#because OVER HALF THE RESPONSES HAVE BEEN 'sorry i like coffee better'

[ichthysgospel]

Why do coffee drinkers feel the need to act superior to tea drinkers if i ask you want your favourite kind of tea is i do NOT want to hear "oh actually i like coffee :)" thats not what i fucking asked you is it.

[muchosbesitos]

the other woman part 2

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

warnings: cheating (once more, i do not condone nor endorse this🤨), bit of angst (?), and fluff

author’s note: finally 😱 sorry it took me so long to get it out lol, hope you all enjoy <33 (gave myself ptsd with the frijoles 😓)

word count: 4k

the other woman part one

You re-read the text message from Miguel over and over again until the words were basically imprinted in your brain, the constant reminder of what this relationship really was. It was just an exchange of pleasure, nothing more and nothing less. Though you'd sworn that you wouldn't engage in any of Miguel’s messages anymore, a part of you couldn't help but be curious as to why he wanted to come over now. You took a few deep breaths to calm your self down, your hands clammy as you typed out a response to his message.

You: ok. no hooking up though

Miguel: 👍🏽

About a half hour later, a loud knock was heard on your door, successfully waking you up from the tiny nap you'd taken. You rushed to clean up the empty ice cream container in front of you and wipe away some away some of the stickiness that was in the corner in your mouth. You opened up the door to see Miguel standing there with disheveled hair and his lab coat still on, probably just getting off from work. The two of you awkwardly looked at each other for a couple seconds before you motioned him to come in, opening the door.

He sat on the couch with his arms folded as he watched the tv show in front of him, not saying anything. You had half the mind to ask him what it was he came over for, but you decided just to wait it out and let him speak when he was ready. "So, Dana told me she confronted you at a coffee shop," he spoke up after a couple minutes, his eyes still focused on the tv. "She did, it was my fault though. I shouldn't have been staring at her for so long," you mumbled, still feeling that lingering embarrassment from your previous confrontation with her. He finally shifted his body to face yours, his hands crossed on his lap and he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but quickly clamped it shut.

"She and I are getting a divorce. She's known for a while now that I've been seeing you and she's been seeing someone else," he told you, your eyes widening a bit in confusion. He'd told you that they were on the path towards fixing things, that he wouldn't need your company anymore the last time he was in your bed, so this came as a complete curveball. "I'm sorry. I know you tried to keep your relationship intact," you offered, putting your hand on his arm to offer him some kind of comfort. He placed his arm on top of yours before he spoke again, "I didn't come here for your sympathy. I came here because.. I want you to be with me. No hiding and no illicit affairs."

You pulled your hand back from his, biting down on your bottom lip as you started to consider the possibility of actually being in a relationship with Miguel. You'd expected for this moment to make you feel better, that you'd be up in the air cheering from joy, but all you felt was doubt crawling up to the forefront of your mind. "Please say something," Miguel let out with a small sigh, his gaze on where his hand was holding yours.

“I don't want to be in a relationship with you, Miguel."

"Why? Is it because of Dana confronting you? We can work around that, I promise."

"No. It's just.. your daughter's just gonna see me as the person that fucked up her parents' relationship."

"Our relationship was fucked before you even came in the picture, chula. Me and Dana were planning on talking to her and explain the situation."

You nibbled on your bottom lip as you withheld the real reason that you didn't want to be involved with him, but you were snapped out of your thoughts when Miguel placed his hand on your shoulder. "Tell me what's stopping you from getting in a relationship with me and we can work it out. Or I can leave and give you some time to think about it," he told you, his eyes not breaking contact with yours as he spoke. "I don't trust you, Miguel. And that wasn't a problem when we were just sleeping together because I wasn't the one you were going home to. But now you're asking me to put trust and hope that you want to be in a relationship with me and I can't," you finally admitted, his face slightly falling as you spoke.

He stood up and brushed away some invisible wrinkles from his dress shirt, looking over at you. "I'm here asking you to be with me and you don't trust me?" He asked you, almost like you were in the wrong for even doubting him. "You cheated on Dana, who may I remind you, you were married to. So is the concept of me worrying about you cheating on me so outlandish?" You respond, standing up as you looked up at him. He let out a small sigh, placing his hand on your cheek before he dipped his head down to kiss your forehead. "I’ll gain your trust, okay?"

The next couple of months following that night, the rumors that Miguel was recently single began to surface around. Even though you'd taken the initiative to get some space away from him, your heart couldn't help but ache every time you saw one of his lab assistants throw themselves at him. You kept your head down and tried to avoid Miguel at the lab as much as possible, but you couldn't help but notice his lingering stares when you came in to check up on his work. You quickly took notice of his bare ring finger but you didn't let it get your hopes up, you felt like Miguel could easily replace you at any moment and that overpowered any feelings that you felt towards him.

You were dreading having to go to the company party this afternoon, but you decided on going regardless since it was a retirement party for one of your old mentors. The heels on your feet felt uncomfortable as soon as you put it on and the dress you were wearing felt too tight, like you couldn't breathe properly, but you eventually tried to calm down and headed to the Alchemax building. You could tell that the party was set up last minute by the way the streamers were just tossed around and the balloons had zero shape, but you found yourself enjoying the atmosphere regardless.

After congratulating Dr. Connors on his retirement, you sat down at one of the tables and drank the champagne that was being passed around by the caterers. Your eyes widened when you saw that Miguel arrived, wearing a black button down and black slacks that fit him perfectly. It was similar to his work attire, but you'd been avoiding him for so long that you forgot just how handsome he could really be. You gulped down the rest of your champagne and silently prayed to whatever entity there was above that he wouldn't approach you, you were certain that your heart couldn't handle it.

"Is this seat taken?" You looked up to see Miguel standing there, his arm on the top of the chair as he started pulling it back. "No," you responded simply, averting your gaze from him and you noticed that some of the other women at the party were staring at him. You looked through your peripheral to see that Miguel was already staring at you, one of his fingers coming to trail the lace of the dress you had on. "Why aren't you out there talking with your other co-workers? They've all been feening after they heard you were single," you turned to ask him, wanting to know his reasoning for being here with you. "Feening?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping from his lips as he looked at you. "And who told you I was single, chula? Even though we're not together, you're the one that owns my heart," he whispered, kissing your forehead before he walked away.

You felt your heartbeat in your ears after he left, completely speechless after what he said. One of the coworkers you frequented lunch with, Alison, walked over to talk to you but your mind couldn't help but race with thoughts about what Miguel had said. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Alison waved in front of your face, your eyes focusing on her once more. "Sorry about that," you muttered, rubbing the side of your neck awkwardly. "What's on your mind?" She asked, not bothering to keep up with the conversation about her research. You shared the details of what happened with Miguel without actually naming him, and you felt a sense of relief when she didn't show any judgement despite you acknowledging that you’d gotten with a married man.

"Well, obviously I don't condone cheating and I do agree with the point that you're making, that you'd be stupid to think that he wouldn't do the same thing to you. But it sounds like he's really willing to put in the work into working this out with you, and I mean you'll never really have a guarantee that he won't cheat but it's better to just try it out," she offered her bit of advice and you nodded, letting the words really sink in. You changed the subject back to her research, not wanting to think about your relationship problems with Miguel for one night, and you actually paid attention to what she was saying this time. The two of you ended up having a pleasant time talking but you couldn't help but notice that across the room, Miguel couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"Ew, dude. What the fuck?!" You exclaimed when you felt someone's saliva hit your arm while you were waiting for the valet to bring your car back. "Sorry about that," you heard the same intern from a couple weeks ago speak, a throaty laugh escaping from her lips. "Do you have a problem with me or something?" You turned around, your brows furrowing as you wiped away the residue. "My problem is that you think you're so much better than us because you got to bang Miguel, but the truth is that you're nothing but a miserable homewrecker," she scoffed, coughing into her arm afterwards. "Like you weren't throwing yourself at him just a couple weeks ago," you countered back, though a small part of you knew that she had a point. She got closer to you, her nostrils flaring and you could've sworn she had something else to say but someone came in between you two.

"That's enough, don't you think?" Miguel spoke, facing her as he blocked your body away from view. "But Mr. O’Hara, she started it. I would never stoop down to her level, I promise," she whined as you rolled your eyes, biting your tongue back. "Just so you have it clear, I will never be interested in you. Not now and not ever. And I don't want to hear you calling her a homewrecker again when you don't have all the facts," he responded, his back tense as he spoke to her. You heard her footsteps retreat and Miguel turned to look at you once she was out of sight, tilting your chin up so you'd look at him. "Don't let her get to you, okay?" He whispered, keeping eye contact with you. You nodded, feeling some butterflies in your stomach as you walked to your car.

You called in sick on Monday, waking up with a headache and fever, your body completely sore. You only got up from the bed when you heard a knock on your door, assuming that it was probably your Amazon package. "What are you doing here?" You asked, your nose sniffling a bit as you looked over at Miguel. "I heard about what happened. I came to bring you some stuff," he told you, holding up a Walgreens bag. You opened the door to let him in, grabbing a couple tissues on the way back to the couch. You grabbed some lysol from a kitchen drawer and began to spray the couch along with the area around you so you wouldn't infect Miguel.

"Vaporub?" You mumbled, holding up the small container as you looked up at him. “Look, say what you want but that thing seriously has some healing abilities," he responded seriously and you simply nodded, rubbing some on your chest. "I wasn't sure if you ate already or not so I brought you some chicken soup. There's also a couple cough syrups in there, I wasn't sure which one to get," he added, sitting down on the couch next to you. You looked over at him, noticing how nervous he looked to be around you once more. "How was work?" You asked, facing away from him as you coughed into your arm.

The two of you ended up watching the second season of Narcos on your couch, talking about work or talking about the show itself. "I’m sorry for trying to pressure you into being in a relationship with me right after I asked for a divorce from my ex-wife. I know why you have your doubts and I'm sorry that I didn't take those things into account," he told you, rubbing small circles on your thigh as the second season ended. You leaned your head against his shoulder, finding comfort in the embrace. Truth was, no matter how much you tried to deny your feelings for Miguel, you always found yourself coming back to feel the comfort that he could provide you with. "It's okay. I just wasn't expecting that after you told me that we'd be ending things."

Miguel’s movements on your thighs suddenly ceased and he turned to look at you, holding your chin up. "I know you're not exactly ready to be in a relationship with me and I can't really blame you for that. but I've been wondering, what if we take this slow? Like I'll take you out once you feel better and we can start getting to know more about each other than what we look like naked," he offered and you had to bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from smiling too hard. "I'd like that a lot," you responded, leaning into kiss his cheek before pulling away, remembering that you had a cold.

About a week later, your cold had completely faded away and you got a text from Miguel, telling you to keep your schedule open today. You couldn't help the large grin that appeared on your face at the prospect of finally going on a date with Miguel, at finally being able to be seen in public with him without any repercussions. Nothing could bring down your mood today, not even your bitchy coworkers spreading rumors or the dirty looks you received when you walked down the hall. You did your best to finish your work as soon as possible so you'd have enough time to shower and get ready.

You'd chosen to wear a simple black dress with some flats since you weren't completely sure where Miguel was taking you, not wanting to look too casual or too fancy. You practically ran over to the door when you heard a knock on your door, your eyes widening when you saw miguel and his daughter standing there. "Hola!" Gabriella told you and you could've sworn it was like looking at a replica of Miguel. "Hola chiquitina, how are you?" You smiled, opening the door and stepping back so they'd come in. Gabriella began to talk about her day at school and soccer practice, a small smile forming on your face at just how energetic she seemed to be.

Miguel tapped you on the shoulder, handing you a bouquet of flowers with a small smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind that I brought Gabi over. Her babysitter wasn't available and i thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you to get to know her," he told you, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek. "No worries, she seems like a lovely kid anyways," you responded, bringing the flowers up to your nose as a smile crossed your face. You went over to the kitchen to put them in a vase, setting them on the kitchen table when you felt a tug on your dress.

"Are you gonna be my new mami?" Gabriella asked, a toothy grin on her face as she looked up at you expectantly. You kneeled down to her level, holding her small hands in yours. "I'm not gonna be your new mommy, because you already have a mommy that loves you and cares for you very much. I have no intentions of replacing your mom, but I do have every intention of taking care of you and loving you," you responded honestly, brushing a loose strand of her hair back. The answer seemed to satisfy her since she pulled you into a tight hug, burying her face into you. "Thank you for being nice! A lot of the kids at school complain about their step-mommies being mean."

Miguel ended up taking you two to an arcade so you and Gabriella could have some fun together and have an opportunity to bond. "Papi! Can we have wings, please?" Gabriella asked when you all stepped inside, automatically running to the food court. "Tenemos frijoles en la casa, chiquitina," he protested but he didn't really sound like he meant it. (we have beans at home) "Papi, we've been eating frijoles for two days now. Let's take a break, pleaseee?" She asked him, putting on her best puppy eyes for him. "Yeah Miguel, pleaseee?" You asked, joining Gabriella and making puppy eyes. He let out a small groan, rubbing his temples before he let himself be taken to the food court. "You two combined is gonna be the death of me, I swear."

Though Miguel had been the one to protest the most against buying food, he'd been the one who ordered twelve wings and a large order of fries. "¿No que no querías?" Gabriella teased him, taking a large sip from her milkshake. (thought you didn’t want any) "Well, I couldn't leave you two eating alone, would be very rude of me," he responded as he took a bite from his fries, making Gabriella giggle. “Should've brought your frijoles in a tupperware," you added in as a joke, though his brows furrowed as he considered it. "Might have to do that for the movie theater next time. I swear, those prices are a scam," he muttered before he went back to eating.

The rest of the meal was spent between Gabriella sharing stories about her friends and how she made five goals at practice today and you trying to keep up with what she was telling you, hoping to score some brownie points with her. Miguel had a small smile on his face as he watched you interact with Gabriella, staying silent for most of the meal. "Is something wrong?" You asked Miguel when Gabriella ran off to get the tickets for the games you'd all be playing. "No, the opposite actually. It's so nice seeing you interact well with Gabriella. I was worried that she wouldn't like you but I think she felt reassured when you told her you weren't trying to replace Dana," he responded, holding your hand as he walked with you to where Gabriella was.

You groaned as you struggled to knock the bottles down, but you didn't want to give up out of your want for the huge Spider-Man plushie. Miguel placed a hand on your shoulder, telling you to step to the side before he handed his tickets to the man at the stand. He threw the balls at the bottles, his forearms flexing with every movement and you could've sworn you felt a bit of drool collecting at the side of your mouth. "Which one do you want?" He asked you after he effectively knocked down the bottles, the man at the stand practically seething at how easy it'd been for him. You pointed to the Spider-Man plushie, a big smile on your face as you held it close to your chest once he’d handed it over.

"Thank you," you told Miguel, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. "Anything to see you smile that way," he remarked, his words always having the ability to make you get flustered. The two of you headed to where Gabriella was at, joining her in the basketball game that she was playing. She let out a scoff after Miguel won, clearly pissed off. "It's not fair! You're basically a giant, papi!" She whined, looking up at him. "Don't be bitter, chiquita. I'll even let you keep the plushie if you behave," he responded, letting out a small chuckle. "Kid has a point, y'know?" You respond, letting out a laugh of your own. Miguel playfully rolled his eyes and bent down to tickle Gabriella, her giggles filling up the mostly empty arcade room.

The three of you went to try out a couple games and you teamed up with Gabriella after she'd asked you to. the two of you had lost against Miguel in the hockey game and he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as he saw the frowns on your faces. "What was unfair about this game, Gabi?" He asked her, his voice taking on a slightly teasing tone. "You're the only unfair part, papi. You're just too good," she grumbled, running off to go play whack a mole. You and Miguel headed towards the car games and even though he could hardly fit on the motorcycle, it was still an enjoyable activity for the both of you.

Miguel handed her the My Little Pony plushie that he'd claimed to get for himself after he won the basketball game, a bright smile on Gabriella’s face as you all walked out of the arcade. "Did you enjoy yourself, nena?" Miguel asked Gabriella, the kid practically beaming as she held the Pinkie Pie plushie. "I did, thank you for letting me meet your girlfriend papi," she replied, and you didn't have the heart to tell her that you weren't Miguel’s girlfriend yet so you stayed quiet. "Thanks for not telling her that we're not dating. She's been really understanding about the divorce but she doesn't quite grasp the concept of the talking stage," he spoke up after gabi fell asleep in the back seat, your eyes drifting from the window to him. "You don't have to thank me for doing the bare minimum, Miguel. I like your kid and i don't wanna see her upset," you assured him, holding his hand that wasn't on the steering wheel.

For the first time since you and Miguel had been intertwined with each other, he brought you over to his place. he carried a sleeping Gabriella inside, taking her with such ease to her room and you couldn't help but look around at the decorations. At the scattered books on the shelves, a combination of some peer-reviewed science journals and kid's stories. You felt like for the first time you'd caught a glimpse of who Miguel was behind that exterior that he put on and you wanted to learn as much as you could. He came back to the living room, wrapping his around your waist as he leaned his head in the crook of your neck. "Ready for bed, chula?"

Miguel didn't try to initiate anything sexual and neither did you, but that didn't stop the two of you from clashing tongues after you guys changed into your pajamas. You'd missed the way he tasted on your tongue, the way he kissed you like he was dying of thirst and you were the only source of water. The two of you eventually came to a stop when a knock was heard on the door, Gabriella standing there with her pinkie pie plushie. "Can I sleep with you guys?" She asked, rubbing her eyes since she was still half asleep. Miguel nodded, making some space in between you two to let her lay down. As you fell asleep that night with your arms wrapped around Gabriella, you couldn't help but feel grateful that Miguel and his little girl had welcomed you to be a part of their family.

@m4dyy @ginnysculture

[ellecdc]

The Drink Snob (part 3)

mafia au!Remus Lupin x fem!reader - 3.1k

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4

CW: attempted drink tampering, attempted human trafficking, a lot of swearing because it's Remus and reader (obviously)

Synopsis: You take Elle's advice, Remus returns the favour.

You waited at the end of the counter for your mocha to be called through the café. You were feeling pretty good about yourself; you had an interview lined up at a nice restaurant at the end of this week, you’d guest lectured for Minerva and got great feedback from both her and the students, and you’d found time to facetime Elle twice more.

The café was fairly busy with a fair number of students trying to get their caffeine fix between classes. The barista apologized to you for the wait, but you waved him off; “I’m not in any rush right now, take your time.” You had said to him.

“That was quite polite of you.” A voice to your right commented. 

You turned and raised your eyebrow at the dark-haired man. His hair was an array of curls pulled back into a low bun, and he kept his onyx gaze fixed on you. 

“And that surprises you?”

He smirked at you. “From a yank? I’d have to say a little.”

“Right,” You scoffed, “I’m not American.”

He looked at you strangely at that. “You sound like an American.”

“Maybe I’m just practicing for a part.” You shot back.

He hummed in response. “A budding actress, hm?”

Before you could respond, your name was called at the counter.

“Peppermint mocha for Y/N!”

You picked up your cup and turned back to the man. “As nice as this was, I have to take my leave.”

“Come to dinner with me.” He interjected quickly. You stared at him incredulously.

“I’m sorry?”

“Come on, I want to hear more about this budding acting career of yours.” He said as he winked. 

Your immediate thought was hell no. But then you thought of The Man ™ from the pub last week, and how surprising and nice it was to finally connect with someone. Wasn’t this exactly what Elle was saying you should be doing? It went against every part of your better judgement, but this opportunity had been placed in front of you twice, were you really in any position to ignore it?

