#4k words and for what??? something that was supposed to be a TINY AU.

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

The Chronicles of a Romantic Florist (3)

A loud crash sounded throughout the store, Mieran’s expression of surprise towards Lumio was only momentary before they both raced into the flower storage room behind the counter.

Alee knelt on the ground, clutching his hand to his chest as he glared at the shattered remains of a flower vase. The bouquet was strewn about the floor, his knees wet from the water in the vase now everywhere beneath him.

“Alee..” Mieran grabbed one of the folded cloths on a nearby table, he bent down and wrapped Alee’s bleeding hand. “What happened? Are you okay?” The artist questioned as Lumio helped Alee to his feet.

“I'm fine.. I think. I don't know what happened.” Alee shook his head, looking down at the shattered vase, he frowned. His flowers.. Mieran unfurled the cloth to look at the wound, grimacing quietly as he pressed the cloth back against the injury.

“It's really deep, he might need stitches.” He informed Lumio who nodded, bending down to pick up the shattered glass. “Come on, babe, let's go wash this, okay?” Mieran helped the florist out of the backroom while the mortician cleaned everything up.

Mieran ran Alee's hand under water so he could get a better look at the injury. He bit the inside of his cheek as blood continued to gush around his hand. “Okay we have to go to the hospital, this is bad.” Mieran grabbed another cloth, turning the tap off and once more wrapping Alee's hand.

“I can stitch it-”

“You're not stitching it yourself, Alee.”

Lumio dropped the glass and flowers in the trash can beside them. Alee huffed at them, but nodded, looking at the already blood soaked cloth. Mieran grabbed the florist's keys from under the counter with his free hand. But the keys were swiftly taken by Lumio.

“You drive too slow.” 

“I drive the speed limit!”

“I feel woozy…”

Mieran quickly picked the man up, groom style, rounding the counter to get into the front of the shop. Lumio followed, locking the store door behind them. Mieran led the way to Alee's car in the nearby parking lot, letting Lumio open the back door so he could lay Alee down on the seats.

Lumio got into the driver's seat, starting the car as Mieran shut the back door and then slid into the passenger seat. Mieran buckled himself in as Lumio peeled out of the parking lot with a screech.

“Don't fuck my car, Death.”

“At least he still has a sense of humour.”

“I'm bleeding, not dead.”

Alee held his hand to his chest, his vision was blurry and he was tired. “Don't worry, we'll get you patched up. Then we'll go on that date.” Mieran turned in his seat, squeezing Alee's knee reassuringly. They looked pale too, the artist frowned at them.

Alee rested his free hand on Mieran's hand, giving him a small squeeze in return. “You're going fifteen over the speed limit!” Mieran pointed out after a minute. Alee laughed, leaning his head against the window. He liked listening to them talk, he liked just being around them.

“And we'll get there fifteen minutes faster.” 

“That is not how time works, Lumio.”

“For the living maybe.”

Mieran made a face, turning his head to look at Alee again. “Hey, sleeping beauty.” They opened their eyes at his words, raising a dark brow. “Just testing.” Not like he’d die, he can’t. But still, Alee’s body didn’t need the shock to his system. Alee rubbed the artist’s hand, reassuring him as best as they could.

The hospital was some ways away near the highway out of town. The fact the small town even had a hospital was lucky, but from the downtown store, it wasn’t exactly a short drive. Lumio’s penchant for speed surely cut that time down, but he also risked cops. A risk the mortician was more than happy to take.

“Cops usually hide in the next bend, you should slow down before we hit that.” Alee warned, unfolding the cloth to look at the injury. It hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. He sighed and pressed the cloth back down on it. Lumio heeded his advice and slowed just before the bend, driving just under the speed limit. “He can drive the limit, good to know.”

Mieran snickered when they rolled their eyes at the two of them. “You feeling okay?” He inquired, leaning his chin on the headrest. Alee gave him a small shrug, a pout on his face. They were missing their scheduled date because he was too clumsy and dropped a vase. 

“Fine, I guess.. I wonder if that hot new doctor is working tonight?” 

“Oh yeah, didn't they move here a few months ago?” 

Mieran nodded, if he recalled correctly it had been a whole thing. A fancy new doctor from Ireland moving to their small town. He hadn't had the chance to meet them yet, then from what he heard at the cafe, they pretty much kept to themself, so that wasn't particularly surprising.

Lumio pulled into the hospital drive, following the curved path towards the emergency room doors. “You get him checked in, I'll park then join you.” Mieran nodded at them and unbuckled himself, opening the passenger side door, and he got out. Alee used his free hand to open the door, Mieran bending down to help him stand up.

Once the door shut, Lumio drove away towards the parking lot. “My wallet has my health card, can you..” Alee flushed a little, his neck getting red. Mieran slid his hand into their back pocket, pulling their wallet out. He also gave their ass a little smack for good measure. “Perv!” As if they weren't into it.

Mieran led him inside, the sliding doors opening for him. Alee smiled sheepishly at the nurse tending the station as they approached her. “How can I help- oh my.” She stood to inspect his injury, a frown gracing her features as he unfolded the cloth to show her the gaping wound. “Can I see your health card?” He struggled with his wallet. Mieran gently took it, opening it and pulling the man's card out to hand to her. “Thank you, dear.”

She typed something onto her computer before handing the card back to Mieran who put it away. “Just have a seat, I'll page Doctor Wolnes right away.” She smiled at them and Mieran turned, leading Alee back to the chairs. Her voice rang out over the pa system just as they sat down, Alee's head falling against Mieran's shoulder. He still felt lightheaded and woozy, black dots spotted his vision.  

“Mister Destan?” 

“Doctor.”

Mieran corrected a nurse who'd approached them. “Apologies, come with me Doctor Destan. We'll take you to a back room to get that looked at.” He nodded at the nurse and stood up on shaky legs. Mieran was quick to stand to support him, the two following the nurse through a set of marked double doors. He'd text Lumio once he got Alee situated, go back out to meet them.

“Doctor Wolnes will be in shortly, alright?” 

Alee nodded as he sat on the hospital bed, watching the nurse leave the room. “That's the new doctor.” Mieran noted as he pulled the sheet over Alee's trembling legs. He'd lost a lot of blood. “Okay.” He leaned forward and kissed the florist’s temple. “I'm going to go update Lumio, but I'll be back, okay?” Alee nodded, watching the artist also leave the room.

He waited for the doctor, opting to just stare at his bleeding hand with red hued eyes. The cloth had completely soaked through with blood. He barely felt the pain anymore, just felt cold. He could heal Mieran as much as he wanted, but he couldn't heal himself. No matter how much he tried, his energy could never transfer to his injuries. It was unfortunate, that way.

Alee sighed, leaning back against the pillows. Thankfully, he only had to wait a few minutes. The door opened, and in entered a tan skinned, amber eyed doctor in dark scrubs. “Good afternoon…” They looked at their clipboard. “Alee Destan. I'm Doctor Heath Wolnes.” They shut the door behind them, sitting on a stool and wheeling themself to his bedside. They placed the clipboard into the holder at the end of the bed.

Their hair was pulled back, a pen tucked behind their ear. They were really pretty, Cirino hadn't been kidding. They pulled gloves over their hands before gently holding their hand out to him. “May I?” Heath inquired and he nodded, placing his hand in theirs palm face up to show them the injury. They hummed quietly, turning his hand side to side. “There's still some glass…”

Heath set his hand on the bed beside him, wheeling over to the counter and cabinet in the room. The doctor stood up, grabbing some items before returning to Alee's side on the stool. “I'll have to suture it after getting the glass out.” Heath set the tray down on a rolling table. Alee nodded, once more holding his hand out to them. Heath picked up the tweezers, holding his hand in theirs, he carefully began to pick the small shards of glass from his hand.

They flushed the injury, taking care of the wound quietly. He barely made a sound, didn't even hiss as they dug the tweezers into his skin. “I noticed your eyes.” They spoke after a few minutes. Alee hesitated, he'd gotten so lightheaded he forgot to keep up the smallest detail of his disguise. Heath looked up at him, a small smile on their face. Their once amber eyes were now a bright shade of orange that faded to amber, glitter scattered throughout. Oh. He grinned back at them, vulpine canines on display. Their eyes were enchanting..

“Nice to meet another sorcerer.” 

“Yeah it is.. This town has a few, seems to attract us.” He joked as Heath began to suture the wound. They nodded, focusing on their work stitching him closed. Watching them work and listening to them talk, he could feel his neck getting warm. They really were pretty. But as far as he was aware, Cirino had already successfully wooed them. If his flower orders were anything to go off of at least. 

“Maybe I should get your number.”

Heath blinked, looking up at him momentarily before back down at his hand. “That's very bold, Doctor Destan.” They pulled the needle through his pale skin, watching as the injury was pulled closed by their stitching. Alee exhaled a small laugh, tilting his head back, he looked up at the white ceiling of the examination room.

“I'm just being friendly, I'm on good terms with Cirino Agosti.” 

His explanation was satisfactory, Heath decided as they finished the sutures. They tied it off, putting their tools away on the tray. And took a moment to inspect his face while he looked at his phone. Cirino hadn't lied, he was pretty. They were still holding his hand, cold in theirs. But from what they understood, the florist was hard to crack, and had already given away his heart... Not to mention, they'd given away theirs too, to a certain Italian they adored. 

His beauty was purely aesthetically pleasing to them. Nothing comparable to their feelings for Cirino. Still, they could use the friendship. They were still new in town, with very little friends to speak of. Most stayed away from the newcomer, something they had expected from a small town but one that still didn't feel great.

“Very well.”

Their voice caught his attention, surprised to see their bright eyes on him. He tilted his head to the side, a soft smile on his face. The doctor rattled off their number in a quiet voice, heavy accent only somewhat masked. He nodded and entered the number into his phone, the smile never leaving his face. After a moment or two, they felt their phone vibrate in their pocket. They were still holding his hand. They let him go. 

“Thank you doctor.”

Ale slid off of the exam bed, cradling his still injured hand to his chest. “Any time, I recommend using ibuprofen for the pain.” He nodded at them. “Oh.. One more thing, may I ask what you're a doctor of?” Heath tilted their head at him, watching as he rounded the bed towards the door. Alee seemed to hesitate for a moment, averting his gaze.

“Biochemistry. My thesis was on heredity in living organisms. However, I preferred plants to people. And now I work with plants.” He smiled at them, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Heath seemed momentarily surprised, but their neutral expression quickly returned to their face.

“Interesting. Well, you're clear to go. Have a good afternoon.”

“You too, Doctor Wolnes.”

Alee pushed himself up, running a hand through his long messy hair. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table, blanket falling around his bare waist. He squinted against the light of his phone, mouthing the time. It was late. Three am. Mieran would be asleep and Lumio was usually embalming at this hour. He sighed quietly, rolling onto his back.

Espresso whined in his sleep, small legs kicking as he dreamed. Alee brought his free arm around the puppy, holding him as he scrolled through his phone. Heath was on night rotation which meant they were probably awake. He could text them? He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about his options.

A.D.: hey

Alee waited, scrolling through his various social media accounts to pass the time. Until his vision blurred and he was forced to grab his glasses, putting them on his face. He blinked a few times as the dark room came into focus, no longer blurred. Espresso whined again and he looked down at the overexcited puppy. The florist smiled gently, petting his ears.

H.W.: Good evening. You're up late.

A.D.: couldn't sleep. thought i'd see what my favourite doctor is up to.

H.W.: I'm the only doctor you talk to.

H.W.: I'm eating dinner.

A.D.: your life sounds fun

H.W.: Yes if you call listening to six different people explain common cold symptoms they could treat at home.

A.D.: ahh so i was your most interesting patient this month?

H.W.: You and the man who got a tree branch in his leg, somehow.

Alee giggled, freezing when Espresso moved in his sleep, stirred by the man's quiet laughter. He pet him back to sleep, waiting until he was soundly chasing squirrels in his doggy dreams before Alee snuck a peek at his phone again.

H.W.: What do you do when you can't sleep?

A.D.: i look at my plants, or play video games, i don't know i don't do much.

H.W.: I've heard you keep an impressive greenhouse. I'll have to come see it sometime.

A.D.: when are you off?

H.W.: Tomorrow then I work the weekend shift.

A.D.: well you know my address ^^

H.W.: That I do.

H.W.: Break is over. Sleep well when you do.

Alee looked forward to seeing the kind doctor, setting his phone and glasses back on the bedside table. He'd have to try and get some sleep for work the next say. The florist sighed, pulling the blanket over his shoulder as he laid on his side. He'd do his best to sleep. At the very least, rest, should the insomnia strike him again.

And they had stopped by, his usual order for iced coffee sweetened in their hand. Though they were there far earlier than he usually opened. He rubbed his eyes, groggy as he took the coffee from their hand and let them into his shop so he could show them the greenhouse he kept in the store. Flowers, vegetables, herbs. Anything he wanted, he learned how to grow. 

And this was something that became a regular routine between the two. Coffee and plants. Alee's idea of a perfect morning. Though, despite his insistence on it only ever being friendship. Mieran and Lumio had their fun teasing him about the pretty doctor. Always asking when he'd snag them for the two of them the same way he'd caught Lumio. 

“You two are insatiable! Threes a crowd as is.” Alee huffed, running his fingers through Lumio's hair as the mortician laid on his chest, face buried in his chest. “Oh, unless of course we're thinking about jumping on Mieran's hot barista friend~ You know Vesper has the hots for you, Mier.” Alee winked at his boyfriend, smirk on his lips as Lumio chuckled at his accusation.

“Xe does not! I think xe likes you actually.” Mieran rolled his eyes, tugging on the toy Espresso was currently trying to wrestle out of his hand. Alee made a face, he didn't think the barista liked him, he figured he would have noticed that. The way he'd noticed xem. Lumio lifted their head slightly, looking up at Alee with their blue diamond eyes. They heard his heart race. But to his joy, they didn't mention it, laying their head back against his chest.

“Still! You should ask them out to lunch. Cook for them!”

“And compete against well known mafia chef Cirino Agosti? No thanks! That's a death and lack of skill wish.”

Alee sighed, leaning his head back against the couch, fingers absently carding through Lumio’s soft hair. “Mm.. You could always send them a bouquet.” They suggested, growing tired from the comfortable hair petting.

“Too forward..”

“Huh? That's what you did for me.”

“We were already close.. I don't know, maybe I'll invite them to the cinema. That way neither of us have to talk and we can eat bad fast food instead.”

“Cute! Bring them to a horror, maybe they'll cling to you.”

Alee made another face.

He was honestly surprised when they had agreed to hang out with him at the cinema. Alee had expected them to decline, they didn't go out much, why would it change for him? 

But still they sat beside him in the dark theatre, absently talking about the horror movie they were going to watch before the previews even started. He tossed a piece of popcorn up into the air, tilting his head back to catch it.

Heath reached out, catching the popcorn piece before he did. “Hey!” The doctor laughed at Alee's bewildered expression, tossing the piece of popcorn into their mouth instead. Alee rolled his eyes, doing the same action again, but this time he caught it in his mouth.

They sat at the back corner, allowing them to whisper to one another about the plot of the movie. “I think Alice is behind it.” Heath whispered in Alee's ear, breath warm against his cold skin. The florist hummed, acknowledging the doctor's statement. He agreed.

The rest of the movie went relatively quietly, Heath had been right. A shared look between the two at the reveal. It was entertaining, Heath's mind worked similarly to his own. An enjoyable dissection of the facts. 

Heath even offered to drop him off at home, though he definitely could have walked. He still appreciated their offer, accepting it. Alee wished the movie had lasted longer, or that their evening could have continued. But he didn't want to overstep too much.

The doctor pulled their car up to the sidewalk, putting the vehicle in park. They unbuckled themself, stepped out of the car, and rounded it to open the door for the florist. “Thank you..” Alee took their hand, letting them help him out of the car. They closed the door behind him, releasing his hand.

“Thank you for tonight.” Alee started as they walked to the door leading to his apartment. He pulled his keyring out of his pocket, holding it in one hand as he turned to face them. Heath offered a smile at him, their eyes captivating him as per usual. He couldn't help but get lost in them. They were beautiful. Their jaw, their lips, their eyes, their skin.

“I had a lovely evening. We should do this again some-”

Heath was cut off by Alee's lips against theirs. The kiss was gentle, his lips cold but soft, he tasted faintly of cherry cola. They stared at him, eyes wide, arms limp at their side. Alee pulled away quickly upon realising they didn't respond to his affection. The florist took a half step back, quickly averting his eyes from their shocked expression.

“I'm sorry-”

“No I'm.. I apologise, Alee, I didn't mean to lead you on in that matter.”

Alee cleared his throat and nodded, his hands shook. “I thought.. I'm sorry for misunderstanding.” He turned, quickly unlocking the door despite the way his shaky hands made it difficult. “Have a good night, Doctor Wolnes.” He pushed open the door, quickly entering and shutting it behind him. He felt embarrassed. He locked the door.

Heath stared at the door, watching the man run up the steps before disappearing somewhere upstairs. They took a step away from his door, hand running through their silver hair. He kissed well, he tasted good, his lips felt nice against theirs. They knew Cirino wouldn't care, or rather, would be supportive. But they hadn't exactly expected that, especially not from Alee. They weren't sure how they felt about him.

They touched their lips, they could feel the faint trace of his lipgloss. Their phone vibrated in their pocket and they used their free hand to pull it out. Heath squinted at the message, another apology from the florist in question. The doctor swallowed thickly, pocketing their phone and turning back to their car.

Heath would have to think about it, think about him. They felt a wave of nausea wash over them, an anxiety rising in their stomach. It wasn't often they felt like this, so uneasy. But he had a way of getting under their skin, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way they couldn't deny. Heath slid into the driver's seat, pulling the car door shut. 

They almost wanted him to dare try again. It was cute, in a way. Cirino was always forward and flirty, they liked that, part of why they liked him. But Alee played it differently, in another way they liked. Still forward, but with a level of determination that sparked something in their heart. Maybe they'd have to talk to Cirino about it. Maybe he would know what to do, because they certainly weren't sure.

But until they got the chance to.. Their cheeks darkened as they thought about how nice it would be to kiss Alee again. To pull him closer, he wasn't much shorter than them, but enough they could tilt his head up to them. A soft sigh escaped the doctor, now wasn't the time for fantasies about a man they hadn't even thought about in this way until that kiss.

Could they really so easily fall due to a kiss? Heath wanted to laugh. What was he? A siren? How ridiculous it was to be thinking like this. And yet. They could almost still feel his lips. He even kissed differently than Cirino. Cirino was sure, confident, he knew what he wanted with every kiss he gave and took. Alee was more shy, hesitant and soft. It was sweet, almost sickeningly so. They kept one hand on the wheel, touching their fingers to their lips again with their free hand.

Heath sighed, lowering their other hand back to the steering wheel. Overthinking their feelings would drive them crazy. Cirino already had the success of doing that once, driving them crazy with need for him. Heath wasn't even sure about Alee's own relationships. They had never really asked for more detail about them. They wondered what sort of situation it was. Wondered if they even got to make a move if it was something allowed or open or.. 

Too much thinking for one evening.

[flydotnet]

Crimson Shards

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.” Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

You know what they say: never two without three, and this Whumptober has already had two entries that can just be summarized as "Hikaru has a bad time a couple years before the first HSAU story rolled around"; except this time this isn't haha soft sickfic-adjacent stuff about him simping for Yoshiko in 4K 60fps, it's making someone bleed to death on the fucking pavement, and the angstier the better.

HSAU knowers (by that, I mean people who have read "That Wasn't Written in the High School Field Trip Handbook, Though?" will recognize this story as being set at the moment Hikaru tells Ryuji about in chapter 4.

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Crimson Shards

Summary: One wrong stir of the wheel and so much can change.

Fandom: Captain Tsubasa but make it an oddly specific French high school AU

Word Count: 1K words

AO3 version available here.

Content warning for vehicular casualties, open/ambiguous ending and graphic depictions of blood and injury.

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Watch out!

Before she can understand what’s going on, Yoshiko finds herself hitting the ground, pain splattering through her whole body. She hits her head in her fall, feels something warm and liquid go down her legs and arms.

The blaring sound of a car alarm deafens her to the point all of her senses are ringing. Once her eyes work once again, she looks up: a car is crashed into a lamppost, the driver knocked unconscious on the steering wheel, the windshield broken beyond recognition.

When she finally thinks she should get up, Yoshiko gets ready to push herself on her arms – only to notice there are thousands of glass shards where she’d have put her hands as well. There actually are some stabbed right into her limbs, and the sting from it is now obvious to her.

This is awful.

Change of gears: she decides to only get up on her feet – but there’s a weight on her entire self. She turns around to see what it is, dread superseded by adrenaline, only to catch the scariest of sights: Hikaru slouched over her, eyes shut close and face twisted in pain. He’s covered in blood and glass shards, and for a moment, she’s terrified the worst has happened; but thank God, he still breathes.

“Hikaru, can you hear me?!” She cries out to him but gets no response.

Gathering all of her strength, she pushes him off her on the side that has the least amounts of glass littering the pavement. Unfortunately, she only remembers afterwards that you’re not supposed to move someone who’s been injured from where they landed, and now, there’s a trail of blood following one of Hikaru’s legs, crimson tainting the pavement and shards alike.

Finally coming to her sense, she feels for her phone in her pocket and fetches it with a trembling arm. Everything hurts, from the shoulder Hikaru must’ve bruised with his hand to the tip of her ring finger in which where a tiny shard has found its way, but she still gets the device out of her jeans’ pocket. Its screen is just like her, fractured in the middle, but it still turns on. Second better news in a situation where nothing feels right.

Her breath shudders as she makes her call to 15. The details are as fuzzy as they come: from what she understands, a car swerved right into a lamppost and both her boyfriend and she were on its way. It’d seem like her boyfriend shielded her in some way, considering the light injuries she suffers compared to him, who’s profusely bleeding from one of his legs.

She isn’t sure of what details to add. Hikaru seems conscious, since he’s gritting his teeth, but can’t speak. The driver, on the other hand, hasn’t stirred at all since earlier, and considering the blood she can see from here, she has no doubt he’s most likely dead by now. She’s asked to keep the call going and to update them if anything changes or she notices more things.

Passers-by have now surrounded the scene. Some of them reach to the driver and quickly confirm what she suspected (deep inside her, she only has contempt for this man and relief it was neither Hikaru nor her, she’ll find her sympathy again later), others come to her and ask her if she’s okay, notice she’s shaken. One very nice woman puts her coat over her shoulders when she notices the tremors that pulse through her whole body.

Her voice breaks and tears flow down her cheeks because she’s cold, hurt and scared, but she wants people to know it’s Hikaru who needs their attention, not her, she’ll be fine. He’s the one who’s bleeding at a rapid pace. It’s him who probably took the impact directly, probably why he bleeds – oh no.

She ducks his way, leading the adults watching over him to give them some space.

“Hikaru, can you move your leg?”

He grunts, but this time, his eyes open. They’re unfocused and she can barely stand the sight of them with a shard right under his left one letting blood flow undisturbed, even if it’s just a slight trickle and a light blemish in the greater order.

“Which one?”

Yoshiko stares intently. His right one has a pool under it and, if she squints, she’s sure she could squint a bone.

“Your right one,” she replies.

He tries doing just that, but all they get is a scream of sheer agony.

“Hurts like a bitch,” he spits out, blood along his saliva.

“I’m so sorry, Hikaru,” sorrow inhabits her every word.

“I-it’s fine.”

It’s, at least, somewhat good news: this means he can still feel his leg. If all goes right, then he’ll be able to walk on it again, and it’s not all doom and gloom… if things go right, because now, she’s stuck in the middle of the cold wind, staring at him losing blood by the second, and other people doing what they can; yet it all feels somewhat in vain, if nobody truly qualified and with the right tools.

Yoshiko tries not to cry again, because she wants to be here for Hikaru like he’s trying to be for her, despite his pain and his numerous, heavy injuries. He almost gave his life for her; how can she now throw it all away? She needs to make sure they’ll both be fine by the end of the day. That’s all that should matter to her.

Powerlessness is a burden not unlike lead.

The wait is inhumane, playing on all of her nerves, making the pungent stench of iron so much stronger to a point of giving her nausea. Her eyelids are heavy with fatigue and her eyes with yet more tears, but she must be strong. It’s not a question of if she can or not, it’s a question of how long she needs to be.

For all of those pretty promises, when she hears the sirens in the distance, a sigh of relief comes in a shudder, and Hikaru is still smiling, even if it looks twisted and so uncomfortable to look at – while her lips are still trembling.

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ out of my league﹫mark lee

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums

pairing : mark x reader (f)

genre : tiny angst, fluff, smut with some plot, bestfriend!mark, college!au, best friends to lovers.

warnings : weed, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, praising.

word count : +4k

synopsis : your best friend Mark Lee tells you all the things he believed, you were always out of his league.

Mark Lee has been in love with the same person for as long as he could remember. It's something he took some time to understand, days to wrap his head around. 

Where do you draw the line between deep friendship, platonic love between friends and a connection running deeper, a love that seeks more than the label "friends" ?

Laying on your bed, his right hand throws a tennis ball in the air, easily catching it while his left hand hold the rolled up paper between two fingers.

It's a shame, the smoke he's blowing out of his lungs is probably sticking to your bed sheets, ones he noticed you washed the moment he dropped his body on your bed.

Soft rose fragrance, traces of an exotic fruit he can not pin point, though Mark is sure he could recognise the perfume of your detergent between thousands of others.

Heavy sigh, smoke escaping his lips like a dragon dissolving in the air, heavy eyelids closing in front of his brown irises. He really should stop smoking, Mark thinks. It's a black hole in his wallet, it is not that good for his health and fuck, does it makes his mind wonder.

Correction, Mark should stop smoking around you. Because, whenever he does, his mind might search in the deepest, darkest folds of his brain for a new topic, he'll always, forever, come back to you.

Mark Lee has been in love with you for as long as he can remember.

It's something he's been aware of for some years now. It's crazy how he can pinpoint the moment his mind clicked, the moment he put two and two together. He can still visualise the moment his heart went from a friendship he'd die for to a love he'd die for, one so strong he, himself, was dumbfounded by his years long blindness. 

It happened right before prom, second to last year of high school. Mark Lee remembers when you stepped out of your father's car (he doesn't trust any other boy but Mark, he insisted on driving you to your school's dance).

Pretty deep blue dress, it's his favourite colour on his favourite person. You did not do anything special to your hair, only added a bit more makeup. Though, it's not your appearance that made everything click, you've always been pretty, it wasn't the first time your friend noticed.

