until it was the only thing you knew. The two of you had taken it slow, upon requests from both of you - Bucky for the obvious reasons and you after a very rough break up. It hadn’t been much more than sweet kisses and honeyed whispers, but he meant so much to you. You liked how things were progressing, but you couldn’t deny you would always take more, however much he was willing to give you, “when I first saw and met you, I thought you were a dream come true. Like you really couldn’t be real, or even like me, but here you are."

“I don’t really plan on going anywhere,” you promised, inching that much closer, your face almost touching his, “I hope you’re not either. Because I kind of...really like you.”

“M-may I kiss you?” he brought his hand to your face while his vibranium arm settled on your waist. It was an odd tango, one he was still trying to work out to see what felt right, normal. It had been a long, long, time since he’d held someone this way. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you carded a hand through his hair, playing with a particularly wild bit at the nape. You wanted nothing more than this, than him. It was such a simple act, and yet so saccharine and intimate when it was the two of you. It was an act of trust, an act of intimacy, and so much more. 

“Please,” you beamed him before he closed the distance and kissed you. And this time, he really kissed you, like you were the only thing sustaining him, the only thing he wanted or needed - a fresh breath of life. Plush lips were delicate and soft again yours, but hungry and yearning as though nothing could ever be enough. When you chanced a breath of air, you nuzzled your nose against his and softly whispered his name, “Bucky.”

“I don’t know if I can say it yet,” he swallowed thickly as you knew immediately what he was indicating. You cupped his cheek before tracing over his features, “I…”

“I know,” you promised as you met his eyes. They were so soft and gentle; this was perhaps the most relaxed you’d seen him. At your words he seemed to melt into your touch as a soft sigh escaped him, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m all in.”

“Me too,” he promised, “me too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[thedamageofherdays]

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

*

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

[hopelesshawks]

Ash and Dust Part 7- Opportunities

18+ Dabi x fem!reader

Summary: You first meet Dabi on the worst night of your life after unwittingly walking into the very bar the League of Villains made infamous. That should probably be the end of the story. You stumble on the remnants of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the history of Japan, get viciously murdered or call the cops and get them arrested, the end. Except that’s not the end of the story. It’s only the beginning.

Masterlist Help Lulu (Kofi)

Waking up the morning after reclaiming your bedroom (at least in part) is jarring for two reasons.

The first is that you’re waking up next to Dabi.

For some reason you thought he might wake up before you, even though he’s pretty routinely demonstrated that he’s not an early riser. Perhaps you expected the knowledge that he was sleeping in the same bed as you to perturb him enough to get him up early. Instead your eyelashes had fluttered open to find him still deeply asleep with his face only a few inches from yours.

You fully intended on simply rolling over to either fall back asleep or get on with your day but you’d found yourself enthralled with his sleeping face instead. You know Dabi’s smirks, sneers, and scowls like the back of your hand after a little over a month of living with him. His resting face, however, is entirely foreign to you. You’ve never had a moment alone with him where he wasn’t antagonizing you and it’s odd to see him so peaceful. Your eyes trace over his face, taking in the extent of the scarring on his jaw and beneath his eyes, but also appreciating the unmarred expanses of skin as well. It strikes you that Dabi is pretty. It shouldn’t be surprising considering what you’ve seen of the youngest Todoroki in the press but even still. In another world where he’d never become the wanted criminal he is today, you wonder if he’d be a heartbreaker or a sweet, gentle type. Would he be as quiet and polite as his brother seems to be or would he still get a thrill from bantering with someone who isn’t afraid to banter right back? Would he be in the tabloids with a different girl every week or settle down early with his high school sweetheart? You’re fascinated by the idea of what the scarred man before you would be without the tragedy and the trauma. You might’ve sat there just taking him in until he woke up if not for the second reason waking up that morning was so jarring.

Your phone has been pinging literally non-stop.

You’ve never resented your notification sound more as its shrill tone continues to echo in your room, putting the fragile peace at risk. Even before you found yourself as alone as you are now your phone was never this busy. As much as you try to ignore it and wait for the tidal wave of what you assume are spam notifications to end, the sound finally drives you to turn over and grab it. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer amount of Twitter notifications you have. As you unlock your phone and navigate over to the app your mentions are literally flooded with Deku fans screaming about your talent and how lucky you are. It’s a confusing litany of fangirling that you try to weed through until you get to one mention in particular that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You got a mention from the rising hero himself.

Holy shit.

You’ve never clicked a tweet so quickly in your entire life. Not only are you stunned to find he’s seen and loved your work but he also mentions wanting to talk if you’re interested. Sure enough, when you navigate over to the messages section of the app, a feature you’ve never bothered to use, you notice a message request from Midoriya ‘Deku’ Izuku waiting for you. It takes everything in you not to scream as you read the message there over and over before finally hopping out of bed and moving to the kitchen to call the number he’d left you. It’s a little endearing that he’d been so quick to hand out his number to a complete stranger on the internet but you also can’t help but wonder how someone so naive could be the same man drawing headlines over his heroics and combat skill. You’re not exactly a Deku fangirl but it’s still wild to be dialing a celebrity’s number as you punch in the numbers and then wait for it to ring.

On literally the second ring the phone is answered. “Pro Hero Deku at your service! Who’s calling?” the young man answers chirpily. “Uhh, this is (y/l/n)? You messaged me on twitter?” “Oh! Right! Yes! Hello! One second!”

You can hear Deku excusing himself from whatever room he’s in, a disgruntled voice mumbling something you can’t hear, causing Deku to reply with a hushed “Sorry Kacchan! I’ll be right back!” before there’s more shuffling and finally the sound of a heavy door closing.

“Ok I’m back! Thanks for reaching out to me so quickly!” he finally says now that he’s, apparently, in a better place to talk.

“Yea, of course I guess I’m just shocked you liked my art so much and really appreciate you drawing so much attention to it,” you explain, feeling short of breath at how surreal the situation is.

“Of course! You’re really talented! Your work deserves to get attention!”

“Thank you but, uh, why exactly did you want me to call you?”

“Right! It’s about your artwork.”

“Ok?”

“I want to sell it!”

“What?”

“Wait well no not sell it. Or not sell that particular piece although it is a nice piece and if you wanted to theoretically you could probably sell it although I guess it’s available for free online already so maybe people wouldn’t want to pay for it. Although it’s a painting right? And people buy or pay to go see paintings you can see online all the time so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad but if it’s for your own enjoyment you may not want to give it up which would be totally understandable and also how would that work logistically? If the painting is rather large it may be unwieldy to try and ship it to whoever purchases it, in which case would you have to meet up to try and give it to them by hand? But then that necessitates meeting up with a complete stranger on the internet and what if the person who buys it doesn’t live near you or, since it is the internet, doesn’t even live in Japan? Then you have to contend with international shipping and-”

“Uhh, Deku?” you ask cautiously, barely able to process the mumbling of the young man on the phone.

“Ah! Sorry! I can kinda end up on tangents sometimes... What I mean to say is that I’m not trying to sell the painting you posted or anything but I think you’re really talented as an artist and one of my friends is looking for someone to design a new merch collection.”

One of his friends? Your mind instantly starts running through his impressive list of ex classmates. Your first thought is Dynamight and immediately you shudder at the idea. He may be years younger than you but the aggressive pro hero still scares the shit out of you. Uravity could be an interesting hero to work with although you’re not quite sure you vibe with her aesthetic. Or maybe he’s talking about the new Ingenium?

“You’re real fucking loud in the mornings, you know that Doll?” Dabi asks with a groan as he comes walking into the room with a stretch.

You hurry to shush him, not wanting to lose the opportunity being presented to you, which earns you a curious look. Before you can react Dabi is snatching your phone out of your hand and putting it on speaker. You don’t dare protest verbally and risk alerting Deku of the situation so you have to settle for glaring at Dabi as he smirks at you.

“Yea so, anyway, Shouto really needs new merch but wanted something a little more sophisticated on the designs and I feel like you’d be perfect for that you know? Making all his stuff mini works of art. So what do you say?” Deku asks, his voice still brimming with that same enthusiasm while your blood runs cold. You’re genuinely scared to look up at Dabi’s face to see what he thinks about the idea of you working with his little brother. You hold your breath, Deku’s chipper voice going nervous as he asks “Hello? You still there?”

To your immense surprise, when you finally have the courage to bring your eyes up to meet Dabi’s, he’s got an almost feral grin. “You better take the fucking job,” he hisses delightedly, sending a chill down your spine as you stutter out a response to Deku, your eyes never leaving Dabi’s.

“Yea, sorry just processing. I’d, uh, I’d be happy to help out.”

“Great! I’ll pass your number on to Shouto and you two can meet up and figure out details!”

“Ok.”

“Cool, thanks (y/l/n)! Hopefully I’ll see you around!”

You hum noncommittally before hanging up the phone, still waiting for the other shoe to drop as you practically watch the gears turning in Dabi’s head.

“You’re…. Not mad I’m going to be working with your brother?” you ask cautiously.

“Oh no, I’m fucking delighted Doll. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna help me have a little fun.”

A/N: We are finally starting to get to the meat of the story omg. I’m sorry this fic has been so slow going, especially compared to my others, but if you stick with I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth it. I appreciate each and every one of y’all that’s been reading this fic because main motivation to write it has been hard

Taglist: @thechroniclesofawriter @simpsfortodoroki @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @tina-98 @vibesdontlie @clubfairy

[woolieshubris]

Aquarium Date Fic !! Kagehina, but kag!asd. Kageyama pov. 2k words, oneshot. Tw : Sensory Overload! (it's present throughout the whole fic) Made partially for @spixi and partially so i could prove to myself that i can If there's a typo no there isnt <3 If you are an IRL this post doesn't exist <3

I typed out my message and pressed send, throwing my phone onto my bed.

Maybe I should go grab a snack or something... I think to myself, when I suddenly hear my phone buzzing against my pillow, and I dive to grab it. He replied to my message. That was fast.

Me : Hey we should go to the aquarium tomorrow.

Hinata : Okay :D sounds good 2 me!

Quickly, with my face quickly going beet red, I drop my phone and go to the kitchen to grab something to stuff my face with. I'm shaking, but as long as I walk quietly, I doubt my family will notice I'm even out of my room.

How should I reply? A thumbs up might be good, but it might be too cold. Any other reply is probably too much... Whatever. I'll go with the thumbs up.

I head back into my room and pick up my phone, typing a thumbs up emoji before covering my face again.

F/ck, I need to come up with something to wear, don't I..?

---

I arrive at the train station, feeling like I probably packed too much. I brought a backpack with an extra phone battery, 2 charging cables, (because Hinata has an apple phone,) and a bunch of snacks, as well as a water bottle.

Did I put on deodorant today??? I can't tell... If so, I'm probably already sweating through it. I start to feel sick to my stomach, but I don't have time to finish that thought when I spot Hinata walking in from a distance. He seems to be wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt, and suddenly I feel overdressed in my jeans.

"Hey! Don't worry, I already bought my train ticket. You ready to go?" He asked while walking up to me. He didn't bring as much as a backpack, and I'm suddenly relieved that I brought so much.

"Yeah. It's coming in 2 minutes. I half expected you to be late." I stated, before realizing what I said. Sh/t! That was rude, wasn't it? I have to be nicer. Ugh. Hinata punctures my worries with a laugh.

"I'm not late that often, am I?" He states. This makes me feel a little worse about my comment.

"Hm. Just often enough." I state, carefully picking my words. I can't backtrack now, but I can try to redirect my speech to seem less biting.

"You only say I'm late because of last time!" He keeps laughing, keeping the mood light. I wish I could speak as easily as him.

"And possibly the time before that?" I reply. This is probably what he wants me to say.

"Shhhhh. What matters is I got here on time AND I have my ticket ready. Don't worry, I also brought enough for the aquarium ticket too!" He states, smiling. His smile is adorable, almost cute enough to distract me from what he just said.

"Oh, I was planning on paying for that." I reply without thinking.

"Ehh? Do you owe me or something? Should I be asking you for money?"

"No, no. I just thought...?" I'm really confused now. I was the one who asked HIM out, right? He knows how these things usually go, right? Maybe he just doesn't know...

"By the way, where are the others? I thought they would have arrived by now."

The... others? What others? The team??? This is a date, right? Wait...

I DIDN'T TELL HIM. I DIDN'T TELL HIM THAT THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A DATE. F/CK.

"I didn't invite them." I respond, my subconscious taking care of what my brain is trying to catch up to.

"You really find them that annoying? I know Tsukki and Yamaguchi can be a bit much sometimes but...?" Confusion flashes across Hinata's face.

"I just wanted to hang out with you. Is that a crime?" I answered before my brain could filter out that last comment. It would be useful in getting him to stop pushing, but it's far too rude for a date. Not that Hinata knows that last part anyway. I wish I could take my words back.

"You should be honored that I said yes in the first place." Hinata teases, my face turning red.

If only he knew what he said yes to.

---

Hinata and I managed to keep from fighting on the 30 minute train ride, which was a feat in and of itself.

I can't ruin this date.

"Hey, Kageyama? It looks like there is a student discount, and it also seems like there is a discount for groups. What do you think would be cheaper?" Hinata elbowed me, bringing me back into focus. I look up. He and I are both equally sh/t at math.

"Uh... Let's do the group discount? I'll pay for it. You can pay me back later." As if I'd let him do that. Hinata bought my excuse though.

"Okay! I can buy you lunch or something." He quickly walked up to the desk, and I followed him. "Can we have 2 tickets?"

Wait. Wasn't I supposed to buy them? If I was the one paying, aren't I supposed to ask? Is Hinata planning on paying???

"Oh, sorry, He'll be paying!" Hinata stated, gesturing towards me.

"Yes. Here's the cash." I quickly press down the bills that were almost getting damp from stress. I had already looked online at ticket prices, and made sure to set aside the perfect amount of money for two tickets in my pockets.

"Great! Let's head inside!" Hinata grabs the tickets, holding mine for me. We go up to the metal detector and I get my bag checked. Hinata, possibly because he has my ticket, or possibly out of kindness, waits for me.

"Can you hand me my ticket real quick?" I ask, throwing my bag back onto my shoulder.

"Sure, let's go in." We walk into the main lobby area, waiting to get our tickets checked. The aquarium is beautiful, and oh so huge. The high ceilings, and smell of saltwater, the giant whale sculpture that I can only assume is life size, and the concrete flooring, these things that on a glance are grand, start to give me a pit in my stomach.

"Kageyama! Come on!"

I look at the horizon line, and recenter myself. A quick yet deep breath and I'm ready to go. I walk up, and turn in my ticket in order to get a wristband.

"Kageyama?" Hinata states, causing me to look over at him. "Can you help me put this on? I can never do it by myself." He holds up the paper slip.

"Yeah, sure." I say without thinking. I wrap it around his wrist.

"Hey, make sure not to make it too tight. They are a pain to get off if you don't give them enough breathing room." I nod my head, and make sure to give him a gap.

"There you go." I let go of his arm, realizing just then how warm my hand is. I can feel my face getting warm too.

"Okay, let me do you now." He quickly fits the bracelet to my arm. "It's perfect! Let's go inside. I wanna see this penguin exhibit that I've been hearing so much about. I keep seeing ads for it and I've wanted to see it forever-"

Hinata kept talking. I don't think he ever stopped talking. It's nice though. It makes it easier to not focus on the huge building, or the shifting lighting, or the crowds, or the ambient music that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Yup. I'm not focusing on any of that. Not. At. All.

My feet keep walking, despite my worrying. Hinata eventually slows, stopping before the largest piece of glass I've ever seen in my entire life. A giant tank filled with fish. The glass is taller than my house, longer than 3 busses, and blue and endless enough to make my heart stop in my chest.

F/ck.

Hinata turns around, and finds a bench to sit on, patting the seat next to him, while staring into the blue void. You feel like you have to bow down to its majesty. It is terrifyingly blue, terrifyingly enormous. I have never feared the ocean before, but I fear it in this very moment. A spotted whale shark swims past, paying no attention to the many people standing right against the glass.

"I could sit here forever." Hinata practically whispers. The giant tank orders your complete and utter silence. Even amongst a giant crowd, even with the littlest of children, everyone is quiet. The large speakers playing calming bass tones over the crowd of people, barely vibrating the floor.

"Hm. Me too." I reply. I could sit here forever, I feel like I already have sat here for infinity. Like its presence is something I could never escape. The pit in my stomach grows further. I break eye contact with the tank, reaching in my backpack. The zipper can barely be heard over the ambient noise of people shuffling. Was there always that sound? I bend down to look in my backpack. What was I going to get?

"Do you want a snack? I brought some granola bars." I state as I feel Hinata's eyes looking down at me.

"Actually, that sounds really good right now. I was just thinking about food." He states, bringing his head down to meet mine. I rustle around in my bag, and grab out a bar. It is barely bent. Passing it to him over my shoulder, he grabs it and unwraps it, sitting on the bench with his legs crossed.

"Sooo, what exhibit did you want to see?" He asks, taking a bite after.

"What do you mean?" I reply, choking down the pit in my stomach.

"Like... you invited me out here. So, what was it that you wanted to see?" He takes another bite.

"Uh. I just like fish, I guess." I look over at the tank, trying to avoid his gaze. I doubt he'll buy it, but it doesn't really matter.

"Me too! Let's go into the jellyfish room next? I can see the entrance to the penguins here and it looks packed. Explains why it's so much emptier here." He set his feet back on the ground and stood up, waiting for me to join him.

I leaned back down to zip up my bag, and we walked through a doorway into a smaller, darker room. Blacklights lit up the moon jellies as they calmly glided across the tank. Hinata seemed to drift off, but I didn't mind. It would probably be a good idea to be apart for a bit. I could calm down and collect myself quickly.

I walk up to the tiny seahorse exhibit, and look into the tank. I can't see them at all... I thought, when suddenly, I felt my forehead bump up against the glass.

How did I get close enough to bump up against it?

I go to look for a wall to lean up against. Leaning against something should help keep the pit down. I do a quick glance around the room. There are no walls. Only glass, and only fish. I hate fish.

Taking yet another deep and quick breath, I go back to meet up with Hinata. He was looking at a different kind of seahorse.

"Okay, I think I'm ready to go to the next section now." Hinata said, glancing away from the fish and over to the exit door. I nodded, and lightened up the scowl that was forming on my face. I didn't even notice it was happening until I felt my eyebrows aching from the effort. I just hope he didn’t notice.

The exit of the jellyfish room led to a balcony overlooking a lower floor. This must be the back of the aquarium. Below us there seemed to be a small cafe overlooking the sea.

"Here, let's go get some food! I can pay you back for the ticket that way." Hinata pulled my arm over to the down escalator. I step on right after him, and look down at the cafe.

It was very large, and honestly reminded me more of a cafeteria than a cafe, with lots of seating. After we reach the end of the escalator, he walked over to stand in line and stare at the menu. Looking for a good seat, I grab one right by the large window facing the water and set down my bag. I pull out the small amounts of snacks I've already brought to claim the seat and go over to Hinata.

"Hey, so I'm thinking about getting a sandwich. What do you want?" He stood, facing the menu.

"Honestly, just get me whatever you think I'd like." I state. I can't focus on the menu right now; I just don't have the energy to.