“What’s your name?” You asked. You were met with a victorious smile.

“Tan.”

You considered him for a moment.

“Fine, one dinner.”

He clapped his hands together. “Wonderful, how about tonight? There’s a Spanish fusion restaurant that just opened downtown that I’ve been dying to try. I could pick you up. Say 7?” 

You looked the man up and down; you may be stepping out of your comfort zone agreeing to a date with a stranger you met at a coffee shop, but you weren’t suicidal. 

“I’ll meet you there.” You offered. Tan seemed to deflate a little, but the emotion passed quickly over his face.

He gave you the address and then actually kissed you on the hand before you turned and exited the café. 

Were all Brit’s this bold? Was this just an English thing? You walked back to the faculty building hoping this was a meet cute opportunity you could tell Elle about. 

“It’s kinda smart, really.” James commented, taking another drink from his water. 

“What is?” Remus asked, not looking up from the salad he was pushing around on the plate in front of him.

“Scouting near the universities.” 

Remus looked up at his mate then, his black hair as wild as ever as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His knee was bouncing under the table, and Remus knew he was just trying to make conversation while they waited for Lestrange to make his appearance, but James could be so thick sometimes.

“Yes, James. It’s almost as if the traffickers have a method that they follow to find young women they can pick up.” Remus muttered quietly, finally shifting his gaze up to the door. 

“Sorry.” James muttered as he ran his hand through his hair again. “I just hate waiting.”

Remus chuckled. “I can tell.” 

James made it through at least a minute and a half of silence before Remus finally took pity on him. “Harry’s so close to walking now, eh?” 

James’ face lit up as he began a long tangent of his son’s different methods of movement which ranged from scooting, crawling, shifting, and rolling. “And Moony, yesterday he stood at the coffee table and walked around it all by himself! He was holding the coffee table, but still!” 

Remus smiled at his friend’s happiness just as he noticed their target entering the building. 

“He’s here.” Remus muttered into his collar which hid his speak piece.

“Greasy bastard, how do they manage to look creepier and creepier every time I see them?” Sirius muttered darkly into Remus and James’ earpiece from his car parked out front. 

Sirius hated not being able to join on some stakeouts on account of his family. For example, Rabastan Lestrange is technically related to Sirius through marriage as he is the brother-in-law of Sirius’ first cousin Bellatrix. Sirius and Bellatrix, both Black’s by birthright, and the Lestrange’s have historically held ties to the mob boss Tom Riddle who had his followers call him Lord Voldemort. Pretentious fucks at best, but at worst they were prejuidiced, racist, bigots who were involved in human trafficking, which meant it was very important that they get caught and stopped, not the other way around. Which meant Sirius had to play back-up. 

Remus was fine with that. James could be a little annoying on account of his ADHD, but he’d take that over Sirius’ inner rage any day. 

Remus got it, he really did; Sirius had been surrounded by this his whole life – born and raised to carry on the Black line of arseholes, and he’s seen things many people haven’t. His family was awful and what these women and children went through at their hands was horrible, but being hot-headed in the field didn’t save them.

Remus figured Sirius would probably make a good police officer if they weren’t so corrupt, though he would struggle playing by the rules.

Maybe in another life. 

“He’s got a seat in the far left. It’s secluded and near an emergency exit. Reg, are you able to get eyes back there without being caught?” James asked into his own speak piece. 

“On it.” Was Reg’s response. 

Remus watched the door as James watched Rabastan. People came and went but James never mentioned a change in our target, so Remus disregarded them.

Suddenly, Remus’ breath caught in his throat. No. Not her. 

“We should try the croquettes.” James said - their code.

No.

“No.”

James looked up at Remus. “What?”

“It’s...” Remus started, but he didn’t know how to finish. James kept his eyes on Rabastan as you walked past Remus’ line of sight.

“Wait, is that-” James started but they were interrupted by Regulus.

“I’ve got eyes on the emergency exit.” 

“Copy.” James muttered and looked back to Remus. “What is it?”

“What’s going on?” Sirius interjected in their earpieces. 

“Is that the girl?” James whispered to him, causing Remus to scrunch his eyes shut.

“Wait, what?” Reg called.

James sighed. “Remus’ girl from The Drunken Sailor, it’s her.”

“Wait.” Sirius yelled causing both men to wince. “The girl Rabastan is meeting, it’s Remus’ girl?”

“She’s not my girl.”

Sirius called out the wrong name. “Right?”  Sirius carried on over top of Remus. 

“Y/N.” Remus corrected.

“Oh my God,” James said wide eyed at him. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I do not.” Remus started before changing gears, “fuck off, Prongs. Now is not the time. We’ve got to get her out of here.” 

“Easy, Remus.” Regulus encouraged him quietly.

“Tell us how you want to go about this.” James added.

Both Black brothers shouted a what over the earpieces. 

“The plan stays the same, Prongs. Same as it always is – get her out.” Sirius barked.

“No, Padfoot. This has taken on a new element. If Remus isn’t careful, he could be accused of nefarious actions himself. She’s scheduled for an interview at the restaurant in a few days.” James chided. “It’s your call.” He said to Remus.

She wasn’t supposed to get caught up in this. 

She was supposed to go back to school and stay away from dingy bars – and dingy men. She was so clever; how could she have gotten swept up with Rabastan?

No.

Don’t be an arse, Remus.

These men were smart. They knew how to come off completely charming, and targeted women, well, women exactly like her.

She was a student, she was foreign, and she was probably alone when he approached her. She was their perfect target.

Remus just hoped she had kept her wits about her; she had noticed so quickly that his drink had been tampered with, hopefully she’d be just as alert tonight. Remus knew from the staff at the café that she had declined his invitation to pick her up, hopefully she didn’t give him her number, either. 

“Do you want me to swap, Remus?” Regulus queried over our earpiece. 

Did Remus want him to swap? 

What did Remus want?

Remus kind of wanted to be the one to be sitting over there with you.

He turned to look at your table to see you place your jacket on the hook of the booth beside you. As your head was turned, Rabastan’s hand hovered over your glass of water which began to fizz.  

“Moons?” James asked quietly again. 

But before Remus could respond, you looked back up and your gaze found him. Your eyes and nose scrunched a little as you considered him as if you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You finally shook your head slightly and offered Remus a small smile before turning back to Rabastan. 

Well, you knew Remus was here now. 

So much for keeping her out of this. 

“Now.” Remus said as he stood from his place at the table. 

The world had to be fucking with you at this point, right? You weren’t actually seeing The Man™? He must just be a figment of your imagination?

Apparently, he was not just a figment of your imagination because he was suddenly standing at the end of your table as if he was about to take your order.

“We really must stop meeting each other like this.” He said with a smirk.

You chuckled nervously as you stared at his beautiful face. “Uhm, yeah. Haha. What are the odds?”

“Uhm, do you mind?” Tan said as he considered The Man ™ and you with furrowed brows.

“I do, actually.” He said severely, before a second man with a mop of curly black hair sidled up behind him looking far more pleased than his counterpart.

“Rabastan, my man, it’s been too long.” He said entirely too loudly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you offered the people around you a nervous smile. 

Tan seemed to pale at the sight of the newcomer. Suddenly, his glass of water was turned over in front of him as he scrambled to stand. Before Tan could get anywhere, the curly headed man embraced him in an aggressive looking hug that involved an arm around his neck.

“You bastard, I can’t believe we let it go this long without catching up. Why don’t we have a little family reunion, hm? I know some cousins of yours who are just dying to see how you are.” He announced to the entire restaurant as he man-handled Tan to the emergency exit behind your booth.

You watched with your mouth hanging open as the door closed behind them and the restaurant returned to its appropriate volume. 

You turned your head towards The Man ™ as he slid into the booth Tan had just been dragged out of for all intents and purposes.

“What?” was all you could manage to mutter. 

“Don’t drink your water” was his response.

You looked down to see the table – now pooled with Tan’s water – and sat there in front of you was your water with a filmy layer on top. 

“What the fuck just happened?” you muttered more to yourself than anything.

“I returned the favour.” The Man™ replied with a shrug as he mopped up the water on the table that was starting to spill onto the bench of the booth you were seated on.

“What? Were you following me around waiting for some guy to drug me?” You asked incredulously.

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s not that deep.”

You scoffed in outrage. “Do not tell me to relax you fucker, I was nearly drugged, and lord knows what else.”

“I know exactly what else.” The man snarked back. “He would have brought you out to a van that his buddies would have pulled up upon his command, they would have dumped your purse and all of your belongings in the dumpster behind some business a few blocks away, flown you to Portugal and sold you to the highest bidder, and that’s ignoring everything that would have happened in between. I can assure you, darling, that there was only one fucker here and he was just dragged away by my mate there. So please for all that is holy, relax.” He pressed the end of his sentence as he dumped your glass over as well just as a server came by.

“Oh, let me clean this up for you!” The server exclaimed at the mess just as The Man apologized in faux embarrassment. “I’ll get you two new glasses. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”

Completely stunned, you decided to field the question to the infuriating man across from you who, fucking damnit, looked just as handsome as the first time you’d seen him. 

“Just the waters for now, thank you.” He said with a smile which flashed his dimples, the bastard. 

“Are you okay?” He asked softly which was in stark contrast from his demeanor before the server came.

“I’m fine.” You muttered probably more aggressively than you should have. “Fuck, I’m going to kill her.” You growled as you leaned your elbows onto the table and shoved your face into your hands.

“Who’s that now?”

You groaned, hands still covering your face. “My friend, the bitch. This is all her fault.” 

“How so?”

“This was her idea! Going out with him, I mean.” You answered miserably as you leaned back against the booth and crossed your arms.

“Your friend knew that guy?” He asked somewhat alarmed.

You snorted a laugh. “No. She just thought I should get out more. Was so worried about me being all sad and lonely in this new city. This’ll teach her.” You muttered as you picked imaginary lint from your skirt.

The man was mirroring you; leaning against the back of his booth with his arms crossed as he seemed to consider you.

“Is that why you started handing out your CV?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “My what?” 

The man dramatically rolled his eyes. “Oh, my apologies. I meant your resume.”

You nodded your head in understanding before slamming your hand down on the still damp table. “How do you know I’ve been handing out resumes? Are you actually stalking me?” 

“No, even your luck doesn’t seem to be that bad. Though, being nearly drugged twice is not a good track record.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you were the one nearly drugged last time.”

The man smiled at you and something about it felt far softer than you felt the moment called for. “You applied at my mum’s restaurant – the one on 72nd. She was going on about finally having live music in the joint; I saw your CV.”

“I didn’t apply as a musician.” You shouted somewhat panickily. You cleared your throat before correcting yourself. “I mean, I just...I was just looking for a job as a server.”

He squinted his eyes at you before responding. “Well, good luck trying to say no to my mum.”

“What are the chances of me getting drugged if I work at your mum’s restaurant?”

This surprised a bark of laugh from him. “Actually, your chances would be quite a bit lower.”

“I don’t know...” you said suspiciously. “Every time I’ve been with you, drinks have been drugged.”

He hummed as he squinted his eyes. “Hazard of the trade.”

“And what trade is that?”

“Crime.” He said simply. You chuckled, but as you looked back up at the man, you noticed he wasn’t laughing.

“Oh, you’re serious?” You commented.

The corner of his mouth seemed to quirk at your word choice, but he offered you one quick nod.

“But...you’re the kind of criminal to have your drinks drugged and to stop other people from getting drugged?”

He moved his head side-to-side as if to say sort of.

“And you’re telling me this...because?”

“Because” he said as he seemed to square himself, “you ought to know that before you accept the position.” 

The Man stood and left some bills on the table. “Are you safe to get home on your own?”

Still reeling from this whole ordeal, you nodded dumbly at him. He offered you a soft smile.

“Take it easy, Y/N.” He said as he left through the emergency exit.

It was only at his use of your name that you realized you still haven't caught his.

Remus was kicking himself. He should have just asked if you were okay and went about business as usual. He shouldn’t have sat with you, he shouldn’t have confessed about his mother’s restaurant, and he definitely shouldn’t have told you about the nature of his career. But he couldn’t let you walk into that interview without knowing what you were potentially getting yourself into.

And what would have happened if you had taken the job and then seen him there? Then you really would have suspected him of stalking.

Well, Remus has technically stalked before, but not in like a stalkery way, you know? It was like...

It was surveillance! 

Fuck, he was grasping at straws.

It just seemed like the world was hell bent on shoving you in Remus’ path. And when Remus first met you – he was insistent on keeping you away from him, from this.

But you just had to drop your resume off at his family’s restaurant.

And you just had to get picked up by a human trafficking sociopath. 

So, if you were going to insist on walking this dangerous line Remus calls life, you might as well know where the line is.

He didn’t know what he was more worried about: that you’d take his warning or that you wouldn’t. 

Continue to part four here.

[thehmn]

Just some follow up thoughts/responses on my last post.

When I say I’m a cleaner people on the internet often feel like they have to be nice about it but it’s okay. I know it’s seen as demeaning low-paying work in a lot of countries but here in Denmark it’s considered a proper respectable job that pays pretty well. I’m paid way more than people who answer phones at call centers (like when you buy a ticket over the phone) and only slightly less than my sister’s job as a journalist despite her getting a fancy degree. I’m only balancing on the poverty line because my ADHD is keeping me from working full time, but at the same time cleaning is perfect for me. I get to move around a bunch and I don’t work the same place every day.

And the pandemic really made people understand the value of cleaners. At the start of the pandemic most businesses didn’t feel safe having someone like me visit them because I visit a bunch of places and is around strangers all the time. They thought “Yeah it’s not going to be as nice as usual but surely we can swipe our own floors” That lasted all of one month before they changed their minds. People are messy (especially with coffee) so keeping a workplace clean requires dedicated time. Also, so far I haven’t had Covid once because, you know, even cleaners like to stay clean.

Trust me, if you’ve ever had the thought “Oh well, gives the cleaner something to do. It’s their job anyway” after spilling something you might as well start being rude to waiters and cashiers too. We have plenty to do even if nobody ever spilled anything. Do you think the dust just blows away? Or alternatively, have you been wondering why your workplace is so dusty? Might it have something to do with the coffee stains on the wall that keep disappearing? Cleaners aren’t talked about a lot in conversations about treating essential workers better because we usually show up after you go home but that doesn’t make it any less rude.

And talking about essential workers, remember that list that made the rounds on the internet during the pandemic of what jobs should be considered essential and non-essential and how people got really up in arms about artists being on the non-essential side? As someone who literally got half my pay from cleaning and the other half from working as an artist at the time, my job as a cleaner was a 100% more important during a pandemic. “But people are stuck indoors. They need entertainment for morale and not going stir crazy” I’m sorry but there’s an almost limitless well of entertainment on the internet you haven’t consumed yet. Yeah, I want to see (and make) new art too but trust me, it would mean nothing if we had to walk around in filth. There are a lot of other situations where artists would be more important than cleaners but a pandemic ain’t it.

And finally, I kept saying robot cleaner instead of Roomba in my last post because Roomba is a brand name. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Roomba in the wild despite seeing loads of robot vacuums.

Have a lovey, hopefully clean day ✨

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Mafia! BTS - You’re Insecure about Your Weight

Warnings: trigger warning for ED!!, smut, a bit of NSFW, profanity

A/N: This request was submitted a while ago in response to Stray Kids! Mafia - They Want You to Sit on Their Lap but You’re Insecure about Your Weight so I hope you like this fic! I'm sorry it took me so long <3

P.S. I didn't proofread so I'm sorry if there are any typos.

* * *

Jin

You were getting ready in the bathroom; it was work day so both you and Jin were awake early in the morning. You hurried into the kitchen where Jin was sitting at the table, reading the news on his laptop with a cup of coffee.

"Any more coffee left, Jin?" you asked absent-mindedly as you reached for the pot.

"Of course, love," said Jin equally distracted, however, he was not distracted by the news or because it was so early you both just wanted to roll back into bed. Jin's eyes glazed across your body; your bare feet and pyjama shorts and a shirt you had claimed from your boyfriend months ago that seemed to perpetually smell like him no matter how many times you had washed it.

When you turned around with a cup of hot coffee in your hands, ready to nearly jog back to the bathroom to finish your make up, Jin took the cup carefully from your hands and set in on the table.

"Jin, what are you doing?" you asked slowly.

"Admiring," he spoke with a voice so deep and husky it made goosebumps rise on your arms and legs.

Jin moved his arm around your waist and pushed his chair back so that you could sit on his lap.

"Jin..." you protested, "I'm going to be late." It was only half a lie. In truth, you were insecure about your weight. You could always feel the stares on your body when you appeared with Jin in public; comparing you to him.

Jin didn't say anything but pulled you on his lap. You closed your eyes as he kissed your lips, your hand caressing his freshly shaven cheek.

"Jin..." you protested again when he moved from your lips to your jaw and your neck, leaving soft kisses on his way. "Jin... Aren't I too heavy?" you mumbled, finding yourself hoovering above his lap. Jin let out a breath of laughter and continued kissing your neck, his arms only tightening around your waist.

"Jin," you begged once again and this time the tone of your voice stroke a chord with Jin.

"You can't be serious, princess?" asked Jin, finally lifting his head to look you in the eye. You couldn't say anything.

"Sit down, princess," said Jin when he realized you have been hoovering over his lap. The look in his eyes was nothing short of demand and you could not help but do exactly as he asked.

"Where is this coming from, Y/N?" questioned Jin as you avoided his gaze. "Y/N?"

"I just... I see the way people look at us when we're together, Jin," you began. "I'm not good enough for y-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Y/N," warned Jin. His grip on your waist tightened as he stood up and sat you on top of the table, him standing between your legs, your foreheads nearly touching.

"The only thing they are thinking, princess, is that you could do better than a gangster," said Jin lowly, his hands sliding up your bare thighs. "That they wish they had you instead," continued Jin and took your hips, pulling them closer to him as his lips found yours.

"You will be late today, after all, princess."

Namjoon

You woke up to a cold spring morning but it was the weekend, thankfully, so you could sleep in. You curled up in your comforter but it did nothing to warm you. Instead, you scooted closer to your boyfriend who was or at least seemed sound asleep. You wrapped your hands around his arm and snuggled closer.

"What is it, baby?" whispered Namjoon in his sleep.

"I'm cold," you mumbled against his arm.

"Come 'ere, baby," whispered Namjoon, his entire chest vibrating with his rough morning voice. He lifted his arm to let you in, his body absolutely radiating heat. You could not help but moan when Namjoon wrapped his arms around you and warmth engulfed your body. He had yet a better idea, however, and pulled you on top of his body so that his chest was your pillow.

"Wait... Joon," you mumbled. "I'm going to crush you."

Namjoon smiled to himself and tangled his fingers in your soft hair. But as you began shifting to get off him, Namjoon's eyes fluttered open.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked with a voice much more awake.

"Who is going to keep me warm tomorrow if I smother you with my weight today?" you said, neither entirely serious but not joking either. You have been feeling insecure about your weight for a while now, especially when you compared yourself to Namjoon who was a living demi-god.

"What are you talking about, Y/N?" asked Namjoon when you managed to slip from his chest and back onto his side. You were going to get up and avoid confessing your insecurities to him, but Namjoon's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

"You're not going anywhere, Y/N, until you talk to me," demanded Namjoon, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"It's nothing, Joon, I was just joking," you tried to brush it off but he wasn't buying it. His grip on your waist only toughened. You leaned back in your pillow, defeated by the stubbornness in your boyfriend's eyes. Namjoon leaned against his elbow as he studied your expression.

