#I promise I am reading all of y’all’s asks but work has been kicking my ass lately.

[j-liz]

the way spyfam chap 78.1 makes me think of your fanarts….. i want this group of friends to be silly together forever

One can say I got a little inspired after reading it lol🙊

It’s okay sweetie go at whatever pace you need to.

[starsofmilos]

Two of Hearts (Adrian Chase x reader)

Y’all he has my heart right now!!

Synopsis: You find out Adrian is Vigilante in the worse way possible

TW: Mentions of kidnapping and harassment, cursing and of course violence. Reader almost gets assaulted. SO read with caution. 18+ minors DNI

Angst/Fluff, comfort, hurt

“Hey dude just a small heads up I’m probably gonna be late tonight. They have me working a double shift!” Adrian spoke to you while getting dressed in his armor.

“Aww really? It’s alright I’m probably not gonna be home till a later anyways.” 

“Wait why?” Adrian asked concerned.

There has been a group of men harassing women. He had yet to find them. 

“Oh I need to file some more reports. You know just the average secretary stuff.” You yawned out. 

“Man am I tired though.” 

“Do you need me to pick you up?” He grabbed his helmet putting it on his head.

“No I think I’ll be okay hun. My coworker planned on taking me home.” 

“Which coworker? It isn’t Adam is it? I swear he looks at you with fuck you eyes.” 

“What are fuck you eyes?” 

“You know eyes that scream I wanna fuck you. That’s how Adam looks at you.” 

“I don’t think he does, but no he’s not taking me Sarah is. I will have my car back tomorrow so you don’t worry. Good luck I know how much work drains you.”

He hated Fennel Fields, but you didn’t know he had actually planned on doing his nightly work as Vigilante. 

“I can try to pick you up-” “No I promise I’ll be okay. I gotta go now. Love you!” 

“Love you too.” He mumbled out as you took your papers to your office. 

After a while, a knock on your door interrupted your work. It was Sarah. “Hey Sarah what’s up?” 

“It’s past eight I’m gonna clock out for the night did you still want a ride home?”

You looked at the clock on the wall confirming her words. “Ugh I still have so much to do for tomorrow!!”

Sarah gave you a sad smile. “I can wait if you want-” 

“No no that’s not fair to you. You go on ahead. I’ll see if my boyfriend can pick me up after his shift.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah go. It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to stay.” She sighed. 

“Let me know you got home safe?” 

“I will you have a nice night.” After she left you continued your work for a bit longer and longer, soon it went from eight to eleven o’clock at night. 

“Shit I didn’t even notice.”

You had finally finished grabbing your jacket from your chair. Trying to call Adrian, you groaned seeing your phone had died. 

“The day I forget my portable charger...” It wasn’t a long walk home. Your office had only been about four blocks away from your apartment.

Adrian didn’t like you walking alone though. He always told you no matter where you were and if your phone died just go to a local place and call him. 

You chose not to bother him though and besides the closest place was a bar about two blocks away.

You didn’t see a point of you walking to the bar when you could just finish the walk. Sighing in annoyance, you began to trek home. 

Adrian sighed worried he hadn’t received anything from you since your call at six. You usually sent him an update when you got home, so he wouldn’t worry.

He groaned frustrated after you didn’t pick up your phone for the seventh time. 

“I knew I should’ve just picked her up!!!” Adrian stalked his way to your office angrily.

You had continued your walk home hoping Adrian would be there. It had been quite a long day and all you wanted by this point was a hug from your boyfriend.

Your feet were killing you after only walking a block and a half. You were exhausted from all the reports you had filed that, you didn’t notice the group of men stalking you.

It had became apparent to you after hearing gravel being kicked. Taking a small glance, you gasped softly seeing about four men twice your size strolling behind you. 

“Shit.” Cursing quietly, you began to speed up. The bar should be close by. 

“Hey!” One of them called out seeing you begin to shake. 

“Hey! My buddy is talking to you!!” 

Your breath quickened hearing the two out of the four grow angry. The other two began to laugh as you continued speeding up.

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes from fear. What was it Adrian said to do in a situation like this?

Your boyfriend was always giving you advice and telling you what to do. As weird as he was, he did know what he was talking about. His voice began to play out in your head.

Step One: Don’t engage. It will probably piss them off more, but if you give them a reaction then they’ll continue going after you

You kept your head up trying to keep yourself from crying or whimpering from fear. 

Step two; Try to find anyone nearby. Most of the time I’ll be with you, but if there is ever a case I’m not and your alone with these people or person try to find someone who looks safe enough to approach.

Your eyes began to frantically scour the street you were on. No one had been walking nearby enough.

You thought about approaching one the buildings here, but knew that’d be stupid you could be potentially endangering the lives of other people.

Step Three: I know you wanna change the subject, but this is really important for me that you know. Avoid dark areas. Alleyways especially. People are less likely to hear you or find you in an alleyway so stay in the light 

There had been an alleyway up ahead, so you began crossing the street wanting to stay in the light. Your heart rate picked up hearing them quicken. 

“Little lady where the hell do you think your going?” You panicked. What was step four? You racked your brain trying to remember. What the hell was step four? 

“AHH!” You screamed out feeling one of them grab you. The other three laughed as you thrashed in his hold.

The streetlight seemed so faraway now. You cried out as one of them grabbed your legs so you couldn’t kick. 

If there is ever a day someone actually catches you and I’m not there, you fight for your life. You scratch, kick, scream. Do whatever you can so someone can hear you. Don’t yell for help most people will ignore it yell something that’s likely to get attention like-

“FIRE!! FIRE!! THERE’S A FIRE!! CALL 911 THERE’S A FUCKING FIRE!!!” The men loosened their grip from shock. You used the opportunity to raise your leg kicking one of them in the crotch.

Throwing your head back, you hit the one holding your arms in the face.

Hearing a satisfying crunch, he yelled out letting you go dropping you to the ground.

Heaving yourself up, you began to sprint trying to get away. The other men you hadn’t hurt began to chase you. 

“FIRE!! THERE’S A FIRE!!” You cried out as one of them grabbed your arm hauling you back into his chest. 

“FUCK OFF!!” Using your hand, you clawed at his arm that had wrapped around your waist. He used his other hand covering your mouth. 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

Adrian had been close by wondering if you went to the bar two blocks away. He sighed agitated. It wasn’t like you to not tell him anything.

It was already nearing twelve thirty. He groaned out speeding up. He didn’t care if you saw him as Vigilante by this point.

He just needed to know you were safe. Adrian stopped hearing a loud yell not too far from him. “FIRE!! FIRE!! CALL 911!! THERE’S A FUCKING FIRE!!”

He knew your voice from anywhere. His speed-walking turned into running.

You cried out as they dragged you to the alleyway. The men you had hit threw you to the ground angrily. 

“You little bitch you broke my nose.” You whimpered trying to crawl away before yelling as they grabbed your ankles pulling you towards them. 

“Fire...” You weakly called out as one of them lifted you up pushing you against the wall.

Sobbing as he grabbed your shirt to take it off of you, you heard another set footsteps nearby. 

“Hel-” They covered your mouth as you began to struggle once more. You weren’t going down without a fight.

Suddenly right as one of them laughed in your face, you heard something whizz by. It was knife and it had landed right into the man who was laughing in your face head.

Adrian heaved angrily. He growled pulling his gun out. Quickly shooting the other man who had managed to sneak his hand under your shirt.

You grabbed the knife out of the man who had gotten stabbed in the head. Yelling out as you stabbed the man who had been holding one of your legs in the shoulder.

He moved off of you quickly grabbing his other friend to runaway. Sliding down the wall, you cried in relief as Adrian chased after the other two men.

He shot another straight in the head. Laughing manically seeing the one you had stabbed in the shoulder trying to crawl away. He stalked hovering over him stomping on his leg hearing a loud crack.

Adrian yelled out angrily, “HOW THE FUCK DARE YOU EVEN FUCKING LOOK AT THEM?! MOTHER FUCKER!”

Adrian heaved as he stomped on his face. 

“Please I’m sorry ma-” 

“You will be sorry! They begged too all of the women you harassed!! NOW YOU DECIDE TO TOUCH THE THING THAT IS MINE!! SHE IS MINE!!”

Adrian continued stomping his foot into his face. You grimaced feeling blood spray on your shirt.

He continued on even after the man had stopped making noise. “Dude. I think he’s down.” You sniffled.

Adrian stopped turning over to look at you. He sighed in relief running to you. 

“Are you okay? Wait that was stupid, it’s so obvious your not.” You chuckled a bit as he helped you up. 

“You heard me..Oh thank fuck you heard me...” You fell into his chest crying. 

“You’re okay you did a really good job.” 

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” Adrian nodded holding you up. 

“Yeah it comes with the job you know besides I’ve been looking for these fuckers for a while.”

The adrenaline that had been running through your body gave out as you slumped forward. 

“Hey! Hey stay up!” You began to mumble sleepily. 

“Sorry...call my boyfriend for me his number is-” It all faded to black. Adrian glared at the dead men one more time, before throwing you over his shoulder. 

When you woke up later, you looked around confused seeing your bedroom. 

“Hey.” You gasped before relaxing seeing Adrian sitting next to you.

Without another word, you threw yourself into his chest. “I got you. You’re okay I got you.” 

“Adrian..I was so scared.” 

“I know, but you’re safe now. Why didn’t you call me? You know not to walk alone at night.” 

“I know I’m so sorry-” 

“it’s not your fault, but you scared the crap outta me. I went ballistic when I saw those guys on you.” 

“Wait you saw them on me..” Suddenly something from last night came to you. 

‘NOW YOU DECIDE TO TOUCH THE THING THAT IS MINE! SHE IS MINE!’

Adrian was vigilante. Your sweet, weird, caring boyfriend was Vigilante. It all made so much sense now.

The late nights and mysterious bruises.“You’re Vigilante-” 

“What no?!” 

“Adrian don’t fuck with me! I know it’s you! You said it last night that I was yours!! Why the fuck would Vigilante say that about me!?!” 

“Maybe it’s cause he cares for you. Oh my god Y/N what if he’s stalking you-” 

“Adrian that makes no sense! How’d I get home then?!” 

“He called me you gave him my number-” 

“YOU JUST SAID EARLIER HOW YOU SAW THE MEN ON TOP OF ME!! HOW DID YOU SEE THAT IF YOUR NOT VIGILANTE!!” 

“I DON’T KNOW!” You both panted after yelling at each other. 

“Y/N..why didn’t you call me?” He held your hand tightly. 

“My phone died and the nearest place I could walk too was two blocks away.” Adrian sighed before going quiet.

He could usually talk nonstop, but for once he was speechless. “You’re not scared of me now are you?” 

“No why would I be?” 

“Because you know now. I don’t want you to leave me or be scared of me. I am Vigilante.” 

“No shit. Adrian I could never be scared of you. I know you could never hurt me. You saved me last night and those guys got what was coming to them. I don’t care that your Vigilante so long as you come back to me safe.”

Adrian smiled leaning to give you a small kiss. “I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“I followed the directions you had given me. I lasted long enough for you to find me.” You massaged his scalp with your hand as he sighed. 

“So you really don’t care that I’m Vigilante?” 

“No I don’t plus to be honest the suit is kinda hot.” His eyes widened at your confession. 

“Wait really?” 

“Yeah. You know I have a thing for sweet guys and Vigilante might be the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.” Adrian groaned nuzzling his head into you neck. 

“Maybe sometime you could model it?” 

“Oh for sure now that I know that Vigilante makes you horny,” You grinned up at him. 

“Thank you for saving me...” 

“I will always save you and protect you.” 

[bastillia]

Loyalties Lie

AO3 Mirror

Summary: You're a bartender in a Lothal cantina, living a quiet life in the Outer Rim after the fall of the Empire. You can't help but wonder what more might be out there for you. One dangerous guest in particular keeps catching your eye. Unfortunately, you've also caught his.

Rating: E

Words: 6.1k

Warnings: possibly mild dubcon, threats with a weapon, rough sex, verbal degradation, mentions of alcohol, cumplay, Boba Fett has a 24oz monster can dick and he knows how to use it.

A/N: Remember when I said I had a Boba Fett WIP laying around like, months ago? Well guess who showed up in Mando S2 with a sexy dad bod and the fattest dick in the galaxy to overhaul my dreams and make them a reality. Fuck me. Yes this is the first thing I’ve written in months hi I’m still here. No I don’t know how many chapters this will be. I live in hell. Welcome. Thank you to @kylorengarbagedump​ for graciously beta reading and listening to me literally scream about this man all the time. Love y’all so much PLEASE ENJOY.

**

It’s the kind of night that hums. 

Like a moonlit Lothal prairie, quiet and alive somewhere beyond the outskirts of town. Except that in here, the crickets swoop past your bar to buy shots, and the stars fall steadily to become the lovely tink of credits in your tip jar. The twin moons are shifting hues of neon light, and time seems to stroll by, like it has nowhere better to be.

Tonight has been steady. 

It’s not busy enough tonight to challenge you, but not slow enough to let you rest. Your guard is up, as it always is when you’re behind the bar. But your hold on it can afford to be loose. 

Tonight has been…

Boring. 

No brawls, no assassinations, not even a drunken paw fumbling across the bar towards your tits, attached to some overly rowdy patron who you then get to watch with quiet glee as they’re dragged out by the ears. No, in fact, it’s hard to remember the last time something remotely interesting happened around here. So much for the Outer Rim’s rugged reputation. You hate to say you miss the Empire’s occupation from time to time. But at least it brought nightly intrigue.

Tonight, your guests are especially calm and happy, lulled by liquor and the easy flow of conversation, murmurs blending like a stream through the grassland. And you suppose you shouldn’t complain. You’ve more than earned your keep for the night, and then some. Best of all, your boss has no reason to be breathing down your neck. 

In fact, he’s happy, too, you note when the Lasat’s bellowing business-laugh resounds overtop a few flutes of spotchka, glowing inside a booth across the room. You pass a cloth around the rim of a clean glass, feeling a tickle of interest as to who he might be schmoozing this time. When you glance up, you can just make out a pair of well-dressed Rodians seated across from him through the leisure-thick air of the cantina, nudging each other and laughing at whatever witty, schmoozy thing he just said. 

A soft snort puffs through your nose. At least Dakk is a predictable man, if nothing else. Must be rich folk, probably well connected. Good. You’ll get no help tonight, but at least he will be occupied for a while.

In fact...

Flicking a quick glance around the room, you take your chance and shrug your outer tunic off your shoulders, quickly smoothing down your much more revealing undershirt until it clings to the shape of you. You know Dakk hates when you do this, always goes on about keeping the place “classy.” But he’s not looking, and if it puts a few extra credits in your jar by the end of the night, it’s worth it. Anyway, you’re in a good mood tonight. Bored nonetheless, and the combination always forges a mischievous kind of boldness in you; a tiny spark that glows just bright enough to cast the idea of consequence in shadow.

You scan the bar for an empty drink, a flirtatious urge rolling off of your freshly bared skin and filling your ribs with air. It’s not long before you hone on your target-- an unsuspecting guest sitting alone, head turned away. Probably eavesdropping. A smirk curves your lips and you sidle over, plink a glass down between you, leaning your elbows on the bartop. 

“Something else for you, sugar?”

His head whips around with a guilty swiftness, but you just offer an easy smile, shifting your weight through your hips to coax his eyes down your body. It works like a charm.

“I, uh...“ The young Mirialan stammers directly at your tits. “Yeah, c-can I, ah…” 

As you wait out his struggle, an idea sparks in your freshly emboldened mind. Maker’s sake, might as well help the poor thing out. 

“Got a ruge liqueur in stock, last shipment off Alderaan. Rare these days.” Your lashes flutter, tongue just barely playing your along your lower lip as if teasing some unspoken promise. “I just couldn’t help but notice, you seem like a person of exceptional taste.”

The words are warm summer air on your tongue, practiced and enticing. You can see them go to the kid’s head like spice smoke, his cheeks immediately flushing deep emerald beneath diamond-shaped tattoos. 

“Y-yeah?” He straightens, runs a hand through his hair, grinning sheepishly. “I mean...yeah! I, uh, I am. That s-sounds great, yeah. Um. Please.”

You smile. Too easy. 

Now, it’s not technically a lie. You do have the ruge in stock, it’s just that--well, it’s definitely nothing this kid can afford. But you’d bet a week’s worth of tips that you can slip him a cheap offworld varietal instead. Charge him triple its price, pocket the excess. Poor thing wouldn’t know the real stuff if it bit him.

You swell with the thought. That amount might even let you buy something nice for yourself for once. It might be a little slimy, but... fuck it. Kid seems well off enough. Decently nice clothes, cologne, that misplaced air of belonging that comes with sheltered entitlement. Surely he won’t miss a few extra credits. Anyway, you deserve this, right?

Moving to speak again, you prepare to lay the flirting on thick, really sell the gambit. But before you get the chance, a loud bang snaps your attention upward just in time to see the cantina door slam open. 

You straighten where you stand, irritation and curiosity pricking your ears in equal measure. But then a slight hush cuts the ease of your buzzing meadow, and your chest squeezes with it.

Boba Fett.

The hunter takes up almost the whole doorway, a broad tower of matte green beskar catching the soft neons of the cantina. The distinctly cold gaze of the Mandalorian helmet scans the room, stirring murmurs and averting eyes until it comes to rest, finally, upon you.

It feels like two cold weights set down on your shoulders, being the focus of that stare. 

Even as the energy picks back up around you, as conversations cautiously resume, it’s like you’re trapped in it, breathless under its weight and unable to look away. You vaguely register the Mirialan turn back to your tits and ask them something about when your shift ends. But you’re still transfixed, watching the armored man take a few deliberate steps towards the bar and straddle a stool, the visor trained like a crosshair upon you as his forearms settle on the bartop.

You’ve seen him here before. Heard his name whispered in weighted ripples ever since news spread through the Outer Rim that Bib Fortuna was dead. Since then, he’s come through maybe once every few dozen cycles, each time with a couple new chips in the paint of his armor. He comes here on business--or at least you assume that’s what it must be, since he always meets someone, speaks in hushed tones enshrouded by the dim corner booth in the back. He’ll toss a few credits on the bar when he leaves, but has never uttered a word to you, never ordered a drink.

Never even glanced your way, for all you know. Until right now. 

You swallow. Fucking hell, if there’s anything you’re used to, it’s being looked at. So why is this gaze kicking your pulse up into the base of your throat, making you feel exposed? A prickle of heat is already settling in your cheeks.

And then the visor cocks, and just barely tilts down the length of your figure. 

A tight breath snaps into your lungs, and your eyes dart to the bartop, across the room, back to the Mirialan still babbling dumbly at you, your face now hot. Kriff, what is wrong with you? Since when are you outright flustered by some stranger copping an eyeful? You try to breathe, ignoring how the hairs stand on your neck.

But you can still feel his attention like the heat of a sun warming your bare shoulder, and it makes something start to coil in your belly and glow there.

“I’ll have that ruge right up, sweetheart.” 

You’re pretty sure you interrupt the kid, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just calls out a stammered thank-you as you pivot away towards your new guest, your heart kicking against your sternum. Your feet almost feel weighted to the floor, and by the time you reach him, your pulse has an edge like a blade. 

“Something I can interest you in?” 

There’s a breathlessness to the warm air of your voice now, and you pray to the Maker that it doesn’t betray you. You lean against the bar, hoping that the solidity of the wood will somehow teach your nerves to follow its example. It doesn’t. 

He seems to study you for a moment, motionless. And then his shoulders shift, his elbows widen, and he leans in towards you.

