#big time rush ficlet

[ceruleanmusings]

Blood Diamond; Year One

prologue

Brooke sighed a long, weary sigh, bringing her shoulders down and pressing two fingers to her throbbing temples when the front door closed behind the departing guests with a heavy thud. Sterling probably threw his body weight against it again. That's what he got for not fixing it when she noticed it started to sag a few months ago.

It's fine, he said. It still closes. Isn't that the point?

Which was funny because she thought the whole point of a door was for it to actually work. He kept huffing and sighing and saying he'd fix it but, next thing she knew, he was stumbling through it with his ramrod of a shoulder and alcohol-guided legs.

He'd sag onto the doorknob, laughing in delayed mirth about how some "bodacious babe" threw a bra to him on stage and how "he still got it" and give Brooke that look. As if he wanted her to be the one in the crowds taking off her undergarments and throwing them at him for some cheap show of possession. Because the ring on his finger and the photo evidence of their flash-in-the-pan basement wedding that he insisted on meant nothing, apparently.

....Well, at least they'd have that in common.

He'd stumble and stagger into their room, shedding himself of his smoke-filled clothes along the way, waking James up like he always did. And he'd laugh and make faces at their little boy only to then flop onto the bed and be out within two breaths, smearing his grimy and sweaty body on her clean sheets and Brooke would be stuck trying to get him back down at two in the morning.

How was that fair?

"Mama?"

Brooke opened her eyes and turned towards James, not bothering to hide her sneer. It was mostly directed at her husband but James had a hand in it too. Uttering that word again.

He's advanced, the doctors said when she lugged him to another pediatric checkup. Most kids don't start speaking until around twelve months on average. He was seven months at that point. A little butterball who grabbed at everything and clung to her like he was fused to her skin.

Everyone was excited to know he was already speaking and that's all they could talk about. Repeating him like a deranged pack of parrots, clapping their hands and opening their faces in exaggerated and grotesque displays of wonder.

You should be so proud! they said. Proud of what? She had nothing to do with that.

She was proud she was able to drop the weight James bestowed upon her within four months of giving birth but no one complimented her on that. No one paid attention to that. No one said anything about how she managed to wrangle two children and keep her home immaculate when James got into everything and Sterling seemed allergic to keeping his clothes off the floor. (That part she didn't mind in the beginning, his body was as handsome as his face, but now it was just pathetic.)

And now it happened all over again. She spent how many hours on the phone just to plan the perfect party for James' first brithday? It was a big deal, apparently. And yet everyone was focused on him and didn't bother to compliment her on the color scheme she'd chosen, the food she had slaved over, the outfit she had perfectly planned, the toys she bought him (of which he promptly ignored and only played with the boxes. How ungrateful!)

Her aunt had tried to suggest getting James something silly like a smash cake but Brooke shut that down in an instant. James would be smashing nothing, thank you very much, and she didn't need his grubby, cake-y fingers all over her clothes, ruining her look that she spent three hours perfecting. It was her first big event after having James. She needed to look like she had it all together.

But James was the star of the show, as usual. His feet didn't touch the ground, he was passed along like a sack of potatoes from one relative to the next. (No, that wasn't a dig, he was getting to be a large and heavy boy. She'd be keeping an eye on that.) And they oohed and aahed and cooed over him wiggling in their arms, making noises of distress, and mumbling, "Mama, Mama" over and over again until she had to take him back.

And now, there he sat plonked on the floor, looking up at her with those big, beautiful hazel eyes that people couldn't stop gushing over, head tilted to the side as if sizing her up.

"Mama?" he repeated, stretching out his arms, lowering lip sticking out.

She sighed again. "What? What do you need now?"

His lip sucked back in. He lowered his arms, head turning this way and that. Then he leaned forward, latching his claw-like fingers on the coffee table he'd bumped his head against a few times too many—because he didn't listen when she told him to stay away from it—and grunted and groaned and lifted himself up onto wobbly legs.

Brooke stared, gaped, as James' brows furrowed and his body wiggled and he took a tentative step forward. Gasping, she surged forward, nearly collapsing out her chair, and placed a hand on James' shoulder. He looked up at her, face breaking into a beaming smile only for it to fade when she pressed down and sat him back onto his butt.

"Did he...?"

"Hmm?" Brooke turned her eyes over to Sterling who stood in the door frame. Leaning back on her heels, she casually brushed her hair out of her face. His eyes bounced back and forth between James and Brooke's faces

"Did James just walk?" Sterling's finger cut through the still air, almost as if he were accusing her of something. Which was very rude.

"Oh..." She wracked her brain, glancing at James. James stared back, hands bunched up in front of his mouth, lips wiggling as if trying to decide to smile or frown. "No," she said, voice light. "You must be seeing things. He's not ready for that." Sterling stared at her with that stupid look on his face and she waved him away, telling him he forgot to clean and sterilize the baby bottles. Again. Sterling mumbled something about getting around to it but it faded away to an annoying buzz since Brooke turned her focus back to James.

He can't be walking. Not yet. If he had tried that at the party? It'd be pandemonium and she might as well be the forgotten neighbor down the street. No. He wasn't walking. Not if she had anything to do with it. Leaning close until they were almost nose to nose, she said, "You just stay there a little bit longer." James giggled, grabbed her face, and smacked a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

She wiped it off.

@witchofinterest @partiallypearl @raging-violets @myloveforhergoeson

[raging-violets]

Big Time Jobs I - Kendall, Logan, Riley, and Rhuben

A/N: I hope the jumping of quotes was easy to figure out who was speaking when. If not, I'll make it clearer. Hope you guys like it!

@ceruleanmusings @partiallypearl @witchofinterest

The cacophony of the screaming children had become such background noise to Kendall and Logan, who sat slumped in their momentary prison that they didn’t react to the loud cracking sound and bellows of laughter that came from the bathroom.

“What do you think that was?” Kendall asked.

Logan shrugged, only able to move his shoulders, arms pinned to his sides and hands behind his back. “Probably the toilet. For some reason, kids love to play in the toilet.” He winced, shrinking back when one of the screaming kids ran by, tossing a roll of toilet paper into his face.

Kendall’s face screwed up, eyes shifting. “Uh, I never played in the toilet.”

Eyes widening, Logan squeaked out, “Me neither.”

The two looked over as the door to the crib opened. Simultaneously, they sighed in relief seeing Riley and Rhuben walk into the apartment. They looked around in stunned silence, so much so that they barely reacted when two screaming boys ran by, clobbering each other over the head with pillows.

“What the fu—” Rhuben cut Riley off, placing her hand over her twin’s mouth with a reminder of, “Little ears.”

Pressing her lips together, Riley thought for a moment. “How the he—” she made a humming sound, thinking. “I reckon I can’t censor myself enough convey the gravity of this situation.”

“What happened?” Rhuben asked instead, the girls moving close to their friends, surveying the damage. She grabbed an end of the rope and started to remove it while Kendall and Logan quickly explained what’d happened at the Palm Woods and Rocque Records that led them to their predicament.

“And you boofheads managed to get tied up how?” Riley asked, rubbing at her forehead while listening to the story.

Rhuben twisted back and forth as she worked to untie the knots that had been placed around Kendall and Logan. Tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, she twisted her arms back and forth before slapping Logan on the arm. “Stop wiggling,” she stated.

Kendall twisted his head to respond to Riley, while also working to remove the suction cup dart that was stuck to his face. “Because these kids are evil and they’re slippery!”

Riley rolled her wrist, indicating there had to be more to the story. “But they had to have talked you into sitting down…” She placed her hands on her hips, cocking her head. “Don’t tell me these ankle-biters talked you into playing cops and robbers!”

Rhuben snorted, still unwinding ropes. “That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Logan practically whined. “I never babysat before!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

Riley turned her attention away from Logan and Rhuben as they started to bicker. She reached out her hand and placed it atop Kendall’s head, turning him to face her fully. “You have a little sister, Ken-duh, you should know how to babysit, yeah?”

“Yes, but,” Kendall wiggled one of his arms out from beneath the ropes then stuck a finger in the air. “I’ve never babysat Katie.” He blinked once at her. “I watched her.”

Her nose wrinkled. “How is that any different?”

“She could do whatever she wanted…while I watched her.”

“Wha—”

“—Have you met Katie? No one can babysit her. Even as a baby I couldn’t get her to sit!” He turned his head as a blonde girl ran by with a toy dart gun in her hands. She leapt onto the couch and moved to open the window. “Hey, hey, don’t do that.”

“I’m going to do whatever I want,” the girl replied with a saccharine sneer. “’Cause my mom says I can’ do whatever I want because I’m worthy of doing whatever I want.” Kendall’s and Logan’s eyebrows rose while Riley and Rhuben looked at her suspiciously. “That’s what she always tells me, that I’m enough and I’m worthy.”

“Okay, we have to stop this now,” Logan said, frantically shifting his weight against the ropes. “Or else she’s going to fall out the window and into the pool.”

“Stop wiggling!” Rhuben said with more force.

“The water would cushion her fall,” Kendall groused. “At least someone would get to use the pool.”

“She could drown!” Logan practically squealed.

“Eh, she’ll be fine.” Riley waved her hand. “We tossed Syd into a pool from higher than this to see if he’d learn how to swim.” She paused. “Shockingly, he’s still alive. So, she’ll be fine, yeah?”

“But—”

“—I’m worthy and I’m enough!” The girl repeated, voice increasing in volume.

“Well, we’ve got to do something to get these kids to calm down,” Kendall insisted. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

“You should’ve thought of that before you put yourself in this mess, Hockey-Head.”

“I AM WORTHY! I AM—”

“—ENOUGH!” In unison, Riley and Rhuben whipped toward the girl and barked out the order.

She immediately fell silent, blinking up at them. The other kids became quiet as well, watching the show. Finally, Rhuben removed the ropes from the boys and turned toward the girl. Speaking in an eerily calm voice, she said, “You’re going to sit down and watch the Ziggle Zaggles. Or else we’ll make you take a nap and catch some zeds.”

All the kids sit and did as they were told while Riley grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Once all the kids were zombies, she turned back to Kendall and Logan and folded her arms saying, “Now, you have a couple hours of babysitting left, would you like us to stick around and help?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in unison.

[kendelias]

If they had a kid for Cordelia and Kendall? <3

ohhh my faves.... they have three but im gonna go with the oldest <3

Name: victoria 'tori' knight

Gender: cis female

General Appearance: brown hair she's dyed pink at the ends, green eyes, short like her mom lmao

Personality: kind, practical, independent, extremely confident, feminist legend, argumentative but only when people deserve it

Special Talents: ice skating, writing (everything from essays to poetry), playing piano, embroidery

Who they like better: cordelia

Who they take after more: cordelia

Personal Head canon: the oldest daughter and that is FELT - keeps her siblings in line, always handling their schedules and stuff, etc. can sing but has a deep and terrible stage fright. the kind of kid who changes her mind every day whether she wants to be an olympian or a lawyer or what. she is a lesbian and it's a huge part of her personality as she's an activist and advocate for her community (she has def helped organize her local pride parade and big time rush is performing tyvm).