"Come on, talk to me, baby," he spoke softly this time and tucked a thin strand of your hair behind your ear. The gentle tone of his voice only made you feel worse. Tears prickled in your eyes despite your best efforts; suddenly you felt weak and whiny although your insecurities had been weighing down on you for weeks.

A tear slipped from each of your eyes. "I'm sorry," you whispered and covered your face with your hand.

"Y/N..." said Namjoon in a tone so quiet and gentle you thought your heart was going to break. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," you whispered although more tears welled up in your eyes, "I'm just being stupid. I'm sorry..." Your chin quivered before you turned around and buried your face in your pillow.

"Y/N," said Namjoon as he kissed your neck lovingly, "Don't talk about yourself that way," his voice firmed. "Don't you dare put yourself down, do you understand?" Namjoon drew circles with his thumb against your abdomen, pressing more loving kisses on your arm and neck.

"Look at me, Y/N," he insisted. It took all you had in you to face him. Namjoon brushed away some of your tears and kissed your lips. "You're perfect," he assured before kissing you deeply. "If you say something like this again, we're going to have a problem."

You couldn't help but laugh through your tears as you nodded, brushing away your tears.

"Okay?" said Namjoon, a smile spreading across his lips. "That's my girl," he whispered against your lips before deepening the kiss.

Yoongi

"You shouldn't work that hard," you said to your boyfriend when you brought him a cup of extra-espresso-shot iced americano. You went to your usual weekly grocery shopping trip, this time without Yoongi because he was buried in work, and stopped by a coffee shop on the way back.

"Oh, you're an angel, baby," sighed Yoongi and gratefully took the iced americano from your hands. He took a sip immediately, leaning back in his office chair. His pitch black eyes lingered on you, wishing he could take a nap with you instead of dealing with countless companies' bureaucracy.

"Come here, baby," said Yoongi instead as he put away his coffee and opened his arms for you.

"Are you sure?" you licked your lips nervously. Yoongi frowned.

"What are you talking about?" asked Yoongi.

"No, n-nothing," you shrugged it off even though you had spent the better part of grocery shopping reading calorie labels on the back of the packagins. You have been feeling the pressure of losing weight for a couple of months now although you always struggled with body image when it came to your weight. The pressure, however, was not generated by Yoongi in any way; perhaps on a subconscious level where you considered how you look like in comparison to him; how people looked at you together...

You sat on Yoongi's lap gently, careful not to apply too much weight on him. You leaned in to kiss him but Yoongi pulled away, an icy cold stare in his dark eyes.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" he spoke slowly.

"What?" you asked innocently although you knew that he knew what you were doing.

"Sit down," ordered Yoongi.

"I am," you lied as you licked your lips. Yoongi tilted his head, a look so determined in his eyes he did not even blink.

"Sit down," repeated Yoongi so sternly that for a moment you were actually scared.

You slowly eased your weight and sat down properly but your eyes watered at the same time. You tried to look away but it was too late. Yoongi took your cheek and made you look at him. His lips parted when he saw how much this really affected you. His thumb caressed away a single tear that escaped your eyes.

"Tell me what's going on, kitten," asked Yoongi gently, his voice nearly a whisper. You stared at him, your gaze flickering between his eyes. You bit your lip to keep more tears from falling but it did not help. Yoongi pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you as you buried your face in his neck, suddenly crying your heart out. You told Yoongi about how you have been struggling lately; how you have always been struggling with your self-image really. He listened patiently although he could not believe you would think of yourself as anything less than perfect in every way. To him you were the most beautiful woman in the world; smart, gentle and kind.

"Why didn't you tell me before, kitten?" asked Yoongi after you had calmed down a bit.

"I just... I didn't want to upset you, Yoongi," you shook your head and brushed away the tear stains from your cheeks.

"I am upset," confirmed Yoongi, his hold around your waist tightening slightly as you looked up into his eyes. "I'm upset that you didn't trust me enough to tell me sooner-"

"Yoongi, no! It's not that I don't trust you! I trust you with my life!" you cried. "It's just... This is such a stupid problem, it does not even matter-"

"Of course it matters!" said Yoongi angrily. "The fact that you feel anything less than perfect in any way is something I will never understand and the fact that I don't know how to make you see yourself the way I see you, is driving me insane." Suddenly you realized that Yoongi's anger was not at all targeted at you but at himself; how he wasn't able to make you feel good enough.

Yoongi stood up with you in his arms and sat you down on his desk. His forehead rested against yours, his hands propped against the desk on each side of your legs.

"Can't you see I would die for you, Y/N?"

Hoseok

"What if we just stay in tonight, Hobi?" you asked your boyfriend, leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, in the midst of picking your outfit for the benefit tonight.

"Why? I thought you were looking forward to it," said Hoseok as he fixed his bowtie in front of the bathroom mirror. "Are you feeling alright, baby?" He came to you and cupped your cheeks, looking absolutely stunning in his tuxedo.

"I'm okay," you nodded, "I'm just not feeling like going out tonight..." You were not exactly lying, however the reason why you did not feel like going out was something you had been trying to hide from Hoseok for weeks now. You could notice perfectly well yourself that you had put on some weight without even weighing yourself. The clothes fit you tighter than usual which already made you more self-conscious.

Hoseok glanced at the bedroom behind you. The bed was littered with dresses and outfits you thought did not look good on you. The strange thing was that you always knew what to wear; fashion was something you actually really enjoyed and Hoseok knew this because he loved to take you shopping. Clothes and fashion was a passion you both shared.

"What's really going on, Y/N?" asked your boyfriend soberly.

"What do you mean?" you asked genuinely before glancing over your shoulder and realizing what a mess you've made.

"Since when do you not know what to wear?" asked Hoseok, moving past you into the bedroom to take a look at the display of dresses on the bed.

"I just... Wasn't feeling inspired tonight," you only half-lied. You knew what you wanted to wear but the dress you picked out in your head suddenly did not seem to look good on you anymore; at least from your point of view.

"Yeah, but why?" insisted Hoseok, returning his gaze to you. Your crossed your arms over your abdomen subconsciously, not even realizing what you did until you saw Hoseok's gaze follow your gesture.

"Y/N?" he asked one more time and came up to you.

"It's nothing," you spoke quietly. Hoseok narrowed his eyes at you.

"It's fine, really, Hoseok," you said more confidently, "It's just... I've gained a bit of weight lately... I'm sure you've noticed... and I just..." your voice trailed off. "But I'm going to be fine; I'll work out more, I'll watch my-"

"Y/N, stop it," demanded Hoseok as he cut you off and cupped your cheeks with his big, warm hands. "What are you even talking about? No, I haven't noticed you gaining weight," he frowned, "And you know why? Because it doesn't fucking matter, that's why. You're perfect to me any way you are, Y/N, do you understand me?"

You stared in Hoseok's brown eyes, wishing you were worthy of his love. Your eyes welled up with tears as you looked away, hundreds of reasons why you were not good enough for Hoseok replaying in your mind.

"Y/N," spoke Hoseok gently, "Are you crying?"

"I'm fine," you said quickly as you turned around and wiped away the tears.

"You're not fine, don't lie to me," said Hoseok and took your elbow as he caught you when you tried to leave. He wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled you to his chest as he hugged you from behind, burying his nose in your neck.

"I'm begging you, Y/N," spoke Hoseok fervently, "Don't even try to lose any weight. You're perfect just the way you are... And I won't have you put yourself down like this, do you hear me?" he demanded. You were crying but his arms held you from falling apart.

"Do you understand me, Y/N?" spoke Hoseok more gently. You found yourself nodding as you sniffled. Hoseok turned you around and pulled you into his arms.

"That's right, that's a good girl," he whispered soothingly and kissed your hair.

Jimin

You were cleaning around the apartment one afternoon, singing along the music on the TV. You were deep in thought when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You gasped, jumping around with your hand across your heart as you realized it was only Jimin.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, baby," he smiled guiltily, his hands resting on your hips.

"You're home already?" you blurted although it came out differently than you had intended.

"You're not happy to see me, kitten?" asked Jimin, half taken aback, half amused.

"N-No, of course I am," you spoke quickly, "I just, I wasn't expecting you till this evening, that's all." You slipped from Jimin's arms before he could kiss you and went to the bedroom to grab a hoodie. You wore nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop that fit you tightly; too tightly. You pulled on a baggy hoodie that swallowed your body and hid your curves.

When you turned around, Jimin was standing by the bedroom door, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh? Nothing," you said quickly. Jimin kept your gaze locked with his as he made his way over to you. He leaned in to kiss you which you gladly responded to, wrapping your hands around his neck. But when his arms reached for your hips once more, you pulled away. If Jimin had not yet noticed you had gained weight by looking at you, he would surely know it when he touched you.

"Why won't you let me touch you?" asked Jimin and frowned once again.

"Wh... What are you talking about? We just kissed," you smiled dismissively and went to fold some clothes although they were already folded quite neatly.

It happened so fast; like the blind of an eye. Jimin was right behind you and he put his arms around your waist so quickly, you only managed to turn around but not elude him. Breath caught in the back of your neck as you looked up at him. Jimin slid his hands beneath your hoodie and squeezed your hips.

"Jimin, come on," you whimpered and pulled down your hoodie, trying to get him to let go of you.

"See? What the hell is going on?" asked Jimin as you slipped him away once again.

"Nothing," you rose your voice in frustration but rather than with anger, your words were laced with sadness. Your eyes watered over and over again and you pushed back the tears every time.

"What did I do, Y/N? Just tell me, I'll fix it, baby, I promise," asked Jimin.

"You did nothing wrong, Jimin, it's not your fault," you said but this time you were unable to stop the tears from falling. Your chin quivered as you looked away and more tears stained your cheeks.

"Baby?" said Jimin softly. "What's happening? Are you alright?" He came to you but just as he was going to pull you into his arms, he stopped himself. Instead, his gaze went to your abdomen which you hid with your arms crossed over it subconsciously.

"Are you doing this because you've gained some weight?" asked Jimin. His words made your head spin around and your eyes widen.

"You knew?" you asked shocked. Jimin stared at you puzzled.

"Of course I know, baby. You're my girl... We live together," he said slowly.

"But... Why didn't you say something?" your voice cracked.

"Why would I say anything? You're perfect to me no matter how much you weigh, Y/N," said Jimin as he cupped your cheeks. His thumbs brushed the tears from your face.

"B-But I... I'm ugly," you cried, a heart-breaking sob escaping your lips.

"You're not ugly," warned Jimin and made you look at him. "You - are - not - ugly, Y/N," he repeated. "Don't you ever say that again. Ever. Or we're going to have a fucking problem."

"But..." you whimpered although you did not know what to say.

"But nothing, baby. You're perfect," he assured, his forehead leaned against yours as he leaned in and kissed you. "So fucking perfect," murmured Jimin against your lips before deepening the kiss.

Taehyung

Taehyung was sitting in his armchair, his laptop sat on top of his legs as he dealt with some work matter. You took advantage of this time to start a book that's been on your reading list since forever. But when Taehyung saw you bent over your bag, digging for the book in nothing but shorts and a top, his work quickly became his last priority.

He closed the laptop and put it away as he got up and made his way over to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, making you gasp in surprise, as he pulled you onto the sofa with him, sitting you in his lap. You caught yourself just in time before you could crush him with your weight.

"Tae, what are you doing?" you laughed. "I thought you had work to do," you teased him as you tried to get up, but Taehyung would not let you. His arms were like a chain around your waist, his big brown eyes gazing and shifting between your eyes and lips.

"Nah, when did I say that?" murmured Taehyung, his entire chest vibrating with his husky voice.

"Come on, Tae," you tried to get up again as you grew uncomfortable. You were not the slimmest, on the contrary, you were rather curvy and voluptuous, something which Taehyung never seemed to mind. You, on the other hand, were always self-conscious about your weight. Whenever Taehyung would have you sit on his lap, you found yourself hoovering. Not because you were uncomfortable being in his arms, but because you thought you would hurt him somehow.

"Are you hoovering?" asked Taehyung out of the sudden as if he were reading your thoughts.

"W-What?" you stuttered, taken aback. Taehyung was staring at you, his eyes studying yours without so much as blinking once.

"I said, are you hoovering?" spoke Taehyung more slowly, making goosebumps rise up and down your arms.

"I-I just... I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Tae," you confessed. "What... What if I hurt you?"

Taehyung laughed. You looked at him with hurtful eyes. That is when Taehyung realized you were being serious although to him, he had just heard the most ridiculous thing on earth.

"What are you talking about, princess?" said Taehyung seriously.

"I... I know I weigh more than a lot of other girls... and I see the way people look at us when we're together..." you spoke quietly as tears gathered in your eyes.

"Like what, princess?" asked Taehyung sternly. "Look at me," he demanded as he rose your chin with his hand.

"Like... Like I'm not good enough for you," you confessed, your chin quivering as tears escaped your eyes at last. You looked down and tried to keep yourself from crying but it wasn't as easy as that.

Taehyung was watching you but this time he did not make you look at him. His heart was breaking enough without seeing your big beautiful eyes red with tears.

"I'm the one who is not good enough for you," said Taehyung soberly, making your head snap up.

"W-What? N-No," you cried and reached your hand to his cheek. "P-Please don't say this," you begged.

"Than you must not say it either, princess," said Taehyung, leading your face to his. "We're perfect for each other. You're fucking perfect, do you understand me?" he growled under his breath, his forehead leaning against yours.

"Do you understand me, Y/N?" demanded Taehyung and you could not help but nod.

"Good," he spoke lowly. "Now, sit down, princess."

Jungkook

Jungkook was working in his office when you came by to meet him for lunch. It was a beautiful sunny day after a long time so you wore a short sundress to celebrate it. The sun felt divine against your bare legs before you entered the building and took the elevator up. Jungkook's secretary was more than familiar with you and buzzed you right in.

"He is expecting you, Ms Y/N," she greeted from behind her desk and let you right in. You thanked her before you knocked lightly on the office door before you came in. Jungkook was behind his massive writing desk, leaning back in his chair. A frown rested on his face before he rose his gaze and saw you in front of him. His frustration, his worries all disappeared when his eyes found yours.

"Hey, kitten," said Jungkook smoothly as he stood up and came over to greet you. You met him half way, his arms locking around your waist as he kissed you longingly. He leaned against his desk, you standing between his legs.

"I missed you so much, kitten," murmured Jungkook against your neck where he left a soft kiss as he took in your wonderful perfume. "Come," he asked and took your hand. He sat in his office chair and pulled you gently in his lap. You supressed a gasp, barely catching yourself from putting your entire weight on him.

"What are you doing?" asked Jungkook, clearly noticing you were not comfortable.

"Nothing, it's just... Aren't I a bit heavy?" you asked genuinely, your voice turning quiet. Jungkook stared at you motionlessly.

"You're not laughing, so I take it you're actually being serious, kitten?" asked Jungkook, his eyebrows once again furrowing into a frown. You did not get a chance to respond because Jungkook grasped your waist tightly and forced you to shift your entire weight onto his lap. Breath caught in the back of your throat as your foreheads nearly touched.

"No, you're not too heavy, kitten," said Jungkook under his breath, his chest vibrating beneath your hand. His mouth brushed against yours, his tongue gently parting your lips. One of Jungkook's hands moved down your hip to your thigh where it slid beneath the skirt of your dress. A small gasp escaped your lips.

"Let me show you how absolutely perfect you are, kitten," purred Jungkook against the soft skin of your neck.

[assortedgoods123]

Severus Snape x chatty!reader Soulmate AU

Writers block with stardew valley stuff so im trying something totally different to shake the cobwebs loose

do ppl still need to say they dont fuck with jkr or is it a given at this point? (genuine question)

*meet-cute!!!*

*this reader has titties and gender neutral pronouns*

Walking quickly, your eyes are glued to your phone as you round the corner of a street in London. You are already running late for a meeting but you absolutely refuse to deal with your coworker's bullshit without something caffeinated in your hands.

Just as you are about to look up and find the entrance to the cafe you frequent, you slam into something. You squeak out a nervous gasp when you realize it wasn't a lamp post, but a person.

"Ohmygosh I am so so so sorry!" You say, frantically digging in your bag for your horde of cocktail napkins. Your eyes flit nervously over the stranger, realizing you're both covered in his drink order. Dabbing at his torso with your little napkins, his silence makes you about a thousand times more anxious.

"I really am so so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, it's totally my fault." You stammer out, glancing at up at his face while you pat pat pat his chest with your napkins.

Your poor little heart, already beating like a hummingbird in your chest, leaps into your throat at the sight of the hottest fucking guy you've ever seen in your life. The kind of hottie you would chase down the street to throw yourself at. You've done very embarrassing things to get a chance to know people who are far less good-looking than this man in front of you now. And because you were too preoccupied with your phone, you're almost certain you won't be walking away with his number.

And he's frozen, staring at you with a weird look on his face. Definitely the worst first impression you could have possibly made.

Never one for fits of grace, you frown and say, "People as attractive as you should come with an escape lever." You throw the soggy napkins in the trash nearby and add, "I hate embarrassing myself in front of hot people."

Still not getting a response, you turn and look up at him. "You gonna say anything handsome?"

-

Severus Snape has never been rendered this speechless in his entire life.

The day the courts ruled him not guilty enough for Azkaban was certainly shocking, but even that paled in comparison to what he was experiencing now.

He was leaving his favorite coffee shop when he bumped into a muggle. People are clumsy, it happens. But then, instead of apologizing and running away from the tall scary man, they started talking to him. The sweetest, softest voice Severus had ever heard, telling him he's... hot. Attractive. Handsome.

Every single time anyone has ever shown interest in him in public, Severus has immediately and viciously shut them down. Far better to come across as an asshole upfront than to be humiliated and heartbroken later.

But now, he had this sweet little muggle running their warm hands all over his chest in a matter of seconds. Before he could snarl at them to back off, he looked down and, well.

What was already a very low-cut top was now soaked with tea, becoming slightly translucent. Half of Severus was now laser-focused on the stretch of the damp fabric over your tits, while the other half was screaming at him to get a hold of himself.

You asked him a question, he realizes. Jerking his head around to face you properly, he blurts out, "Huh?"

Oh he's doomed, he thinks.

-

You gasp and grab his arm, "Oh no I'm already so late I need to go right now but listen, here's a bit of money to buy yourself a new drink it's the least I can do I'm so so sorry for running into you and dashing away but I really am late it was nice to meet you bye!"

Hustling away, you sigh and hope you run into him again. Such a shame you couldn't stay and flirt longer. Checking your watch, you growl and break into a jog. Fuck this day, you think.

-

"Fuck this day" Severus mutters, before heading down an alley to dissipate home. Just like him to meet someone who actually thinks he's attractive only for them to be so late they have to literally run.

It was only a fraction of a moment, but Severus knows it'll be the thing keeping him from falling down a pit of despair some nights.

Hating himself as he does it, he sniffs the money you handed him. It smells like your perfume. He sets it aside on his dresser.

Pathetic virgin, he thinks.

Later that night, however, he wakes with a gasp. "Idiot idiot idiot!" He snarls, yanking the covers away from himself. "You were so focused on them you forgot to check your soul mark" He glowers at himself in the mirror before lifting his tongue. There, on the underside, is a swirl unique to him and his soulmate.

His heart skips a beat when he sees it glitter in the dingy bathroom lighting. It's activated. And the only people he spoke to yesterday were you and the exhausted-looking barista.