“Information.” His voice is low and direct, barely above a graveled whisper, the single accent-laden word dragging through your belly and sparking like metal on stone.

Fuck.

Of course he’s after the one thing you’re not willing to sell.

Your heart stalls while your mind starts to race, eyes searching the dark visor. Of course you’d be a fool to deny him, and he knows it. That’s why he’s asking you. Why would you risk rousing a scene in your own bar, especially when the night is so mercifully calm? Easier to give him what he wants. Tap into your collection of liquor-loosened secrets, and knowledge of the local crowd.

The thing is, you’ve built a good rapport for your discretion. You think. Not to mention the number of cutting warnings Dakk has laid on you about the consequences for selling secrets in his bar. Is it really worth risking? Fett intimidates you, no doubt. But he’s also banking on the assumption that you won’t make this difficult for him. He has to be. And now unease and excitement are starting to play a game of catch between your ribs with that tiny, dangerous spark of boldness.

“Fresh out.” Your fingers drum the wood beneath them, trying to ground your reflexes through the rush of adrenaline that accompanies your words. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you stare into the blackness of the visor as you let the tiniest, playful smirk flit over your face.  “Perhaps something to drink?”

Slowly, achingly slowly, Boba Fett settles back on the bar stool. Unease lances you, splintering with the immediate question of whether you just made the right choice. You don’t want to think about how many he’d manage to kill before you could even blink, if he decided to do something extreme. His hand starts to shift back along his thigh, drawing a path towards the blaster at his hip. You swallow, panic pricking your neck.

Just as your muscles are primed to dive behind the bar, convinced you’re going to have to evade his quickdraw, his palm just takes a lazy rest on the hilt. The helmet levels, and then leans slowly to the side. 

“No.” 

Dizzied, you blink. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking through that helmet, and he’s offered you all of two words. But was that… amusement, you heard? No. Anger? Fuck, now you’re really imagining things.

Still a little breathless, you straighten, sensing that you’re dismissed. The thought of flirting with a killer was a much-needed rush, but you need to take his indifference as a mercy after that little stunt and get on with your job while he’s giving you the chance. What little you apparently have left of a survival instinct is at least telling you that much.

You shrug. 

“Suit yourself.”

It feels dangerous to take your eyes off of him. But you force yourself to do so anyways, turning your back on the hunter and making your way to the dim doorway at the end of the bar, his attention still heating your spine. 

It’s a fucking relief to slip through the door to the storage room, ease the door shut behind you, and for the first time in what feels like moons, you let a long breath fill your lungs. The familiar scent of dust and wine-aged wood floods you, and something like disappointment tugs at your heart.

Maybe that stupid, adventure-craving side of your imagination took things too far, fueled by your boredom and the prospect of something exciting finally happening. You suppose you projected that naive hope onto Boba Fett, if nothing else just because he’s the first person to come through here in a long time that actually intrigues you. That confounds your prized, finely-calibrated radar for reading people without having to speak a word to them.

Fuck, he really wouldn’t give you much more than a word, would he? Guess he’s determined to keep scrambling your sensors. It shouldn’t deject you as much as it does. But...  come on, the least the son of a mudscuffer could do is flirt back if he was gonna fucking undress you with his eyes like that. 

Or maybe that was just your imagination, too. 

You sigh, scanning a shelf on the back wall for a ruge that will make a convincing enough dupe. A synthetic varietal, perhaps. No--too cheap. You’ve got something from a Naboo vineyard in here somewhere. Anyways, whatever, since when are you desperate for any man’s attention?

No, okay, it’s... you know that isn’t what this is really about. 

It would just be nice to feel important, is all. Like the secrets you’ve gathered might be worth something. Could someday give you a place in something bigger. Or at least like anything about you might be worth more than equivalent to a shot of shitty spotchka. 

Forget it. As if that will ever happen.

Your finger absently traces the dusty label of a bottle, and then a soft clink of metal behind you freezes your blood. 

You whip around to meet a wall of beskar, inches from your face.

You start to scream, but the sound catches in your throat when a big hand seizes you by the back of the neck and wrenches you around, bending you at the hips and slamming you chest-down against the stale wood of a storage crate. Cold metal presses your thighs and your heart smacks your ribs, your body completely trapped under Boba Fett’s mass in one motion. 

“I said I need information, little one, and you’re going to give it to me.” His voice scrapes over your body, sliding through the dim room like the shadow from a candle flame. You quail beneath him, brain racing with shock.

“I d-don’t—ugh!” The weight of his forearm comes down between your shoulder blades, pressing breathy little grunts from your lungs as you squirm. “I don’t sell out my customers.”

You freeze when the distinct click of a blaster registers right at your temple. 

“Never said I was buying.”

Panic zips down your spine, your chest heaving against the wooden crate as heat slams your core. Somewhere, your rational brain is scrambling to parse the threat, but something about the sheer filth and danger of it is setting your whole body on fire, making far more primal nerves come alive. Trying to shake the feeling, you squirm.

“At lea--ngh, least nothing’s changed there.”

Fucking hell, what are you doing? Besides sassing the known murderer with a blaster currently trained at your head, alone in a dark room. Yet somehow that very fact is making arousal bloom so wicked and fast that you can already start to feel your cunt throb against the fabric of his pants. 

“Willing to die to protect a few spineless slime crawlers who don’t even know your name?” Boba rocks his weight against you, powerful and lazy in the way he simply leans into his hips, grinds them up hard against your ass to keep you flattened over the edge of the crate. “Boss man lines his pockets while his good little pet works for scraps.” Air feels more scarce to your lungs by the second. “Interesting, how your loyalties lie.”

Indignance flares up your spine.

“I w-ouldn’t expect you to understand.” You try to put venom in the words, but it’s difficult between your breathlessness and the sheer eroticism of this position you’re in. “Small price to pay, f-for a good life.”

Through your annoyance, you can’t help feeling a twinge of enjoyment at his solidity, at how you can just discern the outline of him through his pants. An excited thrum of your pulse snaps to your core like a fuse.

Above you, Boba Fett chuckles.

“Is that what he gives you?” There’s a mockery to his tone that heats your blood, and you start to squirm in defiance before remembering the blaster at your temple. Fett simply crushes you harder, drawing your attention back to his crotch. “Seems to me like you’re the mouse in his attic.”

“I suppose you’re better than him? Than any of them?” you immediately bite, not wanting to acknowledge the truth behind his words. Instead, you grab that spark of bravery and crank the voltage until it drowns your doubt, throwing your caution to the stars faster than punching an airlock in hyperspace. “Do you even know m-my name, Mando?” A tiny giggle ripples your chest. “I know yours.”

“Might be the last one you know,” Boba growls, but you’re becoming fixated on his cock now, the way you could swear that it’s growing more distinct by the second.

Fear and pleasure wrack your brain, the combination intensifying so deliciously with the pressure of his groin against your ass that you can hardly think straight any more. In a moment of sick indulgence, you arch your back and shift just slightly, wanting to feel that pressure against something now pulsing and sensitive. 

The grip on your neck locks tight, and your breath stops. 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, princess.” 

He kicks your legs apart and crushes his hardening bulge against your pussy. And, fuck, you moan. You don’t even mean to, but the thrill of helplessness has you so mindlessly turned on that you can’t stop the noise from squeezing out of your throat.

“Filthy little thing you are.” 

There’s a shift in his tone now. The vice hold disappears from your nape just before your pants are wrenched unceremoniously over your ass and down to mid thigh. You gasp at the feeling of air brushing your bare lips. He takes a moment, and you think he must be looking at you. Heat blossoms from your face all the way down to your chest, and then he’s against you again, a palm coming down between your shoulders as coarse fabric presses flush with your cunt. 

You can really feel the outline of his cock now, hard enough to rival his armor but warm and thick against you, and you whimper. It’s only a click that snaps your awareness back to the weapon pointed at your head. 

“Let’s try this again, little mouse.” Boba’s voice comes lower and airier through the vocoder now in a way that blazes right through you. “You give me what I want, and perhaps you’ll inspire my generosity.”

In emphasis of his intent, he rocks his erection against the cleft of your pussy. Your eyes snap wide, an almost painful stab of arousal making you immediately whine louder than you intend to. “Fuck--oh, please!”

“Careful.” His hand slides up your neck, angling your face so that he can see it twist in shame and pleasure. “Wouldn’t want anyone finding you like this.”

Your cheeks blaze. Shallow breaths stutter in your lungs as his thumb tugs the pillow of your lower lip. And then he releases you, his hand moving back somewhere you can’t sense. The pressure against your ass shifts for a moment, just before the wide, hot shaft of his bare cock caresses your cunt.

“Last night there was a man here, Mon Cala, middle aged.” Your body is on fire as he speaks, the skin to skin contact dousing your brain in blind want. You grit your teeth, screw your eyes shut, trying hard to focus on what he’s saying while your pussy twinges around nothing. “He talked to the owner here, then he met with someone. Tell me who.”

A reluctant whimper leaves your lips, and the noise might just be one of the most pathetic you’ve ever made as your tongue still stubbornly refuses to slip. But Fett’s words ring again through your head with a resentful pang: the mouse in his attic. Is that what you’ll die as?

At your temple, the blaster’s safety disengages.

“Fuck! Okay, okay.” Your breath comes heavily, brain uncertain and lust-addled, fumbling for the details. “He um. Met a--mmh, a woman, I d-didn’t catch her name. Please--” Your voice trails off in a soft whine, your hips shifting back, trying to find the means to swallow his cock where it teases your tender core, entice him with the diversion now that you’ve given him a crumb.

“You must be dumber than I took you for, sweetling.” His hips retreat slightly, evading you. The sheer display of restraint is infuriating, electrifying. It shallows your breath with need. He stills again, a rough, gloved hand running firmly up your spine, pushing your shirt up to bare more of your skin to his view. “Tell me the rest.”

Your teeth set with a final, feeble whine of hesitation. More instinct than anything. But then a cold ring of metal presses your temple, and fresh fear unbinds your tongue in a deluge.

“S-she had, ah--civilian clothes, but, um… an Imperial s-standard issue blaster.” Your eyes screw in concentration, details flickering like a glitchy holocom through your brain. “I heard them talk about, uh. A shipment. For… Fuck, uh. Th-three cycles from now.”

Boba hums, a sound that makes your eyes roll back as you feel yourself nearly dripping against him, your slick coating his cock where it just barely parts you.

“Smart girl.” His hand drags indulgently down your back, coming to rest on your hip and squeezing. “Where’s the shipment going, princess?”

Torture. This is some kind of galactic war crime, you’re sure of it. Pleasure surges from your teased cunt and his grip on your flesh, and his voice is almost soothing now, coaxing you further towards complacency. It’s all too much. Your head rests against the crate, defeat washing in a gentle tide over you. 

“Going... to Hosnian Prime.”

A soft, satisfied puff of noise comes from the modulator. The barrel retreats from your temple. 

“Now, there’s a good girl.”

Warmth crashes through your lower belly, a strange and exhilarating sensation that suddenly makes you want to... purr? No one has ever spoken to you like this, and it’s tickling a part of your brain that feels far, far too good. But then his cock glides thick and heavy along your folds, obliterating your thoughts, and all you can think about is having that inside of you. 

“Fuck,” you whine as he slowly aligns himself, teasing up and down the drenched, tender flesh of your pussy. He takes his time, massaging the blunt head over your clit and sending little shocks through your muscles, making you shiver and clench. “Please, please…” 

“Tame little creature when you want to be,” he grits, pressing against your entrance with an exhaled groan. “Keep being good for me.” 

Slowly, he starts to push. And, oh, fuck.

You’re not ready. 

You’re wetter and needier than you’ve ever been in your life, and you’re still not fucking ready to take a cock like this one when it crushes in and stretches you, setting an ache through your hips that tells you whatever happens, you’re bound to feel him for days. 

A cry sticks in your throat and you will yourself to breathe, to relax as he sinks in further, forcing your walls to flutter and part around him. It truly feels like being broken open, and your fingers have to dig into the wood beneath you when he pulls out an inch and then pushes again, sinking deeper this time as a choked noise pulls through the vocoder.

By the time he finally bottoms out, you swear you can feel him shifting your guts. Every muscle in your pelvis is straining to take him, the intensity mind-numbing already. You’re nearly choking on your own attempts to breathe while he pauses, sheathed like this for a few moments, seeming to concentrate on his own breathing at the same time. 

And then his voice comes again, a growl, pitched even lower and more ferocious than before through a clutched breath. 

“Fuck, you’re a tight little thing.” 

Stars.

This is different.

It’s so hard to think, you’ve never felt more full, but something in the back of your mind is unfurling, turning hot and primal with a roiling kind of need that burgeons and begs at the feeling of his cock rooted so fucking deep inside of you. You’ve had sex before, sure, but this…

You’re about to get fucked. 

“Please…” you mewl. Desperation pierces you when you feel his fingers flex strong and firm around your hip in response. You turn your head, trying to glimpse him--only to realize that the blaster is still right next to your face, its angle nonchalant, close enough to brush your lips. 

Your mind is so drenched in lust, the first urge that strikes you is to stick out your tongue and wet the metal, its sharp alloy piercing your senses and making your pussy seize with the shudder of danger.

In your periphery, you see the visor snap to attention, like he wasn’t fully looking at you before, lost in his own pleasure. But now he is. And he gives the weapon an experimental twist, allowing for your lips to wrap, delicate and wet, just around the tip of the barrel.

“Fearless little mouse.” There’s something dark and charged in his voice. “You look good like that.”

A slight wiggle to open your jaw, and the blaster shoves past your lips, resting thick and cold on your tongue, lighting your spine with a new thrill. Your voice swells on a muffled moan around it, such a soft and lovely sound to accompany a thing that’s orchestrated countless deaths. 

“There we are. Nice and quiet now.” 

Finally, finally, he starts to thrust, slow and measured, forcing your body to yield around the width of him. Something burns hot in your belly with each steady stroke, wiping your brain of everything but his presence.

The rough material of a glove smothers one of your asscheeks, grips and pulls at the pillowy flesh, spreading you open as his thrusts take up a steady, powerful rhythm. Boba Fett lets out a long groan, and you can only imagine the view he has right now. It sears you alive, the knowledge that he likes looking at you like this, pitching and whimpering with his rhythm, the sight of your pussy stretched, helpless around his cock and your mouth wetting his blaster. 

Your spit slicks the barrel more with every thrust, and you can feel the mechanics shifting dangerously between your lips. But his trigger finger is steadier than death, and his control gives you the nerve to let your tongue lick out along the barrel, bathe in the electric wash of fear that sets all of your nerves into overdrive.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he snarls as his pace starts to kick up wilder. 

Intense pleasure cracks through you now, visceral in a way you’ve never felt, and it’s all you can do to keep relatively quiet. The barrel on your tongue is a sharp enough reminder, yet it fuels your arousal to burn hotter and wetter all the same. The more you concentrate on the powerful bliss coiling in your core and rippling outwards, the more you can feel yourself starting to tighten around him, your body yearning vaguely towards a release it can’t seem to center on.

You hear him groan as you squeeze him, his grip on your flesh flexing and shifting. A few more strong thrusts, and then his cock pulls all the way out of you with a woeful pang, the blaster vacating your mouth in the same motion to leave you empty, dizzied and clenching. But before you can unscramble your brain, the blaster slots back into its holster and he’s moving you. With an effortless kind of control, he flips you over, shifting you until the solid wood of the crate supports your ass.

He hikes both of your legs onto one shoulder and in one swift, easy motion, whisks your pants over your shoes and off of your ankles, tossing them carelessly into the darkness of the room before hooking your legs around his armored waist.

“Going to watch you cum, princess. Nice and pretty.”

Your mouth opens on a gasp at his words, and a gloved thumb immediately presses your tongue, the taste of leather and plasma residue grounding your senses enough to register that he’s lining his cock back up at the heat of your entrance. You whine around his thick digit, and he growls somewhere low in his chest as he pushes the thick head back in, this new angle making you see stars all over again. 

He doesn’t bother letting you adjust this time, just uses your wetness to his advantage to start railing through your tightness, burning and stretching you as that warm swell starts to crest again. It’s such a deep, full feeling, spreading a delicious ache from the spot where he hits you deep in your tummy. 

Your brows draw together, your whines pitching higher as you search the visor. It’s a wordless plea, your vision swallowed by the power of him fucking you deep, your body now screaming to cum but needing something you can’t quite pinpoint.

The hunter’s thumb slips out of your mouth, his hand forging an eager path down your body. He palms your tit over your shirt, before grabbing the low collar and yanking it down, baring your nipples to his view one after the other. His whole hand spans your torso as he hooks the lower hem with his thumb, bunching the material until both your belly and tits are bare, your shirt like a handle at your diaphragm that he uses to pound you even harder, watching your body jolt, overpowered by his thrusts.

Airy little wails brush through your lips, the pleasure all too intense and not enough at the same time. You can’t take it anymore, you need something on your clit, and your fingers twitch to seek out that precious target. But he’s already moving, his hips slowing to a lazier pace while his free hand finds some destination at his belt, and what he produces freezes you in your tracks.

“Steady now,” he breathes as he slips a long blade out of his belt and spins it by the hilt, his fingers almost too quick, too tactful for such a brute. 

Instinctual panic grips you at the sight of the weapon, making your legs try to close. But he’s pushed too deep in you, his frame has you pinned open, and there’s nothing you can do against the sheer breadth of his body. Powerless, you simply whimper.

“Wh… what are y--”

“Hush, princess.” 

A flick of his thumb and the vibroblade springs to life, its hum filling the quiet air. He starts to bring the blunt hilt of it down where your body yields to his. Alarm pierces you one final time, but then he touches the pommel, just barely, against the tender swell of your clit.

You want to fucking scream. As if in anticipation of this, he claps his hand over your mouth just in time for you to bite down on his glove while your eyes roll back in a powerful wave of ecstasy. The vibrations surge through the sensitive nerves, lighting your whole body up in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s pure bliss, and then a low, long growl slips through the helmet’s modulator at the feeling of your walls pulsing tight, strangling his cock. 

His thrusts deepen again, powerful and steady, stroking some devastating spot deep inside you. Your muffled wails get lost in the breath-dampened fabric of his glove while the intense pleasure crests from your clit, higher, higher, lasering in on that intangible cusp and barreling you straight towards it.

You suspend at the peak, all senses failing, and then your orgasm takes you in a riptide, surging through your nerves like liquid fire. The magnitude of it rends you, stronger than you’ve ever felt, dragging you under and forcing you to ride it out while it just pulls and pulls. By the time you regain your sight you’re shaking, waves of bliss still pulsing and crashing through your body in time to the strong rhythm of his hips, the glowing epicenter that unwavering vibration at your clit. 

Sobs wrack your chest, pour out high and lose themselves somewhere in the meat of his hand, and you think you try to catch a few breaths, but you can’t even come down. Boba’s voice cuts through the rush in your ears.

“Good. Good girl.” 

He holds the buzzing hilt of the blade impossibly steady against your clit and that glow is still so bright, twitching, starting to spill through your nerves again and holy shit you think you just might--

“Again.”

Your second orgasm shreds you like a plasma cannon.

You’re blind, numb to everything but the intense pleasure, nerves now as raw and sharp as the edge of the blade itself. His hand is tight over your face and you feel your cunt convulsing and gushing around his cock, slick cum spilling to wet your asscheeks, and it must be your own because his pace hasn’t let up. 