"Hmmm... Okay!" Hinata walks up to the register, while I go back to our seats. I'll probably regret that choice very soon, but I have backup food anyways, and I'm sure he'll eat whatever I don't, so it's not like the food will be wasted.

---

What the hell did he order??

I look at my plate, not quite understanding what the dish is even supposed to be.

"You said to get you whatever." He said with a smile, taking a bite of his sandwich right after.

"Whatever I might LIKE. What even is this?" I poked my dish with a spork, and it seemed to swallow it whole.

"No idea. I just pointed at the dish in the buffet." He shrugged. "I thought it might be funny, but it's less funny than I hoped. I expected more of a reaction." He looked up with the last sentence, making eye contact with me, which I broke a moment after.

"Sorry."

"Sorry? What are you saying sorry for? Since when did you say sorry anyways?" There was slight worry behind his voice, though it was hard to tell through his wide grin. To avoid answering, I quickly shove the food in my face. It's not great, but it's not really all that bad either. It's a little cold from sitting out.

"It's.... good." I say with a stuffed face. This causes him to start laughing again.

"You look super angry! That's the sort of reaction I was expecting." When did I even start scowling again? When I took a bite of the food, probably.

"You try it." I say, stealing a chip from his bag.

"I was the one who bought it anyway. I was half expecting you to make me eat it." Am I really that predictable? He took a bite, and made a variety of expressions, before settling on confusion.

"I wouldn't call it good. Maybe okay? It's definitely at least okay." He nodded to himself, taking a sip of water after.

"So, where to after this?" I ask.

---

We ended up on the train home while the sun was setting. It's almost to our stop. It felt so short, but we ended up hanging out for 5 hours. I almost forgot that I wanted it to be a date. I had to give up on that a while ago.

"Hey, we have to get off soon, get ready." I say, tapping his knee.

"Hm? Oh." He wakes up, blinking a few times and leaning forwards in his seat. He glances out the window.

The train stops, and we walk off onto the station platform.

"See you at practice tomorrow!" He says with a large smile, walking backwards towards the exit.

"See you." I reply, gripping the shoulder straps of my bag. I looked down

"I had a nice time on our date!" and with the last word, he turned around, running out of the station.

My head immediately turned upwards to where he was, as I feel my blood starting to rush to my face.

He... HE KNEW?!?

[sometimesiwritebadly]

Carter (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: You’re a single mother, and your 12-year-old daughter, Carter, decided to track down her father.

Warnings: Mentions unsupportive asshole parents. Also language. References sex (between two underage kids) and teen pregnancy.

Notes: ....so i kinda disappeared for almost a month...and instead of updating my series i have decided to write a whole new fic... sorry? :) in my defence it says right there in my user that i only write SOMETIMES

also this is kinda an au where Spencer graduated high school at 16 instead of 12 yet somehow gets all his doctorates and joins the fbi at the same time. does the math work out? no. do i care? no. 

also sorry if your name is Carter. maybe you can pretend you pulled a Lorelai Gilmore and named your kid after yourself

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist

“Carter!” You ran through the hallways, paying no attention to the various government agents staring as you made your way to your 12-year-old daughter. About an hour ago, you’d gotten a call from her school because she hadn’t shown up to her classes that morning, even though you’d watched her get on the bus yourself. After the longest 15 minutes of your life, you got a call that freaked you out even more; Carter had gone all the way to Quantico and was now with the FBI. You drove like a madwoman from work, especially since all the FBI Agent, Jareau, had told you over the phone call was that your daughter was safe. Now, that same agent was trying to keep up with you as you marched towards your daughter, who was sitting at a desk in the middle of a busy office. 

“Miss Y/L/N, maybe we can take you guys somewhere private to-” 

“Carter Rose Y/L/N, what on earth possessed you to skip school and take a field trip to the FBI?” You interrupted the agent, talking to your daughter, whose eyes were now wide in fear. You two don’t fight often- or at all, really. You’d had her when you were only 16, so sometimes your relationship danced the line around the line between mother/daughter and two sisters. This was the first, and hopefully only, time she’d done anything to make you truly angry. Instead of answering you, Carter just looked down at her hands, mumbling something. “Carter, the longer you don’t answer me, the longer you’ll be grounded.” Your voice softened just slightly, but it was enough for Carter to know how worried you’d been.

“I found dad.” Her words made your heart stop. You hadn’t thought about her dad in a long time, you wouldn’t let yourself.

“What?” Carter only looked over to the man that had been standing next to her. You hadn’t even glanced at him, you were too worried and mad at Carter. You looked up at him, and he looked at you, and you felt like your world was crashing down. Spencer Reid. You hadn’t seen him since you were 15, when he’d left to go to CalTech. He was just a couple months older than you, 16 years old, but he was already graduating high school with enough college credit to put him halfway through an undergrad degree. He was set to become one of the youngest doctors in the country. And now here he was, 12 years later. He looked at you with the same wide eyes he had all those years ago, the same look your daughter had on her face. 

“Agent Jareau?” The blonde woman came back into your line of sight, but you only glanced at her before looking back to Spencer. “Can you watch Carter for a while?”

“Yeah, of course.” Carter stood up to follow Agent Jareau, but before she could walk away, your hand stopped her. 

“You’re grounding starts now, C. Hand it over.” Carter begrudgingly pulled her backpack off her shoulder and opened it. First she placed her phone in your hand, then pulled out a book and handed it over as well. You glanced at the cover. You know for a fact that she finished this book yesterday, so you tucked it under your arm and held out your hand again, and waited for her to place her second book in it. A moment later, another book was in your hand, and you nodded at Agent Jareau, allowing her to take your daughter out of sight to what you assumed to be her office. Finally, you turned back to Reid.

“Hi.” You started, avoiding eye contact. You weren’t sure how to start this conversation. You never thought you’d have to have this conversation. 

“Hi.” Awkward silence. Instead of looking at Spencer, you looked around the office space, and noticed that some people were staring at you and Spencer. Spencer followed your gaze, and turned back to you. “Um, those are my coworkers. We have a conference room, do you wanna talk there?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.” You followed Spencer across the office and into a small conference room. You both sat down at the circular table, and Spencer opened his mouth to speak first.

“Is it true?” You only nodded in response, still not able to look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You took a deep breath before looking up at him to answer. Spencer had tears developing in his eyes, and he was leaning towards you. Raising Carter on your own had been hard, but you’d never even considered how missing out on so much of her life would affect him. “You...you were going to college. You had this insane future ahead of you, and I didn’t want to ruin it. By the time I found out, you were already gone, so…”

“You left Vegas.” Spencer interrupted. “When I came home for Thanksgiving, I stopped by your parent’s house. They refused to talk to me, and said that you transferred to a boarding school.” You scoffed at your parent’s lie. Your parents were pretentious, upper-class people. They’d wanted you to “take a semester abroad,” and quietly give up the baby for adoption. You refused, so you emptied your savings account and booked a ticket to DC, where your cousin was willing to take you and the baby in. There, you finished up your GED online, got a part time job, and began to raise Carter. 

“Yeah.” You paused. “She was born May 19th. She’s 12 now.” Spencer was hanging on to every word that came out of your mouth. “She reminds me a lot of you. She’s always reading, and she loves school. I would say I’m surprised that she found you, but she’s way smarter than I am.”

“You never told her about me?”

“I told her some stuff. She knows that we dated in high school, and that you went to college early. I didn’t want her to feel abandoned, so I told her that you left before I could tell you I was pregnant.”

“You could’ve told me.” Spencer didn’t seem angry, but it was very clear how upset he was.

“I know I could’ve. But I was 16, and the only person in my life that was willing to accept me and Carter was my cousin, and she was only 22 at the time. I didn’t want to reach out to you only for you to reject me too.” Your response didn’t appear to make Spencer feel much better. “Look, Spencer, you can be mad at me all you want, but it’s obvious Carter wants to get to know you. I won’t force you to be a part of her life now, but don’t cut her out because you’re mad at me.”

Before Spencer could respond, there was a knock at the door, and a brunette woman poked her head in. “Sorry, I know this is important, but we have a case. Spence, Hotch said you can stay back, work this case from here with Garcia.”

“No, I don’t want to take you away from work.” You saw a stray piece of paper on the table, and reached into your purse to grab a pen. You quickly wrote your number and address on the paper, before pushing it towards Spencer. “Work your case, and when it’s over, we can talk more. It’ll give you some time to think things through.” Spencer looked at your words on the paper, and only nodded in response.

“You daughter is in JJ’s office, I’ll walk you over.” The brunette agent said, so you followed her out to pick up Carter.

~~~ 

A week later, you hadn’t received any calls from Spencer. Carter asked for updates practically every hour. You were tempted to give her back her phone and books just to get her off your back about him, but she’s grounded. That means the only books she’s allowed to read are for school, but right now it feels like you’re being punished just as much as she is. You were in the kitchen making dinner for the two of you when you heard a knock on the door. “C? Can you get the door? Check the peephole first-”

“I know, I know, never open the door for strangers.” Carter interrupted you, pausing her studying in the living room to walk out of your sight and to the door. You faintly heard the sound of the door opening before Carter spoke again. “Mom? Can Dad stay for dinner?” The mention of Spencer shocked you, and caused you to trip over your own feet and hit your knee against one of the cabinets.

“Shit!” You said loudly, reaching down to rub your hand against what would quickly become a bruise. Just as this happened, Carter and Spencer entered the room. Carter with a large smile on her face.

“That’s a dollar in my jar!” She said happily, grabbing your wallet from the counter and handing it to you.

“Yeah, I know.” You rolled your eyes, pulling a dollar out and handing it to her so she could put it in her jar.

“Mom and I each have a jar, and at the end of the month we go shopping with whatever money we have. Whenever she swears, I get a dollar, and whenever I do, she gets a dollar.” Carter explained for Spencer, then lowered her voice to a whisper, that you still easily hear, “I always have more money to spend.”

“Hey! That’s not true!” You defended yourself, even though you know she’s right. While the swear jar had easily stopped your daughter from using foul language (that she’d picked up from you), you had a lot more trouble holding your tongue.

“If your language is anything like it was in high school, then Carter is probably right.” Spencer joked, causing Carter to laugh.

“You know I don’t have to feed you two, I can eat all of this myself.” You responded, turning back to your stove.

“You wouldn’t!” Carter gasped, which caused you to laugh, giving yourself away. 

“Ok, ok, you’re right. This time.” You paused for a moment, “Hey C, Spencer likes reading almost as much as you do. Why don’t you grab one of your favorites from the shelf for him to read?” Carter clearly liked this idea, because she was running to her room in an instant, yelling facts about her favorite book from her room. You knew you’d only have a minute alone with Spencer, so you turned away from the food and back to him. “Are you sure?” You asked.

You could tell from the look on Spencer’s face that he understood exactly what you meant. Once he decides to be Carter’s dad, he can’t go back. You were giving him an out.

“Yes.” He answered, with more confidence than you’d ever seen from him.

“Good.” You said, with a small smile ghosting your face. Just as quickly as she left, Carter came bounding back into the room, carrying 5 books instead of the one you’d suggested.

“I couldn’t choose a favorite book. I read kind of fast, but you can borrow these for as long as you want! I don’t mind sharing.”

“Oh yeah? How fast did you read these?” Spencer asked, looking over the book descriptions on the back.

“I usually read a book a day. Sometimes I finish books in a few hours if they’re interesting enough.”

“Impressive! Maybe one day you’ll be on my level.” Spencer bragged. You tuned out of the conversation as Spencer began talking about how fast he reads, and how Carter could learn to read faster. You just watched them, enjoying the fact that for the first time ever, Carter could have a dad. And maybe, with time, you’ll end up being some kind of family.

~~~

taglist: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @peculiarinsomniac

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [4]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: Suggestive

↳  Word count: 4,556

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | You Are Here! | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

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

THURSDAY - 4

The next day, you quickly went onto Blackboard and finished your online class final as soon as you woke up. Tired and a little grumpy, you were happy that Rhiannon had already left the house for her lab, leaving you with a full range of the tea kettle and whatever cereals you had left in the cabinet. You suppose you should go grocery shopping on the weekend.

You have some music playing through your phone as you go through the motions of your morning, brushing your teeth and hair, dusting on the tiniest bit of makeup and a swipe of lip balm to your lips. When it comes time to choose an outfit, you slip on a pair of shortalls and a white Star Wars shirt that Rhiannon had bought you for your birthday last year. 

It almost felt like a dream to be where you are right now, to be going out and getting your first real taste of business, what it would be like to go out in the world and have people pay you for your work. All of it was happening because you met your soulmate.

You looked at your hands, scars still ever-present. They'd be there forever, and not long ago you had detested the idea of ever having them. Even to the point of making Mark afraid to speak to you about it, and a twinge in your chest came with a sudden feeling of guilt.

You had been in love with Mark for a long time, as much as any fan of his would say, maybe more. Finding out that he was truly meant for you was beginning to chip away at the bitterness you had acquired growing up. Maybe you still had some doubt for all of this, as things would actually still work out when he left to go back to Korea, but being around him felt like all of your aversions wouldn't matter one day. 

Letting go of the nerves living inside of you was difficult, but you managed to clench your hands and smile. This was all a part of your dream. Perhaps one day you would be able to look on your body and not think back on your life before. Thinking positively from now on was your goal. With that, you grabbed your camera and your bag, heading out the door.

On the subway, you listened to your playlist, a shuffled mix of your favourite songs. You zoned out until you reached your stop, wandering about the station and grabbing a candy bar on your way out. The morning itself was still but the rush of subway trains and people in a hurry created wind currents that caused you to need to smooth out your hair constantly on the way to your destination. 

As soon as you enter High Park, any grumpy fatigue you had been harbouring since waking up melted away. The sheer beauty of the park always managed to awaken the artist within you, whether it be filling up your camera with photos of trees and the cherry blossom petals in the spring; amber, red and brown leaves in the fall and the snow-capped branches in winter, or just doodling people in your sketchbook while sitting against a tree after class. It was one of your favourite places to be. 

You sat against a cherry tree by the path you and Mark walked on together, letting small petals of cherry blossoms to float down and land on your hair. You gripped your camera tightly and aimed it without thinking, capturing the emptiness of the park that surely wouldn't last forever.

Sometimes you had thought about wandering so far out into the wilderness where you wouldn't see any other people or man-made objects as far as your eye could see. Then, you could take photos of the beauty the planet has to offer while breathing untainted air and feeling fresh wind on your face. 

Just then as you closed your eyes to imagine it, a small breeze grazed your cheek. The warmth of the sun washed over you and it nearly made you want to take a nap right there on the grass. The day already feels so wonderful, and there was only one thing missing to make it perfect. 

"(Y/N)!"

Your eyes flutter open as Mark runs up to you. He's accompanied by the small crowd that are his bandmates, all walking along the path all at their own pace. Mark reaches you and sits down on the grass next to you. 

"Hi, Mark," you greet him with a blush, watching him as he plucks a cherry blossom petal from your hair. 

"You look lovely," he comments with a shy smile. "You haven't been waiting long, right?"

You smile warmly at him. "No, don't worry."

Mark grinned back at you. "I'm happy the weather cooperated with us," he remarks, taking a moment to look up at the blue sky, dotted with two or three wispy white clouds. "It's a beautiful day." 

"Yeah," this time, instead of looking back up at the sky, you're looking at Mark. It's fleeting, knowing he was so close to you that you could touch him. The way his profile is when he's looking up at the sky with a wondrous smile makes you want to take a million photos, but you hold back as you notice everyone else approaching. 

Everyone in the group greets you, giving you a hug and smiling as you do your best to introduce yourself in Korean. Most of the boys assure you that they can understand basic English and not to worry about the language difference. 

You're nervous, of course, to meet your favourite artists in person, especially all at once. In real life, they're all so tall and in some ways, it just feels so different than you imagined to interact with them. 

There are little bits of conversation occurring as you all wait for Rhiannon, Donghyuck insisting that they all stay put to make sure she can find you. You're smiling brightly when you notice he's constantly on the watch for her, making you wonder if she would experience a similar situation to yours. He's speaking fondly of her to you as best he can, which makes your heart flip - knowing how happy she'd be if you told her about it.

There is maybe another ten minutes of discussing what all the boys want, background, poses, angles and composition when Donghyuck's small smile grows into a giant grin. He's waving at someone who is approaching from the distance, who stops in their tracks once they look up from the ground. 

You take Mark's hand and squeeze it. "Come on," 

Everyone follows your lead, approaching your best friend. Rhiannon is clearly frazzled from a long lab, her hair in a messy ponytail, but she's dressed in a pretty, long black and white striped jumper and black heels accompanied by her large black purse that probably had her school uniform in it.

Once you get closer you wave at her, her returning wave much more subtle. She's covering her mouth with her other hand, and once you all reach her, you can tell she's crying. 

All the boys are a little frazzled, but you know that they all mean well. She probably wasn't the only person to nearly faint when meeting them.

"안녕하세요," she manages to stutter through her hand. You're smiling at her, beckoning her to join the group, but she doesn't move. 

The other boys are quietly complimenting her on her pronunciation and making comments to themselves, Johnny leaning toward you to ask if she's okay, but you're more focused on watching this all unfold. Mark nudges you with his elbow.

"Here, watch this." He steps up to Donghyuck and whispers in his ear, gripping the younger boys' shoulders and full on shoving him in Rhiannon's direction.

Donghyuck says a few startled words in Korean, none that you can really catch, holding out his hands and bracing for a fall. His grip lands on Rhiannon's shoulders and she is barely able to catch him by placing her hands on his chest.

Both of them yelp in surprise, the other boys watching and laughing warmly to themselves. Eventually, the two of them settle into a proper hug, Rhiannon shoving her tear-ridden face into Donghyuck's shoulder. 

Mark wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your cheek, grinning mischievously. "I hope they're soulmates," he says, quiet enough that only you can hear it. 

"I hope so too." 

Rhiannon can barely keep herself composed as all the other members give her a greeting hug once they all manage to peel her and Donghyuck off of each other. She showers them in stuttered compliments and praises, all phrases you have heard her planning to say months ago while the two of you were discussing what you would say to your idols if you ever met them. 

It's an emotional moment, and it makes you all the more motivated to spend the day making your task absolutely perfect. Just one photo. 

You could have laughed at yourself. 'One photo', Johnny and Jaehyun had specified when you first met them. Like that was ever going to happen. In one take, Donghyuck had coughed and caused motion blur, another where Johnny's eyes were closed, Jaehyun's eyes were both somehow blocked at the same time by cherry blossom petals, and one more where Yuta stepped back and lost his balance on a large rock a child had kicked towards him while he was passing by. 

Through Taeyong's insistence of a perfect photo and tiny bits of life getting in the way, you felt as if taking one photo for NCT127 was going to be the longest photo shoot of your career that hadn't even started yet. You all were laughing and smiling through it, which made the experience fun and enjoyable, even though there were so many things to consider. 

Click. 

Your smile was wide as you went back into your camera to look at the preview of the last photo you've taken. All the boys come out from their poses to gather around you and Rhiannon, each of them scrambling to get a good look at the tiny preview screen on your camera. 

"I think this is the one," you confidently say. 

