#and hes excited to put on those goddamn. those shoes look at them

[5hrignold]

im overtired and thinking about him again

[paymechildsupport]

Can you write jjk men groveling after trying to make reader jealous🙏

--> Dw, I gotchu fam >:)

Jealousy looks good on You // JKK Men x Reader 

[Trying to make you jealous is not a good idea

—> They make you jealous, you make them beg.] 

       ☆ INCLUDES

☆ S. Gojo

☆ S. Geto 

☆ Toji Fushiguro 

☆ R. Sukuna 

       ☆

————————————————————————

[--⋆ ★ SATORU GOJO]

The bastard’s a lil’ shit, of course somewhere in that combobulated brain of his he thought it was a good idea to make you envious 

You were always so busy with work— what even were you doing anyways-? Surely it couldn’t be anything nearly as important as giving Satoru your attention— he was your boyfriend after all, your one and only 

He’s rich enough to provide for the both of you, something he’s brought up to you numerous times, only to be refused. Even if Satoru had more than enough money, his time was split quite unevenly between you and his career,— something that frustrated both of you to no end. You needed something to do while he was away most of the time. 

Satoru is annoyingly good at making his wants crystal clear; but when it comes to those deeper emotions, he struggles admitting when he’s dependent. You wanted to be invested in your job? Fine then, not like Satoru cared, he had his own job to attend to anyways. 

Continuously shoving yours and his needs aside, he began to experience withdrawal from your presence. He missed your touch, your voice, your loving gaze,— and it showed 

Everything blew up in Satoru’s face when he got a lil’ too pent up fighting the Special Grade, Jogo: why the actual fuck was he giving that cyclops his loving eyes?? It should be you enlisting such excited noises from his pretty lips, not the goddamn volcano bastard. He let down his infinity to hold his hand. You can’t remember the last time he held your hand— he was even starting to put up infinity around you of all people, and it hurt you to no end. 

“That fucking bastard…”

Getting home rather late, your keys jammed into the keyhole, jiggling the lock open. Borderline kicking the door down, you storm into the apartment. Satoru’s head immediately shoots up at the noise, having previously just been napping peacefully. He still had that stupid blind fold on. 

You don’t even bother taking your shoes off before making a beeline for his space on the sofa, grabbing him under the arms and roughly tugging him upwards. Manhandling him against the wall before he could even react— slamming your lips onto his, your tongue shoving itself deep inside his mouth

And now here he was, the Strongest, the untouchable Satoru Gojo on his knees at your feet, beautiful blue eyes glassy with tears, bottom lip quivering. He looked pathetic, all naked and bared to you, all flawless pale skin and defined muscle. His body was sculpted by the Gods themselves,— and here he was, saccharine voice shakily begging for your touch. 

“P—…please!” 

“Please what? Use your words, Satoru” 

“Please touch me.-! *hic* I.—I need you—“ 

“Mmm…” you hummed, “sure didn’t seem like it…” 

His gorgeous blue eyes widen, “I..-I…” 

Grinning, “Say it, Toru. Tell me what you really want” 

“You!” He sobs, head dropping down onto your bare thigh, “All I want is you.! Please,.. *hic* touch me…” 

Your eyes narrow, “perhaps you should’ve thought more before giving some fucking curse bedroom eyes.” You spat acid, the words making Satoru wince

His sobs quieted, his muscular arms clinging desperately to your legs, criss crossed on the bed, “M’ sorry… so sorry…” 

Gently running your hands through his snowy hair, Satoru inhales sharply, lips trailing light kisses along your thighs, whispering the next words into your skin, 

“Jus’ wanted your attention… jus’ wanted you to look at me again…” 

You sigh, smiling kindly, tilting his upwards to meet your gaze. Using your thumbs you wipe the tears from his cloudy eyes, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 

He smiles back weakly, happy to finally just have your attention on him and solely him. 

———-

[--✭- SUGURU GETO]

Being a nationwide wanted criminal and nefarious cult leader meant Suguru often had to get up to some nefarious activities,— activities he’d rather you stay far away from 

Sometimes he’d spend days away from you, sinking you deeper into loneliness. It’s only natural you’d begin to branch out to other cult members for company

Suguru supposed he didn’t mind, at least not yet. He knew it was incredibly selfish to expect you to reserve yourself solely for his gaze, considering how often he spent away from you. He did adore that envious gleam in your eye whenever he talked to a new member, your possessiveness charming him. But when you started talking to those monkeys in town? Oh man, that set him over the edge. How dare those disgusting heathens defile you with their stench? 

Boy did his master plan blow up in his face: trying to get you more co-dependent on his presence and his presence alone only seemed to have the opposite effect. He’d push you away so far that now you were seeking out those worthless monkeys for companionship. Suguru had never felt so wronged in his life before

Now here he was, in the temple where curses were suppose to get down and grovel at his feet was Suguru Geto on his hands and knees begging for your forgiveness

Head bowed low, hair cascading down his back, Suguru couldn’t even look you in the eyes as your gaze raked over his kneeling figure. 

How ironic: there you were, lounging in his chair,— his throne— with the most notoriously dangerous curse user at your feet, groveling just like every other pathetic curse that’s walked into this room seeking his grace. 

If any member were to walk in, they’d be absolutely horrified to see their Lord in such a pitiful state, but Suguru didn’t care. He only cared about you and what you thought. 

“Please… forgive me, my love” 

“…” looking every bit the vengeful God, your chin propped on your hand, your condescending gaze knocked the air right out of Suguru’s lungs

“Why’d you burn down the village?” Your tone is curt, devoid of much emotion

“They—- those.. those monkeys… you know what they did-“ He spat, the words tasting sour on his tongue

“No, I don’t. What did they do?” 

Suguru’s eyes widened, finally looking up to meet yours. Were you seriously gonna make him say it? 

“They… they.-“ he started shaking, the rage starting to bubble up to the surface. “They….-“ 

Sighing, you slide off the chair, kneeling down in front of him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Suguru’s cheeks reddened, 

“You can’t leave me alone and expect me to keep myself for yourself” your voice is hard, “being grateful.. it’s a rather cherished trait amongst your members, yeah? How about you show it every once and a while?” 

Suguru hissed, he shouldn’t allow you to treat him like this. No one should be allowed to treat him like this. If it were anyone else, their head would already be rolling on the floor. 

Not you though, you were the exception,— he loved you,— and he oughtta show just how much he appreciated you 

Taking your hand in his, he brings it daintily to his lips, pressing them softly to your palm,— then your wrist, and a butterfly of little kisses up your arm, stopping only when his face meets your ear, whispering hoarsely, 

“I’m sorry, darling,… please, I’m devoted to you alone… let me show you…” he kisses the spot behind your ear, nibbling lightly on the skin, “please…” 

You sigh, leaning in and allowing him to worship your body one would a God.

—————-

[---ˏˋ♥̩͙⑅ TOJI FUSHIGURO]

Toji’s a very busy man,- what with being a bounty hunter. In between hunting down  homosexual teenagers, it’s hard for him to find time for you

Because he’s a soulless old man who hates all happiness, Toji couldn’t help but resent Gojo Satoru even more, especially when the little git decided to approach you of all people 

Little teeny Gojo, tugging at the hem of your shirt on one of your rare outings with Toji. 

You look down to see the big, blue eyed child looking up at you

How could you resist that eery, soul searching look? 🥺 you immediately bend down to converse with the young lad 

Seeing one of the few outings he had with his beloved being taken up by that six - eyed wretch made Toji want to punt the stupid brat to the moon

Long after you got home was Toji still thinking of the dazzling smile— the smiles that were supposed to be reserved for him — you gave to Gojo

Toji knew it was incredibly petty of him, but he couldn’t help but feel a little vengeful towards you— (a lot of his hatred was already directed at child Gojo, so Y’know, it had to go somewhere else at the moment) 

Now, even on the days he didn’t have any targets to kill, Toji would spend his time with Shiu Kong, the man who gave his commissions. 

It did not work well for him. It only served to anger you, now giving him the cold shoulder. Toji was not built for this, and in a matter of days deprived of your attention he was a mess at your feet: 

It’s almost comical, the way you sat, crossed arms, in your seat, staring down at the man kneeling before you. Toji was massive, seeing such a big man curl up and make himself so small was absurd. 

Beefy arms wrapped around your waist, head in your lap, Toji could only continuously mutter apologies against your stomach, kissing the soft flesh and praying you would eventually forgive him, promising he’d never pull that shit again, 

“ ‘so ‘srry sweetheart,… ‘won’t happen ‘gain…” 

—————-

[--‗ ❍◦ RYOMEN SUKUNA]

Ryomen Sukuna never begs. 

He’s never had to, never will. 

He’s never asked nicely for something in his life before, what makes you think he’d ever beg for anything? 

He begs for your attention. 

“Look at me, goddamnit…” the curse growled in your ear. 

Sitting on Sukuna’s lap, you stare off uninterested into the void of his innate domain. The iron hold of his arms tighten around your waist. Not enough to hurt per say, but as a warning. You half expected him to shove you off, letting your body crash into the water below the throne of skulls. 

Sukuna rests his chin on your shoulder, huffing, 

“That was an order.” 

You only pout. 

“Oi, human” silence, “who the hell do you think you are to ignore me?” His voice was lethally quiet, voice husky on your ears. 

Gulp. 

“You’re an idiot if you’re still mad about that movie” — that got your attention

“I’m an idiot?” You snort, “You sure looked like the idiot to me: practically drooling over that human worm abomination.” Condescension oozed from your tone. Yuji’s movie played on repeat in your mind; the absolute fever dream of a film that somehow garnered Sukuna’s attention. The eye poking out of Yuji’s cheek wide open the entire time, fixated on that revolting, stomach churning excuse of cinema.

He doesn’t look at you like that anymore. 

“Are you jealous?” He sneers, mockery dancing in his tone, “how cute.” 

“Shut up. Shut the actual hell up. You pulled that shit on purpose.” 

Cackling, “you mortals sure are vain little creatures, getting upset over the most useless things-!” 

“Fine.” You snap, starting to squirm your way out of his hold

His tone immediately drops to a stern demand, “What are you doing?” 

“I’m done here,— you obviously have better interests. I’ll be leaving now” 

“No, you won’t.” Just as you were about to wriggle away you’re grabbed around the waist, sharp nails stabbing into your skin. 

You yelp. 

“Let me go-!” 

“No.” Sukuna effortlessly lifts your struggling body up, spinning you around on his lap, harshly yanking you against his chest. You’re surprised he doesn’t rip your arm clean off, considering it would be very easy for him to just cleave you in two, (you can’t really run away then). 

“You aren’t going anywhere.” His face is buried into the crook of your neck, squeezing your body against his, as if you would disappear at any moment. 

Deep crescents were pierced into your skin by his claw-like nails, droplets of blood gathering at the tiny openings where they previously had gripped your neck. Tentatively, he swiped the crimson drops away with his tongue, dainty kitty licks covering your neck. 

With a gentleness unknown to him, Sukuna muttered against the warm skin, 

“Stay with me.” 

Sukuna’s never said “sorry” before in his many long centuries on earth. The word wasn’t even in his dictionary, 

—but for you, apologies could be made in other ways. 

———

A/N: rauarauassjjsjs thanks for the request!! :3

Had a lot' o' fun with this one.

[radiant-reid]

NO BC IMAGINE HER COMING IN WITH THEIR KIDS (we all know spencer can't stop at one so they'd have 3 max) AND EVERYONE IS LIKE. "whos goddamn wife is that.."

(I'm talking at least spences slick back hair era)

him >>> this is in my top 5 hairstyles, i wish he wore it more

Spencer had been out the door early that morning with the usual kiss on the forehead for his kids and a minute's worth of chaste kisses for his wife.

Friday nights are dance classes which usually works well with Spencer's schedule since their cases start at the beginning of the week and wrap somewhere in the middle.

He didn't take his car to work, figuring they didn't need two, especially since they were going out afterward to get ice cream and celebrate the girls' recital.

Morgan had distracted Spencer while he's waiting for a message from Y/n to tell him she's there, and when his phone chimes, he doesn't hear it.

So the four of them make their way up to the sixth floor, the girls bouncing up and down while Y/n holds their youngest.

Spencer doesn't notice them until the girls squeal and run across the floor to where he's standing in the kitchenette. He knows those sounds well and turns from tipping out the rest of his coffee to greet them.

"Hey." He grins, bending down to their height and holding out his arms so he can catch the three-year-olds. The twins attack him with cuddles, excited to see him after so long. He effortlessly picks them up, carrying one in each arm against his sides as he looks at his wife. "Why are you guys up here?" He asks.

"I texted and called." She tells him, and he looks for his phone before realizing he left it sitting on his desk.

"Oh, I was in the board room. I'm sorry." He apologizes, knowing it can't have been easy to lug three kids out of the car.

She shakes her head, stepping closer to kiss him. "Don't worry. Are you nearly ready to go? These two are pretty excited."

They agree, kicking their ballet-shoe-clad feet up and down. "I can tell. You both look so pretty." He tells them, looking at their identical white tutus and slick back buns. "And yeah, we should probably go." He spins around, carrying them to his desk to skillfully pick up his stuff while holding them.

Y/n follows him with the baby carrier, helping put his (thankfully closed) files into his satchel while Spencer chats to the girls about their days.

While they stand in the middle of the bullpen, they're viewable from the boardroom where Morgan, JJ, Emily, and Penelope are sitting.

Morgan catches them in his peripheral vision first. "Uh, guys, who's that with Reid?" He draws everyone else's attention to the happy family outside.

"Spencer's got kids?" JJ asks as they all make their way to stand closer to the glass where they can see the mysterious visitors.

"Spencer's got a wife?" Penelope echos her confusion.

"A hot wife." Emily jokes, getting hit on the shoulder by Penelope as punishment.

Morgan seems to agree with her, though. "That can seriously not be someone's mom."

"Should we, like, leave them?" JJ wonders, although she really doesn't want to.

"No." Penelope shakes her head. "We've got to meet those adorable children."

It's Morgan's voice that draws Spencer out of the bubble of their happy family, reminding him he was never out of eyesight. "Hey, pretty boy," Morgan smirks, out of the room and leaning on the railing.

JJ, Penelope, and Emily all stand next to him, watching Spencer's reaction."What is going on?" JJ asks.

Spencer's speechless about their secret coming out, so Y/n steps up. "Hi, I'm Y/n Reid, and I'm his wife." She introduces herself. The four of them make their way down to shake her hand, except for Penelope who can't resist hugging her.

"You have a wife?" JJ asks.

"And three kids?" Penelope adds.

"A beautiful wife, too." Morgan flirts playfully.

Spencer chuckles slightly. "Surprise?" He offers. "This is Belle." He turns to the side, showing them one twin. "And this is Bea."

"Daddy!" 'Bea' complains with a giggle. "I'm Mabel."

He's been mixing them up on purpose since they were little, amusing them to no end which was his goal as a parent. He just grins at her. "And that's Beau." He nods to the 6-month-old boy still in his seat, still asleep. Y/n turns his car seat around so they can see the baby.

"I'm sorry you guys never knew." She apologizes. It would have been nice for both parts of Spencer's life to overlap, but he was paranoid about something happening to them.

"Wow." Morgan verbalizes for the rest of them. "You really can keep a secret."

Penelope places a hand over her heart jokingly. "Even I didn't know."

"It won't make you feel better, but Gideon, Hotch, and Rossi all know." Spencer tells her menacingly. He knows she's going to go look them all up when they leave. As little people as possible knew since he was terrified about someone bad getting to them, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulder now that his two lives have overlap. "We do kind of have to go." He remembers, looking at his watch.

"We'll just send you a list of questions when we finalize them." Penelope settles as they say farewell to each.

Morgan waits until they're just out of earshot to make his next comment. "Number one, how did you get such a hot wife?"

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXV

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 10,689

You had half expected for the entire farm to be torn apart by the time you woke up, but your morning proceeds exactly as it has for however long its been since you got here. Of course, you’re also extremely on edge the entire time, you can’t swallow a single bite of your breakfast (no matter how many times San offers you a bite of his), you convince yourself that Hongjoong is staring at you harder than normal, and the lights seem too bright and the people too loud. 

You just… keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely they’ve realized that Haseul is gone by now, so why is no one acting like it? Realistically, its probably to keep people from panicking. If they sounded the alarms and started a manhunt, that wouldn’t look too good, especially when the cops show up.

There has never been a time in your life where you've been excited at the prospect of cops. Until you found yourself in this goddamned situation. Nothing could possibly be more satisfying to you than watching Hongjoong and Seonghwa get arrested, nothing better than testifying against them in a trial and watching them get put away for the rest of their earthly lives. 

There is the chance that San would be arrested too, though. Which would… be completely justified, but suck all the same. San has definitely been an accessory to murder, and at least willfully has covered up various murders and kidnappings… which is not cool. 

But how can you not look past those things when he’s pouting at you for not eating a single thing at breakfast? It’s not his fault that he’s here, right? That he was brainwashed and coerced into his role? You can’t blame him for acting for his survival. 

“You can’t just stop eating because you’re worried,” he nudges you once you’re back in your apartment. “You’ll wither away in this place.” 

You brush off his comment, knowing that this new state of yours won’t last for very long, “It’s just one breakfast.” 

San blinks at you, crossing his arms over his chest, “And what do they say about breakfast? Hm? The most important meal of the day?”

You roll your eyes, flopping down onto the couch. “What time is it?” 

He flicks his wrist up, looking down at his watch, “eight forty-seven.” 

Ugh. Not nearly close to time for book club. You have to wonder whether or not the cops will arrive before or after you’re forced to have one last chat with Hongjoong.

… Not that ‘forced’ is exactly the right word, here. No, you’re actually looking forward to this last meeting of yours. There are quite a few things that you would like to hear straight from the horse's mouth, rather than the police or the news or the lawyers or anyone else that might become involved. Plus, there are questions that probably could never be answered by anyone else. And you sure as hell don’t plan on visiting Hongjoong in prison. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

When that time of day finally rolls around, you’re practically flinging yourself out the door, tugging San along with you to make the short walk to Hongjoong’s door. 

He barely gets his slippers on, stumbling behind you into the hallway, “Is there a reason you’re so eager today?” 

“I have questions that I want answered.” You pull on his hand, poor San so confused that you can sense it in the hesitance of his steps.

When you arrive, you knock on the door, San stopping at your side as you wait for Hongjoong to answer, “But are you sure you feel up to this? We could say that you’re si—”

San’s proposal is cut off by Hongjoong answering the door. “Hello, you two.” 

San mutters a hello back, but you’re too caught off guard by his appearance to give a proper greeting. “Why the hell are you dressed like that?” 

Hongjoong frowns, looking down at his outfit. “Like what?” 

“Like, like,” you look him up and down. He’s wearing all black, but not like the last time you had seen him not looking like a farmer. The day of your Choosing ceremony seems like so long ago, but you can still remember those freaky matching outfits quite well. No, he doesn’t wear any accessories and these clothes are less… industrial. The boots might be the same. Otherwise, the pants he wears now are nicer and his shirt a plain t with a long, black, silky… robe (?) over top. The sign of the answer is on his arm, sewn into the bicep. For a moment, you wonder who it is that does that embroidery; it’s quite nice. “Like a priest?” It’s not an exact comparison, but its the word your mind comes up with. 

San nudges your side as Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “You really don’t pay attention during service, do you?” 

“Not really.” San nudges you more urgently this time, giving you a bit of a pleading look when you glance over at him. 

Hongjoong only sighs, stepping aside and opening the door wider to invite you in. You bid goodbye to San as you step inside, brushing past Hongjoong.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood, today?” Hongjoong shuts the door behind you, following you into his apartment.

“I have a lot I want to talk with you about,” you say, settling onto his couch. It’s true, there is a lot that you want to clear up. Haseul must have made it to town by now, and she must have sent the police already. There are some things that you need to hear from Hongjoong before its all over.

Hongjoong sits in his usual chair, looking at you with a bit of apprehension, “Is that so?”

“Yep,” you rest your elbow on the arm of the couch, leaning into your hand. “You never answered my question.”

“About the clothes?” He shakes his head, “Again, you would know if you paid attention.” 

“Maybe I would be better able to focus on service if not for you conjuring up other things for me to worry about.” 

Hongjoong frowns, “What are you worried about?” 

You drop your chin, looking at him through your eyelashes, “Really?” 

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. “I’ll admit that I might’ve lost my temper yesterday, but Haseul is perfectly fine, (Y/n).” 

A giggle tries to escape you, but you manage to keep it in. You can’t decide if you’d rather Hongjoong know that you know the truth or not. On one hand, if you cut the bullshit, you might be able to have a better conversation. To get more answers to your questions. But… it could be possible that he has no idea the involvement that you or San played in her disappearance. That seems highly unlikely, but… You’re just not sure if you should risk it. 

“You don’t believe me?” He asks, apparently impatient with your lack of response, “Do you want to see her?” 

… That throws you for a bit of a loop. Why would he ask if he couldn’t back it up? Obviously he must know that you would say yes, that you would want to see her. So why would he offer something that he can’t provide? 

Is it… is it possible that San lied? That he didn’t get her out? That he didn’t even try?

You stare at Hongjoong, trying to see if this is another one of his games. He stares right back at you, not a hint of emotion on his face. Yeah. That’s it. 

“Can we cut the bullshit?” You ask, lowering your voice. 

The corners of his lips twitch upward, only a little, “I don’t know what you mean, (Y/n). Do you want to see her or not?” 

“We both know that Haseul isn’t here,” you blink, waiting for him to contradict you.

Contradict you, he does. “But she is,” he smiles, then, one of his knowing little smiles that already tells you what he’s thinking. He’s about to say something to hurt you. You know it. “It was a cute attempt, (Y/n), I must admit. Getting San to help you and all. I didn’t know he was so…” Hongjoong bites his lip, looking for the right word, “Enamored with you.” 

You try your hardest to not betray the complete and utter sinking desperation you feel. 

“That’ll be dealt with in its own time. Haseul is safe and sound in her room, with Mingi for company.” He smiles again, “You didn’t really think it would be so easy, did you?” 

You want to scream. Why can’t anything work? Why can’t anything go your way? “I want to see her,” you whisper, attempting to keep your voice steady.