A clatter resounds on the edge of your consciousness and when your eyes come into focus, Boba’s hand is locking into your waist, the blade discarded somewhere in the room. His hips piston hard with a few vulgar slaps of flesh, the head of his cock crushing against your deepest parts before he wrenches out of you and spills over your bare stomach with a strangled roar, gripping himself at the base and thrusting against you as warm, thick ropes paint your skin.

His release is long. Grunts distort into rough static through the vocoder as he rides out the last pulses, until finally he braces himself on the crate beside your head, hunched over you like a beast, his chest plate rolling with heavy breaths. You can only blink at him through hazed, damp eyes, your body feeling weak and utterly fucked dumb. The hand over your mouth slowly unlocks its grip, dragging downwards and leaving you to take shallow gulps of air while he gives your tit a deliberate squeeze. 

And then he drags himself off of you, straightening with an almost-concealed groan as he adjusts himself and leaves you to blink at the dark ceiling, still letting oxygen find your brain. 

When you shakily manage to sit up, you just glimpse him slipping the discarded vibroblade back into his belt and turning towards the door. Even through your dizziness, you scoff. Figures. Bastard is just going to fuck your brains out and then leave you like this.

“You know,” you sigh, watching him and lazily trailing your fingers in a circle on your tummy, enjoying the lingering buzz of your skin and gathering a bit of his spend where it coats you, still warm. “I’d say that tip-off was at least worth a handful of credits in my jar on your way out.”

He turns and looks at you then, the helmet cocking in consideration for a moment. As soon as his attention is on you, your fingers move from his mess on your belly to your mouth, where you slowly suckle him off of your fingers, never once taking your eyes off the visor, a tiny ripple of playfulness wiggling your shoulders and curling your lips.

His shoulders square to you, and that hunter’s stance still makes your chest seize, sends a pulse to your exhausted pussy.

Metal clinks softly as he walks towards you, stepping between your knees until you’re forced to drop your hand from your mouth and look up at him, heart fluttering again. He brushes the knuckle of his forefinger under your chin.

“Fresh out.”

His back turns as you stare, speechless. And then the door swings on its hinges, and Boba Fett is gone.

[bffsoobin]

This Time Around

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

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

word count: 9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[libraryofloveletters]

Grey Sky Silhouette

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Post-prison Spencer (some of y’all don't like it), brief mention of murder, some kisses

Category: Angst/ lil bit of fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: I saw this picture and idk inspiration struck so here we are

italics are flashbacks 

-----

Grey clouds blocked out the sun, the curtains in the bedroom pulled shut. Rolling to his side of the bed, there was an empty spot, a spot where he should be. 

The sun was gone and so was your sunshine, your sweet love, your best friend, someone you hadn’t seen in months simply because he didn’t want to see you. 

You weren't ready to face the fact that you could have lost him over something he didn't do. Guilt hit you and you pushed the feeling away, you were ready to see him but he wasn't ready to see you. 

“Who are you here to see ?” 

“Spencer Reid” 

The officer took your ID and scanned the list for your name. “Sorry, you’re not on here” 

“What ?” you had heard him but you were still confused. “What do you mean I‘m not there ? I'm his partner” 

“Sometimes the inmates take people off their list” 

The officer looked behind you at the forming line. “Please move, figure this out somewhere else. There are people waiting” 

Looking over your shoulder, there were a few people behind you. An older couple, a woman and a small child, and a man at the end of the line. You stepped away from the counter, fishing your phone out of your pocket. 

Waiting for the phone to ring, her voice filled your ear. “Hello ?” she answered, “JJ?” she knew something was off from the way you called out to her. 

“Are you there?” she asked softly. 

“Why aren’t I on the list ?” 

“He doesn't want to see you” 

“I don't care. I deserve to see him.” 

JJ sighed, there were a few moments of silence before she spoke up again. “I’ll talk to him when I go tomorrow. I promise” she reassured you. “Thanks” was all you mumbled before hanging up the phone. 

The floor was cold, all the warmth seemed to leave the apartment with him. It was constantly dark and cold, nothing you did changed that. The frame on the nightstand caught your eyes, a picture of the two of you in the hospital after one of his multiple work injuries. He sat on the hospital bed and you were standing beside him. His head rested on your side with your arm over his shoulder. 

The frame strung a nerve clearly, it’s just that you didn't notice until you felt the tear roll down your face. Flipping the frame downwards so you couldn't see the picture, you went ahead with your routine. 

Get up, sulk, get ready, work, come home to an empty apartment. 

Over and over and over again. 

Your heart hurt every time you thought of Spencer, you couldn't help it. It hurt that he didn’t want to see you even though you wanted to see him. You just had to move on, move on from the pain but not from him. 

You could never move on from him. 

The phone rang, Penelope’s name flashed across the screen. She had been checking up on you a lot more after she heard about the list fiasco, they all had. 

“Hi Penelope” you cleared your throat, you could feel her happiness through the phone. “My angel y/n! how are you today ?” she asked sweetly, you couldn't help but smile. “I’m okay for now, how are you ?” 

“I’m good! I have to go right now but I'll come by for dinner tonight!” Something felt off to you. It wasn't abnormal for Penelope to stop by or even spend the night with you but she seemed cheery, unusually cheery today. 

“Sounds like a plan, is everything okay ?” 

“Oh yeah, I'm fine sugar” it sounded like something clicked on her end or unlocked. “I have to go, I love you!” she said before hanging up. The sound of an automated voice came from her end, announcing something you didn’t catch before she hung up. 

“I love you” the words rung in your head, except it wasn’t Penelope’s voice you were hearing, it was Spencer’s. 

The sand squished under your feet as you walked down the shoreline with Spencer. His face had a scowl on it as he looked down at your feet. “What’s wrong Spence ?” you asked him, noticing the expression on his face. 

“Does that not bother you ?” he questioned, his eyes still on your sand-covered feet.

“The sand ?” you asked, he nodded. 

“Did you know that sand is usually made of silica?” he looked over at you,

“I didn't, do tell me more doctor” you smiled at the man. 

“It's actually silicon dioxide, which is a compound that makes up most of the earth's crust. It also makes up mineral quartz and has many uses like making ceramics, concrete and countertops” his eyes shifted back down at the sand, kicking some with his shoe

“I love your facts Dr. Reid” 

“And I love you” he blurted out. 

Your mouth opened slightly, letting out a small “oh” 

“I didn-” “I love you too Spencer” 

The same feeling of hurt returned. He filled your thoughts 24/7, his voice, his face, his smile, his hands, everything made you think about him. You pushed the feelings away once again and got ready for work. Dragging yourself to the kitchen, his mug sat on the counter, right where he left it three months ago. Of course you had dumped the stale coffee and washed it, but you returned it to that exact spot. You cleaned and returned it to that spot. 

That was the last thing he left laying around before he got arrested. You couldn't bring yourself to move it. 

Sighing, the kitchen was empty, there was nothing to eat. Giving up on your sad apartment, you headed out for the day.

-- 

Penelope stood in front of the green barred door, her heel tapped against the concrete as she waited for them. Only two of them were allowed in and although she worked for the FBI, she didn't have clearance like Luke and JJ did. 

The officer pulled the door open and Spencer walked through, JJ and Luke not far behind him. Penelope's arms opened and he made his way over to her, pulling her into a long awaited hug. 

“I missed you so much” she whispered to him, her arms wrapped around her friend. “I missed you too” he held her for a few moments longer before letting go. 

The four of them headed to the SUV, Penelope filling Spencer in on everything he missed the last three months. “Sergio is good, he’s at my apartment right now.” she told him while showing him pictures. 

Spencer smiled at her, he appreciated everything they had done for him while he was in there, but his mind kept drifting back to the one person he had yet to see. 

“They came to see you Spence” JJ said to him, there was a feeling of tightness in his stomach. 

“I don't- I can’t let them see me like this” Spencer’s head hung low, he couldn't look at JJ. He knew what she was going to say but he couldn't bear to hear it. 

“Why?” she asked, “y/n called and said that their name wasn’t on the list. Why’d you take it off?” 

Spencer looked up at her. They both knew why he had taken your name off, he never wanted you to see him like this. He could barely bring himself to say your name right now. 

He met you after a low point in his life, you were his saving grace. Letting you see him like this was the last thing he ever wanted. As he went to answer JJ, the alarm went off. JJ promised to be back the next day to talk to him. 

Spencer looked over the window as Luke drove down the road. Penelope’s touch brought him back from his thoughts. “They’re okay. I spoke to y/n this morning” 

“Do they know ?” Spencer asked her, his eyes still fixated on the road. Penelope shook her head. “They should be at work right now. Do you want to go home or go back to the BAU?” 

“Home” Spencer whispered. 

The word felt foreign. Home was somewhere he dreamt of while he was in prison, never did he think he'd be able to see his home again, to see you again. The drive was quiet, the song of the rain hitting the vehicle was all he heard. 

Spencer stood outside the apartment building, Penelope stood beside him. She pulled out a bunch of keys from her purse and handed them to him, “do you want me to come up with you ?” Spencer shook his head. “Thank you” he hugged her once more, he walked towards the door looking back at his friends once more before heading inside. 

The walk up was quiet, it was the middle of the day. He bumped into his neighbour who was about to take his dog out on a walk. He asked Spencer where he had been the last few months, Spencer just told him he was away on a work assignment. 

The lock clicked and he pushed the door open. The scent of your perfume and coffee filled his senses. That was a smell he’d never get tired of. He looked around, taking in the space. Although it was his place, he had gotten used to a 6x6 cell and this would take some readjustment. He slipped off his shoes and walked across the floor, his feet padded across the hardwood floor rather than the sound of clicking on concrete he had gotten used too. 

Spencer’s head peered into the kitchen, there was a pot of coffee on the counter. His hand pressed against the side of the pot, it was cold but he didn’t mind. He opened the cupboard to look for his mug but it wasn't there, he looked down to see it on the counter, the sight of the mug brought a smile to his face. 

“Do you have to go ?” you asked him, your knees curled up to your chest as you sat on the chair by the table. 

“Yes I do, you know I do” Spencer smiled at you, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“What am I going to do while you’re gone? maybe I'll adopt a puppy to keep me company” you tease him, he rolled his eyes. 

This was the first time since you had moved in that Spencer was leaving you at home by yourself for a case. “Read a book my darling, but no puppies in here” he set his mug down on the counter before making his way over to you.

He leaned down slightly, his hands cupping your face. Smiling up at him, Spencer leaned down and placed a small kiss against your lips. Your hands reached up his face, holding him close to you as he began to step away. 

“Mhm no” you mumbled against his lips, getting up as he moved back from the chair. The two of you were still holding each other and you were still kissing but you didn’t want to let go. 

“It’s only 3 days” he mumbled, his lips on yours still. 

“Spencer” you whined, he moved back towards the door and you followed him. Your arms rested over his shoulder and his hands were on your waist. “I love you” he kissed you once more, 

“I love you too” 

Returning to the living room with the mug in his hand, he made his way over to the window. He pulled the curtains open in an attempt to let some light in but was met with grey, cloudy skies instead. Spencer never minded the clouds, he wasn't a big fan of the sun nor the cold, but the rain was perfect. This was his favourite type of weather, it was not cold out but it wasn't hot either, there was a warm breeze out. Everything came to a stand still when it was like this. 

-- 

The grocery bags dragged up the stairs as you fumbled through your pocket for the keys. The sound of the record player coming from the apartment, you stopped in front of the door. Taking a moment to assess your options before opening the door. 

Best case, you had turned it on this morning and forgot to take the pin off the vinyl. Worst case, someone broke into the apartment and is waiting to kill you. 

What did you have to lose ?

The lock clicked as you turned the key, you pushed the door open and pulled the bags in with you. All the lights were off, the record player had a vinyl on it and there was a person standing by the window. The person had their back to you, they looked like a silhouette in the dull light coming from the window. 

Stepping further into the apartment, you could see the person a bit better. They wore a white shirt and grey slacks. They had a head full of brown curls, the same brown curls your love has. 

But, it couldn't be him. Could it ?

“Spencer ?” you called out, a few feet away from the person by the window. They turned towards you. 

“Spencer.” you let a breath of relief, Spencer smiled at you. “Miss me ?” he asked, you shook your head. “Always.” you smiled, Spencer gave you a small smile. He picked up the bags you left by the door and walked to the kitchen, you followed him. He began putting away the groceries, “I got it” you took the cereal box from him, “it’s okay. Can I please ?” he looked at you, you handed the box back to him. 

You watched as he put them away. “I’m gonna change, I'll be back” you let him in the kitchen and headed to the bedroom. The frame was faced down, you lifted it and put it back in its place. You changed and headed back, you needed to talk to him. 

“Spence?” you sat on the couch, he made his way over and sat beside you. “Can we talk ?” you asked, he nodded. “We can do whatever you want” he said, you sighed. 

“Why didn’t you let me come see you ? I know it was hard at first but Spencer, seriously ? I love you, I wanted to be- I should have been there for you.” You let out your feelings, you both knew this conversation was coming. It didn't matter if he got out yesterday or 20 years from now, it was going to happen. 

“I couldn’t let you see me like that y/n.”

“Like what?” 

“Rock bottom. You never need to see me like that, you understand ?” Spencer reached out and rested his hands on yours, you held his. 

“Spencer, that’s why I'm here, to help you. Rock bottom or not, I’m always gonna be here because I want to be, you understand ?” putting the emphasis on the last two words. Spencer just nodded. 

Spencer leaned into the side of the couch, you could see the sleepiness on his face. You opened your arms, he leaned forward and made himself comfortable on you. He sat between your legs, his head resting on your chest, his back against you. Spencer let out a hum as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“I’m sorry” he mumbled. 

You leaned down and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “It's okay baby. You're home and that’s all that matters.”

---- 

Tag List: @spencer-blake-supremacy​ @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @tclaerh @luke-alvez @iconicc​ @lieberhers​ @pumpkin-reads​ @katexrichardson​ @sluttytears​ @thelukealvez​ @scandinavian-punk​ @rosesonmyheart​ @haleymalaffey​ @shotarosleftpinky​ @mrs-dr-reid​ @hqtchner​ @averyhotchner​ @willlemonheadsupremacy​ @potter-reid​ @cloudy-reid​

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 146

Whew, on a roll with queuing these up!  Kind of proud of myself.

Speaking of proud... So many familiar names in the notes this week!  Y’all are giving me a huge smile during a super busy week/month. Work has been bananas, weekends have been insane, and knowing that all of you are reading and enjoying the story gives me the encouragement I need to keep writing and to make the effort to keep the quality as consistent as possible.

All of you literally encourage me to take care of myself :)  Thank you so much. 

And, always, thank you to @baelpenrose, @charlylimph-blog, and @the-raven-fae, for everything you do, from beta-reading, to giving me stuff to read, to just keeping me reasonably sane. 

I huffed as I put down the box of blankets in our new quarters. With our expected drop from hyperspace getting closer, we had finally been assigned quarters closer to the Archives.  Xiomara and Tyche had both told me I was being ‘too nice’ by having Maverick put in the transfer request rather than doing it myself, but I still didn’t think it was fair to use my unwilling position on the Council as leverage to get bumped to the front of the line. After all, we had a few months to go, and with everything else going on, it wasn’t like I was in a hurry.

“Conor, be careful!” Maverick scolded as a box of dishes landed on the regrettably-smaller counter. “You’ll break them!”

“Mav, I love you to pieces,” Conor grunted and stretched his back. “But I want to point out again that we can just recycle broken ones and request new ones.” Completely contradictory to his own words, he wrapped the other man in a crushing hug and whispered something in his ear.

When Maverick gave him a skeptical look, Conor opened the box and pulled out a chipped plate. “The ones on the bottom are the ones with no chips, cracks, or stains. Promise.”

Hang on. “You let Conor pack the dishes, but you only let me pack the blankets?!”  I was honestly hurt.

Maverick kicked the floor gently, his way of showing embarrassment. “I was worried I would break them, and you know how attached I am to the chipped plates, and I knew he wouldn’t get rid of them….”

“Baby,” I whispered. “Babe. It’s okay. I like the chipped ones, too. I would never get rid of those…” I held out a hand to see if he was receptive to a hug. When he tugged my hand, I squished his waist the best I could.

“You’re so particular with the clothes, though…”

“Because I despise pills against my skin.” I shuddered at the thought. “They feel… dirty.”

I could feel him shudder in agreement. “They do, don’t they?”

Conor gave us both a squish and shook his head, chin rubbing against us both. “Just leave my shirts alone, yeah?”

Maverick’s agreement with my philosophy nearly vibrated my soul. He never notices when we replace the pit-stained ones, it’s all okay. We both casually replaced the never-ceasing rotation of Conor’s white shirts when they were dirty past the point of laundering, but made a point to leave the permanently grungy coveralls until they either gained enough sentience to run away or fell apart in despair.

“Your shirts and Brenda, promise,” I tried to swear as solemnly as possible. ‘Brenda’ was the tilandsia xerographica that he had gifted me that first Insert Winter Holiday. She was currently twelve inches, and was the third love of Conor’s life.

He nodded before releasing us. “Mav, the silverware is still by the door so you can make sure everything is in the right place. Sophia, I’ll put up the clothes if you’ll sort where you want the blankets.” Without another word, he palmed the thermostat control and adjusted it to the agreed-upon settings we had maintained for years in our shared quarters. “Head’s up, once I get the clothes sorted, I gotta go help Sam and Derek move.”

My neck cramped from the speed I whipped around to look at him. “Derek and Sam are moving?”

Maverick nodded, his chin against my scalp. “They mutually requested relocation to stay in similar proximity to our quarters… specifically to Mac.”

I rolled my eyes. “It is absolutely to be close to Mac. Not my blanket, not soup on tap, not Conor’s plants - “

“They’re your plants, love.”

“Tell the plants that,” I joked. “You keep them alive.”

He muttered something that sounded distinctly like ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ as he gently set a box under Brenda’s stand and started unpacking spritz bottles, fertilizers, and the world’s tiniest pruning shears.

I can honestly say I did not laugh.  With the exception of the shears, all six spray bottles, the soaking tub, and the three different fertilizers had actually lived with me longer than he had. “The point is that I’m sure they aren’t just moving to be closer to Mac… he roams the entire Ark, so it’s a pretty lame excuse.”

Maverick and Conor both shrugged before the former spoke. “Sam likes how you cook his produce. And it’s a long walk from our previous quarters.”

“I am not going to apologize that his strawberries go better in ketchup, or that his tomatoes make amazing ice cream,” I waved off. “I know it’s a side effect of using the known composition of Von’s soil and light, but… the strawberries are orange. Like a bell pepper.”

“But the tomato soup from his tomatoes is amazing,” Conor granted. “None of us even like tomato soup.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. “The one recipe you like, Sophie, proves my point, it’s not an argument. It’s the only recipe you don’t….” He gestured vaguely. “You know.”

“Zhuzh,” I provided. “I don’t zhuzh it.”

Somewhat out of nowhere, Maverick sat down in the new but familiar armchair and asked, “Is it expected to have a housewarming when you live in the same… building… ship… thingie… but moved quarters?”

“I - “ Gaping, I turned to them both. “I’m not sure. I mean… we celebrated when you two moved into my quarters, but that was more a… wedding-slash-engagement thing. Have we been invited to any for just moving?”

Conor shrugged. “All the moves were done in the first few years to settle down. Nothing like this.”

I tapped my chin before pulling up my datapad. “I’m seeing that a total of fifty people - fifty, really? - have been relocated, just to be closer to the Archives.” I took a couple of deep breaths. “I know it’s the furthest Protection Zone from the rest of the ship, but there are only fifteen people sheltering there, not counting Tyche and Alistair.”