Everyone is posed happily at the edge of the old cobblestone path, in between two cherry trees that were shedding cherry blossom petals, all of which were perfectly captured floating through the picture, none of them obscuring any faces. Everyone was smiling, had open eyes, and each part of the photo was clear and crisp. You even managed to think that you maybe didn't need to touch it up in photoshop at all. Even the lighting was nearly perfect. 

"This is the one," Jungwoo agrees with you, after managing to push Taeil aside long enough to have a direct look at the camera. 

"I think so too," Mark chimes in next to you. "You're amazing." 

You're going red in the face as most of the boys begin to agree with you. Once you have your personal space back, you're able to turn off your camera and place it securely in your bag. 

"Let's go for ice cream!" Doyoung suggests, and everyone else immediately agreed. 

Spending time with all of the members of 127 and Rhiannon didn't really feel as crowded as you thought it would be. Of course, in reality, it was - especially at the small ice cream cafe you all ended up in - taking up two whole booths. 

It all felt real and like a dream at the same time, genuinely spending time with them and talking, being friendly. The day wasted away as you all explored the city, wandering into random stores and picking out little trinkets as souvenirs. At times you would pull out your camera to take more photos, the day's progression adding to your different collections of lighting and atmosphere. 

Eventually, you all had dinner together, splitting the cost of a giant order of homemade pasta at the St Lawrence market, piling onto the picnic tables on the lower floor and sharing a quiet few moments as the sun set on another day. 

“So, (Y/N), what made you a fan?” Jaehyun is smiling at you, eyes switching between looking at you and Jungwoo who is sitting on your right, shovelling his pasta in his mouth. You don’t even think he’s chewing it. 

“Rhiannon,” you say flatly. Rhiannon kicks your shin quickly after, she’s sitting in between Donghyuck and Jaehyun, smiling innocently. “Ow! Well, uhm, we were in high school at the time when she became a k-pop fan, and immediately tried to pull me down the rabbit hole as well. I was reluctant for a while, but eventually, I gave in. When I started exploring on my own, I saw your Firetruck music video and… well, the rest is history.”

Mark, who is sitting on your left, is grinning at you. “What’s your favourite song by us?” He asks and soon turns his attention to Rhiannon.

“Which subgroup?” She asks excitedly. “I can name one for each, so can (Y/N).”

You sheepishly nod. “All of them,” Johnny quickly chimes in, picking slowly at his own food.

“Well, it’s always been tough for me to decide but Boss is my favourite U song, Touch is my favourite 127 song, GO is my favourite Dream song and since WayV made a debut a little while ago with Regular, that’s my favourite by them so far.” You answer sheepishly, and Mark’s grinning at you. It’s probably because he’s involved with 99% of those songs. 

“And yours?” Donghyuck is looking at Rhiannon expectantly. His accent is thick and you find it very endearing that he’s doing his best to speak English. 

Rhiannon hummed, a grin spread over her face. “BOSS by NCTU, Whiplash by NCT127, We Young by NCTDREAM, and I really like the teaser video music for WayV’s debut.” 

Donghyuck’s smile widens to a grin, “We hot,” “And we young!” Rhiannon, Mark and Donghyuck all sing in unison, which causes everyone else to start laughing. 

Jungwoo finishes off most of his plate and hums as if he wants to ask a question. You give him your attention and he asks a question in Korean, but you can’t quite understand it. Before Mark can open his mouth to translate with a blush, Rhiannon does it first. “He wants to know who your favourite member was before Mark,” she says, grinning mischievously at you. 

Your face goes beet red as you not so subtly look over at Johnny. He is looking between you and Mark, the latter immediately wraps an arm protectively around your shoulders. “Uhm… well, I really liked Johnny at first. I had a really big crush on him. Then Mark became my bias,” you’re looking at Johnny sheepishly, who is smiling sweetly at you.

Doyoung then chimes in, also speaking Korean, which Rhiannon translates to “now you’re making it awkward!” 

The conversation continued in Korean, Johnny putting his hands up defensively and also turning beet red as Mark starts speaking, and everything is going so fast even Rhiannon can’t seem to translate it besides “Yeah, they’re arguing”. Meanwhile, you’re trying to eat your food and not react to the whole thing. 

It takes a little while for everything to calm down, and at that point, you’re staring at Rhiannon who just shrugs at you. You’re awkwardly scraping sauce from the bottom of your dish as someone finally speaks up again, Mark tightening his grip protectively around you. “What made you so good at Korean, Rhiannon?” It’s Johnny, who is doing his best to not make eye contact with Mark, who you guess is still a little heated from that argument that ended not three minutes ago. 

“Well,” Rhiannon starts shyly. “A lot of Korean TV shows and a couple of friends from live streams I watch.”

“It’s impressive, you should keep practising,” Mark praises with a smile. 

"Thank you," Rhiannon is now also red in the face, grinning like an idiot.

"When are your birthdays?" Jungwoo is wiping his sauce-drenched face with a napkin, his accent thick. He's endearing, you think.

"Mine's July fifteenth, ninety-eight," you answer shyly, a little nervous to see their reactions, learning that you're older than Mark. 

Donghyuck's eyes widen for a moment as he nearly shouts "Noona!" In your direction, making you fully hide your face in your hands. 

"Your birthday is close to mine," Taeyong finally speaks up, and Mark rubs your shoulder gently to keep you from hiding your face. "Mine is July first."

"Mine's October twenty-fifth, ninety-eight," Rhiannon chimes in. 

Donghyuck is almost equally surprised to learn this, but this time he's quieter. He still says "noona," while looking Rhiannon straight in the eye as she goes beet red and looks away from him.

"We are birthday buddies!" Yuta exclaims, grinning wildly and still holding a fork full of pasta that is slowly slipping off the utensil. "Mine is October twenty-sixth!" 

This brings Rhiannon back from being shy. She brightens up, smiling over at Yuta who flashes her a big thumbs up - "we should celebrate together!" The conversation picks back up and once again begins to wildly veer from topic to topic. 

Once everyone finished their food, you all walked around the lower levels, stopping at another shop full of Canada themed trinkets and souvenirs. Mark ended up buying a hilarious red and black plaid onesie, the butt of the pyjamas was removable and had a bear on it. Donghyuck bought a stuffed moose and the others bought a variety of shirts and maple flavoured treats. You ended up buying a stuffed animal yourself, a soft polar bear, an idea mind for it. However, you weren't sure you would be brave enough to ask Mark about it. 

Not noticing the time seemed to be the growing trend these past few days, as when you all clamour out of the bottom floor of the market, it had gotten dark and the place was about to close for the night. All of you headed to the subway together, chatting and forgetting about life outside the day.

Mark held you close, an arm wrapped securely around your waist. "Can I walk you to your dorm?" 

"Don't you think you should just go back with the guys?" You ask. "The subway is really expensive…"

Mark smiled and shook his head. "It's okay, we have special passes for when we're here. I just want to spend more time with you."

Your heart melted and you nearly teared up. "I want to spend more time with you too." 

Mark grinned and held you a little closer as you walked. He was warm, and you wouldn't admit it out loud, but your entire body was screaming. You wanted to hold him forever. 

You all separated at the subway station, the boys taking the opposite train. Rhiannon and Donghyuck had their own little moment before he left as their train arrived. They talked in Korean a few feet away from the crowd of boys and a little further away from where you and Mark were standing. It was sweet, watching them intentionally hug this time, holding hands until the last moment when the train was about to close its doors. 

Donghyuck wanted to walk to the dorm as well, but Taeyong remarked that Mark had already been lectured enough the past few days he had decided to stay out late. Donghyuck protested but eventually had to give in.

Mark walked the two of you home, right to the door of your apartment.

"I'll leave you two alone for a bit," Rhiannon said softly, unlocking the door and slipping inside, leaving you and Mark alone in the hallway. 

You looked up at Mark, who was returning your gaze and smiling at you warmly. "You are more beautiful every time I look at you," he says, a cheesy grin spreading across his face as he watches your reaction. 

"Mark," you're nearly laughing as you say his name, "please, you make me blush!"

"Good," he speaks softly. "I just want to make you feel the best that I can in the time that I can."

That was when it hit you. Every time you had to think about having a soulmate, you had really only thought about yourself. You inwardly chastised yourself for being so selfish - and frowned. 

"Mark, I'm sorry," you begin softly, and his expression turns to concern.

"For what? Are you okay?" He asks, hands gently cupping your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, "of course I am. I just feel terrible that all of this has happened to you so quickly. I only thought about myself when it hit me you would be leaving the day after the concert." 

Mark nodded. "I'm going to miss you," he admitted. "But I feel amazing whenever I'm with you. I want to spend as much time here with you as I can, so I can remember it. Until the next time I can see you." 

"Mark," he sighed as you said his name, "are we going to be okay?" 

Mark nodded softly. "Of course we will be. No distance, land mass or body of water is going to get between us, ever." 

"Okay," you whisper. "I trust you." You stare into Mark's eyes for a moment, his hands still gently resting on your face. He presses his forehead to yours, and your noses touch for a moment. That was when the moment both sped up and felt like it was slowing down at the same time. 

Mark presses his lips to yours softly, his hands moving past your neck and your shoulders to your hips. He's soon moving to press you up against the wall of the hallway, trapping you between it and him. His mouth moves over yours, and you feel him hum and separate you for just long enough for him to kiss you from another angle, pressing his body closer to yours.

 Your little shopping bag with your polar bear inside drops to the floor as you let go of it to place your hands on his chest. Mark groans into the kiss, backing up for a moment to look at you with hungry eyes before diving back in. 

You don't know how long he kissed you for, hands running up and down your sides, tight enough that he could probably feel your bra underneath your t-shirt. You're suddenly whimpering when he presses his knee between your legs-

"(Y/N), get your ass in here before I punch your soulmate!"

Mark releases your lips with a sheepish laugh, licking away the saliva trail between your mouths, which almost makes you faint. His face is red, blush extended past his cheeks to travel to the bridge of his nose. "Sorry," he whispers shakily, "got carried away." 

"Me too," you admit, trembling against the wall when Mark finally sets you free. "I, um-" 

"Me too," he repeats, as if he read your mind. He takes a gentle hold of your hand. "Maybe another time?" You understand what he's implying, as if your entire body isn't on fire already, you quickly nod. 

Mark lets your hand slip from his, and you can tell he is having a hard time peeling his eyes away from you so he can leave. "Mark, wait, before you go-"

"What is it?" He asks, tilting his head to the side. He's having trouble keeping eye contact, his eyes flicking constantly from yours to your lips. 

"My polar bear," you start, picking up the bag you dropped earlier. "Could you please, um… cuddle him for a while? Until you leave?"

Mark's eyebrows furrow until he realizes what you meant, his eyes drifting from your face to look at the plastic bag you're holding out to him. "Will this help you when I'm gone?" He asks, gingerly taking the bag from you.

"I hope so," you say quietly, clinging to him in one last hug. "I'll give you something of mine in exchange."

Mark returns the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Sounds like a plan." 

You watch Mark leave, nearly breathless and a pit at the base of your throat. Thoughts ran through your head of what could have happened if you weren't interrupted, the pit running further and further down your body to rest with the butterflies in your stomach. 

Once you're finally able to go back inside, you really wish you hadn't immediately met eyes with your best friend, perched on the armrest of the couch and holding a mug of tea. Both her eyebrows are raised and a smirk is dancing on her lips.

"Were you two trying to fuck in the hallway?" She asked, taking a sip of her tea, watching you struggle to take off your shoes. 

"N-no," you stutter, trembling hands giving away that you were… most likely lying. 

Rhiannon laughed and shook her head. "Jeez. Learn to get a room," she jokes. "I'm going to bed." 

"N-night," you call as you watch her pad into her own room and shut the door, leaving you to your own thoughts. It was hard for you to keep your brain from going off the rails as you changed into your pyjamas. You considered making tea, but you figured it was probably a bad idea. Shortly after changing, showering and doing your bedtime routine you slipped under the covers of your bed.Your rampant thoughts were made all the worse when you got a text from Mark.

Mark: I'm back safe

You: good, I'm happy you're safe 

You: I'm about to go to bed

Mark: I wish I was there in bed with you 

You could have audibly gasped when you read his text. You thought for so long with your fingers hovering over the keys that you got another text from him.

Mark: I'm sorry I got so carried away in the hall. I just really wanted to touch you. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable at all

You: no of course not, I actually really liked it

Mark: you did? Oh God… now itll never leave my head 

You: I don't think it will leave mine either.. I really wish you could have stayed 

Mark: me too but I would have gotten in a lot of trouble and the concert is already tomorrow 

You: and you're leaving Saturday :(

Mark: yeah… 

You: I want to kiss you again

Mark: I want to do a lot more than that 

Your heart picks up speed and you grab your Death Star throw pillow to squeal into it. You're trembling even more as you type your reply.

You: I wish we had more time

Mark: we can make some if you come straight to the stadium after your class 

You: ok

You: I'll run

Mark: looking forward to it

Mark: Rest well okay

You: I'll do my best considering

You: You too

Mark: yeah I promise I'll try

You locked your phone and placed it on your desk next to your bed and turned over, bringing the covers over your shoulders. It was hard to concentrate on sleeping, but you eventually dozed into a dream-filled sleep. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC:  Someone to Drive ch.1 (standalone)

Summary: Sometimes, all you really need is someone to drive.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Melancholy, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Developing Relationship

~*~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

When Edge lived in Underfell, none of the Monsters he knew had cell phones. Not because they couldn't have used them but for the simple reason that if you had enough leftover G to trade for a phone then you were obviously not dedicating yourself enough to the more important aspects of Underfell life.

Staying alive, for example.

Anyone who did manage to save enough to pay for one of the taped-up devices with shattered screens and missing buttons that occasionally showed up in the shops would inevitably decide that they did, actually, need to eat more than they needed to call anyone and so eventually sold it on to the next fool, letting their debt spiral and expand in other ways that they would again regret far too soon.

The fact that Edge could easily afford a cell phone now made him feel old in ways that didn't seem possible.

He'd dreamt of Underfell the past few nights, or more precisely, a dream version of Underfell as it never was, seemingly from when he and Red first came to Snowdin with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.

It wasn't that strange a dream to have. These days Edge felt like he was starting over again, this time in a studio apartment where he slept on a futon mattress with no frame and ate his meals over the sink. It would look better soon enough, when he found some real furniture to replace what he'd left back (with Red) at the other place. Real furniture and dishes with more permanence than a few plastic forks and a stack of paper plates from one of the local restaurants would improve the appearance of his newest home, but he wasn't sure when it was going to start feeling real.

He doubted it was going to start at three am with his phone ringing.

Edge didn’t usually need to sleep more than a handful of hours in a night, a habit that was already serving him well in his college classes. That did not mean he didn’t need the sleep that he did get, and he woke from another dream about Underfell-as-it-never-was to his phone persistently buzzing next to him. He was barely awake as he fumbled for his phone in the darkness, managing to swipe ‘answer’ before mumbling into it, “H'llo?"

There was static in the background, blank white noise, and he almost tossed the phone back on the old milk crate that was temporarily serving as a nightstand when a voice finally said, "can you come get me?"

It might have taken him a little while to recognize the voice even if he hadn't still been mostly asleep. They hadn't talked in weeks and even then not for long. When he finally did mentally attach a name to that voice, Edge woke up further, dragged to wakefulness by pure astonishment.

“Stretch?” Of all people who might call him, Stretch wasn’t at the bottom of the list, but he was certainly close. That was surely the same for Stretch, neither of them were likely to call the other for a simple chat. Which meant if he was calling, then something must be very wrong. Edge sat up and clicked on the reading lamp by his bed, already kicking aside the blankets tangled around his legs. "Come get…where are you?"

A moment’s pause. There was something behind that static, a sort of distantly bustling sound of others, too quiet to be a bar or late-night diner, where could he possibly— "the bus station in cascade."

"Cascade?” Edge said, disbelievingly, “Cascade as in the next city over?" Cascade that was certainly not Ebott at 3am on what was a very early Friday morning.

More silence, then a sound that might have been a watery sigh. "yeah. that’s the place."

He sounded normal enough, but this was Stretch. Blue’s younger brother, his alternate from another world, and they were not precisely friends, yet he was at a bus station in Cascade calling Edge in Ebott a at three in the damn morning and…

Edge didn’t ask why Stretch couldn’t teleport or call his brother, call someone, anyone, else. He didn’t ask anything at all. He only said, "All right,” and rubbed a weary hand over his face. "I can be there in a half an hour, maybe. Just stay there, all right? Don’t leave the bus station."

The very last thing any of them needed was Stretch taking to the streets of Cascade in the darkest part of the night. If the bus station was where Edge thought it was, it wasn’t the safest part of the city even in broad daylight.

The faint buzz and background noise changed as if Stretch was walking, perhaps moving to make his agreement legitimate before he replied, "yeah, okay. i won’t."

The call disconnected before he could say anything else. Edge didn’t waste time trying to call him back. He scrambled out of bed, still sleep-clumsy as he snatched up the first pair of pants in his dresser and started yanking them on. Next was a t-shirt and socks, shoving his feet into the boots closest to the door as he shrugged on a jacket. A Monster alone in a bus station was an invitation for trouble anywhere, much less a strange, unwelcoming city like he knew Cascade to be. Any questions would have to wait until he knew Stretch was safe.

In minutes Edge was grabbing his keys and heading downstairs, his boots echoing in the dank concrete stairwell that led to the street. Soon after his car was pulling out onto the street, the cell phone he could never have afforded in Underfell on his dash with a soothing feminine voice directing him where to turn as he drove off into the night.

~*~

The traffic picked up once Edge drove into Cascade city, people on their way to their early morning jobs or heading home from late ones. It was closer to forty minutes when he finally pulled into the bus station parking lot and Edge made sure to lock his car before he went inside, the reassuring blip-bloop following him as he walked away. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his skull before he went inside, tucked into concealing depths. Once, he would have scoffed at constantly wearing a hoodie. It barely qualified as a disguise, anyone looking at him from the front could hardly mistake him for anything but a Monster. From behind, though, he could be anyone at all, and that was occasionally useful here on the surface, he’d learned.

Something that Stretch seemed to have learned as well. The bright orange hood pulled up over the head of the tall, slender person sitting in the waiting area was unmistakable.

Edge strode over swiftly, glancing around the station as he did. It was mostly empty. In one corner a sleeping Human was lying across several of the grungy seats looking less as if he were waiting for a bus than settled in for the night. Only one of the ticket stalls was open, another Human sitting inside it with her chin propped on a hand as she drowsed, the coffee cup next to her teetering ominously on the lip of the counter. The rest of the seats were empty, waiting for the next round of people coming from someplace else or heading out the same way. Edge took the one next to the orange hoodie, folding his hands into his lap rather than reaching out as he said cautiously, “Stretch?”

Stretch was sitting with his legs drawn up, his tall frame jigsawed between the arms of the narrow seat. His face wasn’t visible, words coming from inside the hood as he said, “i forgot my wallet, couldn’t buy a ticket.”

“All right,” Edge said, slowly, unsure of what else to say. His own wallet was in his back pocket, and he could easily buy a ticket to any destination listed on the board next to the ticket window; he’d saved all the money that came from the stipend given to all Monsters from the sales of their technology to the Humans and his savings would be enough for his classes and living expenses for quite some time yet. Could buy a ticket, was not about to do so without more answers.