Rather, it's when your date shows up. It's when one of the school's popular kid shows up and makes you dance that he understands. He wants it to be him so bad. He wants to make you twirl, he wants to make you laugh.

Mark understands it isn't just him being mad that you're not answering your phone, it's love. Jealousy, green monster eating away at his heart when he wonders if you're still with him, it's a hand tightly wrapping around the muscle when he wonders if you're going to fall into someone else's arms.

Mark remembers it, it was five years ago. Late summer night where he stayed on his phone for too long, love sick kid scrolling through pictures and pictures of his prom waiting for a text from his best friend.

He didn't say anything, maybe Mark was a bit of a coward, and you were out of his league.

“Mark ?”

From all the things you best friend loves about you, if he had to pick, it'd be the way you say his name. No matter the intonation, no matter the context, the men loves the way it sounds coming out of your lips.

He thinks he won't ever get enough of it, it's intoxicating, makes him think he has the prettiest name after your own. 

Eyelids slowly open, tired smile stretching his lips. You're steading in front of your bed, freshly showered, hand turning your small projector on. 

“Hm ?”, he doesn't bother answering with words, humming softly. His head turns to the side, following your movements around the bedroom he knows like the back of his hand.

“This one or...That one ?”, you ask, playing with your remote to show your best friend two animation movies you both saw too many times.

“First one.” You've noticed over time, his voice always gets deeper when he smokes, brown eyes always get a shade darker. 

“Alright, baby chose.”

Ah, correction. If there's one thing that Mark loves, it's the pet names you give him. So natural, honey filled, he wished you meant them. 

Baby, babe, darling. He loves it all, he wants it all, he wants you all. 

Unaware of his thoughts, you finally crawl up next to him, the shirt you're wearing as your pyjamas riding up, Mark takes another hit at that. 

Familiar sound of Netflix resonates in your room as you take yet another remote and turn your lights off, before gesturing towards your friend. You're not an avide smoker but, you infale the smoke a few times before giving the rolled up paper back to the brunette. 

Mark knows what's about to happen, whenever your movie night has a bit of green, the movie gets long lost behind while you two would rather speak about anything and everything. After years of friendship, you'd think you two would've took and turned every subject under the pale moon but, Mark definitely did not expect this. 

Hands free, he crushes the cigarette on the special painted bowl you have for him, Mark also loves the way you have some things for him on your house as if he lives with you. 

Your right hand is quick to find his left hand, an old habit your have. Your fingers stretch against his own, comparing sizes like kids flirting, swinging your hands from left to right. Your arm easily gets tired by holding your hand up in the air like this, but the warmth of Mark's hand and the way his fingertips rough by his guitar strings brush against your palm every now and then feels like home. 

“How do you know when you're in love ?”, your voice's soft, mindlessly humming to the song in the animation movie Mark chose. Is that the topic you decided to bring up...? Mark's hand stays still for a moment, following your own hand's movement as he thinks for a while. 

“Don't give me that “You just know” bullshit.”, you mumble when he stays quiet for a bit too long. 

“But I think you do, just know. I think it's different for everyone.”, he starts, speech slightly altered by the green herb intoxicating his mind. 

“How is it... For you ?”, you ask. See, you know Mark had some crushes here and there, but you don't think he has ever been in love or, at least, he never told you. 

“It's... Loving the way they say your name, wanting to be with them as much as possible. It's... Craving to be as close as possible.” and unconsciously, his fingers wrap around yours. 

“It's finding happiness in their joy, sharing their sadness. It's small things like memorising the perfume they wear and what food they dislike.”

The brunette stays quiet for a moment, heavy eyes look upon your locked hands in the darkness, chest light, mind foggy. 

“It's them feeling like home.”, he finally says. 

Mark smiles to himself, you do feel like home, you make everything feel like home. From the way you have a pillow and the way you keep a toothbrush for him, to the way you always feel so warm and safe. 

Thankfully for you, the lack of light hides the small blush creeping on your cheeks. 

Mark doesn't know, you've been in love with him for years, though you've been aware for a bit longer. His confession takes your breathe away with a heavy sigh, you squeeze his hand. 

“I was in love with you.”

Was, you take the safe route as the words fly out of your mouth before you can even understand. Even if he's shocked, you can play the past card. 

“I was in love with you too.”, silence doesn't last long as Mark let's out as well, eyes on the movie even though he isn't paying any attention : his favourite line just played and he didn't even let a giggle out. 

The words make your ears ring, skin burn red, heart beat against your ribcage. He was too...? He was. He isn't anymore. 

“Why didn't you tell me ?”, you breath out, turning to the side. You use an elbow to support your body, you dare look at your best friend's face. 

It's crazy how he still have the still has the same baby face you've always known, the same pretty eyes and the same smile, his jaw got sharper with years and voice deeper and yet, he's still the same. He's home. 

Mark, him, doesn't dare look at you for a second. Before he does, soft eyes looking directly into yours. Why didn't he tell you ? He knows why, he has a list of reasons why and another list of reasons why he should've told you he'd rather not think about right in this moment. 

“You're out of my league.”, he breathes out. You can read your best friend like a book, you know he is not joking when he tells you so. And yet, you can't wrap your head around the idea. 

“I— What, no !”, you're almost whispering and screaming at him at the same time, getting up to sit on your knees. He was out of your league, he has always been, you never—.

“You were—. You are out of mine.”, you tell him, almost dumbfounded. For a split second, it feels like someone's finally giving you the dream you've always wanted and, the moment it touches your hands, it slips through your fingers. 

Can you be nostalgic of something you've never even experienced ? And yet, your mind grabs onto a single thing. Present tense, you're still out of his league, he still thinks so. 

In his semi-high state, the brunette chuckles out, as dumbfounded. 

You wonder if there are feelings still unknown to humans because this, the pull you're feeling at the strings of your heart and the lump in your throat combined to the angering heat taking over your body aren't emotions you're used to feeling at the same time. 

“Hey, what's wrong ?”, your best friend asks, an arm wrapping around your neck to pull you closer. You're sure it's supposed to be for hug, one you'd happily accept if you weren't in this very situation. Both forearms stop your body from colliding against his, Mark frowns. 

In another situation, he'd be able to read you like an open book and, maybe he's thankful he isn't completely sober right now. If he wasn't slightly high, he'd be as red. 

“Are you...Are you still in love with me ?”, you ask. It's almost a whisper, one Mark is sure he would've caught if it wasn't for the almost silent scene going on in the long forgotten movie. 

Is he still in love with you ? Yes. His mind screams a loud, obnoxious yes. His body screams another loud and obnoxious yes and yet. Yet, Mark stays silent for what feels like minutes. He knows he is, he's sure of it, he doesn't know if he should say it. 

Yes, yes, yes. 

“Yeah.”

To be in love with your best friend, to confess your love after years, decades, even. 

Such a simple word and yet, it hangs in the air, you can almost make it out in the slight darkness of the room. When Mark has the ability to put words on how he feels, you can't put anything on what goes on in your brain and body when he says the simple truth. You think your heart might fall out right into your best friend's hand, if he did not already have it. Your mind twist the word again and again just to find a fault, a break, a rupture. 

There isn't none, he's in love with you. 

There's another few seconds where you stay silent. You decide actions speak louder than words. Where Mark pulled you into a hug, you pull him into a kiss you've been craving for years. 

Carnal need sleeping deep in both your minds, it doesn't need much to be awakened, burning a fire louder than hell's. Your lips touch his. Its shy, hesitant but, when Mark's arm tighten around your neck, no words need to be spoken. 

The sweet, innocent, childlike kiss turns desperate in matter of seconds. Your best friend pulls you closer, closer, closer. He catches your leg between his, pushes your chest against his to the point where you can feel his heart hammering.

Lips move in harmony, common rhythm is quickly found and, you whine the moment he pulls away.

“Tell me.”, he breathes out against your lips, it's a desperate plea for something he had been waiting to hear, something he thought he'd never hear. “Say it.”, it's demanding, greedy. You give in easily.

“I'm in love with you.”

There's a weight pulled out of your chest, you'd chant it again and again if you could. You'd scream in if you could, you'd breathe it against his skin.

The brunette pulls you into a bruising kiss, he pours his soul out, hand cupping the back of your neck.

If this is a dream, Mark is determined to not let it go. Using his body at his advantage, positions are reversed, the brunette quickly towards over you. You switched you could turn the light back on but, the colourful lights of the movie dance against his jawline and shine against his wet lips, you decide your best friend looks like a painter's muse.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about you.”, he breathes pretty words against your skin, taking his lips from your mouth to your jaw. It's loving, deep kisses, each to mean something.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about being more to you, wished we were more.”

More, more, more. You want more too, you need more too. You refuse to let go now.

“We can be, we can.”, it's frantic. You cup his face with your hands, bringing him closer. “Spent nights thinking about what we could be.”

It makes flowers bloom in his chest, he isn't able to take his lips away from your skin. The tip of his nose digs in your cheek, he inhales deeply. Oh, how he loves the soap you use.

“What did you see ?”, he asks, lips peppering kisses down your neck, hand gripping your shirt. You're quick to pull it up above your hips. First wanting to completely pull it off your body, it seems the brunette isn't patient enough.

His lips leave your neck to your tummy, butterfly kisses here and there until he stops to your panties.

“Us. Together. Living tog—.”

Your sentence's quickly cut off by your best friend, maybe a lot more now, pressing his tongue flat against the fabric of your panties.

If you weren't aware of how wet you were getting, you sure were now.

“Living together, yeah ?”, he asks, bringing his face closer to yours again right after disregarding his shirt somewhere. There's a few seconds where you pose, shamelessly taking in the men's figure. 

Forehead against yours, his digits run along the line of your underwear. He's as nervous as you are, as shaken up as you are yet, you two have never been more certain of one thing that doesn't need to be said anymore.

Mark bites down on his lip, you almost hear tje mechanism in his head twisting and turning to find the right way to ask you.

You beat him at it anyways, nodding as your arms wrap around his neck.

There's one thing you'll never tell him, you spent night dreaming about a future and other were filled with thoughts of his fingers.

The guitar player had pretty hands, even prettier when they wrapped around the neck of his guitar or when he picked as some strings.

“'was too scared to tell you.”, he says and, you'd tell him you know. You know exactly how it feels, the fear of rejection by the one you've know you're entire life. You'd tell him it doesn't matter now that you now if you could. 

His fingers stop you from articulating right, index and middle finger greedily collecting the wetness between your folds, the brunette doesn't wait much longer before pushing two digits in. 

“I—Mark.”, there it is, a moan of his name that intoxicates Mark more than any other drug. Pupils grow wide, ears greedy to hear more. It's him, him managing to make you moan so softly in the dead of the night, him that has you wrapped around his finger. 

“Fuck, say my name again.”, it's another desperate plea, say his name again so he knows it isn't a vivid dream he's going to wake up from, say his name until it's the only thing rolling out of your tongue. 

You easily oblige when he starts moving his fingers, slowly yet, in a way that quickly had you gasping for air.

There's nothing rough in his actions, expect from the way his teeth gaze at the skin of your neck before softly biting down just to sooth to spot with his tongue afterwards. 

It's agonising, like he wants to make sure he maps out your body to remember it perfectly after tonight. His fingers curl and drag against your walls, he remembers how and where. 

His free hand creeps under your raised shirt, quickly finding your chest as his mouth finds your again. 

There, he catches every sweet sound you make like he doesn't want any body else to hear them, tongue tastes yours as they lazily battle. 

“Shit, baby. Just like that, god.”, when you think Mark couldn't get any better, his fingertips brush against a spot that has your hips raising up, slowly rocking against his hand. 

“Right there ?”, you nod frantically as he does it again and again, lazily fingering you whilst he lets your hips grind against his digits. 

“So fucking pretty.”, it's a murmur once he detaches his lips from your own, wet and red by the exchange. 

It's not the first time Mark calls you pretty but at this very moment, it's different. 

His wrist twist the right way just as he's about to pick the pace up and the familiar feeling grows alongside the flower blooming in your chest as Mark whisperes sweet nothings into your ear. 

He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, it has his cock throbbing in his sweats. Carnal desire to feel you wrapped around him as his fingers speed up until you come undone around them. 

It's a mess of his name and profanities you hope your neighbours aren't hearing. 

“Want more, want you.”, you babble once you come down from your high, sweat collecting around your hairline, chest irregularly raising up and down. 

When Mark seems to take too long to process your words, you take matters into your own hand. 

A moment, Mark struggles to find his words and the other, his back hits the bed with a soft gasp. 

He's quick to raise with his elbows, almost having whiplash when you sit down on his lap after taking off your ruined and soaked panties. 

“Let me help you with that.”, there's a slight shyness in your voice Mark decides he'd die for when your clumsily work on the strings of his grey sweats. 

Unspoken words, soft silence when you look into his eyes and help him push the fabric down his thighs. The air is thick, your heart beats harder and harder, your chest swells when Mark pulls you closer by your hips. 

“I've been in love with you.”, he starts as you raise, lining your core with his hard member, one your eyes lingered on before he opened his mouth. There's a pause, your lips part as to say something when you slowly sit down, but no sound comes from your mouth when Mark's leaking head pushes inside. 

“For so— so fucking long.”, he uses the last bits of air in his lungs to let it out, voice cracking when you sit inch by inch. 

You wonder how you went so long without telling him, telling him you love him feels too good to take it back or ever again. There's a slight part of you wondering where you'd be right now if you told him sooner but you're quick to push it away. 

Both hands cup his face as you bring him closer for a kiss as you fully settle on his lap, though the exchange doesn't last long. There's a beautiful groan coming from the men in front of you just as you moan out from the sensitivity, the fulness. 

Mark's red lips fall open the moment you start moving up and down on him, eyes rolling back the slightest bit like he forces himself to look at you as you ride him. But, when his groans turn into moans, the brunette hides his face in the crook of your neck, arms tightly wrapping around your waist. 

You don't think your can be any closer, chest against chest, your mouth to his ear as he mumbles about how you were made for him. 

Up and down, up and down, your legs start burning but you keep moving on top. 

“Fuck, I love you.”, it slips out when his hips meet yours halfway, not that you can say it, you swear you won't stop doing it at any given occasion. 

Mark answers my sucking on your neck, probably drawing blood as he more boldly snaps his hips against yours. 

You find the same desperation as when he was kissing you, carnal need wanting to be met, he fucks into you just like he means it, switching between deep and slow to fast and short snaps. 

For the second time, you feel it tighten, knot threatening to burst at any moment. If you aren't moaning, your mouth hands silently open and thankfully, Mark can tell you're getting close by the way you're clenching around him. 

“You're doing so good, so so good for me.”, voice almost unrecognisable, the way you can feel every vein and the way he pulse tells you he's as close, if not more.

“Come with me.” 

After years of tuning your body to his voice, it follows the command almost immediately, there's a few seconds where the brunette snaps his hips, slowly, deeply, right before letting a draw out moan against your neck. 

It's the last thing you hear, the way he moans you name breathlessly against your skin before you follow right behind, coming right around him like he hoped so. 

Moans and body against body sound abruptly stop for heavy breathing and soft whines, you blink a few times, forehead against Mark's baked shoulder. 

He smells like the apple shampoo he almost wears, he feels like home when his arms tightly wrap around your body and rock from side to side, almost lolling you to sleep. He feels safe, familiar, comfortable. 

And, right before you fall deep into sleep, you hear him slightly chuckle at his second favourite movie line. 

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[bitchin-beskar]

Royal Affairs - I

A Choice is Made

Rating: T (Will change to M in future chapters)

Warnings: None, for this chapter. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Hey all!! This is a brand new AU that I’ve decided to dive headfirst into!! An anon sent @absurdthirst a message, asking if anyone had written King Din before, and I saw it on my feed, and that inspired this series!! (on the off chance that that anon follows me, if you wanna send me a message or something, I’d be glad to credit you as the inspiration behind this story!) This is an AU story where Mandalore never fell to the Empire, and Din is the King by right of conquest (winning the Darksaber). More of the AU will be explored in the story, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me some asks! I’ll gladly answer what I can, as long as it doesn’t spoil anything!! I wholly blame @mxndoscyarika for being the reason this chapter is out so soon. She is an enabler. (@ollypopp also got to hear a lot of rambles about this au... i’m not sorry). I hope you guys like it!!!!! Please let me know what you guys think!!!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I love hearing what you guys think!!

When you’d gone to bed last night, you certainly weren’t expecting anything monumentous to happen today. Today was supposed to be just another day spent running your little apothecary with your sister, before going to sleep and doing it all over again tomorrow. 

But as you stared down at the small little green alien child hiding behind your counter, you knew that today wasn’t going to go the way you planned. 

“Hey, little one,” you murmured, crouching down, but staying far enough back that he wouldn’t feel trapped by you. “How’d you get in here, huh? Where are your parents?”

He looked up at you with his huge round eyes, his little lip quivering, and your heart broke. 

“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart,” you whispered, holding your hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay–” You were a little thrown off when he waddled straight into your arms, and you instinctively clutched him to your chest. He buried his little face into your tunic and began to cry, little heart-wrenching sobs as his tiny body shook in your arms. 

Standing, you quickly moved to the back room, seeing your sister in the middle of bottling some healing bacta salve. 

“A’denla, can you cover the shop for me?”

She turned, about to ask why when she saw the sobbing child in your arms. You mouthed that you’d explain later, and she just nodded, turning and heading for the counter, leaving you alone in the back with the little one. 

You rocked the little baby back and forth, humming softly as you tried to get him to calm down. You didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children, but you knew enough from helping watch the children of other villagers while they ran their shops when you were younger. 

His tearful cries eventually slowed to little whimpers and hiccups, and you were able to encourage him to detach from your shirt. He rubbed at his eye with his little arm, and you were startled to see a dark green, almost black bruise on his tiny wrist. 

“Who hurt you, little one?” You gently took his hand, inspecting the bruise. He whimpered when you brushed your fingers over his skin. “I bet that hurts something fierce, huh?” 

You take him over to where your sister had the bacta salve out, setting him down gently on the countertop. “Can I use some of this, sweetheart? It’ll help you heal faster.” You’re not sure if he can understand you, but then he takes a long moment to look at the little bottle of blue gel you’re holding before looking up at you, solemnly nodding, his big ears flapping a little with the motion. 

You step away to wash your hands, grabbing a small strip of gauze as well. Dipping your fingers into the salve, you gently brush it over his bruise, your heart twisting every time his little features scrunch up in pain. Once his arm is sufficiently covered, you carefully wrap the gauze around the bruise, securing it with a small clip. 

He looks at his arm before looking back at you, cooing, a wide smile on his face, showing off his baby teeth. His arms raise in the universal sign for “up please!” and you’re unable to deny him, scooping him up in your arms, and cradling him once more to your chest. 

Pressing his face against your skin with a contented sigh, he nuzzles against you for a moment before you feel his breathing begin to even out. “It must be exhausting being so little, huh?” 

You carry him over to the small bassinet you have set up for when you’re watching your brother’s baby girl when he’s busy. The little child fits easily in the small padded space, and you carefully cover him up before stepping back. You have no idea how he got to your shop, and he’s not exactly a race you recognize. Hopefully his parents are somewhere nearby, otherwise you’re going to have a hard time finding them. Although, you’d noticed that his bruises seemed to be in the shape of a hand, and you really didn’t want to place him back into the arms of abusers. 

The tinkling of a bell rang through the shop, signalling the arrival of a customer. You quickly shut the door on the small room with the bassinet, walking towards the counter where your sister is. A’denla isn’t exactly the best with people, and you know she prefers to work in the back, so as soon as you get to the counter, you nudge her away so that she can go back to packaging up products. 

She gives you a grateful smile, ducking into the back as you turn to face two of perhaps the strangest customers you’ve ever met. One is a Rodian, which isn’t necessarily odd in of itself, but usually they tend to stay away from Mandalore. Most Mandalorian’s aren’t exactly known for their tolerance towards other races. The other appears to be human, but you’ve learned to not judge people by their outward appearances.  

“We’re looking for our bounty,” the Rodian grunts in Huttese, and your eyes widen a bit. Bounty hunters. You should’ve known. You’re also surprised that Huttese is the language he chose, especially considering the two main languages on Mandalore were Mando’a and Basic. Luckily for him, you’ve always been a fan of learning different languages, and you understand basic Huttese. “It got away from us. It’s very dangerous. Have you seen it?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What does your bounty look like?”

The other hunter chimes in, this time in Basic. “It’s fifty years old but looks like a child. Some weird green frog-like thing with big ears. It’s incredibly dangerous, and you need to tell us right now if you’ve seen it.”

You manage to school your features, but internally, you’re shocked. Their bounty is the little green child you just patched up and is now sleeping in your back room? And he’s fifty? 

Something about the way the two hunters are acting strikes you as odd, and you make a split second decision. You lie. 

“I’ve not seen any creatures like that,” your voice is smooth and calm, betraying nothing. “But I’ve been in my shop all day. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

For a moment, you think they don’t believe you, but the human quickly nods, grasping his fellow hunter’s arm and tugging him out of your shop. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, sagging a little as the door swung shut. 

You ducked back to the backroom, seeing your sister waiting with her arms crossed. 

“You wanna tell me why you just lied outright to two bounty hunters?” She hissed, eyes flashing. “Do you know how kriffing stupid that was?” 

You stared blankly at her. “Do you really think I’d lie to bounty hunters without a damn good reason?” Your voice was incredulous. “I’m not a di’kut, A’denla.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Alright, what’s the reason then?” 

You sighed, slumping against one of the tables. “They said their bounty is fifty years old, but the little one who came into our shop? He’s a baby A’denla. He may be fifty, but it’s clear he doesn’t age the same as us! What could a baby do to warrant a bounty? He was hurt, and he was hurt badly. He was sobbing and shaking and it’s clear he was terrified. I wasn’t about to hand him over to the bounty hunters who probably hurt him that bad in the first place!”

A’denla looks shocked at your little outburst, before softening slightly. She’s got a soft spot for little kids too, and you know she wouldn’t be okay with handing a child over to bounty hunters. 

“Fine, but if this brings hell down on us, I’m telling buir it was your fault, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed a basket of products, and went back out front to restock the shelves.

***

The little one had slept for a couple of hours, but now he was wide awake, and demanding your attention. You’d done your best to keep him occupied out of sight in case the bounty hunters came back, but so far, the coast had been clear. 

The door suddenly burst open, and Vyshena rushed inside. She owned a shop a couple doors down that sold mechanical parts, so she was a regular, often needing basic medical supplies to patch herself up after being a little too careless with a socket wrench.

“What do you need to–” You started, only to be cut off as Vyshena practically flung herself onto the counter, her grease stained fingers gripping the wood lightly.

“Did you hear?!”

You almost winced at the squeal, and you felt little claws dig into your legs. You looked down, to see the child grasping your leg, his ears drooping as he looked up at you with sorrowful eyes.

“Did I hear what, Vys?”

You bent down to pick up the little one, smoothing one hand over his ear as Vys started in on a rant.

“The King is coming! Apparently his kid went missing and he’s tracking him down! Y’know, he used to be a bounty hunter, so it only makes sense that he’d track his own kid down, apparently there’s a bounty from the Empire on the little guy and–”

You looked up as Vys suddenly stopped, and your brow furrowed as she made a choking sound, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at you.

“And what, Vys?”

Instead of answering, her arm raised shakily, pointing at the little bundle you held on your hip. Her mouth was gaping, and she looked like she was about to pass out.

“Vys, are you alright?”

Her eyes flickered between your face and the kid multiple times before she sucked in a gasp. “WHAT?”

You actually flinched back at her sudden shout, and the kid whimpered, burying his face in your side.

“Vys!”

“I’m sorry, but how do you– where did– HOW DID YOU GET THE KING’S KID??”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“YOU HEARD ME!”

“What is all this racket about– oh, hi Vys.” A’denla came out from the back, her hands full of bottled bacta salve. “What’s going on?”

Vys sputtered, and so you mumbled “Apparently this is the King’s son?” As you gesture to the giggling baby on your hip.

A’denla’s jaw dropped, and she nearly dropped the bacta salve. “Are you kidding me??”

You shook your head, feeling faint, and Vys started laughing hysterically, which got the little one going too. “Not helping,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but smile at how happy the little one looked.

“Maker, what are we gonna do?”

Your sister’s moan was mostly drowned out by the giggling, but you frowned thoughtfully. “Vys, hold him please,” you said, handing her the still laughing child, even as your request caused her to audibly shut her mouth. You rummaged through the drawers behind the counter before you found a spare sheet of paper and a pen. A’denla tried to see what you were doing but you waved her off, writing as fast as you could.

“There,” you muttered, folding up the paper, handing it to Vys in exchange for the kid. “Take this to one of the guards. They should be able to get it to the King quickly enough. It states that his son is safe, and here in the apothecary. We’re gonna close early just as an added precaution.”

Vys nodded, and you turned to A’denla. “I also wrote what I could remember about the two bounty hunters who came in, they’re probably the ones who kidnapped the kid to begin with.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” your sister sighed. “Maker, am I glad you lied to them when they asked about the kiddo.”

“Me too.” You turned back to Vys. “Go, get that to a guard. I’ll wait here.”

Vys nodded shakily, still a little pale, but she dashed out of the shop. A’denla opened her mouth, but closed it again quickly.

“Go on, spit it out.”

She shook her head. “Buir is never gonna believe this.” You snickered, imaging your mother’s face when she found out that the King of Mandalore’s son had wandered into your apothecary.

“You should go home and tell her. I’d hate for her to hear about this from someone else.” A’denla looked worried, but you shook her off. “I’m closing the store anyways. It’s not like I won’t need your help.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yes, go.”

After a little more persuading, A’denla finally left, leaving you and the little one alone in the shop. He was still perched on your hip, and for a moment, you stood in the middle of the store, mind racing.

“I can’t believe you’re actually the King’s son,” you muttered, looking down at the wide-eyed child. “Just my luck, huh?”

He cooed at you, playing with the fabric of your top. Your eyes fell to the gauze wrapped around his arm, and you sighed. “I guess we better check on that, buddy. Make sure you’re healing alright.”

Just like before, he was a good patient, not too squirmy as you carefully unwound the gauze. His bruise was healing nicely, and you carefully applied a little more bacta for good measure, re-wrapping his arm. Right as you were pinning it in place, a loud banging sounded from the front door.

You jumped, hand flying to your chest. Carefully picking the kid up, you made your way to the door, peering through the curtains, eyes widening as you realized just who was standing there.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, stepping to the side to let the odd looking group inside.

You recognized Fennec Shand, a notorious bounty hunter and partner to Boba Fett, who was also a part of the group. Both were known for their close kinship with the King. There was a woman you didn’t recognize, but judging by the small tattoo on her upper cheek, she had ties to the Republic.