Maverick gaped at me before waving both hands widely. “You moved, so a total of five people relocated down here, which we were just discussing, and you don’t understand how fifteen people turned into fifty?” He scowled. “Sophie, I know you can do math.”

I glared at him. “Given the nature of relationships on the Ark, I thought it would be higher, smartass.” I leaned over to kiss his chin. “But that also makes me think… block party? Take the pressure off of us?”

Conor looked thoughtfully at both of us. “I think we should put up curtains, or - you know, soft barriers, something visible but easy to navigate - for the apartments where folks can duck and cover from being wound up too much?”

He had a good point. “Just to be clear,” I ventured, “you just mean the apartments that people already know they can duck into?”

Conor’s enthusiastic nod dropped mine and Mav’s shoulders by a solid two inches. “Yeah, color code them or put proximity alerts on them, something. I don’t think anyone overstimmed wants to wander into a room full of strangers, right? Derek would know he can walk in here, straight to our bed, pile up under the blankets, and he’s fine, but… what if he walks into another person’s bedroom? Fuck all, I’ll kill someone.”

He had a point. I hated that he had a point, but he was right.

“We’re purple, right?”

Conor and Maverick collectively rolled their eyes hard enough to make my head cramp. “Duh,” was the only response Maverick gave, while Conor just shook his head.

It was only a week later that they had the door to our old quarters repainted and retextured,  and had the doors to our new quarters painted screaming purple with green and black stripes.  Just to be clear, apparently.

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[phairfantooooom]

Obey Me Explained….. Kinda

In which I do my best to explain the shit hell that is the Time Travel in Obey Me. 

Spoilers: It’s absolute bullshit

So we start in chapter uhhh 15 technically since the plot twist is explained that Barbatos is actually a OP Time Wizard, which feels like a throwaway plot device… like dude there are so many ideas and you use Time Travel? Come on.

However I do appreciate the Yugioh Pyramid room. Good taste.

Anyways Barbatos gives you VERY CLEAR INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW TO NOT FUCK UP and what does MC do? Why THEY FUCKING BREAK VERY FUCKING RULE IN THE LAWS OF TIME TRAVEL. *screams in quantum physics*

Barbatos’ Rules of Time Traveling (It’s more so Timeline Hopping but you know what, I can scream all day but it won’t change anything)

Do not reveal you are from the future (More like don’t reveal you are from a different Timeline or Universe)

Do not meet your past self (Hello??? Doppelgängers??? Stay the FUCK away)

Don’t make contact with others from the past. (Go back, observe how Belphie got out and then get the hell out)

To get back to this point in time (Read: Timeline) you need to KNOCK and ENTER through the door you used to get to the past 

Now you may be thinking, Huh? What door? I don’t remember going back through a door in the story…

And you would be right. You didn’t.

From here I’ll be explaining the Timeline and order of events and speculation as to why it occurred the way it did. 

For reference. There is the Original Timeline. Which is OT1, this is the Timeline of chapters 1 to the end of 15.

The Second Timeline, OT2 is the Timeline where Belphie kills you.

The Third and Final Timeline, OT3 is the Timeline we are currently in. Which is from Chapter 16-12 and onwards.

Alright now that’s out of the way let’s get this shit sorted shall we?

When you go through the wack time travel door you are sent back to Chapter 12-13, to the perspective of the brothers as they hide so that THIS TIMELINES YOU can go romance/befriend/ WHATEVER Lucifer. 

So we start with OT1’s MC dropping into Mammon’s bedroom. You know, possibly fortnite like. With everyone in there. Worst possible outcome. And rather than fucking BOLTING, you stay and chat. You know, despite being told not to. You have the option to lie about how you ended up in the room but it doesn’t change the FACTS.

At this point, there are two MC’s. One from OT1 and one that is currently vibing with Lucifer.

The boys end up kicking you out of the room and telling you to go chit chat with Lucifer, unaware that there is already a different version of you doing that.

So you hear Lucifer and your other self coming down the hall and this is where shit starts to get weird.

Regardless of which option you choose (Run, Hide, Turn Invisible- which by the way seems kinda like a weird option right? I’ll get to that later) you end up going into Lilith’s room.

Now. Directly from the transcript.

It’s so warm in here.

I recognize this place. It feels like someplace I know very well.

Now. Time to over analyze. You may be wondering why this matters. I’ll get to that in a bit I promise.

It’s stated that it’s warm. But really that doesn’t make sense. The room is stagnant. Nobody comes in or out. The room is abandoned since Lilith is dead and nobody uses it. However, I have a theory that Lilith is spiritually attached to your body which is why you sense what you feel.

Lilith probably has plenty of memories of sitting by the FIREPLACE in her room with Beel and Belphie. A lot of times people with spirit attachments get senses of déjà vu when they are near places that the Spirit used to frequent when the Spirit was alive.

The next area of weirdness is Leviathan. He comes in, unannounced and addresses you as if you were Lilith.

Transcript:

I’m coming in, okay?

Aha, I thought I’d find you in here.

Wait, Belphie’s not here?

Huh, that’s weird… He was just telling me that he was going to stop by your room.

Both of you were playing hide-and-seek, right?

He said he couldn’t find you. He looked like he was about to cry.

Why don’t you try to go find Belphie yourself? I mean, I guess it’s hard to say who’s it at that point, but still.

Well, see ya later.

Alright. So we have a lot to unwrap here, but I’ll make it short and sweet. Something clearly happened when you KNOCKED and ENTERED Lilith’s room (Hint Hint Nudge Nudge) What happened you ask? You jumped timelines. Which is why everything seems disjointed and jarring. It’s not supposed to be normal or feel normal, the game is subtly telling you that you aren’t supposed to be there.

Time is beginning to fray at the seams and when you exit the room you jump into another timeline AGAIN. As you go to the stairs to get to Belphie which you would think should be vacant, they are not.

From a casual players perspective you’d think oh! Well Lucifer and past me are in the living room, and the brothers are in Mammon’s room. So it’s all clear, right?

Wrong.

From the moment you exited Lilith’s bedroom you entered the OT2 Timeline. Which takes place roughly right after Lucifer imprisons Belphie in the attic. And at this point in time, you haven’t arrived in the Devildom yet.

I make this assumption based on the transcript:

Belphegor: What scares you is the thought of disappointing Diavolo, isn’t it?!

Say something! Lucifer!

The old Lucifer wasn’t like this. He wasn’t afraid of what someone else thought of him. He wasn’t pathetic like that.

Lucifer: You’re free to think whatever you want, Belphegor. Also…

I’d say you’ve changed as well.

It would seem weird for them to be arguing like this in the present since it’s like. Wow y’all are really just arguing over the same plot point for an ENTIRE year? Damn and I thought I was stubborn.

Anyways.

Lucifer comes down the stairs. You hide and yadda yadda and you goooo upstairrrrssss

Oh boy oh boy this gets FUCKED in hurry folks

So you YOU can just. Open the door. Without Lucifer’s pact? 🤔 k. And then you go and have familiar dialogue choices to wake Belphie up and blahhhhh

Let me get something off the table here. I am calling entire Bullshit on the Lilith is my ancestor origin story. I hate it and you may or may not hate it too so I’ll present a better argument.

Lilith, the lovely gal that she was, upon remembering who she was when she died decided to haunt the House of Lamentation. Which would provide reasoning as to WHY people believe the House is haunted.

When you come to the house of Lamentation to stay with the brothers you catch Lilith’s eye, and she sees that you have the potential to fix the rifts between the brothers. When she attaches herself to you she forms a pseudo pact with you. Why is this important? Because that’s how you got the dumb door open in the OT2 Timeline.

Now some of you may be screaming, BUT THEN HOW DID IT WORK IN THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE THEN HMMMM? And to that I answer. Lilith could see how the conversation between Lucifer and you was heading and she went to go unlock the door. And before you yell and say BUT SHE IS A GHOST-

Ghosts can manipulate objects, yeah? All she had to do was open the door.

Now this is my theory, in the canon of the game it uses garbage Terminator Time Travel logic which is A PARADOX. Feel free to fight me on this, I have receipts.

Anyway. You open the door. Oh but! You can choose to call out before you do. But conveniently nobody answers. Which means one of two things. Either Belphie falls asleep very quickly, or something else is at work here.

Remember those turn invisible options? Kinda strange right? I mean they wouldn’t even work anyways so why were they listed? Answer: Lilith. Lilith is a ghost so at times of being discovered it would be easy for a ghost to just vanish. That’s why it’s listed as if it were one of the choices you would instinctively make.

Belphie had just been conversing with Lucifer, and while he is the Avatar of Soth, you have seen his anger. He wouldn’t succumb to sleep while enraged. And he has no reason to ignore you either.

What do I think? 

*puts on tin foil hat like it’s a crown*

It’s because something isn’t letting him hear you.

I’ll get to that something later. First things first.

You get in the room and you have some…. choice dialogue. In OT1 Lilith had let Belphie out and naturally since she is attached to you, you have the same instinctive reaction to do the same. The difference is that you are still you. That’s why there is a Lilith choice and there is a you choice.

Transcript of Chapter 13-10

??? (Lilith):

Belphie…

Wake up…

Sorry Belphie…

Now the choices from Chapter 16-4

Wake up. (Lilith)

Belphegor. (MC)

Sorry. (Lilith)

It’s okay. (MC)

This might be over analyzing but fuck it. We ain’t here to under analyze. 

Moving right along, remember how I said we are at the point where you weren’t in the devildom? Well you went through another door, and jumped timelines again. And not ONLY that but you jump into the body of the OT2 MC, your memories are those of OT1 but you are in the body of OT2.

Where is your OT1 body? It’s hidden by the stairs patiently waiting for you to die so you can inhabit it again.

Weird right? But it makes sense, and here is why.

When Belphie brings you to the edge of death you are lying on the border of the afterlife. As such you would be a lot more susceptible to, let say, communication with ghosts.

A.k.a Our good Lilith.

ALSO NOTE Lilith never outright says she is our ancestor and as such I’m going to ignore what Diavolo says because I don’t trust him for reasons. Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but I don’t trust him. At. All.

I’m more inclined to believe that Lilith was trying to say “Because you are my last hope.” Rather than descendant. I mean she outright says she chose you and that she has been watching over you and the brothers. Fact-check brought to you by Chapter 16-10.

Alrighty. Still here? Good.

Lilith lends you some of her power. And you pop back into existence.

Now at first I thought. Oh hey Lilith reversed time! That’s neat, now Barbatos isn’t too OP.

Except…. that’s not what happened at all.

The body you had been killed in was in Mammon’s arms. And your OT1 mind and body are now in what I call OT3. The final timeline. Not the true timeline, but the final one.

Now you really should skedaddle back to the palace and go to the yugioh room AND LEAVE 

But you get caught. And things get very very…. suspicious. History at this point IF we were time traveling would be fucked, but since I don’t believe we are, we are still golden.

ALSO TO EVEN PUSH MORE ON THIS FACT YOU HAVE A FLASHBACK TO BARBATOS TELLING YOU NOT TO COME INTO CONTACT WITH ANYONE

But a moment later Leviathan sees you. And things get funky. The OT2 you vanishes, we have canon confirmation that both OT1 and OT2 WERE REAL VERSIONS OF YOU. No fakes here folks.

Now. Here is what piqued my interest.

You explain the story of Lilith and Belphie calls you a liar before Lucifer proclaims it to be true. Then Lucifer asks you how you know about it.

When you tell him the truth, that he had told you, he denies it and asks for an explanation. Before you can so much as breathe a response someone intervenes.

Who you may ask? 

Diavolo, of course.

He makes a proclamation about you being Lilith’s descendant and your connection to her. Lucifer often tries to interject but is shut down. Every. Single. Time.

Hmmmm indeed.

Spiritual attachments, if they are strong enough can cause visions. And you may see memories from the spirit. 

I firmly want to believe that all this is bullshit in an attempt to distract us from the fact that we are not in the correct timeline. 

I mean…. did anyone notice just how easy Belphie gave in once Diavolo used the Lilith card? I mean, seriously, the guy killed you. And attempted to do so again not even five minutes earlier!

Diavolo and Barbatos don’t want you dead. And naturally you’d reason that of course they wouldn’t! The exchange program requires you to be alive after all. But what if…. there is more to it? I have reason to believe that Diavolo has more in mind than just the exchange program.

I mean this is the same man who Barbatos serves, it would be easy for him to just…. manipulate reality. We saw an example of this when the OT2 body vanished.

However keep in mind that the Diavolo and Barbatos we are speaking to are not the same as the original ones. These two are from OT3. And they might have a very very different agenda when compared to OT1.

In Chapter 16-19 we ask Barbatos if we warped history.

This is what we get back:

I know I told you that I have the power to see both the past and the future, but the truth is that there’s one more secret —something I still haven’t mentioned.

You see, I have the power to select from any number of different potential realities and make any of them into the sole reality.

Within the various potential realities, there are an infinite number of versions of MC…

...however, in the sole reality I chose, the one and only MC is the one right there. That’s why the previous MC disappeared while you remained…

Now by this logic, there are an infinite number of Barbatos’. Which poses an interesting question. OT3 Barbatos is acting as if he is OT1, which he is not. But him acting shady isn’t not the big issue here, believe it or not.

He can manipulate reality. Unravel it at his fingertips. He himself could have gone back and figured out that the ghost of Litith was the one to have opened the door. Which begs the question, why didn’t he?

Either OT1 Barbatos does not possess the ability to manipulate reality or he had withheld information on purpose. 

Now that’s a scary thought. I mean why would they withhold information unless…. unless…

You were a danger.

I am in the belief that Barbatos of OT1 is on your side, he gives instructions on how to get back. Because you NEED to get back. There are consequences for messing with time, like…. getting stuck in a parallel reality. *wink wink*

On the other hand… if Barbatos of OT1 COULD manipulate reality then why bother with you unless… there was an extra variable at play.

What if Barbatos couldn’t see what happened. What if Mister OP Time Wizard suddenly encountered an anomaly with you? What if this entire situation was orchestrated by Diavolo in an effort to figure out why Lilith attaches herself to you?

But. The horror doesn’t end here folks.

I believe that OT3 Diavolo and Barbatos are lying in an effort to keep you here, in OT3. After all, Barbatos just yeeted the OT2 MC into smoke after all. And we have NO idea where the OT3 MC is. Honestly I have a very funny feeling that you, the OT1 mc, have powers of your own. Ones that are not related to Lilith.

Because Lilith is just lending her aid, you already have something there for her to boost.

You traveling back in time (Timeline hopping, fight me) May have been a test, a test to see if you had powers locked up inside you.

And I think that you do. I think that we are being played as a fool and that there is something much larger at play here.

Or - And please hear me out - I’m going stir crazy in this quarantine.

Hope you guys enjoyed 💚

A/N this took me about 2 hours? To write and bounce between apps. This is about 2.8k words. Maybe I’ll come back and elaborate more on this but it’s late and I’m tired lmao. Someone take the tin foil away from me-

[bonny-kookoo]

Bunny Boy (JJK x Reader)☁️⚠️🔪(💜)🔞 Part 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Yandere!AU, Stalker!AU, questionable romance, smut, Oneshot

Warnings: (oh boy) Stalking, Obsession, Yandere themes, cute Koo but aggressive, he ready to fight, graphic description of violence, blood, very twisted JK, oblivious! Reader, kinda Stockholm-syndrome Reader?, soft romantic lovemaking, body worship, Dom! Jungkook, Sub! Reader, Handjob (fem. receiving), oral (fem. receiving), protected sex because even with your mind scrambled up in a frying pan we still wrap it before tapping it y’all hear me STDs ain’t cute Susan

Summary: It all started with a hello kitty charm.

A/N:(IMPORTANT) I’d like to note here that I do not condone nor romanticize any of the things depicted in this. This is purely fictional, and only to be seen as a work of art, not as a depiction of real life relationships. For short: if he a creep, kick his balls, don’t kiss. Thank you.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

His eyes had seen the words written in neat lettering time and time again, yet he still read it again, trying to calm himself down.

They were trying to take you away.

Your parents were basically not as financially stable as you thought, basically having the audacity to ask you for money.

He was trying not to snap.

He'd known that your mother was a whore, already trying to safe your situation by digging up information he'd rather delete from his mind, forever scarred with the blasphemic image of her showing herself off to strangers on the web like a cheap commercial before a video starts, desperation being an understatement to describe her actions. Or maybe she did it only for the thrill.

She was a vile and distusting woman after all.

It was quite confusing to think of her as the woman who'd been responsible for bringing you into this world. He had a hard time believing it as he thought about your gentle and sweet nature, pure and caring while this sorry excuse of a human being did everything to play with karma it seemed.

Well, maybe he'd change his name for a day and play that role for her.

After all, she was an impatient woman he'd noticed from her constant reminding to buy obscene photos and short videos of her truly underwhelming body for an amount of money he'd rather spend on a coffee and a small breakfast to share with you, if he was being honest.

Why someone would genuinely pay for content like that was beyond him.

"I dont.. understand-" The female voice quivered on the other side of the line, making the corners of his lips turn upwards a bit as he listened to it, gaining some sort of satisfaction in knowing he'd gotten under her skin.

"Oh but I think you do." He said, voice smooth like velvet as he watched her pace back and forth in front of her admittedly bad webcam of her opened laptop. Living off of her husbands money couldn't be so luxurious he thought, if she couldn't even afford a decent laptop for the things she did whenever no one was looking.

It was truly making his saliva taste bitter merely thinking about it.

"If you think deleting your account will safe you, you're even more stupid than I initially thought." He mumbled into his phone as he saw her eyes widen, hands stalling as her gaze locked with the tiny device on top of her screen. She probably paled, yet the quality was too bad to tell for sure. "Everything has already been saved and will remain in my possession for as long as I have need of it." He stated, and clicked his tongue as she seemed to think of something to get herself out of it. "And remember; calling the police or informing any other authority will only result in you having to admit to your crimes as well. And I believe that isn't truly what you want." She snapped, hitting her table as she watched the camera, unknowing how Jungkook didn't even pay attention anymore, knowing he'd finally caught her head inside his noose.

"How much do you want?" She gritted out, and he chuckled, before clearing his throat.

"Your mindset truly disgusts me." He said, before sighing. "I don't want your fucking money."

He sat down properly again as he looked at his screen again.

"But I want you to do something for me.."

"It's nice to know that she finally found someone who can look after her." Your father stated, smiling at Jungkook who sat next to you at the table,taking your hand in his as he mirrored the gesture, spotting the way your mother tensed up in the corner of his vision, making him chuckle a bit.

"No, really, I am happy I've found her." He said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit shyly, making you giggle at his antics. Initially, you'd been a little worried when your parents wanted to meet Jungkook, not even knowing how they got to know about your relationship- your mother, however, had cleared things up for you, explaining that he'd updated them on your condition when you were in hospital. Maybe she did care, after all. "Right, angel?" He said, and you nodded, smiling with a bit of redness on your cheeks.

Absolutely divine.

"Alright, let me clean this up, You guys can head to bed, its already late." Your father said as he stood up, everyone else following after, when you'd suddenly grabbed Jungkooks plate and empty glass, smiling. Out of the corner of his he could see your mother empty her glass greedily, making him smile even wider.

Greed was a sin to be punished, after all.

"I'll do that, don't worry." You smiled, and he cooed at the sight. You were so absolutely sweet, he was always astounded at it, even though he should be getting used to it by now. He'd never get used to you, however. He nodded, giving you a kiss to your cheek as your father called for your mother, who'd been about to leave the table.