Hongjoong hums, “I think not, actually. Consider it your punishment for trying to get her out. I’ll let you off easy, since I knew that you would try something. Next time, I won’t be as gracious.” 

There’s a million questions bouncing through your head now, having lost your advantage. You had been so confident coming into this apartment, so sure that things were going your way. Why didn’t you even… consider that she could’ve been caught? How foolish can you be?

You can practically feel the spark that you had fleeting out of you. It happened so fast. In less than two minutes, all of your hopes coming into this conversation were crushed. How can tha—

“But this leads us to another topic, (Y/n).” Hongjoong uncrosses his arms, leaning forward in his chair. “What’s going on with you and San? Hm?” 

You take a sharp inhale, again trying to contain any hint of emotion. You would rather Hongjoong didn’t know how off guard he just caught you, and you would also rather that he not know about the… extent of your relationship with San. Which seems to be precisely where this conversation is about to head. 

“Well, Hongjoong, we spend about every waking second together, thanks to you. So we’re close.”

Hongjoong frowns sarcastically, tilting his head, “Close enough that he would risk his neck to do you a favor? When he knows that he’s on thin ice with me?” He drops the expression, returning to his stony neutrality. “I’m giving you a chance to be honest, (Y/n). Maybe I’ll be nicer if I hear it from you instead of him.” 

You blink at him, unsure of what to say. You honestly hadn’t really even… thought about how you would classify your relationship with him. Obviously you care about him, and he cares about you. And you get each other off occasionally, but, like… its not like he’s your boyfriend or something. You don’t feel like you should tell Hongjoong the truth… but you don’t want to make things worse for San, either. 

“What, precisely, are you asking me, Hongjoong?” You probably sound more defensive than you should let on, but you can’t help it. 

“Have you slept together?” 

“No.” 

Hongjoong shrugs, “Be that way, (Y/n), but what I can’t take out on you, I will take out on him.”

You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to think of a response, “But— Hongjoong, that’s the truth.” 

He holds a hand up, shushing your stuttering attempts at defending yourself, “You’re really only going to make things worse for him if you keep talking. Which I’m sure would just break your little heart, hm?” 

“Hongjoong, I’m being honest, I swear to Go—”

“Swear to God?” He smiles, “I thought you didn’t believe in me?” 

If you weren’t so preoccupied with trying to prove San’s innocence, you would roll your eyes. Hongjoong and his fucking ego. 

He cuts you off when you start to plead your case again, “I don’t believe you, do you know why?” His eyes are wide with curiosity as he blinks at you, a knowing smile on his face. 

You don’t know why he’s so sure, but you don’t really want to know, either. Anyways, it is the God honest truth that you and San haven’t had sex, so you have no idea what he even thinks he knows. Unless he’s some sort of… Mormon or something, last time you checked, oral is generally not referred to as ‘sleeping together.’ Like, Christ, can you have no peace here? 

You don’t respond, so Hongjoong continues, “Remember your next door neighbor, Seonghwa?” 

Your face actually goes slack this time, a frown curling over your lips. “Seriously? Seonghwa is your source?” 

“He’s rather trustworthy, in my experience.” 

“Seonghwa. The man that hates me so much he wants me. You don’t see how he could, I don’t know, lie to get San in trouble to, I don’t know, get him out of his way?”

Hongjoong laughs, then, the sound echoing around his apartment. “No, I don’t see him doing that,” he says once he regains his breath, though it takes a few seconds. “He’s not so petty.”

You do scoff, then. Seonghwa has to be one of the pettiest people that you’ve ever met in your life. Like, seriously, no fucking way does Hongjoong believe him to not be petty. 

That being said… you do find it a little hard to believe that Seonghwa would lie about this. He was the one that told you that San is not in the best situation with Hongjoong, and he seemed… sympathetic is the wrong word, but, like, he warned you about it. Would someone that was going to set you up give you such a head’s up? Plus, he did remind you of the fact that you were neighbors, which, like… yeah, okay. He could’ve heard something, but something doesn’t mean sex. People must masturbate here. What else is there to do? Could it not have been so simple in his mind’s eye? 

No, you don’t think that Seonghwa would jump to the fantastical conclusion that you’re sleeping with San. Nor do you think that he would be so jealous as to risk putting Hongjoong’s ire on San. While he doesn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the guy, you didn’t get the vibe that he wants him dead or anything. So… yeah. The pieces aren’t adding up. 

Might as well lean into it a bit, if there’s no convincing Hongjoong otherwise. “What would happen if I told you that San and I were together?” 

Hongjoong’s smile goes tense, as if he wasn’t expecting you to ask such a thing. For the first time, the thought that he could be bluffing crosses your mind… maybe a moment too late. Hongjoong pauses, looking between you and the books on his coffee table. 

“I,” He stops, tilting his head to the side as he keeps his eyes off of you, “honestly hadn’t truly considered it a possibility. Surely he cares for you, that’s to be expected, but…” 

So he was just trying to taunt you, then. Part of you feels like you’ve triumphed by managing to take him off guard with something, but that something is… not something that he should actually think is true. 

“Well, like I’ve been saying, Hongjoong, nothing has happened between us.” 

He looks back up at you and you’re shocked to see his eyes shining wet in the light, “No?” 

Your heart speeds up at the sight, reminded of the previous times that you’ve seen Hongjoong vulnerable. You don’t trust your voice to not shake, so you simply shake your head in agreement. 

“You know that I don’t want to hurt San, right?” He asks, frowning, “But there has to be punishments for breaking the rules. I’m only trying to keep peace.” 

You have no idea how Hongjoong feels about San. All you know is that this is making you extremely uncomfortable. Seeing Hongjoong cry is just, just so, ugh! You can’t control the way your heart squeezes in your chest, nor the guilt that broils in your stomach for being the cause of his distress. But… this is Hongjoong! He doesn’t deserve your empathy, but… 

“I know, Hongjoong,” you whisper, moreso trying to get him to stop rather than actually express the sentiment. 

He wipes his eyes, then, clearing his throat, “I suppose I can trust you, for now.” His gaze gets harder with each passing millisecond. “But I’m sure you can guess what will happen if I find out that you’re lying to me.” 

You can definitely put the pieces together yourself. So you nod your head in agreement, hoping that he believes you in this case. 

Hongjoong clears his throat again, fanning his face a couple times, “Was there anything else, then?” 

“Oh, uhm,” in truth, there was a lot more that you wanted to ask him about. He never answered your question about his clothes, you want to know more about this girl that came before you, and more about what the fuck The Answer says about you. But it feels strange to ask about any of that, after… yeah. Whatever that just was. 

… But you don’t actually care that much. So you decide to jump into the topic that he’ll probably like discussing with you the most. 

“I had some questions about the Answer, actually…” 

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, a smile growing across his face, “Have you finally read ahead?” 

Well… yes and no, but you’re not going to tell him that Wooyoung told you the gist of it, “Maybe a little bit.” 

He claps once, genuine glee showing through his expression. He even giggles, and not in the creepy way that he sometimes does. “This is wonderful, (Y/n)!” 

You give him an awkward smile, waiting for him to stop acting like a kid in a candy store. 

“So? You have questions?” He leads, “I might have answers.” 

Might. Isn’t that just the greatest word in existence. He definitely has all of the answers, considering all of this shit came from his own head; but he can pick and choose what he wants to withhold from you at any time. Because that’s Hongjoong. Always leaving an escape for himself. 

“Well, I’m just curious about a few things…” You start, trying to figure out how to word your questions so that they’re as… inconspicuous as possible. “First, do you know how I’m supposed to… uhm, ‘bring about the Sign?’” 

Hongjoong’s smile somehow grows even wider when you finish your question, “I’m proud of you, (Y/n). This is a huge step in your journey.” 

You don’t like that. Nope. Not the way he just said ‘journey.’ 

But Hongjoong tilts his head to the side, letting his smile go, “But I’m not sure I can answer your question. I’ve yet to have the concrete vision.” He shrugs, “I honestly think that the vision will come to you rather than me.” 

Oh Jesus Christ. Hongjoong has said some crazy bullshit to you before, but that is an entire new level. If he genuinely thinks that you’re going to believe that you are going to start having prophetic dreams because you’re supposedly some major figure in this goddamned cult lore, he has an entirely new thing coming for him. 

But you doubt that he thinks you’ll believe him. You haven’t before, why would you now? 

Your skepticism must show on your face, because Hongjoong continues. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re linked, somehow, in the grand scheme of things, (Y/n). It’s you that was foretold.” 

You blink, trying to not start screaming. Before you can really think too hard about it, you’re asking your next question. 

“But how do you know that it’s me, Hongjoong? There was a girl before me, wasn’t there?” 

The silence that follows is nearly as scary as Hongjoong’s reaction to your question.

His smile drops faster than you’ve ever seen. 

“San told you this?” Hongjoong asks, his tone hard. 

“Who told me isn’t important, I just want to talk about he—”

“It really is. Like I said, we have rules for a reason,” he tilts his head, folding his hands in his lap. “If you don’t tell me who it was, I will assume that it was San and he’ll be punished severely.” 

Well fuck. There’s not really a way to say that it was someone else without incriminating (a) San, for leaving you with someone else, (b) yourself, and (c) Wooyoung. But you can’t very well say that it was San, given the earlier subject matter.

But you really don’t want to throw Wooyoung under the bus, either, considering all that he just confided in you. He’s been long tortured by this man already, and he already part-way resents you for it. If you told him… 

There’s really only one other option.

“Seonghwa told me.” The words come out before you can really think about them. Seonghwa should be a good choice. He might hate your guts, but at least he has something of a soft (hard?) spot for you. If he gets in trouble, it should be okay. And, anyways, its not like Hongjoong would do anything to really punish Seonghwa, right? Surely not with whatever arrangement they have going on. Plus, fuck that guy for apparently ratting you out to Hongjoong. He lied to Hongjoong about you, you’ll lie to Hongjoong about him. Easy. 

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows. “Seonghwa,” he doesn’t ask, simply restating his name. “Seonghwa told you.” 

You shrug, “Is it so hard to believe?” 

His face crinkles with confusion, “Yes, it is. See, Seonghwa is probably the last person I would expect you to hear that from, considering his loyalty to me and the disgust he felt over that entire situation.” He ponders for a second, “No, Seonghwa would be the second to last person; but the point still stands.” 

‘Considering his loyalty’ to Hongjoong and his ‘disgust’ over that entire situation… Interesting details. Obviously, you know that Seonghwa is loyal to Hongjoong and wouldn’t ordinarily give you information that Hongjoong clearly doesn’t want you to know about. But his disgust? What does that mean? 

Anyhow, you figure that, if you’re already throwing Seonghwa under the bus, it couldn’t hurt to make it just a little bit worse, right?

“I thought you would know the kind of pillow talk Seonghwa engages in.” 

Hongjoong takes the longest blink you’ve ever seen, his eyes going wide as he stares at you. “Excuse me?” 

You shrug your shoulders, trying your best to keep this facade up. Seonghwa is going to be so fucking pissed. And so is Hongjoong. But this has to be better than Wooyoung or San getting punished, right? You can deal with some anger. They’d probably fare much worse. 

“I’m sorry, just, can you repeat yourself? It sounds like you’re telling me that you and Seonghwa…” he trails off, flapping his hands in front of himself as if he can’t even bring himself to speak the words. “I thought I made myself quite clear about my feelings on this matter.”

For once, you wish that you could just appreciate a moment where you’re able to be the one throwing Hongjoong off of his guard. But, no, you have to keep spinning your bullshit, because, of course, only a lie can leave him so astounded. 

“That’s really not what’s important here, Hongjoong, pleas—”

“Should I get Seonghwa? Do we need to have this conversation right now?” 

He goes to stand and you’re immediately holding your hands out to him, ushering him to sit back down, “no, no, no. Hongjoong, this is not what is important right now.” 

He looks at you like you’re insane, “Yes it is. You don’t need to know anything about Haneul.” 

Haneul. 

What a coincidence, no? 

“Hongjoong, please, just, can we talk abou—”

He tries to stand again, but you do the unthinkable. You touch him first, grabbing onto his arm to pull him back to his chair. “There’s nothing to know about her. She was fake, she wasn’t real. You shouldn’t worry yourself about her. She was inconsequential, unworthy of taking up any space in your pretty little head.” 

The way he speaks about her makes your stomach roll over. What in the fuck? She’s dead, and he’s talking about her like this? You shouldn’t be surprised, but it still makes you sick.

“But, Hongjoong, don’t you think it would help me understand my purpose, if you can explain why she couldn’t?” 

The panicked look on his face evaporates as if he’s suddenly remembered something important. He looks into your eyes, a small smile starting to tug across his face, “you really want to know?” 

The way he asks almost makes you want to take it back, to disagree with him. You just know that whatever it is that he just thought of is something that he’s going to use to scare you with, and the prospect isn’t too thrilling. But… any information is good information, right? 

“I do, Hongjoong.” 

He looks down at his hands, then, squeezing them together in his lap. You still have your hand on his arm, despite the level of uncomfort you’re experiencing, hoping that your touch is grounding him somehow.

When he looks back up, his smile is wider, his eyes more crazed, “there were a few reasons that Haneul couldn’t be the bearer. The first reason being her relationship with Jongho.”

What? Jongho? Is this why he has it out for you? Because Hongjoong replaced his girlfriend with you? Like, shit, he has every right to be pissed, but to be pissed with you is a bit… misplaced. 

“The second reason being her attitude. As you read, the bearer of the Answer is to be hesitant and abrasive. She should deny her role before fully becoming it. Little Haneul was obedient from the moment she arrived.” 

… You can’t fact check that one just yet, but yeah, sure, whatever. Hongjoong’s fucking insane. Any reason of his that comes from The Answer is not a legitimate reason for anything. 

“And then, of course, I decided that I liked you more.” 

You can’t stand it anymore. You let go of him, putting more distance between your bodies than you even do normally. Literally, genuinely, absolutely, what the fuck is wrong with this guy? What the fuck does he mean? How could he have possibly killed someone for you before even knowing you? 

So you blink at him and ask, “how the fuck did you decide that before meeting me?” 

“I don’t know why you keep insisting that we never met before you came here, (Y/n). Am I so memorable that you think you would remember even a fleeting interaction?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m honored,” Hongjoong flashes a teasing smile, though there’s an impatience growing in his tone, “But I’ve known you far longer than you realize.” 

The way he says this sends an actual chill down your spine, making you feel more vulnerable than just moments prior. “Can you at least tell me where we supposedly met? Or how long you’ve known me?” 

“Are you sure it won’t scare you?” Hongjoong smirks, “I think it would. All you need to know, (Y/n), is that I am positive that you are the one. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, it is you.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

After that, Hongjoong had decided enough was enough and made you start your lesson. In your opinion, that whole conversation about The Answer should’ve been enough to cover your lesson, but that’s just not how your life goes. 

But, for being such a good listener today, Hongjoong had given you a reward. The privilege of walking back to your apartment, unaccompanied. How lovely.

Of course, it would’ve been smartest to just go back to your apartment. You, in fact, definitely should’ve just done that. 

But you have more questions. And, really, how likely is it that he’s going to find out that you made a little detour? He didn’t say go straight back or anything.

So you find yourself outside, approaching the big barns. It’s strange to be alone. But not in a bad way. You peer down the road as you pass it, staring down its infinite stretch of gravel and corn. Surely the harvest is coming. Surely. 

You hadn’t brought a coat with you, but, thankfully, its rather nice outside. A bit chilly, in your long sleeve, but not unbearable. If anything, the chill makes you feel more grounded.

Maybe it’s a bad idea to try and talk to Jongho. No, scratch that, it’s definitely a bad idea to try and talk to Jongho. You’re full of them today. But, if there’s even the slightest chance that he can give you more information… you’re going to take it. 

You’re finding that you have almost an insatiable curiosity growing within you with each passing day. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism. Maybe you’re losing it. Whatever it is, you simply have to know. Everything. 

Plus, you’re a bit incensed that your plan to help Haseul escape failed so completely and utterly. You had been in such a good mood this morning, despite the tension you had been feeling. Now, you’re just angry. You hadn’t even been this angry when you, yourself, had failed to escape. This failure feels like a reflection of your efforts, and that pisses you off. Had you made a mistake, asking for San’s help? Is it possible that he… sabotaged the escape so as to save his own ass? Could you really blame him if he did? It was unfair, asking him what you did. But it was your only option at the time, and you know that. 

Either way, you’re just upset that you failed. Haseul is still here, locked up in a room somewhere and you’re not even allowed to see her. She’s probably scared out of her mind, confused and angry. She must have been lured here using you, right? Someone used your phone to get her here. San claims that it wasn’t him… but who else would it have been? Any of the elites probably could have, but… who? Not Wooyoung, not after what he told you. Seonghwa? Maybe, but could he mimic you well enough to convince Haseul? That’s really the question, you realize. Who knows you well enough that they could’ve gotten your best friend to believe they were you? 

There’s really only one option, and he had insisted that it wasn’t him. 

God, this is pissing you off even more. You don’t want to believe that it was San. Like he’s said, you don’t want to think that he would willingly hurt you, especially not now, with how close you are. It would be… very unsettling, to say the least. 

But, still, how had the escape failed? Who tipped Hongjoong off? Who was it that caught up to her? Had she ever even left in the first place? Was she hurt in the capture? Hongjoong had said that she was safe and sound… but, knowing that guy, that could mean any number of things. 

It really makes you wonder. Who was in on it? Was it just a random follower that saw her and reported it? Was it an elaborate plan that ended just how Hongjoong wanted it to? Clearly, Hongjoong must have been expecting you to try something. Maybe you had played right into his plan, maybe it was a setup from the get go. 

If it was, though, why the hell hadn’t you considered it? It pisses you off, truly, the hindsight. You were stupid, trying something so fast. It was stupid to involve San, and stupid to think that you would actually be able to pull off an escape. Fuck.

You emerge from your thoughts as you approach the barn, sticking your head in through the open door. “Jongho?” You call out, wondering if he would even respond to you if he heard you. You’d wager not, but you step further inside, anyhow. 

Peering around the corner, you’re not surprised to see him heaving… something into the pig troughs. Looks like food scraps, kind of. He turns at the sound of your voice, a rather disrespectful look of disgust landing on his face once he realizes that it’s you he’s talking to. 

“What.” It’s not a question, rather a statement. He doesn’t stop his work, grabbing another bucket to tip into the feeder. “Where’s your babysitter?” 

Ignoring the actual question, you walk deeper inside, stopping when you’re a few feet from Jongho. The pigs squeak happily as he dumps the new bucket, nudging each other aside in an attempt to be the first to eat. You take a closer look at the trough, the slop making your stomach roll despite how pleased the pigs seem. 

Pulling your eyes away from the scene, you start, “Can we talk?” 

Jongho turns away from you, and for a second you’re sure that he’s going to up and leave. But, no, he simply grabs the last bucket that had been in the row, tipping it into a different trough in the pen. “About what?” 

“Uhm,” is there a delicate enough way to put this? Are you supposed to be like, hey, sorry about your dead girlfriend? You probably should’ve put a little more thought into this before immediately storming off to talk to him, but, ugh! This is Hongjoong’s fault. Everything always is. 

Jongho claps his hands together, dirt flying off of his gloves and into the air. He tugs them off, deliberately pulling at each finger before taking them all the way off, shoving them into a back pocket of his dirtied cargo pants. He sighs, folding his arms over his chest, “You’re wasting my time.” 

Swallowing, you squeeze your hands in front of you, trying to keep yourself steady, “About, uhm, ah,” you clear your throat, but her name still comes out rather meekly, “Haneul?”

He blinks. Once. Twice. And then he’s on you.

He’s able to close the distance you had left between you in seconds, his hands clamping onto your upper arms so hard that you yelp. He doesn’t seem to notice, shaking you as more emotion crosses his face in these few seconds than you’ve seen him display the entire time you’ve known him. 

“Listen very carefully, (Y/n),” he tugs you closer, his hands squeezing tighter, “I’m only going to say this once. If I ever hear her name leave your lips again, I’ll kill you. It’ll be so fast that you won’t even realize you’re dead until you’re squalling as you emerge into your next life. Do you understand?” Jongho’s voice rattles with so much emotion that you have no choice but to believe his threat, nodding your head quickly in response. 

His grip loosens, but he doesn’t fully let you go, “Whatever you wanted to say, keep it to yourself. Don’t think about her, don’t ask other people about her, go back to pretending as if she never existed.” 

“I was just going to—”

“To? To what?”

“To apologize.” You glare up at him, cutting him off before he can start bitching again, “For what happened. Hongjoong is insane. And I’m sorry that someone you cared about was hurt because of him.” 

Jongho scoffs, staring down at you like you just said the most loathsome sentence he’s ever heard (really, he’s just thinking about last night) (how badly he wants to tell you your friend is dead, her body rotting two feet away from where you stand) (how she cried out for you, screamed your name when he grabbed her, capturing her last breath) (how, in his eyes, you deserve a worse punishment than that). 

“I don’t want your pity,” he whispers, his voice still hard, “Get out of here before I tell Hongjoong you’re running around by yourself.” 

He pushes you away from him, sending you stumbling backwards. Your arms pulsate where he had been squeezing you, your arteries working to compensate for the restriction they had been under. 

So much for mending that relationship. Or getting any answers. You probably should’ve anticipated the hostility, but… you are a bit of an optimist. Most of the time. 

You spare one more glance toward the pigs, watching as they continue to devour the scraps. The noises they make alone are enough to make your stomach churn once more, this time with nausea rather than anger or guilt. 

Jongho waits for you to get back to the doors before taking his eyes off of you, needing to know that you’re out of his space before he can relax again. 

Only, right as you step out of the threshold of the barn, you run into a tall frame that you really had not been expecting. 

You look up, already knowing that it will be Mingi’s face staring down at you. 

He doesn’t give you the chance to slip away, latching a hand onto your wrist to pull you back into the barn you had just left. You’re once again stumbling as he leads you back inside, immediately turning a corner into a more secluded part of the barn. 

“What is happening between you and San?”

Oh. So that’s where this is going. For a second there, you had the tiniest scrap of hope that you would be able to have a genuine conversation with him. That, maybe, he would want to apologize to you for, you don’t know, ignoring you for weeks after basically blaming you for not being a mind reader. 