Finally, clad in full beskar’gam, was the King. His beskar was unpainted, the silver gleaming in the low light of your shop. He had no shortage of weapons, his spear was strapped to his back, and a blaster and various vibroblades were strapped to his legs. But the most prominent was the Darksaber that hung from his belt.

Dropping into a curtsy, you bowed your head in respect, a quiet “my king,” leaving your lips. You’d heard stories about the King, about his strength and speed in battle, but especially from his time as a bounty hunter. He’d been one of, if not the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, before winning the Darksaber from Maul in a duel, granting him the right to the throne of Mandalore.

Some said he was cruel, terrifying and dangerous, not to mention volatile. You had no way of knowing. He wasn’t one for major public appearances, so knowledge on his true personality was reserved for those closest to him.

There was a tense silence for a moment when suddenly, the child on your hip reached his little arms out towards the King, babbling loudly. He had a large smile on his face and was wriggling desperately to get out of your grasp. 

The King took a step forward, his own hands stretching out towards his son. You carefully handed the child over, your bare hands brushing over the King’s leather gloves as you transferred the little one to his father’s arms. 

“Su’cuy, ad’ika.” 

The King’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he pressed his helmet against the little one’s brow, his hand pressing against the child’s back to hold him close. 

You fold your arms in front of you, absently noting the way that you already miss the comforting weight of the kid on your hip. You look away from the King and his son, not wanting to intrude on their reunion. 

The others seem a little uncomfortable, like you, and thankfully, the woman you don’t know breaks the awkward silence. 

“You said in your note that you had two bounty hunters come looking for him?”

You’re looking at the woman, so you don’t notice the way the King’s head whips in your direction, nor the way his hand falls to rest on the hilt of the Darksaber. 

“Mmhmm, a Rodian and a human.” You pause. “Actually, I’d almost forgotten, we had security cameras installed about a month ago, they should be on the holos.”

“Why bother with security cameras?” Fett cut in, and you were taken aback by the blatant suspicion in his voice. “This isn’t exactly a high crime area.”

You sighed. “We had a break in a couple months ago. Some di’kut took off with half our supply of bacta salve. We’re one of the only apothecaries on Mandalore licensed to make it, and unfortunately, that usually means we have a large stock, and the prices are pretty steep.” 

“You didn’t report it.”

You narrowed your eyes at the accusatory tone. “I figure if someone’s going to go to all that trouble just to steal bacta salve and not even touch the register or safe, they probably needed it. It’s diluted when it’s in a salve, so it can’t be sold on the black market, unlike pure bacta.” 

“What’s this?”

You started at the King’s voice, turning to look in his direction, seeing him inspecting the gauze wrapped around the little one’s arm. You frowned. “The little one had a pretty bad bruise, it was nearly black. I applied some bacta salve and wrapped it. I checked it just before you got here, it looks a lot better.”

“And I suppose you just thought it was okay to–”

“Fett.”

Your eyes widened at the King’s tone, looking away as the green-armoured bounty hunter grumbled, but stayed silent. 

“I’m a licensed medic, and I have been for close to ten years now. I know what I’m doing.” Perhaps your voice was a little defensive, but you weren’t going to apologize for easing the kid’s pain, no matter the opinion of grumpy men in beskar. 

“Thank you.”

You nodded at the King, eyes flicking up to his helmet before looking away, your cheeks growing warm. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but something about the way he seemed to stare directly into your soul, even through the beskar made you feel... odd.

He handed the little one to the woman with the tattoo, before turning back to you. “May I see the holos?”

You nodded again, turning and walking towards the back of the shop, where the holos were stored. It wasn’t a large room, an old refurbished closet really, and it was a bit tight for one person, let alone a second covered in beskar. You opened up the data station and pulled up the holos from earlier, trying to ignore the silent mountain of a man behind you. You could feel his eyes on your back, and you tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine. 

You found the correct timestamp, and enlarged the holovid, pointing to the figures on the screen. “This is when they entered.”

Suddenly, there was a large warm hand on the small of your back as the King stepped up behind you, his other hand coming down to rest on the surface of the table, caging you in as he leaned forward. He was peering over your shoulder, and you inadvertently sucked in a breath at the sudden closeness. 

The two of you watched the footage in silence. Unfortunately, you didn’t have audio to go with the holos, so all the King would have to go off of is the visual. 

“Is there anything distinctive about them that you can remember?” He murmured, the rasp of his helmet’s modulator doing nothing to hide the exquisite way his voice sounded in your ear. 

“Um–” You trailed off, trying to focus, which was especially hard with the King so kriffing close. “Uh, the Rodian? He spoke Huttese.” You could’ve smacked yourself. Of course the Rodian spoke Huttese, it was a common language bounty hunters learned, and Rodian’s were known for speaking it along with their native Rodese. 

The King let out a sigh, and just as you were about to apologize, he thanked you. 

“That– that helps. Thank you, very much.” His hand pressed a little more into your back, and you fought the urge to arch into his touch. You weren’t some child with a crush damn it, you were a village shopkeeper and he was your king. It would be entirely inappropriate, although your traitorous mind was quick to remind you that his touching you could be considered inappropriate as well. 

You told your mind to shut the hell up. 

“You’re welcome, my king.” 

There, that was a perfectly respectable answer. Now all you had to do was avoid embarrassing yourself any further, and–

“Please, darling. Call me Din.”

Well, there went that plan. 

You bit your lip and looked down at the keyboard, hoping that the King–Din, didn’t see your hands tighten at the sound of his voice when he called you darling. 

“Can you give me a copy of these holovids?” 

You nodded, grateful for something, anything to distract you from the peculiar man at your back. Copying the holos onto a drive unfortunately didn’t take very long, and when you turned to hand them to the Ki–Din, your eyes widened when you realized just how close he was to you. Your chests were practically touching, and you had to tilt your head up to be able to look at his helmet, which was aimed directly at you. 

He carefully took the drive, tucking it into one of the pockets on his belt, before stepping back, crossing one arm over his chest and bowing. To you. 

“You’ve done me a great service. I won’t forget it.” 

You swallowed harshly. For a moment, it had sounded like he’d said “I won’t forget you,” although it had to be wishful thinking on your part. He was your King, you were so far removed from royalty it wasn’t even funny. He was just being polite. 

“I’m just glad you were able to reunite with your son. He seems to love you a lot.”

“His name is Grogu. I was blessed with him as my foundling, and I treasure him greatly.”

You smiled. It was clear as day how much the King loved his son, and how the little one returned those feelings tenfold. To be blessed with a foundling was a great honor, and it didn’t surprise you one bit that your King had been blessed in such a way. 

He stepped back to make space for you to leave the small room, and you hurried to where the others were undoubtedly waiting, only just now realizing how long the two of you had been gone.

Fett and Shand were gone by the time you got back to the main floor of your shop. Just the woman and the little one–Grogu–stood their waiting. The King easily plucked Grogu from the woman’s grasp, and with a tight nod, she left your shop as well, leaving you alone with the King and his son. 

He turned back to you, his helmet once more trained on your face. “I must thank you again, for everything.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the gratitude dripping from his words. “It was nothing, my king,” you murmured, curtsying once more. 

As you slowly straightened back up, the King reached out and ever so gently lifted your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. You were forced to look at him, even as the fluttering in your stomach renewed with vigour.

“I’ve already told you, darling. Call me Din.” 

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[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[sheepsquatches]

hello i’m bry welcome to my blog

💐  😊 💞 😊 💞 😊 💞  💐

24, she/they. co-creator of the emporiaverse. i know a lot about ilchester, maryland. wrote the first dean (sam son) fic on ao3. once quoted in insider magazine saying “lesbians love sam winchester.” reluctant john winchester understander.

we bought a zoo (starring the star of supernatural, colin ford) watch count: 5

i make a lot of edits and write fic, i have read all of the spn novels and wrote a reader’s guide about how most of them are bad but some are okay, my tagging system is a mess, if you're blocked 9 times out of 10 i just saw a post or take of yours i was annoyed by and it's not personal, i periodically post about how i got cursed for Real at the lucifer rising ruins

i write a lot of fic, there is a full list below the cut, but here are my favorite things i’ve written:

pyrolysis, 4k words - sam builds pyres. set across seasons 2-15

a light that never goes out, 12k words - john goes to alaska and everything goes wrong, and the boys are alone. dean-perspective, mild mild horror elements

i'll believe you if you make me feel something, 5k words - toxic sexy unhinged obsessive unrequited (kinda) godstiel/soulless sam, s6 au. collab with sophie rootsmachine

considering drinking with molotov, 4.7k words - season 8, sam character study, the trials as chronic illness. tiny bit of samcas that's easily ignored (probably my favorite thing i've written for spn)

masterlist of my spn fic

gen

pyrolysis, 4k words - sam builds pyres. set across seasons 2-15

bones tied up with dental floss, 2.6k words - nonlinear narrative about sam and his relationship to magic, sam & rowena w/ fleeting sam/ruby and sam/eileen

heaven knows how hard i tried, 2k words - sam trying to make sense of what prayer can mean to him post-lucifer rising

the growing is slow (or it cuts to the bone), 1.5k words - early s13. sam and jack both have trouble sleeping. they help each other

it's (supposed to be) a wonderful life, 2k words - s13, working through what apocalypse world means for his own existence

they wither with the wind, they crumble in your hand, 1.4k words - set during 15x19 inherit the earth, sam & jack and dads dying without saying goodbye

a christmas carol (in prose, being a ghost story of palo alto), 5.2k words - stanford era, a christmas carol but it's sam and about him never escaping his destiny! collaboration with sophie rootsmachine

a light that never goes out, 12k words - john goes to alaska and everything goes wrong, and the boys are alone. dean-perspective, mild mild horror elements

held the world for ransom, 1.9k words - soulless sam and mark of cain dean, sometime after s10. pretty dark

considering drinking with molotov, 4.7k words - season 8, sam character study, the trials as chronic illness. tiny bit of samcas that's easily ignored (probably my favorite thing i've written for spn)

samcas

i'll believe you if you make me feel something, 5k words - toxic sexy unhinged obsessive unrequited (kinda) godstiel/soulless sam, s6 au. another collab with rootsmachine >:)

stretch out and wait, 1.5k words - sam's reminded of the first time he prayed to castiel, almost a year before meeting the angel. turns out he answered

hear it just enough to keep you alive, 2,1k words - set between s9 and s10, sam and cas follow a lead on dean and talk about celine dion (and other things) 

the patron saint of silent restraint, 7.5k words (2/4 chapters) - s11 au where dean disappears and another sam shows up, this one without his soul. (on break)

iron out the edges of the darkest sky, 1.4k words - set during 13x6, sam and cas reconnecting in the library and talking about jack and fatherhood

i need redemption, for sins i can't mention, 2.4k words - s5 pre-slash, after the song remains the same sam's not sure he was worth the trouble of saving

how dare you want more, 4.2k words - sam-centric vignettes set between 13x22 and 13x23. established samcas, brothers :), and sam & jack bonding

samruby

lord, touch me with lightning, 1.5k words - sam & ruby drive to ilchester

emporiaverse (me and @rootsmachine's post-finale series where sam moves to emporia, kansas, and gets a degree in library science)

what's worth saving (is never worth letting go to waste), 2.8k words - nonlinear post-canon, houses and homes and the bunker. (fun fact: this was the first fic on ao3 to use the dean jr tag bc i went insane when writing it!)

half-light, jack-knife, 10k words - sam is 52 and his son is 16 when he gets a phone call from max banes. half a case fic, half a study on loss and moving on

[darkisrising]

Bobadinluke, 37?

Ooooooooooh, Anon. Dear, sweet sweet Anon. You have NO idea how overboard I went on this, lolol. Thank you for the prompt, I hope when you read this next 4k+ words you won't regret it too much. Disclaimer: All I know about prison I learned by watching Oz back in the day. Full whump in this one, and threats of sexual assault though none actually occur. Some character death, some mentions of transactional sex... lottttttta cursing. Yeah, just, if you decide to read this one please proceed with caution. 37. meeting in prison au, BobaDinLuke

“First thing you do when you get to prison,” Anakin Skywalker whispered into his son’s ear as he held him so tightly Luke couldn’t draw in a deep enough breath, though maybe that was just the panic setting in. “You find the leader of the Sith in there and tell him Darth Vader said to take care of you. He goes by Maul. He’ll keep you safe.”

In answer, Luke hissed “Fuck you, you fucking bastard” and sincerely meant every word of it. When the guards pulled them apart to lead Luke away—the irons around his ankles clattering ominously—it was a relief. For a father that had thrown him and his sister by the wayside as they were growing up, leaving them to be raised by distant and dubiously-related relations, he sure had decided to make himself suspiciously present in the courtroom ever since he’d framed his only son for murder.

“Don’t be proud, Luke,” Anakin called out, his voice cutting through the courtroom’s chatter. “You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

Luke’s tempted to throw another “fuck you” over his shoulder but then he caught sight of Leia, clutching her tiny lump of a newborn son in her lap. Her eyes were as close to crying as he’d ever seen his sister get and that’s when it all came crashing down on him. That this moment, which some stupid, fragile part of him had thought would never really come to pass, had happened. He’d held on to hope that someone—some jurist— would listen to all the damning witness testimonies and look at all the gruesome crime scene photos and then look at Luke—pacifist, Prius-driving, yoga teacher Luke—and think “No, it couldn’t possibly have been him.” He had a rescue dog, for fuck’s sake. He’d gotten Artoo from the no-kill shelter that he volunteered at between shifts at the local food pantry.

How the fuck could they ever believe him guilty of murder?

But Anakin Skywalker, leader of the Sith crime syndicate—second only to the so-called Emperor whose identity was a mystery to all but his most trusted underling—was good at what he did. If he wanted to kill a district attorney, he killed a district attorney. If he wanted to pin it on his son to keep his own ass out of prison, then that’s what he did. And then if he showed up every single goddamn day to Luke’s trial, sitting there just behind his son so that no one could help but notice the resemblance between the two of them—couldn’t help but speculate at how close they must be for his father to be taking such a personal interest in his son’s trial—until a person decided that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the rotten, mafia-laden tree?

Well, then; he did that, too.

Guilty on all counts. Seven life sentences to be served consecutively. One hundred and five years without the possibility of parole, and Luke knows as soon as the van pulls up to the prison gates and he’s shuffled out along with all his fellow offenders deemed too dangerous to society for anything but the most maximum of maximum security prisons, that he is going to die here.

As it turns out he doesn’t have to go looking for the Sith. Word of his arrival has preceded him and he turns from placing the blanket and pillow he’s been assigned onto the bunk he’s been assigned to see he’s been followed.

“Hey, you Vader’s kid?”

There are two men lingering by his cell’s opening and Luke doesn’t need to ask who they are to know what they are. They have that same glint in their eyes, rabid fanaticism and zero fucks to give, that mark all the Sith that Luke has had the displeasure of knowing in his life.

“No,” Luke says as mildly as he can manage before turning his back on them to pluck at his blanket under the guise of making his bed. His hands are shaking, his anger at his father is like runoff from a melting mountain snow, and he takes deep, careful breaths to try to staunch the torrent. He’d kill for a yoga mat and a dim room right about now, but he doubts that’s in the cards for him anytime soon.

“Aren’t you Skywalker?”

“I am,” Luke allows. “But I’m afraid my father’s name is Anakin. Not Vader.”

“Oh, come on,” one says, standing close enough that Luke can smell that his clothes are fresh from the dryer. It’s an industrial smell and utterly impersonal. “We both know who Anakin Skywalker really is. Maul wants to see you.”

“I’m afraid Maul is just going to have to be disappointed, then, because I don’t want to see him.”

“I think you’re going to want to,” the other one says, flanking Luke’s other side and he’s suddenly very aware of how small this cell is, especially with three bodies in it. “Pretty blond kid like you? Lots of ways you can end up hurt, you know what I’m saying? You’re going to need someone to protect you while you’re here.”

“I can protect myself.”

They only laugh, like they both know things that he doesn’t, but they don’t press the matter any further. Luke finds out the next day they were right to laugh. Maybe Luke had taken enough martial arts classes as a kid—from a sensei teaching out of a strip mall that was so wizened and stooped that he wasn't much taller than the children he instructed— to think he knows something about something. As he lays on the floor of the prison’s basketball court with the taste of his own blood leaking through his clenched teeth, a bribed guard smirking near the closed door as six men pummel him with fists and feet, Luke quickly learns how little he knows about anything. When one stomps on his wrist Luke doesn’t even scream, the pain is so white hot he can only cling to consciousness for one bright, all-encompassing moment before everything fades to black. The last words he hears before he’s gone are “Tell Darth Vader that the Tuskens send their regards,” and then: nothingness.

When he wakes up in the medical ward there is a cast on his arm and a man staring down at him. He's wearing the khaki pants and button up shirt of a prisoner. Tattoos spill across his face, down his neck, and continue again along his exposed forearms and for a moment Luke wonders if he’s the only one that can see this fearsome creature of a man for all that the nurses and guards and other prisoners are ignoring him.

“Still think you don’t need my protection, young Skywalker?”

Maul. It has to be.

Luke has to clear his throat before it’s any use to him but eventually he’s able to get out “Dunno why I’d need it. ‘M doing great.”

Maul grins and a mouthful of sharp teeth glint in the stale, fluorescent light. “Yeah? Well let’s see how long that lasts. Your daddy says I’m not supposed to raise a finger to help you until you pledge loyalty to the Sith.”

Luke’s heart kicks over as a chill spreads across his skin. So that’s what all of this has been about. For years his father had tried to get Luke to join him, to serve the Emperor just as he did, and now—what?—Anakin thought he could force Luke’s hand? That he could manipulate him into a situation where he’d have no choice but to swear his allegiance to the darkness Luke has tried so hard to exorcise from his life?

“That’s never going to happen,” Luke says and Maul only pats Luke’s ankle, a parody of comfort.

“Oh, it will, young Skywalker. The only question is how much pain are you willing to bear before you do? There are a lot of men in here that hate your father. I’m sure one of them will convince you that you need our protection.”

Maul isn’t wrong. In his first month in prison Luke becomes intimately aware of the intricacies of his cell block’s various factions and all the ways that Darth Vader has, one way or another, fucked over each and every one of them. He learns it in the cafeteria, where he’s jumped in line to get his food, and in the gym, where he’s pinned down by steel between the weight racks, and in the library, where he’s caught somewhere between the dictionary and the encyclopedias. He almost learns it in the showers when the leader of the Hutts has him dragged to his knees but that was blessedly interrupted by a CO actually doing his job for once.

Jabba watches him go, thick tongue licking across even thicker lips, and Luke knows his time is running out. He’s going to need to find a protector and quick.

***

The one respite he's found in this hellish existence are to be found at night. His cellmate, an old man with a white beard that everyone else calls “Crazy Old Ben,” is a lifer who is less interested in Luke’s body and more concerned with his soul. Together they meditate, sitting on the cold concrete floor and tuning their breaths until Luke can pretend not to hear the sounds of quiet violence and even quieter pleasure in the almost-dark prison.

Old Ben takes Luke under his wing until the day Luke comes back from a shower to find no trace of Ben save for the ratty old bathrobe he always wears. It’s crumpled into a heap on the otherwise pristine cell floor, like he had been in it and then, suddenly, was gone.

When the blaring sirens and red flashing lights and screaming of the guards call for a lockdown, Luke knows, he knows, he knows whose body has been discovered. And when, from across the hall through bars of his own, Maul catches his eye and smirks, Luke knows who ordered the hit on the only friend Luke had found in this God forsaken place.

***

Somehow the warden talks Luke into leading a yoga class for his fellow inmates. It's bullshit, of course; no one ever shows up. But it is nice to have space enough to move the way he wants to without risking someone stepping on his throat while he's down in Shavasana or taking his downward facing dog as an invitation for something he’s not interested in offering.

One day he’s startled to find a man he's never noticed before waiting for his arrival. He’s flanked by two that Luke has had plenty of run-ins with already to know they run with the Mando gang and Luke balks when he catches sight of Vizsla but for once there’s no smirking taunts to be had from him. He stares sightlessly ahead, chin raised, as if at attention and that more than anything makes Luke look back at the unknown man again.

He’s handsome: with sad, dark eyes and a scruffy appearance that somewhat distracts from the fact that his prison uniform is wrapped tight around a body that’s been whittled lean with muscles. He has a smattering of scars, remnants of violence that cut across his arms and hands, and if he’s there to beat Luke up he certainly doesn’t act like it when he extends his hand politely.

"I'm Din," he says in a careful, unassuming voice and Luke warily takes his hand, giving his name in return. “I understand you’re running a yoga class here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Luke says, glancing at Vizsla again and wetting his lips. “But, um, if you need the room it’s yours. No one ever shows and so I can clear out—”

“I’m here to take the class.”

“Oh,” Luke says, mouth running before his mind has caught up but what else if new? “Oh, well, that’s great. Let me get you set up with a mat. Are your, your—” he casts about for the right words. “—friends? Going to be joining us?”

Vizsla snorts. “Hell no, Skywalker. We’re just here to make sure nothing happens to the Manda’lor.”

It takes everything in Luke to simply nod and turn to the pile of mats to find one that isn't reeking of sweat and mold from being shoved into storage dirty. To not gawk at the doe-eyed man who even Luke, who prides himself on knowing nothing about his father's world, knows rules over all the Mandalorians, both inside and outside the prison. The one man that not even Anakin Skywalker will fuck with.

"I have a son," Din explains with a shrug when the class is over and Luke has been rendered suitably impressed with the fluid grace with which the fearsome Mandalorian gang leader had moved through every pose, his body made for movement and honed by battle. "The people that are watching him for me say there's this lady on YouTube that teaches kids yoga that he’s gotten really into. I just thought if I tried it it could almost be like we were, well," he shrugs again like whatever he's about to say is too unbearably personal and despite himself Luke finds it utterly charming.

Luke smiles, asking "How old is he?"

"Five."

"Well, if he’s anything like his dad then he must be a natural at yoga, too."

Din's lips quirk in a smile and something complicated in Luke’s belly curls at the sight. Or maybe it's not so complicated, Luke considers as he watched the Mand’alor leave with his guards. Luke can recognize a burgeoning crush when he feels it. He floats through his shift in the kitchen, contentedly lost in his memory of the other man, until he's brought back to reality when he takes a punch to the side of his head.

"Watch what you're doing, Skywalker. Hate for you to get hurt when you've got your head in the clouds, " the inmate supervisor calls out and Luke can only nod as he ignores the pain from his jostled skull and gets back to work.

Luke keeps his crush to himself, and would avoid Din completely if not for the fact that folks are remarkably less inclined to punch him in the face whenever he’s in the Manda’lor’s company and so he tries to be as close to him as often as he can. It’s strategic, Luke tells himself, as he asks Din if he has any pictures of his son and coos over a kid with giant eyes who is triumphantly holding up two bright pink Easter eggs. The more Din likes him, the better his chances when he finally works up the courage to officially ask for his protection. He knows he doesn’t have much to offer in return, but by now Luke knows the transactional nature of prison. His body is a hot commodity and he’s perfectly willing to give Din exclusive use of his ass and mouth if it keeps him alive.

He ignores the thrill of excitement that the thought of sex with Din inevitably brings.

So Luke flirts, flickering little touches here and leaning in closer there, hoping that eventually things will progress naturally. They don’t, but that’s okay because Luke is nothing if not persistent. He has full faith in his ability to work the cute twink angle. Lord knows he did it enough when he was on the outside and had far less to lose.

And it works. Sort of. Din doesn’t seem to notice that Luke drifts along in his orbit after morning yoga classes, sometimes well into the evening and as close to lights out as he dares. The reason why he doesn’t make a move on Luke becomes painfully, achingly, mortifyingly clear the morning Luke enters the meeting-come-yoga room to find Din in a passionate kiss with someone Luke’s never seen before.

He should have known something was different when there had been no Mandalorians posted by the door but this. This. This is. It’s—

The man whose mouth Din is trying to crawl into is built like a shit brick house, all thick muscles and big dick energy as he holds Din by the jaw and their teeth clack so hard that Luke can feel the echo in his own mouth. When he tears away to fix Luke with a stare, he can see that this man’s been so scuffed by life that even his scars have scars and when he speaks it is with a deep, gravel voice that shivers across Luke’s skin.

“You must be Luke,” he says, as if he hadn’t just been caught making out in a dark room. Like Luke can’t see his raging hard-on through his prison-issued pants.

With a calming breath Luke grasps desperately for his most enlightened and peaceful tone as he replies. “I am. Will you be joining us for class, Mister….”

“Fett. Boba Fett. And no fucking way. I’m just here to stand in the corner and enjoy the view.” He smirks at Din who answers with a smile that’s absolutely smitten and Luke can feel his heart jump into his throat before plummeting into his stomach.

“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.”

When the class is over Luke lingers in the room, taking his sweet time rolling up the mats. As he follows Boba out, Din turns to look back at Luke with a confused expression. “Aren’t you coming?”

“No, no, you go on ahead. I’ve got things to do.” Din’s eyebrow raises and Luke can concede that maybe his voice was a little high, a little pinched, but Din doesn’t press the issue. He only shrugs and tells Luke “Well, you know where to find me” before he’s out into the hall.

Luke doesn’t need to go in search of information on Boba Fett. It’s drifting through the filtered prison air wherever he goes. His re-incarceration is all anyone can talk about, starting from his offense—knocked over a grocery store and killed the clerk, if you can believe that stupid shit—and wild guesses as to why he would have gotten caught doing something so petty when he’d finally been paroled—probably just missed his husband, you know how stupid those two are for each other.

“Guess you got tossed to the curb, huh, Skywalker?” Jabba says when they are working the food service line and Luke is very carefully keeping his eyes from looking at where Din is sitting, trying to eat between laughs as Boba crowds so close he’s practically in the Manda’lor’s lap. “Tough break. You know the offer still stands if you want a new cock to suck.”

Telling the Hutt what exactly he can do with his cock and precisely how his mother might like it might give him a surge of soaring adrenaline for the moment but he quickly sees the error of his ways when it’s time to clean up and he’s shoved into the industrial freezer next to all the rows of Hoth Farms Vegetables.

By the time he’s found he’s pretty much stopped shivering which doesn’t seem like a good sign. The doctors in the medical ward seem to agree, at least as far as Luke can tell by all their scrambling activity when he’s wheeled in, barely clinging to consciousness.

***

“That was remarkably stupid,” a melodious voice says a week later.