"Can you show Jungkook here where the guest room is? Help him set the bed, will you." He spoke, warmth as fake as her eyelashes as she smiled tensely, nodding towards Jungkook as he followed, comfortable with leaving you and your father alone for the moment. He wasn't a threat at all.

Your mother however, was a different story.

If she'd thought he wouldn't pick up on her dark gazes and blunt lies she truly was brainless. But then again, considering what she did with her freetime, he wouldn't be surprised to find her entirely empty.

Opening the door of the guest room, your mother closed the door behind him, slowly walking towards his back which was turned towards her, hands running over his shoulderblades as he shuddered.

But not with pleasure.

"I bet a young boy like you has stamina, heh?" She said, trying to form a seducing tone with her voice, yet failed as his eyes continued to stare forward, cold as ever as he stood unmoving, even when she came even closer. "Why would you get yourself someone like her anyways? There's nothing about her.." She chatted away, before stopping. "Wha-" She breathed out as she felt something poke her hip.

She was dead inside already, so why was she still up and walking like a zombie?

"You truly are disgusting." He murmured, turning around to hold his hand against her throat, backing her up until she could feel the wooden door against her back, chin pushing itself upwards as she looked at him with wide eyes. "To imagine that your rotten womb gave birth to an angel like her.." He said, eyes still trained on hers as he pushed a bit more, feeling and hearing her struggle, before moving away from her, snapping the knife he'd in his other hand shut to put it back inside his pocket as he opened the drawers, searching for fresh sheets. "I advise you to not ever touch me again if you want to keep your skin intact. It's nauseating enough that I have to share the same roof with someone like you tonight." He said, as he finally found what he was looking for, not caring as she swallowed hard, leaving the room and him alone, but not before running into you.

"Oh, sorry, I.. Uh, Jungkookie?" You asked, peeking into the room as his entire demeanor made a full 180 in front of your mothers eyes, body language suddenly speaking a different dialect it seemed, as he smiled, walking up to you, and leading you inside the room, closing the door with a last warning look thrown at her.

"Please angel.." He hummed against your skin, as you shyly touched his skin, making him sigh in bliss. He'd showered after his encounter with your witch of a mother, yet he couldn't help but not feel clean enough- he needed your touch, your salvation, to finally feel good again, to exorcise the demonic memories of her gut wrenching hands on his back, or her obscene words towards him. He needed your purity to cleanse him again, to give him back his wings you'd granted him.

"They won't hear." He promised, but in reality he wanted them to, craving deep down inside his being to drench the walls in your heavenly sounds, to clean this room of her presence with the help of the pleasure he was giving you. He felt you give into him with ease, smile warm and happy as his fingers entered you, knowing that he could not nestle himself inside you without sacrificing safety. And getting you pregnant was far from his mind.

No, the only thing ever being inside you would be him, and no one else.

You breathed out in sweet euphoria as he worked you with his hand, before dipping down, taking the covers with him as his tongue got in contact with your pearl, mouth feasting on you like a starving man enjoying his first meal, humming in pleasure as your hand found its way into his hair, gently tugging, never hurting.

He highly doubted you could ever hurt a fly.

And you'd never have to, with Jungkook at your side ready to soak his hands in the blood of anyone you wanted to have killed in cold murder, all of it with a smile on his face. He was ready to flood the streets in his own guts just to make more room for your praise and affection inside of him, he'd do it all for you in a time shorter than his heart could ever beat.

Your sighs turned into mewls.

He pushed your legs apart gently, hands reminiscing in the feel of your skin underneath his palms as he put even more effort into his actions, making you squirm in pleasure as your back arched like a feline stretching itself after a well deserved rest as you came undone with his touch, mouth finally parting from you, crawling upwards to your face as he kissed you, uncaring of your own residue on his lips.

You loved him.

He suddenly let out a short moan as he felt your delicate hands touch his bulge, eyes questioning as you silently asked for his permission.

Who was he to deny you anything?

As you pulled him out of his underwear he sighed at the view, your entire body showing off how lost you were with the task you'd taken on, making him smile as he began to help you, placing your hands around him in a proper way and showing you how to please him.

You learned quick.

Slowly growing more confident, you started to grip him with a bit more confidence, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you suddenly dipped down, making his eyes as wide as the moon before he huffed out a breath, head falling back as he could only stare at the white ceiling when your tongue touched his tip. Your soft lips took him in, inviting him inside the warmth of your mouth as you gently sucked before releasing him again, using your saliva and his own precum as lubrication for easier motions.

He was in heaven.

Of course he'd though about it, yet it seemed almost embarrassing how he fell apart so quickly under your touch, cum suddenly spurting out as he came violently, not prepared to last under such circumstances. He caught his breath, smiling apologetically as he stood up on slightly unsteady legs, reaching for some tissues inside his backpack near the bed before crawling back to you, cleaning up your face and neck with the outmost care as you suddenly spoke. "So, was that.. good?" You asked, and he scoffed, kissing you deeply before he rested his forehead against yours.

"Angel, you just sent me to heaven." He said, making you giggle as he made you lie down, cleaning between your thighs as to not make too much of a mess of the sheets.

His cum stained tissues however, he'd leave as a present for the witch to find.

If she was to wake again, that is.

"I'm so sorry, she isn't feeling well-" Your father apologized, yet Jungkook simply waved him off with a sympathizing smile. You nodded next to him, agreeing with Jungkook that this was simply a bad day for her. Everyone got sick once in a while. "I hope you have a safe trip home, and thank you for the wine Jungkook, you really have taste." He said, pale skin showing to him that he'd seemingly been affected as well. "We'll stay in touch." He told Jungkook, hugging him in a friendly manner as a form of goodbye.

He was collateral damage.

He actually liked the man a bit, noticing how calm and collected he was, even though he had to share his life with a woman such as your mother. He admired him really, for spending his time with her every day, for simply coexisting with her, without feeling the need to end his own life.

But maybe this man had exactly those thoughts he wondered, as he though about the wine bottle inside his car, evidence he'd taken with him to discard of in safe distance.

And as you both waved one last time, driving off, Jungkook only had one sentence running around inside his head as he thought of the witch that was your mother.

"This time, please just stay dead."

“I don’t have much space-“ he said, sitting on the engine hood of his car, patting his thighs as an invitation for you. “But it’s gonna be okay. I like having you close anyways.” He mused, voice low and drawled as if exhausted. You sat on his lap, legs hanging off on one side, head leaning on his chest, craving his warmth like a newborn kitten. He snaked his arms around your form, bathing in your presence in pure feelings of bliss as you sighed. He looked down on you, hand running over the top of your head. “What is it angel?” He said, worry a present undertone in his voice. You played with the buttons of his coat as he watched the sun set in front of you both, twilight slowly setting in.

“They.. won’t take me away from you, right?” You asked timidly, unknowing why this option scared you so much. Those were your parents; you shouldn’t be scared of them, should you? Yet Jungkook had told you to be wary of them, and you knew he was to be trusted- when has he ever been wrong? He only wanted your best, just like he said; he only wanted you safe and protected, and it made you feel oh so special. The pure option that you could be forced to live without him now seemed utterly terrifying, like a phobia you didn’t know you had.

“No, no angel.” He said, smile ever so present as if he’d just been gifted the thing he’d always wanted. You seemed so upset with the mere possibility of being away from him, it showed him that you had finally accepted him fully; you finally were his and his alone. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me.” He growled possessively, eyes growing cold as you leaned even closer to him, making him take a deep breath in fondness. “I’d rather die.” He whispered, and your head shot up, delicate hands on his chest, and an absolutely divine and desperate look on your face.

“Then I’ll die with you! You can’t leave me behind-“ you said, wide eyes looking at him in pure horror of the simple mention of his death, and he chuckled, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear with gentle hands, as he answered you lowly.

“Don’t worry angel-“ he said, his hand resting on your cheek, eyes watching you like a piece of art. “I’ll take you with me wherever I go.” He said, leaning in for a kiss you eagerly accepted, uncaring of how his hands gripped your waist tightly. Dangerously. And you were just as uncaring of his next words that left his lips between heated kisses.

“Even if I’d have to kill you myself.” he mumbled into you as you smiled.

You felt like Romeo and Juliet.

Or bonny and clyde for that matter.

The news should've hit you hard, yet it only left you with questions. You by now had your suspicions on what had happened, yet instead of igniting fear, it only left you with more things to wonder about. Why would he do these things?

Was he this scared to loose you that he even killed in his desperation to keep you close?

Would you one day be his victim as well?

"Angel?" He asked, standing behind you as his eyes scanned your form, noticing how you'd stopped packing your stuff, simply sitting in your old bedroom, on the floor, on your knees, in the middle of the room. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Well.. were you?

And if you were-

For how long?

Taglist:

[writingblock101]

Drunk (Jason Todd x Reader)

Word Count: 1,600

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013

Request from @hurricane-anxiety:  Would you mind writing a Jason Todd x reader where jay comes home like super smashed? 👉🏻👈🏻

Based off my drunk dumbass friends.

Jason is out late, spending time with a few friends. You enjoy a quiet night in the apartment by yourself, catching up on a show that Jason hates and eating take out from your favorite restaurant. By the time midnight rolls around, there’s still no sign of Jason coming back to the apartment, so you text him good night and tell him you’ll leave the kitchen light on. He texts back a few minutes later, saying “good nigty babe i live yoi”. 

Chuckling at the gratuitous spelling errors, you plug your phone in and crawl into bed. After thirty minutes of tossing and turning in bed which includes retrieving another blanket since your cuddly space heater isn’t here, you finally fall asleep. 

The sound of the front door to your apartment closing wakes you up. Normally, Jason is silent, but you suppose it was because you were sleeping lighter than normal without him in bed. You groggily open your eyes and glance at the clock on your nightstand: 2:31 AM. Knowing Jason will come into your bedroom in a minute, you roll back over. 

As you begin to drift away again, you hear a cabinet door slam shut followed by a frantic, but whispered: “Shit!” 

Sounds like Jason let a cabinet door slip you explain to yourself, closing your eyes again. Thirty seconds later, you hear a loud bang! Followed by an even louder bang and a shouted: “Fuck!” 

Deciding to see what your usually silent boyfriend is up to, you roll out of bed, only dressed in a pair of underwear and one of his shirts. The kitchen light blinds you for a moment, forcing you to squint. Through your squinting, you find Jason tangled up in one of your bar stools and laying on the ground. 

You blink, your eyes adjusting. 

“Y/N!” Jason exclaims with an easy grin that is quickly replaced with guilt. “Wait, did I wake you up?” 

You raise your eyebrows at Jason. 

“Kinda,” You admit groggily. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, babe.” 

“You uh…” You gesture to the bar stool Jason is tangled in. “You having some problems there?” 

Jason giggles, looking a little sheepish. 

“I went to sit down but then tipped backward.” 

Your eyebrows raise even higher. Jason is almost never this giggly and he’s definitely coordinated enough to sit in the bar stools without tipping them over. A small laugh escapes as you connect the dots. 

A night out with friends. 

Poorly spelled texts. 

Very loud. 

Giggling. 

.

.

.

Jason is drunk.

Watching you laugh seems to make Jason laugh even if he doesn’t know what you’re laughing at. 

“You’re a goof,” You tell him, stepping over to help Jason upright. 

Jason grins, wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your head

“Yeah, but I’m your goof.” 

You smile, helping Jason into a bar stool that’s not on the ground. You run your fingers through his hair, warmth bubbling up in your chest as Jason leans against your hand happily. 

“Yeah, you are.” 

Jason’s grin widens at your words. You kiss the top of his head and walk into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. 

“Fun night?” You ask. 

Jason giggles, his face red. He slouches in the bar stool to lean heavily against the kitchen island. 

“Yeah, it was. I’ve missed Roy.” 

“I bet you have,” You slide the glass across the bar to him. 

“What’s this?” He asks, staring down into the liquid. 

“Water,” You tell him. “You need to drink it.” 

“But I don’t want to drink it.” 

“You’ll wish you drank it in the morning.” 

“But it’s not the morning yet,” Jason astutely points out. 

You glance at the clock on your oven which reads 2:43 AM. 

“Yeah, it is,” You point at the clock with a raised eyebrow. 

“That doesn’t count,” Jason waves his hand. “I haven’t slept yet, so it’s not morning.” 

You laugh, rolling your eyes at Jason’s logic. 

“I will be sure to inform the world that the morning doesn’t start until you wake up.” 

“That’s right,” Jason says proudly with a dopey grin. “See to it that the world knows.” 

“But you should still drink the water.” 

“But I don’t want to drink the water.” 

“Will you please drink the water? For me?” 

Jason looks at you suspiciously. 

“Just one glass,” You barter. 

“Just one?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“One,” You promise. “And I’ll make you a sandwich.” 

His eyes light up. 

“Oh, with tomatoes!” 

“With tomatoes,” You agree, walking over to the fridge. “And the works. But, you have to drink that glass of water first.” 

Jason pouts but takes a few big gulps of the water which satisfies you enough to pull out all the ingredients from the fridge and start making his sandwich. 

“I love you,” He says randomly. 

You look up from cutting a tomato to see Jason leaning on his arm, his eyes fond. 

“I love you too,” You tell him, leaning across the bar on your toes to kiss his nose. 

Jason grins, leaning down to get a proper, but brief kiss from you. As you spread the condiments onto the bread with a knife, Jason clambers down from his chair to round the kitchen island and hug you from behind, leaning heavily against you. He lays his chin on your shoulder, watching you make the sandwich. 

“You’re more than I deserve,” He murmurs against your head. 

You finish putting everything on the sandwich and turn in Jason’s grasp, letting him rest his forehead against yours. 

“What makes you say that?” You ask. 

“Someone who has done as much fucked up shit as I have doesn’t get to be this happy,” He tells you as he kisses you. 

You reach up and cup his face, feeling a few thin scars along his jaw. 

“I think someone who has been through as much as you have deserves to be happy.” 

He grins, kissing you again. 

“Well, you make me ridiculously happy.” 

You smile. 

“I love you,” He softly whispers to you. 

“I love you too,” You respond easily, kissing his head. “Also your sandwich is done, but you have to drink your water first.” 

Jason groans. 

“I don’t need water,” He insists as you slip out of his grip. 

“Yes, you do,” You tell him, pulling him toward the chair. 

He stumbles, walking heavily as he pushes you against the bar again, his hands sliding up your thighs. 

“This my shirt?” He asks, playing with the bottom of it.

“Maybe,” You shrug. 

Jason grins, kissing you again as his hands slide under the shirt. 

“I like it when you wear my clothes.” 

“I know,” You smirk, kissing him back. “Come on, eat your sandwich and drink your water.” 

“But I see something else I’d much rather eat,” Jason growls in your ear, pulling you flush against him. 

You laugh, smacking his chest lightly. 

“Easy there, tiger. You can barely hold yourself up right now.” 

“That’s okay, I don’t need to,” Jason grins, nibbling on your earlobe. “You can just ride me.” 

You roll your eyes, running your hands up his arms as his hands squeeze your sides. 

“I want to go to bed,” You tell him. 

“Funny, I do too,” Jason purrs. 

You put a hand on his chest, pushing him away from your ear. He smiles down at you, resting his forehead against yours as he sways slightly. 

“To sleep,” You clarify. 

“What fun are you?” Jason teases. 

“I’d be a whole lot more fun if it wasn’t 2:30 in the morning,” You snark back, pecking his lips. 

Jason laughs, wrapping his arms around you for a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” He mutters into your hair. 

“You can make it up to me by finishing your water and eating that sandwich I just made you.” 

Jason sighs dramatically. 

“I suppose I can!” He announces loudly then stumbles toward the bar stool, barely missing a collision with the floor.

You snicker, holding the back of the stool to ensure it doesn’t tip again as Jason as he enjoys his sandwich and drinks his water. 

“Next time, I’ll get drunk with you then we can have drunk sex,” You promise as Jason finishes the last of his water. 

“Really?” Jason asks eagerly. 

You roll your eyes at his eagerness. 

“Babe, you act like we didn’t have sex this morning.” 

“But that was so long ago,” Jason whines. 

You laugh, helping Jason out of the chair. 

“You are so dramatic.” 

“I am a man with needs!” Jason exclaims as you walk him back to your bedroom. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Again,” Jason slings his arm around your shoulder, kissing your head. “Your idiot.” 

“Your brother may have been onto something, warning me,” You tease. 

“You know,” Jason admits. “I think Damian is starting to grow on me.” 

“Starting to grow on you?” You shake your head with a sputtering laugh. “He’s been around for six years!”

“He’s not the easiest person to get along with!” 

“And I’m sure your brothers would say the same thing about you,” You tease, kissing Jason’s cheek. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason stumbles, leaning heavily on you for a moment. 

He collapses onto the bed face down, kicking his shoes off. You lean in the doorway, watching him, amused. 

“You comfortable there, Jay?” 

He grumbles something into the pillow. You roll your eyes fondly and help Jason pull off his jeans. 

“Oh, babe, I thought you said no sex?” Jason grins, running his hands up your legs. 

“That still stands,” You tell him. “I don’t want to be woken up by you whining about being uncomfortable because you fell asleep in jeans.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Jason teases, kissing you. 

“Uh-huh, shut up, you dork,” You smile, kissing him back. 

You shut off the lights then crawl into bed with Jason. He immediately pulls you against his chest, burying his face into your hair. 

“Good night,” He mumbles to you. 

You smile fondly against his chest. 

“Good night, Jaybird.” 

Thank you guys for being patient! I will be working through the other requests! I’ve missed y’all

[tngrace]

The Day the World Rocked on its Axis

This is probably the most personal thing I've ever written. There is so much personal background in it, and it felt so good to write even if I hurt Carlos. There may be a part 2 sometime later; still not sure.

Thank you @moviegeek03 for reading this for me and all your encouragement. 💙

Read on A03;

masterlist;

It Started at ACC series

Carlos was halfway through his rookie year on the force when his world was rocked. He and TK were going strong; life was good. He’d just come off a twelve hour shift, TK having gotten home right before him. He was just slipping into that really deep state when his phone started ringing. He was tempted to ignore it, but after one call hung up, it started ringing once more. He groans as he rolls over and grabs it. The name on the screen has him answering quickly. 

“Hola primo. Qué está mal?” ** Carlos asks worriedly. It’s not like his cousin to be calling him in the middle of the night. 

It’s so quiet for the longest Carlos is afraid the call has dropped. “Carlos, it’s Tonio.” 

Carlos sits straight up so fast it rouses TK. Carlos sucks in a breath before asking what’s wrong once more. TK can hear the panic in his voice which wakes him even more. He sits up beside Carlos and lets his hand drift to Carlos’s back to rub soothingly. 

“There…. There’s been a wreck. We… we need you.” 

“Where?” Miguel went quiet on him once more, and Carlos could feel the panic coursing through him. “Miguel where? Tell me where and I’ll be there.” 

“They’re going to take him to St. David’s South. They… they gotta get to them and get them out,” he manages to get out. 

“What do you mean?” Carlos questions gently as he gets up and starts dressing in the first thing he sees. 

“They… they were riding up around Pilot Knob. One of his friends called me. He got in the car with someone else, someone he didn’t know that well, but wanted to see what the car could do. The guy lost control, went off the road, hit a tree head on. You know how hard it is to get up there. They were towards the top, but they’re saying it’s bad, Carlitos.” 

“Ok. Ok i’m on my way. If they get him out before I get there, I'll meet you at the hospital. It’s going to be ok.”  