You might be less annoyed if you hadn’t just had this exact conversation with Hongjoong. But to be reminded of the topic so soon has your blood running hot, anger flaring in your chest once more. To defend yourself from Hongjoong is one thing, but Mingi. 

You’ll never get used to it. 

“Really? That’s the first thing you have to say to me after, what, weeks of not speaking?” You scoff, trying to tug your wrist out of his hold to no avail. 

Mingi rolls his eyes. “Just answer the question.” 

“What’s going on between you and Hongjoong?” You ask, looking up at him and hoping you don’t look as small as you feel. “I thought you were scared of him, and now what? You’re doing his dirty work? Detaining our friend?” 

“Haseul is gone. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mingi blinks, his jaw set hard. “Hongjoong is my leader, my guide. He’s my friend, (Y/n). What are you and San? Friends?” He spits this final word, leaning down toward your face.

Had you not been so angry, you might’ve caught the first part. But you want to actually spit on him. How could he think that this is an okay way to talk to you? “I’m not answering that question, Mingi. You don’t get to, to question my relationships with people!” 

Mingi smiles a horrible smile. One that you have never seen. It’s almost a sneer. “You were my friend before his, you remember?”

You yank on your hand again, finally succeeding in getting it free of his grasp. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You stumble backwards, tripping over some loose hay on the floor. “Mingi, please, this isn’t—”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Mingi steps toward you. “If anything, there’s something wrong with you, (Y/n).” 

You shake your head, continuing to back away from him. You’ve never seen Mingi like this. You’ve never known him to act like this. This simply isn’t him. It doesn’t make any sense, you have no idea where this is coming from or why he decided now was the time to reignite the feud between you two. 

“You used to tell me all of your guy problems, remember?” He pouts, reaching a hand out to you. “It can be like old times, (Y/n). Just tell me the truth.” His voice has gone noticeably softer, his tone less serious. You don’t know if he’s manipulating you or not. 

Your back finally hits a wall, the uninsulated metal of the barn freezing cold on your skin. It seeps through your shirt, chilling you to the bone. “Mingi, please listen to me,” you put a hand out, trying to get him to stop advancing on you. “You’re scaring me. You are scaring the shit out of me. Back off, now.” 

Mingi chuckles, stopping in place. He holds his hands up in front of himself, showing off his stop. “I’m sorry, sorry,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “But… Do you think I would hurt you? Really?” 

You want the answer to be no. Desperately. This is fucking Mingi that you’re talking about. You don’t get a chance to respond. 

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “you clearly don’t give a shit about us anymore, anyways. Otherwise, you’d just fucking tell me the truth.” 

You stay pressed flat against the wall behind you, shaking your head at him. How did this happen? How could this happen? Your best friend, the person you came here for, is accusing you of not caring about him, not caring about your relationship. How blind could he be? 

It’s not Mingi talking, you know that. It’s fucking Hongjoong. Hongjoong feeding him bullshit in an attempt to get him to turn on you. And, lucky for him, its working. Perfectly. Your words can’t stand on their own against Hongjoong’s anymore. And he knows that. 

“Do you really want to know, Mingi?” Your voice cracks when you say his name, tears springing into your eyes, “What would it accomplish? Please, tell me why you want to know, and I’ll tell you the truth.” 

He hesitates at that, looking up toward the ceiling of the barn.

“Exactly. You don’t want to know,” you shake your head at him, watching as he kicks at some loose hay by his feet. “Can’t you see what’s happening here?”

Mingi looks back down, frowning. 

“He’s doing this on purpose, Mingi. Hongjoong wants us to hate each other. He wants to take away any semblance of support that we have. He’s trying to tear us apart, and you’re letting him!”

He squints as if he’s confused, looking down at his feet, then. He kicks around some loose hay, not responding. You take the moment to gather yourself, trying to calm your heart. Mingi has never acted so hostile toward you before, you can hardly even believe that this is the same man. 

“I just,” he starts, not looking toward you, “I don’t see why he would do that.” 

You close your eyes, trying to not scream. Has Mingi always been so naive?

No, he hasn’t. This is Hongjoong at work. Gaslighting him into questioning every action taken toward him. Making him confused and hurting him and turning him against you. It honestly makes you want to scream in frustration, the mind games that Hongjoong plays with people.

How could he do this? To innocent people? Play with their minds, turn them into dependent mush? It’s clear that Hongjoong is a monster, a psychopath, someone that gets off on the way that he can manipulate and control people. But seeing it so clearly… in someone you once considered your best friend… 

It makes you hate him more, a thousand times so. You would kill him if you could. 

If— no, when— you get Mingi out of here, will he ever be the same? Will he ever go back to being the Mingi that you once knew? Or will Hongjoong be with him for the rest of his life, manipulating and twisting his thoughts into everything that they’re not? 

Could any amount of therapy turn back time? Any amount of counseling? Medication? 

The sinking feeling in your chest tells you that, no, things will never be the same. 

For the rest of his life, Mingi will have a piece of Hongjoong embedded into his personality. And you’ll have to live with that fact.

When you get out of here, when Hongjoong is in prison or dead or whatever, when he’s out of your life… he won’t be. 

Is that fair? Abusers stick with their victims for their entire lives, but the opposite is rarely ever true. Would Hongjoong spare Mingi a second thought in thirty years, when he’s rotting in a jail cell? You doubt it. But Mingi… there won’t be a day of his life where he doesn’t think about what happened here. About what he suffered. 

“Did I,” he looks up at you after the prolonged silence, “did I really scare you?”

You blink at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, (Y/n).” His voice cracks when he says your name, turning away from you. “Everything is my fault. All of it. You’re here, and now Haseul, and, and,” with each word, his voice gets heavier with emotion. You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s crying. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. For bringing you here, for yelling, for being mad, for scaring you, for everything.” 

You push yourself off of the wall, taking a couple steps to reach out to him. You grab his bicep, gently pulling him to face you. You’re not very successful, only managing to turn him a few centimeters. He still doesn’t look at you.

“You know that I don’t blame you for any of this, Mingi,” the complete opposite is true, in fact. “None of it is your fault.” 

“But it—” Mingi freezes in the middle of his sentence, and you have to peer around him to figure out why. 

San clears his throat when you meet his gaze, awkwardly averting his eyes to the ground. 

Mingi turns back toward you, then, aggressively wiping his cheeks with his palm, as if ashamed for San to see him so. 

“(Y/n), I’ve,” San looks up, biting his lip, “been looking for you everywhere.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. You probably shouldn’t have run off without permission, but you had to take the chance. Still, there is a bit of guilt swimming in you for apparently making San worry. You hadn’t considered…

Mingi’s tears have dried up by the time he turns back toward the other man, “Leave.” 

Your eyes widen with this command, squeezing Mingi’s arm a bit in response. He can’t just… tell San to leave, can he? 

San looks as taken aback as you feel, confusion evident on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“I think you heard me the first time.” 

“Mingi, pleas—”

San cuts you off, “No, no, let him speak.” He holds his hand up to silence you, something that you would never have ever expected him to do to you, “Do you have something you need to say to me, Mingi?” 

“No, he doesn’t. Right, Mingi?” You answer for him, squeezing his arm again in an attempt to keep him grounded. Whatever the fuck San thinks he’s doing right now, you’re not appreciating it. Especially not when Mingi just about yelled at you because of San. There are definitely some choice words that these two could share, but you don’t want to be privy to them. 

Mingi ignores you, a tense smile on his face, “I have a lot of things I could say to you, San. Do you want to start with the way that you’re manipulating (Y/n), or your involvement in what happened yesterday?” 

Now, before this moment, you wouldn’t have said that San is a person inclined to violence. But within seconds he’s ripping Mingi out of your grasp via the front of his shirt, tugging him toward him until their chests are almost touching. “I’m doing no such thing,” the words come out in more of a snarl than anything else, “and I have no idea what you mean by ‘my involvement,’ but I’ll go ahead and tell you to shut your mouth about it, anyways.”

“San!” Your hands are back on both of them before he even finishes his sentence, one on each man. “What the fuck is wro—”

Mingi smirks down at San, once again completely ignoring you, even cutting you off. “Is that so? Why is she so quick to defend your relationship? Why is she keeping secrets from me? How could she possibly like you when you’re the one that lured her here?”

San’s eye literally twitches. “I know you’re in love with her, but this is just pathetic. Aren’t you embarrassed? To be the outsider, here? To know that she never fell for you, but for me despite the mistakes that I’ve made? Despite the ways I’ve wronged her? Does that just crush you? So much so that you have to make up blind accusations against me in an attempt to turn her away?” 

Mingi shakes his arm out of your grasp in the next second, using both of his hands to shove San away from him. San actually falls, landing on his ass in front of Mingi. 

You gasp as Mingi starts yelling, “You don’t know anything about our relationship! Anything that you do know you found out from stalking us! I couldn’t give two shits about her being into you, I care about you hurting her and acting innocent about it!” 

San frowns, and you’re surprised to see his lip quivering. He turns his attention to you, “You know that’s not true, (Y/n). You know that I care about you, that I’d never hurt you.” 

Mingi scoffs, smiling up toward the ceiling of the barn. “You say that you’re not manipulating her, but what’s this? Some crocodile tears and you think she’ll fawn right over you?” He looks down at you, still standing shocked by his side. “You’re not falling for this, are you?”

You look back and forth between San on the ground and Mingi beside you. In all honesty, you’re pissed at both of them equally. This fucking behavior is just childish; the last thing that you need is two people that you care about making you choose sides. 

“(Y/n)?” San’s voice breaks from the floor when you stay quiet. 

“I am not taking sides right now,” you whisper, glaring between the two of them. “You’re both being brats. Have either of you considered that I might value both of you? Or that I am an adult who can make her own decisions?” 

They stay silent, San finally picking himself up off of the ground. 

“You’re both pissing me off equally. I’d appreciate it if you could find it in yourselves to grow up and stop fighting over someone that doesn’t need or want to be fought over.” 

They at least have the decency to look a little ashamed of themselves, both of them looking anywhere but at you or each other. 

“Mingi,” he turns when you say his name, looking hopeful despite what you just said, “I would be happy to hear your genuine concerns about my wellbeing; however, I don’t want the hostility that you’ve shown me today. When you’re calmer, we can talk.” 

Mingi nods his head, “I’m sorry, again.” 

You reach out to touch his arm again, providing what you hope is enough comfort. Even though you’re pissed, Mingi was still in the middle of being vulnerable with you. You’re sorry that you weren’t able to finish that conversation with him. 

Dropping your hand, you take a couple steps to be closer to San, though you fold your arms over your chest as you tip your head toward the entrance of the barn, “Let’s go.” 

You don’t wait for him, opting to just start walking. He catches up quickly enough, though keeping a good two steps behind you. 

There is literally nothing that you can think to say to him. Your thoughts run wild with what just happened.

First, Mingi acting like that toward you? What the fuck was that? Did Hongjoong put him up to it, like you suggested he might’ve? Mingi had never treated you like that before, never… scared you like that before. There’s no way that was… all him. You refuse to believe it.

Having him stand up for you… that’s a whole separate thing. Obviously, Mingi has used his size to intimidate freaks that were bothering you before. He’s stood up for you more times than you can count, letting you use him as a defense mechanism for your entire friendship. He had put his hands on people for you before… but those were complete strangers. Seeing him get physical with San is a different story, not something that you would’ve expected from him. Even if he does genuinely believe that San is manipulating you or whatever, you would’ve thought that he would’ve at least stayed civil, considering your relationship. 

So it’s a surprise that he responded in turn when San engaged. Which in and of itself was shocking to you. 

San is not someone that you would ever peg for physical violence. So seeing him get on Mingi like that… it honestly does freak you out a bit. If San could hide his capacity for that from you, what else could he be capable of without you knowing?

Clearly, he’s an important member of the cult. He’s important to Hongjoong (arguably, considering he apparently wants him dead) and has a rather… disturbing position. San is clearly able to do a lot of things you would consider morally reprehensible with ease… as little as you enjoy that. 

But, seriously, physical violence? That’s so different from what you’ve seen from him in the past.

And, thinking back to what was said… what did Mingi mean about San’s involvement yesterday? He can’t blame San for helping you, can he? For helping Haseul? That’s a good thing that San did, even, if, ultimately, it failed. Haseul may still be locked up in a room, but that’s better than her being dead. It’s better than knowing that you did nothing to try and save her. Mingi must see that, too, right? Unless he genuinely thinks that it is a good thing for another one of your friends to be locked up here, which, you suppose, is a possibility. 

And, Christ, the way San was speaking to Mingi? You’ve never heard such, such awful things from him. There was malice in everything that he said, like he knew just the right things to say to push Mingi’s buttons. Using his feelings for you was low, and calling him pathetic… God, it’s just so weird to hear your San say things like that. Everyone has a mean side to them, a defensive one, but seeing San’s is just so shocking. 

He’s so vulnerable with you, so gentle and so kind. To know that he has the exact opposite persona lurking inside of him as well… 

It’s not exactly comforting.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

When you reach your apartment, you move to head toward the bedroom right away, but San catches you before you can get far, his hand gently grabbing your wrist. “Can I apologize? Or, or explain? Please?” 

You pause, letting him keep his hand on you. As petty as you feel, and as much as you’d like to just ignore him until he learns his lesson… that’s not how adults do things. Especially not adults that live together. 

Sighing, you turn back towards him, nodding slowly.

He also sighs, though in relief, gently guiding you toward the couch. You both sit down, and San takes his hand away from you rather than keeping a hold. 

You wait for him to start, given that he’s the one that wants to explain. 

It takes a few minutes, but he finally does. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, that’s what this boils down to.” 

You blink, waiting for more.

“There isn’t an excuse for, for what I did. I shouldn’t have touched him, but, (Y/n), the way he was speaking to you? Talking about us? Accusing me of terrible, horrible things? I couldn’t just take that. I can forget my own pride, but I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

Yeah, you’re sure that pride has absolutely nothing to do with this. 

“Say something, please?” His eyes sparkle, and you can’t believe that he’s about to be the third man to cry in front of you today. 

You would, but you honestly have no idea what to say. What is there to say when your cult-sponsored fake-boyfriend gets into a physical fight with your lost best friend who also happens to be in love with you? Like, that’s not really something that happens very often. 

“I guess I can understand where you’re coming from,” is what you settle on, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back into the couch, “but I still think you acted completely inappropriately, San. When someone is accusing you of being a bad person, its pretty bold to go ahead and prove them right while trying to prove them wrong.” 

San looks down at his hands, his voice cracking, “you think I’m a bad person?” 

Deep breaths, (Y/n). Deep breaths. 

“That’s not what I meant, San.” 

He starts shaking, and oh, God, you’ve done it now. You do feel bad as he starts whimpering, his hands coming up to shield his face from you. 

“But I am, (Y/n), I am a bad person,” he sobs, “Mingi was right, you’re right, you shouldn’t like me. I’m the reason you’re here, and I’m the reason you’re going through all of this, and I did stalk you guys, and last night and, and—”

Your heart does, perhaps, shatter a little bit upon hearing this. You had wanted to stay strong (angry), but how can you do that when San is weeping in front of you like this? 

Reaching out to him, you wrap an arm around his shoulders to pull him into you. He rests his face in the crook of your neck, quickly folding his arms around you and squeezing you tight to him. 

“San, I’m not angry with you for what you did before you met me, you have to know that.” You curl a hand into his hair, playing with the longer strands at the back of his neck. “And what happened last night— it really isn’t your fault.”

“You really don’t blame me? For any of it?” He whines, and you can envision the pout on his face without needing to see it. "You're too good to me, I don’t deserve your kindness.” 

He might have you with that one, honestly. But you're not going to agree with him, not when he's like this. Maybe if you were a little bit more pissed off. 

Instead, you try to keep comforting him, "I'm the one that doesn't deserve you, San. The things you've done for me since we've gotten to know each other… I can never thank you enough." He sighs as you continue running your fingers through his hair. "Even if you've done wrong, that doesn't make you a bad person. Everyone makes mistakes; it's what we do in the present that matters." 

A few minutes go by in silence, but you don't mind. San calms himself down, though you're sure that you're helping, too. He doesn't move from his spot in your arms, though, keeping his own firmly around you as well. 

"I should apologize to Mingi, shouldn't I?"

You chuckle, thinking it over. "Probably. But not when I'm there.” 

“Probably not,” he mumbles into your neck, pressing a kiss where his lips happen to land. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

San is positively delighted that you suggested he apologize to Mingi without you present. 

A conversation between the two of them is long overdue, and he doesn’t need you to know everything that he has to say to Mingi. 

So, he takes his opportunity during dinner, leaving you with Seonghwa (no matter how wide your eyes get or how betrayed you look) to go off and find Mingi. 

He’s still opting to take his meals in his room, which San finds very convenient. It’s possible that Yunho will be there when he arrives, which would make things a little bit more complicated, but he’s still resolved to have this conversation. 

San knocks on Mingi’s door, and, when he opens it, his shock is evident on his face, “can I help you?” 

San nods, peeking past him into his room, “are you alone? Can I keep you company?” 

Mingi blinks down at him, scoffing. “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

He shrugs, “a bit.” San shoves past Mingi to get into his room, not even flinching when Mingi slams the door shut behind himself. “Do me a favor and tell (Y/n) I apologized to you.”

Mingi crosses his arms over his chest, “why the hell would I lie for you?” 

“I’m sorry.” San smiles, “there, not a lie.” 

“San, just tell me why you’re really here so that I can go back to eating my soup in peace.” Mingi points at the still steaming bowl of soup sitting on his desk. Ugh, San is so glad that he doesn’t live in one of these tiny rooms anymore. He’d go crazy. 

San clenches his jaw, giving Mingi a once over. He hadn’t planned exactly what he was going to say, which probably would’ve made this a lot easier. But maybe it’ll be more fun like this. 

“I just want to make sure that you’re not going to keep trying to give (Y/n) the wrong idea about me.”

Mingi scoffs, “if anything, I’m giving her the right idea about you. You really are a manipulative bastard, you know that, right?” 

He shrugs his shoulders in response, “you’re free to think that way. But it’s not the truth. I genuinely care about her, you know.” 

Mingi rolls his eyes, a single laugh leaving him, “well I feel the same way. And I’m not going to let you hurt her.” 

“Why would I want to hurt her, Mingi? What could I possibly gain from that?” 

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, San.” Mingi uncrosses his arms, clenching his fists at his sides, “but I don’t want you dragging her into it.” 

San laughs, gesturing around Mingi’s room, “she’s already in it! You made sure of that, might I remind you?” 

Mingi looks perplexed, “excuse me? You are the one that brought her here, not me.” 

“You don’t feel bad? That she came looking for you?” 

“As if Hongjoong wouldn’t have found a way for you to get her, anyways.” Mingi frowns, “I’m not stupid. I know that she was the one he was after when he Chose me, that I was the bait for her. She was always going to end up here.” 

San tilts his head, “wow, maybe you are smarter than you look.”

Before Mingi can get another word in, though, San is starting again. “Since you’re so smart, Mingi, I should only have to say this once. Leave (Y/n) alone, especially when it comes to the matter of my relationship with her. Truly, it’s none of your business, and it makes her upset to have to choose between the two of us.” 

Mingi stares blankly back at San.

“And another thing, about Haseul— you should know to not bring that situation up in front of her. I’ll let it go this time, but if I hear about it again, I’ll report it to Hongjoong.” 

He scoffs, “scared that she’ll find out what you did?” 

“I didn’t do anything to Haseul,” San shrugs again, “you’re the one that handed her over to me, anyways. Don’t you think that you���re in the same position as me?” 

“I wouldn’t have given her to you if Hongjoong hadn’t told me to,”

“And I wouldn’t have taken her if he hadn’t told me the same.” San smiles sarcastically, “it seems we’re in agreement, then.” 

Mingi would beg to differ, but he’s really not in the mood for another argument. And his soup is getting cold. “I won’t mention Haseul to her again, and I’ll try to believe that you genuinely care for her. But I won’t trust you implicitly. And, if she ever comes to me, crying because of you, I will kill you.” 

San sticks his hand out, “promise?” 

Mingi takes it, shaking his hand, “promise.” 

← previous || next → || masterlist

[volleychumps]

Heyy! Can you do one where Osamu, kuroo, akaashi and Tsukishima, say something mean to their s/o and their s/o avoids them for days? When they finally get ahold of their s/o, their s/o just sorta cries because it hit their insecure spot? Fluff in the end🥺

Listen, I can’t not write this. 

Irrevocable Words. 

- the one in which they accidentally make you give them the silent treatment because of their lashing out. -

~ Osamu Miya, Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji, and Tsukishima Kei~ 

TW: Cursing, angst to fluff, timeskip! for Osamu, 

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

Osamu Miya

“Those are important files, ya know?” 

“Samu, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me you needed last month’s earnings and I would’ve looked for them before we came this morning.” The hand you tried to settle onto Osamu’s bicep was shaken off as your movements faltered. 

Your voice wobbled at the sight of your stoic fiance, an annoyed glint in his eye as he rummages through his files. Osamu felt a flare in his stomach, a lack of sleep contributing to his impatient state. The day had been a busy one, Osamu deciding that he needed this particular file for his business call tomorrow before the two of you headed home for the night. 

“I told ya not to move anything back to the place.”

“I didn’t.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Here, just let me help-” 

“Don’t touch a goddamn thing, I’ll do it myself.��� There it was. The lashing out that was bound to happen occurred with a pointed tongue as he refused to look at you, rummaging through his file cabinets. “As I do everything else.” 

He closes the cabinet sharply. “The least ya could do is try your best not to be a nuisance-” 

Osamu flinches at the slam of one of the office desk drawers, chest sinking when he sees the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The paper he needed is thrown on the desk carelessly as you shove your jacket on, wetness slipping down your cheeks.

“And I’m not your goddamn secretary. I’m heading home first.” 

“Y/N-” 

“And don’t worry, I promise I’ll manage to do this by myself somehow.” Your voice cracks bitterly, the bell by the door jingling mockingly in Osamu’s ears as you exit, the chef hanging his head with a sigh and regret tinging his chest.

He was wrong to pray this would blow over, not expecting to wake without your warmth by his side. You avoided him on the way to the restaurant, cleaning quietly while giving vague answers to his questions, shifting out of his attempts to embrace you with apologies. 