Face Claim: mackenzie foy

send me a pair name and I’ll tell you what I think it would be like if they had a child.

[icegirl2772]

My iPod Shuffle Challenge Response

@partiallypearl and @myloveforhergoeson Saw you guys do this, so I thought I'd (finally) do my own.

To the surprise of no one, my list is Jaelyn (James/Kaelyn - yeah, I gave them a ship name). I am cheating a bit, though, and using Spotify. Specifically, my playlist that's created from my Top Songs from 2023 (I'm more likely to get songs that won't make me go WTF). (Considering I don't have an iPod anymore.)

But down below are the rules for anyone who wants to do it:

IPod Shuffle Challenge Rules: Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle. Write a ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards! No editing! Do ten of these, and then post them.

Song One: The Thing About You by Chloe Agnew

The thing about Kaelyn was how happy she made James.

It was something he had noticed when they were kids. Even when they were five years old, he was always so excited to see her. He was excited to see all of his friends, but there was something different about Kaelyn (aside from the obvious of her being his only female friend). And it was something that only grew as they did.

Eventually, they weren't children anymore. They were teenagers. And James was able to name that thing about Kaelyn.

That thing was love.

It still took him a long time to say that thing. For so many reasons. But when he did and he walked into her arms, he decided he had come home.

--

Song Two: I Won't Let You Go by Switchfoot and Lauren Daigle

Kaelyn was one of the few who saw first hand just how much James struggled with his parents' divorce. She was one of the few he would let his guard down around. Drop the façade he had worked so hard to perfect.

Both of his parents were strong-willed. Career-driven. Never willing to back down. Many would say it was amazing his parents lasted as long as they had. But at least he could say his mother loved him in her own way. James' father seemed eager to replace his family with his quick remarriage. (He's waiting for the day his father announces his wife's pregnancy to really solidify that feeling.)

The night the divorce papers came through, James was on the phone to Kaelyn in tears. Because that was also the day his dad decided to tell him he was remarrying to a woman fifteen years younger than his mother. He was barely waiting for the ink to dry.

The next time Kaelyn saw James after that phone call, she held him. Comforted him through those fears that only she knew about. They were only 13. Too young to deal with this.

But old enough for Kaelyn to understand the gravity of the promise she was making to herself:

I won't let you go.

--

Song Three: Livin on a Prayer by Bon Jovi

When all the members of Big Time Rush got their open license, they all started taking turns taking their Big Time Rush Mobile out for a spin. Really relishing in the freedom that came with having an open license rather than a leaner's permit.

Admittedly - especially since they all embarked on romantic relationships - most of those drives involved dates.

And that was where James and Kaelyn were. They were driving through Los Angeles with the top down. Taking in the ocean breeze it afforded them. Sunglasses covering their twinkling eyes. Smiles as bright as the sun that shone down on them. Hair blowing in the wind. Kaelyn had her hands reaching up to the sky in jubilation every once in a while.

It was a beautiful piece of freedom.

But the best part of what they were doing was singing along to the radio. Between the two of them, the teens had a rather eclectic music taste. So, one of their favourite pastimes while driving was finding a radio station, turning the volume up and singing along at the top of their lungs. (Okay. Maybe exchanging a quick kiss when it was safe somewhat topped that.)

But right now, they were singing along to a classic that had to be sung at the top of their lungs.

Oh, we're halfway there! Oh! Livin' on a prayer!

--

Song Four: Gotta Be Somebody by Bucky Covington

When Big Time Rush did eventually go on hiatus (they never wanted to say parted ways - because they always knew they would come back together), it felt like the natural decision. Nobody told them it would happen.

They both just came to the natural conclusion that they wanted to take some time to pursue solo opportunities away from Big Time Rush.

It did not surprise anyone that James immediately went to work on a solo album. Kaelyn and Gustavo were right him every step of the way. Like they were with the other three when they said they wanted to release solo music.

James' solo album was a massive success. His songs were all over the radio. He was being nominated for all of these awards (even winning a few of them). It did not surprise him when Griffin immediately had him go on an international tour to really capitalize on this success.

And it was on this last night of the tour that Kaelyn - her belly rounded as she entered her fifth month of pregnancy - approached James with a big smile and a scrap of paper he had written as a child.

I'm gonna be somebody.

--

Song Five: Time of Our Life by Big Time Rush

Kaelyn laughed as she twirled the dance floor in her white dress. Her groom, her husband - it felt so natural to say - dancing alongside her in his tuxedo.

Their wedding day was beautiful. Gustavo officiated. Jennifer walked her down the aisle. Kelly was the wedding planner. The boys collectively shared the role of best men (because there was no way James was choosing between them - although, Kendall was the witness who signed the marriage license with them) while Katie served as maid of honour.

It all led to the reception. After the food and the speeches, the couple shared their first dance. And once that was over, the dance floor was open for everyone else, with James and Kaelyn opting to not have spotlight parent/child dances.

Unsurprisingly, Big Time Rush somehow made its way onto the DJ's playlist. It was something that amused everyone to no end. But nobody complained. In fact, it made the night even more perfect.

Especially as the chorus of a certain song played that highlighted a promise:

We're gonna party all night Have the time of our lives, girl

--

Song Six: Stay the Night - Zedd and Hayley Williams

It really was a bad idea. Starting out like this. They had to know.

But James and Kaelyn couldn't stop themselves. They didn't want to catch each other as they fell onto the bed. They didn't want to end the kiss that seemed endless. They didn't want to stop their hands from wandering. They didn't want to stop their bodies from acting on feeling and instinct.

And they didn't want to stop everything they did next.

That included laying there. Skin to skin. Arms wrapped around their flushed bodies. Saying everything and saying nothing.

"I probably shouldn't stay," James stated.

And deep down, Kaelyn knew he was right. He really shouldn't stay. It increased the risk of them getting caught. It complicated things.

But they had broken so many rules that it made her wonder if breaking one more would really matter.

"I know," Kaelyn sighed. "But I want you to stay."

And at the end of it, James wanted to stay too.

So he did. He stayed the night.

--

Song Seven: Rhythm of the Night by DeBarge

Mr. X was a peculiar character, but he was arguably one of the best choreographers in Hollywood. And someone who could put up with Big Time Rush's antics.

In fact, he knew how to use them in his favour and deliver great results.

But today was an off day. For all of them.

No matter how hard they all tried, the choreography did not want to sink in. Their muscles refused to commit it to memory. In fact, some would say their bodies would outright refuse to cooperate.

So, Mr. X suggested they call it a day. They were getting nowhere fast.

James may have been aching by the time he returned home after the rehearsal, but those aches seemed to be forgotten when he saw Kaelyn. She was cooking dinner, having finished her work with Gustavo early. She had the radio on in the kitchen and was dancing to whatever song came on.

Despite the aches in his body - despite the source of his frustration being dance - James found himself joining her.

He let loose. Laughing and smiling as he twirled her around the kitchen. Kissing her smile as his hands rested on her abdomen (he really couldn't wait for the twelve-week mark) before moving on to do his skincare regimen before dinner.

Sometimes, he needed to be carried away by the rhythm of the night.

--

Song Eight: How I Go by Yellowcard

It was their impending parenthood that made James and Kaelyn really reflect on their parents.

Mama Knight was the type of parent they aspired to be. She wasn't perfect, but she was the best they had.

Mrs. Diamond... she definitely loved her son. She didn't go about things the best way, but James had to admit. The love was there. And she wanted the best for him (even if she was misguided in what that best was).

Their dads weren't worth talking about, both men seem to be more interested in shirking their responsibilities in parenthood than stepping up.

The words did not need to be spoken between the couple. They both knew they were making the same promise to their unborn child. (For a brief moment, they regretted deciding to wait until the birth to find out what they're having.)

That would not be how they go. They would be as good as the best parent, and better than the bad.

--

Song Nine: We Are by Big Time Rush

When the teenagers graduated from the Palm Woods school, there were celebrations all round. Kaelyn and Logan had put in the hard yards to make sure that everyone got to pass and graduate with their friends.

And the graduation party was much better organised than the school dance they had put together at the last minute during their first year in Los Angeles. Gustavo went all out for his dogs.

Kaelyn stood amongst the sea of graduates - cap and gown and a proud smile - watching Big Time Rush perform the song that had been chosen by the cohort. Apparently, there was only one song that was perfect for graduating teenagers.

It was We Are.

And it worked perfectly for them.

--

Song Ten (the author breathes a sigh in relief at finally having made it here): Crash and Burn by Savage Garden

Kaelyn sniffled as she buried her face into the pillow. She and Neil were never meant to be. They were too different. Some would say their relationship was doomed from the start.

But that didn't ease the pain of dealing with her first heartbreak any easier.

"Bunny?"

Kaelyn lifted her tear-stained face from the pillow when she heard the nickname she loved so much. The nickname only one person used on her.

She saw James standing there.

She chose to ignore the scraped knuckles and the bruises on his body. She chose to ignore what she knew James had done to Neil. She did not want to deal with that right now.

She just needed her best friend. She needed to crash and burn.

And James sensed that. He laid down on the bed next to her (above the covers, for the sake of everyone's sanity) and opened his arms to Kaelyn. She immediately nestled herself into his chest, her tears staining the fabric.

He promised her several things. She deserved better than Neil (anybody who tried to force a woman into doing anything she didn't want to made James' blood boil). She would find better (he didn't say that better was right there waiting for her).

Instead, he stayed true to a silent promise he had made to her.

If she crashed and burned, she would never be alone.

[k-from-that-one-fic]

My birthday is on Friday (June 30th), and then Canada Day + HKSAR Establishment Day, and then Sunday, then my cousin's birthday, then US Independence day, and then my friend's birthday on July 21st, but we usually celebrate Canada Day with dinner together as like a joint birthday thing. (It's funny because we're American.)

also! I had a dream three nights ago and literally all I remember from it is that Kendall had a ponytail, and dang, it has reappeared in one dream and several daydreams since then. It was just Kendall, but like someone had photoshopped a ponytail behind his head. I can't shake it.

Maybe there was something about spies?? Idk my dreams are always super random but BTR has made more appearances in them recently than any media I've ever been into in my entire life, it's absolutely wild how fast it attached itself to my brain.

[navybrat817]

hi navy!!! I might be too late, but I was hoping to send in a request for ficlet Friday with Bucky Barnes and the prompt "shoulders hunched over a chopping board, carefully dissecting fruit to deliver it to you in a bowl" and maybe avenger!bucky x avenger!reader if possible??

Thank you so much!!! <333

Hi, nonnie! I hope you like where I took this.

Better Tomorrow

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You get a small injury on a mission and it's part of the job, but Bucky still hates it.

Word Count: Over 950

Warnings: Established relationship, small injury, touch of angst, comfort, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You were careful to keep your breathing even when you got up from the couch. If Bucky heard you hiss or groan in pain, he’d rush to your side and demand to know why you got up. He’d also put you right back where you were sitting and remind you not to move. It was sweet when you thought about it and you adored that he wanted to coddle you for a bit, but there was no need.