There was no request for a ticket or anything else. The narrow shoulders under the hoodie hunched further, the arms around his upraised knees tightening as Stretch curled inward into the isolating shell of shirt and limbs. When he spoke again, his voice was thoughtfully low, quiet enough to almost be unheard. "thought about renting a car, heh, could’ve done that online with my phone. but the rental place is across town."

Rent a car? "Stretch,” Edge said carefully, “you can't drive." Unless that changed recently. Even if it had and even if somehow Stretch could get to the rental place, no wallet, no driver’s license, no car.

"you can.” The chair creaked as he shifted and for the first time Stretch looked up at him. His hood cast his face in shadow, showing only the moving line of his even teeth as he spoke and the soft glow of his eye lights. “you can drive. can't you?"

Edge met that pale gaze with his own, crimson boring into gleaming white. He didn't know what the hell was going on. He was tired, it was four am in a dirty bus station in a strange town and Stretch was not precisely his friend.

His eye lights were pale white, nothing at all like Edge’s, but the quiet desperation in their depths was like looking in a mirror.

Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind when Edge said, softly, "Yes. I can."

~*~

The walk back out to his car was a silent one, Stretch’s sneakers ghosting across the tile floor and his own stride was muted out of habit. The quiet was useful; in his mind, Edge was already making plans. He didn’t have class again until Tuesday, four days away, and in a few hours he’d send a message to Undyne asking her to feed his cat. Anything else could wait until he returned.

Walking through the parking lot interrupted his planning. The streetlamps weren’t as bright as he’d prefer, some of them flickering with a nauseating strobe effect that created concealing shadows. Lengthening his strides to put himself ahead of Stretch was automatic, leading the way to the car and if Stretch noticed, he said nothing. He kept his own hands tucked into his pockets rather than at the ready, gravel scattering under his shuffling steps.

The caution proved unnecessary, this time. With a quick button press, Edge unlocked the car and they both got in, Edge pushing back his hood and Stretch leaving his up while they fastened their seatbelts. The roads were busier now, more people driving to and fro the way they did every day, stopping to buy their coffee with their bagged lunches on the seat next to them. Edge turned towards the main highway, merging into traffic and heading towards the lightening sky before he asked, “Where are we going?”

Stretch only looked out the window, his eye lights reflected in the glass. “somewhere else.”

Edge nodded and replied, “All right.” He pressed down harder on the gas, the car surging forward as he drove towards the rising sun.

tbc

[fieryhonesty]

“Talked with a friend about how bad bus drivers are where I live and how many times I landed on somebody or somebody has landed on me. Somehow felt like to write a short fic about it, ended up being more from real life than I dare to admit. N-no! it’s not like that!”

Words: 2714

Genre: fluff, modern AU, gn!reader

"-and that's it for today. Don't forget to review, the exam will mostly contain questions based on this topic. The results will gradually affect your grades." 

With those words the professor has left the room. It was the last class of the day and obviously he didn't want to waste any minute. Hurrying to his car not to get caught in traffic. 

You were idly sitting at your desk, not even paying attention to others packing their stuff and leaving the classroom. You are slowly the last person in the room. You didn't listen most of the time and had no idea what the professor was talking about. Your mind was drifting everywhere, it's too hard to stay focused on classes. Especially when your mind is overflowing with ideas.

Last night you had talked with one of your friends. You two knew since elementary school and despite choosing different schools and paths you remained in contact. She knew everything about you including the passion for writing. It was just a hobby of yours. You had never planned it to be your career.

 In fact not so many knew about it. People around you knew you were writing something in your notebook. But you are a student, probably writing some notes for school or something. And you always hid your writings when somebody was approaching. Even if they asked what you were doing you just said 'rewriting my school notes, hehe.'

Except that one friend nobody has any idea about your passion. Perhaps it's for the best as you are really shy about it. The thought of other people seeing what you write or how you write is kind of terrifying. Publishing your stories never crossed your mind until your friend got fed up one day. Telling you to just go and publish it. There was no room for negotiations.

Your shyness slowly disappeared, at least when it came to publishing your works online. People didn't know you, your name or who you are. They knew you under a nickname and that's it. You felt safe and happy as you got quickly recognized and fans were leaving supportive comments. 

Writing is your way to express yourself and your emotions. Talking to people face to face is quite harder. You don't have the time to think it through and usually say the first thing which comes to your mind. Sometimes ending up saying some weird stuff which embarrasses you. That's why you rather don't initiate talk or talk really rarely. 

You are most talkative around your best friend and family. Everything else is just giving you anxious feelings. You'd love to start talking with others, especially if they are talking about something you are also interested in. But you are simply not that kind of person who would randomly join in and talk. Sometimes you wish all conversations could happen in written form, that way you would be the star.

You wanted to pull out your notebook and write down some of your thoughts but you realized where you are. Looking around the classroom, it's only you. Sighing for yourself. It will have to wait until you arrive at your apartment. Quickly packing all books into your fancy bag and rushing to your locker. 

You were actually sharing the locker with another person but they are sick at the moment. Their half is clean as ever, books neatly folded, cup and coffee hidden in the back part of the locker. They actually made you into the coffee addicted person you are now. At first you didn't like it but eventually fell in love with the bitter flavor. 

Sometimes you fetch some latté on your way home, thinking of where you would be without caffeine. It's probably one of the best things which happened to you during your university days. So many sleepless nights as you were studying for exams or writing until early morning. 

Changing into your comfy shoes, wrapping a scarf around your neck and dressing into the coat you loved so much. It's so warm and cool looking, makes you feel badass whenever you wear it. One last glance over your stuff in the locker in case you had forgotten about something. All set. Time to catch a bus.

Knowing about you had missed all early buses and will probably get stuck in traffic. Which is fine by you, your earbuds and music is ready. Luckily you didn't have to wait for too long at the bus stop. But it was enough for your cheeks to start freezing. As always you stood at your usual spot. Not feeling like sitting as you do it the whole day at school and home. 

Wrapping one arm around the pole, leaning a bit at it. There's not many people with you on the bus and so you can monopolize the pole and the area around it. You put down your bag as it was quite heavy and your shoulder was starting to hurt. Pulling the phone out of your pocket and browsing news. 

Not really paying attention, just mindlessly scrolling through articles. Sometimes reading the first few sentences before you go back and keep scrolling. 

As expected the bus was moving slowly, the delay was getting worse and worse. Checking the time, you had already spent here over ten minutes. If the bus had moved by a few meters, it's a lot, let's say that. Delays are quite normal at this hour so you don't really sweat it. Looking back to your screen, resuming your news browsing.

After a couple of minutes the bus finally got out of the major traffic and quickly catching up with the delay. As expected the ride was faster than usual, hopefully still within the speed limits. However you won't know this, all you know is the roundabout you will reach soon won't be funny. It's quite a steep one and even if the driver will take it very slowly you will have a hard time balancing yourself.

You are prepared, actually holding tight the pole instead of leaning on it. You have a perfect posture to keep yourself stable. Maybe your grip on the pole is a bit too convulsive. As you feel unpleasant pressure in your wrist. The moment you ease the grip a little, feeling how your feet are sliding. Before you tighten your grip again you fly forward. Trying your best not to crash into the person who was sitting there.

Despite all of your efforts you land on them. You are in shock but more than that you are embarrassed. As you tried to pull back and regain your posture. Feeling hands on your shoulders. Apologies are about to roll out of your lips but they are faster.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Up until now you didn't realize it's a guy you fell on. His long crimson locks tied into a ponytail. At first you thought you had landed on a woman. But his hoarse voice assured you he is anything but a female. You are too close to him for your comfort, his scent already entered your nose. Feeling how heat is rising in your cheeks. This is bad. His crimson eyes were darting around your face, looking for any sign of injury.

'This is embarrassing, say something you idiot!'

"Uh, yea. I... I'm terribly sorry!"

Your voice nearly betrayed you. The last word could be barely heard which made you even more wishing to just be able to vanish. Staring at the male unable to think what to say. Feeling relieved when the bus has stopped as he lets go his hold on you. If you could, you could have dug yourself in a ten meters deep hole and never climb up. 

Quickly murmuring out another apology. Grabbing your bag and jumping out of the bus. It doesn't matter if your stop is still far away. You'd rather walk the rest or wait for another bus than stay in that one.

It was already dark outside when you arrived at your place. Freezing and tired. Trying not to think of what happened earlier but you couldn't get the male's scent out of your nose. It was like he is still next to you, the sweet smell of vanilla. 

You let it be as you tossed the bag into a corner in your room. You are too hungry to think about anything. Making some quick cup noodles and eating them while going through another writing and editing session.

Days were passing by. Always the same: school, ride home and then either study or write. You had forgotten about what happened a few days ago, not even mentioning it to your close friend who had been hanging out with you here and now in chat.

It's Friday and you are feeling like chugging one quick latté. Perhaps you will sit there for a while and write a bit. You sure do like the atmosphere in café shops especially with playing jazz. Sitting in your corner, peeking at other customers here and now. Just to be sure nobody is approaching you. 

You ordered your regular and are waiting for the waitress. In the meantime you pull out your small notebook and read through the latest ideas. You usually write short things there, like drabbles which sometimes turn into much longer stories.

When a cup with your favorite drink landed on the table you looked up and shot a quick smile at the waitress. She answered with the same gesture before checking on other customers.

You fished for a pen in your bag. As soon as the tip of the pen touched the paper, a group of guys entered the shop. You didn't look up to check on them. Why would you anyway? You came here to chill after school, enjoy your drink and possibly write a few lines. Well maybe if you did check, then you would have noticed the redhead from before. 

He was dragged here by his friends as they got this stupid idea to look at girls. Starting here at café and moving to other public places. He didn't want to. He is kind of tired after the long week but that's also the reason why he is here. Too tired to search for excuses. And he knew he would need valid ones especially for his little brother whose idea was all of this.

As he sat with them, quite unbothered by their talk about the waitress who just took their order. Pulling out his phone to finish reading something he started during lunch break. He agreed to tag along not join into their jewelry observations as they call it. They could be talking about anything and he wouldn't pay mind to it. 

Only to be brought back to reality when Childe snatched his phone away. Grinning at him.

"C'mon Diluc, your social media can wait. Cute girls won't~"

The scarlet haired male rolled eyes at the ginger.

"For your information, reading stories is not the same as browsing twitter."

"Oh? What I am hearing? I didn't know my big bro is into reading inappropriate stories."

Diluc shot a glare at the bluenette. Reconsidering if it's worth his time to argue about it. If anyone is reading smuts here, it's Kaeya. Why is he hanging out with his brother again? 

Childe waved with his phone in front of his face in a very taunting manner. But didn't evade when Diluc reached for it, sliding it back into his coat. Looking around the café and then he noticed you. He was not sure if it's really you, the person who fell on him on the bus a few days ago. But when you looked up to take a sip of your latté he saw your face.

Something inside of him felt like to get up and go talk to you. But he can't. Or? Can he talk to you? A total stranger whom he met only once and under strange circumstances? For some reason he really wanted to greet you at least. He resisted the urge for long enough, at least until Kaeya didn't notice where he was looking and said something about it. 

Grabbing his cup and slowly approaching you. He didn't know what he was doing or why he was doing it. When he was close enough to your table, clearing his throat, asking if he could join you.

Your eyes shoot up to the not so familiar voice. Widening when you realized it's the same guy from back then. Feeling like your stomach was being squished. Just when you had forgotten about that embarrassing moment. 

All what you managed was a nod, observing how he sat at the chair opposite of you. Nervously smiling at him. What should you say? This is awkward. 

"Um-" 

You both started in unison, exchanging embarrassed looks. You motioned to him to start.

"Hi, uh. Hope I'm not disturbing?"

"No... not at all." 

You put your hand over the notebook instinctively. It's a habit of yours, hiding it from anyone's eyes.

"I'm Diluc and you are-"

"That person who landed on you on the bus, yes that’s me." 

You deadpanned. Can't help it but smile a little, finding it funny. The guy who you fell at, the one who should be mad at you. He is trying to talk to you and what's better he also seems to be nervous while talking. Feeling a bit relieved as it probably won't be only you embarrassing themselves.

He chuckled a little at your words. Kind of wishing to know you more than just a person who fell on him. When you tried to apologize once again he stopped you, saying it's fine. To change the topic he asked for your name and where were you going back then. 

When he found out you are also an university student he felt relieved a bit and more at ease. You had something in common, something you both could relate to. As the talk between you warmed up enough, when the first uneasiness faded. You talked about your hobbies, of course you didn't want to tell him about your big passion and said you are reading.

Which wasn't that much far from reality but unlike him you didn't read from known authors or big titles. In fact most of your reading were stories from other passionate writers, mixed with random novels here and now. 

"Oh, I also happen to read stories posted on the web. Some people are really talented."

He admits and flashes you something that one could describe as a slight smile? But really quick so your brain barely registers it. 

"Hey um, I know this will be strange. But I kind of enjoy our talk, it's much more..." He trailed off as he was thinking how to put  it without saying anything bad about his companions. Who are probably scheming or coming up with various ideas how to use this against him. 

"What I mean is, you act like a person in your age unlike my brother."

You tried not to laugh too much. Giggles escaping your lips. Truth to be told you were also enjoying this little talk between the two of you. This was probably the very first conversation you had with a stranger. And they didn't seem to mind your awkwardness. 

It feels like you two understand each other. Both are interested in literature, have to deal with school troubles and have something unique to each of you.

Looking up into his ruby eyes. "Yeah. I'm enjoying this too. Why didn't I fall on you earlier?!"

Both of you laughed at that remark. 

"If you don't mind, we could do this more often?"

"You mean me falling on you on the bus or drinking coffee?" 

"The latter. If I see you on the same bus I'll make sure you sit."

You two had talked more after this. Way longer than both of you expected. When Diluc checked the table where his companions were sitting before he noticed they are gone. He didn't think of checking his phone. But once he does he will find a message from his brother.

「'Seems like you had found somebody to spent night with, don't worry about your lil bro and enjoy~ 😘 '」

[loverspersonas]

the most beautiful moment in life | part vii

pairing: ot7? x reader

genre: hyyh au, high school au, angst, drama, fluff, smut?

length: 5k

summary: Eight strangers with different stories happen to meet one day, by fate or some kind of cruel, exquisite happenstance, and realize that they’re not as different as they thought.

↳series masterlist

“So it was under this character?”

“Yes,��� you answered.

“And it was in English?”

“Yes,” Seokjin said.

“Spelt exactly like this?”

“Yes, Taehyung, okay?” you exclaimed, exasperated. “We covered this already. We were under the bridge by the river and we saw it on the graffiti wall.”

The next day at school, the eight of you met in the library after you and Seokjin had called in a meeting. The way you spoke about it made it sound like you were some sort of breakfast club. You had met in detention, after all. Maybe you could even form a band like they did in the movies.

Taehyung gave a noncommittal shrug. “Just making sure we don’t miss anything.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” the librarian appeared in front of your table, shooting a scalding look between all of you. “This is a library, and we don’t tolerate noise here.”

“Would you look at that,” Yoongi said dryly without looking at her. “Must’ve slipped our mind.”

He didn’t bother hiding any irritation in his voice, so the librarian opened her mouth to retort until Namjoon started with a polite smile, “We’re sorry. We’ll keep it down.”

That seemed to be reassuring enough for her, because she walked away. Leave it to Namjoon to pacify any of the teachers.

“Isn’t it kind of weird that we didn’t notice it before?” Jimin asked in a lower voice.

“We were a little distracted,” Namjoon said. “And it was dark.”

“What if it wasn’t there before?” Hoseok asked.

Jungkook frowned. “Meaning what? Someone wrote it afterwards?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “No, it magically appeared there overnight, Jungkook. Yes, someone put it there.”

There was something you didn’t like about his tone. Something about his mood had been off all morning. He could’ve been sarcastic to anyone else, but to you, Jungkook was a little different. You felt almost defensive about him. “You know, that attitude isn’t very helpful,” you spoke pointedly.

Yoongi’s expression was as dry as sand as he looked at you. ”Sorry, did I hurt your feelings, princess?”

It was clear since your first conversation that the two of you would have a kind of relationship where teasing and picking at each other would become a norm. But you hadn’t realized before that he would have these major mood swings. You glanced at him in slight disbelief.  “I told you not to call me that.”

“And I told you I don’t care—“

“Guys, really?” Namjoon said, looking between you. “Can we get through a conversation without you two biting each other’s heads off?”

“If one of us stops acting like an ass,” you muttered under your breath.

“Or if one of us stops being such an entitled princess,” Yoongi retorted, apparently having heard your comment.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok said, his eyes holding something like a warning.

The older boy let out a sigh and grumbled, “Fine.”

“Back to the main point,” Jimin spoke slowly, like he was making sure you and Yoongi were finished. “Smeraldo. We’re assuming it’s an artist. But none of us have ever heard of him?”

“Or her,” you corrected.

He nodded at you. “Right. Or her.”

“It could be a small artist,” Taehyung said. He was rolling a coin around the table, not so concerned about the noise it was making. “You know, like a local thing. They don’t have much of an online presence normally.”

“Explains why I couldn’t find anything on google,” Namjoon added.

“Then how do we find them?” Jungkook asked.

“The old fashioned way. Look through books, magazines, shops or galleries. Maybe even more graffiti locations.”

Taehyung gave a small sigh. “I forgot how difficult life was before the internet.”

You shot him an amused glance, to which he gave you a sarcastic boxy smile. “Ever the dramatic, Tae.”

“How did the painting end up here?” Seokjin asked. “At Sky Academy of all places.”

There was a small gap as most of you pondered over it. Then Hoseok asked, “As in, what if somehow the academy is connected to the artist?”

“Maybe.”

You gazed around the table for a bit, watching your own expression being mirrored. Seokjin had a good point. What if Smeraldo was associated with the academy? It could make sense since all kinds of people and places endorsed the brand that was Sky. Did that mean that it was just a coincidence you had come across that painting? Or had it been left there intentionally?

You broke out of your thoughts as Yoongi shifted in his chair, grabbing his things as he got up. “Well, you guys have fun with your little research project.”

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked.

“History.” His eyes flicked in your direction. “Which I currently have a 90 average on, to all those who doubted me.”

You held back a scoff, shooting him a fake smile. “Who did you have to pay to change your grade?”

He looked like he wanted to make a retort equally snarky, but settled with mimicking your fake smile, though his was much colder. 

Taehyung watched him leave before looking back at the rest of you. “I can really feel the love here.”

It had been a while since you last found yourself on the rooftop of the academy’s main building. Students weren’t typically allowed access to it, except for the gardening club who had done a very nice job of decorating the place with green and shades of purples and pinks and yellows. You loved breathing in the air from up here, where the floral scent fused with the breeze. It was also quiet, and so ideal for when you wanted to think or be on your own. 

Which seemed to be often these days.

“Hey.”

The voice startled you a little, but your shoulders sunk in relief when it was just Jungkook walking towards you. 

“How’d you know where to find me?” you asked.

“I saw you leave,” he said, sitting down next to the ledge you were occupying. “Not very stealthily, might I add.”

You were downstairs with him and a few of the others and were about to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when you found yourself abruptly wanting to come up here instead. You rolled your eyes slightly. “I’ll work on it. We seem to have thing for rooftops, huh.”

He looked around the vast space, at the plants and the glass ceiling cover with a newfound amazement. “I didn’t know we could come up here.”