Deciding to give you space, he softly tells you to take the next few days off, unprepared for the tired look you had given him, simply nodding in response as you slipped into your side of the bed with your back turned to him.

“Where’s your pretty girlfriend?” 

“Fiance.” Osamu forces a smile at his two elderly regulars two days later, the wife’s smile widening at his correction. 

“Oho! Cherish each other while you youths still can, she really does brighten this place up, doesn’t she?” 

You do.

Osamu’s eyes feel hot as he does a messy job of cleaning up the restaurant, closing up shop early and stopping by your favorite bakery to pick up the ridiculously expensive cake he only ever buys for your birthday. 

Throwing the door open to your shared apartment hastily, you gasp at the gray-haired man’s sudden entry, dropping the spoon you were about to use to taste the dish you were making on the stove.

“Samu, y-you’re home early-” 

“What’s all this?” He tries to steady his breaths at the sight of a nicely prepared table, something you hardly ever got to share ever since the night shifts overtook your lives and caused a rift between the two of you. 

You’re silent for a second, looking away from his warm stare as you shift under his gaze. 

“...I miss you.” Dark eyes widen when you begin to hiccup over your words, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “But I didn’t wanna be a nusciance-”

“Oh god, darlin’ no.” You’re pulled tightly into his chest as you cry, whole body shaking with tremors as Osamu’s inner turmoil merely increases.

If Osamu could go back in time and punch himself he would, unknowing of the torment he caused you over the past few days, thinking you just needed space. 

“I want to marry ya Y/N, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you so much Samu.” You sniffle into his chest, causing him to smile softly, a hand sifting through your hair to hold you tighter to him. 

“I brought cake.” 

You laugh through the onslaught of tears. 

“And I made dinner.” 

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” 

“Just hold me like this for awhile?”

“Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, finally feeling at ease with your figure in his arms. Osamu whispers a confession he hardly shared with you, wanting those words in particular to be special as he bridged the gap between the two of you.

“I love ya so much more, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“I said I was sorry!” 

“Is sorry supposed to just fix everything, Tetsurou?” 

“Tetsurou? Are you seriously withholding me from my nickname privileges?” 

You cross your arms at his attempt to make you laugh, thoroughly angry with the mess your boyfriend made of things as his smile fades at your peeved stare. 

“Look, what was I supposed to do?” 

“How about not leaving my parents waiting for you at the restaurant that you invited them to for another one of your spontaneous volleyball practices?” 

“I texted you I had to cancel!” 

“That was a half hour before we were supposed to meet, Kuroo! They were so excited to meet you they got there early. God, why can’t you ever take things seriously?” 

“You’re right.” A bitter chuckle slips Kuroo’s lips as you falter at the sudden tone change, the volleyball gym seeming bigger than ever as his next sentence makes your lips tremble.

“Since I can’t ever take things seriously, then I must not need my serious girlfriend then, right?” Your eyes widen. “I can just find somebody else who won’t fucking hound me all the time.”

His cat-like eyes widen as the words slip his tongue, unintentionally coming out crueler than he intended. To make it worse, you simply stayed silent, your body physically backing down and away from him as you turned on your heel. 

“Wait, I didn’t-” 

“Do it then.” His chest just about shatters as your shoulders tremble, refusing to turn back around as your voice takes on an uncharasterically defeated tone. “I hope they make you fucking happy.” 

Kuroo runs a hand through his raven hair frustratedly at the way you rushed out of the gym, throwing a stray ball so hard at the wall before his vision becomes skewed with heat. 

He should have expected the next week to be utter hell. You left class before he could catch you by escaping to the bathroom with all your things, leaving school another way instead of the exit you always took together before he had to start club activities. 

“Kenma, what are you doing?” 

“You can’t come in here.” 

“I’m missing class for this. Let me through.” 

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Kenma shrugged, eyes on his handheld. “I told her I’d watch the door so you can’t surprise her during our breaktime.” 

“I’m her boyfriend. And you’re not her guarddog.” 

“No, I’m her friend.” Kenma’s eyes narrow at his childhood friend. “And last time I checked, you’re on the search for someone who isn’t her.” 

“So she told you.” 

“Dick move, by the way.” 

Kuroo’s calls go straight to voicemail, his emotions affecting his playing with each passing day. He leaves little notes in your shoe locker to meet him, heart sinking more and more with every time you stood him up. 

And it wasn’t until he saw you smiling again at a joke Yaku made that he truly felt like he was losing you. 

“Go home.” 

The sight wasn’t one you were expecting to see, Kuroo sitting on the steps to your house with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the dark bags under his eyes sparking worry within you. 

“It’s probably better if my parents don’t see you-” 

“I’m sorry.” His eyes seem to have lost a little of their glint, regret swimming in the tall boy’s pupils as your guard softens. “I’m so goddamn sorry I ran my mouth and said shit I didn’t even mean-” 

“Tetsurou-” 

“And I hurt you in the process. I hurt the one thing that matters to me the most, and I’m sitting here playing the creepy ex that stalks the girl he loves-” 

“You love me?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re done with me, and I deserve it-” 

He’s cut off with the sight of tears hitting the wood in front of him, lifting his head to see tears streaking down your cheeks. On instinct, he reaches out softly, rising to his feet to cup your cheek, astonished when you curl into his touch. 

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now.” 

“Noted.” Kuroo laughs somberly, a wave of emotion hitting him as you do something you hadn’t done in days. 

You look him in the eye, tugging him closer by the sides of his jacket. 

“But I love you too, you absolute idiot.” 

Kuroo grins into the kiss you press onto his lips, heart lifting in weight as he pulls you closer. 

“Does this mean we can go back to Tetsu?” 

“I’m going back to ignoring you-” 

“No.” Kuroo’s tone turns serious as he holds you a little tighter. “I can’t do that again.” 

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple lovingly. 

“Being away from you was complete and utter hell, sweetheart.” 

Akaashi Keiji

“Tell me how to make this right.”

“Right, Y/N.” Akaashi refused to meet your eyes as he loosens his school tie, not slowing his pace for you to catch up with as he throws the doors open to the volleyball club. The usually put-together setter had an angry glint in his eye that silenced his awaiting teammates. “Let’s just go back in time before you agreed to be his partner.”

“Hey hey, what’s going on you two?” Bokuto jogs up, his worried tone making your lips tremble even more at the sight of Akaashi’s turned back.

“I came to you as soon as he made a move! I didn’t let him-”

“There shouldn’t have been an opportunity for him to make a move in the first place.” Akaashi’s jaw clenched as you shuffle in place.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, you think I wanted him to try to kiss me?!” You fight the waver in your voice, standing your ground. “It was a project for class. I didn’t know his intentions-“

“I told you what his intentions were, but you never listen.” Akaashi turns hastily, startling you and causing you to stumble slightly backwards into Bokuto.

“Akaashi-“

“Stop defending her. She never listens to me, and then comes crying to me when it turns out I’m right.” Akaashi snips at his best friend, ignoring the silent stares from his quiet teammates. “Why can’t you get it through your head, Y/N? I’m not your goddamn babysitter-“

“You’re right.” You interrupt, fingernails biting into your palms as you choke back a sob. “You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. I just wanted to respect you by coming to you with something like this, but it turns out I’m just a hinderance.”

Akaashi falters for a second, blue eyes widening a fraction at the angry heat that fills your eyes as regret begins to bubble in his stomach at his harsh words.

“Y/N-“

“Give me some space, Keiji.” You say softly, patting Bokuto’s arm to let you through as your shoulders sink in a defeated manner. “I promise I won’t come crying to you about anything else.”

Your steps echo as you walk out of the gym, Konoha breaking the silence first when the door shuts behind you.

“Hate to say it, but that was well-deserved, man.”

Akaashi closes his eyes, head falling back towards the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing, pretending like he wasn’t scared of you slipping through his fingers. He willed himself to not allow himself to chase after you, his anger directed towards you fading as he forces himself to respect your wishes. 

It was obvious you were avoiding him. Akaashi had blinked when Bokuto had self-proclaimed that he needed you as his “study buddy” during breaks when you weren’t even in the same year as the owlish boy. It got worse when you seemed to panic when Akaashi willed you to talk to him, eyes refusing to meet his watery blue ones as you pushed him further away.

So he gave you your space, wilting with each passing day. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you a week later, the setter turning hastily on his heel to walk in the opposite direction before a soft tug on the back of his school shirt wills him to stop. 

“Keiji.” Your wobbly voice makes him turn back around immediately, a soft palm already cupping your cheek gently. “I’m s-” 

“I’m sorry for being cruel.” The words are whispered against your forehead, Akaashi’s heartstrings tugging in the worst way possible. “I was angry at the situation, my love. And that sorry excuse you call a classmate. Please,” 

His grip tightens just a little more as he feels wet warmth drip into the palm that was cupping your face.

“Forgive me.” 

“I told you I wouldn’t come crying to you-” 

“I want it all, Y/N.” Akaashi pulls back slightly, voice cracking slightly as blue stares intensely into your irises. “I want all of you. Tears included.”

You swat his chest playfully as Akaashi manages a soft smile, hand threaded through your hair as he presses you against his chest.

“Do you still need space?” He murmurs, and you smile at the sound of his hearbeat picking up as he awaited your answer fearfully. 

“Nope. The exact opposite, please hold me?” 

His embrace relaxes immediately, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his relieved sigh, his slight nod making the weight lift off your chest. 

“Good, now I can take care of your classmate-” 

“Keiji-”

“Nope, my love.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, Akaashi’s eyes swirling with devotion. 

“No one gets to try anything with you so long as you’re safe with me.” 

Tsukishima Kei 

“So I’m the bad guy again.” 

“Do you want the honest answer, Kei?” You exhaustedly run a hand through your hair as Tsukishima’s scowl deepens, his long legs easily catching up with you in stride as he tugs on your wrist as the rambunctious court gets further and further away. 

“It’s not my fault you’re insecure.” 

You flinch. “Well maybe you shouldn’t let the girls in the stands cling to you after your matches. They were all over you, Tsukki! And you didn’t seem to mind it one bit.” 

“What?” Annoyance brims the blonde’s voice as he takes another step forward, clenching his jaw when he sees the quiver in your lip, distrust filling the atmosphere between the two of you. 

“Afraid that they’re prettier or better than you’ll ever be?” 

You feel as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, breath catching in your throat at his insinuation. His guard slackens almost immediately, clicking his tongue before turning away, too proud to apologize for the words he regretted as soon as they slipped his tongue like venom. 

“Yeah.” You laugh humorlessly, making brown eyes dart over to your expression immediately. “You’re 100% correct. I am afraid you’ll find someone better than me in all aspects. Because I love you, you absolute asshole. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The silence that befalls the two of you in the deserted hall is broken when you flinch away when Tsukishima tries to take a step towards you. 

“I didn’t-” 

“You never mean to do anything, Kei.” You say in a hushed tone, turning your back on him in an attempt to shield the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “But you somehow always manage to.” 

The win for Karasuno didn’t mean much to the blonde that night, hoping that this would just go away and things would be back to normal. However, it was anything but. You didn’t look his way once in class, disappearing when it was over. Your voice trembled as you had avoided his seemingly stoic eyes through his frames, simply stating that you wished for some time away from him. 

He was fine. Or at least pretending to be on the outside. In truth, he would never find better, because you were it for him, words that you would never catch slipping his mouth. So he put on a front, pretending that your absence had zero effect on him whatsoever. Pretending the brush of your body against him in the hall as you pass each other didn’t make the blonde want to cave. 

It was the smile you shot at Hinata during one of your breaks that caused him to. The first glint in your eye in awhile, and it had been caused by him of all people, prompting the tall middle blocker to tug you by the forearm into the corridor.

“Tsukishima-” 

“I hate this.” 

You falter for a second, guard back up in a flash as your back touches the wall. “What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything, and it’s pissing me off.” 

“I don’t follow-” 

“I was wrong.” His forehead touches your shoulder as you stiffen before relaxing against his familiar touch. “I don’t care how many times I have to apologize. You win, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“This is a rather aggressive apology-” 

“Y/N.” Tsukishima lifts his head so it’s level with your height, unprepared for the way tears brimmed your eyes at the proximity, your guard diminishing. 

“What if you do find someone better one day, Tsukki?” Your voice cracks, inner fears trickling to the surface. “Do I need to prepare myself to lose you-?” 

You gasp as Tsukishima’s jaw ticks before kissing you intensely, his hand touching your lower back to pull you closer. 

“No. You don’t need to do something stupid like that.” His eyes were slightly glaring at you, a flush across both his cheeks. “Because there is no one better than you, okay?” 

It was your turn for heat to flood your cheeks as your eyes widen a fraction, his breath tickling your ear as you stutter. “Kei-” 

“I love you too. I said it, are you satisfied now?”  

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla  @faesbae  @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046   @let-me-have-my-own-name  @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite   @curiouslilbeast  @aprettyfruit   @wisepandaslimeland   @h0ngh0ngh0ng   @lmkjimin   @orangegiraffe7   @dai-tsukki-desu   @kac-chowsballs   @spikertrash   @yamaguwuchi   @lord-suneater-explosion   @holaaaf  @babyybokutoakaashi   @lexysclubhouse   @disneyloving-muggle   @kuuuuroo   @theonep1ece  @that-chick212  @mjoork

[dreamcatcherrs]

streamers finding out youre pregnant?

the mcyts reaction to finding out their s/o is pregnant

+ this is a reaction to if you had been wanting to get pregnant, and that you and the specific mcyt had been wanting this for a while. so only fluff, no angst :) I can do an angst version, though?

dream:

after you told him the amazing news his whole face just lit up

he’d lift you up in the air

and spin you around

would set you down and then give you a big fat kiss on the lips

“I’m gonna be a dad?”

you don't think you'd ever seen him that happy before

he’d tell everyone almost immediately

and would want to go out and buy a bunch of baby stuff

just to be ready

would shower with you in the bath tub

with, like, a specific bath bomb you'd mentioned before

and washes your hair for you

always has an eye on you

and doesn't want you lifting heavy stuff

ever

won't let you do anything that contains more work than lifting a finger

very protective over you

georgenotfound:

would be really surprised at first

just imagine the grin on his face

I mean, he would be smiling till his cheeks started aching

pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head

“this is crazy. I just…I can't wait.”

would make sure you go for walks together

because he says then your baby will learn the area quicker

and you explain that the baby can't actually see out of your stomach

but he just brushes it off

will rage eat with you

just buys a bunch of fast foods and eats if with you

whilst simultaneously making sure you're eating all of the right things

he literally has a list of foods you should eat

speaking of lists, he also has a list of names

boy and girl names

he’s just so excited to be a dad

sapnap:

“are you serious?”

would punch the air in happiness

and then hug you tightly

but not too tightly cause he'd be afraid to hurt the baby

even though there wasn't really a baby yet

would take so much care of you

you need a snickers bar?

he’ll buy every single candy in the world

your back is hurting?

he’ll be your personal massager

or he’ll get you one

he’ll take days off just to be with you and the growing baby

LOVES touching your belly bump once you get one

and will definitely be talking to it

and calling the baby “he” because he is so convinced that it's going to be a boy

he’s cute or whatevuh😩

badboyhalo:

“you’re pregnant?!”

immediately gets on his knees and rests his forehead against your stomach

“that’s my little baby in there... I can’t believe it, pumpkin.”

gives you kisses all over your face

he will always remind you of how beautiful you are

and how you have a natural glow to you now that you’re pregnant

and he tells you how much he loves you all the time

and that he’s so excited to have a baby with you

makes sure you’re fed all the time

because now there has to be enough for 2 people

also makes sure not to eat the things you can’t eat during the pregnancy

would do everything for you and always looks out for you

technoblade:

when you told him the happiest smile broke onto his face

techno is a softie when it comes to you

so having a baby?

he is gonna be the sweetest dad is all I can say

hugs you and kisses you

he’s just in awe that he’s gonna be a dad soon

treats you like royalty

even if you're just calling for him because you're hungry

he will stop his stream and be with you for the rest of the day

or for multiple days if that's what you need

he’s still his usual techno self

(and by that I mean he still takes care of you quietly)

but you do feel his stares on you sometimes when you're doing literally nothing

like, even just when you're standing up from the couch once you have a bigger bump

he’ll be ready to be by your side if you need help

afraid you'd fall

very soft (but that’s just a fact we all know)

wilbur soot:

“really? baby, that's great!”

like dream, he’d spin you around

and then gently place a hand on your stomach

and just smile at you

he’d always be smiling

and makes sure you're never uncomfy

would buy you a special soft pillow

so you’d sleep better

he’d almost always have a hand on your bump

or look at it from a distance

wilbur as a dad is just🥺

would probably want a little girl

so he could braid her hair

(even if it looks horrible)

but nonetheless he’s just so happy to be a dad

skeppy:

I could just imagine him screaming “are you serious?”

he would then grab your face in his hands and then just stare at you

until his eyes gazed down at your stomach

he would be panicking

because he didn't know what to do

at the grocery store he would've made a list of things to get you

and would be running around trying to find them

has his eyes on you at all costs

“don't lift that!”

“are you trying to slip and fall?!”

even if you were literally just walking to the fridge

is a little scared about the whole birth thing

but doesn't want to scare you as well

so he just pushes it to the back of his head

because how bad can it really be?

for him, at least

would want to do a gender reveal as a youtube video

but only if you wanted to

very dramatic

but very loving

karl jacobs:

he would have his hand over his mouth when you told him

then starts laughing

“we’re gonna be parents?”

he’s honestly just so speechless

cradles your head in his neck and just smiles

almost cries

almost

he’s gonna be such a great dad

I mean have you see him with tucker?

he’s just so cute (yes, I’m a karl simp)

will rub your feet

or your lower back

or wherever you need to get those muscles loosened up

can get kinda scared sometimes

about the whole dad thing

but feels a lot better after talking to you about it

just like he makes you feel better, you make him feel better as well

buys cute little socks literally 8 months before the due date

bc he thinks they’re cute

fundy:

his surprised expression would slowly turn into a smile

would mumble out something in dutch

before hugging you so tightly

like, you actually had to say you couldn’t breathe for him to let you go

“I’m sorry baby, I’m just so happy!”

buys a bunch of baby stuff… the day after you told him

he just can't wait

always holds your hand during doctor’s appointments

and makes sure you're seated or laying down comfortably

especially once your bump gets big

talks to the baby through your stomach

so they can recognise his voice once you've given birth

always makes sure you feel beautiful

by complimenting you every day

multiple times

because if anything you look more beautiful than ever

will brush your hair

and brush his fingers through your hair

makes sure you feel loved all the time

quackity:

panic

as in pre-parental panic

but quickly recovers and tells you how fucking great it is that you're gonna have a baby together

and that he just can't believe he’s gonna have an actual baby with you

you bet he’ll be looking up tips for being a dad

he wants to do everything perfectly

and tries his very best to be there for you

does all of the chores

and still makes time for you

you'd get worried about him overworking himself

but when you tried to help him

he’d just make you sit down again

“you're not doing any work. too dangerous for little q.”

you'd accomplished making him stop doing all the work by luring him over with cuddles

he’d get you any food you wanted

fast food, healthy food

whatever you wanted, as long as you're always full, he’s happy

punz:

“really? you're serious?”

mans’ smile is brighter than the sun

pulls your shirt up to kiss your stomach all over

and then rests his hands on your hips and kisses you gently

“you're gonna be the best mom, you know that?”

like dream, he gets very protective of you

won't even let you get something that you can't reach by an inch

never drinks any liquor or coffee while you’re pregnant

because he knows you can't

highkey really loves your big bump

and tells you all the time

as well as how sexy you are

and will stay up late until you fall asleep

especially on those nights where it seems unbearable for you to fall asleep

the two of you would paint the room for the baby together after the gender was revealed

and then buy furniture that matches the room

he’d suggest exercises you could do for pain relief he’d seen on the internet

and even do them with you if that’s what you wanted

anything to make you happy

awesamdude:

HE’S SO HAPPY OMG

would cry if he wasn't so fucking excited

squeezes your hand

while putting a hand on your stomach

he can't wait to see the growth

he wants you to feel absolutely no stress

because he can't imagine the amount of emotions you must already feel with your baby growing inside of you

so he does everything for you to avoid that

and if you do feel stressed he suggests cuddles

then yoga for pregnant women

and then more cuddles

cooks delicious food for you

and buys cute little outfits for the baby

and tiny little shoes🥺

eret:

picks you up right then and kisses you

all over the place

“holy fuck, y/n. this is just… I’m so fucking happy right now.”

does literally EVERYTHING for you

laundry? he’s got it

dinner? he’s got it

waking up early because you can't sleep and then massages your shoulders because he's an absolute sweetheart? yep, he’s got it

fucking loves everything about you being pregnant

but he’s sure you don't like it just as much

I mean, you're the one who’s carrying a literal baby

so he believes it gets pretty goddamn hard for you sometimes

and therefore takes many breaks from streaming

just to hang out with you

you’d go to baby furniture stores together

until you found the perfect things

feeds you loads of chocolate

or ice cream

whatever you want, really

he discovers that he fucking loves pregnancy

hope you enjoyed this! never written something like this before, but it got me all soft…

________________________________

tag list✰

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[anonymous-dentist]

Test Run #1 of the Vigilante AU! There’s actually going to be two more of these, and this is a very much unedited, just written stream-of-thought kind of deal. 

But this one is from Quackity’s pov! So! 

-

So there’s a bakery downtown that makes the world’s worst baked goods. Like, you go in and you come out with some kind of disease. The only edible things are the muffins, and even those depend on who’s working that day. If it’s the owner, you’re guaranteed the whole-grain equivalent of an orgasm in your mouth and you’re walking on air for the rest of the day? If it’s his son? 

Oh, if it’s his son… 

“Why do you come here if you hate it so much?” Tommy asks. 

Tommy, wisely, did not order anything upon walking in and despite the man behind the counter’s insistence on force-feeding the both of them salmonella. He has a sandwich from the lunch his brother packed him that morning before sending him off to school, school that Tommy is currently skipping in favor of hanging out with Quackity. 

Quackity, the biggest idiot in S City, has a slice of what’s probably supposed to be apple pie in front of him that he hasn’t touched. 