A bullet grazed your arm on a mission earlier, a superficial wound. It wasn’t the first time that a mission ended with an injury nor was it a big deal. Deep down you felt that it didn’t make a difference to Bucky how artificial the wound was because you still got hurt. For a second you thought he’d kill the man who shot you, but he held back. And by holding back that bad guy would be spending some time in the hospital before he went to jail.

Tiptoeing toward the kitchen in the hopes that your boyfriend’s heightened hearing wouldn’t detect you, you froze when you spotted him behind the island. His hair down, wearing a white tank top, his shoulders hunched over as he carefully cut up pieces of fruit. The sight put a smile on your face and made your heart turn over.

Bucky was an Avenger. Both of you were. But this? Seeing your man in a domestic environment? It reminded you just how human you both were, that you could be vulnerable beneath the strength.

“You’re not resting,” he said, his eyes flickering to yours. He either heard you or he was that attuned to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been resting and I’m fine,” you smiled. He had already given you something for the pain, your favorite blanket and a book, and you could only sit for so long. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to continue the task with a look of indifference, but you knew better. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that wasn’t fair.

“You’re not, Bucky,” you gently spoke, taking a step forward.

“No, I’m not. Because you got hurt and I couldn’t stop it,” he confessed, letting out a breath and confirming what you thought. It was nothing more than a whisper, but it felt like he screamed it from the depths of his soul.

Your heart broke for him. He took the blame into himself when it wasn’t his fault, punished himself for crimes he didn’t commit. You wouldn’t let him do that tonight. Not when he was a hero and your loving partner.

“We’re Avengers, Bucky. We help people. We may get hurt along the way and it’s a risk we take, but it isn’t your fault if one of us does,” you told him, seeing a swirl of emotions in his blue eyes. “The guy who chose to shoot at me is the one to blame, not you.”

“So why do I feel so terrible?” he whispered.

“Because you love me and you don’t want me in pain. Maybe you even thought for a moment that you’d lose me,” you answered, your heart contracting when he flinched. You understood that fear all too well when it came to him. “But I’m here and I’m okay.”

Bucky set the knife down and flexed his fingers, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he rounded the island to get to you. You moved forward on instinct and met him halfway so he could pull you into his arms. You fisted a hand in his tank top and wanted to burrow your face in his broad chest, your heart beating faster as you breathed each other in. He was safe, and so were you.

“I can’t lose you, baby. I can’t,” he said, his voice tight, careful not to squeeze your arm when he tightened his hold. He would never ask you to stop being an Avenger since he was out there doing the same thing, but injuries reminded him of the tough parts about being a hero.

“You won’t,” you said. You were both strong, capable. If you left the world tomorrow, you’d still be with him because your heart was his. You wouldn’t lose him either.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, and finally your lips. It’s so soft yet so passionate that you couldn’t stop the tears from burning behind your eyelids.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, blinking the mist away. “Now will you come and rest with me? Maybe I’ll let you feed me that bowl of fruit.”

“You’d let me do that?” he smiled a little.

“I would,” you smiled back, gasping when he lifted you off your feet and was once again careful not to do anything to your arm. “Show off,” you teased, hanging on with your good arm.

“Just a little,” he said. Picking you up was no sweat to a super soldier. “Thank you,” he added in a whisper. Taking care of you was going to comfort him as much as it comforted you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered back.

You had a feeling that Bucky wouldn’t sleep well tonight. He’d be too busy watching over you and making sure you were okay. If he did sleep there was a chance he’d have nightmares over the gunshot or a past injury. But in the morning he’d feel better knowing that you were really home with him, that you were okay, and that he didn’t lose you.

And if he really wanted to coddle and dote on you a bit longer, you wouldn’t stop him.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lexirosewrites]

Ficlet idea, designer Eddie and model Steve

OH NO OMFG this prompt was from a year and a half ago (September 2023) because i apparently wrote this whole thing and then accidentally lost it in my drafts😭😭😭 might as well post it now!

A New Muse

Eddie can’t say how he went from the Indiana trailer park to having his own collection at New York Fashion Week without explaining that things like that don’t usually happen to people like him.

Maybe it was the luck of being born an alpha. Or maybe it was just stupid fate.

Who knows? Certainly not him.

And although he’s been used to the lifestyle of excess and glamor for a while now, sometimes the world he lives in now still manages to amaze him.

All it took was a lucky break and his work being seen by the right people. Then he’d been whisked away to riches and fame, his name becoming known by every young adult in a matter of months.

Suffice to say that by this point, Eddie wasn’t overly surprised when he was asked to do a feature piece in a big time magazine. The editor had specifically requested for him to design a few grunge menswear outfits to be modeled alongside the article about his rise to success.

Eddie spent weeks grueling over his designs, making sure all his pieces were representative of the kind of work he does, but it was a struggle to create something that he was proud of and that would explain his vision of fashion.

The interview itself was simple enough, just a handful of questions by someone who already knew far too much about his life. They skirted around his less than pretty past and played up the rags to riches aspect that everyone loved to oversell when it comes to alphas.

And then came the photoshoot.

Eddie had been given measurements of an up-and-coming model who would be showcasing all of the designs. Supposedly, the guy was fine modeling both masculine and feminine clothing, so Eddie was able to keep his sizing consistent across the board.

The only mistake was that he was never given a photo of the model. Or told that he was an omega.

He had no clue that the model would be the most stunning man he’s ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Stevie,” the angle introduced himself with a dimpled smile and wide eyes. His scent dripping with sugary sweetness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Eddie almost forgets to shake his hand, too enamored with the beautiful omega being presented to him on a platter. He recovers enough to slip his hand into the waiting one.

“I’m an alpha.”

That’s definitely not what he meant to say.

Steve chuckles, a soft charming little thing.

“Good to know. Do you have a name, alpha?”

Eddie’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. He might be drooling. He’s definitely lightheaded.

The omega called him alpha. He could be his alpha.

“Um, I’m so sorry! Eddie! It’s Eddie!” he spits out in a rush, attempting to recover from his temporary lapse in sanity.

Another angelic noise of amusement.

“You’re sweet, Eddie,” Steve tells him, sounding slightly forlorn about it. “But I can’t date a coworker.”

Eddie can practically feel his ears pin back against his head in disappointment like a kicked puppy.

“Oh. Right, yeah, no that makes sense. Smart idea. Gotta be careful when you’re a professional.” His voice is thin and unconvincing.

Being rejected by a perfect angel hurts more than he thought it would.

Steve’s perfectly plump lips turn upward slowly.

“But if you find me after the shoot when we’re not coworkers anymore, you can buy me coffee. That is… if you let go of my hand so I can do my job first.”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie had never let go of his hand.

He loosens his grip long enough for Steve to make it through the shoot and then he vows to never let go again.

They’re mated a year later, right before Steve changes his modeling demographic to maternity photoshoots instead.

And Eddie finds his lifelong muse.

[skibasyndrome]

hey simon! what is your wilmon doing today (wille´s birthday)?

HI ANON!!! thank you for giving me the chance to write a small little birthday ficlet for our beloved Wille after all, ily for sending me this ask <3 Hopefully this can spark some birthday joy for you and anyone else reading along <3

Happy birthday Wille, we love youuuu!!! 💜💜💜

On the morning of his 21st birthday, Wille wakes up to the sound of heavy rain hitting the bedroom window. His arm is stretched out across a cool, empty space of the mattress, and for a few long, sleep-addled seconds, he doesn’t quite know how to process that information. Once he’s blinked a few times, yawned once, feels sufficiently settled into his awakeness, he slides over onto Simon’s side of the bed. In lieu of a good-morning-nuzzle, he buries his face in the indent Simon left on the pillow and takes a deep breath.

Not even half as good, as nudging his nose into Simon’s sleep-mused curls, but it’ll have to do. With his face still comfortably sunken into fluff and orange-patchouli and Simon, Wille tries to listen. The rush of the downpour is drowning out most other apartment noise he’s gotten used to over these past three years, but he tries to make out if there’s a shower running down the hall from the bedroom, or anything else. To no avail. Simon didn’t say he’d skip his classes today, Wille just sort of assumed, and he groans into the pillow when he realizes that, maybe, he should’ve asked after all. Just to clarify that maybe he does want Simon to wake him up when he leaves. For a birthday kiss, maybe. So Wille doesn’t have to wait until the afternoon and send a few too many clingy text posts. Rolling back over and stretching to reach his phone, Wille is already imagining Simon rolling his eyes at him later, just a touch of truth in his teasing remarks about co-dependency. A sudden clatter, loud even above the pelting of raindrops against glass, makes Wille jump, phone in hand. With the initial startle over, the noise vaguely identified as coming from the kitchen, he lets out a pleased little noise. Oh. He quickly kicks off the blanket, reaches under the edge of the bed with his foot to retrieve and slide into his slippers. As he pads his way out through the door and along the hallway, towards the closed off door of their kitchen, he desperately tries to school his features into something less intense than a wide grin. The attempt is quickly abandoned when he carefully lets the door swing open and finds Simon standing at the counter, bowl and whisk in hand, his back turned towards the doorway. A pair of shorts is slung low on his hips, his foot tapping away to a rhythm that, yeah, okay, must be coming from the earphones that Wille only sees once he’s able to avert his eyes from Simon’s back. Just as he’s about to take a step back, deciding that the chances of startling Simon are too big, it’s already too late. Simon turns his way and jumps.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Simon raises a batter-splattered hand to his chest, letting out an aggravated breath. “Don’t do that,” he warns, raising the whisk in accusation, and Wille finds it in him to apologetically raise his arms. “Sorry,” he repeats when Simon deposits the earphones on the counter. Wille tries very hard not to let his slow brain settle on Simon’s body again. Not now. Not when Simon is making breakfast that looks suspiciously like- “Nuh uh,” Simon takes a step forward, spreading his arms to cover the part of the counter where Wille thinks he’s just seen their waffle iron. “You shouldn’t even be up right now,” he continues. Even while he’s still trying to sound stern, the corners of his mouth are turning upwards. “You should be sleeping peacefully, for, like, another half an hour.” Wille only shrugs. His eyes dart over toward the sink, where he can see another dirty bowl. There’s a forgotten line of batter slowly drying on the door of their kitchen cabinet.  Wille doesn’t need to say anything for Simon to let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, fine,” he says. “You win, my fault.” He steps to the side, holds out his hand for Wille to grab and come closer. Wille doesn’t waste a single second to wrap an arm around Simon’s middle, all warm and soft and firm where Wille rubs his fingers over his protruding hip bone. Wille’s stealing back that moment of pulling Simon closer that he didn’t get to have after waking up today. And Simon melts right into it. Possibly smearing waffle batter against the skin of Wille’s back. In Wille’s book, that’s a win. Another reason to argue for a joint shower later. Before Wille has a chance to get a whiff full of his boyfriend’s neck, Simon is moving them towards the counter, motioning for Wille to let his eyes roam over an assortment of haphazardly closed flour and sugar and baking powder containers, blueberries, chocolate chips, two candles, a bright blue one and a two. “Look, you’re turning twelve,” Simon says with a nudge of his nose against Wille’s cheek. He lets out a sharp loud yelp when Wille digs his fingertips into his ribs in retaliation. “Makes you eleven,” Wille grumbles. Simon’s giggle, bright and nasal and face all scrunched up, makes Wille want to drag him down the hallway and back into the bedroom. The waffles can wait, Wille can’t, plus it’s his birthday. But before he’s got a chance to make a move, Simon is sliding a hand up the side of his neck, then back into his hair. “Happy birthday, Wille,” he says, earnest suddenly, and so quiet that the rainstorm almost drowns it out. But Wille doesn’t really need to hear him when he leans down for his birthday kiss.