Luke has been able to cling to lucidity well enough that he’s been sent back to gen pop, for all that he keeps to his bunk and can’t seem to stay awake for longer than a few hours. Shockingly no one has been by to harass him in his weakened state but his luck has finally run out. There is a mountain of a man leaning in his cell’s doorway, and Luke can’t even find the energy to be nervous by the way Boba Fett’s dark eyes are narrowly assessing him.

“I excel at stupid.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that from what I’ve been hearing about you. Son to one of the scariest sons of bitches around and yet you refuse to join up with your old man’s gang. Instead you prefer to get the shit kicked out of you like you're just another prison bitch.”

“Yep, that’s me alright,” Luke says with false cheer as he struggles to sit up.

“Word also has it that you’ve been following my husband around like a bitch in heat.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Listen, Fett—”

“Now I don’t begrudge you a little schoolboy crush. Din is a hot piece of ass. And I haven’t exactly been around so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt here that you didn’t know that he was otherwise engaged.”

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”

“Okay. Good. That’s that.” Fett nods at him, but he doesn’t move from where he stands, still watching Luke. Still taking his measure.

“Does, uh,” Luke’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, a nervous gesture that Fett’s eyes watch sharp as knives. “Does Din know that I—” and he can’t bring himself to say anything more about it.

Fett snorts a laugh. “Din is clueless about just about everything but fighting and fucking. He doesn’t even know whose kid you are. I’d be very surprised to hear he was able to figure out for himself that you’re in love with him.”

“Ah. Okay, well that’s,” Luke stops when the ache in his chest tightens so abruptly he can hardly breathe. Still, he forces out a bleak: “That’s good.”

“It is. Take care of yourself, Skywalker.”

***

There seems little point in fighting against the inevitable after that. If his father thought prison was going to break him, then he’d thought right. He takes a month of beatings without so much as lifting a finger to protect himself. His face is in a perpetual state of bruises but he hardly notices for all that it feels like he’s floating, like he’s becoming one with some great higher power and one day he might just fade away entirely.

Fett is usually there in the periphery—watching, always watching—and Din’s eyebrows furrow every morning when he catches sight of some new mark, some swollen finger, some hastily bandaged scape.

“What’s going on?” he asks and it seems like Fett was right, Din really is that unobservant if he doesn’t see how often Luke is made to bear marks in answer for the sins of his father.

Luke plants a sunny smile on his aching face while Fett watches them from the corner of the room, arms crossed and face twisted in a scowl. “Not much. Same old same old. Shall we begin with our Ohms?”

***

He’s spitting blood down the drain after another ambush that leaves him splayed on the slippery communal shower floor when Fett finally confronts him.

“What the fuck are you playing at? You’re a dead man walking, Skywalker. Quit being stupid and go to Maul. Get his protection.”

“Never,” Luke grinds out with more vehemence than he’s felt in a long time. “I’ll never join the Sith.”

“Why not?”

“Like you care,” he says, reaching for a washcloth to finish the shower that had been unavoidably interrupted. Fett gets to it first and he holds it aloft and out of Luke’s reach unless he wants to strain his ribs that have seen better days.

“You got some kind of Daddy issues or something? That why you won’t become a Sith?”

“Hey, fuck you, Fett,” Luke says and he waits for Fett’s first punch but it never comes.

“Come here,” he says instead, his head tilting curiously. Luke doesn’t move and Fett rolls his eyes. “Come here, don’t look at me like I’m about to eat you.”

A washcloth wielded by a surprisingly gentle hand dabs at Luke’s face. He holds perfectly still under the ministrations while Boba leans in closer. “You’ve got gett'se, that’s for sure.”

“Like I know what that means.” Luke’s tone is bratty and rather than take offense, Fett smiles.

“Gett'se. Guts. Courage. Going to need to learn Mando’a if you’re going to be joining me and Din for the foreseeable future.”

“What?” Luke asks, eyes wide, and Fett doesn’t answer. Not in words.

The distance between them disappears as Fett presses his plush lips to Luke’s bleeding ones. He’s careful, so careful in his kiss and it shatters something vital in Luke. Tears are burning his eyes, biting at his nose, by the time Fett pulls away. “You’re breaking Din’s heart, the way you’ve been carrying on, cyar'ika. And that’s been breaking mine. So why don’t you do us all a favor and come be ours for a little while. If you hate it, we can set you up with someone else, but I have the feeling you’re going to like it just fine. What do you say?”

Luke can’t speak through the tightness of his throat, through the spilling of his tears of relief, and when Fett kisses him again, and again, and again, each time it’s like he’s someone worth caring about. Someone that matters.

Fett—Boba—turns on the shower and leads him under the spray, washing his hair and his skin. “Shouldn’t I be doing that for you?” Luke asks quietly and Boba laughs.

“Sure. Soon as you can lift your arms higher than your shoulders you're free to do anything you want to my body. Until then let me wash your fucking hair, alright? Gotta make you pretty for Din, yeah?"

He rests his forehead against the immense, solid expanse of Boba’s wet chest and for the first time in a long time he feels safe enough to close his eyes somewhere that isn’t his locked cell.

When the guards— who had fucked off to wherever the hell they’d been bribed to go while Luke took maybe his last beating ever—finally show up and yell at them to break it up, Luke isn’t even mad about it because Boba is tossing him a towel and telling him to hurry up and dry off. Din is waiting for them.

[hoebii]

Like me better

Pairing : Park Jimin x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Highschool!Au, e2l, rivals

Rating : PG13

Warning : ‘Curse’ words are mentioned (is ‘shit’ even a curse word fhgjv), OC wanting to choke Jimin and not in the kinky way, brief mention of Jimin being a playboy thot, hating on mint chocolate because it’s the worst flavour to exist you can fight me on this

Wc : 4k

A/N : Alright, this was originally supposed to be a birthday drabble but it got a little out of hand as you can see. We had a whole lot planned for this fic but it got too long oops- so we decided to cut it short and keep the ending open huhu. Happiest birthday to our precious maknae @heejinnien​ from @xiaokoo​ (who also made this AMAZING banner btw) and I. Hope you like your present baby! We love you so so so much~<3 Also this isn’t as edited as I’d like it to be but I got impatient okay don’t @ me :<

----------------

The bustling crowd of students bumped into you repeatedly as you weaved through them to get to class. You kept a strong grip on your books so as to not drop them. People squeezed passed as you tried not to trip and fall flat on your face. You had slept through your alarms and were currently rushing to your class, cursing at yourself for this blunder in your head. 

“Sorry, excuse me, oh shit!” You catch yourself as you tumbled to the ground. Your books splay across the floor as you winced at the sore feeling. Hopefully, no one would step on you or your books - you had paid good money for them!-. As for tripping over, you looked over your shoulder, glaring when you caught sight of a group of boys laughing. 

“Aw is little princess hurt?~” You heard one of them call out, the others snickering in the background. You ignored them and started gathering all your books, telling yourself they weren’t worth the trouble. You were almost done picking up all the books on the ground when one was suddenly snatched from your grasp. Looking up at the culprit you see Park Jimin, the bane of your existence, holding it up.

“Are you sure you even need books?” He snickers, flicking through it. “You’re not even smart, why bother studying if it doesn’t do you any good?” 

You feel your blood boil. How dare he?! You were smarter than him in every possible way. He had no right to mock you, sure he was smart but you always placed second. If there was one thing you hated, it was being second best to Park Jimin. 

“You’ll just come second like always.” 

That comment hit you hard. You tried to keep your cool, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Sure, Jimin was annoying but there was no way you were going to create a scene because of it. Not again. Instead, you rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore him and walked away. There would be no reason to argue with a dumbass. Why waste your time?

Jimin watched as you walked away. He smirked to himself. Despite acting calm, he’d known you long enough to know that you were fuming inside. There were buttons he knew how to push to get the reaction he wanted and he thoroughly enjoyed provoking you. 

--------

You stumbled into the classroom, panting from the light jog. “Damn I need to get back in shape, Jesus Christ.” you whispered to yourself. 

“Miss Y/L/N, care to explain why you’re five minutes late to the class?” Your professor’s voice boomed in the small classroom. You look at him, giving him a sheepish smile as you rub your neck. 

“I… got lost…?” 

What was that?! You wanted to smack yourself at your own words. So much for your perfect attendance. 

“You got lost?”

“Y...es…”

Your professor took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just, just go to your seat.”

You scurried to your seat, setting down your books and sitting down. You heard snickering from beside you and you turned your head slightly towards the sound to see none other than Park Jimin laughing at you. Feeling your face flush in embarrassment, you turned towards your professor and started jotting down notes. You were not going to get riled up by Jimin during a class. 

-----------

It’s official. Life hates you. You must have been some sort of a witch in your last life who thrived by torturing others. That had to be it. Why else would you ever get partnered with Park freaking Jimin for your science project?! Apparently, the professor had said it was because you two were ‘top students that will compliment each other well’. But you’re certain it was actually because she hated you and you must have tortured her or something in your past life and this was her way of getting revenge. You’re pretty sure you came up with at least 7 ways to end Park Jimin in the time he took to move his seat closer to you for ‘discussing details about the project.’ 

“So you’re gonna draw the diagram and write everything,” Jimin started as soon as he sat down. He dumped his bags to one corner taking out the necessities. “I will be supervising you as I’m clearly the better one here.”

Oh how much you craved to just lean forward and wrap your fingers around his neck and choke him. How can a person be this insufferable? You could just shove a damn pen up his- 

“Alright class dismissed! Remember, the deadline is on Monday next week! Have a nice weekend.” Your professor announced, snapping you out of your thoughts.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, don’t screw up the project.” 

With that Jimin left you sitting there fuming at him. You let out a tired sigh and begin packing up to leave too, mind running wild. Why couldn’t Jimin just be a good person for once?

-------------

The weekend seemed to go by in a flash, just you working on the project with Jimin, who had surprisingly been quite helpful. Just when you thought he had a heart, he had said it was ‘so you don’t ruin my grades.’ Yeah nevermind he still sucks.

What you didn’t know was Jimin being nice - well as nice as a jerk can get anyway - was because he had a bet to win. One of the boys had proposed a bet after class when he caught Jimin bickering with you yet again. The bet was simple really, ask you out and date you for a while before leaving you. Jimin had refused at first but then everyone started taunting him. Who liked getting mocked? No one. It was plain simple anyways, no one would actually get hurt, wasn’t like you liked him. So he accepted.

It wasn’t easy to catch your attention, given the fact the both of you were mortal enemies, it was near impossible. He did everything in his power so you would look at him but all tactics had somehow managed to flop. There was only one other way of actually getting you to notice him and that was annoying you. However, that would ruin the whole point of the bet. 

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.” Jimin chanted as he poked you on the cheek incessantly. “Y/n pay attention to meeee.” He continued to whine. 

You felt your right eye twitch. Why was this dumbass bothering you?! There was no reason for him to even be five feet close to you. 

“What is it Jimin?” You turn to him, a sickly sweet smile on your face. “What is so important that you’re trying to talk to me?”

Jimin grinned, his eyes turning into crescents as he poked his cheek and gave a wink. “Hi~ How are you doing?”  

Is he for real right now? Did he think he was cute? You felt like throwing up. “Park what are you up to? You never act,” you started, eyes squinting in suspicion, “like whatever you’re doing right now.” 

Jimin gasped and placed a hand on his chest as if in pain before exclaiming, “What?! Me? Up to something? Impossible, I’m as innocent as an angel.” 

An angel? More like a devil. There was no way he was telling the truth. You’d known him long enough and not once in your life had he treated you with such...whatever that emotion was.

“Right. An angel. Okay.” You nodded.

“Do you not believe me? You can ask anyone on this campus and they would tell you how amazing I am.” He gestured his hands wildly. 

You scoffed at that, of course they would, he had slept with the majority and had the remaining wrapped around his tiny fingers. Plus, no one wanted to cross Park Jimin. He ruled the campus and everyone knew it. 

“Listen, just get to the point. I don’t have time for this nonsense.” You said, rolling your eyes and huffing. You had to get to your next class in about five minutes. There was no way you were going to be late because some idiot was bothering you. 

“Go on a date with me.”

You choked on air at that, did you hear that right? “E-excuse me what?!”

Jimin shrugged and crossed his hands, flexing slightly, “You heard me, go on a date with me this weekend. Heard there's a new ice cream shop here, we could go there.” 

“You want to take me on a date?” You look at him skeptically. Was this a test? Were you being filmed? “You’re joking.”

“No.” He fixed you with a stare. “I’m serious. One date, if you don’t enjoy that one date, I promise I won't bother you ever again.”

You stood there staring at him, alarm bells ringing in your head. This can’t be real. He’s lying. “You? Never bothering me ever again? That’s like saying you don’t sleep with everyone you meet.”

“I didn’t sleep with you.”

“That’s different!” You exclaimed, face flushing. “You hate me!”

Jimin tilted his head, his nose scrunching up. “I never said I hate you.” You open your mouth ready to retaliate. “You simply assumed I did, my actions don’t mean anything unless I say something.”

You stood speechless. There had to be one occasion where he had stated he hated you. One. You searched your brain. Sure enough there was no such memory. 

Not wanting to lose to Jimin nonetheless you stomped your feet and said, “Yeah well that makes no sense! Haven’t you heard ‘actions speak louder than words’? I thought you were smart” You tsked, shaking your head as if you were disappointed.

“But I’m standing here asking you out, I’m sure that counters all the things I’ve done to you.” He gives you a sly smirk, one you’re all too familiar with. “There’s really two options Y/n. One’s yes and the other is...yes. Which one do you choose?”

If you could you would have burned him to a crisp with your glare. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been gifted with laser vision like superman. It would have been quite a gift if you had. Imagine how peaceful life would be without Park Jimin judging your every move. Then again, you would miss him. Wait what?! You shook your head to clear your mind before looking at Jimin.

“No.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as he spluttered. “W-what do you mean no?!”

“N-O. No. Don’t tell me you forgot basic english.”

Jimin clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at you. No one had ever turned him down. Whatever Park Jimin wants he gets. Right now he wants you. 

“Why not?” 

You gave him a look. “Well, it isn’t exactly a secret that you sleep with anything that has two legs. I don't even know why you’re asking me out, you never go on dates.”

“That's because you’re different.”

You scoff. “Listen Park, this isn’t some shitty rom com that you can charm your way to my heart, this is reality and I’m smart enough to realise how much of a jerk you actually are.”

Words seemed to die in Jimin’s throat. A jerk?! Sure, he annoyed you but he didn't think he deserved the title of a jerk. If it wasn’t for that stupid bet he wouldn’t even be asking you out. There was no reason why you couldn’t go on just one date with him. It wasn’t as if he was asking you to juggle swords and then swallow them. Besides, Jimin was a very attractive person and he knew it too. What’s so bad about going out with him? You should feel blessed he was even asking you out in the first place!

“Just say yes already woman. One date won’t kill you,” Jimin groaned out, throwing his head back in frustration.

“One date with you will.”

You stared at each other, no one making a single move. The silence stretched on for a moment before Jimin sighed loudly and ran a hand through this hair. 

“Come on!”

“No”

“...Please?” Jimin couldn’t believe he had to beg. He never begs! The things he does for a stupid bet.

Rolling your eyes at Jimin, you sigh, “Fine. We can go there this Saturday.”

“I begged, why won’t you just accep--” Jimin started before cutting himself off, “Oh you said yes. Um, well, yeah ok.” He mumbled, trying to fix his composure. “Yeah see you there or something. Bye,” and with that he walked away, leaving you both amused and confused… and also late for class! Damn Park Jimin.

-----------

You stood in front of the ice cream shop waiting for Jimin to show up. He was late, but then again what were you expecting anyway? You rolled your eyes as you looked around, “If he doesn’t show up in the next minute, I’m leaving.” you mumbled to yourself, checking your watch for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

“Y/n!” A voice shouted from behind causing you to turn around. Jimin ran towards you, panting slightly. “Sorry, I had to run all the way here.”

“Did you forget about the date or were you just being a jerk and were late intentionally?”

His face flushed pink, avoiding your gaze. “I might have forgotten but that wasn’t completely my fault, I just lost track of time.”

“Yeah whatever.” 

Jimin went to hold open the door for you but you beat him to it, opening it for yourself and slamming it in his face. He held back the urge to leave right there. A bet needed to be completed. He followed you inside trying to strike a conversation with you, trying to get just a crack of a smile.

“So Y/n, how’s your day?” Jimin asked, giving you a sweet smile that would have anyone swooning but it had no effect on you. 

“It would be good if the one who asked me out on a date came on time.” You didn’t look at him, instead you were staring intently at the menu. 

Jimin bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something he would regret, giving you a tight lipped smile. “I’m sure your date regrets being late.” ‘And asking you out in the first place’ Jimin thought the last part but didn’t say out loud.

“Doubt it.” You shrugged. 

Jimin knew what you were doing. You were specifically trying to provoke him, there was no way that he would ask you out on a date voluntarily. You were trying to gouge out any secrets he was hiding. His job, obviously, was to try and not let you find out those secrets. There was no way you were going to cooperate if he told you about the bet. 

The two of you knew each other since you were both babies, your mothers knew each other and would always coo at ‘how cute these two will look together.’ Unfortunately for them though, since you were both young the two of you had some sort of competition going on. Didn't matter if it was who was smarter, who was faster or who could fit the most grapes in their mouth, the both of you were always competing. 

As you both grew older the bickering turned into bullying on his part. In truth, you actually didn't know what started this long feud, all you remembered was one day when you were five an annoying boy yanked your hair so hard that a few strands had come out. Annoying boy turned out to be Park Jimin and the two of you haven’t stopped arguing since. 

“What flavour are you getting?” Jimin peered over your shoulder. He looked at you expectedly. “I’ve already chosen mine, so it’s just up to you and I’ll pay.” He holds his wallet out. 

“Vanilla.” You said plainly.

“What?!” 

You turn to face Jimin, frowning. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

He makes a face. “Y/n, it’s so boring, like you no doubt.” The last part had slipped out accidentally and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. That was it. You were going to scream at him and he would lose the bet.

Instead, you ignored his comment fixing your gaze back onto the menu. “What do you think I should get then? I’ll give you the choice, assuming you don’t pick a disgusting flavour like mint chocolate chip, I’ll be fine.” 

Sure, it was a stupid decision giving Jimin the power to pick what you were going to eat, but what could go wrong? Worst case scenario, you didn't like the flavour and he would be forced to go get a new one, which would cost him more money. It’s a win win. 

“You’re giving me the freedom to pick what flavour you’re having?” Jimin asked, making sure he didn't misunderstand your statement. You simply nodded, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“Yep” you replied when he stared at you for a while longer, popping the p.

Jimin smirked. “I’ll get you the best flavour to ever exist then.”

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, “Oh?”

“Yeah, mint chocolate~” 

You stared at him in disgust, scowling as you said, “Dude I just said that flavour is disgusting. Made by the devil himself.”

Jimin tapped his chin, as if he had no clue about you were saying, “Did you really? Can’t recall anything like that. Hmm.”

“Park Jimin, I swear to god if you get me that flavour I will rip your eyeballs out and shove them up your ass.”

“So you wanna touch my ass now?” He grinned smugly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you spluttered, desperately searching for a comeback.

“Just- just get me whatever you’re having. Unless it’s chocolate mint, then get out of my sight right now.” 

“Don't worry, I hate the flavour as much as you do. So, two birthday cakes coming right up.” You try to find ‘birthday cake’ on the menu. 

“Dude, the thing looks like a unicorn just threw up on it.” 

Jimin shoots you a glare. “Don’t disrespect the superior flavour bestowed upon us by the ice cream Gods.” You gape at him open-mouthed. Ice cream Gods?! The guy was insane. You were on a date with a guy who was insane. Rest in pepperoni to you.

“You’re insane,” You shake your head. “I’ll be waiting over there. Be quick.” You point to a table in the corner. 

“Yes ma’am” Jimin saluted before going to order at the counter. You shake your head. You’d known Jimin of most of your life and he’d always been silly and annoying. 

Some reason you knew a lot about him. You blamed it on your parents making you spend too much time with each other when you were younger. Also you needed to know every little thing about your mortal enemy, wasn’t that what mortal enemies did? You had to be prepared for anything and keep track of them at all times!

“Got your ice cream.” Jimin placed the cup in front of you as you stared at it with distaste. You’d never really had ice cream often but when you did you always went for the plain vanilla. It was simple, no need for toppings or colourful flavours. You weren’t one to take risks. 

“What monstrosity did you get for me, Park?” 

“Oh stop being a baby, it’s just strawberry with some syrup on it.” Jimin answered while he rolled his eyes, lips tugged up into a small smile. Eyes twinkling with adoration as he looked at you. 

“I’m not eating it.”

“Oh yes you are. Here comes the airplane!” Jimin started, taking a spoonful of the ice cream and moving it towards your face as if talking to a child. 

“I’m not a kid. I’m not ha-” Jimin shoves the spoon inside your mouth when you open it to retaliate, his lips lifted into a sly smile. You snatch the spoon off him while glaring at him and start feeding yourself. “Don’t patronise me, you jerk.” You grumbled.

Jimin almost cooed out loud at your pout but he barely controlled himself. Since when were you this cute? He watched as you ate.

“Is it good?” 

“...yes” You reluctantly answered, still pouting.

Jimin smiled, leaning back on his chair as he pat himself on his shoulder. “Another job done well by yours truly.”

You rolled your eyes. Then you noticed that Jimin’s ice cream looked slightly different to yours. It wouldn’t hurt to ask for a bite. Would it?

“What’s on yours?” Jimin looked up, the tiny spoon still in his mouth. “What’s on your ice cream?”

“Just extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce, nothing too special.” He shrugged, continuing to devour his dessert. You stare at your cup and then at his. Something must have been possessing you because before you knew it you were leaning over and digging your spoon into his cup.

“Hey, you can’t just do that!”

“Pretty sure I just did.” You popped the spoon into your mouth, savouring the taste. “You know you really weren’t kidding when you said this was good. For once, you did something right, congrats dude.” 

Jimin would have made a snarky comment but the look of pure ecstasy on your face stopped him. Even though he knew you for most of his life, there were parts you kept hidden. He knew you didn’t get out much, constantly studying was the only thing you seemed to do. A nice feeling bubbled inside of him. It was nice to know you were enjoying yourself, made him feel happy for some reason. 

You giggled, shoving more of the sweet dessert into your mouth. Too busy to notice that Jimin was staring at you. When you did, you gave him a look of confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“You got a little something here.” He pointed to the left side of his face, holding in the urge to laugh at your cute expression. “No here, no.” He leaned over brushing his thumb over the corner of your lips. He stared at you, had your eyes always been so pretty? You felt yourself grow red at the close proximity between you two, not knowing what to do. Jimin leaned away, - why did your heart sink at that? - and licked his thumb. “Love this flavour.”

You avert your eyes quickly, blush getting brighter. You should not have found that as hot as you did. Get yourself together Y/N! Park Jimin, enemy number one! Nothing he does is mildly attractive. Nothing. He is the devil reincarnated!

Suddenly your phone started ringing, shattering whatever moment you two had going on. You picked up the device and checked the caller ID. Why was Jungkook calling now? You gave Jimin a sheepish look.

“Hello? I’m out. No. What? How did you- Alright alright.” Jimin watched as you spoke on your phone. 

You sighed in annoyance, hanging up after a while and giving Jimin a sheepish smile, “I need to go. Jungkook somehow made the microwave catch on fire.” 

Jimin raised his eyebrows in shock, looking at you as if you had grown two more heads. “What? How is that even possible?”

“Not a clue but I gotta dip. Thank you for inviting me here today. I still think you’re up to something though but whatever.” You spoke, getting up from your seat and grabbing your small messenger bag that you brought along. 

Jimin stood up alongside you, the both of you walking out of the shop and stopping on the sidewalk. “Yeah… Thank you for coming here with me.”

You two stood there staring at each other, not wanting to leave just yet. 

“Well then! I’ll see you on Monday. Bye Jimin,” You announced after a while, quickly pressing a small kiss on his cheek before dashing away. 

Jimin stood there in shock, hands raising to touch where you kissed him. Why was his heart racing so fast and why did he feel so warm inside? 

“Huh.. maybe you’re not so bad Y/L/N” Jimin spoke up to himself before he too started his walk back home, mind filled with thoughts of you.

[moving-wright-along]

bury me in your mind

this started as a sort of high school AU but it just turned into a whole nother beast. its a little over 4k words. i apologize in advance. Ticci Toby x a gender neutral reader warnings: mentions of violence and a fuckload of cursing. kinda angsy? but only towards the end

Toby hates high school and he hates every stupid fucker in the whole damn building.

The only exception to his burning hatred is you.

His English class is the only class that keeps Toby sane throughout the day, because it’s the class he gets to sit next to you. People naturally steer away from him once they notice the occasional twitches and jerks of his body, like their tiny brains have an alarm that goes off whenever they see anything that might not be ‘normal’. Toby decided a long time ago that it was probably for the best, and started to avoid everyone else as much as they avoided him. Yet on the first day, you sat beside him without being forced, and with plenty of other seats available.

At first he thinks you’re weird, but you don’t try to talk to him and you don’t flinch or lean away from him when he twitches, so you’re cool in his book.

Toby starts admiring you after about a week into the semester. He’s sitting in his seat, minding his own fucking business because he’s apparently one of the only people in this whole town that can, when some dumbass jock comes up and starts throwing out insults disguised as ‘friendly’ questions about his conditions. Toby immediately has to shove down the urge to sucker punch the idiot in the nose, but he promised his mom to try not to get into fights this year. And hell, he’s a mama's boy at heart still so he’s trying to indulge her. But goddamn is it hard.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” It takes a moment for Toby to register that you were the one that just spoke up.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than insult people over things they can’t control and be fucking annoying? Get a hobby.”

And- Wow, Toby really hopes he’s not as slack jawed as the other guy is, cause he looks like an idiot with his mouth open like that. The guy tries stuttering something out but it's drowned out by several people laughing and a few of the guy's so-called friends jeering him because 'damn dude, the quiet kid just owned your ass’. The teacher steps in and everyone quiets down, their attention thankfully taken off your corner of the room. 

Toby has the decency to stutter out a quiet 'thanks’ that you just shrug off. You instantly became way more than just 'cool’ in Toby’s book.

He wants to say so much more than thanks, like how you’re the first person to stand up for him besides his sister in a long time, and how pretty he thinks you are, but he keeps his stupid mouth shut and his head down. The two of you don’t talk again until a few days later. 