It’s been twenty minutes since they’ve sat down. The man behind the counter keeps sending confused, vaguely-hurt glances at them. Quackity feels a little bad. 

He shrugs and gingerly pokes his pie with the prongs of his fork. The pie jiggles discomfitingly. He swears that it breathes, God, what the fuck? 

It’s eleven in the morning, and Quackity is running on four hours of sleep and enough spite to kill a horse. There’s a knife up his sleeve and a gun holstered away under his jacket and a set of lockpicks in the sole of his shoe. In half an hour, he has a date with the bank three blocks away that he can’t miss. He should probably be preparing for that. Both he and Tommy should be preparing for that, but, no, he can’t actually leave the bakery until… 

The bell above the door tingles, and Quackity forces himself to not turn around and watch the main event walk in. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the bakery owner’s son perk up, smiling like an idiot. 

Quackity leans across the table and steals Tommy’s sandwich out of his hand, laughing as Tommy squawks like a bird in protest. 

He uses the noise to cover up a whispered, “That’s Karl Jacobs, the news guy.”

Tommy’s eyes widen in realization, an excited grin starting to cross his face. 

Quackity leans back in his seat and takes a big bite out of Tommy’s sandwich feeling more confident than he has in weeks. 

-

Up-and-coming vigilante Big Man (name pending) reportedly has the same powers as disgraced hero-wannabe Soot. This is a factual error that Quackity is intent on rectifying. As Big Man’s unofficial manager, he has a couple of goals. 

One: Change Big Man’s goddamn name. How is anyone supposed to take a vigilante named “Big Man” seriously? 

Two: Boost Big Man’s reputation. The kid’s stuck in his brother’s shadow, for better or for worse. 

Three: Teach Big Man how to throw a goddamn punch. He’s good with a knife, but he’s just going to get labeled a villain if he keeps stabbing the criminals he’s trying to catch. 

Quackity walks into the bank with his hood up, a baseball cap on, and a bright red surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of neon pink sunglasses he swiped out of a woman’s purse on the street outside. 

He waits in line patiently. It’s the lunch rush, so there are maybe more people in the bank than he’d like there to be. It’s fine. He accounted for this. The piece in his ear crackles as Tommy connects to it from his spot on the roof of the office building opposite the bank. 

“You’re good?” Tommy asks, voice like static through the filter he’s got built into his stupid-looking mask. “All ready?”

Quackity pulls out a burner phone from his pocket and puts it to his ear, pretending to be on a call. Nobody cares, but it’s better than looking like he’s talking to himself in the middle of a bank in S City Central. 

“Hi!” he chirps, making his voice a direct parrot of a man he’d heard talking on the subway that morning on his way to get Tommy. “Yeah, sorry, it’s taking longer than I’d expected.” He gets up on his toes and cranes his neck. “Uuuuh, two more minutes? Then I’ll be on my way. Promise.”

“Ugh,” Tommy groans. “This is boring!”

“You’re the one that wanted the job,” Quackity replies. “I told you, don’t go into accounting if you aren’t ready to deal with a ton of dull bullshit.”

“You sound like a horny Valorant player. The fuck is that voice you’re doing?”

“Hm?” Quackity pretends that he doesn’t hear him. Fucker. He shuffles ahead a few paces as the person at the window immediately ahead of him finishes their business and leaves. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Hey, it’s my turn. I’ll call you back later, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Bruise me and I’ll throw you off a roof again.”

Quackity shoves his phone into his pocket just as he gets to the counter. He smiles at the poor underpaid clerk, not that she can see it. 

“Hey,” he sweetly says. “Sorry about this. Really.”

The clerk rolls her eyes and pops her gum. “It’s no problem, really. Deposit or withdrawal?”

Quackity pulls the gun out from the inside of his coat and says, “Withdrawal, please, all you’ve got.”

The clerk’s eyes widen comically and she shoots her arms towards the ceiling in immediate surrender. Really, she should’ve known better than to expect a calm day working at a bank in this city. Doing finance is basically a death sentence. Minimum wage is not worth it. 

Everyone starts screaming and freaking out, because everyone in this bank is a fucking idiot except for him, and all it does is annoy him. Oh, he’s going to have such a headache after this... 

Based on personal experience, it should take less than five seconds for one of the other clerks to press the panic button. Ten minutes until the police arrive. Two until Tommy does. 

And so Quackity stands there calmly pointing an empty gun at a terrified girl, feeling nothing but a vague sense of urgent casualness that he’s long since grown used to. This isn’t his first rodeo. He and Tommy have been at this for a couple of weeks now, basically whenever Tommy knows he can get out of school for the day. (It isn’t like Quackity has anything else going on in his life right now…)

Big Man crashes through the front doors right on cue, eight feet tall and wielding a homemade staff made from lead piping and neon orange duct tape. 

“The fuck are you supposed to be?” Quackity laughs, sizing Tommy up. “The jolly red giant?”

“I’m your worst nightmare, bitch,” Tommy snarks, and then he lunges at Quackity swinging his staff and obviously grinning madly behind his mask. 

They really need to work on his one-liners. 

Quackity ducks effortlessly. The bigger Big Man is, the slower he is, they both know this, and they both planned on this. Tommy’s swing goes wide, maybe a bit too wide. Maybe a bit too obvious. Oops? 

But then Tommy shrinks down to less than a meter tall and lunges for Quackity’s kneecaps and any and all plans go out the fucking window. 

Quackity screeches as Tommy pulls down on his legs. He falls to the floor right on top of Tommy. Tommy flashes up to his actual height and flips them over. Quackity lands right on his wings; he stifles a scream. Tommy straddles him lands a punch that breaks Quackity’s sunglasses right in half. Quackity glares up at him as the pieces fall to the ground on either side of him. 

“Those were expensive, man!” he snaps. 

He sits up in a flash and headbutts Tommy, flinching. Tommy grunts and falls back onto his ass. Fucking deserved it, asshole. 

There are sirens, and they’re getting close, so maybe it’s time to go. Maybe. 

Quackity looks up and sees Karl Jacobs of The Tales pushing his way through the panicked mass of idiot civilians rushing its way out of the building with his camera up and shooting. Yeah, it’s time to go. 

“Smile for the camera,” Quackity whispers. 

Tommy nods imperceptibly. His face then hardens and he tackles Quackity back to the ground. Quackity huffs and scrambles out of his noodle-like grip, hopping to his feet and taking off towards the large bay windows. He elbows someone to the ground- oh, fuck, it’s Jacobs. He looks down at Jacobs and remembers that his sunglasses are off just a tad too late. 

And then Tommy is tackling him through the window. They both land outside on the sidewalk in a pile of limbs. Quackity squirms his way free easily and gives Tommy a light kick to the side before taking off in a rather leisurely jog away from the chaos, ducking into the crowd forming and shedding his coat and holster and hat and mask in the process. 

His wings twitch in the sudden breeze he’s allowed them to feel. He winces in pain. 

Well. That could have gone better.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 01

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: violence, dark themes, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

SUMMARY: she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and a misunderstanding dooms her to a life as an ascendance card under the watch of the executer.

A/N: i’m so excited to go back to my mob writing roots with this one. there’s a bit of a few twists and changes to the traditional mob writing i’ve done before and i am really excited to be sharing chapter one with you. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER 

The ambience was dark, badly lit by the yellow flickering lights in the halls with echoes of the buzzing of the hot old light bulbs. There was no sound but that buzz and the heavy sound of his boots hitting the rotting wood floor boards. The scent in the air was putrid, a mix of what seemed like life meeting its end stage, cheap cider and weed. It was definitely different and he didn’t trust it. 

At the end of the corridor there it was. 107. The 107th flat in purgatory with the door slightly opened. He pushed the door open, the smell getting more intense and his boots sticky with the liquor spilled on the floor. 

     - What did you do? - each word was punctuated with intense disbelief, as if this was all a nightmare. 

     - Bucky, help me!

PRESENT

The wind brushed and pulled her hair into different directions as she stepped off the train’s step. She rushed through the streets of New York, hair pin stuck in the middle of her teeth as she fought the winds to try and set her hair into an appropriate hair do while running down the street at the same time. The chattering people and the sun peaking through the clouds was hopeful as she grabbed her coffee from the same vendor off the side street as her eyes gazed upon the Metropolitan Opera House which had been gracing the New York landscape for longer than she had been on this earth and now she was part of it, she was a small speck in an almost 60 year long history. 

Her smiled widened as her sneakers hit the pavement, eyes gazing over the fountain and the flags of the production coming down from the opera house’s arches. The same production she was part off. Sure, she was a chorus girl but the mere thought of singing on that stage, of watching that public in those red velvet seats under the chandelier just made it all more exciting. She walked inside the theatre through the stage door, meeting the manager at the door. 

     - Hi. - she leaned her hands against the desk where the manager was surrounded by attendance and cast sheets as well as a big laptop shining a blue light onto her face. The woman didn’t even look up, instead putting up a board with the names of all people in the production in front of her. - Do you need to see my ID? 

     - Just sign in front of your name. 

Y/N giddily looked at the list of names, hers closer to the bottom but there, written in bold Arial font. She signed her name in front of her printed one with the barely working pen, before pinning it over the board and handing it over to the manager who pointed inside the opera theatre. She held onto her gym bag harshly, padding the sublime floors and looking around with such wonder one would believe she’d never been here. She’d been here before, she was here every month to watch a performance but now she was not guest, she was not just another person walking in with a ticket, she was part of it, she was part of the show. After years of doing community plays, workshops and failed auditions, she had gotten here and suddenly all those days spent in bed feeling miserable in bed after getting rejected yet again didn’t matter anymore she was here.

Her eyes glanced at every tiny little ornament in the opera house until she entered the theatre room. Her heart filled with joy and happy nostalgia as the red and golden tones of the room involved her. There wasn’t anyone in the theatre yet except for a few musicians from the instrumental pit and some cleaners so she was free to roam around. Her fingers traced the suede velvet of the red seats, finding a few missing binoculars on the grounds but not really caring. 

     - You! - she whipped her head towards the voice which came from a woman, probably in her mid 40s all dressed in black with a gold name tag slightly above her left breast. 

     - Hi. - Y/N smiled, extending her hand towards the woman. - I’m Y/N, I’m the new ...

    - I don’t care, we need silk ribbons, now. 

    - Oh, I ... I’m new, I don’t know where I’d get silk ribbons, m’am.

    - The costume room? Go, stop looking at me as if you were Bambi and go.

    - Oh, okay. 

She made her way hastily out of the theatre room wondering how she was going to find silk ribbons, where she was going to find them and why she had to find them. Maybe it was a hazing ritual for new people, after all, she had been into various hazings during her career, including downing a whole bottle of honey which she couldn’t even finish, only eating one fourth of it before becoming nauseous. 

She stopped in the middle of the hall, wondering where the costume room could be. It couldn’t be on the top floor, that was usually where the bars and common rooms were so if the building followed regular construction protocols for opera houses, it was probably on the underground section of the house where the dressing rooms used to be. Y/N ventured into the lift, pressing the lowest number on the number chart of the panel until she reached the underground floor. Y/N looked around, people running in and out yet no one stopped whenever she tried to question where the costume room was. She had managed to find the costume shop but no luck finding the costume room until she was pretty much pressed against a dark door with those exact words by the passing crowd. 

She twisted the knob of the costume room door, tumbling onto the dark room as a result. The room was filled to the brim with costumes on each side of the room, a plexiglass divider between the two sides which stopped every meter or so and also appeared to be divided onto female and male costumes with the ensemble costumes at the back. She padded across the concrete floors, looking through dresses and accessories for ribbons but no successful attempt. The ruffling from the other side of the room had her turning around, forehead furrowed as she walked towards the plexiglass divider. 

     - Hello? - she questioned, wondering if there was someone in this room who could help her find silk ribbons. Great, she had barely joined the company and was already screwing up. Great, Y/N. Way to go, Y/N. 

She saw someone all dressed in black just like the women before, yet there seemed to be something which didn’t match up; black jeans, black shirt and black leathe jacket as well as a pair of also black boots, scruffed and probably entirely too old to still be holding up together. Her eyes caught his which despite the low almost non existent light of the costume room, were light, a sort of greyish blue like the calm sea before of storm. His gaze pulled hers in, like gravity and she couldn’t help but clutch the jacket next to her as a bad feeling along with something she’d never felt before settled in her stomach. 

His hair was mostly pushed back yet the ones which framed his face fell like dominos. She moved along the side where she was to one of the plexiglass gaps and he did the same still maintaining eye contact with her, until the two reached the gap. She didn’t notice she was holding her breathe in until she breathed out.

    - Hi. - her own hand gripped her wrist, shoe grinding against the floors. - Uhm, I’m new here and this lady sent me down to find some silk ribbons but I can’t find any. Do you ...

    - I... uh ... I don’t know where they are. - he faltered for a few seconds before regaining his posture.

    - Oh, I thought since you were here, you might be one of the stage managers. 

    - I’m not. - his tone was monotonous, almost as if he had the answer to her question before she even made it. 

    - Oh ... - she rubbed her neck. - Are you also looking for silk ribbons?

    - I’m looking for the dressing rooms, actually.

    - They’re down the hall. -  she pointed at the door as if it was the “down the hall”. - Hum ... Are you new here too?

    - Yeah. Thanks. - he walked towards the door, opening it and stepping out before catching her gaze once again. 

Y/N remained in the middle of the room as if she were in a transe and maybe she was. It felt like she was falling yet she was firm on her feet and she did not like that feeling. She did not like that feeling of falling, it wasn’t feeling, it was hopeless falling and she wondered why looking at a man who looked like an 80′s glam rock reject made her feel like that, so lost. Maybe it was the respect he appeared to command by merely looking at her or maybe it was the nerves about being new and not being able to find some goddamn silk ribbons. Damn it. 

    - Call for 30 minutes before dress rehearsal. - the voice came from the intercom and immediately her mind dropped the idea of finding silk ribbons and moved to finding the ensemble dressing room and get dressed and ready. Damn it, this was going well. 

She rushed down the hall, bag almost slipping off her shoulder until she saw the door with the ensemble plaque on it. The young woman peaked inside the room where pretty much everyone with a role on the ensemble were already sat down. She shyly walked in the middle row until she found her own little corner, her name written on a sticker on the mirror along with photos of how the makeup should be done as well as how to get the costume in correctly. The same goofy smile returned as she sat down and saw her name above her. It was fine, she was here, she was part of a company.

    - Hey you’re new. - the girl next to her twirled her chair to face her. She already had her makeup on and hair pinned curled up and ready to put a wig cap on. - I’m Elliot but people call me Elle.

    - Y/N, I’m the new chorus girl. First day. 

    - Aw, welcome. - she had a bright smile, inviting and almost as exciting as the whole experience of being there. - Do you want help pincurling your hair? I can get it done while you do your makeup. 

    - Yes, please. - she pulled out a big box from her bag which had all her makeup and pins. 

Elle started pin curling her hair up while she put an inappropriate amount of blush on which was just appropriate to get on stage under the bright yellow lights. Turns out half the practice for opera is learning to do your makeup under bright yellow lights and then learning to sing. 10 minutes to rehearsal start, she was along with Elle going down and up to the main stage where most dancers were warming up. Elle left her to do so, leaving Y/N once again to just stand there, looking around like a little sheep in the middle of wolves. 

    - I’ve never seen you around. - her shoulders almost went up as he turned to see one of the principal sopranos, if not the principal soprano. She had seen all of her shows ever since she was a teenager and she had even wrote an essay for university on her for a module. Catherine Vargas, the best New York could offer, if not the best the world could offer. - I didn’t know they were still casting dancers.

    - Oh, I’m a chorus girl, Mrs Vargas. 

    - A chorus girl? - she furrowed her brows at her, looking her up and down. - What type?

    - The type who ... is in the back with the ensemble. - her voice lowered at least a few volumes down, back curved as if she were bowing. 

    - I know what chorus girls do. I asked what vocal type. 

    - Lyric soprano, m’am.

    - A lyric soprano in the chorus. Interesting. Where did you train?

    - Julliard, m’am.

    - Julliard? - she looked her up and down again. - That is a great school. What is a Julliard graduate doing in the chorus line?

    - Everyone starts somewhere. - she laughed nervously, scratching her arm as she did so.

    - Not a lyric soprano from Julliard. Composers sure do love an ingenue, don’t they? Don’t worry, a few months with me and you’ll be supporting. 

    - That’s ... that’s really kind, Mrs. Vargas. Thank you.

    - Don’t thank me. Could you get me some honey from my dressing room? I’m feeling a bit strained. 

    - It’s 5 minutes until rehearsal starts.

    - It’s okay, chorus normally doesn’t do much during rehearsal. Can you get it?

    - Yeah, I think so.

She straightened her crinkled skirt, looking behind her back before going down the stairs which led down to the dressing rooms. This was good, right? Getting into one of the main star’s good graces besides she was right, the chorus didn’t really get much attention during rehearsals, at least not as much as the main characters. It’s easier to get away with screwing up in the back than in the front, her teacher would tell her which would always earn a few laughs from her colleagues. Yet, Y/N hated to make any mistakes. She would stay up all night in front of a cheap piano she had bought from a charity shop, playing and singing the same 5 note progression until her flatmate yelled at her to shut up. For her, if it wasn’t perfect and if she didn’t get any criticism while performing it, she hadn’t done it right. It didn’t matter at the end of the day but what did matter was to climb up the ladder. She didn’t want to be a star, all she wanted was to be able to be on that stage forever with the spotlight shining on her and she knew there was only one way to climb up. Actually there were two, extreme luck and connections. Now, she didn’t have the best of luck so her major choice was to make connections and reach that status. 

She made her way into the principal dressing room. It was probably one of the biggest she had ever seen, with expensive decor and various flowers covering it. She wondered how many flowers she received on opening nights if that was the number she had on regular days. Y/N made her way to the desk, opening drawers and more drawers to find honey until she found it on the lowest drawn. She went down on her knees to grab it, mindless and careless to everything that was happening until she felt a sharp pain on the side of her her.

Then everything went dark. 

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying @buckyswillows @blossomslibrary @juliesland @iloveshawnieboi @unmagically​ 

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Pairing: idol!jaehyun x idol!f. reader

Special appearances: members of Itzy, members of 127

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: angry sex (jaehyun is a bit of an ass, sorry), unprotected sex, rough sex, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple positions, overstimulation, spanking, choking

Word count: 3k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 @mrg-jjh @keeach @the-universe-in-you-jjh @nootnoot-yoonoh @winniet @jaejoongiewifey-blog @iknowyuno​ @10chitaphrr @tamakikaname​ @ellethereal00 @michplusb​ (send me a message/ask if you want to be tagged in future fics)

A/N: this was a request sent by a lovely anon, i’m so sorry that i got carried away with this lol (and i hope it was what you wanted! apologies to members of itzy :)

“Jaehyun, could you take a picture of us?”

You handed your phone to him, smiling sweetly as you took up position with your members in front of the heritage building. Both of your groups were on tour together, which you were elated about because you and Jaehyun were secretly dating, only that Jaehyun insisted on pretending to be mortal enemies whenever a camera was around. It was a good ploy, he had explained to you, it would throw people off and make them think that you hated each other.

Except that sometimes it worked too well.

He took your phone from you, smirking the entire time, an evil glint in his eye. You knew that look, but you could only smile woodenly as cameras were filming all around you. He took a few steps back, raised your phone up, and you and your members posed as you waited for him to take a picture.

“Smile!” he said, clicking away, but you noticed that two of his members had joined him, standing beside him and making funny faces. When he was done he showed the phone to them and they all laughed hysterically, before walking away to join the rest of the group. Jaehyun handed your phone back to you, a wide grin on his face, a camera trailing him.

“Hope you like them,” he shrugged, “they’re not my best work.”

You took your phone from him, scrolling through the pictures, your members crowding around you to see.

“Hey, those aren’t of us!” Lia pouted, as you scrolled through picture after picture of Jaehyun, Mark, and Winwin. He’d obviously taken selfies while pretending to take pictures of you and your members. You looked up at Jaehyun, his eyes practically dancing with mischief.

“Jaehyun,” you sighed exasperatedly, and it wasn’t for show. “I asked you to take pictures of us.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he jabbed you lightly in the shoulder, “it was just a joke.”

“Well it’s not funny! I wanted pictures with my friends!” you fought to keep your tone level, keenly aware of the staff holding up cameras to your faces.

“What’s the big deal, it’s just a picture,” he said lazily, “I’m sure you have a billion pictures of yourselves.”

“That’s not the point!” you shot back, and you could feel Yeji tugging at your arm. “I wanted a picture in front of this building!”

“Fine! Give me your phone back and I’ll take it!” he yelled back.

“I don’t trust you anymore! You’ll probably take more selfies of your pompous ass!”

Ryujin suddenly jumped in front of the cameras. “Okay, cut!” she yelled, waving her hands in front of the cameras nervously. The staff just chuckled, and as they walked away you could hear them saying the footage was perfect. Jaehyun smiled.

“Good job,” he leaned in and whispered to you, before he walked away to find his members.

You were left seething, your anger very real. Yeji patted you on the shoulder.

“Don’t let him get to you,” she said soothingly, “he’s obviously doing it to rile you up, and it’s working. Either that, or he has a crush on you.”

She winked at you and walked away, and suddenly you had a pang of guilt that you were keeping your relationship a secret from her. Lia was the only one who knew, as your roommate she had to keep your secrets.

“That worked well,” she said, coming up to you and putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Too well,” you grumbled.

---

“And this is where we get ready for the concert.”

You were filming with a staff member, showing them around the concert hall backstage. As you walked by a doorway, you saw Jaehyun standing in the room, talking to another member. But as soon as he noticed you, a camera trailing behind you, he suddenly grabbed a towel that was draped over a nearby chair and pulled it in front of him.

“What are you doing, Y/N?!” he feigned shock, “some of us aren’t decent!”

You panicked for a second, but you saw that he was fully clothed behind the towel. “Very funny, Jaehyun.” You rolled your eyes at him.

He just snickered, and you were about to walk away but the staff member lingered in the doorway, pointing the camera at Jaehyun, hinting to you to continue your conversation. You sighed and entered the room.

“So are you ready for the concert tonight?” you asked Jaehyun, putting on your best interviewer voice.