[anjalikestodraw]

Sun drenched sofa days (2025)

inspired by and set directly after Love is a Witch - Chapter 6 by @beauttifullife

And as usual here is a tiny ficlet going along with the art. Enjoy :)

“So what do we want?” Rio mused aimlessly scrolling through the food delivery app.

They were lying on the couch Rio’s head resting comfortably on Agatha’s chest their legs entangled, Agatha’s hand absentmindedly running through Rio’s hair while watching a documentary.

“You choose.” Agatha responded not taking her eyes off the TV.

“No, I can’t decide.” Rio replied yawning.

She held her phone higher slightly blocking Agatha’s view of the TV screen.

“Help.” Rio demanded as Agatha tried to continue watching the programme past the other woman’s hand. “I am tired from my late night flight and I have no idea what I want.”

Finally peeling her eyes away from the programme, Agatha glanced at the phone and quickly scrolled to one of their usual delivery places jabbing her finger at the screen.

“This one’s always good. And you always say how much you love their dim sum stuff.” She explained her attention already back on the TV.

With a slow “Mhhh.” Rio brought the phone back down to her eye level and skimmed the menu.

“Or we can get tacos,” Agatha added clearly sensing Rio’s indecision. “I just thought you’d have had some good ones back home. Also the Chinese doesn’t deliver to yours, so…”

“Chinese it is.” Rio concluded after a moment.

She quickly picked her usual order from the menu adding some new dumplings she wanted to try and then scrolled to Agatha’s favourites.

“Your usual?” Rio asked slightly stretching her neck to try and look up at Agatha.

“Yeah,” Agatha replied her eyes still on the TV. Then with a sudden movement she looked down at Rio and added “Don’t order too much.”

“Never.” Rio replied smirking and sticking her tongue out before adding more items to the basket and checking for the estimated delivery time.

Agatha huffed knowing that they somehow always ended up with food for four. She returned her attention to the TV her hand automatically finding its way into Rio’s hair again.

Leaning into Agatha’s touch Rio thought how much she loved days like these. Weekends without plans, without pressing appointments or errands to run. Days filled with sunlight filtering through the big apartment windows but no need to be outside in the noise and hubbub of New York. Days spent tangled up with Agatha and them just being them. And she never had thought that this was what she would ever want but now that she had it she couldn’t imagine a life without it. Without her. Feeling Agatha’s fingers lightly scrape over her scalp Rio closed her eyes sighing gently.

She thought back to the stress of the day before, the frantic search for an earlier flight, the rush to the airport when she had finally managed to change her booking, and the half-hearted apologies to her extended family. The only person she had been sad to leave so early was her abuelita. But something in the old woman’s smile as she kissed Rio’s hand wishing her save travels told Rio that she knew how much Agatha meant to her, how different this situation was to any of her previous flings or short lived girlfriends. Her abuelita understood. And yes, coming back after a mere three days apart had seemed pathetic. But having this extra time with Agatha had absolutely been worth all the stress and extra money she had spent.

Letting out a contended sigh Rio inched closer into Agatha’s side, draping her leg over Agatha’s and lifting her head up just enough so she could fully see her lover’s face. Looking at the woman’s profile her gaze swept from her beautiful messy hair flowing in waves around her face, over her perfect nose and lips to her sharp blue eyes so intently watching the programme they had put on. And of course the sweater; her old worn out Texas Longhorn hoodie, which Agatha was still wearing.

“Riooo?” Agatha asked drawing out her name, while her eyes remained trained on the TV a faint smile playing around her lips.

“Nothing.” Rio replied still quite obviously staring at Agatha.

Agatha raised her eyebrows and stole a glance at her before looking back at the TV.

“I was just thinking…” Rio added smiling softly. “…how much I love this.”

“I love Chinese food, too.” Agatha replied a little too quickly still staring straight ahead.

But Rio knew better. She knew all too well that Agatha was only feigning ignorance and had fully understood Rio’s meaning. She knew this was simply how Agatha was, always masking her feelings with humour, deflecting, struggling to put into words what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. And Rio had gotten used to it, she even had started to love this little quirk of hers. She didn’t just love Agatha despite of who and how she was, she loved her because of it, with all her little bumps and edges. And even if she hadn’t been fully fluent in 'Agatha', the broad smile on her lover’s face was a dead giveaway. Biting her lip and shaking her head slightly Rio let out a low chuckle.

“Food will be here in forty.” She said tossing her phone onto the couch before resting her head back onto Agatha’s chest.

“Good.” Agatha replied pulling Rio closer to herself and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Smiling at the gentle gesture Rio reached for Agatha’s hand entwining their fingers and shuffling into the other woman’s body. Having found a comfortable position she finally returned her attention back to the TV.

“I love this, too.” Agatha whispered after a while, her thumb tracing circles on Rio’s hand.

Feeling a familiar warmth spread in her chest Rio raised Agatha’s hand to her mouth kissing the back of it.

“I know.” Rio replied quietly and she could feel Agatha’s hand squeezing hers lightly.

“You know what I would love even more though?” Rio mused a sudden thought entering her mind. “When the delivery guy comes I think you should get the door - seeing as you are wearing your new favourite sweater.”

Lifting her head up again to see Agatha’s reaction Rio put on her signature smirk.

“Your favourite sweater.” Agatha corrected her, turning to face Rio her eyes narrowed.

“You are the one wearing it.” Rio pointed out with a shrug feigning innocence.

Taking in her lover’s frown Rio’s grin widened thinking of another tease. But before she could add anything else Agatha’s hand grabbed one of the sofa cushions and shoved it into Rio’s face.

“Hey!” Rio protested her voice muffled by the pillow as she fell backwards into the couch.

Propping herself back up she put one hand on either side of Agatha’s face locking her in.

“Not cool.” Rio said trying to look angry but her features betrayed her as she was smiling down at Agatha.

“I might still burn it.” Agatha teased with a wink.

“Oh... you wouldn’t dare.” Rio replied sticking her tongue in her cheek.

Agatha only raised an eyebrow in response a mischievous look on her face. With one smooth movement she grabbed Rio’s waist and tossed her to the side planting one knee on either side of Rio’s hips reversing their positions. Triumphantly she looked down at Rio with a cocky smile.

“You’re impossible.” Rio huffed but she couldn’t stifle a laugh.

Reaching up Rio grabbed the front of the orange hoodie gently pulling Agatha down.

“I still think you should get the door later.” Rio whispered one hand wandering into Agatha’s hair while her gaze flitted down to her lover’s lips.

“Over my dead body.” Agatha growled without any real bite to her voice before closing the distance between them. Her hands snaked behind Rio’s neck pulling her closer into a long passionate kiss forgetting all about the documentary still running on the TV, their food order, or for a fact, the world around them.

[emeraldserenade]

It's Been 5 Years ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Adjusting to life after you had just disappeared with half of the living population took some time, but Joaquín seemed to be very helpful

tw: fem!reader, limited use of y/n, reader speaks Spanish, bad Spanish (idk Spanish, I use google translate), none?, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

So I hit page 10 out of 34 on the upcoming story. But I still want to keep up my at least one post a day schedule, so have this. This idea has been running it's way through my head and it didn't come out how I wanted it to but I still think it's good.

➽──────────────❥

Joaquín was in his relatively new apartment, he had been there for a few months, when the people who had just disappeared reappeared. It was jarring, especially for the two of you.

"Um, hello?" You were confused, one moment you were holding your cat and walking around your apartment getting ready to leave and the next, your cat was gone and everything looked different.

"Holy shit," the man jumped up from the couch and you took a step back. "Wait, I'm not going to hurt you, let me explain," he held his hands up.

"Uh, ok?" You wrapped your arms around your middle, trying to sooth yourself.

"5 years ago this alien named Thanos made half the living population disappear," the man stated and you slowly nodded, you realized almost right away you must have been apart of those that disappeared.

"So, it's been 5 years?" You questioned, you watched as he nodded. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to my cat, would you?" You took a chance.

"Actually, I would. The neighbor, Ms. Kaur, took your cat in. She told me all about how you would be heartbroken to know that your cat was all alone," the man told you and you felt a rush of relief.

"Uh," you paused for a moment and looked around. "Can I ask you a few favors? Nothing big, I promise," you assured him.

"Yeah, go ahead," you watched as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, firstly, can I know your name?"

"Oh," he uncrossed his arms and held his right one out to you. "Joaquín Torres," you shook his hand and gave him your name.

"Also, can I borrow your phone?"

"Yeah, let me grab it," he moved to the kitchen. "I don't know if you need the bathroom but you can go use it," he called from the kitchen you and nodded even though he couldn't see you.

"Oh, thank you!" You called from your way down the hallway and to the extra bathroom. You figured he didn't want you in your, his, bedroom. When you came back he was sitting on the couch again and you hesitantly walked closer.

"You don't have to stand," he told you and handed you his, unlocked, phone.

"Thanks," you awkwardly sat down a little bit away from him and punched in one of the numbers you knew by heart.

One ring, two rings, three rings, then finally someone picked up. "Hola?" You almost sobbed hearing the voice of your father

"Hola, papá," you heard your own voice wobble but it was nothing compared to the full sob of your mother's you could hear.

"Y/n, de verdad eres tú?" Your father questioned. Is that really you?

"Sí, lo es. ¿Alguien más desapareció?" Yes, it is. Did anyone else disappear?

"No, solo eras tú. Ay, tu madre y yo nos alegramos mucho de que hayas vuelto. Por favor, ven a visitarnos pronto," your father told you and you nodded. No, it was just you. Oh, your mother and I are so happy you're back. Please, come visit us soon

"Lo haré, solo necesito aclarar algunas cosas. ¿De acuerdo?" I will, I just need to figure some things out. Ok?

"Ok, te amamos," your father told you. Ok, we love you

"Yo también te amo," you hung up the phone and handed it back to Joaquín. I love you too.

"I uh," you awkwardly looked at Joaquín. "I should probably see if I can find a hotel," you went to stand but Joaquín's words stopped you.

"Or you can stay here, I mean, it technically was, is, your apartment. There's the extra room anyway," Joaquín offered and you looked down at yourself. You suddenly felt grateful that you were about to leave, you had your purse and some of your favorite clothes of your on.