He thinks of the look on your face when you saw him, how you pouted so cutely when you threw the napkins away. The way your clothes stretched over your body.

I've gone mad, he thinks, as he throws on some clothes and dissipates to an alley in London.

-

I am literally insane, you think.

You've been sitting on a bench outside the coffee shop you almost went in yesterday for about half an hour now. It's too early for anyone else to be up and about yet, it's about 3 in the morning. You woke up last night realizing you didn't check your soul mark after meeting that stupidly hot guy. Sure enough, it was activated.

You twist your fingers anxiously, hoping and hoping that he will show up eventually. You'll be so sad if it's not him.

Suddenly, you hear an odd noise in a nearby alley. Nervously, you run your hands along your pepper spray.

Turning your head to look, you see him. Disheveled and breathing heavy, he locks eyes with you and storms over.

Feeling slightly lightheaded, you rush towards him and lift your tongue up so he can see. Tears of happiness and overwhelm run down your face when he nods and shows you his activated mark.

"Can I...?" You open your arms, asking for a hug.

Hesitating, he steps into your embrace, standing like a stiff board while you sniffle into his shirt and squeeze him tight.

You have a good feeling about this.

(not sure how to end it so ill call it here 🤗)

[coldwayhome]

IS IT CASUAL NOW? piper mclean.

synopsis: in which you're "casual" with piper mclean.

tags: 16+ ONLY!!!! suggestive content ahead. mentions of hookups & drinking, both parties are over 21. no graphic nsfw written. some angst & fighting. no set gender, but relationship is implied to be wlw.

notes: soo self indulgent i hope you enjoy <33

✧˚ · .

10:36. she's late.

you paced around the lawn, waiting for her to pull into your driveway. she said 10:30, but she's always running late. you can't blame her for it, she's busy. that's what she tells you at least.

headlights flared, and piper's white jeep speedily pulled up to you.

she asks if you're ready to go, and you feel yourself smile at the sound of her voice. she has you wrapped around her finger (whether she knows it or not).

driving to her apartment is a quick 10 minutes, but feels like ages with her hand tracing your thigh. getting inside her door is better, you think. at least she looks at you.

laying in bed with piper at night was nice. she's sweet to you, kissing the dark purple bruises and wrapping her arms around you when you need it.

but it always made you question things. question things like: what are we? what do you think of me? do you think we'll grow old together?

and when do you know if it's stopped being casual— when you've moved in? it's not like you could ask her, because she just smiles and changes the subject. everyone thinks you're dating and you don't have the heart to correct them. it's nice to think about.

✧˚ · .

you're staring at your disheveled self in the mirror and think: sometimes, you wish you never met her.

what would life be like without piper? this situation with her has been going on for half a year, and she's still shown you no semblance of an official answer.

it doesn't help that you argued in the car. it was about something insignificant to both of you, but you knew there was something beneath the surface she was actually mad about. you chose to not bring it up, and say nothing but a short farewell when you were dropped back off at your house.

✧˚ · .

she says she hates you.

but it's just that she knows your coffee order by heart. and it's just that the passenger seat is adjusted to your liking. and it's just that you've met her parents.

but it's just that that you can see a future with her, and you know she can too.

so you call her. she doesn't pick up at first, but she calls back a few minutes later.

she's guarded; you don't usually call her.

you ask how she is, she says she's fine. you know she's not.

you just want to talk; doesn’t end well.

what, to check on her? she’s fine, don’t call her again.

✧˚ · .

2:12. a text from piper. two words, if you can even call it that.

you up?

no response from you.

three minutes later:

baby please

m sorry

miss u

she’s drunk, for sure. she only gets drunk when she’s trying to drown her feelings. aka, when she knows she fucked up. gods.

you grab your phone to text her: where are you?

no response.

you don’t really have to ask though. if she’s this drunk, she’s at home. hopping in your car with no time for bluetooth, the radio blares whatever station you left it on last. there were no thoughts circling you head other than her.

pushing the door open, you march into piper’s fancy apartment. there she is, sniffling on the floor with her emptied cup of coke & rum that was most likely refilled a couple times.

seeing your face, she attempts to get up off the carpet where she was sitting, but ends up falling over. rushing to her side, you pull her into an embrace and rest on the floor with her.

“i love you.” she slurs.

“stop.” you say, silencing her but not pushing her off.

✧˚ · .

you say won’t live in delusion. you say you hate her. you say piper mclean does not love you.

you, of all people, know that’s not true.

but you have no interest in talking to her about it.

ITS HARD BEING CASUAL WHEN MY FAVORITE BRA IS IN YOUR DRESSER 📢📢🗣️🗣️‼️‼️

where are the piper stans…

[ttoddii]

hii! i’m lili, a lesbian, and i’m 20! i’m fairly tall (168cm-170cm) and my hair is also dyed half red! i’m really caring and i pay attention to details about my partner! i like to spoil those i love with kind words, gifts, or just cute things they might like. i also love dancing. i love to give reassurance and i need it as well. my music taste is more rnb, k-rnb & k-hiphop. i love leehi, cl, bibi, baekhyun, vedo, rihanna, bruno mars, and sza! i like feeling protected and i love to protect those i love too!! i don’t really like being the shorter one in relationships, but i also don’t really mind if i really like the person! i hate arguments that won’t be resolved or be able to be talked out in the end. fun fact or more embarrassing i guess, about me is i love cheesy romance dramas! thank you so much for this event 🫶

team bebe match up event !!!

"the coffee shop is now ⟶ OPEN !"

a/n – hey! thank you for participating the event, and i'm so sorry for the late response, hope i make up for it with this! enjoy.

i match you up with ...

... bada !!!

how lili and bada relationship would be like ~

— ! bada and you are such a cute couple! people admire how you two would look out for each others. she remember your whole schedule so she could pick you up whenever she's free, and you remember everything she likes so she never have to say a word for you to do just exactly what she want.

— ! bada would definitely protect you from things, people. so you dislike this person? no worries she is now also disliking them too! she will forever be by your side.

— ! assurances from bada "baby i love you"; "you're doing so great!"; "i appreciate you so much"; "thank you for being who you are".

— ! quality time where you two would listen to the same songs, cuddling, having deep talks.

— ! bada is usually stressed out with her work load, and so she would stay up really late at night. you will always look out for her, brewing tea, leaving snacks, talking to her, assure her that she's doing great. how can bada not love you? she is so grateful to have you by her side.

— ! after talking through an argument and work it out, you would be next to her, both of you watching a romantic movie together as bada hug you softly and leaving small kisses on your cheek.

bonus ~ !

you walk back to your shared home, a bag in your hand as you smile softly, the weather has been harsher, cold wind blowing through the back of your neck as you shiver a bit from the sensation, rubbing your hands together to create some friction, warming it up in the process to make you feel better, you quickly pick up the pace and walk through your front door.

bada turn to look up at you when she hear the front door open, her form standing in front of the counter as she smile.

"hey darling", she walk over to you before kissing on your forehead to give you a small greeting "you're shaking a bit, is it cold outside? you should have wear more layers lili."

you nod your head, confirming that it's cold before you hand the bag to bada. your lover is clearly confuse, her head tilted a bit to one side as she take it from you.

"it's a gift", you said softly, waiting for bada to peak into the bag to see a scarf you had bought.

you have always been concern for bada's health, and with how she usually stay up for work, you're worried that her immune system won't withstand the cold. the least you would want is for your girlfriend to catch a cold or get a fever just because you didn't buy her a scarf.

"oh, love" bada smile, taking the gift out to wrap it around her bare neck, half of her face now covered with how big the scarf is "you didn't have to, i have some old ones", bada said, her voice muffled.

your girlfriend is considerate, she always say that it's unnecessary to buy her things, she could always buy them herself, and it's a waste of your money to spend it on her.

but for you, when you could look at how her eyes shine happily.

everything is worth it.

©ttoddii 2024

[redzie02]

Solace m.m

hehe a self indulgent piece because i can,. sorry in advance

Summary(1316 words): You have a depressive episode and Matt comforts you

Warnings: depression, mentions of SH and su*c*de, angst, hurt/comfort

The door to your apartment had been deadbolted and all of the windows were locked. A sliver of light had made its way through the blinds, barely illuminating the darkness that permeated your apartment. It irked you. But you didn’t possess the energy to stand up and shut them.

You shut off your phone earlier when you saw the amount of missed calls and messages from your friends and boyfriend. The notifications on the screen yelled at you and pointed a condemning finger in your face. You hadn’t shown up to work the last three days and lied to your friends- and Matt- when they wanted to know what you were up to, telling them you were busy. You weren’t busy, you just wanted to be alone. You needed to be alone. Why couldn’t they understand that? 

Avoiding Matt was the real challenge. You knew he’d listen to your heartbeat while you spilled your lies in front of him. Thankfully, his days were taken up by court cases and patrolling, making it easier to feed him your fabrications over the phone. You felt like a fraud lying to everyone around you, but you knew they were better off.

You were void of energy, the intrusive thoughts spending every second they could ripping you apart and leaving only bits and pieces for you to someday stitch back together. Being awake was excruciatingly unbearable. Taking warm baths, eating three meals a day, journaling, taking deep breaths-things that were supposed to help- hadn’t seemed to aid your progressively worsening mood.

The last seven hours were spent curled up at the end of your bed without a blanket- you couldn’t be bothered. You kept your eyes closed, trying to catch sleep, but it didn’t want you. The dreams you turned to for solace had abandoned you, leaving you with the bleak and dismal emptiness you’d been trying to escape.

Please, just five minutes. I’m tired. You begged your mind for the thousandth time. Please.

The rapid rapping at the entrance of your apartment interrupted your pleads. You pried your eyes open. Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! “Y/n!” Your boyfriend, Matt, yelled. His knocks reverberated around the walls of your apartment. “Y/n, I know you’re there. Please open the door.” He waited for a response. You stayed in place. Silence was all he got. Matt squeezed his eyes shut and planted his forehead on your front door. “Please, my love…” You wanted to move. You wanted to open the door and pretend everything was okay. But you couldn’t.

All you could do was shut your eyes again and wait for him to leave. You knew he would,-everyone does eventually- but that didn’t stop your heart from shattering when the silence had filled your apartment again. Your throat ached and your eyes burned, but you didn't allow the tears to fall. I deserve it. You thought bitterly. This is what I get for putting him through this. He shouldn’t have to deal with this…with me.

You laid still for five quiescent minutes before you heard it. The sound of his rushed footsteps in your living room, growing louder as they got closer to you. You looked up, embarrassed that he had to walk past the mess that had collected in your apartment. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, half-eaten bowls of food on the coffee table, unwashed clothes on your bedroom floor, the rotting flowers on your nightstand Matt had given you a few weeks ago, just a mere five feet away.

You watched Matt’s black shoes as they approached the end of your bed. They were scuffed, but still had a bit of shine to them. “Y/n?” He kneeled, placing a hand on your cheek, caressing it. “I-I thought you were hurt…Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you- we all have. I- talk to me, love.”

“I…don’t know…” You croaked.

“Did you-” Matt cleared his throat. “Did you hurt yourself?” You shook your head under his palm, taking a deep breath. His right hand took the hand that rested near your face and interlocked his fingers with yours. “Were you planning to?” Your heart jumped at the question. You shakily exhaled and rolled over so you were now facing the ceiling. You didn’t want to answer his question. Was it better to lie or to tell the truth? “Why didn’t you tell me? I can help- Foggy and Karen can help. You don’t have to deal with this alone, you know that right?”

Matt spoke gently, as if he were afraid speaking any louder would break you. Your bottom lip trembled. You held your breath and counted to ten before releasing the air from your lungs. Matt noticed your attempt at avoiding feeling your emotions and kissed the back of your hand. His lips lingered for a moment. “It’s okay to cry, y/n.” He got up and climbed onto the bed with you promptly after kicking off his shoes. 

“I-I don’t want to, Matt. It hurts too much.” Matt’s heart ached at your words. He held you tight in his arms and kissed your forehead, your temple, your nose, any space on your face his lips considered deserted. He’d never seen you like this before. You’d been together for years and for the most part you were usually the one putting him back together- physically and emotionally.

“You don’t have to hold it in anymore. It hurts to see you torture youself.” The first tear slipped. Then another. And another. You sobbed for what felt like a lifetime, gripping onto Matt’s button up, completely soaking it. The pain you’d been keeping in had finally been released.

—----

You sat in between Matt’s legs, your back against his chest. His chin tucked in the space between your shoulder and neck. Matt ran a comforting hand down your arms and up to your shoulders. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You cleared your throat before speaking. “Two weeks, I think? It was tolerable at first…but then it got really bad a few days ago. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this, I actually thought I was better..” He kissed your neck as you played with his fingers. “I forgot how bad I used to get…” Your voice gradually dwindled down to a speck. You felt his breath tickle your skin as he spoke.

“Progress isn't a straight line, my love. There wouldn't be ups without downs. You have to give it time, the same way you gave me time two years ago.” You turned to look at him, knowing he was referring to the Midland Circle building collapsing on him. Those months had been detrimental to your relationship. You dealt with the grief of Matt’s unofficial death before finding out he had been recovering at St. Agnes Church in that time. Then you had to deal with a self-destructive and borderline suicidal boyfriend-not that he wasn’t already. It took almost a year for Matt to fully feel like himself again. “I know you feel like you’re undeserving of it, but you’re not. You deserve more than you know and if I have to pluck every star out of the sky to prove it to you, I will.”

“I- What did I do to deserve you?” You breathed out. You leaned in and tenderly placed your lips on his. He pulled you in closer, the taste of your salty tears being replaced by his sweet warmth. You relished in his love. You slowly pulled away and whispered. “I thank the universe everyday for you, Matthew.”

“I love you.” Another kiss. And maybe another. “Is it okay if I call Karen and Foggy to help clean the apartment up?” You nodded. Another kiss. “Do you want to stay at mine tonight?”

“Can I stay tomorrow too?”

“You can stay as long as you want, my love.”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

New Girl [01]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

(slow burn, endgame, as in you’ll be seeing some short term pairings here and then as well)

MODERN DAY AU

Word count: 5,417

Warning: self-doubt, anxiety, hurt/comfort, cursing

Summary: Life threw you a curve ball when you walked in on  your long term boyfriend making out with someone who definitely wasn’t  you. Since living with him was no longer an option, you’ve ventured out  at the advice of a work friend and found the absolute perfect loft to  reside in. The only issue?

You suddenly have four very odd roommates.

[01]: REBOUND SEX

“Wow, I regret this.” Bucky bobbed his head once and turned to look at Peter who stood in the kitchen with him, “What the fuck did you do to us?”

“How is this my fault??” Peter scoffed.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “Uh, I think your exact words were, ‘Come on, guys. Models will be crawling around the apartment. This will be an absolute dream.’” He pointed to the living room where you were slumped over on the couch watching the same movie you had put on a week and a half ago. “We have used tissues, a crying girl, and I now have the ability to quote Legally Blonde in my sleep.”

“There are less models than I thought there’d be.” Peter mumbled to himself.

Clint stepped out of his bedroom door, it sat by the kitchen, and clapped his hands, “Legally Blonde is a great movie. Excuse you.”

“Yeah, I agreed until about the 132nd hour of it.” Bucky said between clenched teeth. “We need to do something to stop this nonsense, and by we I mean you.” He turned to point at Peter. “You got us into this. You get us out.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Bucky crossed his arms, “I don’t know. Crying girls aren’t my specialty.”

“And they’re mine??” Peter scoffed.

Clint shrugged, “We just assumed you make girls cry all the time. Plus, you’re like super tight with Gamora and Mantis, right? They’re girls.”

“What part of who Gamora is makes you think she cries at all?” Peter replied.

“Yeah, but Mantis seems like the type to tear up every other day at the least.” Bucky countered. Well, he wasn’t wrong. Mantis was empathetic to an extreme. He had just watched her cry at a commercial where a dog kept trying to hide a bone, but people kept digging it up. That didn’t mean he wanted this responsibility placed on him though.

Peter’s mouth fell open with a silent argument, but Bucky just glared at him and Clint’s attention was already focused in on the coffee pot. He grumbled under his breath and turned to stalk over to the living room couch where you were sprawled out sniffling.

“Heeeeey.” Peter dragged the word out as chirpily as he could.

You turned your face away from the screen to look at Peter who had just sat down by your feet. He gave you a sheepish smile and began to pat your ankle with his hand at an awkward pace. You assumed he was trying to bring you comfort, that’s probably what the whisper fight in the kitchen had been about, but it didn’t help.

“Hi.” You greeted before blowing your nose. Peter grimaced, but you just slowly sat up and pointed to the screen. “You wanna watch Legally Blonde with me?”

Peter shook his head, “No. No, I really don’t. I’d love to never see this movie ever again. Ever.“

“Sorry.” You deflated. “I know it’s annoying, but Legally Blonde is my breakup movie.”

“Right. I get that.” He paused. “Well, I really don’t actually because I don’t understand how this is your breakup movie.”

You stuck your lower lip out into a pout, “Elle Woods is a strong independent woman who needs no man.”

“Mhmm, okay.” Peter reached out for the remote and paused the TV, “Here’s the thing though. This isn’t going to make you feel better. What we need to do is go out and find you a rebound.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know if I’m ready for a rebound.”

“You’re so ready for a rebound. Sex with strangers fixes everything.”

“I don’t know…” You replied skeptically. For the past three years, you had only been with one guy. In fact, you had mentally already established that he would be the only guy you’d be with for the rest of your life. He had been your future. The thought of going out and trying to find someone new was… daunting. It also sounded a little impossible. Did you even remember how to flirt with a stranger? You grimaced, “I don’t even think I know how—”

“That’s what we’re for!” Peter gave you a broad grin, “You’re coming out with us tonight and we are going to find you someone new.”

“Really?”

Peter nodded and set his hand on your shoulder, “Absolutely. We are going to get you some good, after breakup sex.” He smirked. “Even if I have to knuckle down and get in there myself—”

“Jar!” Bucky and Clint yelled from the kitchen.

Peter cursed under his breath and moved to put money in the jar designed for him. His words hadn’t even fazed you, your time here had gotten you used to some of the things Peter said. He was a really good guy who sometimes slipped into a douchebag headspace. All the guys here were good guys. Clint was a disaster, you found him sitting on the dining room table at 2 AM once chugging coffee from the actual pot and he still used a flip phone for some odd reason, but he was also sweetheart that would sit on the couch with you at some odd time in the morning to watch your comfort movie. Sam seemed the more responsible one in the loft, when he wasn’t trying to one up or mock Bucky, and he reminded you of a caring older brother. Especially when he made you breakfast last week before the two of you left for work and talked to you about one of his worse breakups. Then there was Bucky. Bucky was… well, he was grumpy for lack of a more accurate word. He was kind of like a 100-year-old trapped inside a 26-year-old’s body. You hadn’t gotten to spend much time with him yet but you knew he meant well. He was protective of the loft group.

You sunk in your seat and rolled the thought of going out around your head. The idea of finding someone new was terrifying, but you couldn’t sit on this couch and cry forever. Plus, the boys would be there to make sure you didn’t cave in on yourself. Peter had said so himself. Fortune favored the bold, right?

You shifted in the booth and tried to readjust the dress you had put on. It felt weird to be in something that wasn’t your pajamas or your work clothes. The bar was crowded, unsurprising on a Friday night, and the atmosphere was comfortable. You hadn’t really found a bar in the city that you liked enough to frequent, but this one was actually kind of nice. It was kind of a mess, not in a super great area of the city, and some would probably use the word ‘sketchy’ or ‘ancient’ or ‘weird, carpeted drinking hole in the wall’ to describe it, but you liked it. This was the bar where Bucky worked and somehow that made sense to you.