“I’m always ready, Y/N,” he said with ease, smiling sweetly at the camera so that his dimples came out. “How about you, hm? I heard an awful lot of noise coming from your hotel rooms last night, hope you weren’t up too late partying.” He furrowed his brows at you, feigning concern.

You felt the blood rising to your face. “We were not partying.” Again you tried to control your tone, remembering Yeji’s words, but he was really pushing your buttons.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” he said, putting a finger to his lips and winking at the camera.

“Jaehyun, I told you, we were not partying!” you knew you were raising your voice, but you really couldn’t help it. Behind the camera, you saw the staff member smiling.

“Whatever you were doing, I just hope it doesn’t compromise your performance, that’s all.” He shrugged, putting his in-ears in and adjusting his mic, as the staff signaled for his group to head up to the stage.

You wanted to scream but he just walked by you, saying some last words to the camera before he headed up to the stage.

---

You hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together as you had wanted, most of your time spent in practice and preparation for the concerts. Your free time never seemed to match up with his, and whenever you could see him there always seemed to be cameras around filming everything. It made you annoyed and frustrated, and by the time the tour was winding down your mood was downright foul.

It was the last night of the tour and you were in your room resting, when Lia burst in.

“I just saw Jaehyun downstairs in the cafe, and he was alone!” she pulled you by the arm, and you barely had a moment to put your shoes on. “Go!” she yelled, pushing you out the door.

You made your way down to the cafe, excited that you would be able to have some alone time with him, but then you wondered why he hadn’t told you he had some free time, so you could spend it together. You figured he must’ve had a good reason, and just shrugged it off. When you caught sight of him, sitting alone in a corner of the cafe, your heart did a flip. Excitedly you ran up to him and slipped into the seat opposite him. He looked up in surprise.

“Y/N?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” you scolded him playfully, reaching to grab a piece of the croissant on his plate. He slapped your hand away.

“Because then you’d steal my food like that!” He looked at you with a stern face, and you thought he was joking, but his face didn’t change. 

You rubbed your hand where he’d slapped it. “Jaehyun?”

“I didn’t invite you here, Y/N, don’t you have some partying to do or something?”

You were blindsided. Tears sprang to your eyes, your face feeling hot. “What- what are you talking about?”

He suddenly started motioning with eyes, looking to his right side repeatedly, and when you finally got the hint you looked over. There was a staff member at the next table, a camera pointed at the two of you. You had completely missed them when you first walked into the room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You slammed your hands down on the table. Jaehyun’s eyes widened, looking at the staff member out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t care, you’d had it.

“You can’t keep acting like a shithead just because there are cameras around!”

He looked affronted. “Me? Are you calling me a shithead?”

“You’re rude, and you’re mean, and you’re full of yourself!”

“Oh yeah? Well you’re a goddamn princess, and you need to learn how to take a joke!”

“I can take a joke, if it’s funny! And you’re not funny!”

“Well you’re not as hot as you think you are!”

You suddenly stood, your face burning up. “Why you-”

Jaehyun stood up too, signaling to the staff member to cut the camera. He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out of the cafe. “Come with me.”

---

The ride up the elevator was silent, Jaehyun never letting go of your arm. You were still seething, and once you got to your floor you tried to wrench your arm out of his grasp, but he held fast.

“Stop fighting,” he snarled, gripping your arm harder. You winced at the tightness of his grip, but could barely do anything about it with the way he was pulling you along.

“Let go of me!” you seethed, but you could barely catch your breath keeping up with his long strides. He didn’t answer you, just swiped his card to open the door to his room, dragging you in. Once the door closed behind you, you finally succeeded in pulling your arm free, giving him a hard shove.

“How dare you!” you started, your voice dripping with anger, “I’ve had it with you embarrassing me in front of the cameras!”

He towered over you, getting in your face, his eyes hard. “You need to get a sense of humor, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that!” you were furious, unable to think straight, “Don’t ever call me that again!”

“Or what?” he suddenly got closer, his nose almost touching yours, the faint scent of coffee on his breath. His body was almost right against yours so you involuntarily took a step back, right into the wall. He had you trapped, his arms coming up to cage you in. “What are you going to do about it?”

You wanted to shove him, kick him in the groin, run out of there, but instead you fisted your hands in his shirt and crashed your lips against his.

He kissed you hard, his lips unrelenting, your tongues and teeth clashing. You kissed him just as hard, channeling all of your anger and making him feel it. You pulled and grabbed at his shirt, and he pressed his body harder against you, shoving his knee between your legs.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he said, breaking the kiss to suck harshly on your neck.

“Fuck you,” was all you were able to get out, because he was rubbing his knee against your core, your panties getting wetter the more he moved.

“You’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you,” he growled, his hands going to your hips, fingers digging in.

“You wish,” you responded sarcastically, tugging at his shirt to get him to take it off. Once he pulled it off you rubbed your hands all over his chest and abs, but he suddenly grabbed your wrists, pinning your arms to the wall.

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head at you, “I don’t think so, sweetheart. You need to take your punishment.” He leaned forward to kiss you but you turned your head, anger bubbling up inside of you at the pet name. He just attacked your neck instead, sucking so hard on your skin it took your breath away, and you were instantly glad you didn’t have any more concerts because the make-up artists would have had a hell of a time trying to cover up the marks he was giving you.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” you said, trying not to moan but he’d gone back to rubbing your crotch with his knee. You bit your lip as he kept at it, but then he suddenly picked you up and carried you to the bed, dropping you on it before he stepped back and started taking off his pants.

“Take off your clothes,” his voice was low, commanding, leaving no room for debate. You decided not to make it easy for him.

“Fuck you.”

His eyes narrowed, his upper lip twitching. You smiled, but it was the wrong thing to do. Suddenly he was on top of you, his full weight pushing you down onto the bed. His hands seemed to be everywhere, under your shirt, over your bra, down your pants. The rough way he was handling you was so arousing that your breath was coming in short gasps, heat rising through your body.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he growled, leaving a trail of marks down your chest as he rubbed a nipple over the fabric of your bra. You were panting so hard you could barely breathe, but you knew exactly how you wanted this to go.

“Hard.”

He barely reacted to your answer, but you thought you could see a hint of a smirk on his face. He paused only briefly, catching your eye as if to say you could still stop this if you wanted to, but you didn’t move, just stared him down. In a flurry your clothes were practically being ripped off your body, and when he got to your panties, he actually did rip them, taking a hold of them and tearing them at the seam. When you were finally naked on the bed he pushed your knees apart and settled his face between your legs.

You couldn’t help but cry out, because he didn’t start off gentle, not that you were expecting him to. You were expecting him to be rough, but you got a lot more than you bargained for. He’d never eaten you out like this, like a crazed man, his tongue harsh against your folds, sucking and licking until you were a thrashing mess. You tugged at his hair but he still wouldn’t let up, adding his fingers and ramming them deep inside you while sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Oh god, oh Jae,” you moaned, delirious with arousal, your body tensing as your orgasm hit. He didn’t stop, overstimulating you until tears pricked your eyes and your knees wanted to close around him.

“Jae,” you whined, “fuck…” you didn’t know whether to beg him to stop or keep going, your fingers still entangled in his hair. Finally he pulled back, lips flushed, chin shiny with your juices. His eyes were hooded, hair mussed, and he was so unbelievably sexy in that moment you would’ve let him do anything he wanted with you. Yet you still didn’t want to make it easy for him.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips.

“I’ve had better,” you replied in a bored tone. It was a lie, but it produced the desired effect. The look on his face darkened and he leaned over you menacingly.

“On your hands and knees.”

When you didn’t comply, just stared at him defiantly, he flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your ass up until you were on your hands and knees. He entered you without warning, but you were already so wet that he slid in easily. You whimpered at the stretch, your body still getting used to his size.

“I know you like this, sweetheart,” he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “I can hear it in your voice.”

Indeed you hadn’t stopped moaning since he’d started pounding into you, this position one of your favorites since he could hit so much deeper in it.

“Fuck…. you….” you could barely breathe, only managing to get out the words between his harsh thrusts.

Suddenly his hand landed on your ass with a resounding smack, and the impact of it went straight to your core, making your pussy clench.

“Hmm, you like that too I see,” he commented, and you could hear the astonished delight in his voice.

“Not at all,” you replied, fighting for a nonchalant tone, which was almost impossible with the way he was drilling his cock so deep and so hard into you. Another slap landed on your ass, followed by another, and another, and soon you were moaning so loud he had to stop for fear of getting a noise complaint.

“You’re a really bad liar, sweetheart,” he said, and you could hear the sly grin in his tone.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” you panted, but suddenly he grabbed your arms and pulled you up to him. Impossibly he quickened his pace, slamming into you so hard the room was filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping on skin.

“Don’t fucking test me,” he growled into your ear, and then he slid one hand up to your throat, the other one down to your clit.

You came with a scream stuck in your throat, as he constricted his hand around your neck, his fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. He fucked you through your orgasm, letting you go so that your upper body flopped back onto the bed. He pulled out, flipping you onto your back and throwing your legs over his shoulders as he entered you again. You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying out, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, seeing as he already had a smug look on his face. All you wanted was to wipe that self-satisfied look off his face so you pulled him down and kissed him, sticking your tongue down his throat until he was moaning into your mouth.

He came with a deep, guttural groan, the sound of it reverberating through you, triggering your own orgasm as he thrust deeply inside you one last time before his hips finally stilled. His lips never left yours, but the kiss softened, turned less heated, more tender, until he finally pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours, as you trailed your fingers up and down his back.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, running his finger along your jaw.

“Fuck you,” you said, smiling.

The corners of his lips tugged up into a smile. “Watch it, sweetheart.”

[quillquiver]

and it’s good

DeanCas coda to 15x19: ‘Inherit the Hearth’

He hasn’t stopped praying.

From an empty world to one filled with people, Dean has gone to his knees every night—on the floor, the gravel, the dirt—and prayed. Head down. Face pressed to his knuckles. Dear Cas…

From each failed plan to their eventual, anti-climactic victory, Dean shares it all. And when it’s all over, when they wake up the morning after with no Jack, no Cas and no world to save, it’s bittersweet. Confusing. Like being released into the wild after living in a cage.

Where does he go from here? What does he do?

What does he want?

Sam doesn’t have a problem finding his own answers, but then again, he never has; he was the one with the life outside The Life: the college boy, the dreamer. Dean… Dean needs some time to adjust. Regroup. Grieve, maybe—whatever the hell that looks like. So, he serves himself a bottle of Jack, grabs a box of Pop Tarts, and makes his way to his recliner. First day of freedom? Dr. Sexy and sweet oblivion sound awesome.

“Hey, uh, what’re you—” Sam cuts himself off, skidding to a halt in the doorway of the Dean Cave. He’s got that pinched look on his face, the one that means: inevitable bitch face, concerned edition. Dean waves him off.

“Chilling out,” he mutters, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Figure I deserve a vacation.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “A vacation.”

“Yeah, genius. A vacation. You know, a little me time?” Dean takes another pull. “You got a problem with that?”

Sam shifts his weight. Frowns at the floor. It’s weird to see him like this; he’s so big, now, but that move is straight out of his teen years—when he’d been gangly and awkward and angry and unsure. He looks up, resolved, and Dean heaves an internal sigh. Whatever the fuck Sam is trying to do, he doesn’t want any part in it.

“What if you come with me?”

“Nope.”

“Dean—”

“Look, Sammy, we fought the big fight, we won, there ain’t nothing left to do,” Dean says reasonably, bitterly, turning back to the DVD menu. “So I don’t wanna go into town, or to the store, or wherever else you’re planning on gallivanting to today. I’m gonna watch my show, drown myself in booze and pass the fuck out, because that is what I’m owed. Capiche?”

“Eileen texted. I’m… I’m going to go get her.”

It’s weird, Dean thinks, how many times a heart can break. He clenches his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat, blinking rapidly. Allows himself a second—one second—of envy and jealousy before he slaps a smile on his face and nods. “Good,” he says. He means it. “You should.”

“So…” Sam trails off.

“So…” Dean echoes.

“…Come with.”

“Sam, I’m not gonna crash your romantic reunion okay? That’s weird.”

“Dean—”

“Sam.” And there’s more that comes out in that word than he ever intended. It hangs heavy in the air between them before dropping to the ground like a stone. Loud. Shattering on impact. Dean thinks his voice might have cracked and his vision is blurring because this pity? This is fucking worse. Shoving a Pop Tart in his mouth, Dean chews with his mouth open in the vain hope that his table manners will prove an adequate distraction, but that shit hasn’t worked for a long time.

It tastes like sawdust.

“Just go,” he says. “You have to go, man.”

It’s as much a plea for his brother as it is for himself, and for one long, terrifying moment Dean thinks Sam’s going to refuse. That he’s gonna be dragged across the country to witness his brother find happiness in a way he will never be able to have.

…But Sam is kind, not cruel, and when those big eyes of his fill with tears, Dean has never been so happy to have given himself up. He watches as his little brother’s shoulders slump. As he readjusts his duffle.

“I’ll be home in two days,” Sam says. “If you’re dead, I’m gonna pissed.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean replies, forcing himself to tease. To be excited. He deserves this. “Go sing in the rain or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Sam volleys back, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He looks so happy, and Dean can’t stop himself from mirroring the expression. It hits him all at once, then—a sucker punch to the gut, the heart—that no matter what, he did right by his little brother. That he’s grown up to be smart, and kind and caring, and now he can be happy. And Dean—Dean’ll figure it out. But Sam’s taken care of and that’s… good. That’s a lot.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Mm.”

“I love you,” Sam says. He’s seven and thirty-seven and Dean feels something inside himself ease and break all at once.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I love you, too.”

Sam grins.

***

There’s no more frozen pizza.

It’s already a fucking travesty that the pizza place doesn’t deliver to their secret underground bunker, but Jack polished off the last two pies—and while it’s a little bit hilarious to think of the ‘New God’ (his kid) scarfing down shitty plain cheese in his pjs, it’s also awful, and painful. So Dean slips on his shoes, grabs his keys, and shoulders on the jacket with Cas’s handprint over his hole-y sleep shirt.

It’s not like he’s sober, but he’s done worse.

It feels like a shitty pizza day, so Dean makes a beeline for the Wal-Mart and its frozen section, stocking up on two of every topping from the cheapest brand they’ve got. He grabs popcorn, chips, twizzlers and margarita mix, because fuck it, and smiles at the cashier. It’s not an epic romantic reunion, but this is what normal people do, right? They take an entire day and wallow without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Dean’s cradling his spoils, twizzler hanging out of his mouth, shuffling out of the garage when—

He freezes.

The kitchen. There’s someone banging around in the kitchen.

Not like aggressively banging—one quick sweep around the area confirms no signs of forced entry—but just like… moving shit. Washing the dishes from this morning, or getting ready to make something new. Dean’s heart is caught between hope and heartbreak and he forces himself towards the latter. It’s probably Charlie, or Bobby or Jody or Donna or, hell, even Jack or Claire. No one else can get in. And if it’s something dangerous… well, Dean doesn’t have a weapon on him, and his damn pizza’s thawing.

But it’s not Charlie or Bobby or Jody or Donna. It’s not Jack. It’s not Claire.

…It’s Cas; freshly showered, dressed in Dean’s fucking clothes, making himself a sandwich.

He’s beautiful. Dean’s shirt—AC/DC, the one with the mustard stain on the collar—is just a little small on him, and he’s humming, and Dean has to blink once twice three times to make sure he’s not a goddamn mirage but no he’s still there, still scooping grape jelly onto the good bread and then putting the dirty spoon on the counter like a friggin’ heathen and—

“Are you gonna wash that?”

It’s sure as fuck not what he’d meant to say, but it gets the job done. Cas drops the spoon—the spoon—and whirls around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Dean,” he breathes, like Dean’s name is some kind of benediction. Like it’s important.

Dean clutches his groceries tighter to his chest. “A-Are you…?” he asks. Steps forward. Steps back. Stares because he can’t, he can’t— “Are you real?”

Cas is barefoot. He’s quiet when he steps across the linoleum. His hair is turning fluffy where it’s drying and his eyes are blue and bright and he’s a miracle. “I’m real,” he confirms quietly. His hand twitches by his side, and Dean thinks that’s fair. Thinks that he gets that Cas has reservations because of—because.

But they’re unfounded. 

Dean drops his spoils because they’re an afterthought; nothing is more important than knowing, than reaching out to touch his fingertips to Cas’s shoulder. To his jaw. He can’t stop the tears from springing to his eyes like he can’t stop himself from laughing. Smiling. And suddenly he has Cas in his arms and he smells like Dean’s soap and Sam’s fancy shampoo, and they’re holding—clutching each other, and Dean turns his head because it has to be now he has to say it now: “Cas, I—”

“I know,” Cas interrupts. “You don’t have to—I know.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, voice high with something like hysteria. The whole thing is so absurd, so insane, so fucked, that it’s all he can do to bury his face in Cas’s neck. To squeeze his eyes shut. To talk. “Well, you’re a friggin’ moron,” he says. “And you got no goddamn idea what you’re talking about, because—because you changed me, too, you dick.” Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s waist and Dean’s heart pounds like it’s trying to escape and his throat is dry and he’s sweating and he’s gonna be sick, he’s gonna die— “A-And I love you.”

He wrenches himself away, then, glaring like he dares Cas to take the words away from him. “Okay?” he asks, rhetorically. Menacingly. It’s a declaration and a confession and a challenge. And Cas meets his stare unflinchingly. He reaches up to thumb at the wetness on the apple of Dean’s cheek. “Okay,” he says. He nods. Leans in. “Okay.” Their mouths brush. “Good.”

It’s not even a real kiss, so Dean can’t be blamed for how he chases; how he breathes good, in faint agreement like a lovesick fool, and moves until they’re kissing good and proper—slow and sweet and then deep and wet and it’s good, it’s so good, he’s so good.

Later, they’ll have to make every thawed pizza. They’ll drink the margarita mix and share the same popcorn bowl and pay no attention to Dr. Sexy playing in the background. They’ll talk about Chuck and Jack and Sam. They’ll stare. They’ll tease. They’ll flirt.

But for now, Cas twists his hands in Dean’s shirt and Dean buries his hands in dark hair. They pause for breath only to come together, again and again and again.

And it’s good.

[pascalpanic]

The Graveyard Shift (Frankie Morales x gn!reader)

Summary: Frankie works overnight shifts at the local mechanic. Tonight, both of you are awake at a late hour.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, food and eating, talk of not being able to sleep, otherwise fluff

A/N: this idea has been in my head all week I had to! Hope you like it :)

Frankie may be a real insomniac, but tonight you’re feeling like he might have rubbed off on you. Your bed is normally your favorite place, your haven and escape from life. It’s a place to rest and cuddle your teddy bear of a boyfriend, where you can close your eyes and let go of reality.  Unfortunately, that glorious disconnect from reality isn’t finding you tonight. You toss and turn in your bed for what feels like hours. Who knows how long it really is?

You try laying on your side. On your back. On your stomach. Legs sprawled out, with no Frankie in the bed to occupy your space. Still, nothing is comfortable. You’re cold without the blankets and hot with them on. The pillows are flat or too squishy. Nothing works.

Frankie’s on the night shift tonight, leaving your bed empty enough for you to toss and turn. Your boyfriend works as a mechanic at a local 24-hour garage, and every week or so he takes the overnight shift. It’s just part of the job. Of course, you don’t mind; he does what he has to. The only downside is the chill in your bed where Frankie’s warm body usually lies.

You try to avoid your phone, checking your alarm clock for the time rather than looking at the blue light and messing up any more chances you have at sleep. But then an hour progresses, and another, and now it’s 1:20 in the morning and sleep is nowhere to be found. You give in and check your phone, sighing.

Frankie can’t possibly be busy. The shop rarely ever gets a car after the sun sets, but it’s worth it to be the only shop in the area open at night. It means more business when someone’s in desperate need. You know he’s awake, and the odds of a car being in the shop now are slim. Maybe talking with him will help you fall asleep.

Deciding to give it a shot, you call his phone. It rings for a few moments, then continues and finally you reach his voicemail, hearing his gentle voice announcing that he’ll call you right back. You frown and set it down only for the phone to ring again. It’s him.

“Hey, babe,” Frankie’s voice speaks through the phone. He sounds tired. Well, you suppose it’s natural. It’s late at night, even if Frankie is practically nocturnal. “Sorry. My hands were covered in grease so I had to wash them before I picked up. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” you inform him, your voice groggy from the lack of sleep you’ve found despite hours of lying here. “Just can’t sleep. How’s work?”

You can hear a metallic clanking as he moves some tools around. “Fine. Just a usual night shift, working on this car that’s an absolute piece of shit. Got oil all over myself.”

The thought makes you smile; Frankie’s grumpy face when something goes wrong, the sigh of exasperation as those dark blue coveralls are stained dark with the car’s oil. “Good job, babe.”

Frankie is rolling his eyes on the other end. You can tell. “Really great job, yeah. How are things at home?”

“Same here. Nothing exciting. Just… can’t sleep and missing you.”

“Missing you too. God, it’s so boring here,” he groans. “I’ll finish this car pretty damn quick then have nothing to do all night. And I’m so goddamn hungry.”

Your eyes light up with an idea and you’re silent as you ponder the idea, long enough for Frankie to be concerned. “What is it?”

“Can I come visit you?” You ask him, a grin crossing your sleepy face. Your eyes are still shut from the weight they carry right now, but your face is clearly happy. “I’ll bring food.

There’s a frown on his face; that much you know for certain. “Babe, it’s late. You should sleep.”

“Francisco, for the love of God. I’m awake right now because I can’t fall asleep. Would you mind a visitor?”

He sighs but you know you’ve won. It makes you smile even wider as you clutch a pillow to your chest. He can barely get the words out before you interrupt. “Great! What are you hungry for?”

There’s another beat of quiet as he thinks. “Let’s order a pizza.”

Late night pizza: Frankie’s biggest weakness besides you. “Perfect. You put in the order and I’ll be there soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. See you then.” Frankie hangs up.

No one else will be around. You know Frankie works these late shifts alone, so you don’t bother to put on anything nicer. Pushing back the covers and bracing for the chill, you stand and slide on a pair of shoes, allowing your pajamas to suffice.