"If you're sure because I can totally go and get a hotel room," Joaquín cut you off.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Plus, I have a feeling finding a hotel room will be extra hard tonight," Joaquín joked and you laughed.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You had been staying with Joaquín for a few weeks now, you had settled into the guest bedroom and found out that not only did Ms. Kaur save Sushi, but she also saved all your belongings. The furniture, other than the standing mirror your grandmother gave you and the nice hanging jewelry holder you thrifted, got sold. You weren't too upset, you had all your clothes and things anyway.

You were sitting on the couch on hold with the bank while watching Joaquín play some video game. You found out a few days ago that they froze all your cards when you were offically declared dusted. While you appreciate them worrying about your finances, it was a pain in the ass to get unfrozen.

"Miss, are you still there?" Asked the female voice you'd been talking to a few moments ago.

"Yes, I am!" You sat up straighter and the raised volume of your voice caused Joaquín to look over at you.

"We have unfrozen all your accounts, sorry for taking so long," the woman told you and you smiled in relief.

"Ok, thank you!" You hung up after goodbyes and did a small happy dance. "Dios mío, I thought that was going to go on forever," you flopped back against the couch and focused your attention back on the screen.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Joaquín, are you even helping me look for apartments?" You looked up from your computer screen at Joaquín, his laptop was open but he was hitting his keyboard more than he would if he was looking.

"If I lie and say yes, would you believe me?" Joaquín questioned and you sighed.

"You act like you want me to stay here," you closed your laptop and moved to sit on the couch next to him, he was on the Minecraft world you two had started. "You said you wouldn't build without me!" You gasped, he was building more of the house you two had started together.

"I got bored, forgive me, Angel," he gave you his puppy eyes and you stared him down, already knowing that he had won.

"Fine, I forgive you," you huffed.

"Good, and I do want you to stay here," he added on and you looked at him weirdly as he saved and exited the game.

"Why?"

"I like you," he said it so casually that you had to remind yourself that he meant as a friend, and that he didn't reciprocate your crush.

"Careful, you might give me the wrong impression," you joked, trying to hide the truth in your words.

"Which would be?" Joaquín looked at you with, what you thought was, genuine curiosity and you mentally kicked yourself.

"Nothing, doesn't matter," you told him, getting up to leave. He grabbed your hand and pulled you back onto the couch before you even took a step causing you to fall with more backwards momentum you were accounting for, and landing with your back pressed into his chest. You just relaxed into his hold, knowing that if he really wanted to you wouldn't be able to move.

Joaquín said nothing as you two sat there, you didn't say anything either. You just sat there in comfortable quiet, you slowly started to drift off and right before you fully succumbed to you heard Joaquín lowly mumble in your ear, but you couldn't quite figure it out.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

It didn't take long until you gave up apartment hunting, the landlord from your building was also very nice. She let you and Joaquín add your name to the lease without much of a hassle.

"Joaquín, you do have plans?" You saw he was dressed nicely.

"Yeah," he told you and you suddenly felt very stupid for even asking. "With you, go get ready, please," he looked away from the mirror where he was messing with his hair to look you in the eyes.

"Me? Where? Why?"

"You ask too many questions Angel, just go," he gave you a smile and you relented.

You two ended up going to dinner, a movie, then to ice cream. You were confused on why he was until he took you back home.

"I like you, a lot, and," you cut Joaquín off with a hug and a quick kiss.

"I like you too," you told him, watching as any of his nerves disappeared.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Prom Kings - Mickames

I blame @partiallypearl for bringing BTR and by proxy James Diamond back to my dash which finally gave me the push to post this. After doing a BTR binge with Riley and Rhuben during covid, I ended up doing a rewrite series for BTR eps/scenes/plots that included my OCs, the Masons. Unsurprisingly, most of them were about James and Mickey so I had a place to explore their relationship within canon. This "rewrite" version of Big Time Prom Kings, which is really just a scene addition, was one of the first ones I wrote. Enjoy!

-----

James slid the tiara out his hair and let it fall to the cloth covered table in an unceremonious matter. Some would say unladylike. He’d punch them for that.

Stupid Logan and his stupid plans! He was supposed to be the smart one, but this was one of his worst ideas ever! He had Prom King in his grasp! He was so close. And then it all blew up in his face.

Lips pulling down into a pout, James let his eyes wander around the sparsely decorated ballroom. Only a few hours ago it had been decked out in a moonlit night theme with twinkle lights, a large crescent moon displayed behind the DJ table, deep purple and pink sheer fabrics draping off the walls, and pink and white flower arrangements decorating each table. It was supposed to be the perfect night! And yet all he had to show for it was a tiara—not a crown!—aching feet, and his name on a restraining order. Potentially. He made a mental note to get Kelly to help him out of that one. Logan had done enough.

Speaking of Logan, James wasn’t sure how things seemed to work out for him. He still won Prom King. He still wore the tux he came in with. He still was in good standing with Camille, judging by the way they smiled at each other as they spoke by the door, hovering along with other prom goers. Guitar Dude had said something about an after-prom party, bowling was a suggestion, but James wasn’t exactly eager to rush out with them. Not dressed like this. The color of Camille’s dress complimented him well and he blew the girls out of the water hands down, obviously, but it was a dress. People might have already seen him in it and witnessed his and Logan’s stupid spotlight dance but that was as far as he’d like the night to go. So he sat in his chair, waiting for everyone to leave before joining Kendall and Carlos back in the crib to hopefully forget this terrible night.

All he wanted was for it to be perfect.

Why was it so hard?

A peal of identical laughter grabbed James’ attention. He spotted Jazz and Mel by the balloon arc at the door. They clutched half-inflated balloons, stretching their necks a few times. With identical grins, they lifted the neck to their mouths and inhaled, deflating the balloon. They said something to one another and burst into another round of high-pitched laughter. Sammi walked up a few minutes later, eyebrow cocking, silencing Mel and Jazz right away. She took a balloon from them, sucked in a little bit, and burst into song with a shoulder shimmy, making them laugh again. He managed a smile at the sight. That should’ve been him and his friends, laughing and having a good time. Not fighting over the Prom King crown (which was rightfully his!)

“Are you done with that?” Sucking in a sharp breath, James forced himself to look up at Mickey’s face. She hovered over him, pointing towards the piece of cake sitting in front of him. Like her sisters and aunt Kelly, she was dressed in a pressed white dress shirt and black slacks. Her dreadlocks had been woven into an impressive side fishtail and her bright blue sequined bowtie glittered beneath the lights.

“Yeah, I’m good,” James said with a wave of his hand. As if his night hadn’t been bad enough: making a girl cry, being threatened, and having to wear a dress. But dancing in the spotlight with Logan and having Mickey watch took it over the edge. Was this what humiliation felt like? That twist in his stomach, the shame creeping down his spine, the unease blasting heat to his cheeks? His nose wrinkled. Ugh. He never wanted to do this again.

A moment later chair legs scraped against the ground. Mickey hummed as she carefully sat down, gripping the front edge of the chair to pull herself forward. Once close to the table, she extended her hand to him; he spotted two forks clutched in her palm. The blue sparkle polish on her nails, chipped and cracked at the tips, matched her bowtie. Dish soap and cleaning chemicals were harsh on nails.

“I thought you were going to take it.” James took the fork from her and split the cake down the middle and pushed the plate closer to her. She speared the tip of one half of cake and popped it into her mouth. His lips twitched at the light shinning in her eyes and the little wiggle to her shoulders as she chewed.

“I was but you look like you need it.” Mickey propped her chin up on her palm. “Besides, we have plenty of leftovers from other tables.”

“You’re taking it home?” He wouldn’t blame them if they did. He was sure Mickey spent a lot of time and effort in preparing the food and portioning it out for a lot of people. And it tasted amazing; well, the small bites of it he had when he didn’t try to get Aubrey away from her bodyguards or talked with Logan or hid in the bathroom stall for his safety.

“Some we’ll take home but the rest we’re bringin’ to the soup kitchen once we’re done here.” She motioned around to the empty room. Kelly and Sammi walked around from table to table pushing a large garbage bin, tossing in napkins and plastic cups and utensils. Gustavo stood nearby, hood pulled over his head, shoving a large piece of cake into his mouth as he watched. “Well, if Uncle Gustavo doesn’t eat it all first.”

James ate another piece of cake as Jazz and Mel hurried by, bags clutched in their hands. The camera she’d manned all night sat tucked beneath Mel’s arm, still attached to the stand. Jazz’s DJ headphones bounced and wobbled around her neck. “Might want to keep an eye on him,” he said. His eyes narrowed at Gustavo, memories of him laid out on their couch, eating all their dinosaur nuggets coming to mind.

“Figured you would’ve been riding off into the sunset in your horse-drawn carriage by now,” she commented. His eyes dropped into a half-hearted glare and a teasing smile popped onto her face.

“Ha ha,” he mumbled. He reached up and smoothed down his hair as best he could. The hairspray Camille had doused him with made the little lifts and spikes stick straight up. A hurricane couldn’t knock his hair over which, on a normal day, was the goal. Uttering a sigh, he dropped his arm, letting his hand flop into his lap. “Horses aren’t my thing.”

“So…what happened with this?” With her fork, she motioned to him from head to toe, moving in a large oblong shape.

James scratched behind his ear. “Well, I wanted to win Prom King. Logan wanted to help me win Prom King”—Mickey made a face”—so Camille and Steve wouldn’t”—Mickey slowly nodded her head—"and he said I’d get it if I went with the hottest girl.” He lifted the constantly falling strap to the dress back up his shoulder. “To match me, of course.”

“Of course.” Her eyes briefly rolled up to the ceiling and she shook her head. Taking another piece of cake onto her fork, she held it up to her mouth to ask, “So you picked Aubrey Stewart?” and ate it, licking a smear of chocolate off the back.

“Well, yeah, but that’s only because I couldn’t ask you.”

Her chewing stilled and she nailed him with a look. Her eyebrows crinkled and something flashed through her eyes only to be gone in the space of a blink. “Huh…?”

“Yeah,” James said, nodding, as if it were obvious, “I was going to ask you, but Kelly said you guys were already working the prom.”

She blinked again, sat up straight, and slowly set her fork down. “And you didn’t ask anyway?” Her question came out slow, as if stepping on uneven ground.

James shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d say yes. And I know you dream of opening a catering business one day. Figured Prom would be good practice; I can’t step in front of you achieving your dream. Not when I get to live mine.” She slowly nodded her head, a faraway look settling in her eye. She sucked in a breath, muttered about needing to get back to work, and stood. She pushed in the chair, a plume of something delicious and sweet radiated off her skin. James cleared his throat. “Hey Mickey?” She stopped walking a few feet away, spinning in a smooth circle on her heel. The words lodged in his throat for a second. God, he needed to get out of this dress, it was doing strange things to him. “Would you if I asked you? Have said yes, I mean?”

Her mouth twisted to the side and she tugged at the end of her fishtail braid. Then her head cocked to the side, her mouth eased, and her shoulders raised and dipped in a small shrug. “…Ask me again next year and we’ll see.” A spike of pure giddiness shot through James, making him sit up straighter. She suppressed a smile. “Hurry up and go before your carriage turns back into a pumpkin, Your Majesty.”

James stuck out his tongue, making her laugh and hurry away to her beckoning sisters.