“You look great, stop fidgeting.” Peter said from beside you. Sam, on his other side, nodded in agreement and you gave the boys a small smile. It did kind of feel nice to clean up again. “Here comes Buck.”

You glanced over to see your roommate make his way toward the booth with drinks in his hands. Bucky wore jeans with a long sleeve t-shirt and a short sleeve one on top of that. His sleeves were rolled up though and he had a rag thrown over his shoulder casually. “Alright, here.” Bucky set the two beer bottles he was carrying in one hand onto the table in front of Peter and Sam then set a glass of wine in front of you. It was the same as the type you drank at home. “You coach her into finding a winner yet, Quill?”

“I don’t like your tone.” Peter replied then took a swig of his beer. Bucky chuckled once, shook his head, then wandered back to the bar. Peter turned to you, “Alright. Rules of the night. You will speak in short sentences, you will not mention anything about your ex, unless you’re talking about rebound sex, and you will be going home with a date at the very least or my name isn’t Star Lord.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Your name isn’t Star Lord, dumbass.”

“Stage name, Sam. Jesus. How many times do I have to have this conversation with you people?”

“Okay.” You ignored the argument between them that you definitely had heard before and looked around the bar. There was a cute guy leaning against a pillar talking to some of his friends. He wasn’t half bad. “He’s kind of cute.”

Peter focused back on you, “Go get him, tiger.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Go…talk to him?? Like where he can hear me?”

“Him hearing you is an important part yes.”

Your hand tightened around your glass. Sam cleared his throat and motioned to you with his bottle, “You don’t have to do this. As the self-appointed voice of reason, I think I’m supposed to suggest waiting until you’re ready.”

“Waiting ‘til you’re ready is for pussies.” Peter said.

“Jar.” Sam snapped his gaze to him.

“We aren’t even in the loft! There’s no bar jar!”

You didn’t want to wait. You wanted to be over your shitty ex-boyfriend and if this was how you had to do it then so be it. Without waiting, you threw back half the wine in your glass, Peter and Sam both made noises of surprise, then you stood up and pointed at them, “Rebound sex, bitches.”

Peter and Sam both chuckled and you whipped around to go talk to the cute guy. You could do this. You could do this. You were a fucking catch, and any guy would be lucky to have you. Obviously, your ex didn’t think that when he cheated on you. Apparently, you weren’t good enough for him—no! No, bad thoughts. Just flirty thoughts. You could do this damn it.

Could you do this??

Bucky poured another drink, delivered it, then moved to wipe the bar of any spills. When he looked back up, both Sam and Peter were sitting at the bar in front of him. Clint was at work tonight, which meant they had no idea where he was, but that was the norm for them. Peter leaned onto the bar and clasped his hands together.

“Bucky, I need you to get us into the Stark party.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Bucky replied. Peter gave him a hard look and he rolled his eyes in response, “I am not calling my ex-girlfriend to get you into this dumb party—”

“We go every year! You can’t take this from me. The theme is wild wild west. Do you know how cute of an outlaw I make? We have to go.”

Bucky shook his head, “I am not calling Elektra.”

“Why?” Sam raised an eyebrow at him, “You call her drunk all the time.”

“I do not.” Bucky glared at him.

“You literally called her drunk three days ago.” Peter said. “Now please—”

Bucky shook his head again, “No. I’m not gonna do it.”

“I thought you loved me!”

“Well, like always, you were wrong.” Bucky replied dryly. He glanced around the bar, “Where is little miss rebound sex? Did you idiots leave her alone?”

“She’s fine. She’s picking up a dude right now.” Peter pointed behind him. Bucky leaned to the side to look past his giant head and spotted you leaning against the wall talking to some random guy. From the looks of it you were talking very, very fast, maybe not even breathing, and your hands were flying around as you told whatever story you were telling.Your hand caught the edge of his drink and it spilled back on the dude. Bucky grimaced, Sam flinched, and Peter groaned. “Okay. Maybe she’s not picking up a dude right now.”

Bucky pointed in your direction, “That was painful to watch. Go save her.”

“She’s a big girl. She’s just gotta…brush off the cobwebs. Get back in the groove.” Peter argued.

Sam took a big sip of his beer then set it down and stood, “I’ll go get her.”

“Thank you.” Bucky replied and went to serve another customer. When he came back, Peter was giving him a pleading look that bordered on pathetic and pitiful. “Quill, I said no.”

Peter grumbled, “I can’t believe you’d betray me like this.”

“—and I think it was going okay until I spilled his drink.” You said as Sam motioned for you to take what had been his seat. All three men shook their heads at you, and you groaned in defeat before setting your head down at the bar. God, you were so out of practice.

Peter and Sam said you needed a break and they peeled away to talk to some other friends while you moped at the bar. This was the place for it after all. Someone cleared their throat, and when you looked up Bucky was still in front of you. He had placed a new wine glass by your resting head. You took it with a small smile, “Thanks.” He nodded his head once. You took a long sip then spoke, “Well I guess at the end of the day, I just can’t hide my crazy enough to pick up a guy anymore.”

“I really don’t think you’re trying that hard to hide it, doll.” Bucky shook his head.

You chuckled, “I’ve just…never been good at this.” Sad thoughts began to creep in again. Doubts that you’d ever find someone to put up with for another three years. You took another big sip of your drink and motioned to Bucky, “Well, at least I’m not alone.” He raised an eyebrow at you and you continued. “Just a couple of dumped losers, huh?”

“I’m fine.” Bucky argued with a shake of his head. “It’s been six months.”

“Do you know why she dumped you?”

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Didn’t make a difference.” Bucky grabbed a glass to clear with his rag and gave you a tight lipped, awkward smile, “All I knew was that I wanted to set her trash cans on fire afterwards so…”

“You don’t wonder, like, what you could’ve done differently?” You asked, leaning onto the bar, “Racking your brain at night, wondering what’s wrong with you.” Bucky gave you a skeptical look and you forced another chuckle. “You know what happens when you keep all your emotions bottled up inside like you do?”

Bucky hummed, “What?”

“You become old, and bitter, and sad, and a little weird.”

“Who says I’m not already all of that?” Bucky scoffed.

You pointed at him, “You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, Barnes.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, his jaw locked, then he leaned forward with another smile that wasn’t quite a smile, “You’re right. Maybe I should just be more like you. Watching weird movies on repeat and burning through twelve boxes of tissues and talking about it with anyone who stands too close to me.”

“Yes!” You nodded with a smile, “Exactly! Let it out!”

“I’m trying to be mean to you.” Bucky replied. “I’m very obviously not going to do that.”

“Why not??” You asked.

Bucky gave you a deadpanned look, “Because I have a penis.”

You stared back at him for a moment before speaking in a deep, mocking, grumpy tone, “’My name is Bucky Barnes and I have a penis, blah, blah, and I won’t talk about my feelings, blah, blah’,” Bucky’s lips twitched up in the corner to form a smirk, “’And I wanna set trash cans on fire or something, blah.’”

Bucky glanced away, steeling his features, then looked back to you, “Doll, I watched you spill a $30 glass of whiskey on a guy.”

“Jesus, it cost him $30?? Who pays that much for a drink??” You pressed. Bucky tilted his head slightly and you cleared your throat and straightened your back as you spoke with dignity, “I mean, maybe that’s just one of my moves, Barnes.”

Bucky nodded, “Mhmm.”

You gave him a bright grin, but the conversation was interrupted when someone suddenly sat beside you. It was a curly haired guy that you had seen speaking with Peter earlier in the night. One of his friends who was also in a band of some kind or another. He leaned on the bar with a smirk, “Hey.”

“Hi.” You replied nervously, your eyes darted to Bucky who gave you a nod. Encouraged you introduced yourself.

The guy asked if you wanted to find a booth and you rose eagerly and followed his lead. Bucky watched you walk across the bar toward a back booth. He wasn’t crazy about any of Peter’s band friends. They were all assholes, and he was a bit hesitant to let you walk away with one. You suddenly turned and shot him a thumb’s up while mouthing, ‘oh yeah’. When you turned back to the guy, Bucky chuckled to himself with a shake of his head.

To be honest, he was surprised to see how okay you seemed to be. It had been a couple weeks since your boyfriend cheated on you and yet here you were trying to get back on the horse. It had been six months since him and Elektra broke up and he was still drunk dialing her.

Bucky reached under the bar to grab his phone and shot off a brief text asking if Elektra could get them into the Stark party. She was one of the assistants that worked there, and she usually got them in every year.

Ten minutes later, Peter and Sam circled back around, and both were surprised to see you in the corner booth talking to a guy. Peter nodded, “Damn, that’s Jonny. Look at her go. What a pull.”

“Jonny is a tool.” Sam replied.

“Yeah, but rebound sex is rebound sex.” Peter replied. Sam opened his mouth to argue, but Peter whipped around to face Bucky, “One last time. I am begging—”

Bucky interrupted him, “I already texted Elektra. She got us in.” Sam’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing skeptically. Peter on the other hand let out a squeal of excitement and then lunged his top half over the bar to hug him. Bucky hugged back briefly, but as Peter pulled back, he felt a kiss on his shoulder. Bucky motioned to him, “Did you just kiss me on the arm?”

“Yes.” Peter replied unashamedly. “You deserve it.”

A couple more minutes passed before you ran over while Jonny left. All eyes shot to you and you pumped your fist in excitement, “Guess who has a date!” The men cheered for you and you gave Peter and Sam high fives. “Yeah, I just spoke in short sentences, didn’t wave my arms around, and then I told him I want rebound sex—”

Bucky’s eyes widened, “You what??”

“—and then he asked me out!” You jumped in place. “Tomorrow is date night!”

Peter shook his head and yanked your forward into a hug, “I’m so proud of you. Our little girl is all grown up.”

Jonny wasn’t your soulmate by any means, but a date was a date. This was a very good step in the right direction and you were beyond excited to move your thoughts away from your ex.

The loft was silent as five people sat in the living room staring at one another. Well, more accurately four men were staring at one gorgeous, red headed model. Natasha Romanoff sat in a recliner facing the couch while her best friend’s new roommates sat across from her staring—no, gawking.

She crossed her legs, “Do the shoes fit?”

From your in the back she heard a loud thud then you yelled back that you were alright. Natasha turned her attention back to the men in front of her. The one named Clint gave her a small nod, “You a model or something?”

“Yes.” She replied slowly. “Mostly print right now so…”

Peter, sitting between Bucky and Sam, sat forward, “You said it was Natasha?” She didn’t reply. He smirked and Bucky began to roll his eyes before words even left the blond’s mouth. “Tell me, what are your hopes and dreams?” Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. He shifted in his seat, “Are you—Are you warm? It’s a little—”

“Don’t.” Bucky said firmly, but Peter was already shrugging out of his shirt. “I said—”

Peter threw the shirt behind him, “I’m a little warm right now.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, “Please put your shirt back on. Don’t make me laugh at you.”

“Can i get you a drink? Coffee? Water? Some tea?” Peter questioned. Sam and Bucky were both just staring at him now while Clint just continued to gawk at her in stunned silence. Peter nodded, “Some tea bag action.”

Sam nodded, “There it is. Douchebag.”

“Got it.” Bucky reached over to grab the jar and slapped it into Peter’s chest making him yelp in pain while trying to dig out dollar bill from his jeans.

Natasha just watched the interaction and wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into. The red head uncrossed her legs and leaned forward slightly, with a smile she knew was more menacing than charming, “Listen to me. That girl back there is my best friend. The greatest person to walk this planet. An angel.” She laced her fingers together while Bucky took the, now one dollar heavier, jar and placed it back on the shelf. “If you guys let anything happen to her, if you hurt her, I am going to come here and crazy murder you.”

The men all bobbed their heads in agreement. Sam respected the loyalty, Bucky was a little fearful because the woman definitely had eyes that screamed, ‘I’ve killed someone before’, Clint fell a little more in love, and Peter… well, Peter.

“I’m gonna be honest with you.” Their resident idiot started again. “I did not hear a word you said because I can kind of see your party hats right now through that dress.”

Bucky sighed, “There we go.” He leaned over to grab the jar and gave it back to Peter. “Just hold onto that until she leaves, yeah?”

Natasha called out for you and stood to seek you out. She distinctly heard Sam question why Peter was talking this way while she walked out. When she opened the first door on the right in the hallway she came face to face with you lying sprawled out on the floor wearing pajamas and her heels.

You sat up partially to see Natasha standing in the door staring at you quizzically. You gave her a tight smile, “Nat! I fell and I can’t get up. I think I live here now.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Natasha walked over and helped you sit up. “You okay?”

“No.” You groaned and buried your face into your hands, “I can’t go on a date. What if it’s horrible?? What if I have nothing to talk about??”

Natasha reached forward to grip your chin, “Then you go to the bathroom, you call me, and  I show up to rescue you.”

“Maybe I just shouldn’t go.” You mumbled. The excitement from last night had simmered as you sobered up and all day today your nerves just grew and grew and grew.

“Babe, you got hurt.” Natasha replied. “That doesn’t mean you stop trying.”

Natasha was right. She was always right. From the moment you met her in the 7th grade, you knew she was right. The red head been there for you through thick and thin and you had been there for her. It took several days to convince her not to actually murder your ex-boyfriend because you didn’t want to have to hang out with her in jail instead of your favorite coffee place.

She looped her arm through yours and dragged you into your closet to change. Fifteen minutes later, you were all dolled up and feeling confident. Your friend had a very good way of turning your mess into something special. Natasha was gorgeous, and an amazing model, but you always felt like her talents were wasted. She’d make such a good stylist or designer. You turned to her and gave her a tight lip smile, “Thanks, Nat. You’re the best.”

“I know.” She replied with a quick hug. “Now go knock your date dead and if he hurts you—”

“You’ll knock him dead. I know, I know.” You laughed.

Stark parties were known for being loud, crowded, and wild. The billionaire knew how to throw them that was for damn sure. For someone like Peter who thrived on huge crowds and large music, it was paradise. For someone like Bucky who liked day drinking in an uncrowded bar, this was kind of a nightmare. Still, his friends enjoyed it and he could usually have a good time as long as his friends did. Maybe he could be a little more like you and find a rebound himself.

The theme tonight was ‘Wild, Wild West’. Bucky wore his normal clothes, Sam wore his normal clothes, but with a cowboy hat, Clint had a bundle of rope wrapped around his torso which made him look more like a rock climber than a cowboy, and Peter was decked out in full outlaw costume.

“Oh, there she is. Go get us in.” Peter slapped his chest and Bucky shot him a glare.

Like Peter had said, his ex-girlfriend stood outside the doors by the line waiting for them. She looked great tonight. Elektra hadn’t dressed in costume. Instead she had on a tight, red mini dress with her dark hair pulled up into a long ponytail. Bucky swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and wandered over. His friends stayed a few steps back.

“El.” He greeted awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Bucky.” She beamed. “It’s nice to see you. I was happy to get a text from you while you were sober rather than a 3 AM drunk dial.”

Bucky waved off her words, “Drunk dial? No. You must be getting pranked or something. That wasn’t me.”

“I have caller ID, Buck.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Anyways, so the party?”

“Let me go talk to the bouncer and I’ll get you guys in.” She gave him a soft look, “Then maybe me and you can catch up?”

The logical side of him said that was a bad idea, but every single other side was thrilled. He nodded and watched her walk over to the bouncer. As he turned around to let the others know what was going on, some of Peter’s asshole buddies wandered up. The two loud men greeted them, and Bucky suddenly recognized one of them.

“You’re Jonny.”

“That’s me! What up, my man—”

Bucky demanded to know where you were. The others stiffened while all eyes shot to the curly haired man. “Did your date already end or did you bring her?”

Jonny shook his head, cowboy hat nearly falling off, “Who?”

Sam snapped your name at the man, then added, “The girl from last night.”

“Ohhh, yeah.” He laughed, “Look, I was just looking for a hook up. She was texting me all day long. Constantly. I didn’t want nothing to do with that.”

Clint crossed his arms, “And you told her this?”

“No. Why would I?”

“So, she’s just at the restaurant alone waiting for you?!” Sam cried out.

Jonny shrugged and Bucky had to physically resist the urge to punch the man. God, this was awful. Your had been so excited for the date. Your friend had gotten you all dressed up and now you were alone somewhere being stood up. Bucky shook his head, “Come on, guys. We gotta go.”

“But—But the party?” Peter motioned behind him.

“Pete.” Clint said. The outlaw of a man nodded once in agreement. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, spotting Elektra still talking to the bouncer, then sighed. You needed them and they didn’t leave a roommate behind.

You sat at the table, eating your third basket of bread, and wondering if your water glass was deep enough to drown yourself in. This was probably one of the more pathetic moments of your life. Stood up by a guy who played tambourine in whatever band he was in. Jonny hadn’t been your type, but a rebound was just about getting back on the bike, right? Well, you had jumped onto the bike only to immediately ride out into traffic and get hit by a semi.

The waitress began to make her way back to you and you couldn’t help but sink in your seat a little. Maybe she wouldn’t see you. The woman stopped in front of you and picked up the empty bread basket with a frown, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to ask you to give up the table now.”

“Can I get…one more bread basket?” You mumbled.

“No.”

You nodded in understanding and went to grab your purse. Before you could stand from your chair though, you heard yelling at the front and suddenly four familiar faces ran into the upscale restaurant. Sam was in a cowboy hat, Clint was carrying rope around his chest, and Peter was literally dressed like a space cowboy of some kind. Bucky looked like Bucky though. The four of them ran over to your table yelling that they were here and you laughed.

“We’re here. Sorry we’re late.” Bucky said to the waitress.

“You’re her date? All of you?”

Sam nodded, “Yes. We are her boyfriends.”

“One isn’t enough for her.” Clint shrugged. “We’re sister wives, but the male version.”

“Brother husbands?” Peter supplied.

You chuckled, but you could feel your eyes watering at the sight of them. Bucky leaned his hands on the chair in front of you and shook his head, “Doll, that guy was an asshole.” The other guys nodded and chimed in agreement. “He’s missing out.”

“You guys skipped your party to come and see me?”

“Course.” Bucky answered. “We care about you. We like you.”

Sam nodded and sat down at the chair to your left, “You’re family. Whether you like it or not.”

“I do like it.” You said, holding back tears. “I like it a lot.”

Peter dropped down into the chair on your right, “Besides, it’s Stark. He’ll always throw another party. It’s kind of what the guy is known for.”

Clint pulled a chair away from a table beside you, ignoring the glares from the couple sitting there, and brought it to the table to sit while Bucky took the chair he had his hands on. The guys picked up menus and began to look them over and you felt your chest swell in happiness. You didn’t think it was possible to be so happy considering how sad you had been just moments before. You liked these guys, and knowing they liked you enough to take care of you like this just made you so soft.

Bucky caught your eye, and he gave you a smile. Not a tense one, not an awkward one or a half grimace like you had seen, he gave you a real smile that made his entire face brighten. The kind that up until now you only saw the guys pull out of him. It made you feel like you belonged, “We got your back, doll.”

“Hey, guys.” Clint said slowly and looked up from his menu, “Yeah, I can only afford the tap water here.”

Sam flipped his menu over and his eyes widened, “Jesus, that’s excessive for a salad.”

You nodded, “It’s stupid expensive. That’s why I’ve only eaten the bread.”