The air is cold as you leave your shared home, and at the last second you grab one of Frankie’s flannels and wrap yourself in it. The night air is chilly around you, the dark sky contrasting the bright lights as you turn on your car. Teeth chattering from the cold, and turning down the air conditioning in your car, you set out on your route to Frankie’s workplace.

There’s no one else on the road besides a spare car or two flying past, neglecting to turn off their high beams for you. It doesn’t matter; if anything, it wakes you up more. When you finally park outside of the building, you rub your eyes desperately hard in hopes of waking yourself up more. It doesn’t really work, but you pretend it does as you pocket your keys and walk inside.

“Hi, I’m here for an oil change?” You call out teasingly into the large garage, entering through an open bay.

Frankie rolls out from beneath a car on a dolley, eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Don’t even bring that up now.” He sits up, removes his earbuds, and unsnaps the top half of his coveralls, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. He removes his gloves and meets you halfway into the garage, kissing you softly and laughing as the brim of his hat bumps against your forehead. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hi,” you beam, kissing him once more. “You look hot in this. Very Danny Zuko.”

“Mhm, and this piece of shit is Greased Lightning,” he laughs and pats the hood of the car he was previously beneath. It’s ugly, brown in color and rusted with a grungy looking interior. “I don’t know why they don’t just scrap this thing. It’s not worth the money.”

Your arms remain wrapped around Frankie’s middle, resting your head against his shoulder as you admire the crappy car. “Honestly, I gotta agree,” you laugh and nudge his side so the two of you can move closer to a workbench. “Here.” You offer him the crappy blanket you brought to sit on. “Tell me the best place to set up.”

“Right here, really,” Frankie shrugs and unfolds the blanket, laying it down over the oil-stained concrete. “You get comfortable. I’ll go put on a clean pair of coveralls.” He kisses your head as you sit cross-legged on the blanket, pulling his flannel tighter around yourself. “And stop stealing my clothes!” He calls over his shoulder before retreating into the back.

“You know you love it!” You shout back with a laugh, leaning against the side of the beat-up car.

Out of nowhere, the radio in the shop starts playing. It’s loud, making you jump at the sound of the KISS song that starts blasting. With that, Frankie returns from the back, wearing a clean pair of blue coveralls with that embroidered Catfish patch over his heart. His curls peek out from beneath his cap, and he scratches at the scruff of his beard. “Way to scare the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he laughs, adjusting the volume back down from the garage control before making his way over to you. “Just thought we could use some music.”

“I guess,” you grumble, though it’s clear there’s no ill will when he sits next to you and you nuzzle into his side, sighing as he drapes his arm across your shoulders. “Didn’t have to freak me out like that though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs and kisses your head, leaning back against the car too and letting his head fall back.

No sooner do the two of you get comfortable, nestled into each other’s arms and taking a breath of relaxation, is there a knock at the glass. It’s the pizza delivery, a guy who looks exhausted, just like most normal people would be at this hour. “Be right back.” Frankie kisses your nose and stands, groaning as his joints creak and his back pops.

“Grandpa.” You tease with a grin.

“Stuff it.”

He pays for the order, giving the delivery guy a generous tip for delivering food at this hour of night. Frankie returns with the box and you shimmy in happiness as he opens the box and the smell of the pizza wafts out of the cardboard.

Frankie pulls over a rolling dolley to set the food on, at least somewhat like a table. “Your fine dining experience, my love,” he chuckles as he sets down the box and a stack of napkins next to it. He sits across from you, once again groaning as he makes himself sit cross-legged to match you.

Taking a hold of the crust, you pull out a large slice, the cheese pulling from the center of the pizza. Sighing happily, you tear the cheese apart and pile it on top of the fully-topped pizza, complete with Frankie’s go-to order. Waiting for him and humming to the song, you finally take a bite when he does.

Both of you moan in happiness, laughing a little as each realizes that the other did the same. Once your mouthful of pizza has been swallowed, you grin at Frankie and he grins back. The shop is quiet, the dull rhythm of the oldies station playing in the background. There are no words, but there’s no need for them.

Frankie finishes his slice at about the same time as you, and your hands bump as you both reach for another piece, the one loaded with toppings. “Back off, Morales,” you laugh and swat his hand away, though your hand instantly moves for another piece.

“No, you can have it,” he says, brow furrowing as you leave the piece alone.

“It’s yours. You’re the one working; you deserve it.”

He knows you inside and out. He knows that there’s no arguing when you’ve made the decision, so he takes the piece with a loving “thank you”.

It takes hardly any time for either of you to finish the second piece. Leaning back against the car, your eyes finally shut and you sigh in relaxation. You have food, you have Frankie, and finally you’re starting to get tired. “What time is it now?”

“Late. You can sleep if you want.”

“I’m not tired,” you bluff, though your body slumps against the car, head falling to the side.

Frankie just shrugs and munches on another piece. He can’t help but smile at the sight: you’re in your pajamas and his flannel, falling asleep on the floor of the mechanic shop. He certainly never expected to see such a sight, but he grins at how cute you look like this.

By the time Frankie’s third slice is gone, you’re half-asleep, barely conscious, body holding what little tension and energy you have left. Frankie just leans back, watching you, still smiling at the sight.

He can see it happen when you finally do fall asleep. The tension in your back drifts away, your body slumping down against the car. Your face, which was scrunched in concentration of trying to stay awake, finally slips into the neutrally peaceful state of sleep.

Frankie closes the pizza box, standing and bringing it to the back. He can have some more later if he’s hungry; if not, he’ll send it home with you- later. For now, you need to rest.

His knees and back scream at him as he bends down, but Frankie squats in front of you and wakes you. “Hey, baby. You fell asleep. Come on, get on up and I’ll take you to the couch in the back.”

Your sleep-addled state doesn’t let you argue. You stand, still half-asleep, using Frankie’s hands to help you up. He wraps the clean side of the blanket around you, almost like a burrito, but leaves your legs enough room to walk. Holding onto your arm, so that you don’t trip thanks to your barely-opened eyes, he leads you to the break room in the back.

The old leather couch is beat up and worn, scratched and occasionally ripped from tools left in back pockets and too many years of careless plopping down after a long shift. Frankie makes sure your blanket is swaddled tightly around you and helps you lay down, chuckling at the burrito you make on the couch.

Frankie bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll be here if you need me. Just sleep now, babe.”

You murmur something in response, something that might’ve resembled words if you weren’t already fading out again.

Frankie doesn’t go too far, just across the room to the computer. He fires up the machine to check out the schedule for tomorrow, what the store needs to order more of, the usual. The thing that makes it better, maybe even enjoyable, are your soft snores from the couch behind him.

-

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@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal

[curiousconch]

Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 4)

Part 4: The truth will never lie to me

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Trapped in a conference, Gabe and Alex bask in the afterglow of their interrupted moment by the lake. But before Alex can fully comprehend how she felt, she unravels a truth that may cease the chase altogether.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.8k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, language, implied sexual content. Reader discretion advised.

Author's Notes: Surprise! Yep, it's an early release! I made revisions to fit the ongoing narrative and ended up breaking it down into two parts. Also, this series may span longer than I originally intended it to be, not wanting to rush things. It will probably extend until Part 7, depending on what happens at the finale. I do hope you'll still stick around. If not, I'll totally understand. 😉

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Late night, Boston

Shoe laces, cool wind and the darkness of the forest enveloping them. His breath shuddering with how close her lips was. His throat running dry.

Wanting, longing.

Just a little taste to find out how intoxicatingly delicious those cherry lips would be in his mouth and to feel the heat of her body against his.

And then a splash.

Gabe blinked as he felt ice cold liquid pouring over his crisp white shirt. He wasn't sure if he was having déjà vu.

"Oh, sorry mate," a man standing nearby had bumped into him, making the glass of scotch he was drinking shake and spill into his impeccable suit. He forced down the tasteless curse words forming in his mouth, groaning in frustration at the dissipating sensations from what he had been imagining.

His mind was stuck in an endless loop, replaying the romantic encounter with Alex just the night before. But very much like after Beau's dive into the lake, his consciousness whipped achingly back to reality.

Gabe was leaning on the mobile bar, set in the middle of the conference reception. Did he just lose himself in a daydream like a fool? He wondered, murmuring through his madness.

The time alone with her provided him a glimpse of what could be between them. And oh how euphoric it had been to have her so near, to watch his body respond to her like no other.

It left him just craving for more.

He was lying to himself if he continued to deny that he has feelings for Alex, and how deep he was already in for her. But he knew it wasn't meant to be, at least until after he admits the truth. Until then, he had to pull away.

Easier said than done.

For now, he settled for a view of her, his eyes scoured the room for the subject of his fancy. When he found her, Gabe couldn't stop his smile and the fluttering of his heart, or the warmth growing between his legs.

There she was, in the far side of the room, shining brighter than any star that they had seen in the night sky. Her audience completely captivated as he was with her.

The sight of her in that blue dress swept Gabe back into his fantasies, and how infuriatingly near he was to giving into them. He had to clench his fist around his tumbler, suppressing any trace of his earlier wild thoughts.

Apparently sensing the weight of his gaze, Alex turned to him, their eyes meeting in silent conversation. He watched as she excused herself before making her way towards where he sat.

Half-smiling, Alex's confident expression as she approached him made him swallow hard.

Gabe summoned all his willpower to rein himself in as she got closer. He plastered his usual cocky smile, once again putting up a wall of professionalism. They were in a conference, he reasoned.

"Still watching your wards, old man?" Alex chuckled as she reached a seat beside him.

"Working the room like a pro like that? Very hard to ignore," Gabe interjected, shaking his head. "Had to say Alex, I'm impressed."

"Glad you noticed," she smiled, clearly enjoying the compliment.

"Frankly, you charming the top tier lawyers were hard to miss," he said, with lips quirking into a grin.

"Were you watching the whole time?" she asked.

"Difficult not to, seeing how you're the best-dressed lawyer in the room," he continued, savoring the easy conversation.

She scoffed before turning around, grabbing a napkin from a bartender. Alex offered it to him, pointing at the light stain on his clothes.

He finally muttered a curse, realizing he had been too distracted not to notice the result of the spillage from his own drink. This was one of my best suits.

Gabe almost jumped when Alex started to wipe the front of his suit.

His eyes narrowed, unable to process what was happening. On impulse, he reached out to her, encircling his palms around her wrist. Alex snapped her head up at the touch, the intensity of her gaze enchanting him.

It took all of his strength to break free from it. He cleared his throat and looked away, before grabbing the napkin from her grasp without warning.

It had always been like this. At first, there was this fluidity, a natural attraction between them while they interacted. Then another goddamn minute passes and it all becomes downright complicated.

Gabe wasn't having it.

He briefly shut his eyes closed and released the breath he was holding. When he opened them, he focused his attention on wiping the stain from his jacket, avoiding Alex's questioning gaze. He decided to divert the conversation, robbing her of any opportunity to re-capture him in a trance.

"Don't worry, I don't judge potential partners solely on congeniality. Though I can't speak for Sadie." He then turned and discarded the cloth on the bar. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll have to speak to a friend who I'm sure will be thrilled to know I'm now a partner."

He finally dared to look at Alex with almost apologetic eyes, before swiftly walking away towards a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Alex was left gaping at his hasty departure, uncertain how it all went south so quickly. She wanted to grab his arm and pull him to her so badly, to pick things up from where they left off last night. From that moment when his lips was inches away from taking hers, before they were interrupted.

Her body ached to be near him. Then again, that's not how she usually operates, so she let him be.

She had never thought her idol was such a tease. Or perhaps, traditional? Alex snickered. Oh how I'll make you beg, Gabriel Ricci. She exhaled, the sultry thought of the man on his knees in front of her suddenly hiking up the temperature in the room. Alex had to fan herself to cool down.

Along with the idea of finally spending some alone time together, conjuring the image of waking up beside Gabe excited her. Well, if ever this chase between them actually culminates to something.

But why was she following this trail of thought? In all her conquests, she had never stayed for what came after. She had that with Julian, and look how that ended. For her, it was always just for the fun. So why does she suddenly liked the notion with Gabe? She shuddered. Ugh, weird.

Maybe it's because it's taking the long game with him? Alex didn't want to know.

Leaving that for now, she resorted to ordering another shot of patron to drown the remnants of her heated thoughts. On her third glass, Alex heard a familiar voice ordering a shot of bourbon. She swiveled towards it and caught sight of Lina Reyes, the opposing lawyer from the Willow case.

"Fancy meeting you here," Alex smiled lazily, remembering how temptingly attractive she was. She also recalled the offer of a hook-up, which she politely declined out of courtesy.

But now, seems like she's getting another chance. And with Gabe being annoyingly hard to get, Alex had to have fun somewhere else. It's not like she and Gabe was committed, right?

Lina scooted closer to her, smelling of a heady mix of alcohol. "Speaking of fancy, damn. You look more incredible than I can remember, Alex," she teased, provocatively arching her brows at her.

Alex quickly picked up Lina's attempt to flirt, stoking her bruised ego. "Gotta be dressed to impress, right?" she waved her fingers as if in curtsy. "Enjoying the conference?"

"At this point, things tend to devolve quickly. But I do plan to have a nightcap back in my room," Lina smirked, Alex feeling the heel of velvet pumps brushing along her bare leg. "Maybe you could join me?"

The woman wasn't exactly subtle, though Alex had to give props to her for her confidence. She liked that in anyone. So Alex returned the gesture, letting her fingers hover an inch over her arm while batting her eyelashes. Two can play that game.

"I think we should stay here."

Wait, what? Did she just say no? Subconsciously? Did hell just freeze over? Or did her brain left her head?

Both women blinked, unable to determine who's more mortified between them. They were both quiet, until Lina broke the awkwardness by a chuckle.

"Had to try, didn't expect I'd be turned down twice," she said consuming the rest of her drink in one gulp. "Worth it though." she shrugged, ordering another round for herself.

Alex struggled to compose herself, brows furrowed in confusion by how that went down.

"Oh don't be so bothered, you're not my first rodeo." Lina poked at her jokingly, clearing up the air. Alex thanked her, and the conversation went smoothly from there.

Several more drinks in, the two women chatted on, venturing into a variety of topics in law and in love. It didn't take long before Lina started to slur in her words, to which Alex found amusing.

"Looks like someone didn't pace herself," she observed as she sipped her cocktail.

"Ah don't mind me, had to cleanse my palate after all the boring sessions earlier," Lina toasted her glass on hers, wobbling as she shifted to face her. "We are a rare breed, us fighters," she leaned towards Alex, lowering her voice to a whisper. "We like-minded women should just stick together, you know?"

Alex was relieved she turned her down the second time. Barely listening to her, she started to drift off as Lina continued rambling on, turning around to face the crowds as her eyes tried to locate that handsome man. Alex smirked when she found Gabe's sexy outline.

"Lot of ungrateful dipshits being freed from prison, even after we work our asses off proving they deserved an earlier release. Khan, Kozlowski, those celebrities involved with the Ivy League admission scandal? Hell, even small town criminal Cornell was released in the last five years alone!"

And with that last statement, Alex froze. "Say that again?"

Confused, Lina stuttered as if she can't remember what she was saying. To Alex's annoyance, she went silent, apparent that more humiliation was on the way. Lina abruptly stood, covering her mouth with her hand as she sprinted to the bathroom. Alex let her pass.

Assured that she'll be fine with her colleagues flanking her, Alex started to obsess over Lina's last sentence.

Was that just the patron? Or am I getting too drunk and starting to hear things? She asked herself, bewildered at how randomly Lina mentioned a Cornell.

With an exasperated sigh, she decided it wouldn't hurt to check. She pulled out her phone from her purse and fired up a search engine, where she typed in the godforsaken name. Alex tapped enter.

As soon as the results loaded, she felt the world crumble beneath her.

No, no, no, no, no. This fucking didn't happen.

She clicked on one of the articles from a local news outlet. The picture beneath the headline shoving her nightmares front and center. There it was, the title written in bold stated loud and clear: Cornell Son Gets Early Release.

Alex bit her lip as she fought to gather herself together, speed reading through the article. This was definitely a surprise, but what really got her reeling was the figure of a man walking behind Maximilian. She'd pick up who that was from anywhere within a mile radius.

Alex tried to keep herself rational, but the shock rippled through her, enough to shake off the alcohol in her system. And why did her stomach churned like she was punched in the gut a hundred times over? Why did she felt fucking betrayed?

Unexpectedly, she knew it wasn't discovering Cornell was now walking freely in the streets.

Deep down, Alex was aware it was because Gabe Ricci was involved. Either way, it looks like her high and mighty boss has some explaining to do.

Her blood boiled, a myriad of questions went through her mind. Resolute, she wanted those damn questions answered. Tonight.

She downed her drink and slammed the empty glass on the bar, sending a text to draw Gabe's attention.

She looked over where he stood, watching the frown in his face as he read her message. She clicked her head, beckoning him outside.

Even he can't fathom the fire storm that was about to come his way.

Author's Notes 2: Thank you for your continued reading! 💖 How do you think things will go down next? Let me see your reactions on your comments and reblogs!

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses @lillijill

@choicesficwriterscreations

[h-e-l-l-b-r-o-k-e]

The Distance Between [B.H. x you]

Summary: The past really loves to remind Billy of what he’s lost, of who he longs for.

Inspiration: To Be In Your Eyes by The Church

Word Count: 1398 Warnings: angst.

Written Date: 3/7-30/2021 Posted Date: 4/1/2021

[MASTERLIST]

His blue irises reflect the steady stream of moonlight. The night sky and its many little crystals of light peak in on him through the foggy beads of dew and drizzle. The rain patters against glass in a steady melancholic drum; wind rattles the old pipes and wooden bones of the room like a lonesome dog begging to be let in. The windowpanes lead to nature’s own picture show in technicolor, but Billy’s mind wanders to the monochromatic.

To the past. To just that day’s passing period where fifth transitions to sixth. To when the stubborn clouds finally part their curtains to the sun in this drowsy, little northern town. The kids are just as muted in annoyance as the people Billy’s age are in excitement.

Shoes squeak on linoleum, and the hallways are filled with the rhythm of slamming lockers and melodramatic hushes of secret admirers. True love. Broken hearts. Longing…

The muscles of Billy’s cheek pull at the corner of his lip, yet his lips are dry, and the beginning hum of a cackle is yet to be resuscitated in his throat. This is just a residual reaction; Billy knows this somewhere in the back of his mind because it happens from time to time.

He was standing there, in that very hallway, with an arm leaning over a head of long blonde hair that reeked of hairspray and speckled green eyes. Or maybe they were a golden brown. He doesn’t know; the allure in them and the girl’s pretty smile was lost to him. The lockers were hard, and the metal was shooting pins and needles up his arm. Despite the cushion of a jacket, pain bloomed its thorns into the point of his elbow. Yet the pumping vessel beneath his chest bone was receiving the brunt of it.

Because you were there. Just feet away from him. With a dainty hand fiddling with the golden chain of a butterfly necklace—the one Billy had given you just months before—as a large smile was plastered on your face. It was genuine, Billy had noted, because it dared to shatter your complexion. Your wide eyes crinkled. Moisture stuck to your lashes—no, your lips didn’t dare to let go.

You were so happy. You were so goddamn happy, standing there with another man as the center of your focus, as the reflection in your eyes. The gloss of your irises captured better than film technology—how he brushed the stubborn baby hair away from your temple or how his lips spoke of words only you could understand—for it relayed your giggles and other quirks upon the entirety of your features.

 Billy’s tortured bone was sending distress signals to his brain, wanting a rest. Billy hadn’t listened to it. He wanted to snap that lanky brunet’s long, slender fingers. The ones that rested on the edge of your scalp were too chicken shit to run and grasp a bit of hair to be brought in for a velvet kiss and never let go until you’re both gasping for air.

Those hands have never worked a day in their life, Billy could tell. Never had to work summers in a humid garage or on somebody’s lawn for some spending money. No, Jimbo would never leave you breathless, but at least you’d be comfortable. Bored, but never worried, nonetheless. He’d give you what Billy never could.

Billy’s fingers mindlessly reach for that same elbow that now thrums in vague feeling. He rubs it, and the callus from handling tools is rough on his skin. God, he wants to laugh. He wants to cackle just as he wanted to cackle in that school hallway. Cackle like he’s got nothing to worry about too, like you meant nothing to him. Cackle because it was just too easy to forget all about you.

Instead, everything blurred, and everything became muffled, and not because he had been engulfed by your plush lips. You didn’t allow Billy the freedom of resuming his affair with this blonde girl, and yet her talking had continued. Going on and on about nail polish—or was it about Madonna’s newest hit? He doesn’t remember what she’d been so interested in, or why stubbornness persisted within her interest in him when Billy was so obviously under another girl’s spell.

You were there. Just a few feet away. With some brunet shorter and thinner than him. Playing with the butterfly necklace Billy had bought for you with the cash he earned, acting as a gardener for his next-door neighbors during spring break. And you were smiling, two months after you had found purple and red hickeys along Billy’s neck and torso for the second time since becoming official. You were now smiling after having screamed and sobbed and pounded on Billy’s bare chest with your fists and watched him turn defensive—listened to him tell you that you didn’t satisfy his needs, you didn’t put out enough, you just weren’t enough.

You walked out on him and became both deaf and blind. Never answered the incessant ringer of a house phone. Deleted voicemails before Billy’s voice could utter more than two syllables. Donated and hid some of the belongings he left behind in the back of your closet, like his worn Metallica’s Ride the Lightning record. And you never allowed your gaze to fall upon him for more than a couple seconds, no matter how much your eyes stung and begged to stare just a little bit longer.

And, ironically, Billy did too. His grades were worsening from assignments that were lost in the black hole of his backpack. Other girls were not as appealing as before, no matter how attractive they were and continue to be. Billy can pretend sometimes, however; he was pretending to like that blonde and he almost believed he did until you popped up into his peripheral. Most of the time, Billy couldn’t conjure an ounce of care when things weren’t about you. But he’d like to be quite deaf and blind to that fact too.

The hallway light suddenly flickers through the bottom crack of his bedroom door. Socked feet thread not-so-carefully down the wooden flooring. They forget about the creaky panels that tend to disturb the rest of the household. It’s Max, who has a habit of waking in the middle of the night to fill up on a refreshing glass of water. She must have forgotten to leave a filled cup on her bedside table, Billy thinks.