You couldn’t help but find his innocent fascination a little amusing, but refreshing too. “Me either. Not until last year when Min-hyuk—“ Now, you remembered why you’d also been avoiding the roof. “We stumbled upon it trying to outrun the football team.”

Jungkook noticed the break in your sentence and your mood, but didn’t comment on it. “They’re that bad, huh?” he joked.

“You have no idea.” You glanced sideways at him. “Say… how come you’re not on any sports team? You look like you could be a jock.” 

And you meant it, especially in this lighting that was doing wonders for his side profile. If he wasn’t such an introvert and recluse, he could very well fit in with the sports crowds. You don’t think you noticed it before, but Jungkook was handsome. Soft, shiny hair, a sharp nose and jawline. Not to mention, he was well on his way to being built like an athlete. 

He snorted. “I thought jocks were obnoxious and dumb.”

Your mouth formed into somewhat teasing smile. “But you’d be a nice jock.”

“An oxymoron,” he said, returning it with a laugh. He cleared his throat a little as the laugh died down. “Min-hyuk was nice, wasn’t he?”

Your demeanour lost every trace of amusement. “Everyone’s nice at first. Not everyone stays nice.”

“You did.”

At first, you didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say. Sometimes you realized it was harder to talk about yourself, especially personal things like insecurities. Was that what Min-hyuk had meant in that one argument when he’d called you unattached and indifferent? 

“Can I ask you something?” you started. “When you were on the roof that night, if I hadn’t been there... what would you have done?” 

He turned away from you, staring into space as he thought about it. “I don’t know. I feel like if it had been any other day, it would’ve been different. But that was the day we all met. When we found that first painting. It doesn’t make sense, but something kept telling me to hold on a little longer. And then you showed up and it was almost like a sign.”

“I have been called many things,” you mused. Somewhere underneath, maybe you were even amused or flattered. “A sign is not one of them.”

“It’s hard to explain,” he ended up saying. 

“Most things are.” 

You weren’t going to push him to talk about that night anymore. It was his lowest and darkest point. But you were glad he’d found something to cling to, whether it had been the words transpired between you two on the other roof, or the ambiguous hwa yang yeon hwa. That sliver of hope was like a raft in the middle of the worst kind of ocean. Staying afloat in the storm that was your mind was a struggle you knew all too well.

“Yeah.” His voice trailed off for a bit, like he was gathering courage to ask his next question. You could feel him watching you, as though expectantly. “Were you expecting someone else to come up here?”

“No.” As you turned your had to look his way, you bit back a smile, happy that nothing about it felt forced. “But I’m glad it was you.”

Slowly, his mouth curved into a similar smile, and you think you would’ve just stayed that way if you didn’t turn back to the skyline. 

Jungkook released a wistful sigh. “The sky’s really nice from up here. No wonder the garden club doesn’t want to share.”

You laughed. “Right?”

“I hate this,” Jimin said for what you were almost certain was the 500th time.

“The hospital?” You left the elevator of the said memorial hospital first, stopping when you realized the boy wasn’t walking with you. “You’ve said that already.”

He only began walking down the hallway after he noticed the expectant look you were shooting him. “No, the paint on these walls. What is that, eggshell white? It’s atrocious.”

“Okay, first, I really liked your usage of atrocious. And second, relax a little, Jimin.” The tension set in his shoulders was obvious not just to you but the staff and visitors passing by. Granted, hospitals had that sort of effect, but he didn’t need to be this anxious before he even stepped foot in the doctor’s office. “This place doesn’t hate you as much as you hate it.”

He scoffed. The sleeves of his sweatshirt were long enough for him to keep pulling and tugging at. “That’s hard to believe. If the building was alive, I’m sure it would spit me out instantly. I’m like that piece of cardamom you accidentally bite on.”

“You don’t like cardamom?”

“It’s possibly the only thing more atrocious than this paint. How can you like it?”

After the sharpness in his voice and the brief silence that followed, you asked, “How’re you feeling now?”

He wouldn’t look your way, but the blush staining his cheeks was obvious. With his shoulder, he gave you a light push before speeding up. “Shut up.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You let out a small laugh, picking up your pace to match his. If only you were blessed with legs as long as his. “I got you to loosen up a little.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. You let him speak to the receptionist on the floor as you lingered by the side, walking back and forth with your hands in your pockets. He returned to your side a few minutes later, and somehow the anxiety was now practically radiating off of him. 

“So, have you always come here alone?” you decided to speak to get his nerves down.

“My parents used to come with me,” Jimin answered. “Then they got busy and… well, I didn’t feel like their presence was helping anyway.”

You raised a brow. “And mine does?” 

He pursed his lips together, finally looking at you. You noticed then that he wasn’t much taller than you. Sure, you usually wore boots with platform heels, but out of all the boys, he might’ve been closest in height to you. “I’m not sure yet. I just know that when I ran into you last time… it didn’t feel so horrible to be here.”

“Park Jimin?” A nurse with a clipboard was looking around the waiting area.

Jimin released a breath before stepping forward. “That’s me.”

She nodded at him. “The doctor will see you now.”

As soon as she left, you noticed that Jimin was hesitating to follow her. You came forward to stand beside him, and touched his arm lightly. It seemed to bring him out of some kind of trance. When his gaze found yours, you tried for something like an encouraging smile. “I’ll wait out here.”

Finally, he managed to nod, slowly walking in the direction the nurse had gone in.

While you waited, you found yourself roaming the floor in your boredom. No one paid you any attention, so you didn’t think it was a problem. As you were walking, eyes moving with the patterns on the floors, there was something like an itch in the back of your mind. Like something in your memory being tugged forward. 

That was when the floor, the walls, the rooms and posters you passed, all became a familiar sight. Too familiar for someone who tried to avoid the hospital in general. You swore you could even hear someone saying your name. Until you realized that someone was actually saying your name now.

There was a woman in a white coat and a long black ponytail offering you a friendly smile. “Y/N. I thought I recognized you.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts from inside your head to acknowledge her appearance. “Dr. Kim.”

“It’s been quite a while.” Her brow furrowed. “While it is good to see you, I hoped you didn’t need to come back here.”

“I’m not here for me,” you said quickly. “I’m here for a friend. As moral support.”

“Of course.” As she stepped closer, her voice lowered a little. "Can I ask though… how are you doing? The migraines haven’t come back? If your prescription’s out, I can get you—“

“No, it’s fine,” you interrupted, hoping she understood that you didn’t want to talk about that. “I’m—I’m fine for now.”

She looked at you before sighing sympathetically. “I know you refused to see the psychologist I recommended, but I do hope you’ve been talking to someone.”

With a careless shrug, you said, “My guidance counsellor is trying, for sure.”

The way she was looking at you made it seem like she was debating whether or not to continue. “After the night they brought you in, when I actually had the chance to speak with you…” Her mouth turned into a contemplative frown. “I could just tell there was something more. I’d hoped therapy would help.”

Now, it was your turn to frown. The discomfort was like an itch on your skin, but you tried to ignore it, forcing a confused smile instead. “Help with what? I’m fine, Dr. Kim. It was just a little scratch.”

“Some wounds run deeper than you think,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on yours until she tore them away, and her face regained some lightheartedness. “Have you visited that boy recently?”

At first, the abrupt change in topic took you aback. Then you shot her a puzzled look. “Boy?”

“I know you didn’t want anyone to know it was you leaving flowers in his room, but his family really appreciated it—“

“Y/N.” Jimin reemerged by your side, his gaze then landing on the older woman he too recognized. “Dr. Kim. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

Dr Kim smiled at him. “I presume that you’re the friend who needed moral support.”

He laughed, only with a tinge of uneasiness as his hand moved to the back of his neck. “That would be correct.”

“Well, I’m glad.” She looked from him to you, eyes fixating on yours with something you didn’t fully understand, or didn’t fully want to understand. “I hope you can do the same for each other.”

Jimin waited until she was out of sight before turning to you. “What did she mean by that? How do you know her?”

“She was my old family doctor,” you lied. “How did it go?”

“Oh,” he said, as though remembering why he was even there. "Better than I thought it would. It was just a checkup.”

You started to nod and then your eyes caught a glimpse of the paper he was trying to tuck into his pocket. The kind of paper you were quite used to seeing yourself. “You got a prescription. Jimin… you’re not—“

“It’s nothing serious, Y/N,” he said, lips tugging into a little smile. “Just something for my throat.”

He did that a lot, you realized. Answering with a charming smile to distract the person from the actual answer. You wouldn’t press on, even though you wanted to. A part of your mind was still stuck on some of Dr Kim’s words.

“Come on,” Jimin said, tugging your arm forward. “They’re still serving bagels.”

When you reached home, the lights were on and your mother was sitting on the sofa in the living room. And you would’ve been at least a little surprised, but you were a little distracted.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, getting to her feet. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“My phone was dying,” you replied distantly as you removed your shoes and jacket. “I didn’t see.”

She released a sigh. “Look, you can be mad all you want, but at least text me where you are or that you’re okay.”

You finally stopped and glanced at her briefly. “I was at the hospital.”

Suddenly, your mother’s voice dropped. You couldn’t read her face, but she swallowed almost nervously. “Oh. Is everything okay?”

“A friend didn’t want to go alone.”

Her eyes widened. “Your prescription. I completely forgot.”

“It’s fine. I got it already.”

She stood there like she still wanted to say something else, but wasn’t sure how. “But is everything okay… with you?”

“I saw Dr. Kim,” you decided to say. Maybe because you wanted to make sense of what she’d said, and because there was a chance, your mother might know something. She’d been there that night in the ER with you. “She said something, and it was kind of strange…” You shook your head. “You know what, it’s probably nothing.”

You turned to leave when your mother spoke again. “I know that I haven’t talked about the night they brought you there.” You opened your mouth to tell her you didn’t want this conversation again, but she raised her hand to stop you. “It’s not that I don’t care, I just—I thought it was better that way for you. I wanted you to move on with your life.”

For the longest time, that was what you wanted too. And for a longer time, you’d really just wanted to hear from her. You tried for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m starting to think that you can’t really move forward without looking back first. I’m tired. I think I’ll head to bed now.”

“Y/N.” You turned halfway, waiting for what else your mother had to say. She hesitated, unfolding her arms from her chest, and finally met your gaze. “I didn’t mean what I said the other day.”

You found that your voice wasn’t working in that moment. And maybe that was because you didn’t know what to say to her. So, you glanced at her another time before heading to your room.

The last thing you wanted that night was to leave the apartment to find yourself at a park near the Academy. What you wanted was a nice bath, to watch an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, maybe even a bowl of ramen. But the universe didn’t want those things for you, because as soon as you were getting ready for bed, your phone lit up with a text. And normally, you would’ve just ignored it, but you knew it would stay in the back of your mind like an itch you couldn’t get rid of.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too late that buses had stopped running, and that your mother had already retired to her room. You found yourself at the park about a half hour later, and a familiar figure by the swings.

“If you were anyone else, I would think you brought me out here to murder me.”

Yoongi turned his head at your voice. Although, it wasn’t too chilly that night, he was wearing a wool beanie. “Why do you assume I didn’t?”

You gave a small hum. “You don’t give off murderer vibes. You’re more… gothic, underground rapper.”

His hands were in the pockets of his jacket, expression maybe just slightly amused though the streetlights weren’t bright enough to be sure. “How long did you take to come up with that?”

You might’ve retorted if it was another time, but it was late and a part of you didn’t want to agree to his message, asking you if you meet, but another part did want to despite any better judgement you might’ve had. “I don’t have a lot time before my mother notices I’m not in my room. And if you don’t kill me now, she most definitely will.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well,” you said with a shrug. “You can’t always be a princess.”

He paused for a second. “I was being an ass earlier.”

Good, you thought. He caught on to your jab at him. “When? I didn’t notice.”

There was a noise of disbelief as his hands fell at his side. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Wait,” you found yourself saying. Maybe it wasn’t so tactful to respond with sarcasm when someone was trying to be serious. At least, not all the time. “You wanted to apologize, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Who said anything about apologizing?”

You raised a brow. “So, you dragged me all the way out here this late at night because you didn’t want to apologize?”

He gave a half frustrated sigh. “I wasn’t trying to sound like a jerk. Sometimes I’m thinking about something else and it just… happens without me even realizing it.”

You started to nod in understanding. “You project.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You project your feelings on to other people. Even when they’re not who the feelings are directed at.” You shrugged at his surprised expression. “That’s what you were doing earlier, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t mad at any of you,” he said finally, sighing to himself. He brushed some of the hair out his eyes. “There’s just—other things I’m dealing with right now.”

You wanted to feel for him, and deep down, you probably did. But you didn’t want to let people off for being cruel just because they thought they were allowed to. You didn’t want to do that anymore. “That’s not an excuse to be mean.”

“I know.” At least, he had the decency to sound like he meant it. He didn’t meet your eyes as he went on, instead glancing at his feet. “Sorry about what I said to you.”

Suddenly, Yoongi wasn’t the only one who felt awkward with apologies. You forced something in between a scoff and a laugh. “Please, it’s not like you hurt my feelings or something.”

“I didn’t think so. But you probably wanted to hear it, didn’t you?” He narrowed his eyes, smirking a little as he saw your expression. “Don’t even deny it.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. “Yes, Yoongi. Thank you for stroking my ego with a half decent apology.”

His expression actually became slightly incredulous and offended. “Half decent? I had to ask Namjoon how to do it.”

Raising your eyebrows partly from surprise and partly because that was the first time you’d heard of anyone asking for instructions on how to apologize, you said, “So, you’ve already practiced this before, possibly more than once, and yet you’re still this unrehearsed?” 

“Okay, fuck off,” he scoffed. When you started to laugh, you were sure he was actually going to punch you. “I’m not good at talking to people. Sue me.”

“Well, I can’t for that,” you said with a shrug, the laughs gone but a smile still lingering. You grabbed on to one of the swings, settling into it. “It would be too hypocritical.”

“What, you?” Yoongi said with skepticism. He followed your actions, taking the empty swing beside you. “Please, you're Sky’s favourite girl. You don’t even have to try, and people will fall at your feet.”

It was funny how easily moods could go from amused to sour. “Everyone keeps saying that,” you said under your breath.

“What?”

“It’s not like that.” Shaking your head, you tucked some loose hairs from your ponytail behind your ears. “Not anymore, at least. Everyone keeps imagining this past version of me, but present me is someone else, and I—I’m so confused which one I am or I’m supposed to be.”

It had to be something in the air, you told yourself, that was making you open up this. It had to be, because you didn’t randomly just burst out with your thoughts. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d already talked to Yoongi about serious things once. Because he seemed like someone who wouldn’t make fun of you or be condescending. He seemed like someone who could try and relate.

“Well, which one do you like more?” he asked after a second.

At first, the question took you by surprise, because no one had ever asked you anything like it. But you knew the answer without having to think. “Neither.”

“Why?”

Because they’re either fake or distorted beyond recognition. “I don’t know.”

The swing continued to move without you controlling it, and could feel his hooded gaze on you, both calculating and curious. “Why were you in the middle of the highway?”

“What?”

“The night we all met at the river. What were you doing?”

“I don’t have a death wish,” you said darkly as soon as you sensed the undertones in his voice. The same undertones everyone at Sky, including people who’d been your friends, had shown to you the previous year.

Yoongi didn’t argue with you. His swing wasn’t moving anymore, so he sat there patiently, hands still folded in his pockets. “Then what were you doing? And don’t say you don’t know.”

“I was thinking,” you answered finally.

His mouth quirked up slightly. “Only for you would something so normal actually become dangerous.”

The glance you cast at him was part affronted. “What does that mean?”

With a sigh, he shook his head. “It means don’t hate yourself because you think everyone around you does.”

You glanced at him a little surprised. “How straightforward.” 

But it wasn’t quite exactly that. It wasn’t that you hated yourself in a pitying way, or that made you want sympathy from other people. It just felt like there was something like poison rooted in the back of your mind, the tiniest drop that was touching every other part of you. At least then you could tell yourself that there was a reason for everything bad that had come your way, even if it meant it was your own fault.  

“But true. Not everyone hates you, Y/N.”

In the back of your mind, you realized it was one of the rare times he actually said your name. “You don’t?”

“I apologized to you, didn’t I?” he said as though it answered the question.

“But you never did? Not even before?”

He shrugged, as though the answer wasn’t as important to him as it was to you. “I didn’t know you enough to hate you. And neither does anyone else.”

You didn’t say anything at first, letting the creaking of the swings’ chains fill the empty space instead. “I thought you said you didn’t care. About any of this.”

He sighed, like you were a child who had too many questions that he didn’t want to deal with. “Back to this, are we?”

As you turned your head to look at him, you narrowed your eyes a little. “You know, you’re really good at diverting, too.”

While throwing a grin at you, he said, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

But you knew that him trying to divert from the topic wasn’t because it was a bore to him. You’d spent a lot of time pretending to care about things yourself. Somehow, you could tell the difference even now. “You do care,” you said again. “At least a little. Or you wouldn’t have been there at the river with the rest of us.” You wouldn’t have pushed me out of the way of that car.

“Believe what you want, princess,” Yoongi said with another eye roll. 

This time, you chose to ignore the nickname, and instead, you grinned at him cheekily, pushing your swing further. “You know what? I’m going to get you to admit it.”

He scoffed lightheartedly, in a way that told you this was amusing to him, and looked at you still swinging. “Don’t hurt yourself trying.”

“Some day,” you emphasized. “You’re going to admit that you care. That Min Yoongi has a heart after all, and it’s so big and capable of— wait, where are you going?"

“To find somewhere this conversation won’t follow me.”

As he got up from the swing and started walking out of the sand box, you were watching him only with the faintest incredulous expression. “You’re hilarious.”

chapter vi // chapter viii (coming soon)

[joyfulholland]

Where Stories Start

a/n: bookshop/coffeshop au! this idea came to me months ago and it has been a long process trying to get it into something actually readable, so i would love to hear people’s thoughts on it, and if people would like any more as i could definitely write a sequel! any comments/ideas/requests are more than welcome in my inbox!

warnings: none

word count: 3000

The first time you see him, you spill your drink all down your shirt.

Admittedly, it wasn’t his fault. You’d been trying to pick up the stack of books you had to take back to the shelves and had unsuccessfully balanced your coffee cup on the top. In a haste to save the books you’d thrown them back down, only for the end result to be your previously white shirt to have a large brown patch all down the front. A handful of napkins had suddenly been held out in front of you, and as you’d lifted your eyes to thank your helper, you’d been met with a much warmer shade of brown than the one now dominating your shirt.

“It’s the worst when that happens.” The handsome stranger smiled, before turning his head to nod at Theo, your co-worker manning the coffee bar that day. “See you later.”

He offered you another smile before turning to leave, a navy rucksack draped over one of his shoulders. You watched him walk towards the door for a second, before Theo’s voice brought your attention away.

“I’ve got a spare hoodie in my bag if you want it?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, thoughts still lingering on the man who’d just walked out. “Yeah, thanks Theo.”