Carlos grabbed his badge just to be safe as he finishes dressing and gets off the phone with his cousin. He turns to tell TK what’s going on, but he finds his boyfriend already dressed and standing beside him. Carlos does his best not to cry right then. “Come on,” TK says gently, seeing Carlos try to hold back his emotions. Carlos squeezes TK’s hand as they lock up and get in the camaro. Carlos drives, just because he knows where he’s going. He’s speeding and he knows it, but he can’t help it. Miguel and Antonio were the closest thing he had to brothers all his life. They’ve always been close, always shared everything. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if one of them is gone. TK holds his hand the entire drive to the mountain; he wants to ask questions, wants to help, but he stays silent knowing Carlos will tell him when he’s ready. 

“That was my cousin Miguel on the phone,” he finally says when they’re about halfway there. “His younger brother Antonio was in a wreck. They… they’ve always been like my brothers. They’re my best friends,” he chokes off. TK squeezes his hand harder. 

“I’m here. Whatever you need,” TK tells him when Carlos can’t go on. Carlos squeezes back as he keeps driving. They head up the mountain, and they’re not far behind an ambulance. They’re stopped about halfway up the mountain and told the road is closed. Carlos flashes his badge and tells the officer it’s his family. “I’m sorry sir. I’m gonna advise y’all head back down.” The look in his eyes, TK knows; it’s not going to be good. 

“I’d rather not. I’d like to get to my family,” Carlos demands; the officer relents and lets them through. Carlos gets the car in park, and jumps out faster than TK can stop him. He rushes to his aunt and uncle and cousin’s side. EMTs are down the side of the mountain working, and Carlos is holding his breath. TK slowly joins his side, offering his support. They’re close enough to other officer’s to hear the call over the radio that it’s a recovery op now. TK feels Carlos go rigid beside him. “Carlos?” he whispers, but Carlos doesn’t respond. His body is taunt with anxiety as he turns to his family before another officer can deliver the news. “Tia, Tio….” his aunt and uncle look at him with wide eyes as he takes a deep breath to keep it together. “Come on,” he says as gently as possible trying to steer them back towards their cars. 

Miguel looks at Carlos with tear-filled eyes, and Carlos just gives him a nod. The most devastated no he’s ever heard leaves his cousin's lips as he tries to break for the side of the hill where the rescue team is working. Carlos reacts on instinct; he reaches out and grabs Miguel, wrapping him up in his arms and holding him tight. He talks to him in Spanish as TK is left to keep Carlos’s aunt and uncle back. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs to them as Carlos does his best to comfort Miguel. It takes a while, but Carlos is eventually able to steer Miguel away from the hillside. He guides him and his aunt and uncle to their truck. He gives TK the keys to the camaro; “Follow us?” he asks him softly as Miguel helps his distraught parents into the truck. 

“Of course,” TK promises, giving Carlos a soft kiss and a tight hug. 

Carlos gets in the truck on autopilot; he heads for the hospital knowing they’ll take Antonio there regardless. The only sound in the truck the whole way is the cries of his aunt. They end up staying at the hospital until the morning; they finally got official confirmation of death about seven am, and Carlos had to dissuade his aunt and uncle from seeing his cousin. He knew they wanted to, hell he wanted, but he knew now was not the time, not fresh from the wreck. Carlos drives them back to the ranch to his own parents. The rest of the family shows up before lunch; tears are shed, hugs are given, stories are told quietly, and the whole time Carlos is stoic, emotions carefully concealed. TK stays with him the whole time, refusing to leave. Carlos appreciates it more than he can express. 

The next few days are hard. There’s arrangements to be made, most of the family takes up residence at the ranch, his aunt and uncle staying with his parents. Miguel needs him more than anything, and Carlos does his best to be there every minute for him. He holds himself together every day, and at night when TK is asleep, he lets a few silent tears fall until he gets a few restless hours of sleep. 

He calls in a favor to his training officer the day they make arrangements after seeing Antonio at the funeral home. He knows the news has gotten out that he’s taken personal days for the funeral, but he has to know what the accident report says after hearing all the funeral home completed for an open casket service. Luckily his TO is a friend of his dad’s, and despite advising Carlos against reading it, he sends the full unedited accident report to Carlos’s email. The day before the funeral, TK had to work so he could be off for the funeral, and Carlos waits until then to open the email. Carlos promised him that he would be fine, and TK made him promise to call if he wasn’t. Carlos of course didn’t call, but TK wasn’t surprised. He reads over the report more times than he should’ve. The accompanying pictures are the hardest thing he’s ever looked at, but they tell the story more than the report. The images are ingrained in his brain, and he knows his aunt and uncle will have the option to receive copies of all this. He wants to do his best to dissuade them from getting it. No one should have to see the gruesome scene he just studied; the car in the tree, the way the seats were displaced one on top of the other, the blood splatter and the lifeless bodies encased within. It was too much, but he had to know.  

TK didn’t know Carlos had requested the report or that he’d even looked at it. So he was surprised to get home that night and find Carlos curled up in the corner of the shower sobbing. “Oh babe.” It came out almost as a whine, his pain for Carlos evident. He dropped his bag, kicking off his shoes, and climbing straight into the shower with Carlos. He sank to the ground pulling Carlos into his arms. “It’s ok. I’ve got you. You’re safe,” he whispers over and over, rocking side to side as he cradled Carlos to him. It took several minutes and several stuttering hiccuping breaths before Carlos started to calm down. TK had no idea how long he’d been like that before he got home, but the water was still mostly warm so he figured it couldn’t have been too long.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos whispered as he pulled back and scrubbed at his face. 

“No. No. You have nothing to apologize for. You needed this.” TK lets his hand card through Carlos’s wet curls. “You’ve been so strong for everyone else. You need to let yourself grieve too.” 

Carlos gives him a short nod as he scrubs harder at his face. He knows TK is right, but he also hates that TK has to see him like this. “Hey. It’s ok to hurt and feel what you’re feeling. It’s ok to let me see that too. I’m here for you. I love you and nothing is going to change that,” TK reiterates as he pulls Carlos’s hands away from his face. He pulls Carlos close once more as Carlos loses it again. He can’t seem to stop the tears. He’s not sure how life is supposed to go on without one of his best friends, without the first person he came out to, without one of the few people who support him no matter what. TK barely holds back his own tears as Carlos sobs his heart out in his arms. 

When the water turns cold, TK eases Carlos up and helps him out of the shower. His tears have dried, but he’s clinging to TK like he’s the only thing holding him up. TK gets a towel around him as he strips his wet clothes before wrapping a towel around himself. “Come on. I got ya,” TK says quietly as he dries Carlos off before leading him to bed. He gets him tucked in before drying himself. Once he makes sure the house is all locked up, he climbs in bed pulling Carlos in as close as possible. 

Carlos has worn himself out, but before he falls asleep he whispers; “I read the report. I requested it and got it. I just… I had to know.”  

“Oh babe,” TK whimpers as he tightens his hold on Carlos. “Oh Carlos. It’s ok,” TK whispers over and over not really knowing what to say to that. He knows that had to be hard; he knows Carlos probably shouldn’t have seen it, but he knows if he’d been in Carlos’s shoes, he’d want to know too. It’s not long after that little confession that Carlos drifts off from exhaustion. TK is thankful he took tomorrow off to go with him; he knows the coming days, months, years even are going to be hard, but he will be there for it all. Whatever Carlos needs, TK is going to be there. 

 

** “Hello cousin. What is wrong?”

[nowoyas]

Bunny Eyes

A/N: I JUST WANTED TO WRITE BUNNYZUKU GETTING DISAPPOINTED AND BEING CUTE HOW DID THIS HAPPEN BUT Y’ALL WANTED THE SICKFIC SO HERE’S THE SICKFIC

Summary: Saying 'no' to your boyfriend is hard enough, does he have to make you feel so guilty when you’re already sick? (bunny!Izuku x sick!reader, fluff)

Warnings: uh none, the reader has the flu and has flu symptoms but I didn’t go into like, gross descriptions

Word count: 2600+ (HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT AND SWEET)

~

Your boyfriend might be just a little bit evil.

Not in the traditional sense, no, Izuku's too pure and kind and good for this world. Reckless, selfless, and all around perfect.

But he's evil and he knows if he just looks at you just right, you won't be able to say no.

Currently, you're bed-bound from a nasty flu that's been making you feel absolutely miserable. When you're not asleep, the farthest you've been able to go is being miserable on your balcony in the fresh air (usually at night, since this damn flu has absolutely slam dunked your sleep schedule) or sneaking on to your computer to game, exhaustion and dizziness and all manner of symptoms making even sitting up for too long a chore. 

You have to thank whatever powers are out there for Izuku's loving hand in your recovery. You don't trust yourself to make it all the way downstairs to the kitchen from your fourth-floor dorm room, and without even asking, he's stopped by every morning and afternoon since you got sick to bring you food, including a few simple pre-packed things to choke down for lunch and extra bottles of water. Not that you've been particularly hungry, but on the rare occasion you feel well enough to choke something down, thanks to him, you've actually been able to.

He's constantly been worried over you, since even before you started dating in your first year, but the flu picking you up and effortlessly slamming you through the floor certainly hasn't helped that. Still, he's so sweet, and by this point (day 5 since you got sick, but who’s counting?) he's basically the only sunshine you're getting. You're sure if your bunny-eared boyfriend didn't have class to go to (and Aizawa was adamant that he still attend class), he'd be at your side every moment, fussing over you and making sure you eat, stay hydrated, and take your medicine. 

Unluckily for you (or perhaps luckily—your medicine tastes utterly vile and isn't helping your stomach settle any more), he's had class every day since you got sick, and he can't afford to fall behind even if he's apparently spending most of his time in class worrying over how you're doing alone in your dorm.

Whether him being at class every day is lucky or unlucky, the opposite is true for today. (Or is it tomorrow? What time is it again?) It's the weekend, meaning he's got no other obligations to deal with, so you can and do expect him to want to spend every moment doting and fussing and using those damn eyes to get you to relent and take your disgusting medicine.

On one hand, score, cute boy acting as your nurse. On the other hand, if he spends all day in your room tending to your sick-people needs, he's gonna get sick, and it'll be an utter nightmare trying to get him to take his medicine and actually rest. God knows he'll be trying to sneak in studying when you're not keeping an eye on him. You'll probably have to confiscate his weights so he doesn't try to work out while he's still sick. (Not that you aren't almost just as bad, but at least you're not a rabbit with godlike ability in terms of sheer power and speed to make it harder to deal with.)

As much as you'd adore having his presence with you to make you go from miserable to "miserable but also very aware of how in love you are and being forced to take gross meds" (which kinda cancels itself out), you don't want him getting sick or wasting his whole day on you. Also, you get the feeling he's probably smart enough to figure out that you haven't been resting as much as you say you have. For now, at least, you're sat on your balcony, leaned up against the railing lightly to get some fresh air. And that's where you fall asleep, exhaustion hitting you like so many trucks.

~

When you wake up, you're being cradled against Izuku's chest and carried to your bed. You shiver, feeling both heat and cold overtake you, and tears prick at your eyes as you realize your fever has almost definitely come back in full force. Izuku pulls back your covers and lays you down, not noticing you're awake until he moves to drape the blanket back over your body. His rabbit ears stand at full attention, his face lighting up just a moment before a playfully chiding look comes on his face.

"You shouldn't be sleeping outside like that, love, you'll get even more sick. And based on how hot you felt when I picked you up, you did." He places his hands on his hips, frowning even as you note the sparkle of affection in his eyes. You're not sure he's even capable of getting actually mad at you.

"Sorry," you mumble, bringing the covers up to hide your face and how utterly awful you look before deciding almost immediately that you're going to overheat under these covers. You writhe about just enough to kick them off, already feeling sweat form on your skin. "The air felt really nice."

You end up throwing a pillow over your face so at least the worst part of you is hidden, hugging it close when Izuku laughs and tries to move it away. "I brought breakfast, please quit hiding so you can eat?"

"But I look like shit," you whine into the pillow. "I don't even have the energy to get downstairs. I had to wash my hair in my bathroom sink."

Warm hands find their way to your wrists, gently prying your hands and the pillow away so you can meet his adoring gaze. If you weren't already flushed from fever, you'd probably have the energy for a blush to find its way to your face. "You're perfect, starshine," he says softly, causing your heart to stutter and your body to instantly melt. His library of pet names never ceases to pull you further into love.

Before you can find some response, he crosses the room to your desk, where he apparently set his Nurse Deku Kit™ so he could carry you back inside. You shift a bit to lean up against your wall, watching in amusement as the giant cotton ball he calls a tail twitches a little bit. You hope, idly, that he doesn't notice that your computer's only in sleep mo—

He bumps the mouse by accident, and the screen lights up immediately, showing your games library with a very obvious "recently played" list. Busted.

He lets out a little sigh as he turns back to you with a thermometer in hand. "Princess..." 

You try hard not to look like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and smile innocently at him as he approaches. He sits on the side of your bed, and you tilt your head. "Something wrong?"

He holds out the thermometer, and you obediently let him stick it underneath your tongue, knowing he won't let you out of having your temperature taken. "Have you been resting?" 

You nod. He hums, clearly not believing you. "Are you feeling up to eating anything?"

Your nose scrunches up, your stomach turning at the thought. "Ughf," you force out around the thermometer. 

Izuku frowns, ruffling your hair as the thermometer beeps. He takes it from you, and his nose twitches as he reads the number. You'd fawn over how adorable it is if not for the look of worry that crosses his features. "Your fever's back, starshine. I really need you to rest more for me, okay?"

Not that you're planning on arguing, but it's really hard to have the will to when his ears drop down and he gives you a look like you just kicked a puppy. You nod, and he perks up just a bit, placing a new water bottle on your nightstand and reaching for a box of crackers. "I know you're not feeling up to eating, but can you do me a favor and eat just one cracker?"

You compromise with half a cracker before your body threatens to revolt for your hubris. You pause, forcing yourself to swallow it, and chase it with a bit of water. With Izuku's coaxing words and a minor break, you manage to choke down the rest without getting even sicker, and he gives you a strained smile that still manages to light up the room.

He leans forward, and you sense his intentions, narrowing your eyes and putting a hand up in front of his lips. "No."

Izuku lets out a disgruntled noise that's a mix between a grunt and a whine when his lips meet your fingers. "Baby," he whines out.

"No!" you insist. "You'll get sick, 'Zuku."

"But I miss you," he says as his ears fall all the way back, his eyes reminding you of one of those adoption commercials with all the sad animals that make you cry every time. "Please, starshine?"

Shit. You're already desperately trying to bring your resolve back. You swear he's figured out exactly how to get you to do what he wants, but you won't falter this time! "No kisses. I shouldn't even be letting you stay in the room to take care of me."

As if the bunny eyes and the oh-so-adorably-expressive ears weren't enough, he wiggles closer to you, taking your hand in both of his and running his thumb over it. "I got my flu shot, I'll be fine! I promise!" He pauses, pouting a bit. You can't tell if it's him thinking or another way to express how disappointed he is. "Please baby? Honey? Sweetheart? Starshine? Princess? Rosebud? Light of my life?"

"Nooo," you press with a giggle as he continues running through every possible pet name he can in a playfully pleading tone. "I know you got your flu shot, but so did I, and here I am."

"Still..." He keeps those damn green eyes (that's the official name for that shade, damn green) locked on yours sadly, and the guilt spikes in your stomach. "Just one?"

And like that, your resolve crumbles. "You're evil, you know that?" you mumble, tearing your eyes away. They dart back just in time to see his whole being light up, rabbit ears effortlessly perking up from their previous saddened position. "Using such a dirty trick. You get one."

You'd continue berating him for the crime of using his adorable face to get what he wants, but he immediately takes your face in his hands and begins showering your face with kisses–your cheeks, your nose, your forehead–everywhere except your lips, which he saves for last, a slow, sweet, chaste kiss that leaves you melting.

"Izuku..." you whine as he pulls away. "I said one."

He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. "Sorry, starshine. I couldn't help myself."

Your playful ire melts at the way his eyes flutter shut in contentment, small smiles on both of your lips. He surely knows by now that it's impossible for you to say no, not when he's this damn cute. 

A giggle surges out of you, followed by a coughing fit that you desperately cover in your elbow. When you catch your breath, you smirk at him, eyes sparkling. "If you get sick because of this, I'm confiscating your weights so you can't try to train."

"Alright, alright, I get it. You haven't taken your medicine yet today, right?" You wince, turning your head away preemptively. "'Zu-kun..." you whine.

"[name]..." His tone is gently chiding as he prepares the medicine, unscrewing the cap with one hand and gently placing the other under your cheek and pushing you back to face him. "You're not gonna get better if you keep trying to skip your medicine and sneak onto the computer instead of resting."

"But if I take the medicine, I might throw up the cracker, and it was so hard to eat just the one..." You give him your best puppy eyes, but he only smiles fondly and shakes his head, continuing to measure out your dose.

“You'll get all the cuddles when you're better if you take your medicine like you're supposed to," he promises.

You pout, but when he extends the dose cup filled with liquid distaste, you begrudgingly take it, downing it like the least pleasant shot you've ever had in your life. You gag on the swallow, but you down every drop, pouting at Izuku when it's all down. "Happy?"

"Very. You did a good job, princess." He ruffles your hair, and you really wish you could muster the energy to be flustered at the praise like you normally would, but honestly, you already feel yourself kind of drifting back off. Determined, you shoot him a smile and try to distract yourself from sleepiness.

"I know it's a weekend, but if I stay in bed and promise to get rest, can I get away with asking to see your notes from class?" You plead, giving him your best puppy-eyed look.

"I don't know, you haven't shown me a very good track record of actually resting," he says teasingly, not yet having looked at you as he rifles through his little kit for something else.

"'Zu-kun," you whine, stifling a yawn. "I don't wanna go to sleep yet. Please?"

Izuku disappears into your bathroom for a moment, followed shortly by the sound of running water, and when he emerges to see your pleading look, you can see his own resolve crumble.

Two can play at his little pleading game.

He smooths a hand over your forehead to move your hair out of the way, laying a blue towel over your sweat-slicked forehead that's cold, far too cold—

You let out a whine as you shiver. "How is it even that cold?" You mumble, shifting into your blankets more in an attempt to balance the heat.

"Oh, it's one of those exercise towels," he explains. "They're made so they get really cold when they're wet. I want to try to bring your temperature down, but if it's way too cold, I can get a regular towel instead–"

You shake your head. The cold does feel soothing, underneath all the cold cold cold so cold making you shiver. "Notes?" you remind him.

He leans forward and presses a quick peck to the towel in your forehead before you can stop him. "I love you, [name], but it can wait until you're feeling better."

"So can kisses," you retort, swatting at him lightly. "I don't wanna be useless the whole time I'm sick, so—" You break off into a yawn. "—so please let me study a bit?"

"Try to eat half of one more cracker before you fall asleep and I might consider it when you wake up," he says with a teasing grin. You pout and hold out your hand for him to place the broken cracker in. 

"I hate having crumbs in my bed," you mutter, nibbling away at the cracker. You barely manage to eat the half you were given, your body protesting your attempts to actually eat and keep something down all the while, but you do manage it.

Izuku's fingers entwine with your own, a fond smile on his face as you feel yourself nodding off. "[Name]?"

"Mm?"

"I love you. Get better soon, okay?"

"Love you too," you reply sleepily, another yawn wracking your body. "Sorry. I wanted to stay up and... talk with you... but..."

A hand finds its way into your hair to play with it as your eyes drift shut. "It's okay," he says adoringly, "We'll talk later. Get some rest, princess."