He’d never live this night down.

...But it didn’t end up so bad.

[raging-violets]

What BTR show plots/subplots would you like to see a Jacksons version of?

@happinessismagicc @ceruleanmusings @partiallypearl @witchofinterest

[dearly-somber]

tomorrows with you | m.jh

-> pairing. ex-idol!myung jaehyun x female!reader

-> genre. dystopian/post-apocalyptic!au, angst, fluff, s2f2l, (mutual) pining, eventual romance, suggestive near the end

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 5369

-> warnings. gun-violence (esp. at the start of the fic), injury (non-gruesome/ life threatening); very vague worldbuilding; non-idol!Jungkook has been used as a stand-in for Jaehyun’s older brother <3

-> a/n. So, yeah. This fic’s working title was “dystopian!au w/ m.jh”, and then I suddenly got a title idea 🤡. Also, this fic was partially inspired by Civil War (2023). Decent movie, though I’d give a hard tw for anyone with war or gun-related PTSD. Please watch at your discretion <3

-> bnd ficlets, oneshots and series m.list

-> started. May 31st, 2024 @ 20:49

-> fin. Sun., Oct. 13th, 2024 @ 22:06

-> edited. Mon., Oct. 14th, 2024 @ 17:59

-> divider credit. @fairytopea, @saradika-graphics

You dash breathlessly into the large company building, your shoes squeaking against the tile as you hurriedly push through the heavy glass door.

Your chest heaves as you clumsily jump ID-regulated turning-gates, yelping as your knees buckle when another poorly aimed shot whizzes past your shoulder.

You don’t stop to face your pursuers, amping up your speed and making a mad dash for the elevator at the end of the hallway.

You scream at another shot, this time more from the pain of the bullet grazing your shoulder than fear (though that’s a pretty big factor, too).

Skidding to a stop in the elevator, you aggressively mash the Close Doors button, falling to the floor and sobbing with relief when it finally closes and the thumping of bullets against metal momentarily guarantees your safety.

You press a random floor number, trying to gather yourself and push to your feet despite how wobbly your legs feel. You aren’t looking forward to the shoulder-pain waiting for you once the adrenaline wears off…

The elevator doors ding open and you waste no time jogging down the long and winding hallways, the carpeted floors muting the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of your sneakers.

You push the door at the end of the hall open just as you hear men’s voices yelling orders back whence you came, a wave of anxious sweat cascading down your hairline.

You try to quiet your gasping breaths as you shut the door behind you, rushing to get your sneakers off and in your hands so your footsteps on the polished wooden floors don’t alert anyone.

The mirrors are everywhere.

You try hard not to look at yourself—the tangled, frizzy hair and mad look in your eyes is too much for you to handle right now.

Your heart-rate picks up as you begin hyperventilating, the sound of doors being slammed open heightening your senses tenfold—

You turn to the door hidden around the side of the room before the person behind it has it fully open.

His eyes are wide and fearful, shaky hands raised in front of him at the equally afraid look on your face.

Despite the bite of fear in your chest, your first thought is puppy.

The door to the practice room slams open and your muscles tense all over. Right as the guy carrying the gun raises his weapon to shoot at you—

You throw both of your shoes at him as hard as you can, using all your strength to launch yourself at the boy, letting him grab your hand and run with you at full speed through what you think might be a dressing room.

He leads you confidently through doors and down hallways, never once stopping to look behind him, an iron grip on your hand.

You wonder if he used to work here and hope you’ll live long enough to ask.

He stops so abruptly you slam headfirst into his back; hard enough for him to grunt and stumble forward.

The men ahead of you turn and immediately raise their weapons to shoot—

Your body moves for you and you yank the boy out of the way just as a shot is fired. Your pulse is deafening in your ears as he course-corrects and leads you down a different hall. Panting as the two of you come up on a metal door with a fire-escape sign flashing dimly above it, the boy hurriedly pushes it open and pulls you into the stairwell before shutting the door behind him.

You’re sweating in places you didn’t know you could sweat, and the brief glance you get at the boy’s face before he’s dragging you determinedly down the stairs tells you he’s not faring much better.

“I can’t—” you wheeze, trying to pull away from him as you lean against the railings, tears prickling your eyes and legs shaking with every step you take.

“You can,” the boy pants, tugging you along.

“I can’t—”

“Shut up!” he yells, his grip on your wrist tightening as he shoulders open a different metal door.

You’re wheezing with every step, blood rushing to your head.

Before he can fully turn the corner, a shower of bullets goes flying into the wall, spraying plaster all over the carpets.

“We found ‘em!”

“Go, go, go!” The boy shoves you ahead of him, the two of you running at full speed. You stumble over your feet and he grabs your hand to pull you into another practice room, this one much larger than the first:

Much larger, completely empty, and with nowhere to run.

“This is a dead end—!” you yell, frantically trying to yank your arm out of his iron-grip—if you can get out fast enough you can leave before they catch up—

“Shh,” he quiets you hurriedly as he pushes at a piece of wall that miraculously parts into what you belatedly realize is a hidden closet.

He rushes inside and pulls you in so forcefully you feel an ache in your shoulder, pummeling into his chest and trying to recover from all the running as he flips the panel back and you’re plummeted into darkness.

Your breathing feels heavy and ragged as the two of you stand chest to chest in the small space, your hands shaking as you wait for the group of men to find you.

You try desperately to breathe through your nose as the stranger’s heart beats against your cheek, his chest heaving as he huffs breaths in through his mouth.

Afraid that you might be heard, you reach up to press his mouth shut and tap the side of his nose, shaking your head with a look you hope he understands. Surprisingly, he does, his breath no longer hammering down against the top of your head as he forces himself to breathe through his nose.

The door to the practice room smacks open and the two of you tangibly jump against one another, your shoulders tensing in anticipation.

“Rats,” a male voice hisses. “You fuckers are terrible shots for letting her get away like that.”

“Not our fault the girl moves like a fucking rabbit,” someone else snaps, the sound of his gun shifting against his back sending a shiver down your spine. “Fucking zig-zagging all over the fucking place.”

“Yeah, well, now she’s been picked up by someone who knows his way around. We could’ve gotten her so easy if you’d just aimed—”

Your knees knock together at the men’s conversation, taking another step toward the boy to press the two of you right up against the back of the closet in an effort to distance yourself from the people on the other side of the wall.

The boy’s hands wrap firmly around your forearms (to hold you still or hold you up, you can’t tell).

“Yah!” A deeper voice than before calls. “Stop fucking around and forget the girl. If we catch the guy, he can tell us where the valuables are.”

Your eyes widen fearfully, on the verge of an anxiety attack when you’re caught off guard by the boy in the closet shoving his face into your shoulder (you have to bite on your tongue at the shot of pain that ricochets down your arm), holding you against his chest like his life depends on it.

You try to push him away by his shoulders but come to a standstill when you feel the heat of his tears against your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers desperately against your shirt, his voice right by your ear.

Too afraid to soothe him verbally, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and squeeze.

“Forget it,” the first voice says, the sound of his gun making you hold onto your companion tighter. “They’re not here, Gunwook. Let’s go.”

“He’s right,” the second says. “We need to keep moving.”

Gunwook lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

You keep your arms tight around the boy as you listen for their retreating footsteps, unable to comfortably relax without being certain that it’s not some sick trick meant to lure you out of hiding.

It feels like hours before the two of you finally leave the closet, loud sighs of relief exiting your lungs when you realize that you’ve survived.

You look across the room at the boy who risked his life to save yours, his eyes glossy with a fresh set of tears…

… and it takes less than a second for you to start crying.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Jaehyun-ah!”

“어?“

“C’mere!”

You’re browsing through the racks of one of the many Everland memorabilia stores, your last stop in the city before you and Jaehyun start the long drive into the countryside.

“What is it?” Jaehyun asks, his boba eyes sparkling curiously. His hair’s gotten a lot longer since you first met: it blankets and curls around the back of his neck in fluffy tufts which make his eyes seem bigger and more puppy-like.

You break into a smile as you take the puppy-ear band from the shelf to stick it atop his head, giggling fondly when you pull back to look at him.

“What,” he deadpans, a small smile pulling defiantly at the corner of his lips. “You think it’s funny?“

You giggle, bowing with the weight of your joy. The faux fur atop his head is nearly the exact same color as his hair. “It looks good!”

He shakes his head with a fond smile, reaching up to take them off but stopping when you whine and hold his wrist.

“Don’t,” you pout.

He makes a move to pull them off again, but you tug his wrist back with another over-exaggerated whine.

He gives in, dropping his hand with a fond but defeated smile. His eyes scan the rack for more headbands and sparkle a little when he spots a certain pair in particular.

He takes it off the rack and places it delicately on your head, tenderly positioning the ears so one is slightly bent before he pulls away with a satisfied smile, petting your hair. “Bunny.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head at him as he continues to faff with your hair before eventually letting his hand hang by his side.

“Are you ready to go?”

You look around: plushies lay dirtied and torn on the floor with entire shelves fallen over, glass jars previously filled with sweets strewn broken and empty around the looted tills.

“Yeah.” You choose to focus on Jaehyun’s face rather than the chaos around you. “I’m ready.”

It’s a much nicer sight.

He nods, holding his hand out for you to take before walking with you to where you left the car in a small spot of shade near the entrance.

You let go of Jaehyun’s hand to jog around to the passenger side as he climbs into the driver’s seat, starting the car as you buckle in, briefly turning around to double check that your bags are still sitting nice and snug on the backseats.

Assured that you haven’t lost your limited stash of supplies, you turn back around with a grunt, crossing your arms and leaning back to stare out the window as Jaehyun takes off.

“You don’t need the bathroom, right?”

“No,” you say. “I’ll be fine for the next while, I think.”

He nods, taking one hand off the wheel to reach into the center console. You watch curiously as he pulls out a black case of some sort, holding it out to you with his eyes still fixated on the road.

“What’s this?” you ask, turning it around in your hands and unzipping it while sitting straighter in your chair.

“CDs.”

You look at him with bright eyes. “Really?!”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I found it in one of the drawers in that house we looted last night.”

“And you’re only telling me now?” you gasp, laughing and good-naturedly touching his arm when he shakes his head at you.

“A lot of them were pretty badly scratched,” he explains.

He takes his eyes off the road to make eye contact with you. “I didn’t wanna mention it and then not be able to play it.”

You stare at each other for a moment before he clears his throat again and turns his attention back to the road; always trying to put on a tough act despite being the sweetest person you know.

You smile softly and poke his cheek in thanks, flipping through the CDs until you find the perfect one.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Let’s stop here for the night,” Jaehyun says, apologizing under his breath for accidentally frightening you as he turns into a different lane.

You sit up straighter, trying to calm your startled heart as you stretch your arms and legs.

As Jaehyun pulls into the taxi lane on the side of the road, you notice his eyes drooping and how it takes him longer than usual to park the car.

“You must be exhausted,” you mumble.

Jaehyun pulls on the handbrake, leaning back against his seat with closed eyes and a sigh. “It’s fine.”

“We should’ve rotated.”

“It’s fine, Y/N.”