“Alright,” Bucky tossed the menu onto the table, “Pizza at the loft?”

There was a chorus of agreements and everyone rose from the table. You stood and when Sam held one arm out to you, you didn’t hesitate to fold into his side for a hug. The boys walked you out of the restaurant while Clint told some story about his odd job yesterday and while the others laughed at his expense all you could do was bask in the warmth they radiated. You always thought the best part of the loft was the open floor plan, but as it turns out, the best part was the adopted family you accidentally fell into.

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober Day 12 - Amphibian

Silliness alert - He Deserved Better AU, Severus is around five

A response to @waningstarlight's prompt

Diagon Alley was particularly busy; perhaps they should have elected to go on another day, but the present weather was lovely, especially in contrast to tomorrow's when heavy showers were forecasted all over England. So be it - they were ready to brave the crowd for the bookshop and toy store.

Severus found three books he was looking forward to reading and a lovely set of play cards, for rainy days. There were, of course, many such days in the Highlands, and the few times they had taken him out to play, he had come down with a cold. Minerva intended on keeping him indoors as much as possible during the worst days of late autumn, but the boy did like the rain.

Now was time for the mandatory ice cream, a tradition instituted since Severus' first visit to Diagon Alley, over a year ago. He asked for vanilla and coffee, Minerva picked a scoop of pistachio, and Albus, of course, requested a huge cone with chocolate, lemon and raspberry scoops decorated by a garish amount of sprinkles and chocolate sauce. The seller even added a cherry on top of it all, evidently quite pleased with the ridiculous amount of money Minerva ended up paying him. 

The deputy headmistress attempted to make her way back to Severus and Albus without bumping into anyone. They were waiting for her on the other side of the street, in the shade. It was a complex balancing act deserving of the utmost praise, and she was about to comment on it when she caught sight of Severus - in the middle of the street.

They had put the boy in a child harness, for obvious reasons. While they were frowned upon on the continent, English and Scottish people took a more practical approach to things when it came to child safety. But half that leash was now in the middle of the road, and a mule carrying stacks of books was approaching dangerously. The boy was looking in the other direction - Albus was absorbed in the contemplation of a shop display - no one was paying attention -

"ALBUS!" Minerva screamed, stopping most people around her in their tracks. 

Her cry was visceral: she could not breathe properly, and the "s" died in her throat.

The headmaster turned around. His eyes landed on Severus and he immediately waved his wand; the collision was narrowly avoided. People let the furious transfiguration teacher come through, cowering on both sides of the street.

It did not matter how many ice cream cones she was holding: she looked absolutely terrifying. 

"My dear", Albus began contritely, "I have cast all sorts of spells on him - he's absolutely fine - he would have bounced into the air -"

"It does not matter if you know he is safe, Albus Dumbledore", she interrupted him. "What matters is what we teach him. How incredibly stupid can you be? You think it will do him any good, to think he can just wander around because you have cast the right spells?"

The crowds around them, though civilly feigning to look away, glanced at Minerva furtively with a mixture of awe and astonishment. Had the dignified deputy headmistress of Hogwarts just called the most gifted wizard of the century stupid?

Albus lowered his eyes.

"You are right, of course, Minerva. I apologize. This is not about me."

"Indeed", she replied acerbically, her temple vein pulsating.

She turned to Severus, who had been watching them fearfully. Her face relaxed slightly.

"You do not ever go on the street by yourself, is that understood, Severus?" she told him gently, though firmly. 

The boy nodded eagerly. 

"I'm sorry", he replied quietly.

For a second, she thought he was going to cry. She knelt in front of him, determined for their day to not be ruined by Albus' carelessness. 

How the man could be both so brainless and brilliant, she could still not understand...

"It's alright, Severus", she told him softly. "We all make mistakes and we learn from them, mmh? Now you know. Here, take your ice cream."

When she got up, the headmaster was watching them apologetically. She handed him his ice cream, still tight-lipped. 

"May I know what was so interesting to look at?" she told him rather drily, in an undetermined attempt to resume the conversation without letting go of the issue.

Taking the hint, Albus nodded at the shop display in front of them which presented various items of clothing. He was pointing at a specific robe, gold and deep green, with quite refined ornaments and motifs: the triangular sleeves were long and trimmed with delicate emerald lace. Upon closer inspection, though, it had something peculiar...

...The whole thing was covered in slightly lighter motifs of jumping frogs, going from one lily pad to the other. While in the dark they were not very striking, it was all one could see in the sunlight.

"It looks dashing, don't you think, my dear? There's a formal dinner at the ministry next week..."

Minerva closed her eyes, sighed rather loudly, and pulled out a handkerchief from her left pocket. She knelt again and proceeded to clean Severus' face. When she was done, she put it away and simply replied:

"Given your questionable taste in clothing and appalling wardrobe, Albus, this would be absolutely fine at the school. But at a banquet with foreign ministers... think about it..."

"But precisely! I understand green is more suited to the occasion than purple..."

"Didn't you say the French prime minister would be there?"

"I did."

"And you think he is an idiot."

"There are often... gaps in his understanding."

"Then no, Albus, you cannot wear a frog-teamed robe to a meeting with a French official you clearly despise."

The old man looked crushed. 

"And we are here solely to buy Severus a proper raincoat, if I recall. Let's go in."

-

"You seem sceptical, my dear", the headmaster told Minerva as they exited the shop.

He was meticulously folding a green garment, which he then placed in a large paper bag.

"I assure you, Severus is not going to meet any French official, if that is what is troubling you", he added, smiling smugly. 

She rolled her eyes.