*

You’d first gotten a job at Where Stories Start when you were a student, desperately in need of money to help you out whilst you studied. Stumbling in had been an accident, hoping to find reprieve from the rain by wasting an hour or two browsing the shelves. Then you noticed the coffee bar tucked away in the corner of the shop, surrounded by mismatched tables and chairs. By the time you’d explored both of the two floors, discovered the entire wall by the children’s section painted with a character for every letter of the alphabet, seen the “Book Swap” section near the coffee bar where people could exchange their old battered copies for others to enjoy whilst they drank, and had spent at least twenty minutes writing a review of ‘Who Will Love Polly Odlum’ for the “Book of the Month” display, you’d completely fallen in love with the place. It was as if it were fate when you noticed the help wanted sign on the pay desk, and you had immediately asked the woman behind it for an application. She’d introduced herself as Bryony, the owner, and had hired you with only a five-minute conversation as your interview. A couple of years later, when you were graduating, she’d promoted you to manager, claiming that whilst being a starving artist was admirable, until you’d achieved your dream of being an author, she wanted you to have a steady income from somewhere. She was your biggest supporter, letting you write from the desk when it was quiet and assuring you that taking any freelance writing jobs you could find wasn’t at all like selling out your dream, just a way of getting your writing out there. The bookshop had become your second home, and you always secretly thought that there was a little bit of magic to the place.

Maybe that’s what brought him into the shop so often too.

*

The second time you encountered the handsome stranger, it was a much quieter affair.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and the shop was reasonably quiet. You’d just settled in behind the desk to check through any online orders when the bell on the door chimed to signal someone entering. You glanced up to smile at whoever it was and were taken aback when it was the warm brown eyes from the week before.

“Hiya.” He grinned, closing the door behind him before crossing the space to lean on the desk in front of you. “No accidents yet today?”

“No, but there’s still time I suppose.” You chuckle, noticing a tattered copy of ‘Life of Pi’ in his hand. “Here to swap a book?”

“Yeah, I grabbed this last week and thought since I’ve got some time, I’d come have a tea and get a new one.” He nodded, waving the book up. “I only came in by chance to grab a present for my Mum, but the place is so great I felt I had to come back.”

“I know what you mean. I only came in to escape the rain and I’m still here three years later.”

“I think there are worse places to get stranded.” He joked, waving his book again. You laughed at his joke as he grinned, lifting his bag on his shoulder a little higher. “Well I won’t distract you from your work anymore. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See you.” You nod, smiling before turning back to the desktop monitor. You watch him walk a few steps before he pauses, and you lift your head to see him turning to face you.

“I’m Tom, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Tom.” You smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

*

Tom became a regular visitor after that week.

Every Thursday at around four o clock, he would come in, pause at the desk to chat with you, usually about whichever book he’d read that week, before heading over to the coffee bar to drink tea and start a new story. Sometimes you would join him; if the shop was particularly quiet and you had some writing to do, it was easy to slip into the chair opposite him and sit in a comfortable silence, occasionally sharing comments about what Tom was reading. Sometimes you would simply send him a wave as he entered; on the days were the shop was busy and you were constantly on the phone or helping a customer, you wouldn’t have chance to even say hello until he’d already packed away his things and was heading for the door. It became a nice routine, knowing that on a Thursday you’d see Tom, in whatever form your interaction took that week.

The only problem was that with each passing week, your attraction to him grew stronger.

You’d always found him good-looking, from the moment your eyes had met as he’d handed you the napkins. But as you spent more time together, you couldn’t help but find him more appealing as you discovered how his brain worked. Each time he finished a book you desperately wanted to know his opinions, whether they aligned with yours or not, simply so you could hear him speak. It was the passion in his voice as he spoke of his annoyance at how some characters acted, or how he was relived with the way a book had ended. You loved when he made connections between stories and his own life, especially when he related them to some anecdotes about himself, his friends and family.

It was these anecdotes that began the shift in your conversations to more personal matters. The stories he told would always prompt you to ask questions about the people who featured in them. You learnt about his three brothers, his best friend Harrison, his dog Tessa. Tom told you about his job working in what he described as “the most boring office in the world”, and how he was jealous of the people who got to follow their passion instead of just work to pay the bills. He, in turn, would question you on your family, your friends, your career ambitions. He’d constantly pester to read your writing, protesting when you told him it wasn’t ready yet.

“You’re such a cliché you know.” He chuckled one day, a few minutes after you’d settled down in the chair opposite him, coffee in one hand and laptop in the other.

“What?” Your eyes met his as you opened your laptop, raising your eyebrows as he smirked.

“You’re a writer who works in a book shop.”

“I’m an aspiring writer who manages a book shop.” You grin back at him, scrunching up one of the old Post-It notes stuck next to your mousepad and throwing it at him. “Very different.”

“Still a cliché.” He continued to smile as he diverted his eyes back to his book. You rolled your eyes as your own attention went back to your laptop, taking his cue to mean the conversation break was over.

The two of you were still smiling to yourselves an hour later when you packed up to help close the shop.

*

A week before Christmas, he burst through the door on a late Saturday afternoon, his hair dishevelled, his scarf extremely lopsided and a panicked look across his face. His eyes searched the shop until he found you re-stocking the shelves, walking towards you as a tall blonde man, looking much calmer followed casually, hands in his pockets as he smirked at his friend’s behaviour.

“Emergency.” Tom stated, skidding to a stop in front of you. The man with him chuckled and Tom shot a glare in his direction. “This is not a time to laugh Haz.”

“You should have been an actor, mate, always overdramatic.” He laughed, before extending a hand to you. “Harrison. You’re Y/N I presume?”

“Great to meet you.” You nod as you take his outstretched hand. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.”

“Oi,” Tom interrupted, his eyebrows furrowed. “I really am having an emergency here.”

“Sorry.” You turned your attention back to Tom, attempting to pull your face into a serious expression but failing. “How can I help?”

“It’s the office Secret Santa tonight and I forgot to get anything.” His words tipped you over the edge and you couldn’t help but laugh, prompting Harrison to join in. “This is serious, stop laughing. Steve will have my head if I turn up to the dinner later without one.”

“Okay, sorry.” You giggled, placing down the stack of books you’d still been holding down. “Who do you have to buy a present for and is there a price limit?”

“Edie, the receptionist. Limit is fifteen quid.”

“How old is she?”

“About fifty. She likes Agatha Christie I think, she’s always banging on about how it’s a shame that there’s no more Poirot.”

“Perfect.” You nod, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the crime and mystery section. It only takes you a couple of seconds to locate the orange cover you were searching for. “This is by Sophie Hannah. She’s writing a whole new set of Poirot stories in Christie’s style. And it’s five pounds under your budget, which means you can go to Tesco around the corner and buy a gift bag and some chocolates to make up the rest.”

“You’re a life saver.” A grin spread across Tom’s whole face, and before you could register what was happening, he leant forward and brushed a hasty kiss across your cheek. “Best pay for this and go, Haz and I are meeting the boys for a quick one before I go.”

He turned and walked towards the check out before you could reply, joining the short line around the corner to pay. After a few seconds, you shook your head before turning to return to where you’d been stacking, when you noticed Harrison was still there.

“Thanks for saving the day.” He smirked, nodding before starting after Tom. “It really great to meet you, he hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks.”

*

The week the shop was closed for Christmas, you couldn’t help but miss Tom, despite the fact you’d only see him for an hour or two a week. When Thursday afternoon rolled around, you berated yourself for feeling a way about a man who’s friendship only existed within a small space and time, until a Facebook notification lip up your screen, displaying that you had a friend request from Tom Holland. You grinned to yourself as you accepted, a message coming through seconds later.

So I read your piece online about the Christmas placebo affect.

So you not only facebook stalked me, you also stalked my work

Well I kept asking to see it and you kept saying no

And it isn’t facebook stalking when we’re already friends

It’s completely normal for me to have found you on here and requested your friendship

So we’re friends now?

Of course we’re friends I showed you seven pictures of my dog last week I don’t just do that with anyone

Calm down stalker And you know I appreciated the pictures of Tessa

You know, I started this conversation with every intention of telling you my deepest thoughts and feelings about your piece but now I’m not going to

Ok fine with me

Great

Great

Good

Tom?

Yeah?

What did you think?

I think you’ve been holding out on me

*

One Monday afternoon at the end of January, you bumped into each other in a pub, nowhere near the book shop, and you both froze like deer caught in headlights. It was odd, to see him in a situation so alien to what you were used to. Your friendship had only recently shifted to one that existed outside of the book shop, but even that was only via Facebook. His shirt was slightly smarter than his usual Thursday afternoon clothes, and the red tint to his cheeks alongside the empty pint glass in his hand clued you into the fact that he probably wasn’t drinking tea. You stood frozen as you realised he too had been assessing your appearance, far less professional than your usual work attire, before your eyes met and you grinned at each other.

“Of all the gin joints.” He joked, taking a step towards you and wrapping his arms around you in a brief but tight hug. You were both still grinning as he stepped back. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” You nodded, noticing the group he’d left behind. You recognised the faces of two of his brothers from photographs you’d seen, before Harrison caught your eye. The blonde smiled and waved at you across the room, before saying something to the group, whose eyes all turned to you in curiosity.

Tom bought your drink and offered for you to join them, even inviting your friends to come too. You declined, explaining it was someone’s birthday, before reaching out to give him another hug goodbye.

“See you Thursday.” He winked before turning back to join his group.

You returned to your own friends still grinning, rolling your eyes as they all started asking the same question; who was the handsome man at the bar?”

“That,” you grinned, eyes drifting over to where Tom now sat laughing with his friends again. “Was the Thursday Tom.”

*

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Tom was smirking as he came to lean his forearms on the desk, his rucksack already slung over his shoulder as he’d been in for over an hour.

“About?” You locked the shop desktop monitor before turning in your chair to fully face him.

“I’ve just seen your review of ‘Romeo and Juliet’.”

“Ahh.”

With it being the “month of love”, as Bryony had kept reminding you, you’d succumbed to peer pressure and made ‘Romeo and Juliet’ the Book of the Month. As shop manager, you were obligated to write a review for the display before the customers began to add their own. Normally, you were thrilled to do it, but this month you’d been very reluctant.

“You barely wrote anything.” Tom continued, smirk still in place. “Usually yours is the longest on there, even I could write more than your review.”

“I’m just not a fan.” You shrug, watching Tom’s face as he looked at you in disbelief.

“’Romeo and Juliet’ is the best love story of all time!” He exclaimed.

“Sorry I think you mispronounced ‘Pride and Prejudice’.” Your own smile only widens as he shakes his head at you.

“So you’re saying that millions of people are wrong.”

“It’s not even Shakespeare’s best work, ‘Hamlet’ is clearly the better play.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re an author, and you work in a book shop called Where Stories Start! ‘Romeo and Juliet’ is where most love stories start.”

“Exactly. That makes me more qualified than anyone.”

“Unbelievable.” Tom was grinning as he shook his head again. “Can I ask you to explain one more thing?”

“Go for it.”

“Would you say that our story started when you spilt your coffee down your shirt, or does it not start until I ask you to dinner on Saturday night?”

He’s still smirking as your smile turns into a look of shock, your brain unable to string a sentence together as you stare at him.

“I…well…it…did you just ask me out?” You splutter, finally regaining the ability to speak.

“Well, not technically.” His smile turned softer as he stood a little straighter. “Was trying to gage your reaction before I went for it. Have been, actually, since I first met you, but thought it would be strange to do when you were in the middle of trying to dry yourself.”

“Very considerate.” You nod, unable to stop the smile taking over your face. “Well, in my expert opinion. I would say that any moments leading up to you asking me out could be counted as a prelude, rather than where our story started.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Tom nodded, shifting his bag a little higher on his shoulder before grinning at you. “So, what do you say. Saturday night. Will you go to dinner with me?”

“I’d love to.” You nod, the grin taking over your own face. “And for the record, I’d have said yes if you’d asked me then too.”

Because maybe your story had started back when an accident had led to a stranger handing you a bunch of napkins, or maybe it properly yet to start. Or maybe, it had started before, when two individuals had stumbled into a random shop in two separate spontaneous moments. You supposed you couldn’t really be sure.

But you did know that you were still only at the beginning.

[ari-arrivederci]

An s/o shopping at the mall (and being a member of la Squadra themselves) running into each prospective member as the s/o is shopping for something embarrassing. thank you!! <3

Sorry about the wait, please enjoy

【Risotto】

He’s not fond of going to the mall. It’s too open, and it’s swarming with people. He tries to keep his trips short and sweet, going in to buy what he needs, and then get out. No loitering around. He’s fortunate that he rarely - if ever, bumps into anyone from the Mafia, but anyone that sees him knows better than the run their mouth. You, are rather different in that regard.

He notices you sheepishly leaving a store, one he never paid much attention to, “(Y/N)? I thought you were staying home today?”, Risotto made no sound as he approached, the shock causing you to almost scream in terror, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have been - well, technically speaking, you were.

His eyes wander over the mysterious bag, as you clutch it tightly. He so desperately wants to take a look, but seeing as you’re flustered, he lets it slide, despite being able to put two-and-two together by simply looking at the store you just left.

【Ghiaccio】

Another one that despises the mall, but happens to be way more vocal about it. Passing strangers that get in his way, or children causing a scene are the ones most at risk of suffering from his wrath. Even the security guards don’t bother trying to escort him out of the mall anymore - it’s simply not worth it.

Ghiaccio stomps about the mall, complaining loudly to himself about how stupid some of the slogans are, especially ones that include a pun of sorts. He almost doesn’t notice you at first, at least until you try to swiftly leave his field of vision. Alas, Ghiaccio is faster than you.

“(Y/N), why are you here?!”, he seems the most flustered, despite him calling you out, “I’m just shopping,” you smile, in hopes that flimsy excuse works. It does not, and before you can even protest, he practically rips the bag out of your hand to look inside; a choice he regrets not more than a second later.

【Melone】

He usually does all his shopping online - preferring convince over quality. On the rare occasion he ventures out to the mall, he spends most of his time sat idly in the food court, simply watching people go by.

During this, he happens to see your familiar face, and calls out to you. Melone certainly wasn’t expecting the deer in the headlights look he got as a response from his dear, but when he happened to see your bag, he understood everything.

Melone sits there with a sinister smirk as you race off home. It won’t be too long before Melone accompanies you.

【Pesci】

He doesn’t like going the mall alone. He’s fine if it’s with you or Prosciutto, but being alone just makes him anxious, and worry that people are watching his every move as he goes about the mall trying to get what he needs as quickly as he can.

He spots you leaving a shoot hat he usually pays no mind to. He still doesn’t take much interest in it as he scurries over you, almost frightening the life out of you as you try to hide your bag from him.

He’ll ask what you bought, and your answer of, “I’ll show you when we get home”, is more than enough to satisfy his curiosity. He’s just happy to not have to shop alone.

【Prosciutto】

He goes the mall quite frequently, mainly to browse, while he buys what he needs, but there’s a small café there he’s fond of. He usually sits for a while to enjoy a cup of coffee before he heads off.

He keeps a watchful eye for any danger, but what he doesn’t expect to see is you. He remembers you very clearly saying you were spending your day off at home, and finishes his coffee quickly so he can interrogate you.

You’re just as shocked to see him, especially when he grabs your hand in his own, trying to go for the bag you’re so desperate to keep out of his grasp. He’s curious now, but if you wish to keep it hidden, he’ll wait until you’re home.

【Illuso】

He spends a fair amount of time at the mall, mainly to people watch, but he’s sometimes placed there instead of the airport when it comes to work - not that he minds either way.

He had a feeling he’d find you here today, feeling incredibly smug when he’s proven right, seeing you exit a shop with an incredibly interesting bag.

He observes you for a moment, before he decides to approach, mainly with the intention to tease you, but he’s still rather happy he ran into you here. It beats having to wait until you’re both back home.

【Formaggio】

Doesn’t particularly like the mall, but he doesn’t hate it either. It’s convenient for sure, but it’s always crowded and loud. Still, he’s really only there for the pet shop, picking up his usual cat food along with some new toys.

He didn’t even notice you until the nearly knocked you over, stopping his apology when he got a look at you, “(Y/N)? What are you doing here? I said I’d get the cat food,” he smiles, until he notices your bag.

He’s the curious type, and can’t resist trying to look inside, or take the bag away from you, just to tease you a little, he at least tries to be subtle by offering to carry it.

[illfoandillfie]

DMs

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Summery: You run a nsfw snapchat account. Ben's horny.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), partially written as chat text, video chat sex, masturbation, fingering, sex toys, nipple play, voyeurism I guess, fuckboy ben

Words: 3774

A/N: Inspired by something El posted. I love Ben but he’s got them fuckboy/lad vibes and im positive he’d get down on some sc porn

Taglist:  @laedymoon​  @dtfrogertaylor​   @ezmina98​  @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​  @hannafuckingsucks​  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​

@veriloquently​

Your phone buzzed, the familiar noise distracting you from your book. Considering you’d just posted a new photo, partially hidden by emojis, to Instagram and updated your snapchat story with the uncensored version, it was hardly surprising you were getting messages.

YourNewDaddy: Mmm baby let me pound you

You clicked through to his profile. Absolutely nothing. The profile picture was some abs that could belong to anyone. No recent snaps, nothing. For a few seconds you considered replying with your payment details but decided against it. He wasn’t worth your time.  

The whole NSFW account thing had started a while ago on Tumblr and then Instagram. A way to kill time and get some attention that you weren’t receiving in the real world. But then the porn ban had happened which severely limited what you could post, so you’d mostly moved to Snapchat, using everything else to advertise. A few months after the move you started getting guys offering to pay you to do specific things. One had wanted an audio recording of you calling him Daddy and begging for his cock with a few moans thrown in. Another had wanted a video of you and a dildo, though he’d had to pay more. Since then you’d used your accounts to pick up a bit of extra cash here and there. Nowhere near enough to live off of, but it came in handy.

You clicked back out of the app, put down your phone and went back to your book, hoping someone entertaining would at least comment on the photo soon. Barely half a page later another ding pulled you away. This time Instagram.  

Benhardy: Just came over you

Quick and to the point. Fuckboy energy. You clicked onto his profile half expecting another faceless timewaster. No description or links to other sites but he had a profile picture. And some fifty odd photos. Not many posts considering his million followers but at least you knew he was a real person. You scrolled through his feed trying to put gather what info you could before you responded. Lots of photos of himself sometimes with friends. A few that were clearly modelling jobs or, more likely considering the movie trailers and saved story called Oscars 2019, promotional photoshoots for magazines. And he was a proud dog dad. Definitely attractive. You wondered briefly why someone so handsome was getting off to half dressed girls on Instagram but put it out of your mind as you opened his conversation up again. Who cared why as long as he was talking to you? After all, he was hot and willingly giving you attention. Plus, if he was an actor or whatever he probably wouldn’t mind paying for something special, once you’d given him a taste. The only question left was how to approach the conversation.  

You: Really? That’s so flattering!

You: Kind of wish you’d cum over me for real tho, bit bored

Benhardy: dirty girl

Benhardy: could probably think of some way to keep you busy

Benhardy: you’re fit

You: haha aww thank you! I post more often on snap if you wanna follow. don’t have to hide behind swimwear and emojis there. easier to chat too, unless you prefer kik or something

He didn’t reply. You frowned at your phone wondering if you’d shown your hand too soon. Perhaps you should have kept up the flattered damsel act a little longer, waited before mentioning Snapchat. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a chat, just genuinely wanted to compliment you, even if it was in a gross slightly derogatory way. Or maybe he just got cold feet. You sighed as you swiped back to check what other people had been sending you. A few more ignorable accounts, a couple messages you didn’t like enough to respond to straight away. And then another Snapchat notification.  