You sigh, slowly leaning back in your seat. You look out your window at the yellow-orange sky, feeling weirdly nostalgic for the time before.

“Why were you in the building that day?”

“Hm?”

You face Jaehyun expectantly.

He’s adjusted his seat so he’s lying down, his eyes closed and likely on the verge of sleep.

You stare at his side profile since you can’t stare at his eyes, waiting for a response. “The building, on the day we met. Why were you there?”

For a while he says nothing, but eventually he speaks.

“I worked there.”

“Doing what?”

He scoffs, the corner of his lips rising in a half-smile you haven’t seen since you left Everland. “I was an idol.”

“What?!” You sit up straight in your seat, your jaw hanging loose from its hinges.

“Yeah,” he laughs, still with his eyes closed.

You grin. “Were you famous?”

Jaehyun snorts, slowly opening his eyes to give you the full effect of the humored smile on his face. “No, I don’t think so. We were still rookies when the world went to shit.”

“Oh,” you pause… “We?”

Jaehyun’s eyes seem to lose their light almost as quickly as you managed to flick them on, dimming and dimming until they’re back to the defeated muddy-brown you’re used to.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispers, staring at a spot past your shoulder with a veiled look.

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and heaves a sigh, laying back down with his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest.

“We should get some sleep,” he says.

You nod even though he can’t see, turning onto your side.

But, even after you’ve settled in and settled down, you find yourself struggling to fall asleep. Now that no one is talking and the engine is off, you’re starting to hear a light buzz in your ears, every snap of a twig or rustle of a branch making your heart race.

It’s too quiet without any of the sounds you’ve gotten used to. No sounds of people leaving home to work the night shift, no sounds of dogs barking at police-sirens three blocks away… only the sound of your slow breathing and the wind howling outside your partially open window.

You breathe a shaky sigh and turn your back to the door, ignoring the uncomfortable tug in your stomach at leaving yourself so exposed.

Your eyes are well-adjusted to the dark, so you easily make out Jaehyun’s silhouette. You shuffle closer and release a nervous breath.

“Jaehyun—?”

He wakes with a surprised whine, groaning when he sees it’s just you. He stretches his legs and arches his back off the seat with his eyes half-closed. “Y/N…?”

“Sorry.“ You bite your lip and play with your fingers. “I just… I… can’t sleep.”

Jaehyun stares at you, blinking slowly as he wakes up. You can’t make out what he’s thinking, so you sit in the silence while you wait for him to… to what?

What were you expecting?

You watch dazedly as he suddenly jacks his seat further back, leaning back and holding his palm out to you over the center console.

“Here,” he says.

You look at his hand, then his face, then his hand again.

“Just take it.”

Slowly you take his hand, naturally following his (mostly) non-verbal instructions as he guides you across the center console and into his lap, your legs astride his hips and your hands curled up against his sides.

He tucks your head under his chin. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, aware of each rise and fall of his rib cage as he inhales and exhales against the top of your head.

“Good?” he asks, clasping his hands high enough around the small of your back to be considered respectful, but low enough for it to feel decidedly intimate.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, wondering if your breath against his neck makes his heart beat as fast as his breath against your hair does.

“Thank you,” you whisper, warm all over and already succumbing to sleep.

Jaehyun says nothing. Instead, he presses his lips to the crown of your head, whispering something into your hair you can’t make out, and you fall asleep to the sound of rhythmic breathing and the soft pitter-patter of his heart against yours.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“You know how to jump a fence?” Jaehyun asks skeptically.

“Sure.” You shrug. “How hard can it be?”

Hard enough for you to roll your ankle, apparently.

Jaehyun is crouched in front of you, gently cradling your throbbing ankle in his hands as he shares a concerned look with you from behind his bangs.

You smile through your pain and reach out to touch his hands. “It’s not too bad,” you lie, even though the furrow in his brow tells you he doesn’t buy it. “C’mon, help me up.”

Jaehyun bites his lip as he contemplates, heaving a sigh before he stands and lifts you up. He wraps your arm around his shoulders and his around your waist, patiently guiding you to the grocery store.

How he managed to jump the fence without suffering your same fate remains a mystery.

“Earth to Y/N?”

“Huh?”

Jaehyun laughs as he sets you down by the register, fondly shaking his head and grabbing a basket from the front of the store. “I’m gonna grab some stuff and see if they have anything we can wrap around your foot.”

“Let me help.”

“You’re injured.”

“Jaehyun,” you whine.

“Y/N.” He gives you a deadpan look. “You can’t hop around the store. Just… wait here, okay? I won’t be long.”

You pout and cross your arms like a child, reluctantly huffing your agreement. His sympathetic shoulder-touch is enough of a consolation for you not to bitch and moan about it, even though you don’t stop pouting.

You watch from the register as Jaehyun moves through the different aisles, wandering from shelf-to-shelf with a concentrated furrow in his brow.

It’s almost… domestic.

You wonder what coming to the store with him would have been like before the country went to shit, easily slipping into your world-before daydream.

You’d have arrived in his car, probably wearing matching shirts—he seemed like the kind of guy to want to do that, you think. You would’ve walked through the doors holding hands, bowing at the cashier with dopey smiles on your faces... You’d probably argue about which piece of meat you’d want to buy for the upcoming family barbecue, and then, after agreeing to a game of Rock Paper Scissors, Jaehyun would pout and whine when he lost…

“Look what I found!”

You jump, loudly clearing your throat as Jaehyun approaches again holding a thick roll of bandaid in his free hand. He sets a blue basket down and crouches in front of you.

“What were you daydreaming about?” he asks conversationally, gently removing your sock (and apologizing under his breath when you wince away,) so he can start wrapping your foot.

“Nothing,” you deflect a little too quickly, nervously avoiding his gaze when he tries to meet your eyes. “I was just spacing out.”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, totally not believing you.

You clear your throat. “You found a lot of stuff.”

“Yeah.” Jaehyun briefly glances at the nearly overflowing basket beside him as he finishes up your foot-wrap, groaning a little when he stands. “It might be because we’re so far away from the city. Maybe the people here weren’t as worried about supplies as the rest of us.” He grabs the basket and hoists you up by the waist.

“Maybe,” you agree, hopping along as fast as you can, occasionally taking breaks to lean against Jaehyun until you finally make it back to the car.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” you ask as you buckle in. “I feel like we’ve been driving for years.”

“It’s a little late to ask that now,” he laughs, setting the basket next to and on top of the rest of the supplies you’ve collected in the trunk of the car. “But, yeah, I’m sure. My grandma used to live out this way.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah.” There’s a moment of silence. “We came out once every three or four weeks, I think. She died my freshman year of high school.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching over the center console to squeeze his hand.

Jaehyun shakes his head. When you try to move away, he holds your hand in his lap.

“How about you?” he asks as he clears his throat. “Did you have any family outside the city?”

“Not… really?”

He frowns. “How do you mean?”

“Well,” you start, “my parents are divorced, so I moved to the city with my dad while my mom stayed out in the countryside with her family. I didn’t really see them much, and when I did it wasn’t super pleasant.”

“Ah…” This time Jaehyun squeezes your hand, his thumb rubbing light circles against your knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It is what it is. I don’t even know if any of them are still alive,” you laugh bleakly.

Jaehyun smiles sadly, but says nothing else.

You sigh, leaning back against the chair with closed eyes. “Wake me up when we get there?”

“‘Course.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s been a crazy couple of hours.

When you got to Jaehyun’s gran’s house (you hadn’t even considered that was where he was taking you), you were met with his family.

His mom, his dad, his older brother… they were all there. You’d watched the reunion mostly from inside the car because Jae’s parents had come out of the house as he was coming around to help you, so you had no idea what words had been exchanged.

They’d all wrapped around each other and when Jaehyun remembered you were still in the car (you’d opened the car door and started maneuvering yourself outside), he jogged to you, his face red and tears still flowing down his cheeks in waves.

“Jaehyun…”

He cried harder at your soft tone, and you pushed yourself to standing so you could wrap a hand around the back of his neck, guiding his head to your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you against his chest as he sniffled and cried. You petted his hair and whispered assurances into his shoulder, telling him that it was okay and they were all safe and you’re finally together again.

“Y/N, darling, is something wrong?”

You snap out of your thoughts, hurriedly bringing the spoonful of chicken soup to your lips to appease the questioning eyes suddenly trained on you.

“The food is great, Mrs. Myung, thank you.” You smile as you bring another spoonful to your lips. Jaehyun is sitting next to you, his smile slowly returning to his face as he looks lovingly at all his family members spread out across the dining room table.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Mrs. Myung waves off, a smile on her face. “I’m just glad you’re finally getting some proper food in you. I can’t believe you guys have been living off of canned beans and raw noodles for the last… god knows how long!” She shook her head with an exaggerated shiver, very motherly, and you laughed awkwardly to dispel the strange tension in your shoulders.

“We’ve been doing our best with what we have,” Jaehyun says, gently so as not to accidentally hurt his mother’s feelings, though you wonder how much he’s told them about your situation. Do they even know how you guys met?

“So,” Jungkook starts. You straighten your back and sit with your hands in your lap, nervously swallowing down your soup. Jaehyun’s older brother is almost nothing like him. He’s tall, has a full sleeve of tattoos, several piercings and hasn’t exactly been the most welcoming presence since their reunion earlier that evening.

“How did you two meet?”

So Jaehyun hadn’t told them everything.

“Oh, uh…” Jaehyun searches your face, probably hesitant to talk about something neither of you had really spoken about since it’s happening. Especially considering the… less-than-ideal circumstances.

You clear your throat. Despite not really wanting to relive any of that, you do want Jaehyun’s family to like you. So you put on what you hope is a friendly smile and tell them about what happened.

“I was being chased by a rogue group,” you say simply, ignoring Jungkook’s sympathetic frown and the widened eyes on his parents’ face. “I don’t know what they were going to do with me, but I ran into Jaehyun’s old company building and he found me and helped me escape.”

“That’s terrible…” Jaehyun’s mom sympathizes, reaching across the table to squeeze her son’s hand. He squeezes it back before pulling away.

“It’s over now.” Jaehyun says, smiling softly at you and reaching under the table to hold your hand.

“What happened to the boys?” Jungkook asks with a concerned frown. “Were you separated?”

Jaehyun’s grip on your hand tightens, his face paling so suddenly you can’t help but worry he’s about to pass out.

Jaehyun swallows and shakes his head.

“Jaehyun—”

He pushes up from the chair hard enough the legs screech against the floors, effectively cutting Jungkook off. “Thank you for the food, Eomma, but Y/N and I should probably get to bed. We’ve had a long day.”

“Jaehyun,” his dad says gently.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

You push out of your chair and fall into Jaehyun’s side, his arm around your shoulder and yours around his waist as he helps you hobble towards what you assume must be the guest bedroom.

You say nothing as he sets you on the side of the bed to remove your socks for you, glossy-eyed and frowning.

You bite your lip nervously, hesitant to say anything that might make him even more upset than he already is, but you have a feeling if you don’t say anything at all, things might turn out even worse, so you clear your throat and start off small.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” you ask, watching him walk around to the other side of the bed.