-

On their next rainy outing though, she had to confess Severus looked absolutely adorable in that frog-shaped raincoat of his. 

~~~

Severus' coat looks like the combination of these by the way:

[compassionatereminders]

i guess you could call this a vent or whatever but im going to tell you about something that has been making me crazy lately

so when i was like 3 i took a serious blunt force blow to the forehead. our house had hardwood floors and my brother had left a sock on the floor and i slipped on it and hit my head on the rounded corner of our oak coffee table. it left an inch long open wound and i was completely dazed and unresponsive, but conscious.

here is where i start getting frustrated. my mom didnt call 911 or take me to the ER, she took me to our family pediatrician. already really questionable imo but it gets worse. so ive got this gaping hole in my forehead and im unresponsive right? so what do they do? sew my forehead shut right there in the pediatricians office while i watched. didnt give me any anaesthetic or anything because i was, again, completely unresponsive.

then my mom was like "okay you arent bleeding anymore, can i leave now so i can go see the play i wanted to see?" but at this point im screaming and crying because im a toddler with fucking brain damage and a stitched wound that still hurts.

so she just took me home and that was that. and then for months afterwords she couldnt get me to wake up in the morning so she stuffed my limp body into my school clothes herself and took me to preschool half asleep. and then nobody ever spoke about it again except to make jokes.

its been two decades and i am only now realizing that ive had serious brain damage the whole time. my mom and brother have been shaming and belittling me for years for displaying symptoms of the brain damage that they gave me. my mom calls me a fucking spaz and my brother is pissed because he thinks i get "special treatment" instead of realizing that i need more help because he gave me brain damage. its like the final puzzle piece that explains why my life is such a mess.

and im just so overwhelmed by the fact that my mom and brother are directly responsible for the immense suffering ive endured over the past 20 years. all my health problems, the mental illness, the inability to avoid being abused, its all because of the brain damage. and they keep making fun of me for it. im not even mad im just. horrified. the sheer negligence of it all makes me sick. how many people like me are out there suffering from old brain injuries they didnt realize they had?

its like my brain cant even comprehend how fucked up the whole situation is. which is why im here telling it to you in the hopes that you will agree that its very bad 🙃

This is abuse and neglect on a level that no one and nothing could ever justify and I am so, so sorry that this happened to you. You deserved SO much better! ❤️

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

A Blue Bird and a Black Cat pt1

Selina decides that Marinette would be better as the Cat than Adrien. Five years, later Dick is very confused about this Lady Noire ao3

Five months ago Selina had expected to waltz into the Louvre, liberate a particular Ming dynasty Jade Cat, and waltz out. She had not expected to be stopped by two teenaged heroes, who clearly had no adult supervision. She had definitely not expected them to be quite so skilled at fighting, despite their obvious lack of training. And she had most certainly not expected them to leave their fight in favor of chasing a strange blue child on a flying carpet! She had not gotten the Jade Cat, or even entered the Louvre that night. However, the next night she had gotten her answers. 

The small girl in the ladybug suit explained everything as simply as she could to the rouge, and what Selina heard was both intriguing and horrifying. The idea that a mad man was vilifying children in order to serve his purposes, and enslaving people made her hiss and spit. What was intriguing was the young heroes. Especially the cat boy. Not to mention the girl's response to her reaction. She seemed amused and almost...gratified by such a blatant display of disgust. When Selina asked why the Justice League had not gotten involved the girl just sighed and Selina watched as a huge weight settled on her shoulders. 

"We tried calling them, but they didn't believe us. I don't know if it was because we weren't talking to the right people, or the magic interfering. But it's almost impossible to prove our claims, because the government is actively suppressing the information so that foreign relations aren't strained, and the magic involved means that there is no lasting damage, or casualties, and the identities of the users are protected through the magic. So proving anything we say in order to get the help we need is next to impossible. Besides do you really want to see Superman, or Batman, or worse, Wonder Woman akumatized? No thank you?"

Cat Woman hummed thinking softly. She snapped her fingers when an idea came. "I know lets make a deal!"    

"I'm sorry?" Ladybug asked.

"A deal! I make them with Batman all the time!" A half truth but the young hero didn't need to know that. "I get you Hawkbitch, and you let me take the Jade Cat!"

Ladybug eyed her suspiciously before saying, "You honestly want me to believe that you can find Hawkmoth? and then you really think I'm just going to let you walk away with the Jade Cat? A priceless artifact? Are you crazy?"

"I'm from Gotham," Cat Woman said dismissively, "But that's not the point. The point is, that I can deliver! I get you the name of your villain. You utterly destroy him. And then I walk way with the most precious kitty in France! What do say?"

"I have been looking for Hawkmoth for almost five years, five years, and you think you can just find him like that?" she snapped to illustrate her point. But Selina just smirked. 

"If you think it's impossible, then what do you have to loose? I'll even sweeten the deal, I'll leave Paris, no...I'll leave France, and I won't come back until I have a full file detailing exactly who this Hawkbitch is, including admissible proof of his identity. What do you say?" 

If this was Superman, he would say no. If this was Batman, he'd think about it and then also say no. Wonder Woman was to experienced to get this deep in the hole. And the rest of the hero community that well but she expected that they would all refuse such an offer. She expected the girl to do the same, but once again her expectations were over thrown when Ladybug said, "Ok. You have a deal. Get me Hawkmoth, and you can attempt to steal the cat. But you have to leave first thing in the morning, and you cannot, I repeat, cannot come back until you know who Hawkmoth is."

Now five months later, Selina smiled into her coffee. All she had to do was casually mention to Bruce that there were unsupervised heroes in Paris, and he was on the case like a cat on a mouse, or a bat on a bug. Whichever you prefer. Still she did not want to reveal herself to the heroes just yet. Because she...was curious.

While waiting for Bruce to crack the case, Selina had decided to do some light browsing on exactly who these heroes were. Their identities were apparently protected by magic, which Selina could easily believe. She had seen Ladybug's face that day as clear as the moon in the sky. But like the moon, her memories of the girl's features were obscured behind clouds. But after using a French IP address and watching something called The LabyBlog and The BugCast, Selina had become determined to discover the identities of the young heroes for two very important reasons. One was to rip that ring off of the mangy, feral, tomcat's finger for daring to disgrace the noble and divine species of felines with his carless and flippant ways. And two was to invite Ladybug to have a little Gotham fun. The girl was clearly too stressed for words, but it wasn't hard to see why. With a partner like that and the responsibility of resurrecting the dead, Selina would have cracked years ago. But this girl hung on, and for that the girl disserved a break, without having to worry about akumas, or villains, or anything but the joy that came from bashing in a deadbeat's jewels. 

But after a week of searching and stalking, she had gotten know where. All she could confirm, was that Ladybug, and probably Chat Noire lived somewhere in the vicinity of this lovely patisserie. Not a lot to go on, she knew, but it was better than nothing. And besides, the coffee was wonderful. The pastries were divine. And there the sun was shining. So she really couldn't complain. The sun never shone in Gotham. 

As she took another sip of coffee and looked over at the park where children were playing, she smiled thinking about the current Robin. He was probably too old and too scarred to enjoy the park as a kid. But perhaps one day, he could enjoy the park with a kid. Maybe a little brother, or a little sister. She smiled mischievously, but her thoughts were interrupted by a small cough.

"Oh I'm sorry, excuse me, I didn't mean to disturb you. You were probably really deep in thought, and hate being interrupted, and think I'm annoying, I'm so sorry! This is so rude of me, and you probably hate me, and don't want to talk to me. But I needed to ask you something, but you don't have to answer, in fact it's probably best if---"

"It's alright child," Selina said with a low chuckle and a soft smile. "I understand, now what is your question?"

"Oh, ok," the young girl said softly, "Um, if you're finished with your plate, then I can take it inside for you?" 

Selina arched a brow and examined the girl. She was small, and extremely nervous, which made Selina think that she was probably 12 or 13. However, any careful examination of her features revealed that the girl in actuality was probably older. Perhaps 16 or 17. But it was difficult to tell. First of all her black hair that shone blue in the light was tied up in pig tails (a decidedly younger preference). Secondly, her big blue bell eyes were shining with all of the nervous energy her voice conveyed (the poor girl probably had anxiety and had never been taught how to manage it). Thirdly, her clothes, which were objectionably fashionable and stylish, seemed to convey a softness and timidity that only hung around small children. Selina found her pretty, in an innocent, cute, fairy kind of way. Which combined with the over abundance in nervous energy, convinced Selina that this child should never enter Gotham, unless she quickly received a shot of pure confidence in the next hour or so.

So Selina smiled her warmest smile and said, "Of course you may my dear. Please. Now tell me are you just being kind, or do you work here?" 

"Oh?" the girl said a little confidence edging its way into her voice, "My parents own this patisserie! And I like to help out where I can. I hope you enjoyed everything!"

"Oh I did," Selina said. "I truly believe this is the best cup of coffee, that I have ever had. You must compliment your parents for me..."

"Oh, Marinette!"

"Selina."

Marinette's smile was now so bright and genuine, that it was contagious. And Selina found herself watching the girl out of the corner of her eye for the next half an hour she was there. 

Benevolent and sanguine feelings rolled through Selina, as she watched Marinette clumsily and skillfully clean the outside tables. The girl was entertaining, as she seemed to be a mass of contradictions. One minute she was graceful. The next she was flailing. One minute she was nervous and shy. The next she was talking animatedly with someone she knew. One minute she was day dreaming. The next she was stressing over the smallest details of the tables. Selina was amusedly endeared to the young lady. But she didn't have time to be distracted. She needed to find Ladybug, and give her the Hawkbitch file. However, just as she was finishing her drink something happened that made Selina bristle and hiss.

Marinette was just wiping down a table, when something caught her attention and made her tense. This caught Selina's attention, because it was a different kind of rigidity than her pervious bouts of nervousness. When the girl had addressed Salina she had been fidgety, but upright and clear. Now, Marinette was hunching over, curling in on herself. Her hands, which had flitted about with the need to move, now stilled, and...Selina blinked and almost turned to directly stare at the child. Marinette's hands were shaking and her eyes...oh her big, beautiful, clear, bluebell eyes, where fading as if something was slowly draining away the life in them Selina felt her own shoulders tense as she watched. She knew those actions. She had seen those signs. She recognized those defenses. She did not have to consult Harley in order to recognize a victim of abuse.

Selina settled back as casually as she could and began to watch the pedestrians. One of these people was this bright young woman's abuser, and Selina was determined to discover them. None of them stuck out, everyone kept walking past, or into the bakery. Then a group of teenage girls caught her eye. Unremarkable in and of themselves, just a group of five or six teenagers, probably coming from a shopping spree. They were laughing and talking without a care in the world, but there was something about them that made Selina's hair stand up on end. So she examined them closely. Her eye fell on the girl who was front and center of the group. Her hair looked as if she was trying to imitate sausage links, and her style was decidedly gaudy. The girl walked with an air of entitlement, and obnoxiousness that even a cat would find insulting. Especially since she was not carrying any of the shopping bags and was walking ahead of the group, thus giving the impression that the girls around her, were not her "friends" but her ladies-in-waiting. And though she never looked down at the people around her, she watched them through narrow calculating eyes that reminded Selina of Lady Shiva. Selina did not like that woman.

Selina kept one eye on Marinette, and one eye on the approaching group, sat back, and watched. And what she saw made her quietly hiss into her now empty mug. The lead girl (Selina heard her called Lila) took one look at Marinette and smiled predatorily. She then redirected everyone immediately from their previous goals, to the bakery and sat down at a table Marinette had yet to clean. She then proceeded to cry and sob, blaming Marinette for forcing her to sit at an unclean table, while the rest of the girls began to yell and berate the poor girl for the injustice. Marinette said nothing as she quietly cleaned the table, letting the screams and sobs wash over her without even making a noise. As Marinette attempt to walk away with the dishes, Lila very blatantly tripped her. This time Marinette did not use her graceful reflexes to contradict the clumsiness but silently fell to the ground shattering all the plates. The other girls at the table then began to scream at Marinette for attempting to hurt Lila by dropping plates on her head. 

Selina could not hear this Lila's voice, from where she was sitting, but the affects of her gross, and obvious manipulation and abuse made Selina want to scream and claw her eyes out as she watched. The sweet charming girl silently and cautiously pick up every shard of ceramic as the other girls screamed and surrounded her. The commotion drew out the two adults that Selina had seen behind the counter. Knowing these to be Marinette's parents, Selina decided not to kill a minor, trusting them to defend their daughter. The yelling stopped for about five seconds when they appeared. Long enough for Lila to say something through her hands, and for the bakery owners to turn on their daughter and begin to reprimand her and not the other girls. Selina had to bite her tongue against a scream as she watched the previously bright and kind girl that was Marinette silently stand up and slink back into the bakery without ever making a sound. When she passed, Selina felt stabbed, because her beautiful blue eyes were rendered dull and grey in the wake of her abuse. 

Once Marinette was gone, Selina watched as her parents filled the group's table with the best free pastries with growing hatred and disgust. Selina shook her self she could not get akumatized. She could not risk all of her plans falling apart, because of one incident. However, she smirked deviously. There were other ways to punish bullies and abusers. But as she walked past the table, something happened that completely other threw all of her expectations once again. This was becoming a pattern in Paris. 

Marinette blinked at the woman in her room. "What the hell?!" she exclaimed. Cat Woman smiled mischievously and removed her cowl throwing Marinette into even more open mouthed confusion. Mme. Selina is Cat Woman! her mind screamed. Marinette stared at the new patisserie regular in shock and horror, as the older woman chuckled at her reaction.

"Sorry to keep you waiting Ladybug, but I had to be sure of you identity before I could give you this." She held up a thick manila folder with the word Hawkmoth written on the side, and the word Hawkbitch scribbled on the front.

Marinette held up her hands in protest. She had to breath. Her mind was swirling, and she could barely process all of this new information. Mme. Selina was her new favorite customer. She came in almost everyday and always had a kind word for her. Cat Woman was a thief who stole priceless artifacts. She had known Selina for about three weeks now. And Cat Woman was a world renowned thief. A thief who knew her identity...Marinette took a deep breath before she could spiral and closed her eyes. This was not helping. 

Ladybug, she thought desperately, I need to be Ladybug. She took a deep breath and settled into the mindset of the hero of Paris. Ladybug could save the day. Ladybug would save the day. Ladybug can deal with Cat Woman with ease. Ladybug would make sure that nothing went wrong. She felt her energies settle into calm, heavy, order as confidence and surety took over her bones. When she opened her eyes, Cat Woman was watching her with undisguised curiosity and fondness. Ladybug could not understand it. She cleared her throat.

"So how did you discover my identity?" 

"Well it wasn't easy," Cat Woman said dismissively. "But lets just say, you were perhaps a little too tired after that last akuma. Neither you nor that filthy alley cat noticed that I was following you. But then again he never notices when I follow him." She spoke of Chat Noir with disgust, as if he were the epitome of everything wrong with the world. Ladybug let the information settle in the back of her mind before she continued.

"So you're here about our deal. Hawkmoth's identity in exchange for a free attempt at the Louvre." It was a statement, but Ladybug was curious to see how Cat Woman would respond to it. 

"Yes," Cat Woman said with a smile, "But also no."

"No?" Ladybug said with unaffected surprise. "Don't you want your Jade Cat?"

"Hmm," Cat Woman mused as she eyed Marinette's room. "I think I remember saying that I want the most precious kitten in all of France. And at this point I don't think it's the Jade Cat."

Ladybug sighed and crossed her arms. "Do I want to know?"

Cat Woman smiled sardonically. "Lady Noire."

Ladybug blinked. That was not the answer she was expecting and it almost rocked her out of her persona. She recovered by giving Selina a very pointed look and said slowly, "Lady Noire? The persona I take when I wear the cat miraculous?"

"Mmhm," Cat Woman hummed with a smile.

"I don't understand."

"Well it's quiet simple really. I don't like that tomcat running around with the black cat miraculous. As the original, feline identity I take anyone who attempts a feline persona very seriously. And I don't like the reputation he is giving us nighttime predators."

"You do know that the black cat hero is older than most civilizations."

"All the more reason to take his miraculous from him. He doesn't deserve it, not with the way he treats you. Come now kitten, you can't tell me that you haven't ever questioned his suitability for the role. He's skilled, yes. And he's passionate. But he's hardly capable. How often does he leave alone in a fight? How often does he get distracted or impede your abilities? How often has he assaulted you?"

"Woah, Chat Noire has not assaulted me," Ladybug declared. 

"Oh so you like it when he kisses you're hand, and calls you pet names in professional settings? Or how about when he decided he was in love with your civilian identity? Did you like him coming up to your balcony every other night? Based on how often the CCTV cameras caught him here, I assume he had an open invitation? You did invite him to sit on your balcony for hours on end, correct?"

Ladybug stiffened. She couldn't deny it. She couldn't deny any of it. She couldn't deny her wish that Chat took things more seriously, or was more reliable. It was becoming more of a question of if he would even show up! And when he did appear, she often found her self watching him as much as their enemy. When he decided that he was in love with Ladybug, she always had to make sure that there was at least five feet between them so that he wouldn't try to pull her against him, "Because that blast was going to hit you m'lady!" he would always say even as his hands began to wonder. And when he decided he was in love with Marinette, she could barely go out on her balcony to water her plants without him trying to corner her, or get into her space. She used to love lying back in her bed, and watching the sky out of her sky light. Or going out on her balcony at night to let the cool air wash all of her troubles away. But now there was paper over the glass, and she had to lock the window the moment the sun went down in case Chat Noir decided to shift his attentions again.

She looked away but Cat Woman moved so that she was in her line of sight. Ladybug looked at her and saw something she had not seen directed at her in a long time. Not since Luka and Juleka left with their father for his world tour, and Kagami had been sent to a fencing camp by her mother. It was sympathy, understanding, and a righteous fury on her behalf. Ladybug shifted, she could feel her mask slipping, and she was almost tempted to call on her suit in order to cement it in place, but Cat Woman wasn't done. 

"You know," she said softly, "I had plans to steal you away as the new cat holder, before I ever realized you were Ladybug." Marinette started and stared, but said nothing. She did not trust herself. Selina continued, "That first day we met. I saw what those girls did to you. What your parents did to you, and I'll admit I was almost akumatized. But I wasn't because the moment I went over to steal that Lie-la's wallet, rip her knock-off designer bag, and spill coffee in her lap, something happened. The moment I heard her voice I started to believe her. Despite everything I felt and witnessed, I started to believe that she was right, and you deserved what they did to you." Ladybug stiffened, but said nothing, she was too confused and too conflicted. So Selina continued almost conspiratorily. "And that's when I realized. That Lie-la is a meta!" 

Marinette gasped. Her mask had slipped. The Ladybug persona was on the floor. There was no recovering it. The realization and the understanding hit her like a truck as the reality fit everything into place. For years she had wondered how Lila had done it. How had she turned everyone who had always loved and supported her through thick and thin against her as if she was a rat in the pantry. But it made sense. Lila was a meta! She was controlling them. Marinette never stood a chance. She looked up and saw the gleaming satisfaction in Selina's eyes as hope and vindication filled Marinette's. And Selina continued,

"It's the only explanation. Because I know what I say. I know what they did to you. And over the past few weeks I have seen who you are as well. You are kind, and generous, and beautiful. So how could anything she said be true, even if I believed her when I heard her voice. I knew right then and there, that very first day what was happening. But Marinette...I also knew right then and there that the only way for you to be free of them, of her, would be to escape. The only way you're going to be able to get out of this toxic dumpster fire of a life is to run away from it as fast and as far as you can. Now you're 18. You'll be graduating soon. And with this," she tapped the almost forgotten file, "You'll be able to put the mask aside. You can choose how you want to escape. All I ask is that you let me help you do it...It is your decision Marinette. I'll make sure that it is only your decision. If you let me."

Marinette breathed deeply, her scattered and shattered mind desperately trying to put all of the pieces together. She tried to summon Ladybug. She tried to shut down. She tried everything, but that did not stop the buzzing in her head so she just stared, at the woman in front of her. The woman who was offering the only thing her heart could ever want. As she stood and stared the kwamis began to slink out of their hiding spots, but only Tikki came up to comfort her and pull her out of her deepening spiral. "You're unbalanced, Marinette," the kwami whispered. "And I'm sorry, I don't know how to help you. I can only offer you creation and order, and I'm afraid you might have a little too much of that right now. Please, please, please, let this woman help you! We, all of us, will support you no matter what." 

And with that, Marinette fell to her knees and began to cry. And she didn't stop not even when the small hands of her kwami were joined by the warm, tight embrace of a human. So she knelt and cried, as sixteen deities protected her, and a warm, kind woman embraced her. 

Next

(let me know if you want to be tagged for this fic.)

[1d1195]

Made to Be Extra II

This was easy to write because I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I know we're all waiting on a second part of a lot of other things (and a fourth part of Normal People) but that will come I promise.

This takes place two and half years after January.

You can read the rest of this series here: Made to Be

Warnings: None...a little mean/angsty at times.

She ignored him. Didn’t even glance at him in acknowledgment.

Sighing, he headed to bed. With a hand on the cold side of the mattress he actually Googled signs of falling out of love. But after reading too many that sounded like her, he locked his phone and closed his eyes.

August/September

Harry walked into the apartment that he shared with the woman of his dreams of nearly three and a half years. They had been trying to find a house for over a year, but the market continued to be outlandish.

And lately, it’s been put on hold due to her miserable attitude.

Harry hated to even think that way. Every thought he had about her was always beyond pure and lovely—he adored her. Always and foremost.

But Harry had never seen this side of her before, she was angry. All the time—for over a month. At first, he thought she was just having a bad day—it was exceedingly hot out in the middle of the summer, and she was agitated by the traffic she hit coming back from tutoring. However, the following days didn’t make her better. He tried walking on eggshells around her, trying to make the apartment clean and everything she wanted while she was out tutoring in the afternoons. But he never seemed to clean the right way. Or he moved something and then suffered the bitterness of her irritation of why he moved stuff. The dinner he made didn’t seem to be the food she wanted.

So, Harry looked at their wedding photos to keep him sane.

It was a rough patch; couples went through them every day, Harry always thought they’d be an exception, but here they were. She was plenty vocal about what was wrong, so he was certain it was nothing like her past relationship.

The album was on their coffee table (normally it was under the table on the little shelf, and she was happy to remind Harry that was where it belonged). But when she was out tutoring, he looked at how happy she was a little over a year ago, how gorgeous she looked—as she always looked; even angry she was still the most beautiful person he knew. The photos simply reminded him of another time she looked angelic...and happy. He thought about the dress hanging in their closet and how the flowers in her hair made her look like mother nature. He smiled like an idiot every time he opened the album looking at the pretty lady.

It was easily the second-best day of his life.

The first being the day he met her of course.

He heard the door open. Swiftly, he replaced the album on the shelf, leaned back on the couch, and picked up his book from the arm of the sofa. “Hi angel,” he called sweetly. She didn’t respond. He could hear the distinct sound of her settling her things down. Kicked her shoes off. Put her keys back on the hook. Slowly she emerged from the little entryway and Harry couldn’t even think about how mad she had been, she was so breathtaking it still amazed him. His lungs literally felt out of sync from his body. She was such a calming presence.

“Hi,” she said curtly.

Even when she was grumpy.

He smiled gently at her. “Did y’have a good lesson?”

She nodded and sat on the free chair—instead of the sofa beside him. “I’m hungry.”

“Can I make you something?” He asked, closing his book. “What would you like?”

She shrugged. “I...I kind of want tacos.”

“Well, we can go out then, m’love,” he suggested.

“Can we order in?”

“Sure, kitten,” he amended.

“Can you stop being so accommodating?” She grumbled.

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

She huffed in response. “I need to lie down; I have a headache,” she said standing to make her way to the hallway.

“Angel...” he started reaching for her wrist as she passed the back of the sofa.

“M’fine,” she mumbled pulling her hand away quickly. “Can you just order the tacos?”

He didn’t answer her because he didn’t want to be too accommodating.

*

The school year started with a hustle of things to do and things to buy. It distracted the two from how angry she had been the last month of summer. If Harry squinted, she was back to normal. He enjoyed seeing her from across the hall—especially because she looked like her old self most when she was back at the doorway smiling at students. She looked happy—even if she was pretending.

“Love,” he said softly as she was up late preparing her lesson. Her computer screen was illuminating her face. “Y’should get some sleep.” She ignored him. Didn’t even glance at him in acknowledgment. Sighing, he headed to bed. With a hand on the cold side of the mattress he actually Googled signs of falling out of love. But after reading too many that sounded like her, he locked his phone and closed his eyes.

She couldn’t be falling out of love. She was made to be in his life and Harry knew it with everything in him. It made more sense than anything he had experienced in his whole life. The earth took 365 days to rotate around the sun, Thursday went after Wednesday, and they were made to be in love.

But right now, it was feeling an awful lot like they weren’t.

*

“Can we take separate cars today?” She asked. Harry had just come out of the shower, and she was placing his tea on the counter.

“Uh...yeah, of course, love. Everything alright?”

“I promised the kids I’d watch their soccer game.”

“Oh...well, I could come along if y’want t’jus’ take the one—”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll see you at school.”

Harry was beginning to feel utterly defeated.

*

Harry was working quietly during his off period. He had one headphone in, listening to music as he wrote the opening notes on his whiteboard for his next class. He didn’t think about how she lied to him about going to the game. Even though he really couldn’t think about anything else. The kids let it slip—unknowingly. He simply asked one of the boys how the game was, but they alerted him there wasn’t a game yesterday. Harry tried to think of how the conversation would go at home; how he was supposed to broach the subject to her.

“Mr. Styles!” Someone yelled.

Harry dropped his marker the minute he was called and hurried across the hall taking in the class of worried eyes as they looked from Harry to her and pointed at the love of his life. “What’s—”