[markosmate]

heather

pairing; david x reader

summary; after meeting the boys, david knows the perfect way to make you jealous without even realizing he’s doing so. 

warnings; strong language, stalking (sorta), almost abduction in the beginning

au:// hiiii, so a lot of people have been asking about a part 2 for Baby Blues (thank y’all so much for all the support btw i didn’t expect that many people to read it <33) and i am working on a part 2 currently so expect that to be out soon! but for now here’s a david one that i’ve been working on for the past couple of days :)

The first time you met the boys, you had been absolutely captivated by David. It was like he demanded all attention be on him as soon as he made his way into a room, and you had fallen right into his trap. Despite the immediate infatuation you had of him, you distanced yourself. You weren’t stupid, you knew about those four boys - they were bad news, they weren’t good people to spend your free time with.

The second time you ran into the boys, his eyes met yours almost as soon as you were within distance of them. His lips pulled into a jagged smirk as he moved to make his way towards you. As soon as you realized what was happening, you quickly turned and busied yourself with searching through the shelves of jewelry set up at a small outside stand.

You would have never known he was standing behind you if he hadn't spoken directly into your ear.

"It’s a scam, you know."

You jumped slightly, and whirled on your heels to face him. You squinted your eyes at him, putting on a much more confident persona than you were used to. "What is?"

"The prices for the jewelry. They just buy them and sell them here for double the price. If you want a piercing my friend will be happy to do it for you."

"Oh yeah? They any good?" You challenged, following after him as he once again began walking - this time making his way back towards the line of bikes. His friends were no longer lingering there, they must have wandered off shortly after parking their vehicles.

"She’s done most of our piercings, she also makes necklaces and bracelets so - she has whatever you want." He grinned back at you over his shoulder. You could almost immediately tell who he was talking about. A girl around his age, who always rode on and off the boardwalk with the gang but separated from them almost immediately after the bikes were stopped. Her wrists were lined with gorgeous, dainty bracelets and she must have had at least three piercings in each ear. "Wanna go for a ride?" He looked you straight in the eye as he leaned back against the railing separating the wood of the raised walkway from the beach sand.

"Oh I'd better not." You declined almost immediately. It wasn’t exactly in your best interest to leave with one of the most feared men in town - especially in a place like santa carla. "I have to meet back up with my friends in the parking lot soon, maybe another time though." You spoke quickly, feeling your confident facade begin to waver the longer his cold eyes burned holes into your own.

You waved quickly before turning and practically bolting towards the other end of the boardwalk. You had told him a blatant lie that you were sure he had seen straight through - you had no friends waiting for you in the parking lot. You were just hoping to make it home before running into any other sketchy people.

The third time you ran into the boys, you quite literally ran into them. There had been a man following you consistently on the boardwalk the entire night. It wasn’t until mostly everyone had cleared off the boardwalk, and you were leaving your work, that he really decided to come after you.

When walking out of the small shop after closing up for your boss for the night, he had been leaning against the wall next to the door. "Hey doll, looking for a good time?"

"Oh, uh, no thanks. Not tonight." You tried to turn him down gently and immediately after turned to continue making your way to the parking lot. You didn’t even make it a couple feet before the man tightly grabbed your wrist and whipped you back around.

"No, come on babe. I insist." He gritted out trying to pull you along with him. You tried to think quickly in your panic, frantically looking around to find a way out of your situation. You tried kicking at his legs and scratching at his fingers but it did little to deter the man from what he was set on doing.

In one last desperate attempt, you brought your leg back and stomped on the back of his knee as hard as you possibly could. His leg buckled and he let his grip slip from your wrist in surprise. You took the opportunity given to you and ripped yourself out of his wavering grip, turning and running as fast as you could towards the beach desperately hoping there was a bonfire going on.

What you got instead, was much better. The four punks of the boardwalk were walking along the shoreline, their eyes lingering on each bonfire they passed. You took your chances and ran towards the platinum blond. He had tried to get you to leave with him not even three weeks ago, and even if the chances were dangerously slim - you begged to whatever higher power there was that the four would help get the creep running after you off your back.

You almost body-slammed into the lanky blond before frantically grabbing on to the platinum's arm. He turned around quickly enough to startle you but you were far too nervous to let it alter your decision.

"Hi, hi- um, I’m so sorry but could you please help me?" His eery smirk was replaced by a frown of utter confusion - eyebrows furrowing and icy blues traveling over your form to check for any injuries that you could possibly need help with. You turned to point out the creep standing at the top of the stairs who seemed to be scanning the beach for where you had run off to. "That man, he just tried to- I don’t even know what he was trying to do but he grabbed me and was trying to bring me somewhere after I declined his request to hang out and I don’t know, could you just-" You rambled, cutting yourself off however when the creep's eyes locked with your own.

His gaze immediately hardened as he jumped down the remaining stairs and jogged over to where you stood.

Once he stood within distance, he ignored the other four's presence and grabbed your wrist once more. "There you are babe, I thought I lost you for a second. Come on." He tried to drag you after him once more when you began to pull at his grip again.

"No, would you stop asshole? I don’t know you." You growled, but your words were ignored as you continued to be pulled back towards the stairs. You dug your heels into the sand and slowly your body came to a stop even as he continued to try and pull you behind him.

His attempts were proven useless as the platinum finally spoke up, grabbing onto your elbow to prevent you from being pulled any further. "Excuse me, the young lady said she doesn’t know you. I think it’s in your best interest to get lost bud." The other three teens moved to stand behind you, shoulders squared and chins raised to make themselves seem as intimidating as possible.

'With the way they rule the boardwalk I don’t think mire intimidation is entirely necessary.' The idea flashed across your mind and the creep seemed to have the same thought as he quite literally looked like he was about to shit his pants as he immediately ducked his head and took off back towards the parking lot.

"You alright?" Platinum grumbled, letting go of your elbow to light the cigarette in between his lips.

"Yeah, yeah. I’m good." You whispered, trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince him. "Just startled me is all." You whipped your palms on the legs of your pants, trying to calm your nerves even though they were going completely haywire in the presence of the boys.

"Name's Paul, dudette. And you are?" The lanky blond bubbled out, holding out his hand for a shake.

You smiled at his antics and reached out to shake his hand in your own. "I’m y/n." You answered, trying not to blush when you noticed platinum's eyes raking up and down your form. "Thank y'all so much for getting that dude off my back, he’s been freaking me out all night."

"Well, you won’t have to worry about him anymore." Platinum spoke, an underlying promise in his words that you weren’t able to pick up on. "David."

"Dwayne."

"I’m Marko babe, nice to meet you." A cheshire grin was sent your way as the other two of the group introduced themselves after David.

"Well thank you, once again. It means a lot." You smiled sweetly at each of them before beginning to turn on your heel. "I'd better get going, I’ll see y'all around."

You were stopped by David who reached out to wrap an arm around your should and hold you in place. "Do ya have to run off so soon? Hang out with us for a while doll."

And with little convincing, you agreed to spend the rest of the night with them. Before you knew it, weeks passed quickly. You had become quite the new asset to their tiny group and spent almost every night with them after getting off of work. You’d gotten closer with the four of them than you’d ever been with anyone in your entire life, it almost felt like fate that you had gotten twisted up with them.

Every night felt like a party, and you had never felt more happy than when you were with them. Paul had left the truth about what they were slip one night while high and immediately after had sobered up and stared at you with wide eyes.

You had been suspicious of them for awhile before the truth came out - coming to realize that they only came to the boardwalk strictly after the sun had set and had dodged all your attempts at making plans with them during the daytime. The most striking coincidence you've come to realize is that anytime anyone gave you or the boys a hard time, their face would wind up on a missing persons flyer the next day.

"What do you mean you already knew?" Marko had gaped at you after you shrugged off the confession.

"Well I didn’t know exactly what you were, I just knew something was up. Y’all aren’t the best at hiding it." You had grinned back at the four of them.

"Well, at least she didn’t flip the hell out and faint." Dwayne joked, and you all continued on with the night as if it had never happened.

The longer you hung around with the boys, the more the platinum leader continuously swept you off your feet. You didn’t want to admit it, too stubborn to accept the fact that you had feelings for someone like him who had girls throwing themselves at him every minute of every day.

Not to say the latter didn’t annoy you, because you could practically feel yourself smoking at the ears everytime he would leave with a girl.

'Sure,' You tried to convince yourself. 'He didn’t actually have feelings for them or anything, they were just meals.' But that never seemed to help the small pang in your chest each time it happened.

One night, you were feeling especially upset about the whole situation. He had a beach bunny tucked into his side the entire night, and the fact she was the exact opposite of you hurt the most.

Halfway through the night and you had already gotten completely agitated with the entire situation. The group had come up with the idea to go find a bonfire to find some other people to hangout with. You knew this was a ploy to get the girl and a group of easy targets alone for them to feast on, so you took it upon yourself and uninvited yourself from the plans.

The boys picked up on your sour mood as soon as you stood up to gather your things early. "Hey where you going?" Marko spoke up through a mouthful of fries. "We weren’t planning on going for another half hour."

"Yeah well I think I’m just gonna head back. I’ll see you guys later on, maybe." You spoke short and within a certain finality to your tone, letting them know that all you wanted at that moment was to lounge around the cave on your lonesome.

Each of the boys bid you a farewell, except for the one and only reason for your attitude. The leather clad vampire only spared you an eye-roll before turning his attention back to the chick clinging onto his side.

You made quite the show of rolling your eyes back at him before turning on the ball of your foot and walking out of the restaurant. Hours passed at the cave and you probably switched around to doing different things at least a dozen times. At one point you put on one of Dwayne's leather jackets and waddled around the main area, pretending to be tough and serious. Most things only managed to keep you entertained for a half hour at best and in the end you settled for spreading out across the couch, drumming your fingers against your thighs to the beat of the songs playing through the radio speakers.

It honestly felt like you had been waiting for days when your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle engine outside the cave. There were no shouts or yells of excitement however, and there only seemed to be one engine roaring. After a few seconds the noise was cut off and footsteps padded against the rickety stairs leading down to the opening of the cave.

You looked over to see David's boots come into view as he stepped down the fallen rocks leading into the main room. He stopped at the bottom of the rocks and his eyes locked on yours. "We’ve gotta talk."

"I don’t want to talk to you right now." You immediately refused, turning on your side to face the back of the couch and hopefully pretend to be trying to fall asleep. He jumped down from the platform and landed with a small thump, making his way over to where the radio sat and turning down the volume until the only noise in the cave was your breathing and the occasional flutter of wings from one of Marko's pigeons.

"Why did you storm off?"

"I was tired and had a headache."

"You know what I think?" You didn’t reply. He grabbed your legs and twisted you around to face him. He leaned forward until his hand was pressed against the back of the sofa, caging you in with his eyes locked onto yours. "I think you’re lying."

"Oh, do you?" You mocked, attempting to push him away and kick his hand away from your shin. You knew you were playing with fire. You had no real reason to be angry with him, he didn’t know about your feelings and he wasn’t required to like you back. But that didn’t stop you from being a little bitter about the whole thing.

"I don’t know what your problem is, but I think you need to chill out. I can’t help if you won’t talk to me normally." He was acting surprisingly calm, and you were sure that if anyone else had been around while you were giving him this attitude he would be completely tearing into you with just as much bitterness.

"My problem?" You cried. "What’s your problem?"

"My problem?" He echoed right back to you. "What in the fuck are you going on about?"

"At this point you must know I like you! And yet you walk around with some broad clung to your side every night and pay no mind to me until we’re back at the cave! It’s like you completely ignore my presence when you’re with someone else."

His face fell flat, and he stared into your eyes with blank pupils, no emotion shining through the blue. "I’m sorry, back up."

You stared right back at him, a hint of regret beginning to build in your bones. Maybe you shouldn’t have confessed to him, maybe he'd laugh in your face and never speak to you again. Or worse - maybe he'd tell the boys and they'd all laugh in your face and then never talk to you again.

"You like me? And I, was supposed to know that?" His eyebrow raised into a tilt as he laughed. "You've never showed any interest - how was I supposed to pick up on that?"

You grew flustered, twiddling your fingers on your lap. "I don’t know... mind reading?"

He laughed, a genuine one. Not his usual mocking one he used when he was playing with victims or teasing one of the boys. "I don’t usually use that trick, babe. You should’ve just said something."

"Why? So you could laugh it off?" You bit back, leaning back on the couch with a pout forming on your lips. He grinned, moving to sit next to you on the sofa and reaching out to grab at your waist and pull you into his side.

"No, so I could tell you that you threw a fit and stormed off for no reason." He smirked cockily at you before swooping in to capture you lips in a sultry kiss. You literally felt yourself lose your breath as you leaned into him, reaching up to cup the sides of his neck and hold him as close to you as possible.

When you both pulled away you gasped air into your lungs as you locked your own eyes with his. "I was being kind of dramatic, huh?"

His smirk returned to his lips as he stood, wrapping his fingers around your wrist to pull you after him. "Dramatic is a little of an understatement kitten."

He moved to sit on his wheelchair, pulling you along to sit on his lap. His arms immediately made their way around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Talk it out next time?" You suggested, turning your head to smile at him as you heard the other three pull up outside the cave with a few whoops and cheers.

"Sounds good to me." He agreed, reaching to take out a cigarette.

[wincestisasincest]

She Moves Me (John Lennon x Reader)

So I actually wrote this a while but forgot to post it. Kinda cheesy but oops. 

What-up, y’all. I’m angry. And I just realized that I see a lot of fics where John comforts the reader when they are sad/lonely or stuff like that, but there really aren’t a lot of fics where he comforts the reader when they’re angry. 

I am here to remedy that. 

(Btw if you want to listen to the songs they’re all Muddy Waters, individually called “Just Make Love to Me,” “Mannish Boy,” and “She Moves Me.” 

Description: You are big angry and John, resident constant aggro, actually has a useful solution. 

Words: 1,599

Pairings: John Lennon x reader

Warnings: Umm nothing bad but the lyrics to the songs tend to be a little bit racy. Oh and also swearing

You slammed the door behind you and slumped down against it. You could feel your face beginning to flush and your fists balling. 

Your chest was rising. 

You didn’t want John to see you like this. Sure, you wanted comfort, but you also wanted privacy. And worse, you were a girl. John thought that you were cute when you were angry, with your face contorted into some fiery expression like you were about to give someone hell, despite the fact that you normally couldn’t hurt a fly.

But right now you didn’t wanna be cute. You wanted to be angry.

“Tryna break the door, are ye?” John’s voice called from the kitchen you shared. He was probably pensively reading a book and sipping tea with his thick, blocky glasses on, as he usually was when you came home from work. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m about to go out.” It took all of your effort not to snap at him. You didn’t have time for banter. You didn’t want to see anyone. 

But it was too late. He could hear it in your voice. 

You unloaded your bag on the counter. Really, you didn’t even know why you had bothered coming home. You wanted to go out. And maybe kick something. 

“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” He was lingering in the doorway now, watching you holding yourself back from throwing a tantrum. 

His expression was a characteristic smile. You didn’t need to look, you just knew it was there. You were afraid to look up and ruin it. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“You said that in a snappy voice.”

“It’s not you,” you were still looking at your feet, “It’s just been a fuckin’ long day.” You released a deep breath, which slowly turned into a sigh. 

“Shit. Must’ve been.” The floorboards creaked, and you could tell that he was moving closer to you. 

“I just,” you staggered back a little bit, “it takes absolutely nothing to not be an asshole! Nothing at all! And that’s just so hard to get for some people.” 

“Dare I ask what happened?” 

You finally managed a look up. Your matted hair was falling in your face, and it gave you an almost terrifying appearance. John seemed even a little bit taken aback. You never had a particularly threatening appearance, but damn if you didn’t get very close there. 

He returned to the smile again.

“Don’t say it.” You muttered.

“Say what?” He asked coyly.

“You know damn well.”

“I can’t help it. If you already look cute all the time, it’s only natural that you look cute when you’re angry.” He crossed his arms. 

“Goddamnit, John.” Your face spread into a small smile, but you were still absolutely flushed with red. 

There was a small silence as you brushed your hair back into place. Your fists were still balled. You still wanted to punch something. Maybe John could join you. He was good at getting into fights. 

You gave him a side glance. 

“Wanna go start a fight?” 

“What?!” He chortled. He was grinning, but still caught off guard. 

“I need to punch something.” 

“Temper, temper. What would your mother say?” He tutted and sat on the arm of the couch.

You wanted to say something back, but you were still fuming. You hated it when he condescended to you, though you knew he meant nothing by it. He was trying to cheer you up. 

You breathed in stiffly, still having no reply. You could feel your eyes beginning to water. You felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum. 

“Hold on, lemme get something.” He got up from the couch and began to rattle around in the makeshift box of records that you kept just next to the record player. 

Of course, given John’s hobbies, it was absolutely stacked, but you had added a fair amount of your own to the stack. Though, that’s not what he was reaching for. 

The record he held was dark in color, though you couldn’t quite make out what was on the cover. 

“John, what in the-”

“I used to do this shit all the time whenever I got pissed but me fists were too tired.” 

“So never?”

He put the needle on the record and you immediately recognized the sound. The scratchy blues tones of Muddy Waters, one of his favorite artists, began to fill the small room, launching into the first number. 

I don’t want you to

Be no slave

His voice was something else. 

“Come ‘ed, come ‘ed.” John pulled you forward by your hands, though you refused to break apart your fists.

I don’t want you to

Wake all day

Normally, you would’ve had some witty question, but you just looked at him, your face in the pits of confusion. 

“Well?” Crap. You didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh.

“Hear me out. Try singing to it.”

I don’t want you

To be true

“What? John, I-”

“Come, on, I know you know the words.” He wouldn’t show it, but this sly grin was his way of pleading. 

I just want to make

He seemed convinced. You relented. 

“Love to you.” You sang in unison with the record, very softly.

The guitar kicked in. Your feet began to sway. You looked at John, who’s eyes were closed for the briefest moment as he took in the music. 

“A little louder, yeah?” He cocked his head to you.

“I’d rather not make your ears bleed.” 

“It’s not about sounding good, pet.” He was a little more sage than usual. 

“I don’t want you to wash my clothes.” You were a little louder this time, though you could already feel your throat beginning to burn. 

“I don’t want you to keep our home.” A little louder. 

“I don’t want your money too.” Your voice scratched a little bit in the back. You had a fair amount of rasp as you hit the high note. 

“I just wanna make love to you, baby” You pointed at John cheekily.

Now, the guitar really began to show itself, crackling all over the rhythm. It was energetic, and you could feel your feet moving along with it, but more than that, it was visceral and raw. 

You could feel yourself ready for the next verse. John was tapping his foot and muttering along the lyrics.

“I don’t want you to cook my bread.” You had fully committed to loudly yelling one of your favorite blues songs. 

“I don’t want you to make my bed.” 

“I don’t want you because I’m sad and blue!” You hopped lightly, like you were performing on stage. 

“I just want to make love to you.” You pointed at John like you were aiming a gun. 

The guitar kicked in again, and this time you swung your feet jovially. You were a good dancer, at the very least. You moved your arms in rhythm, and pulled John into the heat with you. 

It wasn’t a great dance, nor a nice dance, but damn if it didn’t get all your energy out. 

The song faded away, but you smiled. You knew what was coming next. 

The guitar wailed. You hummed along with it. It wailed again. You were in the trance. 

Then the rhythm thumped into place. 

“Now when I was a young boy! At the age of five!” This song was great to yell along too. 

The riff thumped again. There was an external harmonica source. John was next to you, his harmonica in hand, playing along, watching you with excitement. You continued to yell the lyrics. 