There’s a substitute teacher that day, but they’re clearly not very good at their job considering the class is way louder than usual. Toby grits his teeth and just tries to focus on his worksheet, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears. Every noise- every high pitched laugh, every pencil thrown across the room, every scrapping of chair legs on the floor- seems to send him further towards a total breakdown, every one of his senses completely overloaded. He jumps when he feels a soft poke on his arm. You hold out your other earbud to him. 

“Wanna listen?” You ask. He stares blankly for a moment, and he guesses that he waits too long to reply because after a moment you roll your eyes and hold out your hand a little further. 

“Come on man, I don’t bite unless I have to.” You smile a little, and it takes him a second to realize you’re joking. He’s quick to react after that. 

His heart pounds hard as he takes the earbud from you and jams it into his ear, trying not to think about your fingers brushing together for a split second. He spends the rest of class silently noting the titles and lyrics of songs on your playlist as they pass. He ends up listening to those same songs when he gets home, his mind replaying the encounter over and over. 

The two of you could almost be considered friends after that. You share your earbuds with him frequently, you lower your voice and whisper comments or jokes to him occasionally and he always has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from snickering too loud. At first you only talk about assignments and whatever book your class is reading but soon you’re talking about all kinds of things.

Toby notices a lot of little things about you around this time. You sit a little closer to him than before since your earbuds don’t reach that far, and you spend more time zoning out and doodling in class than you do paying attention. You say you hate english but he’s starting to think you just say that to have something to complain about, because you’re not nearly as bad at it as you claim to be. 

Unbeknownst to Toby, you notice things about him too. He shies away when you get a little to close and his breath hitches when you poke at him or whisper to get his attention. Everyone seems weary or even scared of him but you quickly find out that he’s… kind of a dork. He likes to read and loves sci-fi and adventure stories and he blushes when you discover that he likes the occasional romance as well. He talks a lot when you get him going about a topic he enjoys and then gets bashful when he realizes just how long he was talking. He lives close to the woods and he loves being outside and has a strange amount of knowledge about the local flora and fauna. He apologizes too much and keeps his mouth shut tight when other people are around and his voice is naturally kind of soft even though he has a tendency to be louder than he thinks he is. 

You like him. He’s sweet. 

Toby still struggles with people in other classes and in the halls every-fucking-where else, but at the very least he has English with you. 

The year passes quickly. Toby gets you a Christmas gift after the holiday break is over- a pair of new earbuds because you had texted him complaining about your current ones giving out and you feel bad because you didn’t think to get him anything. You buy some random candy since you don’t know what he likes and give it to him the next day and even though you feel like an asshole for not giving him a real gift he smiles at you like it’s the best thing he’s ever received and you silently vow to get him something better for his birthday.. 

You buy him a box of Valentine's chocolates but chicken out before giving them to him so you just lie and say that you got them from your mom and you share the kind of gross candies in the back of class and try not to let the shame show on your face. He gives you a pink frog plushie with a messed up eye and claims he got it because he thought it would make you laugh and it does. You really wish you’d just given him the stupid box. 

You’re getting ready for bed a few days later when you get a text from him. You raise an eyebrow as you cross the room to your phone and look it over. 

‘Need to get out of the house for a while. I was gonna wander around in the woods like a dumb teenager, wanna come?’

You roll your eyes. You imagine that if you looked out the window right now you’d spot Toby outside your house already. Your friend knew you had a hard time saying no to him and abused his power to no end. 

'its a school night dummy.’

'and almost midnight’

‘Yeah… Anyway, how’s that science project that’s due tomorrow coming along for you?’

Shit. You totally forgot about that. 

'asshole’

‘Haha. You could always skip and finish it tomorrow.’

'ugh’ ‘you let me forget on purpose’

‘You have no proof of that.’ ‘I’ll buy you an energy drink and snacks?’

'open with that next time. omw’

At least you were right about him already waiting for you. Toby grins at you a little and you punch him in the arm lightly once you’ve successfully climbed out of your window. True to his word, Toby buys you a Monster and teases you about your flavor choices. 

“The original monster is fucking gross-” You say, scrunching your nose up at the very thought of it. 

“It’s- It’s not that bad! You’re j-just a baby.” Toby argues back as he wanders down the aisles, grabbing whatever snacks and candies catch his or your attention. 

“You’re not even supposed to drink Monster, loser.”

Toby shrugs, ducking his head and hiding his smile behind his hood. You wish he’d smile a bit more openly. 

Toby pays the gas station attendant for your haul and the two of you start walking in the same direction as his house, wandering past it and into the nearby woods. You’re a little freaked out walking around the dark woods at night, but Toby seems totally at home. Although, he practically grew up in these woods, so you suppose it’s only fair. 

“Why the fuck is it so cold? It’s spring.” You complain. You thought it’d be warmer and you’re practically freezing in your long sleeve shirt. 

“It’s barely March.” Toby retorts. 

“Whatever.”

“Wanna wear my jacket?” Toby offers, although he pales when you look up at him and he turns his gaze away. The dark hides his expression, but it’s pretty easy to tell that he’s embarrassed. 

“Sure.” You answer, trying to sound casual. Before you know it you’re wrapped up in his jacket. It’s already a bit too big on him cause he’s way skinnier than he should be so it hangs off your frame and covers your hands. It’s nice, though you try not to think too hard about how much you enjoy wearing it, or how it smells like that awful body spray he uses that you can’t seem to complain about.  

“You sure you’re not cold, though?” You ask.

“Eh. C-CIPA stuff makes feeling temperature we-weird anyway.” He shrugs. You forget sometimes that he doesn’t feel pain. The following silence is awkward and you’re still trying not to focus too much on the fact that giving someone your jacket is an inherently romantic gesture, so you decide to bully him a bit to take your mind off it.

“Where’d you even get this thing anyway? Who in the right mind sells a brown jacket with striped sleeves and a blue hood?” You ask and he snorts. You’ve made it clear before through teasing just how silly you find his jacket’s design to be. Toby rolls his eyes.

“W-Wasn’t always a blue hood. I fell out of a tree once and ripped the original h-hood on the w-way down. Lyra just took the hood off-off one of her old jackets and s-sewed it on.”

You roll your eyes and chuckle. He’s the only person you know that would have a story like that. 

The two of you wander around together and talk, and as you walk you wonder what his reaction would be if you just reached out and held his hand. Too bad you’re too much of a coward to try. 

As if on cue, Toby pauses in his tracks and reaches out to grab your sleeve. He tugs you gently in a different direction. 

“Come on. T-This way.” 

“Where’re we going?” You ask. 

Toby glances over his shoulder at you, and you notice a hint of a smile across his face. 

“There’s this o-old tower th-thing close by. I like hanging out there sometimes.” 

Toby leads you into a clearing, and you find yourself in front of a tall red tower. 

“What is this thing?” 

“D-Dunno. I guess it use-used to be a climbing wall or something.” 

You stare at some of the graffiti on the outer walls as Toby walks around to the other side. 

“Come on!” He calls. You follow him around to the back of the tower and find that one side is open, allowing access to the inside. Caution tape and trash litters the ground inside and Toby is halfway up a ladder to the top. 

“We’re climbing up…? This looks rickety as hell, man.” 

“It’s fine,” Toby assures, pausing at the top to turn and look down at you. “I’ve climbed this thing pl-plenty of times.” 

“I dunno…” 

“Come on. D-don’t be a baby, it’s fine.” He teases and makes himself comfortable on the top of the wall. 

“That’s exactly what the guy says to the girl before something really bad happens in a horror movie.” You argue, though you can’t fight back a smile as you climb up anyway. 

“We’re not in a ho-horror movie though.” Toby says, taking your hand and helping you sit beside him. You sit close to him and your sides press together. You feel a surge of pride when you remember that he used to shy away from you a lot when you first met, but now you can casually touch like this with no issue.

You open and share snacks together, and you let Toby take a sip of your drink to see if he likes the flavor or not. You watch him raise it to his mouth and your brain screams something at you about an indirect kiss and you quickly shove that thought aside and stomp on it.

Sure, Toby is cute and he’s a good friend, but you don’t like him like that. Definitely not. Would you kiss the crap out of his stupid adorable face if you knew it wouldn’t scare him off? Of course. But that doesn’t mean you have some kind of lame crush on him.

“Ca-Can I… tell you something?” He starts, seeming a bit bashful all of the sudden. Your heart kicks into overdrive. Oh fuck, okay, maybe you we’re lying about not having a little bit of a crush.

“Of course.” You say, trying not to let your voice waver. He hesitates.

“U-Uh. N-Nevermind, actually! Heh.”

You raise a brow.

“Oh come on, what was it?” You ask.

“Ju-just!” Toby looks a bit panicked as he fumbles. “Um. Just thinking about th-that book I’m reading. I think I already told you about it though. D-Did I tell you about the main character and his friend’s fight?”

Even if you didn’t know Toby that well, you’d still know he was lying. He’s a pretty bad liar. Your heart sinks a bit but you don’t push the subject.

“Oh, yeah you did.” You say, a little disappointed. Toby rambles for a few minutes about his book and conversation continues easily enough.

“Oh!” Toby jumps, and suddenly turns to you with a big smile. “M-My sister is coming over this weekend!”

“Lyra, right?”

“Y-Yeah. She’s coming to visit f-from college.” He says, and he looks really happy. “Y-you should come over and meet her. She’d l-love you.”

That sentiment makes you feel warm inside. Toby speaks very highly of his sister, so you really hope she likes you.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You say and Toby beams at you.

“You seem excited.” You smile and nudge him with your elbow.

“Y-yeah. She goes to school kind of far away, so it’s been a while sin-since I’ve seen her.” Toby looks away, his tone becoming a bit more serious. “F-for a long time I felt like Lyra w-was the only per-person who really cared about me… W-well. Until I met you.”

Your heart melts a little and you can’t resist letting your head thunk onto his shoulder. Toby stiffens, but makes no move to stop you.

“She sounds great, I can’t wait to meet her.”

Toby hums, and you sit together for a while longer until you realize it’s almost 3 am. You carefully climb back down the ladder, Toby following and you watch as he jumps down the last foot of ladder and lands on his feet with a soft thunk. You’re about to walk off before he catches your attention again. 

“Oh! I-I almost forgot,” He says, then starts examining the walls, as if looking for something. “H-Here it is.” 

You approach to see what he’s talking about, and you find a low section of wall with Toby’s name messily carved into it. 

“Wanna carve something too?” He asks. You hum an affirmative and Toby withdraws a small pocket knife from his jean pocket and hands it to you. 

“I’m not gonna question why you have a knife.” You say, chuckling tiredly as you knelt and began carefully carving. 

“F-For protection, obviously.” Toby says, his tone teasing. “One of u-us has to keep us safe. Since we’re in a horror movie now.” 

You roll your eyes and finish up your carving, moving aside so Toby could see it. You carved your own name underneath his, adding a plus sign between them. You watch him flush slightly, trying not to blush yourself. 

“Now everyone will know we were here together.” You say, justifying yourself as you passed his knife back. 

He walks you home and you reluctantly give his jacket back once you’re in your driveway. You’re about to climb back through your window when Toby speaks up.

“U-um…” He starts. You look back to see him rocking on his feet. He steps forward, and hesitates for a second before pulling you into a quick hug.

“T-thanks for hanging out with me. A-And-and for being my friend. Bye!”

Toby lets go and runs off before you can say anything back. You find yourself grinning from ear to ear as you slip into bed, quickly unlocking your phone and opening his contact.

'you’re welcome, loser <3’

You skip school the next day like Toby suggested, convincing your mom of a killer headache when she comes in to see why you’re not up. You imagine the eyebags from your lack of sleep help your case pretty well since she doesn’t make a fuss about it. You finish up some neglected work and waste the day away. It’s Friday, and you know Lyra is supposed to come into town today. You figure Toby will message you later about plans to meet up.

So you find it strange when you don’t hear from Toby at all that weekend. You feel a little down about it, but maybe Lyra just didn’t feel like hanging out, and he was probably busy with family stuff, so you don’t question it.

When he doesn’t show up to class on Monday, you figure he’s just spending more time with his family. Then, when two more days go by without seeing him or getting a text back, you worry that he got into a fight and got suspended or something. You’re properly freaking out by the time the week is up.

You’d only been to Toby’s house once before and that was only when all of his family was out of the house for the night. Other than that he was always kind of weird about you coming over. If you hung out outside of school it either had to be at your place or somewhere else. And now here you were, marching over to get an answer. 

You notice a car in the driveway and hesitate. You didn’t want to risk interacting with his dad. Toby never told you any specifics, but he seriously hated that guy. You look up at Toby’s window and notice a shadow move across the curtains. He’s in there. 

You don’t want to recreate a shitty teen movie and throw rocks at his window, and if texting him worked then you would’ve gotten an answer days ago. Using the railing of the porch, you haul yourself as quietly onto the roof outside his window as possible. Fuck, you really hope it’s him in there and not one of his parents or something. Gently, you knock on the glass. There’s no response for a minute, and you’re about to knock again when the curtains yank back and scare the shit out of you. You’re met with Toby’s shocked face on the other side, as if you both were equally startled by one another. 

“Uhh… Hi?” You say weakly. Toby struggles to yank the window up and drags you inside. You stumble into his bedroom and his hands grip your biceps hard. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses. 

“I was worried about you!” You snap, keeping your voice as low as his. “You’ve been out all week and you never- replied…” 

Your anger completely melts away when you finally get a good look at the state he’s in. His arms and hands are bandaged up and his face is marred with little scratches and a nasty bruise beneath his eye. He raises an eyebrow like he has no idea why you’re looking at him like that. His breath hitches when you absentmindedly reach out and place a hand on his cheek, just below the bruise and rub a bit with your thumb. 

“What happened to you?” You ask, softly. Toby suddenly jumps back, like your touch burnt him. His arms wrap tight around his chest and he avoids your gaze and you try not to be hurt by that. 

“C-Car accident.” 

“You were in a fucking car accident?!” You whisper-scream. 

“I’m fine.” He insists. He doesn’t look fine to you at all. “S-Sorry I did-didn’t tell you. Ph-Phone’s been turned off for a few days…” 

He glances at his nightstand and you follow his gaze to his phone, connected to the charger but the front is completely shattered. He probably just didn’t want to look at it. 

Toby stays silent for a moment before speaking up again. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No- God no, Tobes, I was just worried. It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I freaked out and climbed onto your roof and knocked on your window.” 

Toby finally grins a little at your remark, but it drops off his face quickly. 

“…You should go. I don’t want my parents to know you’re here.” Toby herds you towards the window, and you go without any struggle. All you wanted was to see that he was okay, and you supposed you got your answer. 

“Alright, alright, but you better text me later, okay?” 

Toby smiles a little again, but it looks forced. 

“Y-Yeah. I’ll try.” 

You head back home, and you don’t get any texts. You spend the next few days in silent frustration while you’re still ignored by your friend. Maybe something else happened that he’s not telling you about? Sure, a car accident is traumatizing, but he seemed more or less okay? There has to be some other reason he’s avoiding you. 

All it takes is a quick scroll through your local news site to find the obituary. Lyra Rogers. Your hands freeze on your laptop’s mouse in silent horror. Holy shit, his sister died in that crash. You’re suddenly overcome with sadness. Toby talked about Lyra a lot- about his cool older sister in college a few towns away who always looked out for him. You never got to meet her. Fuck, no wonder he’s been so distant. 

Every ounce of frustration leaves your body and you slump over. You just accept that you’re probably not going to see your friend anytime soon. You consider giving him your condolences, but you don’t want to risk bringing it up and hurting him more. Besides, Toby’s never been one to want people’s sympathy or pity. You suppose he’ll reach out when he’s ready.

The next few days are sporadic. You get an apology text from Toby and he updates you about his condition, though he’s vague and only mentions that he’s going to see a doctor. You don’t get much else. English class is boring without him. Toby goes completely silent again. 

You figure he just needs time to himself to heal, but you’re constantly worried about him in the back of your mind. One morning you’re passing through the living room while getting ready for school and you pause in front of the TV, your mother having left it on the news. Your heart stops mid beat in your chest. 

Brutally murdered… fire… missing…

You feel bile rise in your throat and you slap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from being sick, backing away from the TV. Tears flow down your cheeks. There’s no way this is real, right? Toby wouldn’t do that. Your Toby wouldn’t do that. 

You quickly retreat to your room, ignoring your mother's shout from downstairs. You whip out your phone, foregoing your text messages and going straight to calling him. You need to hear from him, you need him to tell you that it was all a lie and that he was innocent. 

Your first call goes unanswered, but the second goes through after two rings. You gasp a little and listen hard for a moment. You think you can hear breathing, the distant crunching of leaves. 

“Toby?” You ask. The call ends immediately. The rest of your calls are unanswered. You resort to texts after a few minutes, hoping that he was at least reading them. 

You skip school the next few days- you don’t want to hear what anyone else has to say on the situation, no one knew Toby like you knew him, and you can’t guarantee that you won’t lunge at someone for bad mouthing him. Although, you never thought Toby would kill someone either, so maybe you didn’t know him that well after all. 

Your life feels like it's falling apart. You’re like a carnival ride violently swinging back and forth between the five stages of grief, jumping around like it’s fucking hopscotch. 

You push yourself out of bed that weekend in a strange rush of determination. You were just making yourself more miserable by sitting around and wallowing in bed all day, you’re driving yourself crazy like that. Pushing past the want to just lay down again, you get dressed and decide to go on a walk. Maybe fresh air will make you feel better. 

Without even trying, you somehow end up close to Toby’s house. For a second, you consider going up to the door and knocking, maybe talk to his mom a bit. You’ve never met her before, but Toby seemed fond of her. Maybe she’d let you, you don’t know, take one of his jackets to remember him by? Or was that way too weird? 

You realize with a sinking feeling that Connie Rogers lost her daughter, son, and husband within the short span of a few weeks. She most certainly has more important things to deal with than some kid showing up on her door and asking to rifle through her son’s stuff. Maybe you could talk to her sometime, but not now. You push past and walk into the woods behind their house, wandering around until you somehow end up at the tower you visited with him only a few days ago. 

You collapse into a heap and slump against the wall. The floodgates swing open and all your emotions come rushing out, and you let them. 

You scream and cry without having to worry about anyone hearing you. You sob uncontrollably for a few minutes, then you curse Toby’s name and yell at him for tricking you into being his friend- then your brain makes you imagine what his face would look like if you had said that to his face and then you’re just sad again. You shrink in on yourself, crying and saying that you didn’t mean it. You don’t know why you bother saying anything to him out loud anyway, it’s not like he can hear you. 

You wish he was dead, that they’d found a body after he escaped. At least then you’d know where he was. Then you could go to his grave and punch his headstone, or you could just sit there and talk as if everything was normal. But there’s no body, so there’s no grave. Knowing that he was likely alive out there somewhere is somehow more painful. 

“You stupid jerk.” You say between disgusting, hiccupping sobs. You wipe at your face with your sleeve, trying to calm yourself.

If only you knew he was hiding up in a tree, a measly few feet away at the edge of the clearing, clutching at his chest as if it would keep his heart from clawing its way out.

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Five (The Great Mini-series, Arranged Marriage AU)

A/N: Here it finally is!!!! Sorry it took forever, life happens.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: When the Emperor’s behavior gets your families alliance with Russia in danger, you agree to marry his best friend Grigor in order to make sure the alliance does not fall apart. You’re tossed into the Russian court and into the arms and bed of a Russian count, dodging his jealous ex lover, trying to survive the unpredictability.... but...what about yuou two? Are you and Grigor finally...feeling something for each other?

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, mentions of sex and nudity, marriage, and an in universe reference I couldn’t resist.

“Come here Sonya! Come here!” Lady Svenska cooed, wiggling her fingers.

The puppy trotted to her and she squealed in delight.

Tatiana bent her knees, her lime green dress bunching below her like icing on a cake as she did.

“Sonya! Sonya come!” she gestured.

With a happy trot, Sonya waddled over. She reached up, her tiny tail wagging.

“Oooo, good girl! Good girl!”

You had been invited to a tea party with the other ladies. Although you had gotten closer to the empress, you feared if they would see you as an enemy. Especially hearing of Catherine’s last tea party with them. So walking in, you brought your secret weapon. And it worked.

The only woman it seemed who was not having the time of her life with what was happening was Georgiana. Dressed in her purple gown and largest wig, she sat a little slumped on the couch. She was sipping her tea every now and then but crossing her arms. She stared daggers at the dog and how it trotted. She preferred any small circle that came over to obsess over the latest scandalous affair, but even then she kept one eye on Sonya as if the dog was a wolf ready to attack. She didn’t dare say a word to you. And you didn’t say a word to her. But if there was nothing said, then nothing bad could happen.

Smiling, you helped yourself to a red macaroon, delighting in the crunch and cream of it’s taste. Lady Svenska walked over to you and asked.

“Can she do tricks?” she questioned.

“Almost. She’s getting better at walking. She used to pull and run a lot, but she’s better at being obedient.”

“And she doesn’t tear things up?” she asked.

“Only sometimes. I have to watch where my dresses are stored,” you answered.

“Ah! She’s such a good dog! How lovely of you to bring her here, Madame Dymov!”

Georgiana’s eyes went dark.

“Will you come to our ball throwing this evening! It is most fun! Mine might go another inch!”

“I’d be delighted to! And be sure to tell me more about that maid with the baron old enough to be her grandfather too! And with copous details!” you added on.

“Oh! I do like you! And what of the Empress?”

“Well, we read. And we chat…”

“But all that reading!? Isn’t it time consuming!”

“A little. Her books can take time. I reread pages over and over…but in the best way. I suppose. It keeps her happy.”

“If you have any gossip about her, please share!”

“I..I, uh, will!” you promise.

“First of all, have you any plans or gifts to give her on her birthday, it’s coming up in about a month!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you mumbled.

At that moment your husband entered the room. He seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the flowers and pastel dresses, eyeing birds singing ditties in shiny cages and macaroons piled to his chest on platters.

“Oh, Y/N…where is Y/N?” he asked to one lady in a pink dress and grey wig.

She pointed in your direction and he smiled.

As he walked by, he passed the couch where Georgiana was sitting. Her shoe tapped his calf and he turned.

“Hello, Grigor…” she said with a faded grin.

“Hello, George,” he replied politely. Somehow, your blood felt hot. But yet, the marriage was over, so what if they even talked? He probably just enjoyed you talking with him and occasionally sleeping with him. But no, they had to be soulmates. And it was better not to disturb them. After all, despite the suddenness of the marriage, it would work. He would be happy.

“How is the party?” he asked, hands placed behind the back.

“Going perfect. We’re being introduced to the loud, hairy creature that lifts her leg when she pisses. Her dog is there too.” She quipped with a surprisingly relieved smile.

You froze. Little Sonya recognized Grigor and ran up to him, oblivious to how white his face was turning. A few fans were spread, and you barely heard feminine whispers of “…quite bitchy…” It got a little quiet. Even with the string quartet in the back was playing at a piano as if they wanted to hear what would happen next to.

Getting up, you turned around to leave them alone. Let them take it out. Let him laugh, Let her smile. Maybe even fuck against the wall like you noticed the odd couple doing on a night of reveling in the palace, no matter who might see or hear.

“George. I can’t control what you do on your own. But when you are with me, you will not speak about my wife in that matter.”

Pausing, you turned around. A couple quiet tears fell down your cheeks.

“You’re an esteemed lady of the court with the world at your fingertips. She’s a poor creature thrown into an arranged marriage, stolen from another country, and little to never to see any of her family or friends again while you just lay down and let Peter put fruit in your pussy and drink champagne.”

Wiping away tears with your hands, you stood still, not sure what to say. Grigor continued, truly angered and passionate.

“I didn’t marry her because of you. And she didn’t marry me so she could have my cock when you couldn’t. I did this so that we all- we all-“ he gestured to the people in the room “won’t be fucking ripped apart by Swede’s in a fortnight thanks to her families army. You will show her what little compassion you have in your tiny heart. You could even show her an ounce of gratitude for the sacrifice she and I made for the safety of everyone here, including yours. Or else I could have said no and let the swedes stab you in your tits when you’re asleep in the emperor’s bed. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it too. But I did.”

She froze. There was even a couple of gasps.

Scooping the tiny dog in his arms, he turned ot you promptly.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I…I am…” you answered. “But I’m tired, let’s go home and play cards.”

“I agree.”

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 A week later, Grigor had partied so much with the Emperor last night, wrestling and playing with some man named Leon or whoever. You peaked in the door, and yawning, retired to your own apartments to sleep even if alone.

Waking up briefly in the grey air, you felt him crawling into bed at four in the morning. So you let him sleep in as you took Sonya on her morning walk. Besides, she would pout and whine if you didn’t walk at her certain time.

“Here you go, I know, Papa can’t be there-but I will,” you assured the dog.

You made your way through the halls into the gardens. Sonya was already getting bigger. The collar and leash made for her a while ago was getting snug on her fluffy body.

Enjoying the forest, you heard the rhythmic crunch of the leaves and sticks beneath Sonya’s prancing paws. The cold air stung your lungs in the best way. The sky looked clear and crisp.

Sonya pointed her snout in one direction. She began pulling and barking.

“What is it? Some sort of creature!” you thought, walking forward.

It wasn’t a mouse of squirrel, there was a person slumped against a tree, sitting on the dirt. Walking closer, you made out a dark green skirt and a hat, but a head of dark, curly hair made loose. She reeked of vodka and beer. Her face was pale to where she seemed ill, rather than the lovely cream color of her skin. And beneath her eyes there were several bags.

“G..Georgiana…”

She turned her head to you, squinting.

“Yes…” she grunted.

“What are you doing here?”

She began to laugh a little, bitterly.

“I could ask the same…what are you doing here?”

“I’m walking Sonya…she needs to be exercised so she won’t get into trouble from being bored,” you explained, gripping the leash.

“Huh, I know sometimes…sometimes Grigor goes with you…” her voice was deep and throaty, far from her usual speaking tone. As if every word was choked up.

She seemed so pitiful you didn’t have the heart to chafe her.

“Yes, yes he does…”

Her exhausted eyes wandered forward into the grove of trees. She kept speaking to you.

“Sometimes we’d walk together. Only if it was nice. We did everything together. Walking. Eating. Dancing. Bathing together. Did you know…I even got my portrait painted and he kept it in his room! Right next to his bed…he…he cared for me so much to where I was right there with him every morning even when I wasn’t next to him and now…now he hates me…”

She began to sniffle, and a few tears worked up.

“No. No, I don’t think he hates you at all…”

“Why did he speak to me that way?”

“He just…he got emotional. And he has been emotional because he loves you. He’s every bit as sad as you are for not marrying…”

Sonya walked over to the crying woman. Alerted by the sounds, she walked over and sniffed at her wet face. She broke out  a smile.