Ben Jones: had to create an account but I’m here

You: oh! you’ve changed your name

Ben Jones: Hardy’s the stage name lol

You: hmmm hardy… little bit of a pornstar name

You: or could be if you changed the ben part.

Ben Jones: that’s my backup plan in case actual acting doesn’t work out lol

Ben Jones: not too out of place right now tho

You: haha that because of me?

Ben Jones: maybe. loved the photos in your story you’ve got great tits

Ben Jones: kinda wanna see you pinch and pull on them

And so it began. You leaned forward to pull your shirt off and then settled back against the pillows, running your fingers around your nipple until it was hard. Angling the camera towards your chest you pinched your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them. The camera clicked as you took a photo and then clicked again as you tugged your nipple away from your body, hissing a little at the pain.

You: Like this?

Ben Jones: perfect

Ben Jones: really are lovely tits.

You: surprisingly don’t hear that much irl so ty

Ben Jones: u don’t? criminal

You: lmao yeah but that’s what I have you for

Ben Jones: happy to help

Ben Jones: What are you wearing?

You: Just a pair of knickers now

Ben Jones: sexy

Ben Jones: can I see?

You: just the knickers or the whole look?

Ben Jones: whole look first

Ben Jones: then just the knickers so I can see the wet spot you’re making

You wriggled against the pillows, shuffling further down the bed. Long ago you’d learnt which angles were the easiest to take photos in and which were the best to show off your body. A full body shot was easiest when you leaned your phone up against a stack of books or something at the foot of the bed and used the timer on the camera to get a few shots of you kneeling. It left your hands fee to squeeze your tits if that seemed appropriate or slip into your underwear, or to put behind your back in a pose that seemed innocent but actually pushed your hips and chest forward. For Ben though you felt something that appeared a little more casual would be appropriate. You lay back, head raised slightly on your pillows, feel flat against the mattress so your knees were in the air and pressed together. Carefully you positioned the camera, wrist twisted a little to get the angle just right. You brought your free hand up to your breasts, pulling your nipple again since Ben seemed to like it, and snapped a photo. The shot of your underwear was easier, legs spread, pushing your hips up slightly to get a clear shot of the wet patch that had been slowly growing since the start of the conversation, though a little added saliva to make it more obvious didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to tell.  

Ben Jones: hot

Ben Jones: like got me so hard again hot

You: does that mean I get a picture in return?

Ben Jones: Only if you take your knickers off for me

Ben Jones: wouldn’t be fair otherwise since im not wearing underwear😉  

You took your time sending him a new photo and got one back almost straight away. You would have scoffed at his eagerness to show himself off but, with a body like his you couldn’t really blame him. You zoomed into the photo, trailing your eyes over every inch of it. Messy blonde hair, though whether it was intentionally messy or just like that from him grabbing it while he jerked off over your photo you weren’t sure. Gorgeous eyes, heavy lidded and a little fucked out. One arm behind his head as he lay on his bed. It looked carefree and spontaneous, like someone else had taken the photo at the very moment he looked at the camera, but it showed off the muscles in his arms too well to be coincidence. And speaking of muscles. The boy was a fucking Adonis. You were instantly struck by the desire to drag your nails down his chest and leave a trail of hickeys and bite marks all the way down to his toned stomach and tight waist. You clenched your thighs together at the thought as you slowly revealed the bottom half of the photo. He had his legs outstretched though one was more bent than the other, knee jutting out to the side. Almost too casual to be casual, especially with the way he had his hand wrapped around his cock, like the photo was taken mid stroke. You couldn’t help linger over that particular part of the photo. It was a lovely hand, big with noticeable veins, exactly the sort that could make you weak in the knees. And the same could be said for the dick it was holding. You wondered briefly where this Ben guy had come from and what you could possibly have done to catch his attention.  

Ben Jones: is that silence because you’re so impressed

The message made you roll your eyes. Hot he might be, but he was still just another desperate fuckboy looking for a naked girl to drool over and a quick orgasm.  

You: well I’m not not impressed

Ben Jones: no need to be shy. just say you’re imagining riding me and I'd understand

You: wasn’t before. Am now.

Ben Jones: what were you picturing before?

You: doggy

Ben Jones: be happy to let you try both and compare.

You: let me film it and watch the tapes back to study your game?

Ben Jones: wait this is dumb.

Your frowned at your phone. For such typical guy, the sort you’d dealt with so many times before, Ben sure was hard to pin down.  

You: what?

Ben Jones: you comfortable doing live chat?

Ohhhh

You: umm sure thing

Ben Jones: you don’t have to

You: i know that. you couldn’t force me to even if you wanted, beauty of doing this online. i just don’t do live very often. or I charge for it.

Ben Jones: that desperate for me?

You: you caught me in a good mood

You let the call ring for a bit, wanting to make sure Ben understood how in control you were and how much more he needed it than you. But eventually you picked up, settling back against your pillows. Ben seemed to be in a similar position, leaning against his headboard, the screen showing you his face and bare shoulders. “Hi,” “Hi,” his voice was deeper than you’d expected, thrown by how soft and, dare you say, feminine his features were, and yet it suited him perfectly. You could only imagine how that voice would sound growling out sexually charged complements, the thought appealing enough to have you pressing your thighs together. There was a moment of silence as you took each other in, not quite sure how to continue now that you’d switched from text.   “So you going to show me how wet you are?” Once again his demeanour had you wanting to roll your eyes though you refrained, “No.” “No?” His confusion was entertaining to say the least. So many of the men who contacted you assumed you were going to be outright submissive and meek, taking whatever photos they demanded and doing everything they told you to with a smile and a yes sir. So proving them wrong, defying them, taking control, that was fun. Almost an aphrodisiac in its own right. Sometimes you’d eventually submit, play the brat and then let them win, and if they were paying it was a different story. But Ben struck you as the kind of guy who could use a little more pushback. Probably used to getting his way, having his pick of the litter. Lord knows had he hit on you in real life you probably would have agreed to whatever he wanted just to feel his hands on you. But here, on your profile, you had the power. Plus, in the back of your mind you suspected that being a little more assertive might just make him more interested in seeing you submit and maybe a little more willing to pay for the pleasure.   “Not yet.” “Bit of a bold move considering I could just go find someone else to look at. There’re these things called porn sites, yeah?” “But they’re so impersonal. Isn’t this more fun?” He paused, eyeing you, and then let out a breath, “You got me there.” “Figured, since the video chat was your idea and all.” “Just got sick of typing one handed.” “Mmhmm, sure.” “So are you going to show me your cunt then?” “Eventually. But what’s the rush?” you stood up, making sure to let the camera dip just a little so Ben got a quick flash of your chest. “How about I’m hard as hell and want to get off?” “You’re not the only one who wants to get off so just hold your horses for a second while I get my toys.” “There are toys now?” You could see Ben’s shoulder move as he started to stroke himself again. “Told you to hold your horses. Stop touching yourself.” Ben’s arm stopped its movement though he seemed a little taken aback by his own obedience. “Good boy,” you watched for Ben’s reaction, not disappointed as he swallowed hard, his cheeks going pinker than they already were. That was interesting. “Yes there are toys, you wanna see?” “Do I get to pick which ones you use?” “Maybe,” “Go on, show me then,” You flipped the camera around as you opened your chest of draws. There wasn’t much in there, a couple different dildos and vibrators, a set of nipple suckers, mostly things you’d bought to fulfil requests guys were paying you for. You picked up the nipple suckers and held them up to the camera. “I assume you’d like to see me in these since you liked watching me play with my nipples.” “Mmhmm, absolutely. Also want to see you with a dildo. You got one with a suction base? Might tell you to ride it the way you’d ride me,” he seemed to be doubling down on the pull for control after you’d seen his reaction to being told what to do, determined to put you in your place or whatever. “Unfortunately, no. But this one will do,” you took hold of a silicon dildo, pulling it from the draw, “Don’t think it's as big as you but it does vibrate and that’s guaranteed to work.” “I’ll allow it, though I think we both know I’d be better.” “I’m going to ignore that,” you said as you turned the camera back towards you and headed back to your bed, settling against the pillows again. You propped the camera up against a pillow so Ben could watch as you placed the suckers over your nipples, whimpering at the sudden taught feeling. You picked the phone back up, giving Ben a closer view of your boobs. “They suit you. And you can ignore it all you like but when you start doing what I say and I let you fuck yourself into your third orgasm I’ll remind you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you where you can meet me in real life and show you exactly how good I am.” “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?”   “In every sense. If I remember correctly you were speechless at the sight.” “You’ve got a bad memory, Benny boy.” Slowly you let your fingers trail down to your pussy. You didn’t believe he was as good as he thought he was – you’d dealt with too many overconfident wankers, both in real life and online, to believe another one – but the game you’d fallen into, the back and forth teasing, not entirely sure who was in control at any one time, was arousing to say the least. It was certainly one of the less predictable conversations you’d had recently.   “If not speechless then certainly wet. Show me your pussy, wanna see you touching yourself.”” “Who said I’m touching myself?” you slipped a finger into your entrance, trying to keep your breathing even.” “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. So show me.” “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Ben gave you a fleeting look, eyebrow raised, before his camera flipped and you were once again looking at his hand wrapped around his cock, red and leaking precum. You turned your camera too, making sure he had a good view. “Add a second finger for me.” You did as he asked, “You been a good boy and not touched? Or do I have to tell you off for misbehaving?” “I didn’t but it wasn’t because of anything you said. Just didn’t want things to finish before I heard you beg me to cum.” He began to stroke himself, keeping in time with the slow pace you’d set as you pumped your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Sure,” you panted, adding a third finger, “so if I told you to stop now,” His hand halted. “Well aren’t you just so obedient,” You removed your fingers from yourself, reaching to grab the dildo, “you wanna see me fuck myself properly? Watch me cum all over this toy, pretend it’s your cock making me moan?”   “God yes,” his voice cracked a little, fingers twitching against himself as he briefly let the cocky, controlling persona fall away. It didn’t last long, “Show me how deep you can take that cock. C’mon, I know what a fucking slut you are, getting off on people watching you.” You didn’t bother arguing, sliding the dildo along your dripping folds before pressing it into yourself with a whine. “Wait, hang on a sec.” The was the sound of shuffling and the screen went black as Ben moved around but, eventually, he flipped the camera again and settled back on the bed. He’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of himself, letting you see every inch of him from his face to his hard, leaking cock, “better?” “Oh much, hang on I’ll do the same," you carefully pulled the dildo from yourself and sat up, leaning your phone against a stack of books on your bedside table and then adjusting your pillows in front of it, “we good?” “Yeah, take the nipple things off though, wanna see your tits properly.” You did as he asked, letting out a soft moan at the sensation. Ben chuckled, “God I can’t wait to hear how loud you moan imaging how hard I’d fuck you.” You slid the dildo back into your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out of yourself as you brought your other hand up to squeeze your breast, “mmm, you look so pretty when you’re all needy Benny.” It wasn’t a lie, between his lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks and soft pout, Ben looked incredible and it only turned you on more, “Want to show me how needy you can get? Want me make you beg?” “Faster. Harder,” he ignored your questions in favour of giving you another order but you were sure you’d heard his voice crack just a little. You sped up, whining with each thrust, Ben’s hand matching your pace as his slid his thumb over the tip and spread the precum over his length. “Fuck your wet, I can hear it. That all because of me?” “Maybe a-a bit. Also just like, fuck, being watched,” “Turn on the vibrator and rub your clit,” Ben’s voice was husky, impossibly deep and rough, “don’t stop until I say.” You moaned as the vibrations started, angling the dildo to rub against your g-spot on every pass.   “There you go, being a good little slut. Gonna cum how I tell you to.” “On-only if you cum how I tell you to.” You almost let the dildo fall from your grasp, so shocked were you by the whine Ben let out, “Like that idea? Want me to tell you what to do? If I told you to stop and watch me would you?” “No,” he said, steadfastly sticking to the game although his hand faltered and his voice had mostly lost the controlling edge he’d had before, all desperate, whiny need. “N-not sure I beli-eve you.” “Please don’t stop. Wanna cum so bad,” “I know y-ou do Benny.” “You close?” “Yes, fuck Ben, so close.” “Cum for me, come on, be a good slut and cum,” “Not. Yet. Play with your balls Benny, wanna see you cum first.” His gasped turned into a strangled cry as he ran his fingers over his testicles before lightly squeezing them “T-turn the vibrator higher,” Neither one of you were in control anymore, too caught up in getting yourselves and each other off, though you were both determinedly looking at the screen, watching each other. Ben’s lip was caught between his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let out some of the prettiest moans you’d ever heard. It only served to push you closer to the edge, your own moans escaping as you bucked your hips rhythmically in time with the dildo moving in and out of your cunt. Ben finished a split second before you did, your eyes glued to the white now painting his stomach as you held the dildo in place, its vibrations making your toes curl.

The was a moment of quiet as you both collected yourselves, the only sounds his panted breaths and your soft whine as you removed the dildo from yourself, and then Ben spoke.   “Fuck that was hot.” “Yup,” “I thought your tits were good enough to wank over but Christ. That’s gonna keep me going for a bit.” You laughed, relaxing as your heart gradually fell back to its normal rhythm, “Well not too long I hope. You’re fun and I’d be happy to chat again sometime.” “Did I see in your bio that you take commissions?” “Yuuup,” “Huh, well, I’ll keep that in mind then.” “I look forward to it,” “Well, I should be off then, gotta clean up,” he gestured to the mess drying on his stomach. “Yeah, me too, maybe have a nap. That really was fun though so next time you’re bored or whatever hit me up. If you’re lucky I’ll let you boss me around. If you’re luckier I’ll do the bossing,” “I’d like to see you try,” “That whine you made says you’d enjoy it quite a lot,” “My whine? What about yours? Needy little brat.” Guess you’ll have to come back and settle this then.” “Guess I will. See you later.”

[thejilyship]

It’s just Coffee

Lily is partnered with James for an Econ project that he seems unwilling to make time for. When he shows up forty minutes late to her flat, she finds out why.

single parent, college, modern, muggle au

ff.net | ao3

Lily Evans to James Potter: You’re late. Again.

James: I know, and I’m very sorry, but it was unavoidable

Lily: Of course it was.  

James: I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Lily: If you’re any later than that, I’m going to lock the door and not let you in.

James: Completely fair! See you in a few

James: Also, I have to bring someone with me, hope that’s alright!

Lily: I s2g, it better not be Sirius

James: it’s not Sirius, he’s on a date and he’s a git and I’m never speaking to him again

James: I’ll be there soon

 Lily put her phone down and frowned. She tapped her pencil against her textbook and looked up at the clock. He’d said that he’d meet with her at six so they could finish this stupid group project that they’d been partnered by their professor to do.

James was not the person that Lily would have chosen to be her partner. Not only was it now six thirty, and he hadn’t even texted to let her know that he was running late, but he’d been late to their last meet up as well. He hadn’t even wanted to meet up the last time. He’d tried to convince her that they could just finish their project after class, even though Lily had another class to get to just thirty minutes after.

But it was fine.

She took a deep breath through her nose and then slowly let it out. This was the last time that they’d have to meet up, and then she could go back to hating this class solely for the damned TA’s unjust disdain for her and the boring source material.

She looked over what she and James had scrapped together so far, and what she’d added for the both of them since she’d been sitting here for almost forty minutes now. It was a short presentation about economic principals. The work was tedious and monotonous, she’d almost offered to just put the entire thing together on her own multiple times just because he was always acting like he had something better to do and she was annoyed with him.

But she couldn’t in good conscious, let someone else take a grade that she worked for, whether it had been difficult to get or not.

She had almost been looking forward to working with James when they were first partnered. He was cute, and he was funny, and he usually sat next to her and there had definitely been some flirting. She knew very little about him. He was a football player, he had amazing hair that he was constantly playing with, his eyes were dangerously mesmerizing, and he was late for class almost every day.

It was six thirty-nine when there was a knock on her door.

Lily felt both annoyed that he’d taken nine of the ten minutes, and a bit guilty for giving him such a hard time. People were busy, sometimes time got away from them.

But as she walked to the door, she got annoyed again because showing up forty minutes late said a lot about how little you thought of the person whose time you were wasting. Her time was valuable too, even if she wasn’t a student athlete. She could have been working on her orgo homework instead of messing around with the font sizes and wording on their presentation while she waited for him.

“I’m sorry,” James said as he walked into her flat. He always walked in like a storm. His hair was wild, his limbs moving with direction and purpose, his eyes flashing. Lily stepped back, giving him a wide girth.

Unlike every other time she’d seen him storm into a room, today, he was carrying a car seat.

“Sirius was supposed to watch Harry for me so that we could finish this project, and then he ‘forgot’ to tell me that he had a date until after I was already supposed to be here. I tried texting Remus, but he’s got his calc lab tonight and Peter’s working in the library- also I didn’t want to be this late, so I didn’t really reach out further than that.” He was talking a mile a minute, but Lily could hardly register what he was saying, she just stared at the round little face in the carrier.

“You have a baby?” She asked, and then she was crouching down so that she could get a better look. “Harry,” She reached out and took his little foot between her thumb and pointer.

“Yeah, Harry. He’s eight months old.” Lily looked up to find James’ hand in his hair. “He’ll probably fall asleep in a bit, so finishing our project shouldn’t be a problem.” He looked at the watch on his wrist and then pushed his glasses up to rub at one of his eyes.

“James, you could have just told me that tonight didn’t work for you.” Lily said, feeling guilty again. He should have communicated better, but he looked a frazzled. “If you need to take him home and put him to bed- I don’t want this stupid project to ruin his night.”

“What?” James’ glasses fell back onto his nose as he looked down at her. “No, he sleeps like a rock, so he’ll be fine. I just left his bag down in the car.” He made to lift the car seat again and Lily shook her head.

“You can leave him with me if you want. I live on the third floor of a building with no elevator. Unless you’re trying to impress someone, it’s insane to carry this thing up and down again.” She gestured to the car seat and he looked as though he was debating something. Lily almost started listing out the reasons she was qualified to be left alone with an infant.

“You’re sure?” James asked before she could tell him that she was CPR certified.  

“Of course.” Lily was sitting cross legged in front of the car seat now, smiling at Harry who was smiling right back at her. She’d already forgotten about econ.

James watched her and Harry for a moment longer and then rushed out the door.

“Well isn’t this a surprise,” Lily said, speaking with Harry as though he was an old acquaintance and not an eight-month-old. “I don’t know why your daddy thought I wouldn’t understand that he needed a bit of leeway here. I thought he just wanted to hang out with his friends or play with his hair, but he was probably with you, yes? And who wouldn’t want to be with you,” She wiggled his foot again and Harry laughed. Lily fought the urge to take the infant out of its car seat and hug him to her chest. “Why are you so cute?” She shook her head and Harry laughed again.

It didn’t take James long to run back up with Harry’s diaper bag.

“I just need a third arm and then this will be easier.” He said, closing her door behind him and setting Harry’s bag next to his own.

“I’m sure your coach doesn’t mind all the extra stairs you just had to scale.” Lily grinned, though she was still looking at Harry. “He’s like a perfect clone. Except for the eyes.”