Slowly, you made your way through the song, loudly declaring to whoever would listen that you were a man. You and John in the center of the room shouting, with him occasionally turning back to his harmonica. What a pair you made. 

You’d forgotten that you were even angry by the end of the song.

You could feel sweat coming down your face. You clung onto John, giving him a half hug and half grasp for stability.

The guitar announced the entrance of the next song. You were about to pull away but John’s arms tugged you a little closer. He placed his loosely around your waist. You caught on and landed yours on his neck, still holding tight on his chest. 

She moves me, man

Honey, and I don’t see how it’s done

You gently whispered the lyrics along, while John remained silent, resting his head on top of yours as you gently danced. This song was a lot slower, but still quite bluesy. 

You gently swayed, both content. 

She moves me, man

Honey and I don’t see how it’s done

She got a pocket full of money

Little doll don’t try to help me, though

“John?” Your face was still planted squarely in his chest. He smelled like sweat, but you could imagine that you did too. 

“Hm?”

“I feel better now.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled, “That used to help me a lot.”

“But you did it by yourself?” You looked up from his chest for a little bit. He was thinking.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Well, you won’t ever again.” You promised, before collapsing back into his chest again and pulling yourself even closer. 

He was silent. You’d caught him off guard. 

“You neither, (y/n).” He said at last, before pulling you closer. And there you stayed for a while, as the song drifted on.

She shook her finger in a blind man’s face 

“Once blind but now I see”

She moves me man

[missdawnandherdusk]

Hi there!!! I’ve been reading your fics for a while, and I admire your writing style so much! I want to get into writing more, and was wondering if you had any advice whether that’d be on the more technical side of writing or even the more personal side regarding growth and such. Thank you 🥺 you’re amazing 🥺💖

Awe, my heart~

Anyway, sorry it took me so long to answer this, ya girl has been through a lot the past month, but here we go. 

More technical stuff? Well...

Find what is aesthetically pleasing in your writing document. What font? Line spacing? Paragraph spacing? Do you like to indent your new paragraphs? Currently, I have mine in Times New Roman, 12pt font, 1.5 line spacing, and 2.0 paragraph spacing, and it works well for me. I don’t indent my new paragraphs because it gives me a better idea of what it will look like on Tumblr as I write. It sounds silly, but honestly, just like you work better in a clean room, you’ll work better in a clean document

Never try to write an entire one-shot/chapter in one sitting. You’ll burn yourself out, Give yourself time to think about different ways that your writing can go, rewrite scenes, or different paths that a scene can take.

That being said, keep notes. I have notes on my phone (the iPhone note app) that sync to my laptop, so anytime that I don’t have easy access to my laptop or would rather type on my phone, I always have it accessible. It can be blurbs, some conversations, beginnings of stories I may or may not write. 

When you’re inspired, write. When I watch Sherlock or Supernatural or reread Harry Potter, and I think something can be changed or done better, I stop and write how I would want it to go, or what I would do if I was there. It’s a good way to get into the habit of writing also learning to find your voice and learning that as a writer you have the power to change whatever you want. 

For aesthetic reasons, I have found that when creating a post, people enjoy a title, what paring, a summary, an a/n, and a gif before the story. It’s a preview/trailer to what you’ve written. Make it mean something, try and grab your reader. Marketing is half the battle and the most important part of the post. 

Make your summaries vaguer, even if you got a request I don’t want to read an explanatory summary of everything that happens, then I won’t read the work because I already have. Make it a question that you answer in the story that the reader also wants to know the answer to. Set the stage a bit so that the reader wants to know this new story you’ve created. It’s a trailer, not a movie review. 

For personal growth...

don't be afraid to change fandoms and grow. I started in supernatural, hopped to tmnt, and now here I am at HP. I write but don’t publish Sherlock fics more because it's my own challenge (I’ll talk about that next). But your interests are going to change, don’t be afraid to pick up one fandom and leave another for the sake of growth. Sure your readers might miss you, but writing is for you, not them. And there are always more people out there willing to read better writing than the same writing. 

Challenge yourself in character types. Most time I skim over Draco fics because though I love y’all, you’ve made him a simp, or the reader a simp, and it’s unrealistic. Don’t write established characters as you want them to be, but write them as they are and explore situations that might get them to change. It’s not wrong to want better for a character, but don’t get too lost in how you want things. It makes the foundation of your writing crumble. My biggest writing challenge is Sherlock because he’s so anti-emotive and all I do is emotions. It’s fun to play with different scenarios and even to see what Sherlock would do if someone like me walked into his life.

Which goes to say, have fun. Just because Draco or Sherlock might be a stick in the mud, doesn’t mean that you can’t have fun with it. What would push their buttons the most? What could they not tolerate? What would your character do that would push them over the edge? Would it end well? Or poorly? No one wants a “yes” man all the time. Create conflict and push what it means for your characters to grow

Don't be afraid to take writings from one fandom and use them in another. Draco and Sherlock are very similar and archetypes, and it goes unnoticed when I change my Sherlock fics into scenes for my Draco ones. 

READ EVERYTHING YOU CAN. You’ll pick up on writing styles you like, on how certain authors express emotions and scenes. Maybe you like how one author portrays betrayal, or forgiveness, or breakups, or fluff. It’s all about learning from others and creating your own style. Pick up things here and there, leave things that you don’t quite want. Don’t be afraid to use dialogue you like (I ‘steal’ from books and movies all the time).

Let some things die. If you started writing something and you’ve grown from that time and it’s still not finished, let it be unfinished, or start it again with your new knowledge. But it’s okay to not finish things. It’s okay to move on and never get an answer to an ending. You’re not writing a book (yet) just enjoy not having a deadline and a script and go with it

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(i just cleaned it up, if you were kicked off, tumblr wasn’t letting me tag you anymore, just send me an ask and i can try to add you again :))

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[kitkatd7]

Christmas Coffee

12 Days of Christmas; Day 1

Pairing: Barista!Ransom x Reader (Soft College AU) (Based in New York for the Rockefeller center and Christmas feeling) 

Summary: You usually stop for Starbucks before class but the semester is over. That won’t stop you from stopping by to see the cute barista though ;)

Warnings: None? Just fluff, caffeine  and snow.

Request: Ransom loses money access, works for Starbucks, falls for cute barista. (Requested by @malloryharris )

Word Count: 1108

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s my first Christmas/winter story! Also @malloryharris I’m sorry I changed it a bit from your request, but I really couldn’t get it to flow within the exact guidelines. I hope it’s okay!! Love you. (Also covid doesn’t exist in these stories and It’s 1 week before Christmas here :))

Masterlist of Masterlists

Other Characters Masterlist

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

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

You receive your favorite holiday coffee from the starbucks barista with a smile and small “thank you,” before glancing at your cup with a sigh. Every time. You would think that since you've been here 2 days a week for the past 3 and a ½ months they would at least learn to spell your name correctly, but no. Not even once have they spelled it right. You're usually too busy rushing off to class to even glance at it, but the semester has finally drawn to an end. With no class to scurry to, you step to the side, pulling out your phone before subtly glancing behind the counter, hoping to catch a glimpse of the reason you even come here; the quiet, brooding barista you’ve been silently crushing on since the beginning of the semester. 

Finding no sign of him you turn to go, gasping when you spill a third of your drink down the front of a barista in a dark green cashmere sweater. 

“I am so sorry!” 

“Watch where-” The biting remark dies on his lips as his eyes land on you. Straightening, he takes a half step back. “It’s alright. It wasn’t very hot at least.”

“I wasn’t looking and I was upset about my order and- I should have been more careful,” you blabber, blushing in embarrassment as a small smirk appears on his lips. 

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me then, won’t you, sweetheart?” 

You blush harder, tripping over your words, “ho-how?”

“Ask me out.” His tone is between teasing and daring, but he’s not expecting you to do ask. 

“But I don’t even know your name,” you reason.

“Ransom. Ransom Drysdale. And you are…?” He asks, glancing at the spelling on your cup in confusion. 

Chuckling slightly, you give your name, feeling a little more comfortable. You extend your hand politely and his large hand envelopes yours. “They always spell my name wrong,” you explain with a roll of your eyes.

“Well how is it supposed to be spelled?”

Spelling it properly, you laugh gently as he gives what is almost a smile.

Anyway- I’m not asking you out, I’m telling you what’s gonna happen,” you smile flirtatiously as his eyes widen in shock.  “Friday night, 8 o’clock and don’t be late. Meet me at the restaurant across the street.” With that you waltz towards the exit, feeling more than a little surprised at your own forwardness- and Ransom was feeling the same. 

He wasn’t used to other people’s cockiness and attitude- but at least he got his Christmas wish; he was finally going out with you after glancing at you across the counter for 4 months.

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

Thursday morning rolls around quickly, with snow coming down in large, slow drifting flakes; blanketing New York in what truly is a winter wonderland. Slipping into your black jeans and a light pink v-neck, you grab your leather jacket and black beanie before walking out the door and the short distance to Starbucks. 

Ordering your usual, you scroll through Instagram while you wait. 

“Hey.”

Startled, you look up to see Ransom holding your order.

“Hey,” you repeat, smiling at him as he hands you your drink. 

“Thank you.” Checking the spelling out of habit, you're startled when it’s correct. “Did you…?” you ask, gesturing to it.

“I’ve gotta get back to work,” is his only response as he shrugs nonchalantly- but his eyes are bright and a small smile tilts his lips and that’s all the answer you need as you blush.

“I’ve gotta go anyways. But don’t be late tomorrow, and dress warm!” 

“Why do I need to dress warm for dinner?” He implores, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Who said we were going to dinner?” You smirk, watching his brows furrow further. Shooting him a wink, you walk towards the door.

You look back over your shoulder when he asks, “Where are we going then??”

“You’ll have to show up to find out!” You say cheerily, a small laugh leaving your lips as he almost smiles. 

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

Waiting under the restaurant sign, you smile when you see a tall, unmistakable figure walking towards you in a brown trenchcoat. 

“Wow- you look... beautiful,” he says honestly, gaze drifting over your favorite outfit before meeting your eyes again.

“Thank you… You look handsome.” You return his warm smile. 

“So… Wanna tell me where we’re going?” He asks, falling into step beside you.

Giggling softly you glance at him, looking away when you find him already looking at you. “No… I don’t think I’ll tell you. It’s your Christmas surprise,” you say with a wink as he sighs.

“I’m not gonna convince you to tell me, am I?”

“Nope! But cheer up! I promise it’s good. Totally unrelated question... but what shoe size do you wear?” 

“10 or 10 ½… Why?”

“No reason.” You smile up at him.

You walk a few blocks with a stream of chatter between you; getting to know each other.

Pulling a dark green handkerchief from your back pocket. “Stop here and put this on,” you say as he looks at you suspiciously.

“Oh c’mon! It’s clean and everything,” you joke as he relents, tying it behind his head with a huff.

 Taking his hand you start leading him slowly down the street, missing the blush that dusts his cheeks. 

“2 tickets and rentals please,” you say, walking up to the window, murmuring a polite “thank you” before pulling Ransom after you. “Okay sit here,” you say, guiding him to a bench. “I’ll be right back.” 

A moment later you reappear. “You can take that off now.” 

As he slips the blindfold off, you hold up 2 pairs of ice skates, a victorious, cheeky smile plastered on your face. “Surprise!!!” 

His brows furrow, and your smile falters, thinking you must have done something wrong. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- This was a bad idea. We can go, if you want,” you offer, your smile melting away.

“What? No, that’s not it. This is great!” He says reassuringly, giving you another half smile. “I just, uh, don’t know how to ice skate,” he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Smiling, you put on your skates. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.” At your words, the first real smile you’ve seen appears on his lips., reflecting your own.

3 and a ½ hours later when they kick you out at closing time, you’re both breathless and bright eyed. 

You stroll home slowly, laughing and smiling all the way, your smile growing when his larger hand slips into yours and large snowflakes fall in unhurried swirls around you. 

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

Thank you so much for reading!! Any and all feedback is welcome!

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12 Days of Christmas: (OPEN)

@myraiswack

[youllneverknowrac]

Oscar Diaz-Toxic

Hey guys maybe this will have another part? I’m not sure yet, anyways I hope you all enjoy!

One again I have to thank @spookysmujer for helping me with this idea. She’s a real one. Y’all go check her stuff out. She’s amazing!

~

“Girl fuck that, he knew we were going out tonight. Don’t let Oscar kill your vibe bitch, you’re allowed to have fun every once in a while,”Your best friend Naomi says into your ear as she sits next to you in the booth, your other two friends sitting on the opposite side.

“Yeah Y/N, it’s my birthday. We have to turn up. Besides it’s not like we’re chilling with guys, so he has no reason to trip.” Dina adds with a sigh as she reaches for a chip and dips it into the thick queso that sat in the middle of the table.

“What’s he saying anyways?” Jess questions as she leans forward to listen.

“He said,*Man you know I don’t like when you go out with out me,*”Followed by,*Just come home. I’m not playing, I don’t want you out with your hoe ass friends,* You admit with a groan,”Now he’s asking why am I not replying.”

“Man fuck that, you don’t dog on him when he’s with his own hoe ass friends.” Naomi says after taking a sip of her frozen margarita,”Tell him to chill out. We’re literally just grabbing dinner and then going to a hookah lounge. Maybe a bar. You’ll be home before the sun is even up.”

“You’re right, why do I have to feel guilty for having friends? He’s with his homies almost everyday so why can’t I just have one night to myself.” You say as you read three more messages that he wrote in question of you not answering him,*I’ll be home in a little bit. Quit blowing my line up. I’m with the girls, and that’s it. Stop being crazy.*You type and send with no second thought.

*Who you calling crazy? You better be home after your little dinner. I ain’t gonna wait up all night for you.*

*Then don’t. I have a key.* You text back, Oscar moving you into his crib about two months ago.

‘Nah ima bolt that shit shut and why ain’t yo friends answering me? You really with them or what?’

‘I told them not to answer you psycho. Quit texting them. I will be home in a little bit. BYE.’ You send, Oscar calling two seconds later as you hit decline.

‘Whatever guy your with, I hope he shoots back.’ He sends, causing you to internally scream as you ignore it and toss your phone into your bag.

“I need another mojito.” You mumble as you hold your hand out to get the waiters attention since she was pretty far.

“He will get over it.”

“Yeah, just suck his dick or something when you get home.”

“No don’t reward him for being obsessive.”

You take in all the advice from your friends, letting everything sink in before shaking your head,” I don’t even want to talk about him right now. Can we please just get tipsy so we can head over to the bar and get completely wasted? How does that sound?”

“Hell yeah.” Naomi smiles, picking up her drink and gulping it down in one go.

~

The Uber driver drops you off after your ‘wild night’. Your friends having been dropped off along the shared ride, all of you completely wasted at this point.

“Thank you sir.” You slur as you grab your purse and search for the door handle in the up coming morning light. The sun wasn’t all the way up yet, so you weren’t technically out all night. Let’s just hope your boyfriend sees it like that. You ignored Oscar all night and when you finally checked your phone in the car you had 26 missed calls and 73 messages from him. You stumble up the driveway and go to the front door, grabbing your key from your bag and trying your best to quietly unlock the door,”Shit.” You mutter as you drop your keys on to the floor, you kick off your heels before picking them up and hanging them on the hook,”Oscar!?” You whisper shout just in case, sighing in relief when you don’t get a response. You pad down the hallway and into the shared bedroom to find him asleep in the bed, a few empty bottles of beer on the night stand along with burnt out roaches in the ashtray. You sneak past him and head into the bathroom, pulling off your tight fitted dress and leaving it on the floor as you step out of it. You quickly wipe your face clean, no make up left behind after you start the shower so the water could warm up. You step in after while and let the hot water run over you, not even realizing that Oscar walked in until the shower curtain in being pulled back minutes later,”Um can I help you? You’re getting water everywhere.” You say startled as you yank the curtain back shut.

“Why you showering? Washing off that other foo?” You hear him say as he leans back against the counter with crossed arms.

“Seriously? Do you really think I’d cheat on you?” You ask as you focus on your wash routine.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You ignore me all night, and don’t come home until 6am. Then when you get here, you hop in the shower. How else am I suppose to take it?”

“Take it by believing me. I told you what I was doing. I have no reason to lie Oscar. I was with my friends the whole night.”

“Nah, I don’t believe that. You’re for the streets, you just proved that to me.”

“I’m for the streets? Just cause I went out one time?” You ask as you work on scrubbing your body,”You literally work the streets, you sale on the streets, these are your fucking streets. Don’t you think you’d have proof if I was out here being unfaithful? That someone would tell you something?”

“Not if you being sly with it. What’s his name then? Who I gotta fight?”

“Yourself, cause you’re the only guy I’ve been with.” You say with a clap of your hands,”Can you get out? I’m not in the mood to argue with you right now.”

“Who’s arguing? I’m just trying to have a discussion on why my girl thinks it’s okay to stay out all night.”

“Oh my god!” You squeal as you shut the water off and open the curtain once more, snatching the towel from Oscar’s outstretched hand with out a thank you,”I’m grown, I can go out if I want to.” You inform him like it’s the most obvious thing,”Quit being so toxic. I can’t even shower in peace because you are so paranoid.”

“Toxic? You females learn one word on the internet and over use it.” He laughs dryly, moving aside as you step out onto the mat,”It ain’t toxic to worry about my women. A women that I love.”

“Worrying about me isn’t, but it is to accuse me of cheating on you. And then have the nerve to come in here and try to ‘talk things’ out when your only intent is to annoy and argue with me.”

“Aver, let me see your neck. Let me see if you letting another vato mark you up.” Oscar says, his statement proving your entire point as he ignores your words.

“Nah, I ain’t dumb. I do all the marking.” You smile sweetly at him as you tighten the towel around your body before spinning around and heading to the closet. If Oscar wanted a fight he definitely has one now.

“What did you just say?” He barks

“I said I do all the marking. I can’t come home with that shit all over my neck, what would I look like.”

“See I knew you were fucking with some one else. Who is it? Yo ex? I’ll fuck him up over you. Don’t play with me.”

“Think what you want.” You shrug as you slip on a pair of underwear,”It seems like you have a bunch of assumptions about me anyway.”

“You didn’t answer me all night! What the fuck else am I going to think!” He bellows again as he watches you pull on one of his shirts to sleep in.

“THINK what you want. I do not care any more. The only thing I currently care about is going to bed. You can either stand here and argue with yourself or you can join me and go back to bed because I know you’re tired.” You sigh as you climb on to the middle of the mattress and snuggle under the blanket, turning your back to him.

“I’ll drop it if you promise you ain’t going back out with them.” He says seriously moments later,”Joker told me all about them and how they get around.” He explains as his voice grows remorseful. Just like it always did when he picked a fight and then apologized minutes later.

“Okay Oscar.” You yawn as you let your eyes close deciding to just agree with whatever he says so you can get to sleep,”I won’t hang out with them again.” You lie, having already made plans for next weekend with them.

“I mean it.”

“So do I.” You say as you feel him climb in behind you.

“I don’t mean to trip mami. I just got jealousy issues...how could I not when I have you as my girl.” He whispers into your ear after while as he pulls you to his chest,”I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. I know you’d never cheat on me.”

“It’s fine Oscar, can we please just go to sleep? I’m really tired.” You say as you open your eyes and look out the window. Trying to remember a time when things were calmer with you and Oscar. Now it seems like all you guys do is fight, make up, and have sex,”Hm? Yeah, I love you too.” You reply as you hear him mumble it into your ear, your eyes watering as you blink back the tears all while telling yourself that it’ll get better. That it has to get better because you were exhausted at this point and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on to this relationship.