Billy’s throat itches, and he almost calls out to Max for a glass as well. Almost, before the memory of your eyes suck him back into the bottomless pit of nostalgia. Billy finds that he can’t do much these days except loosen up the tension in his muscles, give up the flailing, and just sink. Drown. His throat itches, and yet he will wait until morning, until he’s only got fifteen minutes to spare before the first bell.

A glass clinks as it lands in the metal sink. The same padded feet trek back into the hallway until the light no longer emits a glow beneath his door and another door down the hall clicks close.

For now, he stays, resting on his back, caught up in a web that enslaves him from sleep. He can kick off the blankets that are entangled with his legs, but, just like they don’t provide much warmth these days, it doesn’t do much in lessening the phantom grasp on him.

And the night grows colder as the rain pummels against his window now, and he wonders if, on the other side of town, the rain beats against your bedroom window as well. The moonlight striking on Billy’s face reflects the streams on the glass like tears upon his cheeks, but he cannot produce tears of his own. He simply stares into distance as his brain produces the same haunting images.

Of your smile. Of the silver butterfly necklace—how it still shines from a soft cleanser. Of how you looked exactly the same as the first day Billy met you, only except it wasn’t him who you were sharing intimacy with. It was some other guy who just wouldn’t stop touching you.

Sometimes Billy wishes he could do the simplest things, laugh and cry and get angry—anything to shake off the stranger he has become.

[volturialice]

hey! first of all: i hope you are doing well. second: i'm sorry i'm late for the "thoughts on" post but what do you think is the relationship between alice and charlotte?

I think charlotte is most likely baffled by alice. like, from her perspective....what the fuck. who IS this

think about it. charlotte knew jasper in the context of "terrifying emotionless War Machine who has no regard for life and was ready to kill me without batting an eye." then she knew him in the context of "boyfriend's super depressed bestie who constantly third-wheels us and doesn't know what to do with himself if he's not committing violence in someone else's name and also has this weird handicap about eating"

and then, however many years later, she meets him again in the context of "Wife Guy who lives in a house with a goddamn picket fence, eats a bizarre moralistic granola diet, and lets his 4'10" girlfriend pick out his shoes" like what the actual fuck.

to charlotte, who has no problem murdering humans for brunch but is otherwise a pleasant, pacifistic, ~Normal~ vampire, alice must seem so bizarre. she has this WAY overpowered gift, is probably tied for the most powerful vampire of the last millennium, and she uses it to......go shopping. she looked at a depressed, feral war criminal and went "is this a husband??" she doesn't know who she is or where she came from. she abstains from eating normal food because...fate told her to?

but she's super friendly and easy to get along with, and must have been so excited to meet charlotte and peter! so it's not that she's deeply weird in an off-putting way, just deeply weird in a neutral way.

I think, to peter and charlotte, alice and jasper are the equivalent of "those cousins/in-laws/college friends who got sober and joined a hippie commune but they're so nice and they make the BEST guacamole and we'd probably still die for them." "their lifestyle is deeply eccentric and we worry about them sometimes, but they're family."

anyway I think @jessicanjpa has written a oneshot about this! you should go check it out

[onlydreamofmysoul]

This and That (Wolfstar)

More from my Ao3! Heads up, this one gets smutty so if that’s not your thing then this might not be your fic. 

I hope ye like it!

Remus couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Because Sirius Black had gotten a lip piercing.

“Hey Moony.” Sirius smirked, apparently waiting to see how long it would take for Remus to react. It was the first day back at school after the Christmas break, Sirius had spent it why James and the Potters and Remus had missed him but they had written to each other every day.

But apparently there were some things Sirius had forgotten to mention.

“Hi Pads.” Remus finally ground out, realising a beat or two had passed and he hadn’t answered.

“Good break?”

“Yeah it was nice seeing mum and dad.” If Sirius wasn’t going to mention it then neither was Remus. Two could play at this game. “How about you?”

“Alright.” Sirius shrugged but grabbed Remus’s hand and tugged him closer, burying his face against Remus’s neck. Remus could feel the hard press of the warm metal against his skin and felt a little flutter in his core. Fuck.

“Missed you.” Sirius mumbled and Remus wrapped his arms tightly around him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Well hello James, how lovely it is to see you.” James grumbled walking past two boys.

“Hello to you too James.” Remus chuckled, pulling away from Sirius and beginning to walk back to the castle.

“Is Peter back yet?” James asked as they jumped onto the stairs, just as they began to move, the stone sliding seamlessly through the air.

“No.” Remus answered. “I arrived a couple of hours ago and Peter isn’t due back until tomorrow.”

“Cutting it a little close, isn’t he?” Sirius commented and Remus forced himself to ignore the not-yet-familiar flash of metal on his face.

“Yeah.” Remus shrugged. “He barely even wrote to me over the break.” They stepped off the staircase and headed up to the Gryffindor Tower. “He must just be busy.”

“Maybe he’s found himself a girl.” James said suggestively, nudging Sirius lightly in the ribs. Sirius shoved him away in retaliation. Remus just rolled his eyes.

“Calla lily.” He said to the Fat Lady and the portrait swung open.

They stepped into the common room, quieter than it usually was at this time of the night - a lot of students had yet to return. James brightened immeasurably when he spotted a bright head of flame red hair across the room and he passed his trunk to Remus, half in a daze.

“Would you mind taking this upstairs for me please Moony?” He asked, but without waiting for an answer he had already begun to wander away, half in a trance as he wrapped his arms around Lily from behind. She just smiled and leaned back comfortably into the touch.

“They’re cute.” Remus mused as they trundled up the last set of stars to their dorm.

“Yeah, I suppose Lily was excited to see her boyfriend.”

Remus snorted at the not so subtle dig and opened the door, putting James’s trunk down by his bed.

“I suppose James would have told Lily if he did something like get a new piercing.”

Sirius pouted, his bottom lip popping out and highlighting that little silver ring. “I wanted to see your reaction.” He looked down at his feet, scuffing his shoes lightly. “I take it you don’t like it?”

Remus arched an eyebrow. “You’re right.” He said, stepping closer and he hooked his fingers under Sirius’s chin, lifting it so he could look into his boyfriend’s eyes. “I love it.”

A delighted surprise lit up Sirius’s eyes before he leaned up and pressed those lips against Remus’s before pulling away abruptly.

“Ow.” Sirius said frowning, a finger grazing the piercing lightly. “It’s still pretty tender.”

“You wanted to get out of kissing me that badly?” Remus teased as Sirius groaned, tugging him closer by the waist and burying his face in Remus’s chest.

“I would never have gotten it if I knew it meant I couldn’t kiss you.”

Remus chuckled softly. “I’m sure it’ll only be for a few more days.”

“It's already been two weeks. I’ve done my waiting.” Sirius lamented before pressing up on his tiptoes and trying to connect their lips. Remus laughed at the dramatics as he dodged his boyfriend’s eager lips, determined not to hurt him even if he had been dreaming about this moment from the minute they had been separated.

“I suppose we could figure something else out.” Remus proposed and Sirius pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Remus hummed, already leaning down to nuzzle Sirius’s neck. “You can’t kiss me, but there’s nothing stopping me kissing you.”

Sirius’s hands tightened at his waist. “ I guess you’re right.”

Remus nipped Sirius’s earlobe, making the shorter boy gasp. “I thought I was always right?” Remus mumbled into his boyfriend’s skin. Sirius groaned, his hands tanging in Remus’s hair. “You are.”

Remus hummed in approval and grazed his teeth lightly over the spot where Sirius’s shoulder met his neck.

“You are such a tease.” Sirius gasped.

“How long do you think we have?”

Sirius quickly glanced at his watch. “Plenty of time. James is just seeing Evans for the first time in weeks and Peter isn't back yet so it's just you and me Moony.”

“Well in that case…” Remus muttered just before he attached his lips to that sensitive spot he had just been teasing and sucked what would become a deep purple mark there. Sirius gasped and his fingers tightened in Remus hair, tugging him closer. Remus licked a long column up Sirius’s neck, stopping only when he reached the top to pull Sirius’s earlobe into his mouth, smirking against his boyfriend's skin as Sirius inhaled sharply.

“I hate you.” Sirius whispered as Remus dragged his teeth along the shell of his ear and Remus chuckled.

“No you don’t.” He breathed, his hot breath caressing Sirius’s skin. “You love me.”

Sirius gasped and arched into his boyfriend's hands as another mark was made on his skin. “Yeah.” He panted. “I do.”

Remus pulled away slightly so he could look into the heavenly stormy swirls of his boyfriend’s eyes. “Merlin, I wanna kiss you.” He mumbled, his eyes flitting down to Sirius’s lips and… that piercing. Not to reiterate, but… fuck.

“Do it.” Sirius dared but Remus just smirked. “You wish, Pads.” He said, before occupying his lips with something a little more pressing than talking right now and kissing the hollow of Sirius’s throat. He pushed the leather jacket from Sirius’s shoulders and then tugged on his shirt. “Off.” He ordered and Sirius scrambled to follow orders.

Remus grinned as he stood in front of a now-shirtless Sirius. He ran his hands lightly over his boyfriend's pale chest for a moment but stopped when Sirius literally whined with longing.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

“It’s been two weeks.” Sirius ground out. “Don’t pretend you haven’t missed this too.”

Remus swirled his tongue over Sirius’s nipple, not deigning to reply. Sirius gasped and reached around for something to grab on to, finally catching one of the bedposts. In truth, Remus had missed this, oh how he had missed this. But right now it wasn't about him.

He pushed Sirius lightly backwards until his legs hit on his bed and his knees buckled, pulling Remus down onto the bed with him. They collapsed onto the soft covers, giggling for a second as they kicked off their shoes until once again the mood was a tad more serious.

“Thought about you-” Sirius gasped, “Every day, every minute really.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus said, looking up for a moment from where he had been kissing a trail down Sirius’s navel. “What did you think about me doing?”

He bit Sirius’s side gently, the way he knew drove Sirius mad. “This?” He asked innocently. “Or… this?” He continued as he circled his tongue on the other boy’s nipple. “Or maybe even… this.” He breathed as he unbuttoned Sirius’s jeans and slid his hand into his boyfriend’s pants, palming his straining, hard cock through his boxers.

“Fuck Re.” Sirius groaned as his hips buckled up into Remus’s hands. “Give me a warning if you’re going to do that.”

“Oh but then,” Remus pouted. “I wouldn't get to see your face when I did something like… this.” He plunged his hand into Sirius’s underwear, eliminating the one, tiny barrier between them and grasped the velvety hardness as Sirius bit his lip, moaning, that goddamned lip ring gleaming. Remus smirked as he swirled his thumb over the tip of Sirius’s cock, his eyes never leaving Sirius’s face, savouring the bitten lip, every little gasp, the cute scrunching of his nose.

That same smirk still played on Remus’s lips as he lowered his mouth, his tongue darting up to lick the bead of pre cum leaking from Sirius’s aching member. Remus watched Sirius’s eyes fly open before clenching shut as he gasped, his fingers knotting in Remus’s hair and applying very slight pressure. Not enough to actually move Remus, but enough to tell him what Sirius wanted. Remus hummed and then without warning, he took Sirius’s entire length in his mouth.

“Fuck!” Sirius cried, not even caring if the entire Hogwarts castle heard him. “Re.” He whimpered and Remus looked up at him through lidded lashes. “Re.” Sirius panted again, “You’ve gotta stop unless you want me to come right now.” Remus hummed to indicate he had heard, but continued his ministrations, his nails scraping lightly over Sirius’s inner thigh, one hand holding Sirius’s hips down while his tongue swirled ceaselessly over the sensitive skin as Remus kept bobbing his head and the next thing Remus knew was the delicious sound of Sirius’s moan as his hips bucked and he spilled in Remus’s mouth.

Remus continued his motions for a moment or two more, stroking Sirius through his climax before pulling away and crawling up the bed so he could lie next to Sirius, studying his face as he came down from his high.

When Sirius’s eyes were clear again, no longer clouded by pure bliss, he reached over and unbuttoned Remus’s pants quickly, inhaling sharply at Remus’s straining cock. Remus watched as Sirius wrapped his long, slim fingers around him and found himself bucking involuntarily into Sirius’s palm. Sirius laughed a little when Remus climaxed after a few quick tugs but Remus just shoved his shoulder slightly as he cast a wandless cleaning charm.

“A little eager, Re?”

“Oh fuck off.” Remus scoffed. “As if you were much better. Besides, I’ve been dreaming about this for a while now.”

Sirius’s eyes darkened even as he tucked himself into Remus’s open arms, entwining their legs. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Ready to go again so soon Pads. Hm, maybe I’ll just have to prove my stamina this time.”

“Mmm, don’t worry Moony, I know all about your impressive stamina.”

“Good.” Remus found himself mumbling even as he giggled into Sirius’s neck and Sirius huffed a laugh from where his face was buried in Remus’s chest.

“I love you.” Remus whispered. “So, so much.”

Sirius’s grip on him tightened infinitely as he took a slightly quivering breath. “There aren’t enough words for me to describe how much I love you Remus Lupin.”

Remus kissed Sirius’s neck, where his lips rested as he began to drift towards sleep. “Can’t be as much as I love that fucking lip ring.”

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Presents and Kisses

Reid Garwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,858

Summary: It’s reader’s birthday and Reid has some surprises up his sleeve. Dedicated to the lovely @saviorsong​. Happy Birthday! 

The café was a small, single room operation so sound from both the dining area and the kitchen traveled throughout. And everyone heard when your boyfriend came out of the bathroom, throwing the door open with such force that a bang rang out from where it hit the wall.

The poor barista almost dropped a drink they were making out of surprise.

“Babe, that was the biggest shit I’ve taken this month,” Reid practically shouted as he made his way back to the table.

You didn’t bother to acknowledge that particular comment and kept your attention on Tyler who had also tagged along with you guys. It was better to not entertain poop talk seeing as how you were in public.

“Babe! Did you hear what I said?”

“I think everyone did,” you replied pointedly. He dropped into his chair, hands clutching at his stomach.

You continued chatting with Tyler about a class you were taking and Reid still kept fidgeting and groaning. He was normally dramatic but he was really hamming it up.

You turned to him with a raised brow. That was all it took for him to increase his complaining.

“I think it was the food. It’s gotta be food poisoning, I feel so sick.”

“But we ate from the same plate.”

A glance at the table showed a shared plate that had long been eaten with not a drop of sauce left on the it after you both had all but cleaned the dish. If he actually had food poisoning, shouldn’t you be feeling it too? Your stomach felt perfectly fine, if not satisfied.

“Everyone reacts differently to these things, you know.”

Tyler nodded seriously, corroborating Reid’s claim. Those two were thicker than thieves, always ready to back each other up.

“No telling how bad this could get. I’m gonna head home but you should stay, Ty can hang out with you,” he said.

“Really?” Your tone was colored with incredulously. “Today of all days?”

He completely ignored that and bent down for a kiss. You were extremely tempted to turn away but ended up giving in. Reid may be an idiot, but he was your idiot. Keeping up with the sick-as-a-dog routine, he gingerly hobbled out of the café.

And since he was your idiot, you knew something was definitely up. You didn’t claim to be the smartest person around but Reid wasn’t exactly subtle.

Immediately, your attention turned towards Tyler. If one was plotting, then the other would know.

The brunette raised his hands as if to keep things peaceful. “Okay, okay. Don’t be upset.”

“It’s my birthday and my man just ran out under suspicious circumstances. I have every right to be annoyed.”

“Exactly! You’re the reason why he left!” He paused for an awkward second. “Wow. That came out totally wrong. What I mean is that he’s setting up something nice for you.”

“He is?” you asked suddenly touched.

Reid was a romantic sort. Maybe not always so smooth about it, but a romantic nonetheless. And he did do things for you often, even if a good number of things were in an attempt to apologize for something stupid he did, but he had never done a birthday surprise.

Well, not one where he had kept it a surprise for this long. Normally he couldn’t keep quiet about his plans so you were a bit impressed that you hadn’t noticed until his terrible acting just then.

Tyler nodded again, this time in excitement. “Yep. He needs a few hours to get it ready though…we can either stay here or walk around. Your birthday, your choice.”

His methods may be, well, unconventional, but your heart beat a little faster knowing he was planning something. Your mind wandered, thinking up various possibilities. Two hours couldn’t go by fast enough.

***

It ended up being close to six o’clock before you returned home.

You closed the door gently and toed your shoes off. The quietness seemed that much thicker with anticipation weighing heavily.

A trail of rose petals wound around the living room and trailed down the hallway, presumably to the bedroom, but you got distracted by a tantalizing aroma. 

You followed that into the kitchen instead and found a skillet filled with something delicious. Other bowls with other fantastic side dishes were arranged randomly around it on the countertops.  

And then you noticed the cake. Unlike the others, the cake was displayed on the table, a package of candles lying next to it. You walked closer to get a better view and couldn’t the grin hat spread across your face.

Clearly, he had made the cake himself. Not that that was off-putting to you in any way. It was really quite cute.

He had made a small two-layer cake which in of itself didn’t look too bad. The sides were not traditionally frosted so, the parts that were visible, you could see that the shape and the softness looked about right. Kind of. 

In lieu of normal frosting, he had attempted to coat them with a crumb frosting of some sort. Despite his best effort, the crumbs didn’t hadn’t spread evenly with some parts having barely any and others having too much.

It looked like he also had issues with the frosting on top. You guessed that he had tried to apply it while the cake was still warm because it was thinner than it should have been, almost glaze-like. Some had even started to leak over the sides before it was cool enough to harden up again.

Even with flaws, it was still the sweetest, frumpiest birthday cake you could ever remember someone making for you.

You stuck out a finger trying to taste the crumb coat when you felt a sharp smack to your ass.

“Oww!” Rubbing it, you saw Reid standing behind you with a towel in his hand. “Did you really just spank me with a towel?”

“It’s not time for cake yet,” he said. He was shirtless, tattoos on display, baggy cargo pants riding low on his hips. There was a hint of tiredness in his eyes but it was mostly irritation. “This part was for last. You were supposed to follow the roses first.”

Ah. He was irritated that you messed up the plan. But you were so excited to see what else he had in store that you didn’t answer back with a sharp quip of your own. “Then lead the way.”

With a sigh, he put his hands on your shoulders and walked you out of the kitchen. His grip was gentle though so you knew he wasn’t seriously frustrated with you.

The path of rose petals came back into view and you realized they were from a real flower and not plastic. A warm feeling spread through you and it only grew the closer the closer the path drew you to the bedroom. Reid stayed just behind you the whole way, your gentle guide.

“The flowers are beautiful, Reid.”

“I know. And a normal person would’ve followed them from the start.”

“Sorry,” you giggled. “The food all looked really good though. Three Michelin stars across the board.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the door, would ya?”

You pushed the door with your fingers, thoughts racing. What were you going to find? That fancy stationary set you’d been eyeing online? A fluffy, tail-wagging puppy? A chest of kinky toys?

With Reid it could any one of the three. Maybe even all three.

Tons of balloons were inflated and rolling around the floor, so much so that you had to kick a few out of the way to be able to step in. Even a birthday banner hung over the bed when he had thumbtacked it into the wall.

But the gift was unmistakable.

The large woven basket was sitting on the dresser, fibers dyed your favorite color was hard to miss.

Then came the stuff that was practically overflowing from said basket. You rummaged through it like a old woman at a yard sale, pulling out something new with every handful.

Jewelry. A soft blanket. Cans of your favorite type of drink. Hand painted ceramics. Some hard cover additions you’d been meaning to add to your personal library. New head phones. Dozens of origami creatures. A tee from your favorite team. Coffee mugs and several blends of beans. Hand-held tools  to replace your old ones with. And not only a stationary set but a wax letter stamp seal as well.

And everything from the basket to the last gift followed the same theme: it was all in your favorite color.

You jumped into his arms and he caught you. “I’m—this is…this is…”

“What?” he said, his breath tickling your ear and fingers gripping your thighs tightly. “Impressive? Inspiring? The best goddamn gift you’ve ever seen?”

“Touching,” you whispered.

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense the soft expression on his face.

“How did you even manage to find some of this stuff in this color?”

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you…”

He went on explaining how he started with the just the stationary (you were right and he had noticed you looking at it) in your favorite color.

Then he added the headphones, also in your favorite color.

Then he’d painted the ceramic pieces himself.  

Eventually thinking up even more potential presents to get, he’d come up with the idea to do everything in that color. The tools were the hardest but he was very proud that he’d been able to pull it off with the help of a custom order from a local business.

“This is super touching. Thanks for putting in this much thought and effort,” you said finally lifting your head up to give him a kiss.

It was meant to be a quick peck but Reid’s lips followed yours when you tried to pull back, turning it into something more passionate. He even managed to lick his way into your mouth before you finally parted, panting for air.

“Mmm,” he breathed, lips back on yours. “You’re eager to get to the next event.”

You made a confused sound in your throat which he swallowed. One of his hands traveled up your leg and over your hip to come to a rest on your lower back. He turned you and that’s when you noticed the bed.

The comforter was already pulled slightly down and more rose petals were scattered all around. He laid you down on the mattress and prowled up your body. The petals were even more fragrant now that you were closer to them.

“What’s the next event?” you asked coyly although it wasn’t hard to guess.

“One kiss for every year you’ve been alive,” he said with a cocked smile. “It was either that many kisses or that many orgasms—I figured all those orgasms might be too much for you though.”

You bit his bottom lip and snuck your fingers under the waistband of his cargo pants suggestively. “How about both?”

He watched in rapture as you removed your shirt, eyes glued to your chest.  

“Anything for you, babe. Happy Birthday.”

_______________

Yay! Thanks for reading. I hope this was alright. 

In my mind, Reid is the type of romantic to make you things, hence the food, origami, and ceramics. But sensual time will also be included just because. 

Honestly, he probably heard what Caleb did for his s/o and, in typical competitive fashion, decided he could do better. He roped in Tyler to keep reader distracted and spent a few hours cooking, decorating, and assembling the massive personalized gift basket. 

They likely did reach fulfill the birthday kiss count but how many orgasms they managed to achieve is up to your imagination.