“But the truth is…in this court, there’s plenty of women who’ve fucked Peter. More than half. That’s just a fact of life. But I… I love it. I love having men want me, being worshipped, loved, is that wrong?”

“It’s normal,” you admitted. “it’s normal to want to be loved.”

“And the things it gives you. It’s not the least bad. I have all sorts of things. Dresses. Hats. A high position in court. Security. Comfort. Occasionally I can change laws and save lives with just a word-imagine that! And jewels. Jewels I used to dream of having. And I get to enjoy making love to a man who’s skilled at it. It might be the only way for a woman here to move up. That’s the way it is, is that wrong? Is it wrong to enjoy fucking and love a man too? For them to be separate men? They do it all the time and no one bats an eye bit when I do…”

She finally fell down into sobs.

“And he just...he couldn’t accept it. He claimed he loved me, and I… I love him, I still do, he just couldn’t accept me as I am and this world as it is…I thought he knew me…and that I knew him…”

She began to cry more; Sonya reached over and began to lick her face. She laughed at the ridiculous feeling of a dog’s tongue right on your nose and you began to laugh too.

“Georgiana…I’m so sorry I yelled at you that first day…I saw you as a threat and didn’t stop to think what you would feel. How I would feel if I was in your shoes…”

“Ugh, you’re…you’re as saccharine as…as…I don’t even know, Y/N. I’d put you in my…my mouth and my blood would rush, and they’d have to let it out with slugs.”

Taking out a handkerchief, you began to wipe her tears from her face.

“I’m not the one in tears…but…he used to keep a portrait of you…” you questioned.

“He did…is it there? Maybe….”

“Not anymore…” you explained flatly.

So that explained the circular area on the wall next to the bed.

“I know you really do love Grigor. And you care for him…but loving someone is hard. I love my family and friends back home, or unless I wanted to make all of them suffer or even get killed, I had to let them go to come here…sometimes, there are things you have to let go and move on from…” you assured her. You aren’t a bad person for wanting those things. You’re a smart person for figuring out how to get them. I admire you for it.”

“I just keep wondering…I keep wondering what would happen if he said yes…if he agreed to the terms…we’d be so happy…”

And he would see you with Peter and be miserable. Then god knows what would happen you thought.

You took her arm and helped her to her shaky legs.

“But there’s no use in that. Here, let’s get you back to the palace. I think after you get some water and some sleep, you might feel better…”

“But Y/N, Grigor I think…he’s in denial how Peter works here. If a woman needs anything in court, and if Peter picks you…he picks you. And, well, there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Your stomach lurched.

    “Grigor might want a faithful wife. He might’ve thought he got that with you but…defying the Emperor is a risk. Too huge. Why say no? After all, he’s a genius at fucking so it could be worse…”

“You need water, Georgiana. And you need to clean up. Then you’ll feel better…” you interrupted, trying to mother her away and ignoring the fear in your gut.

 But as you were strolling later in the week, returning from another one of the Empresses’s private discussions, you saw a few ladies eye down at the book. Perhaps they judged you. Perhaps they were jealous. But one bespecaled face saw you, smiled, and then hurried up.

“Orlo! How are you?”

“Y/N-er-Madame Dymov! Enough about me already- I heard the Empress gave you a copy of the Rousseau! What do you think!?” he asked excitedly.

His dark eyes glittered at the book in your hands. Holding it up to him you let him inspect it.

“I was…I was shocked at first. His ideas felt like…like a blast of cold wind. But I…he made good points. And I found myself agreeing after some time…” you explained with a shrug.

“He’s one of my favorites, and tehre’s so much…so much inside there. But I…I wish I could explain it all…”

“Let’s go to my place, I’ll call for a plate...” you offered with a shrug and a smile.

Introducing him to the drawing room, he settled down shyly on the seat in front of the fire. You brought in some tea with a strawberry cake and wound up talking for a straight hour. He got his own turn to pet on little Sonya as she licked his fingers from the cake crumbs. You discussed Rousseau, then he went on to talk about Voltaire, Plato, Paine. Ideas stretched you and you found yourself talking about things you could never imagine debating about with anyone. About people. Power. Faith. Life. Death. Purpose, if there was one at all. Your cup became cold and you had to reheat it by pouring some liquid into it.

Orlo glowed as he explained it all. He was not condescending. In fact, it felt like being in school with  a good teacher. You understood and appreciated it even more. You were amazed with the depth of knowledge he had. Beneath his mousy exterior, there was a brilliant mind. Perhaps even genius. You were amazed in him. Strands of his hair loosened out and he smiled more, seeming relaxed and confident. Far more confident than you ever knew him to be in public.

“But out of all of them, I think my favorite is…”

The door creaked as it opened.

His head turned and you saw Grigor walking in. His face was pink, and his eyebrows crossed.

“Hello Orlo, what are you doing with my wife?” he asked, his lips tight and his voice firm.

“I, uh…” he found himself blubbering. His posture slouched and his hands retreated.

Standing at once, you walked up to Grigor with as much poise as you could.

“The empress gifted me with a book and Orlo was asking me about it over tea, nothing more…” you explained plainly.

“It’s fascinating. Isn’t it!” you added, throwing back a look.

Orlo nodded shyly, getting out of the seat like it had spikes.

“Very.”

“Oh, alright…” Grigor replied quietly.

Once Orlo thanked you for hosting him and shuffled out, Grigor’s eyes never left his steps.

 He was quiet over dinner. You had to ask questions about his day and have Sonya’s begging fill the silence. Later, you changed into your nightgown to see Grigor was already in bed.

You saw him curl up to the other side. Not turning around, holding the blanket over his shoulders and leaving your side disproportionally cold.

With a huff, you placed your hands on your hips.

“What is it?” You had a guess, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong” he said in a tone that said something was definitely wrong.

“What is it…tell me…” you wheedled, sitting on the bed and leaning closer to him.

He turned around.

“I understand we agreed to follow orders to marry. Not for us. Our countries, the safety of your family and for their workers and tenets to not go hungry, for protection, the alliance, and for Russia to succeed against the Swedes… but I know you didn’t choose to marry me…if you…if you…are in love… then I guess it would make it easier…but you will at least be honest with me and not play around when you fall in love with some man!”

“In love? With Orlo?!” you added.

His head snapped back at the sound of his name.

“If you love the prick, then that’s fine! It will make you bear being here better- it’s all fine!” He if it will make you bear this, bear being married to me…”

“I’m not in love with Orlo!” you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away.

“What…you aren’t? Both of you always talk together.”

 “I always talk with the empress, and Tatyana and everyone else too. They’re my friends. He’s my friend as well… and…I…I promised you I won’t hurt you. That I will do my best not to hurt you…and you’re obviously hurt…” you reasoned.

The clock chimed the hour in the back.

“I…yes, I was…I had memories of when…you know…” he muttered out, looking down.

You folded your arms and turned away from him.

“Well, have you ever kissed Georgiana since our marriage? I guess you can run back to her, like I’m apparently running to Orlo. Should I be worried about her?”

“Uh-no! Not at all! We’ve barely talked since the betrothal! I talk more to Sonya than I do to her in a fortnight!” he said, pointing to the dog curled asleep on her pillow.

You crossed your arms and started to laugh a little. A smile cracked on his thin face as well.

“If I have no reason to suspect you of anything with George, you have no reason to suspect anything of me and Orlo!” you reasoned with a shrug.

Leaning forward, you pulled more of the cover to your side. He relented.

 Both of you were tense. Words left your voice.

“Just dinner and drinks with your friend, nothing more. Perfectly normal.” You assured.

Even if it meant eating in his chambers with large portraits all over the wall and a big green bed on the other side. Peter stood up and greeted you both. His arms were wide, pearls dangling from his neck.

“Ah, hello! Join me!” Peter cheered. “Grigor-make yourself at home! There’s already some food.

You carefully walked in, placing yourself on the couch and folded your hands in front of your lap. Unsure of what to do or say. A finger nudged you.

“Here, Y/N…here’s the seat for you!” your husband said, taking his large hands around your waist and picking you up as you let out a smile.

Grigor placed you on his lap, like he did on your wedding. Smiling, you accepted the feeling of him nearby and settled your weight. The closeness far more natural than ever. Grigor’s arms were warm as they passed dishes around from one man to the Emperor. A serf poured a Kiev vdoka and you enjoyed yourselves.

“I tell you- fucked a horse! It’s just a rumor-but can you believe it!” he said.

Laughing in spite of yourself, you shook your head insisting “no, I don’t!”

Smiling. Laughing. Everything felt normal. You laughed so hard you almost snorted your drinkand covered your mouth, laughing more at the dirtier humor. Years ago, your mother would have become so uncomfortable at such words she would excuse herself and complain about it later. Laughs held back were finally released, you jaw uhrt and your cheeks felt hot.

“And that’s what hapoens when you use the duck whistle on the balcony-“Oh, Grigor! Have I fucked your wife yet?”

The drink you were sipping almost spat out of your mouth and you coughed it out. Both of you froze again. You felt Grigor tense up. His breath quickened. His face turned white and then red and then white again. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Turning your head back, you began to give a charming smile at the emperor, even giving the little half smile you noticed to do. You decided if the subject came up, you would be prepared.

“Your highness, of yes, of course we’ve fucked. Several times!” you said.

Where he couldn’t see, you kicked Grigor’s leg to alert him.

“Oh, really!” he said.

“Ah! What a Casanova you are, Emperor! Losing track! But…”

You circled the rim of your glass, and then added on.

“I have an eternally dry pussy, can’t suck cock to save my life, and an ass so tight that deflects any object near the hole so it’s been rather disappointing. It’s a miracle my husband tolerates me. He’s hardly been able to finish the job!”

He tilted his head, pondering it with a hmmmm. Glancing at Grigor, you quickly mouthed “play along.” His eyes bright, he nodded at you, and then to the Emperor in agreement.

“Yes! Fucking Y/N is a total disappointment. Remember her place? They’re boring, plain people even when fucking.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his eyes up to the sky as if thinking about the fake experience. Not that it was to think.

“Humph. I…I think you’re right. It was disappointing. Grigor, if you need me to order you a whore, let me know.”

You kept your hand on his and you saw his eyes dart in confusion and realization, his brain thinking a hundred thoughts.

“Please pour me another drink…” you said, holding your cup to a serf.

“Besdies, Catherine…she’s been having all these ideas about art. And I saw a portrait and I…I cried! I fucking cried-can you believe it? I never knew she could..could even make me feel like that!”

 As you left the chambers, you squeezed his hand. Both of you let out a breath and continued some nervous laughter until you were both home.

“That was brilliant!” He praised, sinking in relief in the chair. There was already a fire crackling, drawing warmth into the chilly room.

“I knew he would bring it up, soon. So, I might as well. Now you don’t have to worry about anything…at least for now…” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, but the party tomorrow…you’ll be careful. I think people will be very merry and he might…get carried away…”

“Just give him a galloon a vodka then, he’ll won’t be able to stand.”

 --------------------------------------------------

As the party the next night raged on, it struck you that it was Grigor who was well on his way to drinking a gallon of vodka. The rooms glowed yellow orange with all of the candles. Stringed guitars played out dancing tunes with throaty Russian lyrics where although the words were hard to understand, you had to tap your toes. Women walked by with snakes draped over their necks and you stared in frightened awe at the creature, as if in Eden. Your own gown was a pale pink with bows on the stomacher, a ruffled skirt beneath the first one, and you hair done up in flowers and feathers. You even agreed to wear a beauty mark of a small dog on your cheek. Girgor himself had a grey wig and his finest, deep green suit. He eyed plates of vodka, reaching for two small glasses and downing them…and supper would be served in an hour.

You noticed and Empress and Emperor dancing. She swished her pale pink skirt and he twirled in a black skirt, carefree. It was almost like watching a fight, how they were both powerful yet matched each other.”

“Come on, you sad bastards!? Why aren’t you dancing!? Dance! I command you!” Peter cried out in joy.

“Y/N! Y/N- we haven’t danced too much-let’s dance! Dance with me!” Grigor insisted, pulling you further down.

“Grigor, that’s the vodka talking!”

The musicians were warming up for the next piece in the corner.

“I…I don’t know the…” you mumbled in a panic as other couples filled the floor.

“Oh no-just follow me!” He said with a big smile and his face flushed.

  Still you ran out with him, mimicking hand movements and your feet trying to keep up with the steps. If you felt him leading you somewhere, you followed. If you sepearted in lines, you kept an eye on him.

“Girgor…do the trick! The trick!” Peter insisted, running up in the middle.

Eyes wide, you saw your husband grab hold of your body.

“Here. Y/N! I can do it- hold on! Jump up.

He lifted you up in his arms and twirled you up, his arms adjusting to hold you up so that he held you up by your legs, your stomach to his face. You could hear him muffling beneath your clothes.

“We need smof practif…”

But Peter laughed and you heard loud applauding as faces turned to look at you. Even George’s own face had a smile, albeit a sad one.

He set you down.

“Let’s try it again, put your leg on my shoulder…now your other leg..ooof! Now, this one is better!”

He lifted you up so high, you realized you were on his shoulders, and emabarrasingly his head was near your crotch. The court applauhded and laughed and huzzahed. It was so fun you almost forgot your fear of being dropped. you laughed as you held onto his shoulders for deaer life, thrilled to see everyone smaller before you. As if they dhrunk or you became a giant. The chandeliers dripping with diamonds were easy to your touch, your fingertips grazed one as Grigor walked in a circle.

“Ha! I knew you could do it good chap!” Peter applauded before asking.

Grigor placed you down with a smile, he placed his hands on your cheeks and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, then his eyes wandered to some vodka and he took another shot.

 He was singing as the party ended late in the night. You struggled to support him over your shoulders.

“Grigor…be careful…”

Once you got into the room, Sonya woke up from her nap and barked, jumping at your feet. Staggering, you brought him to your bedchambers.

“Let’s get your clothes off…” you said, pulling his coat off and placing it on the floor.

“You wish to see me naked, you could’ve asked, darling…”

Sighing, you poured the hot water into the golden tub.

“If you don’t bathe, then you’re sleeping with Sonya…”

He leaned down in his shift and breeches to the wagging tail beneath him.

“Oh….hello doggie, cute doggie…good doggie…”

“To bath, Grigor!”

Eventually, you got him to bathe enough to where he didn’t reek of alcohol. Once he dried off, you pushed his breeches onto him.

“None of that tonight with you drunk off your head!”

“Can’t I at least kiss you?” he complained childishly.

“Fine, but it stops at kissing!”

Once you finally settled within your own sheets, legs and feet sore from dancing, you barely put the blankets over you when  you felt two large arms wrap themselves around you and hug you tight, pulling you close. He laughed a bit before kissing you on top of your head. You smirked and let him obloge. Then you felt him relax.

“Y/N, I love you….”

You froze solid, your stomach dropping.

“What?”

He took a hand and placed it on your cheek again, before it sloppily fell down.

“Y/N, my sweet angel…I love you…”

Shaking your head, you pulled the covers above you both.

“That’s the vodka talking, now go to sleep….”

He went back to holding you, turning you so that your back was turned to him, you felt and smelt his breath as he kept speaking.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m falling in love with you this minute and…I’m fucking terrified…”

You let his arms settle.

“Don’t wanna…get hurt, get shat on…but every day I’m….falling more in love with you…and it makes me both so happy and scared I could fucking scream…that was why Orlo fucking scared me, and Peter, that wonderful, bastard. I love him, but if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god…”

“Grigor…you need to sleep. You’re drunk. Only time will wear it off.”

Besides, it was better to not get your hopes up.

‘I can’t believe I’m fucking falling in fucking love all over again…never thought after George that I would….never would let myself…thought ”

“But Grigor…you….”

“I’d like to see you…see you happy. See your smiling face before I sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Grigor…do you…do you love me….do you really love me…”

You gave him a small smile. He then rolled on his belly, spread like a starfish. He was snoring deeply in minutes.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too…” you wanted to say.

taglist:  @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joesleee   @grigorlee@itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @rhapsodyrecs @sebastiistan​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @gwiilymslee @isitstraightvodka​ @cherry--coke​

[1dsource]

Author Spotlight: thinlines

Don’t forget to show the author to leave kudos and comments to show the author love!

Truth Would Be

Words: 91k

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused. “Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.” “You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

Hold the Night For Ransom

Words: 4.7k

“Hate that you make me weak.” Louis whispers it like a secret as he watches Harry tracing his lips. Harry could smell it now. Smell Louis’ delicious slick. He sneaks a hand inside the blankets, searching until they reach Louis’ joggers. Wetness meets his fingertips and he growls, shutting his eyes and seeing the red blossom behind his lids. The bursts of desire. “Is that for me?” He asks, opening his eyes and stare into Louis’.

In which Louis tries to prove he doesn't need his alpha and Harry knows it's a losing battle before it begins.

You are in my Bed, but your Heart isn’t

Words: 25k

It was 3 in the morning when Harry felt the dip of the mattress and tiny hands slipping around his waist. Hot and clammy against his cool skin. He could smell other people on Louis and it stank. Louis reeked of tequila, cigarette and alpha. Always the smell of some other alpha. Harry shifted testily.

"Did I wake you Haz?" The boy plastered behind his back grumbled sleepily. Tiny hands snaking under his shirt, lightly scratching his skin. "You have to stop crawling into my bed when you smell like some other alpha." Harry had meant to say "no, go back to sleep" but he couldn't stop his tongue.

"Don't hate me, Harry. I don't want you to hate me."

OR Rock Band AU. Louis is an omega who fucks around, doesn't know the meaning of "feelings" until he starts crawling into Harry's bed at night. Harry gets jealous easily and they all write a lot of songs about each other.

Promise Me You Won’t Run Away

Words: 23k

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

Your Touch Shouldn’t Make Me Feel Like This

Words: 28k

Louis was curled up into Zayn’s side as the alpha ran his hand through the omega’s fringe. Harry slowly took in the scene through the fogginess of his brain. His alpha snarled menacingly as he swallowed.

Right.

Louis, his best friend since first day of uni turned roommate after their second year, the only omega Harry had ever wanted and pined after, had an alpha. An alpha named Zayn.

Fuck.

Uni AU in which Alpha Harry has been in love with his omega friend for the longest time and one motorbike trip to the countryside with Louis made him realize that he could no longer hold back his feelings.

Does she know that I touch You?

Words: 4.9k

“You sure about this?” Louis asked gently, tugging on a loose curl. Harry closed his eyes to the touch.

“Yes. Have an affair with me.” He whispered and it was more than enough.

AU. in exchange for Harry to keep his mouth shut about Louis cheating, they made a deal. Harry could only touch Louis when the sun set and Louis kept denying himself the truth.

This was supposed to be Our Summer

Words: 4k

They were going to the same college and they were in love. What more could Harry ask for? Harry had secretly planned a getaway trip to Fiji for the entire summer. He could already see himself strolling down the white beach, holding hands with a sunkissed Louis and making sweet sweet love under the moon. The sound of the ocean waves harmonizing with Louis' pretty moans. But, when he waved the plane tickets in Louis' face, the smaller boy had given him an apologetic smile and announced that he had accepted some part time jobs and that he was probably gonna be busy working. Working for the whole summer. Not lounging and cuddling with Harry under the tropical sun.

Or a Summer AU in which Louis suddenly took up many part time jobs and Harry didn't figure out why until the end

Blue Summer Rain

Words: 2.5k

Harry worked at a shoe outlet for the summer. One day, Louis happened to wonder in. 

throbs and gleams

Words: 3.7k

au. harry rides motorcycle across the country and finds louis in the middle of a desert. 

Not Scared of Love, Just Scared to Love

Words: 3.9k

“Louis.” Harry said to get the other boy’s attention. Louis’ eyes slid from where it was fixed on the scenery whipping by the window to settle on Harry. “Are you… are you taken?” Louis raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” Louis asked softly. “Are you still the same Louis? Who is not scared of love but scared to love?” Harry asked, feeling the tension in his words, feeling the obvious biting anger. Louis’ mouth fell open, surprised at the words. “I’m not scared of love just scared to love?” He parroted Harry’s words, confusion settling in his blue blue eyes.

Or Louis kisses everybody and Harry really wishes he doesn't. Louis doesn't give a fuck but Harry wants him to.

Part 1 of Able to Love

Demons in my brain, Love

Words: 5.4k

Related to Part 1 (Not Scared of Love, Just Scared to Love) This is told from Louis' POV.

"I can kiss, I can fuck, I can make love, to anyone. But after you. I can’t. Not when I am thinking about you. Not when my thoughts reek of you. You are too much."

Or Louis gets his shit together and confronts Harry.

Part 2 of Able to Love

I’m Looking for Closure

Words: 2.5k

Related to Part 1 and Part 2 (Not Scared of Love, Just Sacred to Love & Demons in my Brain, Love.)

“Say you can read my mind.” Harry said to Louis as he pushed Louis down onto the mattress. Louis squirmed as the covers rubbed against his skin.

“I can’t read your mind.” He said simply to Harry as he reached up to put his hands against Harry’s chest, trailing them down to Harry’s narrow hips.

“My mind is saying that I should just… just fucking go back in time. Go back so I could be your first.” Harry said, leaning down to lick into Louis’ hot mouth.

Or They finally fuck, sorry, I mean, make love.

Part 3 of Able to Love

can’t live another summer without you

Words: 1.5k

Louis was probably the reason why Harry came back after four years in America. They climbed a space net together in the dead of a summer night.

A typical sappy stupid idiots in love Summer fic

Under the falling lights, We met

Words: 1.1k

Under shitty fireworks on a beach, with hair dyed red and positively drunk off his ass, Louis never expected to remember much of that night. It was the Fourth of July when he met a boy with green eyes. Everything was beautiful but unfair at the same time. 

I guess we never really moved on...

Words: 1.3k

“You told me I was a god.”

“You were…. You were my little god.” Louis dropped his burnt out cigarette on the ground and stomped on it, crushing it with his shoes.

“Damn it Harry! I’m not a god. Just a spoiled bastard that wants too much.”

as the light changes

Words: 971

“Why are you here, Harry?” Louis didn’t know what possess him to ask such a nosy question and he avoided Harry’s penetrating stare. “I like your voice.” Harry shrugged. “Oh.” “It’s raspy like you haven’t had water for days. Like you are a flower in the middle of the desert that had long ceased longing for rain. Sounds kind of hopeless, but when you read, I think, the world just stops and listens.”

[timetoresurface]

take you home / JJH

idol!au Jaehyun x Y/N 4k meet cute scenario where you travel solo, and you meet a handsome boy in a random bar // no warnings

optional second part (here) where Y/N reflects on her relationship with Jaehyun.

What was supposed to be a romantic getaway with your so-called soulmate, ended up in a solo soul-searching trip. You had booked an early birthday present for your ex-boyfriend, not knowing he would actually break up with you before you could even tell him you had planned a spectacular gift. Through all your heartbreak  and tears you had forgotten you had a trip on your agenda, but luckily you had your phone to remind you of everything painful. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” “You shouldn’t go. It will only remind you of him.” “You were finally getting over him.” “Just cancel the trip.”

Are a few of the things your friends had said when you told them you were going solo. The past months had indeed been bad, but you were finally leaving it all in the past. This trip could be the start of something new. This fresh start resulted in you helping out in an unknown bar without getting paid. The owner promised you free drinks the moment it would be less busy, but you were already three hours in cleaning tables without an end in sight.

“Y/N can you please check if that table needs more drinks?” The owner of the small establishment pleaded while his hands were trying to fix the cash register. You simply nodded your head and made your way over to the table with rowdy boys. You could tell they didn’t go out much by how they couldn’t take their liquor. 

“Can I get you anything?” You asked them politely while eying their empty drinks. You would rather have them leave so you could finally get your promised free drinks, but they weren’t bad customers.

“Another round please.” A skinny dark haired boy said. You could tell he was a little bit tipsy by his eyes drooping a little bit. Usually, you would find these kind of lightweight people annoying, but this boy made it look charming. 

“Mark, are you sure?” Your eyes moved away from the boy named Mark to the owner of the concerned voice. He seemed to be the only one not even near being tipsy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t having any fun. He was looking at his friend with adoration in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. 

“I actually don’t know what you were drinking. I’m guessing beer?” You asked them innocently while eying their empty beer glasses. The only sober guy at the table laughed while making eye contact with you. He simply nodded his head, but the simple movement stirred something awake in you. Describing him as handsome would be an understatement because he was much more than that. His eyes twinkled in excitement, and his mouth was beautifully formed into a heartwarming smile that could even melt icecaps. His face seemed to be perfectly sculpted by the Gods, and you couldn’t help but to roam your eyes over his almost perfect features. 

“We were drinking Guinness, but I think we should go for something a little less strong.” He smiled, ignoring the fact that you had been not so secretly staring at him. You quickly composed yourself and counted the people around the table. 

“I can work with that.” You simply told them before getting their drinks. You had only been here for a couple of hours, but you knew where everything was and how to work around the confused boss. Not that he was your boss because you technically didn’t work here, but you really wanted your free drinks. 

You had been sitting here alone at the bar with a glass of wine when suddenly a lot of people stormed inside. The owner of the bar hadn’t anticipated a busy Wednesday night and was short on staff. You had heard him calling some people that worked here, but no one was free tonight. Blame it on the glass of wine, or blame it on your loneliness, but you immediately offered to help. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You were pouring the beer into the correct glasses when someone interrupted your flow. It was the same guy you had been staring at not even five minutes ago. 

“Of course. How can I help you?” You smiled at him while closing the tab.

“I can’t seem to find the toilet, do you know where it is?” He asked you innocently, and you almost couldn’t contain yourself to squeal out loud by his adorableness. 

“What if I told you I didn’t know where the toilet was?” You asked him teasingly, but you weren’t lying. You actually didn’t know where the toilet was. 

“I would probably pee my pants.” He confessed with a nervous laugh.

“Well, I actually don’t know where the toilet is, but I suspect down the stairs.” You told him earnestly while pointing at the direction of the stairs. He followed your movement, and noticed the toilet sign. You heard him sigh in relief, and it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

“Thank you so much.” He said before making his way down the stairs. 

“It was no problem.” You told him, but he was already out of earshot. You softly smiled at yourself while pouring the remaining drinks before bringing them over to their table.

“I don’t think I can handle more beer.” The boy named Mark, who had ordered more drinks, said. 

“You don’t have to drink beer.” You told him while putting his drink hesitantly before him. 

“But you already poured it so beautifully. It would be a waste and a disgrace to your work.” His shoulders dropped in despair while he admired the glass of beer. 