James crouched down next to her. “You been paying attention to my eyes, Evans?”

“No, I’ve simply noticed that they’re not this brilliant shade of green.” Lily said coolly, turning to give him a look. “Green eyes aren’t nearly as common as people think. So for those of us with green eyes…”

“Sure.” James nodded, “Pretend like you don’t know what color my eyes are.” They were still looking at each other and Harry laughed again, kicking his feet. “Alright, alright, I’ll get you out of there.”

Soon, the three of them were at the table, and James was paying much more attention to their econ assignment than Lily was. But Harry was eating cheerios and kept getting them stuck to his chin and Lily couldn’t be blamed for being distracted.

“Do you want to hold him?” James asked after Lily had leaned across the table to help Harry find the cheerio that was stuck to the tip of his nose.

Lily bit the tip of her tongue and nodded. “I wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.”

James laughed and held Harry out to her across the table. Lily held out her arms, making sure that Harry wanted to come and sit with her before she took him. He reached out to her happily, grabbing a fist full of her hair almost immediately.

“I like her hair too, Harry,” James laughed, picking up a pencil now that his hands were free, and adding a few things to their notes.

“Are you using your child to flirt with me?”

“No,” James looked back up at her, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “I was flirting with you when he wasn’t here. I’m just continuing to flirt with you now that he’s here. I’m being consistent.”

“Ah,” Lily nodded as she gently pulled her hair from Harry’s grip. She tossed it up into a quick plait to prevent it from happening again and then looked over at James again. “I’m sorry I’m not helping.”

James laughed and shook his head. “I noticed that you added to it before I got here. And I brought the distraction. No need to apologize.”

“You did bring the distraction,” Lily agreed, letting Harry stand up on her lap. He started bouncing happily and Lily started singing nonsense that made him laugh some more. “I’m either hilarious, or you’re delirious.” Harry was still laughing, and Lily shook her head. “Delirious then.”

“He normally goes to bed about now.” James nodded, looking at his watch again. It was seven thirty and Lily didn’t feel like they’d been in her flat for almost an hour. She pressed her lips together for a moment and then nodded.

“There’s no reason we can’t finish up the rest of this online. We’ve already got the outline for the rest of the project done.”

“You’re sure you wouldn’t mind finishing it up that way?” James asked, and it was obvious that he would prefer to take his baby home before he fell asleep, so Lily nodded, even though she was not sure that she wanted to let Harry, or his father, go just yet.

“I don’t mind at all. I told you that I didn’t want to mess with his sleep.”

“Thanks,” His shoulders relaxed, and he started packing up his bag.

“And James,” Lily nabbed his attention. “Next time you can just tell me that you need to reschedule.”

“Oh? Are you going to pretend that you haven’t been very annoyed with my being late all the time?”

“No,” Lily shook her head. “Though I can be more understanding now that I know you’re not blowing off econ just for fun.”

“Right,” James nodded. “It’s not… I mean, it can be a little awkward telling people that I have a kid. And I don’t want to use him as an excuse- unless my mates are trying to get me to go out and get shitfaced on a Tuesday.” He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “And then sometimes I go too long without telling someone that Harry is around, and then it’s awkward when they find out. I’m still trying to work out how to handle it all.”

“Completely unacceptable.” Lily deadpanned. James laughed.

“Right, well, thank you for being understanding and for not getting upset that I had to bring him with me.”

Lily narrowed her brow. “Who would get upset?”

James shrugged. “People have all kinds of weird reactions when you ask them to be accommodating.” James stood up and so Lily did too, sliding Harry deftly to her hip as they made their way toward the door.

“I suppose that’s true. But if you want to bring him to any future projects we have to do, I’ll do my best not to be annoyed.”

James snorted, “Right. You look very annoyed right now.” He put Harry’s snacks back into his pack and then held out his hands to take Harry back.

Lily gave Harry a hug first and then handed him back. “I’m only a little annoyed.”

“So, you like kids, do you?”

“What gave me away?”

James laughed and Lily grinned.

And then Harry was all strapped in and James was carrying everything he had brought with him. “Alright, well then, I’ll text you when he’s down so we can finish up our project. See in class?”

Lily nodded. “Sounds good,” She waved at Harry. “Hope to see you around too, little one.” Harry laughed at her again, but this time it was immediately followed by a big yawn. “I feel you,” She nodded.

She opened the door for James and waved again, this time at him. “See you later.”

 As Lily has thought, their project required no further face to face meetings, which she no longer thought was a relief. Now that she knew James wasn’t some inconsiderate ass who thought it was fine to show up thirty or forty minutes late, she found that she liked more than just his hair or his eyes.

James had texted her after he’d gotten Harry to sleep, only they hadn’t stopped texting after they had finished their project.

And then they never really stopped texting.

And the flirting in class came back tenfold.

She was sitting on the couch, her feet propped up on the arm, her head resting on Mary’s lap, and her phone glued in front of her face when Mary tugged on her hair.

“You texting that econ boy again?” She asked.

“You know that I am.”

“I do know that. I was starting a conversation though, and I wasn’t just going to jump right into the middle, was I?”

“You’ve been known to do worse.” Lily set the phone down on her chest and looked up at her friend.

“Have you even seen him outside of class yet?” Mary asked, still looking at her own phone.

“No, but I didn’t even like him until-“

“Until he showed you his baby.” Mary sighed and looked down at her. “Babies are like crack to you.”

“I don’t like him because he has a baby.” Lily said. “I forgave him for being late so often because he has a baby. I liked him before though.”

“You mentioned his hair a couple times,” Mary nodded. “But I wasn’t really trying to give you a hard time for your weird fascination with small humans.”

“It’s not weird to like kids, Mary. You like kids.”

“Sure, and do I wish that I had been home while there had been a baby right here? Where I am every day? Yes, but I was just trying to tease you, let it go so we can get to the point.”

“If you started conversations with your point-“

“Are you going to ask this bloke out?”

Lily pressed her lips together. “Am I allowed to ask him out?”

“Do you want to?”

“I… want him to ask me out.” Mary whacked her on the arm and Lily cried out. “Only so I know that it’s okay! I’ve asked blokes out before, I’m not scared!”

“You are totally a scardy-cat, but have you considered that maybe he doesn’t think it’s okay to ask you out?”

“He said that he was still trying to figure things out with Harry.” Lily said, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger.

“So the two of you are just going to keep obnoxiously texting one another to no end?” Mary asked. “And look, if that is the reason that he says no to a date, will it crush you? Will you be unable to go on?”

Lily pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

“Well then…”

“Alright. Alright I get your point.”

Mary narrowed her brow and stayed quiet.

“What?”

“Well go ahead and ask him out.”

“I can’t do it now! We’re talking about how The Voice was a better show before they made all the rule changes.”

“I don’t know why you’re hung up on that-“

“They need to get Adam back, that’s why.”

“Ask out your boy, Evans. Or else.”

“I don’t like it when you say that. I never know what it means.”

“You’re not supposed to.”

“You filled my entire pillowcase with shaving cream once.”

“Well, you’re the one that didn’t listen to me, so who’s fault was that?”

Lily shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “Definitely yours.”

“You’re stalling.” Mary grabbed Lily’s wrist and moved her arm so that Lily’s phone was in front of her face again. “Ask him out. Ask him to dinner here, or for coffee or something else lowkey.”

“You think asking him to dinner here, where I’d cook for him, is lowkey?” Lily’s brow went up. “Remind me to help you out if you ever think about asking someone out.”

“I didn’t say you had to cook for him- you could order in- oh shut up and text him.”

Lily huffed and then clicked on her phone again.

James: Last season was weird anyway just because everyone knew Maelin was going to win from the beginning

Lily: Yes, so I’m going to change the subject now

James: Thank you for the warning lol

Lily: right

Lily: I know that you’re really busy, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime. Coffee maybe?

As soon as she hit send, she shoved her phone into the couch cushions.

“You did it already?” Mary asked, surprised.

“You told me to!” Lily pushed herself up and spun around toward Mary.

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know, I turned off my screen.”

“Well you gotta look!”

“I know that!” Lily pulled her knees up to her chest. “He’s going to say no. He’s going to tell me that he doesn’t have time.”

“You don’t know that.” Mary said. “He might say ‘yes.’”

“He might say ‘yes.’” Lily agreed and then dug her phone out of the cushions.

James: You asking me out, Evans?

“He didn’t even answer yet, he just wants to know if I’m asking him out.” Lily’s heart was in her throat.

“Well then clarify! I should have proofread your text.”

“I asked him if he wanted to go out sometime. That’s pretty clear!”

Lily: Of course, I’m asking you out.

“Is saying ‘of course’ a bit aggressive? It’s too late if you’re going to say yes because I’ve already sent the message.”

“No, it’s cute.” Lily looked at Mary. “Sort of aggressive, but in a cute way. Maybe.”

James: Right, of course you are. Why wouldn’t you?

James: I’d love to go out with you

“He said yes!”

“Okay, play it cool!” Mary was on her knees next to her now.

Lily: Love? Relax. I asked you to coffee

“That’s a bit too cool,” Mary laughed. Lily shoved her.

“Don’t read over my shoulder.”

“I’ll do what I want!” But she sat back down.

Lily bit her tongue and settled back against the couch. She really liked this bloke.

James: It’s your enthusiasm that’s bolstering me thanks

James: You free before class on Thursday?

Lily: I am.

James: You were

James: Meet you at one?

Lily: So I should show up at one thirty then?

James: I can be on time occasionally

Lily: Proof?

James: I can tell that you really do like me

James: I’m so excited for you to tease me in person

Lily: teasing is 90% of how I flirt so

Lily: I hope you don’t mind.

James: Nah, I don’t.

[border-spam]

Regarding ur pain snippet, would Troy feel comfortable venting around Sei? And if yes, how would they handle it??

Troy doesn’t feel comfortable venting about it with anyone. He’s spent his entire life trying to not be pitied while stumbling in the shadow of Tyreen’s blinding light, demanding perfection from himself to hide physical weaknesses and chronic illness from the greedy eyes of the billions of online followers who obsess over the twin’s every recorded breath.

But if you know God King Calypso well enough, if you’re close enough to him?

There are gentle ways to reassure Father Troy it’s safe to tell you the truth.

Sei and Troy are very close. 

They weren’t originally, it was actually Tyreen who was far more in tune with Seifa in those first couple of months together, back when the twins were recovering on her ship after their first failed attempt at surviving on Pandora.

Ty was engaging, a bubbly young woman full of endearing chattiness and interested in everything Sei did. A hundred questions an hour as she followed Sei around the ship like, what are sponsorships? How do you get marks to keep their eye on you and not be distracted by competition? How do you move to make them hungry for your body? How do you know when you’ve gone too far? How do you read the room? How do you - 

Tyreen had a million hows and a mouth that never seemed to need to rest, but Troy was silent. He had his reasons... he didn’t want to be there after all. 

Pandora had been cruel to them both from the moment their worn soles crunched into its acrid dust, but it had hurt Troy. Really, it had almost killed him.

He’d been left sick, uncomfortable in his own stretched skin, and wary of anyone who was other - which meant Seifa. Thinking back on it, she had been pretty insulted by how he’d acted in the first few weeks in her home, before she understood.

Tyreen on the other hand was thankful for her. She was a font of laughter and energy, flitting about the ship as her new friend worked and attempting to “help her” in thanks for the hospitality Sei had shown them, as if hindering her chores with constant interruptions was somehow going to pay her back for taking them in, but Troy? He was just... there. 

A looming, gangly shape standing awkwardly in corners. Rudely quiet, only proving he wasn’t mute through crackly whispers to his twin that would fall silent when Seifa would approach. A nervous, cagey giant of a child who came across as both irritated and terrified by Sei, till he’d finally talked, and he’d explained everything.

Tyreen had been the one who filled the ship with laughter in those first 6 months, but Troy had been the one to tell her the truth of things. 

They settled as companions, slowly.

By the time Seifa had accepted the twin's request to join their management staff in the early growth of the COV and had returned to Pandora, the friendship between the three was easy. 

Tyreen was still the focus of all attention mind you, it was still her who'd control the conversations and limelight when they'd meet each week in the "God Twin's" shared cloister to relax together in dropping their charades and becoming human again for a few hours.

Troy was happy just to sit between the women and smile as they eased into their drinks and each other's company on those nights. It was enough for him to simply exist next to people who liked his presence. There was warmth in those times, Sei's snorting laughter cracking a smile across his face he could never quite hide as she'd lean against the weight of his side, Ty insisting they watch as she theatrically reenacted how the day's encounter with off-world investors had gone. Never well for them, but always hilariously in her favor.

As the months turned to a year though, Tyreen just slowly stopped turning up.

They never really noticed as it happened, it was subtle, one missed night a month, then 2, then 3... It became Sei and Troy instead of Sei and the Twins.

The conversations would turn a little gentler without Tyreen's razor sharp energy to infect them, and they’d sit side by side, sharing snippets of each other's pasts, their hopes, and the things they both wanted from this newborn cult. Regrets sometimes, if the atmosphere was right.

The cloister slowly started to feel empty with just two people, and they knew deep down that Tyreen was unlikely to start joining again - she was far too busy with her God Queen persona and heaving fanbase to have the time to waste doing fuck all with close friends. The high walls and open space decor of the twin's shared quarters started feeling cold without her electricity, so they shifted to his ship instead. Troy's Sanctum.

She'd still turn up every so often, a couple of months of no appearances and then that crystalline laughter would ring through his quarters and they'd turn to raise a glass at the holy Vault Mother as she kicked off her boots with gusto and grabbed a seat, but eventually, that stopped too, and for quite a long time it was just Troy and Seifa on those nights, together in warm comfort.

A friendship that had bloomed into the easy, open kind where silence didn't mean awkwardness, where you could sit arm against arm and breath out the stresses of titles, and Godhood, and the crushing weight of responsibilities you never really asked for or wanted, and just... be. Just exist next to the reassuring presence of someone who never wanted more from you than what you could honestly give, because they knew who you really were, deep in your core.

It was Jak-Knife who joined next.

Troy's bodyguard had stood stoically outside his Sanctum's doors so many times that they’d become part of the evening, nodding at the Mechanicum's Saint as Seifa would arrive. Return her wink and knowing chuckle as they'd step to the side for her. It made sense they'd eventually find their way inside at his welcome, and the shared laughter in his home grew with their gruff warmth and open heart.

It was Ven, after.

The Oracle was impossible to avoid in general, he was a grandstanding assault on the senses with charisma almost as flamboyant as his dress sense, but the longer anyone spent around Ven, the easier it was to truly appreciate his company for what it really was. Someone who genuinely liked you for who you were, and not what his unique insight told him you could provide him in the future.

Troy had always had a soft spot for the gaudy soothsayer. Personal reasons maybe, he was the only one who knew what Ven had signed his life away to the COV in return for after all, and maybe that was why when Ven began to fill Sanctum with terrible stories and obvious lies about the beautiful people who fawned over him on benders in the Holy City's slums, it didn't take long before his delicate brother Eli joined them too. 

Seifa saw the connection even if the other's didn't, Eli's joint braces and medical equipment, the sadness in Troy's glances. Physical weakness, unashamed from someone so strong in character. She saw how Troy looked at the other man, the fleeting respect in those ice-blue eyes. The shame.

They became a unit in the end, Jk, Ven, Eli, Seifa, and their broken God King, a rickety family existing inside the guts of a monstrous one as the COV surrounded and spread through their lives with every passing day its grip across Pandora tightened.

But Seifa and Troy are very close.

They know each other, inside and out. They've shared their failures, illnesses, rages and tears. They are the keeper of each other's years of secrets. That he's so sick so often, that her right eye is practically blind, that he wishes he wasn't what he's turned into, that they are both so desperately lonely.

She knows how to manipulate him into being honest about the painful reality he carries in a body that's never really functioned well, that's gnawed at inside by half of a power no one understands enough to try and heal.

She perfected it by watching the other people who care about him.

JK, huffing theatrically as they eye an exhausted Troy's shaky hand as he forces himself to continue working, complaining that they are hungry, that he may be a workhorse but they need to rest, then chuckling at his blustery ego as he mocks them and takes the out.

Ven and his little white lies, his warnings that Troy needs to stop pouring over the latest viewer statistics and take a break, because he "got glances" at bad outcomes if they weren't left till later. The reassurances that everything will be fine and things will turn out better if he stops for the night.

Eli, explaining how the latest medication course Troy's medical team recommended really helped with the tension pull in his shoulders from his spinal issues, chatting in surprising detail about how relieving it's been, what dosage he's been taking...

Troy will not talk about his chronic issues with anyone, because he is terrified of appearing weak. She doesn't know why for definite, but she can guess, and is pretty sure it's related to his childhood. From the snippets he's given her, the emotionless monotone of his voice when he speaks about his father, well, she has hunches. 

Neither of the twins were happy as children, neither of them talk about "home" with even a vague sparkle of joy in their dead eyes. But Troy, he shies away from it, like there is something he's ashamed of, or the lingering ghost of something that haunted his early years and follows him still.

Troy is terrified of being pitied, because he so desperately wants to be seen as reliable. He wants to be strong. He wants to be useful.

So to get him to open up? You need to ask for his help.

Sei is a clever woman, and Troy is a lost, broken man who is so easy to wrap around her finger that sometimes she wonders at times if it's intentional.

When she sees him flagging, when his skin is a little lighter than normal, the dark under his eyes deeper, she'll play the damsel. She'll let him be the knight in shining armour that the little boy in him so clearly wishes it could have grown into. Sei will gasp gently when they are alone in his ship on these nights, pinch her lip between her teeth as she slowly rotates her wrist and stares sadly at the tremor that runs through it. She'll act it out, knowing he's watching, and wait for him to take the bait.

He always does - he can't help it. He'll always try and help her even when he's sick or exhausted. He'll always approach and ask if she's ok even if a migraine is rendering him barely able to stand.. because that's who he is. That’s the real Troy DeLeon.

She'll sit on the plush edge of the recessed couch in the floor of his Sanctum, and wait for him to shakily lower his towering body to the cushioned floor in front of her, before he gently takes her wrist in a hand that could easily crush it.

She'll wince, flutter her eyelashes with a gasp, and nod along to his muttered questions as he turns it so carefully, crankily asking when it last acted up, why hasn't she seen the specialist he contacted months ago, why she’s not taken time off when he knows he’s not working her that hard, why is she such a pain in the ass, how bad does it hurt, is he helping...

Seifa will wait, all quiet sighs and hitched breaths till he's so focused in shifting the tiny bones of her wrist under the pressure of his thumb that she can ask him how he feels, and he'll tell her.

That's the key. 

Troy Calypso is so terrified of being seen as less because of his pain, that he'll pretend it doesn't exist, he'll suffer in silence alone in the sorrow of his empty ship. But if he's protecting someone else? If he is massaging the old fracture in Seifa's wrist and lost in the concentration of trying to ease her distress? He'll tell her about his neck if she asks, or the pain in the dull hollow of his lumbar, or how he's thrown up 4 times today, how he woke up the other night and was sure his heart had stopped.

He'll mumble out secret fears he was hiding behind the God King's vicious mask for weeks, and he'll let her run fingers through his hair as she tells him how strong he really is.