“M’fine,” she murmured and held a hand to her forehead and swayed a bit leaning against her whiteboard. “It’s just really hot in here.”

“Whoa, hey, hey,” Harry quickly made it across the classroom, he knocked papers off someone’s desk and accidentally kicked a water bottle over. “Can you call the nurse?” He asked over his shoulder to the student near the phone. The second he had his hands at her arms, she collapsed against him. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Hopefully, no one heard it—if they did, no one cared. Harry’s heart was racing as he held her up as best he could, the awkward angle she buckled into his arms made it hard to keep her from falling to the floor, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Holy shit!” A student gasped, but Harry couldn’t reprimand him because it was a needed expletive. And he was preoccupied.

Harry was anxious now. “Grab another teacher, please,” he said to the whispering class as he tried to pull her limp body to her desk chair. He hated that he was a teacher right now. He wanted to scream and whisk her out the door to the nearest hospital—he would carry her on foot if he had to. “Hey, love?” he asked, cupping her face as her eyelids fluttered rapidly. “Kitten, you with me?”

“Harry?” She croaked. Her eyebrows knitted together, and she blinked up at him so innocently she looked like the woman he adored so much—the one that didn’t hate him or lie to him.

“Hey,” he cooed softly rubbing his thumb along her temple. “Y’scared me, love. Y’alright?” He whispered.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “S’hot.”

It wasn’t. It was cold and raw today—surprisingly for the unseasonably warm September. A cold front blew quite the rainstorm in overnight, so it wasn’t hot at all. “I know, love,” he hummed, his eyebrows pinched together in further worry. Something was very wrong. “We’re going to get you checked out.”

“No,” she said firmly. “M’fine.”

“Angel,” he chided so softly.

“No,” she repeated, stronger. “M’fine. Jus’ got a bit lightheaded.” In the entire time Harry knew her he had not once seen her lightheaded. Never had she ever fainted—not even when he hit the ball in her face. That didn’t mean she couldn’t, but Harry knew something was wrong and she was pretending it wasn’t. But again, they were teachers. And they were at school. Seventeen pairs of teenaged eyes looked at the two of them at the front of the class. She stood up as the nurse appeared in her doorway and quickly denied her help. “I’m fine, I just need to drink some water.”

“Love,” Harry protested.

“Stop,” she said pointedly to Harry. “M’sorry for the scare everyone, m’really fine,” she promised. “We can get back to our lesson now.” The nurse looked on suspiciously for a moment as she reset her slideshow and regrouped her students. They eyed her nervously, afraid to not do as she asked.

So, Harry had no choice but to go back to his classroom and try not to scream.

*

“Kitten,” Harry said softly from the living room. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much. All of it. Today was the last straw.

“Yeah?” She called back tiredly. He didn’t care if she was tired.

“Can we chat?” He asked tentatively. He kept his voice gentle. He didn’t want to command it but he needed her to hash all of this out. It was making him crazy. “C’mere.”

“Harry, I’m—"

So much for not being commanding. “S’not a request, love.” It was silent for a beat and then he heard her socked feet pad quietly down the hall. She looked at Harry in the chair by himself and she sat on the sofa—right in the middle. She crossed her arms around her body protectively. Closing herself off. It was a metaphor staring right at Harry and he hated it. She stared at the coffee table while Harry shifted his body toward her. He leaned forward on the chair and braced himself. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing, you called me—”

He shook his head quickly and sighed. “No, kitten. Seriously. What’s wrong?”

“What are you talking about, Harry?” She snapped. “I was in the middle of folding laundry—”

“It can wait,” he said rubbing his hand on the back of his head. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong! I’m just—”

He shook his head angrily, could feel his breath coming in shorter pants as he was getting agitated not knowing what was wrong. Harry got out of his seat and started pacing between the coffee table and the TV as he listed all the things that had been bothering him—particularly today. “Love, you’ve been mean for over a month. You’ve been acting like it’s m’fault for whatever is making you s’mad and I don’t know what t’do. You fainted in class today! Something is wrong and you have t’tell me. I can’t take this anymore!”

She looked so angry, but she didn’t look up to meet his gaze. He saw her fingers pressed into her palms and she stared at the coffee table. She was bracing herself. Harry watched her set her jaw as she started to lie again. “Nothing—”

Harry felt so completely frustrated. He ran his hands over his face. He married her for better or for worse and this had to be the “worse” and because it felt like it. It was so heartbreaking because all he wanted was to hold her like he did during class today—it was the first time he got to touch her face without her trying to wriggle away or try to avoid him in over a month. He was infuriated she fainted, but he was grateful he got to touch her. “It feels like y’don’t love me anymore, and I don’t know what—”

It immediately broke whatever she was feeling. Because she started to cry. “No,” she gasped. “No, Harry, that’s not true,” she sniveled and wiped her sleeve across her nose. Harry wanted to console her, wrap his arms around her and hold her so tightly, but he couldn’t because if he did, it wouldn’t solve anything. She would go on hating him and ignoring him. He wouldn’t get answers and wouldn’t know what to do to fix whatever was wrong.

“Y’told me I couldn’t silence y’out after that first fight, we had and you’ve been silencing me out for s’long, angel. The kids told me you didn’t go to the game yesterday because there was no game! And I don’t even care where y’went, I just don’t know why y’thought you had t’lie to me! M’going crazy, kitten. Certifiably crazy! I almost lost it today when y’wouldn’t let the nurse look you—”

“I did something bad, Harry,” she interrupted and covered her hand over her mouth. Harry took a breath and felt his heart race. He stopped pacing. “M’sorry,” she croaked around huge, body shaking sobs.

“Kitten?” He wondered; he couldn’t stop himself. His rant left his mind. She was truly wrecked about something, it made her so painfully sad, Harry could nearly taste it in the air. His mind spun what could be wrong. While she was crying Harry tried to piece out everything, he knew about what was happening. She was mean, lying about where she was, needed a separate car, and fainted in class today. He boiled it down to two options: she was either in love with someone else or she was terminally sick. “Angel?” He questioned again as the sobs wracked her frame.

“M'sorry,” she repeated and wiped her eyes. It was some terminal illness. Had to be. His tongue felt too thick. “You’re going to hate me.”

There was no way she was in love with someone else.

“Bad?” He managed. She was dying. Sick without a cure. It couldn’t be someone else. He would...

She nodded and covered her hand over her face and tried to regulate her breathing so she could talk. But if she was sick...his stomach churned. He couldn’t live without her. If she went, he would follow right behind her. It wasn’t fair, they’d only been married a year and she was so lovely—even when she was grumpy, she was still his favorite thing in the world. “Harry—”

“You’re in love with someone else?” Harry asked desperately. She couldn’t be sick.

“What?” She sniffled. “What did you just ask me?” The tears subsided just a bit for her attitude to reappear just a bit. He could almost hear the coldness in her tone for Harry deigning to ask her such a thing.

“You’re sick then?” He questioned, he finally came to her side, crouched on his knees and pulled her arms from around her shaking frame, he twined their fingers together and he felt so sick at the idea of losing her. “I don’t know, angel, m’jus so lost and I love you so much,” he said his face crumpling in pain that it made her feel nauseous. “I don’t want you to be sick and s’the only thing I can think of—you’re dying...and I can’t...imagine...you can’t leave, so it has to be you’re in love with—”

“No,” she shook her head sniffling still. “M’not sick, and you’re stupid for thinking I could ever love anyone else,” the grumpiness in her voice returned momentarily.

Harry felt relieved briefly. “Then what is it, kitten?”

She closed her eyes and sniffled. Harry felt her squeeze his hands for the first time in over a month and the pressure made everything in him warm. He waited anxiously for her lips to move and speak. “M’pregnant,” she whispered so quietly Harry wasn’t even sure she spoke; thought maybe his imagination had enough of guessing and worrying.

There was not a sound to be heard in the room. “What was that m’love?” He asked nervously.

She sniffled and inhaled shakily. “M’pregnant,” she whispered again.

Harry felt like his brain was broken. He wasn’t processing those words. Surely the cause of their strained relationship was not because she was pregnant, and she didn’t tell him. Harry tried to remember the last time he saw a tampon in the trash bin. He couldn’t remember. “Pregnant?” He repeated.

She nodded. “Yes,” she wiped her eyes and sniveled. “M’sorry,” she said, her lower lip wobbling ridiculously as she apologized. “M’so sorry for everything, Harry. I was mean and I was—I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t want you to hate me and I—”

Harry shook his head trying to get some of the wires to cross and fire. “What are you...angel, why are you apologizing? Why...why would you think I’d hate you?” He asked.

“Because you don’t want to have a baby right now!”

“What are you talking about?” He said in shock. “Kitten,” he cupped her cheeks. “You’re going t’have a baby?” He repeated stupidly. She nodded.

Harry’s face broke into a smile, but she didn’t even get to enjoy how beautiful he looked with those deadly dimples and crinkly eyes because he pressed his lips to hers at the same time. He could taste all the salty tears she shed over the last few minutes on his tongue, and he pulled her to him as close as he could squeezing her as much as he could without worrying about the little baby growing in her body. She moaned softly against his lips making him sigh with relief. He pulled away finally, rested his forehead against hers. Rubbed his thumb along her cheek and brushed away the tears. “How long have you known, angel?” He asked softly.

“You’re not mad?” She whispered.

He shook his head. “How long, love?”

“A month. I had an appointment yesterday to confirm...I’m...seven weeks along.”

Harry felt the breath leave his lungs and he pressed a hand on her stomach. “Kitten.”

“You’re not mad?” She repeated.

“Angel, what are you talking about? ‘Course m’not mad,” he said pulling her toward him. He brought her fingers to his lips as he kissed each fingertip. “M’mad this little one made you faint, mad y’went to an appointment on your own, and mad you didn’t tell me. But not that you’re pregnant—why would I even be mad about—”

“You told me literally two months ago that we can’t have a baby because it’s not the right time; we don’t have a house and it would be a lot of work with all of our other obligations—”

“Oh my God,” Harry sighed in annoyance. He can vaguely hear the conversation in his head. He didn’t think much of it. It was a matter of fact—a house would be better to have before a baby. But it didn’t mean he was going to hate her if the baby came out of order. “Kitten, m’so madly, desperately, disgustingly in love with you...that is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said t’me.”

She frowned. “You’re not mad?”

“Kitten,” he sighed, if she asked one more time, he might actually get mad. “Have you seriously been grumpy for a month because you thought I’d hate you?” She nodded silently. Harry rolled his eyes. “And you didn’t tell me because?”

“I thought if...if I figured something out...like I wasn’t actually pregnant and just...I don’t know infertile...you’d hate me less.”

Harry blinked. “We’ll come back to that,” he shook his head. “Kitten,” he admonished.

“What?” She asked innocently.

“We’re going to have a baby,” he said with a smile growing on his face and he pulled her to his lap and wrapped his arms around her. It was like the first night they had ever spent together, snuggled onto the couch and her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His hand pressed protectively over her stomach.

“You’re really not mad?”

“My God, love.”

She was quiet. “I was so sure you would be mad...I didn’t even think about...I didn’t imagine you could be happy.”

He tilted her chin up to gaze down at her. “You are the best thing in my life. You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever known. I vowed to keep you safe for as long as we live. A baby is going to be hard no matter when we have it,” he whispered. “Kitten, I love you and all the babies we’re ever going to have,” he promised. “You didn’t need to hide that from me, and you didn’t need to be mean.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Harry, truly—”

“Angel, you’re about to carry a baby for us in your body for nine months and the silly little thing is going to ruin your hormones and make you do crazy things. You are forgiven now and always,” he said pressing his lips on her forehead.

She sighed, resting her head on his chest again. “Can we just stay like this for a while? I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered.

“Yes, kitten. Always,” he murmured. His thumb inched her shirt up a bit and he drew circles on her skin there. “I adore you,” he mumbled into her hair. The relief and happiness he felt in knowing she wasn’t going to feel so miserable about him anymore was overwhelming. He thought this would be the first night he’d sleep well since July. He was excited to hold her and the baby. “Both of you. Always,” he promised.

[barbiewritesstuff]

Oooooohhh i have another one sorry :p

Asking cyclone to give you a hickey?? :p

--

I'm back :) sorry for going for so long but my mental health was (and still is a little) in shambles. Now that it's a little better, I'm returning to projects and I'm super excited to finish them and start new ones, than you all for you patience ❤❤❤

Mature content ahead, if you are under 18 I WILL YEET YOU

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2

--

"I don't like the way the others are looking at you, " he says, kissing your exposed shoulder. The bed sheets are covering your lower half as you scrolled through social media while laying on your tummy.

It's Sunday. The only day the two of you have off at the same time and that means it's the day you spend in bed, lazing about, chatting, watching tv and sleeping together. You love it. They're your favourite days, you wish you could commit them all into memory so you can spend the entirety of your sunset years replaying your favourite moments.

Sadly, this morning started off way too productive for your tastes. Beau got up early to walk his mother's dog, a disgusting little french bulldog named Leopold that you love very much and then stayed up to read a book instead of holding you close and falling back asleep. When you woke up he was sitting up against the headrest, his brand new reading glasses,which you teased him endlessly for, on the bridge of his nose, making him look like a college professor. Pouting because he didn't give you your morning cuddles, you had turned around to explore facebook and he had, very sneakily, gotten rid of the book and worked you out of your pijamas, kissing every inch of you to draw your attention to him.

It had almost worked. You were about to put the phone down when a text from your wingman had lit up the locked screen and Beau had been pulled away from his plans by a sudden insecurity.

"The others?" You asked, amused.

Beau wasn't usually the type to admit he was jealous. Truthfully, he's not usually the type to get jealous. After all, he has you in his bed, and they don't. He gets to fuck you into the small hours of the night and they don't. He gets to see you in the morning, still sore from the night before, bringing him his coffee. They don't. Really, he's not usually the type to get insecure. He knows you're his. And he trusts that you know it too.

The issue is that no matter how well the other pilots and naval staff know that you're his, it doesn't really seem to stop them much. They still flirt with you, they still gawk at you like starved men looking at a buffet, and a few brave (or stupid) ones still ask you out. It pisses him off.

"Seresin and all that," he answers, because admitting to you that the entire male half of the naval base is bothering him feels a little too possessive.

"Jealous, baby?" You ask, Beau doesn't answer. He tries to evade your question by resuming his kissing, moving himself so he's lying on top of you, his growing trouser tent resting against your already aching core. He nibbles the crook of your neck and then smoothes over the reddened area with a few gentle strokes of his tongue.

"Why don't you mark me up? Show them who I belong to," you add

"Like a hickey?" He asks, voice muffled by the flesh of your neck.

You hum in response. He grinds his hips against your ass a few times, slowly and carefully, making sure his entire length grazes where you need it most without actually giving you the pressure you want.

"Okay," he says, wasting no time to suck a purple bruise into your skin, and then another, and another. The trail of hickeys goes down until it reaches the waistband of your panties where his lips abandon their assignment to suck on something else until you see stars.

[sardonic-the-writer]

━"Manning The Mics"

━Tw: None

━Notes: I have delted this over five times on accident. If there's any typos- too bad so sad I'm never revisiting this. It took so long ;-;

━Song: "Why Am I Anxious" By Tom Cardy

"You know I have the power to fire you right."

Giggles filled with pure mirth came from (Y/n) as they tried not to double over, staring at their unamused boss, whom, was covered head to toe in sticky notes.

Their record for how many post-it notes they could place on one person had been 18. Had been.

Now it was a whopping 23.

As one could clearly tell if they took one look at the man in front of (Y/n).

You know, suprisingly, working at a studio downtown dedicated to airing a local t.v channel wasn't all that entertaining. Especially when someone like (Y/n)—who had mounds of untapped potential according to the company—was stuck wiping the dust off of camera lenses instead of putting their four years at college to use.

What's the use of going to school for a degree in sound design if they didn't even use it.

So they had to find a way to spice up their day to day routine. That didn't involve loitering around the snack table untill the day ended. (The coffee tasted like shit anyways.) What better way than slapping half a pad of post-its on your co-workers.

"If I didn't like you so much I would have kicked you out a long while ago."

(Y/n) paused their laughing fit to swipe dramatically at the corner of their eyes, pretending to wipe a tear away.

"Yeah. But you wouldn't want to get rid of 'one of the most talented workers you've seen in years'. Your words not mine." They clasped their hands together with an overdone grin, looking up at their (still) uninterested boss. He just grumbled at them in response.

Honestly Robert wasn't a bad supervisor. He never yelled at anyone, only tossing the occasional death glare when people needed to be reminded of things. Which was much appreciated concidering his sagging eyebags and sardonic demeanor made it seen like he would and could snap at the smallest thing.

He was pretty nice to (Y/n) anyways. Treated them like a hyper cousin. You know; the one you always saw getting yelled at by their mom at family gatherings because they put a whoopee cushion on someone's seat.

"Listen. I didnt call you in here to talk about, er, this." Robert plucked a blue sticky note off his temple, crumbling the material up into a ball and flicking it across the room.

It landed in the waste bin by his desk perfectly, making (Y/n) widen their eyes with an entertained smile. Robert didn't share their enthusiasm.

"I got an email from HQ this morning. One of the cast members saw you, ah 'performing by the water cooler' the other day so to speak, and wanted to meet you for something in building 2M today. As in, fifteen-minutes-from-right-now today."

(Y/n) saw a flash of remorse pass across his eyes. His tone was gentler now. The kind of gentle tone people use when they tell you your dog was just run over by a steam roller.

They felt their heart drop, face twisting into an unpleasant expression.

It had just been a bit of goofing off. Balancing a cherry on their nose before popping it in their mouth and tying the stem like a magician presenting their next trick—that kind of stuff. They didn't even know a cast member would be there. If so they would have used one of their sick days ahead of time. (Can you blame them. No one wants to be in the same room as their boss when their working.)

"Do you know who saw-"

"No. I don't know. I'm sorry (Y/n)." Robert's lips twitched down into a frown full of sympathy. He reached out to place a hesitant pat on their arm, the gesture holding a lot more meaning than anyone would think.

"If they try to fire you, quit before they can. That's business 101."

Well that certantly made them feel a lot better.

"Thanks. Want me to just hand in my resignation now or-?"

"Shut up (Y/n)." He rolled his eyes. But there was no annoyance behind it.

"You need to get going anyways. And-" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"-good luck."

"Just make sure my headstone looks nice and neat alright?"

"Fuck off."

Offices surrounded by glass should be illegal.

That's all that was going through (Y/n)'s brain as they walked through the winding hallways of headquarters. More specifically building M2.

They could see everything going on in the rooms due to those stupid glass walls, yet nothing at the same time. It was anxiety inducing.

But also what-the-fuck inducing.

A man with a cowboy hat, sunglasses, and atrocious mouth mullet was talking to a group of terrified looking people in one area while waving around what was, hopefully, a fake gun.

In the room next to him was a masked figure in a skin tight black body suit, posing like a superhero while resting their comically large hands by his hips. They almost looked to be roleplaying if anything.

The company didn't talk about this in the introduction video.

What room were they supposed to be in again? The lady at the front desk had said the one with the cream walls right? Or was it gray-

They let their feet lead them down a few more twists and turns while trying not to think about it too much. The contents in the rooms only got more bizarre as they went, albeit less and less people occupying them untill no one was left.

The journey only paused when a room on their right came up, big bold letters above it reading Conference Room.

Hey, that room looked cream colored enough.

(Y/n) pushed the glass door open, head popping in as they scanned the contents of the place. Just as their view from the outside suggested, no one was in there.

"Yeah. Okay. That's great. Invite me up here why don't you. Give me a heart attack why don't you. Make sure not to show up before me why don't you."

Their words were full of nerves, bones in their neck popping as they cracked it anxiously.

Who exactly was the cast again? They knew the general idea that surrounded all of them. The Big Men. The bosses. The people who ran this entire company in their free time.

Wispers about who exactly they were ran rampant on set some days. How one was a demon. The other was an insane pink Willy Wonka. Someone even had a thoery that they were all just fragments of one mans mind, which was met with as many eyerolls and scoffs as one would think.

Honestly (Y/n) had never paid much attention to any of the theories. They were never gonna meet the guys in charge anyways, so why bother? They'd much rather spend their time getting their job done quickly so they could spend the rest of their shift goofing off.

But now, walking around the oval shaped table and eyeing the place skeptically, they wish they had listened in to those conversations.

"Ah! Wonderful! We were wondering when you would show up sugarplum!"

(Y/n) nearly jumped three feet in the air, whirling around to the source of their sudden spike in heart rate.

Right where seconds ago no one had been sitting were six individual men surrounding the brown table.

Everyone looked the same. But different. It was a wonder how they had never really seen any of them before, despite working on set and them being the 'main cast'.

They all were staring straight at (Y/n), who swore their face lost all color at the attention.

Each one was dressed in different attire, ranging vastly from suits to hospital scrubs. A couple of them even looked to be glitching. Or was that buffering? They couldn't tell.

"Well come on! Sit down sit down. There's a chair right next to Bim and Hosty right there!"

Their eyes flickered to the enthusiastic man with messy brown hair, his voice slurred as if he'd been drinking. A pink tinted mustache moved with his words, which they couldn't help but stare at for a moment.

Nonetheless they listened, walking over to the chair he spoke of and slowly sitting down. If they hadnt felt small enough being stared at by six separate pairs of eyes, they certantly did now.

The one—Hosty he had been called?—on their left was a man in a light brown trench coat. He was rather handsome looking, albeit solom. He had a bandage around his head, weaving through his dark tresses and covering his vision. There looked to be dried blood stains where his eyes were, causing them to wonder how he could even see them.

"The Host thinks it's rude to stare."

(Y/n) quickly looked away at their words, choosing instead to eye the other man beside their seat.

Not like they had much of a chance to before a hand was shoved in their face.

"HI! Bim here. Bim Trimmer. Extrodinare in everything! That's Bim Trimmer. B-I-M, T-"

"Alright that's enough Bim. You're startling them." Someone said with a sigh.

The hand pointing straight inbetween the area of their eyes slowly reclined, Bims smile still ever present—if a bit forced now.

Who the absolute hell were these people.

"Wilford, why exactly are we all here?"

"Ah, yes. That!"

(Y/n)s eyes furrowed in the slightest, shifting in their seat as they watched the smiling man shuffle around for some papers. His tounge would come out and lick his lips occasionally and they tried not to acknowledge Wilfords little wink when he noticed them looking.

He then slammed a file decorated with stickers down on the table, patting it gently as if he didn't just completely demolish it against the furnitures surface.

"(Y/n) (L/n)! Works in building 4A, mic check crew. Born in Nevada, moved to Ohio to pursue their career in sound design! An adventurous little thing."

"We know Wilford. I recal reading the report on their interview. A very interesting one." A very monotone voice said, before screaming.

(Y/n)s eyes widened as a red and blue verson of the person across from them split in the air, howling. They looked to be in the worst pain imaginable. It was enough to make (Y/n) forget about the mention of their rather embarassing interview. (Let's just say the janitor had to stay overnight that day)

And then the figures were gone.

"Host notices (Y/n) jump. He wishes tell them that they were not imagining that. It is simply Dark becoming a bit aggitated."

Alright. So that made no sense. Perfect.

How to deal with this. Avoid eye contact? No they were already doing that. Music? Earbuds were in the car damnit. Oh-

Humor.

"So, is this gonna be done by my lunch break, because I have some tofu in the fridge I really can't let sit too long. Last time that happened I had to quarantine for a few months and oh boy-"

Their words faded the more they talked, nerves increasing by the moment.

Alright so no jokes. Tough crowd.

"Are you going to fire me? Becuase if so I quit first."

That made Wiford let out a hearty laugh, a few others joining in with small chuckled. Even the monochrome ones lips tilted up slightly, his expression having been stony untill now.

"Fire you? Why of course not! On the contrary sugar! Here, have some candy."

Before (Y/n) could say anything in retaliation a lollipop was shoved forcefully in their mouth. They gagged on it slightly, muffling out a 'hey!' as the sweet flavor coated their tounge.

Wilford just winked.

Host quietly narrated their flushed face with a slight tilt of his head.

They worked the treat around with their tounge, successfully muted as Wilford continued to go on a rant, pacing around the room and its inhabitants. Tossing out reasons why he had called them all up here with the occasional off topic discussion.

"-ut (Y/n) we were wondering if you'd like to come work in our building! On Warfstashe Tonight to be specific." He finally finished, filling with his suspenders and leaning down to look them in the eye with half closed lids.

He was so close, they could have stuck him in the eye with the end of their lollipop stick—and honestly was thinking about it just to see what would happen. So thank god for Host.

"The Host feels a bit neglected when Wilford fails to mention his podcast."

"Yeah, what The Host said. I'm Bim Trimmer! The Bim Trimmer! I need a mic guy too for my show about me! Bim!"

"They could help me with my diagnosis'. It's always more fun to tell people that their dying with an audience."

"I-I have no-o use f-for a us-seless huma-an."

Fuck you too blue shirt guy.

"Settle now." The dark man said again. Wait, dark? Dark.

(Y/n) thought someone had called him that. Strange name. However, it fit them.

"Wilford I recommend you stop playing with this poor human and get on with it. We can all figure out a schedule later. We've already confused them enough."

"You're no fun Darky." Wilford pouted, snatching the lollipop right out of (Y/n)'s mouth and placing it in his own. He sighed as he walked away, licking it at his leisure.

They blinked at the unsanitary action.

"But fiiiiine. Meeting dismissed. That means you too bubblegum. I can escort you out to your car if you'd like."

The pinkette was smiling at them innocently while twirling the spit coated treat around in his hand. But with the way Wilford looked them up and down they felt like he wanted to do more than just escort them to their car.

By now most of the other members at the table had gotten up to leave, shuffling around and making small talk amongst themselves. Not many spared an extra glance at (Y/n). Which they were thankful for. Their head was already spinning a little.

"Uh, no thanks Wilford. I'll just go back to my erm, building now." They declined his offer as politely as possible.

"You have some important tofu waiting for you if I'm not mistaken." Dark smoothed down his suit as he stood up, red and blue iris' boring into (Y/n)s own as he spoke. They had forgotten he was even there, which unnerved them a little. Silent guy.

"Uh, yes. Yes. That's it. Mhm yes totally. Tofu. I'll go get that and then I'll just- see what's left to do around here." (Y/n) stuffed their hands into their pockets, already starting to inch towards the door stiffly.

Wilford whined once or twice. But the glass door slammed in his face before any real words could make it out of his mouth, (Y/n)s pace increasing as they sped walked away with eyes as big as dinner plates.

They mentally thanked Dark for an opportunity out of there. They had never had trouble socializing in any sort of way, but in that room being offered so many promotions—could they even be called promotions if you're just thrust into the job—it felt more like they were being cooed and ogled at by a bunch of higher beings. Mainly Wilford.

But- whatever. They would do their research. The deranged Willy Wonka theory didn't seem too crazy anymore.

For now though–

–they were really craving a lollipop.