“I can also make a neat iced tea. You should see me pouring that straight out of the bottle. That would be a waste and disgrace to my work if you didn’t drink it.” You told him seriously. You hadn’t expected him to burst out laughing. You hadn’t expected his laugh to be so contagious, but when the other guy returned everyone at the table was a laughing mess. 

“What happened?”

“Jaehyun, she’s so funny.” Mark slurred his words while gesturing toward you. Your cheeks flushed at the unexpected comment and unwanted attention that suddenly came by his remark. 

“Iced tea?” You asked Mark after a couple of seconds of awkwardness, and he simply nodded his head. You smiled at him while taking away his glass of beer. You heard Mark explaining to the boy named Jaehyun what had happened when he was gone while you were making your way over to the bar again. You took a sip from the unwanted beer before getting a glass for Mark’s iced tea. You actually didn’t lie, this bar does pour cheap bottles of an unknown brand iced tea in fancy glasses. You completed the drink with a slice of lemon before presenting it to Mark.

“Wow!” Was the only thing Mark said when you gave him his drink. “I’m in awe by the perfect ratio of bottled iced tea and lemon. This is a masterpiece.” He completed his train of thoughts before he burst out in laughter. Again, you hadn’t anticipated his reaction, and you had forgotten how contagious his laughter was. The only difference was that you could hear the low laugh of Jaehyun mixed with the others, but his stood out. His laughter could work as a siren call, and you would willingly follow it to the end of the world. 

“I’m glad you enjoy my work.” You said when everyone calmed down a little bit.

“You’re doing a good job.” Mark stated before drinking a large sip of his not so personalized drink. 

“Thank you.” You told them before returning to your spot at the bar. The owner of the bar had finally finished making the register, and you could feel the air of calmness in the bar. Most people seemed to have disappeared to another spot. It was just you, the owner and the rowdy boys. 

“Y/N! Thank you so much for helping. You can have free drinks tonight and tomorrow night.” He told you with a tired smile. 

“It was no problem. I’m happy to help.” You told him, mirroring his expression. You had only worked for a couple of hours, but it was so intense it had drained all the energy out of you. 

“Are you sure you’re not looking for a job?” He asked you.

“I don’t actually live here: otherwise, I would have accepted.” You told him softly while patting his shoulder. You took off your apron before sitting in your spot at the bar.

“It’s a shame.” He said while removing your apron from the bar.

“Can I get a glass of wine?” You asked him nicely.

“You know where it is.” He told you while gesturing toward the fridge filled with wine. He made his way over to you and seated himself next to you. 

“Can I get you anything?” You asked him while you were pouring yourself a glass of wine. You actually didn’t mind because you could take the more expensive one without having to pay for it.

“Red wine. The good one.” He seemed to have had the same idea. Well, it is his bar.

“Coming right up.”

—

The next day you woke up in your hotel room feeling a tiny bit dizzy. Maybe you felt that way because of the free wine you had consumed the other night. Or perhaps it was because you had cried yourself to sleep. You had been fine all day because you had kept yourself busy, but the moment you entered your tiny room, it all came crashing down. 

You were indeed alone in a foreign city while staying in a romantic bed and breakfast thing where only couples go for a honeymoon or whatever. Anyone would cry in that situation, or that’s what you tell yourself. You didn’t cry because you missed him. You cried because you missed having someone in your life to share your thoughts with. 

But, today is a new day, and a new day means not dwelling on the past. A new day means obsessing over the handsome guy from last night. After they finished their drinks, he was the one who came up to pay. He spoke to you first, but the owner quickly told him you actually didn’t work there. He seemed surprised by that information, and your temporary boss explained the situation to him.

“So, you’re like a real-life hero?” He had said to you while your boss was trying to get the paying machine to work.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.” You told Jaehyun with a soft blush noticeable on your cheeks.

“I said you were a gift from the Gods. That’s kind of the same.” Your boss deadpanned, making you roll your eyes while Jaehyun laughed at the scene before him. 

That guy seemed to laugh a lot, and you hoped he would never stop because his smile had healed you in some ways. It had made your heart’s doors open to just a crack. He had given you hope that men were still beautiful, and the world was still peaceful. You noticed you were still thinking about him while you were roaming the streets. You wondered if he was still in this city, and if so, where would he be? Would he also be exploring with a camera in hand trying to capture the movement in silence? So many questions, and so little answers.

You were quietly taking a picture of a bridge from the side of the river when you noticed some loud screams and laughs. They reminded you of the boys from last night, so you automatically turned your head toward the noise. There were a lot of people and some cameras focused on a handful of handsome men dancing to a song you had never heard before. The song suited their cool-guy outfits, and it made you smile. There were also a lot of girls screaming on the sidelines for their favourite boy. It reminded you of the time when you went to a One Direction concert with your friends. Oh, being young, naive and obsessed with boybands. What a wonderful time in a young girl’s life. 

You moved closer to the commotion and immediately recognized Mark at the centre of the group. He looked in perfect shape, and you were glad he had accepted your iced tea. You had a feeling he wouldn’t be standing there if he had taken the second beer. You gravitated to the side behind all the screaming girls. You gently seated yourself at the side of the river while keeping your eyes focused on the dancing boys. You didn’t recognize the language they were singing in, but it didn’t bother you at all. 

Finally, you spotted Jaehyun. The boy who had been in your thoughts ever since you had briefly met him last night. You didn’t think he could be even more handsome in broad daylight, but he brightly outshone the sun in his leather jacket. You zoned out watching Jaehyun move effortlessly to the beat, you hadn’t noticed when the music had stopped. They were now saying their goodbyes and thanking their fans for showing up on such short notice. 

Somehow your eyes locked with Jaehyun’s, and a big smile formed on his face when he noticed you looking at him. It was the second time he had caught you staring at him, but it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He enthusiastically waved to you, and some fans thought it was directed to them, but you and Jaehyun knew it was meant for you. You softly waved back at him before retreating back to the other side of the busy street, leaving Jaehyun behind. 

You strolled through the city with one thing on your mind: how can someone be so good-looking? It seemed a bit unfair to you that one person could hold the earth’s beauty with just a smile. It’s only fair that he is in a famous boyband so that many people can drown in his grace. The pictures you took that day were taken with a different mentality of the city. It somehow didn’t seem so dull anymore. You noticed the colours and wondered if the world had always been so bright. 

Eventually, you found your way back to the bar that had promised you free drinks. You hoped the owner would still recognize you and would keep his promise. Also, it would be nice to have someone to talk to after spending the day by yourself. The moment you entered you felt like you were being watched, but you tried to ignore the feeling. It was probably because you had spent the day alone, and people could smell the loneliness on you. 

“Hi!” You said while seating yourself at the bar. He immediately recognized you and presented a glass of white wine in front of you.

“I was wondering when you would show up. I thought you were going to ditch this bottle of wine.” The owner said while gesturing to one of the more expensive bottles. 

“I will never leave a good bottle of chardonnay alone.” You told him seriously, which made him laugh a little bit. 

“I have some boxes to bring up, can you maybe see if that table in the corner needs anything?” He asked you with pleading eyes, and you agreed. Happy to be doing something useful.

“I got your back.” You told him while getting off your seat, ready to help the poor man out. The table he had mentioned was just one guy softly scrolling through his phone. He seemed to be getting a lot of messages and calls, but he ignored them all. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked the man. He turned around and your eyes locked with the one guy who had occupied your mind the whole day. 

“We have to stop running into each other like this.” Jaehyun smiled, giving you the same look of adoration he had given his friend the day before. 

“I think you want to run into me like this.” You laughed, but you were quickly interrupted by the owner of the bar. He carried two glasses of wine and some snacks. 

“It’s on the house.” He simply said before leaving you alone with Jaehyun. You had barely spoken two sentences with the guy where one of them was him asking where the toilet was. You were more strangers than anything. Blame it on the lack of social contact you had today. Maybe you could simply blame it on yourself because you couldn’t stay focused for more than five minutes when he was near. 

“You can sit with me?” Jaehyun asked you insecure, and somehow he broke the awkward vibes you were giving off. He seemed to do that a lot around you, breaking some of the defence mechanisms you had built around yourself. 

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself while taking a seat opposite him. He seemed pleased by your actions and leaned a bit forward. His eyes searching for yours before he spoke.

“I’m Jaehyun. It’s nice to put a name to the beautiful face.” He said with a prominent smile on his face, which only made you blush. 

“I could say the same.” You said before taking a sip of your wine. He mirrored your actions, both of you not knowing what to do or say in a situation like this. It felt like the first time you had met someone new, and all social etiquette vanished from your brain.

“I’m sorry for being awkward,” Jaehyun stated, avoiding your eyes while doing so. 

“I think it is adorable, and I’m also glad I’m not the only awkward one sitting at this table.” You told him, and he quickly locked his eyes with yours. The newfound confidence changed his body language. He had popped his elbows on the table to support his head so he could entirely focus on you, and only you. His phone was lighting up in silence, but he simply ignored everything. 

“Are you from here?” He asked you while he rested his head on his hands. His long eyelashes being the only thing you could stare at. 

“No, are you?” You answered and asked him. Usually, you loved talking the other person’s ears off, but with Jaehyun, you wanted to know more about him. What was the driving force in Jaehyun’s story? What was his favourite colour? You want to know it all.

“No, I’m actually from Korea. Are you here alone?” He asked you, and you could tell he was a little bit worried by the frown on his face. You wanted him to laugh that low laugh of his again.

“This is my ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ trip.” You softly explained to him with a smile on your face. It had been a long time since you had smiled so much because of one person.

“The Julia Roberts movie?” He asked you interested, engrossed by your thoughts. 

“That one.” You confirmed before taking a large sip from your glass. Once again he mirrored your actions, which made you smile and feel warm on the inside.

“Are you going through a divorce?” He laughed, and you quickly shook your head. You couldn’t believe he actually knew what you were talking about. Usually people never understood your references.

“Worse, I’m going through heartbreak because of a fuck-boy. Why are you here, though? I bey your story is more interesting.”

“I hardly doubt that. Did you pay attention this afternoon?” He asked you, and you quickly nodded your head.

“You’re in a boyband?” You asked him softly while looking around. You didn’t want anyone to hear your conversation, afraid a wild fangirl could appear. You had seen their fans for a couple of minutes, and it was enough for you to be scared. You had been a fangirl yourself in your teenage years, you knew what they were capable of. 

“Exactly. That’s why I’m here because we have a concert tomorrow.” He explained to you, grabbing your attention again. 

“Shouldn’t you be practising?” You asked him softly. Why would he be here drinking wine, when he has a concert tomorrow? It couldn’t be because of you, right?

“I actually should, but I really wanted to go back to this bar for some strange and unknown reason.” He rested his hands on his lap while looking down. Was he getting shy now?

“What if I hadn’t shown up tonight?” You boldly asked him. If tonight was the only night you had with him, you wanted to make it count. You wanted to remember the spark in Jaehyun’s eyes that made butterflies explode in your stomach. You wanted to remember the way his laugh could melt your icy heart.

“I don’t know. I just knew I could find you here.” He confessed softly, and you couldn’t help but look lovingly at him. He just had that aura around him. You just can’t help but love Jaehyun. He shouldn’t waste a moment without that smile of his that could cure any disease.

“So you admit you were looking for me?” You asked him teasingly, and his ears turned a little bit red by your accusation. 

“I never said I wasn’t. I thought my intentions were pretty clear from the start.” He tried to recover, but the redness spread over his cheeks.

“And what are your intentions?” 

“I actually don’t know. I just wanted to get to know your name.” He confessed to you again, which made your heart stop for just a second. A moment passed when you were both simply staring into each other’s eyes as if you were paused in a cliché romantic comedy. 

“Well, you learned my name.” You finally broke the silence.

“I’m not yet satisfied if I’m honest.” He told you softly, making you blush in return.

“You can be honest with me.” You simply told him, trying to fight the static atmosphere. A strange feeling washed over you while staring at him, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was the feeling of the promise of a memorable moment with Jaehyun. 

“Can you be honest with me?” He asked you softly, not wanting to break the tension. You simply nodded your head at his question. Anticipation and adrenaline taking over your body. Not wanting to cross the line where the mystery would fade, but also craving to know where this conversation would take you.

“Do you want to get some ice-cream with me?” He asked you, his voice low it could make panties drop in a second, but the intention so innocent it made you question your sanity. You were craving something to cool you off, caused by the man sitting opposite you. What’s the point in rushing before it begins?

[be-the-spark-flyboy]

Invisible String (1/3)

A/n: This was supposed to be a drabble requested by @spider-starry​ for the cliche prompts list. But then my hand slipped, so damn fking hard, so ya oops.

Pairing: Poe x Reader (modern au)

Warnings: Swearing, angst, nightmares, brief mention of dead parents

Prompts: There's only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling + We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town

Word count: 4k~

---

So I talked to the manager. We have a slight issue,” Rey grimaced, wringing her hands. “We’re short of one room, and they said that they’re fully booked. No spares.” She sighed, throwing herself back onto the couch.

“What? How did that happen?” You asked her, taking a seat beside her.

“I may have miscounted the number of rooms we had to book,” Rey winced, “I mean, planning a wedding is so stressful, why is it so stressful?”

“Okay, okay. So what do we do now?” Guests were just slowly starting to arrive. You hoped Rey already had a solution to the problem.

“Um, Finn suggested, since you have a room to yourself, maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing with someone?” Then she quickly added, “No pressure, only if you’re comfortable, or I can find some other solution.”

You had been helping Finn and Rey plan their wedding for months. The beach resort you had booked for the wedding had been a popular one. Of course, they were fully booked. There was no other solution.

“Fine, I guess, if the other person is okay with it?” you shrugged.

“Oh, that’s great! You’re a true lifesaver,” Rey exclaimed.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Um, about that,” she hesitated.

“Rey?” You narrowed your eyes at her. Who could it be that she’s so reluctant to tell you?

“It’s Poe,” No.

“Rey,” This was not happening. Share a fucking room? With Poe motherfriggin Dameron? Your fucking ex-boyfriend? Was Rey out of her goddamn mind?

“You can still back out! I’m not forcing you to do anything. It's just that, you know my grandfather. He’s going to make a big deal out of this if he finds out we have problems with the lodgings.” Rey launched into a full-on rant which you knew could last for several minutes if you didn’t stop her. ”Oh god, why did I even send Palpatine an invitation? I don’t even like him!”

“Rey, it's okay,” You sighed, interrupting her ramble. “I’ll do it,” Of course you’d do it. It was your best friend's wedding. You’d do just about anything to keep her happy.

This time she threw herself on top of you, tackling you with a hug. You had worked way too hard on this wedding for someone like Palpatine to spoil the event nitpicking at everything. If the price for that was to spend two nights in the same bed as your ex, you’d do it, for Finn and Rey.

“Great! Finn said Poe should be reaching in an hour or two,” Oh gods, that was fast. But it's better to get it over with right?

“Have you told him yet?” you asked her.

“Oh, not yet. I wanted to get your approval first,”

“What if he isn’t okay with it?”

“Nah, I don’t think that would be a problem,” She assured you.

—-

Poe hesitated before your door. Would it be too late to turn around and run? He was absolutely terrified of facing you. You agreed to share a room with him, so you didn’t hate him right?

Three short raps to the door then Poe waited for you to open it. He raked a hand through his hair, shorn to a length that would be considered neat. So unlike the unruly curls flopping onto his forehead and the full beard he was sporting just last week, dangerously toeing the line between sexy bed hair and caveman. It didn’t feel right to show up to a wedding like that. Especially since he was the best man.

Poe felt his chest tighten like a rope was tied around him, twisting tighter with each passing second until he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. The door swung open and the remaining air emptied from his lungs. There you stood, looking at him. It was you, really you.

Those eyes he hadn’t seen in more than a decade. It really shouldn’t have affected him that badly after so long but he had no control over the way his heart threw itself against his ribs over and over again. No control over his hands as he white-knuckled the backpack slung across one shoulder, trying to stop the shaking. He definitely shouldn’t have felt lightheaded just looking at you.

If he wasn’t so lost in his own emotions, he would’ve noticed that you weren’t doing so well yourself. You were pretty sure you were hearing the dial tone playing somewhere. Or was it just in your head? Your mouth worked but not a single word came out. What could you possibly say to him? It was Poe, but at the same time, he looked nothing like the boy you knew more than a decade ago.

The teenager who had so carelessly shrugged off the love you offered him, leaving everything behind in search of something better. But that was more than a decade ago and the man who stood before you had changed. Just like you were no more the eighteen-year-old too heartbroken to leave your room for weeks. No, you weren’t the same people anymore.

“I um, need to go check on the catering. M-make yourself comfortable,” You threw a forced smile at him, pushing past him before he can react.

No, you didn’t have to check on the catering, it wasn’t arriving until next morning, but you just threw the first excuse that popped up in your head before you were forced to make small talk with the last person you ever wanted to talk to.

Poe watched you almost sprint to the elevator, too dumbfounded to act. Your first words to him in years was you brushing him off. Good start.

He could’ve just asked Finn about you, but Poe felt like that would be prying. If you wanted him to know you would’ve told him, right? If you wanted him, you would’ve spoken to him. Poe sighed, walk into the room sitting on the edge of the bed, yanking off his boots and socks.

A lot had happened over the last decade, from joining the air force against his father’s wishes to watching his best friend get shot out of the sky and being honourably discharged, a broken man returning home with the horrors of battle and loss etched into his being. But Kes was there with open arms, ready to put his son back together, no matter how long it took. If he ever had the chance to raise a child of his own, Poe wanted to be exactly like his father.

There was once when Poe had thought too little of the simple routine of a normal life. How could anyone settle for doing the same thing over and over again for decades? But now he yearned for any type of normalcy in his own life.

He wondered if you had it. A normal life, going to work in the morning, returning to loving boyfriend at night. Date nights in the weekends, planning vacations to get away from it all. You came here alone, that was saying something, right? Or did you have someone waiting for you back home?

Poe should really be paying more attention to his surroundings, because he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking, for five whole minutes before he realized it. He really should’ve seen this coming. The room was supposed to be for one person. So there was one queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, staring back at him, mocking him.

Why did he agree to this? Why did you agree to this? It wasn’t that he had any problems keeping his hands to himself. He’d more sooner bite his own fingers off than laying one on you without your consent.

There weren’t any other options for him. The only other furniture in the room was a table and a chair, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you sleep anywhere except the bed. He’d slept in worse places, a chair wasn’t that bad. Or perhaps he would forgo sleep for the night. He needed a shower, and maybe just a few minutes of sleep. Then he would get out of your way.

---

It was late when you decided to return to your room. It had been hours since the sun had set and your feet hurt from all the standing. You were more than ready to go back to your room and crash in that bed that looked so damn inviting.

There was only one problem. One that you couldn’t just ignore so easily, because you had to share a bed with said problem. In all honesty, you had no idea how you felt about Poe. Surely seeing him after all these years felt a tiny bit weird and very nerve-wracking, especially since the last words you had exchanged with him weren’t very kind. You didn’t hate Poe Dameron. That was for sure. But you had absolutely no idea how he felt about you.

You found an empty bench, facing the midnight sea, watching the waves crashing into the sand. A calm settled in your bones, the kind that made you wish you could be in that moment forever. No wonder people were willing to pay so much for a few nights here.

You could hear the soft strumming of a guitar from a distance and that caused your thoughts to propel straight towards the one person you were trying not to think of. The goofy little songs he would sing to you, strumming his guitar with deft fingers like he was born to make music.

Poe Dameron was born to do a lot of things. Apparently, loving you was not one of them.

You sighed heavily into the crisp night air. It was getting late. And as much as you loved it there, you still had to go to sleep soon if you wanted to be up in time the next morning.

You were surprised to see that the lights were still on in your room, but when you stepped inside you saw Poe curled up in a fetal position, fast asleep on one side of the bed. His curls looked a little damp and the smell of soap lingered in the air from the shower he took. A small mercy, at least you didn’t have to make small talk until the next morning.

Poe looked so calm and at peace when he was sleeping. You definitely didn’t share Poe’s sentiments about prying into your personal life. You were aware of everything that happened in his life since he left. Finn had told you about the state he was in when he returned after being discharged from the air force almost two years ago. You will never admit it but you still cared about him after all these years, you never stopped caring about him.

Silently, you padded around the room, careful not to wake him as you changed into your soft t-shirt and sleep shorts and slid into the bed beside him.

---

Poe jolted awake, shirt soaked in sweat, gasping for air as the image of a blazing cockpit remained seared into the back of his eyes. The disorienting darkness wasn’t helping in the least as his vision blurred with tears. The only thing he could feel was a warm hand on his chest and another on his face. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears and a voice calling out his name in the distance like he was miles away.

The only light was coming from the glass balcony doors. It took Poe a few long seconds to recognize where he was. He flattened his palms on top of the sheets, the soft cotton cool and smooth beneath his palms, as he forced air into his burning lungs.

He wasn’t there anymore, he was safe.

“Poe?” your voice came clearer as you smoothed the tears off his face. Your face came into view above him in the dark, eyebrows pulled together in worry. Poe felt your fingers in his hair, running through the damp strands fingernails lightly scraping his scalp. You didn’t realize it, but that helped more than anything to ground him as the panic finally released its hold on him.

“I'm okay,” Poe croaked out when he felt like he could breathe again, but his whole body still felt tense. He wasn’t okay by any means, his hands still shook when you handed him a water bottle from your side table, but at least the worst was over. Poe pulled himself up by his wobbling arms, sitting against the headboard.

“Nightmare?” your voice cut through the heavy silence in the room as you joined him. He nodded, head downcast, staring at the bottle in his hands. “Wanna talk about it?” Poe looks at you like that was the last thing he ever expected you to say to him. You were offering to help him? After what he did to you? Sure, that was years ago, he was young and dumb, but you two never really had the chance to talk about it. He was under the impression that you hated him, he surely deserved it.

But you didn’t look like you hated him and he couldn’t help but notice how adorable you looked with your hair all mused up, swaddled in an oversize t-shirt. The urge to wrap his arms around you, lay his head on your chest and never let go threatened to swallow him whole. How could he have been so stupid to ever let you go?

You tilted your head to the side in question as the silence stretched between you. Oh god, he had been staring the whole time. He looked away from you, clearing his throat.

“No, not really,” he replied. He’d done enough talking, he just wanted to forget about it. Going back to sleep was definitely not an option and he didn’t want to keep you awake any longer. “Sorry I woke you up, you should go back to sleep,” his voice was barely a whisper by the end of the sentence. He was just so tired.

“It's okay,” you settled back into your side of the bed but Poe made no move like he had any intention to go back to sleep. “You’re not going back to sleep?” you ask.

“No, I don’t think so,” He answered truthfully. He didn’t want to risk getting pulled into another nightmare. The room fell silent again, the only sound the barely audible distant crashing of waves. Suddenly the thought of you going back to sleep and leaving him alone with his thoughts didn’t seem so ideal. Poe felt his chest constrict in barely contained panic when you spoke.

“How have you been, Poe?” You quietly asked in the dark, almost like you didn’t expect a response from him. Poe swallowed the lump in his throat and burrowed deeper into the covers until the two of you laid facing each other.

“Not too bad,” he shrugged, his voice barely holding as he spoke, but he carried on nevertheless. “What about you?”

“Same, I guess,” you replied. Poe could make out your eyes glinting in the dark, suddenly thrown back into his childhood bedroom when you would sneak in late at night. When you were best friends, you’d spend the night in each other’s company chatting and laughing in hushed tones, careful not to wake up his father. Then you grew older and talking turned to other activities. If Kes knew, he never spoke of it.

“How is Kes doing?” you asked as if you were thinking the same thing. An admittedly large part of him hoped you were. Those memories got him through so many nights when he was bunking with his squadmates but never felt more alone. They weren’t easy to forget. You weren’t easy to forget.

“He’s doing fine. Great, actually,” The thought of his father made him smile. Maybe that was your ploy. “You know, he actually managed to finish that motorcycle restoration he was working on. A few years ago, but he wouldn’t let me touch it,” That made you chuckle, and oh how he missed that sound.

“He still doesn’t trust you after you broke the taillight,” you recounted.

“It was an accident, for goodness sake,”

Silence slowly took hold again as your laughter died down, and it hit you more heavily than ever. You missed Poe so much. Sure, he hurt you when he up and left so easily as if you meant next to nothing to him, but he meant everything to you. You shouldn’t have let the bitterness and resentment get the best of you. You missed so much of his life.

“Mom’s sickness got worse after I graduated,” you spoke again. “I couldn’t stay in the house after she died so I sold it. And college wasn’t great either, I almost dropped out,”

You shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t have been easy moving to a different state all on your own, with no one to lean on, no one to go to for help. At least you had Finn and Rey.

“But things worked out, and everything is okay now,” you smiled at him. Poe reached out and took your hand in his, shuffling closer to you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words felt too heavy, too shameful to even say out loud.

“For what?” You asked.

“I should’ve been there,”

“Poe,” you sighed. “You know, I was so upset after you left, I refused to even talk about you for like almost a year after that,” He looked like he was going to interrupt with another apology but you stopped him. “Senior year was hell after you graduated, even with Finn and Rey right there. But you know what? I understood why you wanted to leave so desperately.” Oh? This wasn’t where he expected this to go but he let you continue anyways.

“I mean, it was a great place to grow up and all but there really wasn’t any future there. I saw it when I finally graduated the year after. I’m not saying I supported your decision to just throw away everything and leave so suddenly like that. It’s just that, neither of us was mature enough to handle that decision properly,” Poe nodded slowly. Looking back, there were so many things he would change if he could. You were right, you were both so young and dumb.

“You know how sometimes you feel like if you don’t do take an opportunity when its right there, you’ll never see it again? That’s what it felt like,” He sighed. “I just really wanted to follow mom’s footsteps so badly. Dad wasn’t too thrilled either. He said I should take more time to think about something so life-altering,”

Did he regret it? The question hung heavily in the air between the two of you, lying on the tip of your tongue, rattling around his head and not for the first time. Some part of him didn’t want to answer.

He didn’t want to regret it. Didn’t want to voice out that the biggest ambition of his life was the reason he laid there a broken shell of a man in many ways. But one thing he knew was that if he hadn’t chased after that desire, if he had let himself take the ‘safe’ option, he would’ve hated himself.

I missed you. Those three words he held back. What right did he have to say it when he was the one that left when he was the one to cause you so much hurt?

“Can we just-” You hesitated. Was it too much to ask for? “Can we just be friends again?” You asked meekly.

Just a few hours ago, he was under the impression that you wanted nothing to do with him. He was still reeling from the fact that you even considered talking to him. You wanted to be friends again? There was nothing more he wanted.

“Yeah, okay,” he replied, very eloquently.

---

Poe woke up to the soft scent of flowers. And then he realized that it was because his face was buried in your hair and he was smelling your shampoo. Poe rubbed the remaining dregs of sleep from his eyes as he fully awoke to you laying almost completely on top of him.

Your form gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Poe considered shifting away from you before you woke up but your arms were tightly wound around him and your weight was settled over him, so warm and soft. He didn’t want to move.

Shit, how did you two end up like this? The last thing he remembered was talking to you, catching up on the decade he had left you behind for. Did you fall asleep like this? How were you going to react to it? He sure as hell didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. But the way your face was buried in the crook of his neck gave him the impression that you weren’t exactly uncomfortable.

He was probably thinking too much about it. He was just thinking that he should go back to sleep and deal with it when you wake up when you slowly stirred awake. Poe froze as you lifted your head and blinked at him blearily.

“Mornin’” you rasped before you realize the position you were in. You were so close to him, you could feel his breath fanning against your cheek and your face heated.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” The pet name earned a soft, sleepy smile from you which sent his heart violently thundering in his chest. Hopefully, you didn’t hear it.

You planted a palm on the mattress beside his head, trying to lift yourself off him, but the only thing you managed to do was position yourself right above him as if your previous position wasn’t awkward enough.

You felt Poe’s hands on your hips steadying you on top of him as your elbow came down on the other side of his head, unintentionally caging him under you. Your mind was too sluggish to let you move, you decided, because you stayed there hovering above him unable to move.

Or maybe it was because he was looking at you like that. The heat in eyes robbed the oxygen from your lungs and you watched his throat bob as his grip on your waist became just a fraction harder. You should have moved but you felt frozen in place. He was so close. So close that you could kiss him if you tilted your head just a little-

The shrill sound of your alarm popped the small bubble the two of you found yourselves in. You jolted away from him, pawing at the side table as you reached to grab your phone.

The previous tension melted into an awkward silence as you set your phone back onto the side table. Did you almost kiss him? Christ, what were you thinking? Poe slowly sat up beside you.

“Um, sorry I kept you up for so long last night,” he gave you a small sheepish smile.

“No, it’s not a problem. I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “I um, I should go get ready,” you awkwardly gestured before getting out of the bed.

You had a long day ahead of you.

---

The Dameron taglist (open): @writefightandflightclub @arkofblake @yougottakeeponkeepinon @multifandomlife22 @skymerons @smol-peter-parker @rae-rae-patcha @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @hkmultifandom @cloud-leader @elmoakepoke @staringmoony @valhallavalkyrie9 @the-cry-of-youth @liadamerondjarin @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @takemepedropascal @xremember-me-notx @softly-sad @loserbelle

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Noona, Do You Have a Boyfriend? | Part 3

Genre: Smut, but also fluff yuck

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Who knew that continuing to bang the boy who wouldn’t leave you alone would make him even more clingy AND lead to you developing some confusing, totally unwelcome feelings towards him? 

Warnings: femdom, sub!jisung, brat!jisung, dom!reader, dancer!au, dancer!reader, slapping, praise kink, also degradation kink, lots of dirty talk as per usual, cumplay, one (1) slap, facesitting, cum eating, suffocation by way of vagina, and fluff.

Part 1, Part 2 Ever since that day at the practice room, you and Jisung have been hooking up regularly. And yes, you’re perfectly aware how bad of an idea that is, especially since he’s now acting like you’re his girlfriend despite you repeatedly denying it. It’s not that he’s delusional; he knows you’re not really dating, he just thinks he’s being cute…or he’s doing it to annoy you, or both— honestly who knows with that boy? And yes, sleeping with him will only encourage this sort of behavior, but in your defense, you’re pretty horny and Jisung is pretty hot. The fact that he’s bratty only makes him all the more fun to play with. Punishing him allows you to let off steam; It’s twistedly cathartic for you, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He takes everything you give him with a smile and asks for more. Granted, you haven’t been too harsh on him with your punishment—he’s laid off a bit ever since you’ve started regularly hooking up so there was no reason to get nasty—but you’re still worried you’d go too far one day. For the moment though, everything was under control. You were actually enjoying being around him for a change. It’s funny how being able to physically punish someone when they act out of line can calm both parties down. You even grew to like his little quirks that used to annoy the hell out of you like his loud laughter or the stupid voices he puts on or the way he gets excited over the smallest things, immediately running up to share whatever it is with you. In a way you found him, dare you say, endearing… You were loathe to admit, but being forced to spend time with him—for he always sticks around after sex even when you try to kick him out—wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You were becoming lenient with him, not punishing him for things that would’ve earned him a spanking if it had happened just a month ago. Like right now, he was inviting himself for a movie night at your place without so much as asking for your permission. “I haven’t watched Aladdin yet too. I’ll come over and we can watch it together!” He jumps into the conversation you were having with your friend, not embarrassed in the least that he was eavesdropping. “And why would I want that?” You regard him coldly, unfazed by the interruption. You’ve come to expect it from him.   “Because I’ll hold your hand and sing A Whole New World with you?” He doesn’t pause, starting to sing right away, “I can show you the world—”

“No, thanks.” You shut him up, and his whole face scrunches up into a pout. “C’mon! It will be fun!” Before you can reply and say that—no, it certainly wouldn’t be fun to have his loud and annoying ass talking through the whole movie and ruining it for you—Minho calls out for him, saying that they needed him. “I’m coming, hyung.” He yells then turn back to you, excitement dancing on his face. “I’ll come around at 9. This will be so fun!” “I didn’t say yes—” He grabs your face, smushing your cheeks together and giving you a quick kiss on your puckered lips before he runs off. “See ya, noona!” “Oh my god,” You wail, making a show of wiping your lips with the back of your hands as your friend laughs her ass off. “Why won’t he leave me the fuck alone? He’s so annoying.” “C’mon, he’s not that bad. I actually think he’s kinda cute.” “I actually think you’re kinda crazy. The boy is unbearable.” You retort, glancing back to where the boy in question was just seconds ago and jolting in surprise when you’re met with the dark gaze of one very angry Minho. Shit, did he hear that? Yup, he most definitely did for he narrows his eyes at you, lips curling into a snarl, before he turns around and walks the same way Jisung had gone. “Ohh, you just pissed off your boyfriend’s best friend. That’s not good, girl. Best friends got power.” Your friend looks at you with pity, like you were doomed now. She was enjoying this way too much. “He’s not my boyfriend!” Was a knee jerk response by now. Jisung’s constant attention and rather public, one sided, displays of affection have practically everyone in the company really believing that you two were dating. “And so what? He is annoying and I should say it. Just because he’s his best friend doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”   “Whatever you say, babe.” She says dismissively, clearly not believing it. “Oh, shut up.” Who cares about what she thinks. It’s totally ok. Things were fine. So what if his bestie didn’t like you, and never did, and that this only soured his opinion of you further. It’s cool. It’s not like you were actually dating him. •❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• Still that incidence sits uneasy with you, and when Jisung comes around like he said he would, you find yourself watching out for signs that Minho had told him something, but you find none. He’s a chipper as ever, and the amount of relief you feel at not having to see Jisung’s smile falter because of you is inexplicable. You shouldn’t care this much about a fuck buddy.  “So this is where the magic happens.” He remarks, his eyes scanning through your living room. “Uh, yeah, sorry it’s not fancy or anything.” You rub your arm awkwardly, feeling insecure in his presence for the first time ever. “In my defense, you’re the one who insisted on coming here.” Jisung makes way more money than you do. You’re just a backup dancer and your apartment shows it. It’s tiny and a little worse for wear. “Noona, I share a dorm with eight other guys. Compared to that, this is heaven.” He brushes off your concern but it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because it kinda just sounds like you think my apartment is crap except for the fact that it doesn’t have your members in it.” You accuse, your arms crossed over your chest. Right away, Jisung’s demeanor changes from bubbly to panicked confusion at your unexpected attack. Even you weren’t sure why you were being so sensitive about this? Are you actually worried about impressing Han Jisung? What the fuck is going on with you today? Are you dying?  “Nooo, I like it! It’s cozy.” He squeaks out, still trying to make it better, but somehow he only makes it worse. “Cozy? That’s just a nice way of saying cramped.” “No, this place is, like, huge.” He lies, very badly, which just annoys you even more as evident in your glare, and he buckles,“Ok, it’s tiny.” “What?!” “What are you gonna do with huge place anyway when you live alon—” He stops mid-sentence, realizing his mistake, “Oh shit, I didn’t mean it like that… I’ll buy you a new place!” “Are you insane?!” Your mouth was on the floor. What was he even saying? “What? I don’t know. I panicked” He cries, throwing his hand up in the air, “You’re being really scary right now, noona.” He does look very scared. His voice was getting dangerously high pitched and he was babbling whatever comes into his mind. It was actually really funny to see the mix between sulky and terrified on his face, and you have to turn your back to him in order to hide the smile on your face. “Whatever, I don’t care what you think anyway.” You head for the couch, and he follows behind, huffing cutely, “You’re so mean, noona.”  As you set up the movie, Jisung gets his back and upturns its content onto the coffee table. “I knew you wouldn’t get any snacks for me so I took it upon myself to be the better significant other and get you your favorite snacks even though you’re always so mean me. Except you never told me what your favorite snacks are so I got you everything.” He really did get everything. Splayed on the coffee table was a wide variety of candy, chocolate, and chips. Anything that could be sold in a convenience store was right there on your table. “See anything you like?” He asks hopefully, seeing the smile that you let slip. Quickly composing yourself, you prop your hand on your chin and scrutinize the pile of snacks like a professional chef would scrutinize a meal prepared by his mentee. Slowly, your hand reaches out to pluck something out of the pile. “Cheetos,” He observes, his tone a little underwhelmed. “Not even the spicy ones. Boring but a classic nonetheless.” You glare at his commentary, ripping the bag open and chucking a handful into your mouth, chomping on them angrily. “Spicy food makes me itchy.” “Aw, that’s cute.” He coos, swooping down to peck your cheek before you can stop him. “The fuck?” You smack his chest in retaliation. “This is the second time you do that today. I swear I will kick you out.” “But I like you so much, noona.” He holds your hand, looking at you earnestly. “You realize there is Cheeto dust all over my hand, right?” “I do now.” You roll your eyes and push him away, grabbing the remote to finally start the movie. •❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• It wasn’t even ten minutes into the movie but Jisung was already annoying the hell out of you, whining and clinging onto your arm. “Noona, I wanna cuddle.” “No.” You grimace, trying to shake him off but to no avail. “Please.” “No.” “Please with a cherry on top?” “Han…” “Noonaaaaa!” “Ugh, fine, you big baby!” You grab him and pull him onto your lap none-too-gently, squeezing your arms around him so tightly it’s practically a chokehold. But it doesn’t faze him at all. He just wiggles in your hold until he finds a position he’s comfortable in then settles down and hums contentedly as if this was his plan all along. Whatever. As long as he shuts up, right? You’ve never been the big spoon before, but it’s actually not so bad. Jisung had a somewhat small frame so he fit easily in your arms; he wasn’t too large for you to wrap your arms around nor too heavy for you to bear. He fit just right. It was… kinda nice. He smelled good too and he was so warm and pliable.  You could feel his heartbeat thrumming like a hummingbird through his thin body, and you get the overwhelming urge to smother him in kisses and keep him wrapped up and protected in your arms. “Ah, there is Jafar. I heard he’s sucks.” Jisung yells through a mouthful of chips, snapping you out of your daze. It takes you a second to compose yourself, flustered at your own embarrassing thoughts. “Gross! Close your mouth when you eat.” You complain, “And I don’t want to hear anything that would influence my opinion on the movie. Let the actor speak for himself and then I’ll decide—oh wow, he sucks bad.” Your rant is derailed as soon as the man opens his mouth and out comes a voice that is not at all like the one you imagined a villain as creepy and malicious as Jafar would have. “Told ya!” Jisung laughs with his mouth still open. “Shut up.” You groan, but on the inside you were thankful for the distraction. Your thoughts were getting far too ridiculous. As the movie keeps playing, you start unconsciously mouthing along to the songs, which then quickly turns to whisper-singing that Jisung— whose ear was pressed right against your mouth—picks up on. Turning his head around puts his face way too close to yours, so close you could kiss him if you just leaned forward an inch… 

“Wow, noona, I didn’t realize you like Disney this much.”

“Everyone likes Disney.” You mumble defensively, grabbing his jaw and turning his head back around, thinking he’s making fun of you. “Well, I for one, do.” He declares and starts singing along—perfectly, you might add, and not missing a word. “Aren’t you gonna join, noona?” “I didn’t know that tough, hep-hap rappers can like Disney too.” “Hey! I’m real hip-hop. Swag.” He wiggles in your lap, turning his upper body to face you so he could throw double peace signs at you. “And real hip-hop can like Disney, ok?” Fuck he was so cute you wanted to kiss his face off, but instead you just roll your eyes and say, “Ok, real hip-hop, the floor is yours.”  “Only if you join me, princess.” Seeing the disgusted look on your face, he backtracks, “Too much?” “Way too much.” “Noted.” He accepts your constructive criticism and turns back around, resuming his singing. You join him soon and after that, you barely notice the time passing. You were right; he did talk all throughout the movie, but instead of being annoyed at the interruptions, you found yourself anticipating what he would say next. He was just so naturally funny and his comments made the movie ten times more enjoyable. You were having too much fun belting out songs, awing at the cute scenes, clinging to each other at the emotional ones, and laughing at the jabs Jisung takes at Jafar. You don’t even realize that you were holding his hand all through the movie until he takes it away so he could clap as the credits start to roll.    “Bravo!” He shoots out of his seat, “Truly a masterpiece.” 

So what if you were sitting there staring at him with blatant heart-eyes as he fake cries and gives the movie a standing ovation? He just sang the whole soundtrack to Aladdin word for word, and as anyone who knew you would say, the fastest way to your heart is a solid knowledge of Disney, and he just demonstrated that perfectly.

Despite you being the one staring, he’s the one who blushes when he catches you. He really was the best boy when he wasn’t the worst. Grabbing his hand, you pull him back down on your lap, this time facing you, and kiss him passionately, pouring out all the confusing emotions you were feeling for him into the kiss. “Wow, noona, do you have an Aladdin kink I should know about? Because I will put on harem pants if you want to.” He giggles as he pulls away from the kiss. “Don’t ruin it.” You warn, but there was no bite to it, and pull him back into another kiss. It quickly got heated. You were already so worked up that it only takes one little moan from him for you to push your tongue into his mouth and your hands to start groping him. But then, inexplicably, he pulls away. “Uh-uh, no sex today, noona. I’m more than just a hot piece of ass, you know?” You roll your eyes. What was he up to now? “It is one hot ass.” You tease, your hand going out to squeeze it, and smirk when he jolts in your lap. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fuck you, baby?” “Uh..yeah.” His breathing stutters as you start kissing along the side of his neck, the hands on his ass continuing to knead the flesh gently. “Hmm, then why are you squirming so much?” You whisper in his ear then nip at the sensitive spot right below it. Fighting back his moans, he tries to come up with an excuse,“It’s just… my legs are cramping up.” “Oh poor Hannie.” You coo, and move your hands to his thighs. “Want me to help you, baby?” “You don’t have to—” He tries to get up but you pull him back down right away. “I want to. Noona wants to take care of her handsome baby.” He completely stops resisting after that, turning into a gooey mess. When you order him to take off his pants, he does it faster than he could blush. “Going commando, I see.  And you say you don’t want sex. You’re such a bad liar, baby.” He pouts, tugging on the long white shirt he still has on to cover up his cock. “What a tease.” You chastise, slapping his ass and making him jump and whimper. Yet he’s remains as shameless as ever. “Noona, my thighs.” He reminds you. “Spoiled brat.” You give his ass another slap before your hands go to his thighs to massage them.  You start from barely above his knees, something that the ever impatient Jisung doesn’t appreciate. But if he thought he could tease you without suffering any consequences, he was sadly mistaken. You take your sweet time rubbing and kneading along the expanse of his thighs, all while he squirms and tries to subtly shift under you so your hands will slide higher, but every time he does that, you just start over. “Noona…” He whines when your hands go back down for the fourth time.  His cock was now hard and straining against the thin material of his shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. “What is, Hannie?” You coo, loving how needy he can get with just a little bit of teasing. “It hurts.” “Are you saying that the massage is not helping?” You raise your eyebrow at him, but he just fusses harder. “No, you’re not doing the part where it hurts.” “Then where does it hurt, baby? Show me.” You lean back to watch as he slowly pulls his shirt over his stomach, acting like he’s embarrassed when in reality his cock was hard and twitching already. “Hmm, cute.” You coo, reaching out to stroke it. “And all mine. Right, Hannie?” He doesn’t reply, too focused on the pleasure you’re giving him so you stop. “I wanna hear you say it, pretty.” He moans at the praise, his hips thrusting up to fuck your still hand. “It’s yours, noona. All of it. I’m all yours.” “Then why did you think you can stop me from taking what’s mine, huh?” “I’m sorry, noona.” “You should be. Dumb baby thinks this is his.” You hiss, pushing him down on the couch and straddling him. “You need to be reminded that I own you.” You barely hear his submissive ‘yes, noona’ as you chuck your pants off and sink down on his cock. You go hard right away, riding him fast. He tries to take your shirt off but you stop him, “What did I say, Han?” “I just wanna see your tits.” “Oh?” You grin, slipping your hands behind you and unhooking your bra. You take it off without removing your shirt, teasing him. Then slowly, very slowly, you pull the shirt up until your breasts are exposed to his hungry eyes. “These tits?” “Yes, wanna see ‘em bounce as you ride my cock, noona.” He drawls, leering as pushes his hips up into you, making you jostle and your breasts bounce up and down. Brat. He knows he’s not allowed to do that. Helping him out, you start riding him again, making your breasts bounce even more. “This what you want, baby?” You’re being nice and that’s always suspicious, but Jisung always falls for it somehow. “Yeah, just like that. I love it.” You smile, bending down so his face is inches from yours, before you say in a sickly sweet voice, “I don’t care what you want, little slut.” Fear stains his face as your smile is replaced by a severe look. “I was so nice to you today. I let you into my home. I gave you a massage. Now I’m even fucking you, yet you still want more. Let me make one thing clear, Han.” You grab his face roughly, sneering at him, “You’re nothing but a dumb little fucktoy for me. All you’re allowed to do is to lie there and look pretty for me as I fuck your brains out. Understood?” He nods, his cock twitching inside you. “Use your big boy words, Han.” “Yes, noona. Whatever you want, noona.” “Pitiful.” You spit, not giving him the satisfaction of calling him a good boy. But it’s ok, you know he loves it when you’re rough with him. You start riding him again, going even faster than before. Jisung stares at your chest, but you can’t imagine he’s seeing much through your now lowered shirt. But maybe that excites him even more, the allure of having what he wants be so close yet he’s unable to get it. It doesn’t take long for him to get close at this pace. “You gonna cum for me, pretty?” “Yeah, please let me do it inside. Wanna fill noona up.” You scoff at his pleas, “You think you deserve it after all you’ve done. All you do is bother me.” “I’m sorry, I just wanted your attention.” “Of course, you do. You’re an attention whore. You’d let anybody do anything to you if they just paid you the slightest bit of attention, wouldn’t you?” You stop jumping up and down on his cock in favor of grinding in his lap, his cock that is still deep inside you rubbing deliciously against your walls. Shaking his head, he vehemently denies, “No! It’s only because it’s noona.” “I don’t believe that. I bet if I let you cum inside me and told you to eat it up, you would. You’d lap up your own cum right out of my pussy if it meant just to hear me call you a good boy.” “Yes! Please let me do it! I’m so close, so close—ah, ah, please!” He begs, his hips stuttering under you as he tries to stop himself from pushing up into you. He was shivering, so close to orgasm you could feel it. “Then cum, little slut.” You’d never get tired of watching Jisung orgasm. He always looks like his body can’t handle the pleasure it was feeling and would give out. He throws his head back and moans loudly as his body jerks with the shocks of pleasure. You take it all in as his dick twitches inside you and you feel his warm seed fill you up. It’s almost enough to make you cum too, especially when he looks down at you  through half-lidded eyes to see if you were watching him. You always were. Holding his cum inside as much as you can, you climb over his body and hover just inches from his face. “Tongue out.” When he obeys,, you relax your muscles to let the cum drip out of you and onto his open and willing mouth. “Wow, there is so much. Someone was excited to be fed his own dirty cum.” His eyes flutter at your words, but he doesn’t move, his tongue still out like a good boy. You push it back into his mouth your fingers after you’ve swiped up some of the cum that’s leaked onto his chin. “Swallow.” You feel the suction around your fingers as he does what you say. “Show.” When he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out again to show you, there is no semen left. “Did I do good, noona?” He asks hopefully, wanting his praise now, but you don’t give it to him yet.  “What, just because you swallowed? Any two-dollar whore could do that.” That doesn’t make him happy. He glares at you, and mutter under his breath. “Bitch.”  But you know he intended for you to hear it. If he wasn’t getting attention from you as praise then he would get it as punishment. For Jisung, there was no such thing as bad attention. So you give it to him, striking him across the face hard.  “You little brat.” Grabbing him by the hair, you sit down on his face, putting all your weight on him and smothering him. “Here is what’s gonna happen, you don’t get to breathe until you  make me cum. After all, you’re no use to me if you can’t even do that.” Whatever he says is muffled by your pussy, but it doesn’t matter because he does what he’s told anyway and eats you out. He hardly seems bothered that he can’t breathe, his eyes silently glaring at you as he rubs his face against your pussy, his tongue licking in and around your opening as his nose grinds against your clit.  “Don’t look at me like that or the next time I feed you cum, it won’t be yours.. but you’d like that, wouldn’t you.” You smirk as you feeling more than hearing him moan at your threat. You see, Jisung has divulged to you a saucy little secret; he’d always fantasized about having his girl get fucked, or in your case, fuck, other men and making him watch. He’d never tried it before because he was too nervous to tell anyone about his fantasy for fear that people would judge him. After all, what kind of man would let others touch his woman? Being with you, however, has made him face many sides of him that he was ashamed of acknowledging before, and you were more than happy to help him. “I wonder who I should fuck.” You continue teasing him, loving how he only gets more enthusiastic as you go. “Your Pili-hyung?”  Oops, wrong name.  Jisung gets angry again at hearing the older man’s voice. He grabs your hips and pulls you up a bit so he can move his head to bite the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you jump.  “Ok, ok, not him. Calm down little squirrel.” You laugh at his glare, sitting down on his face again. “But if you do that again, I’ll put your pretty cock in a cage for a month.”   Now that scares him, and he goes back to eating you out.    “How about Minho, then? God knows he could use being brought down a peg. I’d kill to be able to get my hands on him and fuck that attitude out of him.” You moan as you feel Jisung’s tongue push into your hole at the mention of his hyung’s name.  “Yeah, you like that, baby? Wanna watch me make Minho cry?”  He groans and fucks you fast with his tongue. Glancing over your shoulder confirms that he was indeed hard again, and that knowledge--the fact that he’s getting so worked up over--combined with the enthusiastic way he was eating you out pushes you over the edge.   You can’t hold yourself steady as you cum so Jisung holds you up as you wobble and shake. You feel like you’ve been waiting for this a long time and it feels damn good. 

You’re pliant in his hands as he lays you down next to him and props himself up to ask meekly, “What about now, noona? Was I a good boy?”  “Yes, baby. The best boy.” Your heart flutter as he grins brightly and lays back down, wrapping his arms around your midsection and squeezing tightly.  It’s quiet for some time, and you almost drift into sleep, lulled by the sound of Jisung humming contentedly to himself. But just as you’re almost asleep, he speaks up.  “Noona.” “Yes, pretty?” You reply groggily. “Let’s go on a real date.” You jolt awake. A real date? What does that mean? Or you do know what it means but do you want it? Do you want to date Jisung? Your answer should be no but if so then why did your heart skip a beat when he said that? You’ll just have to deflect until you figure it out. “Doesn’t JYP have a dating ban?” “Yeah but it’s not in the contract or anything. It’s more of a...suggestion.” He’s fumbling and you both know it. “Yeah and fired is just a word.” You retort snarkily.  “I’m not gonna get fired.” “You’re an idol, Han. If you go on a date, the fans or dispatch will be on your ass before you even take a step out of your door.” “There are secret places where idols go for dates, you know?” “Yes, but it’s risky and you’re a rookie from a rising group. If you get caught, it won’t only compromise your career but it could hurt the entire group. You can’t be selfish about this.”  “Forget it. I know you would never date me anyway even if I was the last man on earth.” He mumbles glumly, and so your worst fear comes true; making Jisung lose his smile. “Who said so?” You splutter out, not knowing how to make this better.  “You did. Word for word.”  “Oh... right.”  It’s silent again, but not like it was. Not the good kind.  “Where are you going?” You feel your heart picking up in anxiousness as Jisung gets up.  “I’ve annoyed you enough today. I’ll leave you alone. Thank you for letting me come over.” He says guiltily, hastily putting on his clothes.  “You didn’t annoy me.” “I always annoy you. You just said that. You always say that...” He drifts, a hidden meaning in his eyes that you understand perfectly. Minho had told him.  “I-I lied.” You confess, wincing as you see the shock on his face.�� Now, look what you’ve done; you’ve made such an adorable, happy boy doubt himself so much that he’s genuinely surprised that you don’t dislike him.  He looks at you with hope, his eyes silently willing you to say anything that will make him stay, to give him hope that his feelings aren’t completely unrequited.  You know that your feelings for Jisung have changed ever since you started sleeping together but what is the exact nature of those new feeling, you don’t know. Do you like him? As a friend? As a lover? Or is what you’re feeling merely lust that you’re confusing with infatuation?  It hurt you to see him hurt like this. You could just tell him that you like him and make the both of you feel better, but if it didn’t turn out to be true, it would only hurt him more in the long run. He likes you a whole lot, that much is clear, and now, whatever those feelings mean, you like him enough to want to protect him from that pain.   “I don’t think you’re annoying, Han. And for whatever it’s worth, I really enjoyed spending time with you today. But if you don’t feel comfortable staying then you can go... and I’m sorry.”   You are sorry--for making him doubt himself, and for not being able to stop the sadness and disappointment that your words have brought him. 

“There is nothing to be sorry for, noona. ” His voice cracks despite the brave smile he has on, and the wet glint in his eyes making your heart squeeze painfully.  “I should go now.”   •❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• A/N: Feedback is greatly appreciated. The Minho/Chan appearance will be pushed back to chapter 4 since I divided chapter 3 into two parts.