“Here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah.” Jaehyun hesitantly sits on the edge of the bed, searching your face for signs of discomfort. “Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No—I mean, I don’t mind.” You pray he can’t tell how flustered this conversation makes you. “I just… I guess I assumed you’d go to the room with your brother.”

“I don’t…” Jaehyun sighs, raking his fingers through his hair as he sits back against the headboard, your legs touching. “I can’t deal with him right now.”

You bite your lip. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Jaehyun looks at you for a bit before shaking his head. “I don’t know. I missed them, of course I did, and I couldn’t be happier that they’re all alive and well and here.”

You carefully cross your legs and turn so your whole body is facing him. “But…?”

He follows suit and turns to face you, grabbing your hands so he can play with your fingers. “But… I just… I can’t deal with it all right now. The whiplash of them being alive, of us being reunited when…”

He inhales sharply, holding your hands a little tighter. “When they’re— they’re not here—”

Jaehyun breaks down, bowing his head as his shoulders shake with tears. Your heart aches for him as you maneuver yourself in a way that lets you get closer to him without putting your ankle at risk, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him close.

You pat his back as he cries into your shoulder, eventually pulling away to hold his face and wipe his tears away with your thumbs.

“We got— got separated and they, I don’t know how it happened but they got— got cornered and I didn’t do anything because I— I was frozen and I didn’t do anything and now— and now they’re all dead—”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is!” he sobs, his breath stuttering in his chest as he grips your wrists, holding your hands against his cheeks like they’re his lifeline. “I could’ve done something, I might’ve saved them if only I’d done something—”

“Jaehyun, look at me.”

He makes a noise of a wounded animal, and your heart clenches uncomfortably in your chest as you wipe your thumbs under his eyes. “You couldn’t have saved them in the state you were in. The only thing that would’ve happened is you would’ve died with them—”

“That would’ve been better than this—”

“No. Don’t say that.” You exhale shakily, annoyed at yourself for getting emotional when you’re trying so hard to be strong for him. “If you were dead what would have happened to me, Jaehyun? You wouldn’t have reunited with your family. Don’t say that.”

He whines again, shaking his head. “I just… I miss them,” he sobs, “I miss them so— so much and I wish they could’ve b-been here to meet— to meet you. Woonhakie” — he gasps like he’s out of breath— “Woonhakie would’ve loved you,” he wails, curling in on himself.

You hush him again, fighting back your own tears as you bring him back to your chest. You let him cry it out as you rub comforting circles on his back…

•••

You don’t know how long you both sit there, but when it’s done you’re emotionally exhausted and your foot is aching.

You and Jaehyun lay curled up against each other, closer than you’ve ever been before. Your heart pounds against your chest at the proximity, and you find yourself falling more in love with his scent every time you inhale against his neck.

“Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Those things I said.” He swallows, his thumbs drawing pictures against your shoulders. “I’m glad I got to save you. I—“

“I know,” you assure him quietly, feeling your head get heavier. “They were like family to you. It’s a lot to deal with.”

“Still. I don’t want you to think I regret living.”

You can’t tell if it’s the closeness or mental exhaustion of the last month catching up on you, but whatever it is it gives you enough confidence to turn your head and kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Jaehyun. I’m glad we stayed alive long enough to know each other.”

He tenses up ever so slightly before nuzzling deeper into your shoulder. “Me too…

“And Y/N?”

“Mm?” you mumble, eyes already closed.

“I think I love you,” he whispers. “I know it’s sudden and maybe it’s not the right time, but I— I’ve actually felt this way for a while but I didn’t want to ruin everything or scare you off, or—“

“Jaehyun-ah.”

He swallows hard. “Mm?”

“I love you too. Now try to get some sleep, will you? Tomorrow’s going to be a really long day.”

Jaehyun stills as he takes in what you said, and then he turns his face into your neck and shakily inhales, holding you tighter than ever before.

“Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“I can’t wait to spend my tomorrows with you.”

[finniestoncrane]

Howdy Sheriff Finnie! 🤠

First off, CONGRATULATIONS ON 3K🎉🥳 very much deserved!

Secondly, rumor has it ‘round these parts Captain Boomerang(ssktjl🙏🏻) has been know for bribery and back alley dealings. His wanted status? Dead or alive.

Here’s to hopin’ we catch this sonnuvabitch!

(Seriously hoping this hasn’t been claimed yet🤭😖😩)

Captain Boomerang x GN!Reader, ficlet a/n: thank you friend!! i'm so excited to indulge in our shared insanity over george lmao and to be honest, what would an interaction with him be without some praise?? main event post • event masterlist • tag: finnie3k • main masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: praise kink, lil bit of body worshipping, mutual praise this is a love fest all around, and of course his cock is inside you the whole time so... nsfw

"Wait... Wait... wait wait wait wait wait... Say that again."

George's fingers were buried deep in the flesh of your thighs as he tried to get you to stop moving. Your body was slow to respond at first, still wrapped up in the fog of fucked him, of riding his cock, straddling his waist with your palms against his chest for support. But eventually you came to a stop when you noticed his counter-movements of frantic pumping interspersed with groping your body, had come to a halt of their own.

"What? Say what again?"

"The- The thing! What you just said! I moved my hips a little like you asked so you could feel me a bit deeper, and then you said..."

You racked your brain, playing over the past few moments, although everything admittedly was a bit of a blur since George had pushed himself up to the hilt inside of you, long and thick enough that you imagined he do some serious damage with just a little bit of effort on his part. Your vision had blackened around the edges, muscles tightening and stretching, blood rushing loudly in your ears as he filled you.

"Oh! Ooooh."

With a soft smile, you leaned over him, placing your hands on either side of his face, feeling his facial hair against your palms as you held him tight.

"Good boy?"

His eyes closed and he leaned his head back slightly, exposing his neck, slender and tattooed, tendons tensing as he strained in pleasure.

"You are a good boy, Digs. You're my good boy."

"F-fuck."

Still completely still, not wanting to disturb this moment he seemed to need so badly, you continued.

"You're amazing, George. Hot, strong, funny, and super smart."

His cock twitched against your walls with each word, a surge of pleasure coursing through you each time it moved.

"I'm so lucky that I get to have your attention, and so lucky to have your big, thick, impressive cock buried all the way-"

"Oh-oh shit!"

No friction needed, it seemed, your words had been enough to send him ove the edge, the warmth of his seed spilling into you and trickling out as he shifted slightly in response to his surprise orgasm.

"Sorry, love, I just-"

With a smile, you eased towards him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, clammy from the exertion and the reddening blush that covered most of his freckled face.

"Don't be. I think you needed that. I'll keep it in mind. You deserve all the praise I can give you."

With no regard for the mess you both had made, you slid off of him with a soft moan, laying down beside him with your arms around his torso. His own arms were wrapping around you too, pulling you into a tight side hug as he sighed contentedly.

"Well, aren't you just the best fucking thing since fairy bread, eh?"

In response to your laughter, he pinched your side playfully, smiling at the giggle you let out.

"I'm serious. I'm good, we've established that. But you? You're perfect."

[thehypnone]

Give me the weird silicone noise fic I’m begging!!!

I couldn't help myself and not write it right away... well, here's the original idea and one and two additional ones that I took and weaved together and turned into this little ficlet. I recall @sphylor @kroas-adtam @revengeghoulette @moldycantaloupe and @jazz-bazz being particularly interested in this, hence the tags. no nose riding itself in here, but I do hope you enjoy

edit: I remembered this ficlet from a while ago, y'all can treat it as a loose continuation of this one

Dewdrop didn’t even dare hope he would get away with it. Nothing stays a secret in the ghouls’ den and certainly nothing related to sex.

It’s his own fault, really.

For months he used to rely on his imagination alone, fucking his own fingers or a toy in and out of his cunt as he thought about it. After a while he caved in and made his purchase, probably the stupidest thing he’s ever bought.

But it worked well enough and so for another few weeks he took care of his sinful thoughts by riding a fucking silicone nose. Not the weirdest fantasy he’s heard of or indulged in, but every single time he takes that thing out from his toy box, shame burns through his core.

He used to fall to temptation only where he was absolutely sure no one would interrupt him; the main rule was Rain being out of the den. One unfortunate time, though, Dewdrop is sure he’s being teased on purpose.

For some mysterious reason, Rain decided to wear his helmet and balaclava to the rehearsal, without painting his nose black. Of course, why would he, but why would he wear his gear in the first place, if not to condemn the fire ghoul to two hours of walking around with a pool of slick in his underwear?

Still, Dewdrop doubts he knows. The real mistake was him getting down to business right after the rehearsal. He was in such a rush he didn’t even care to lock his door.

He regrets his carelessness immensely as Rain stares him down with comical disbelief in his eyes and a growing smirk.

“It’s not what it looks like–” the poor fire ghoul pants, not moving off of his toy. He’s both trying to hide it and for his pleasure not to end. Lucifer only knows how big of a slut Dewdrop is for some humiliation.

“Is it now?” Rain scoffs. The look in his eyes, the way he stands there, his voice��Dewdrop knows what version of his mate he’s getting and, frankly, he’s as terrified as he’s excited. “Seems to me like you’ve been grinding your pretty cunt against a fake nose. Moaning and whimpering my name, all the while.”

“I–I’m–”

“Oh, shut it,” the water ghoul chuckles, waving an elegant hand in the air; a mimicry of one of his favorite stunts when they play live. He approaches to stand right over the impossibly flustered Dewdrop and looks down at him, his expression an image of condescension. The fire ghoul can’t bear it; he hangs his head and curls in on himself. If he manages a little roll of his hips against the thing he’s still sitting on…well, that’s for him to know and for Rain to laugh about. “Pathetic.”

It’s hard not to agree.

Rain gets on the bed and makes himself comfortable against the headboard, with his arms folded under his head. He doesn’t speak or move for a while and it’s only Dewdrop’s desperation that breaks the silence.

“Rainy, please, I just–”

“Just what, you whore?” the water ghoul growls and Dewdrop curls in on himself even more. “Such a slut you can’t help but sexualize even the least sexual pieces of me, are you not?”

The fire ghoul doesn’t answer.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, I–I do. I am,” Dewdrop stammers out. He can’t see him—staring pointedly at a mole on his thigh—but Rain’s cruel smile grows.

“Move,” he orders. Dewdrop couldn’t disobey under his heavy stare even if he wanted to. He lifts his hips and scoots backwards, leaving the silicone nose laying soaked between his thighs. “Give it to me.”

The fire ghoul cries out in shame before lifting it with a shaky hand and extending it for his mate to grab.

“Disgusting,” Rain scoffs as slick covers his palm. He shakes his head before throwing that wretched piece of silicone across the room. They’ll worry about it later. “You should’ve come to me. Asked for the real thing.”

Finally, Dewdrop lifts his head with a confused and terrified look.

“Yeah, I would’ve let you,” the water ghoul admits, “I love you so much, you know I would do anything for you.”

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”

“No, you didn’t,” Rain sighs as he finally shifts. He scoots down to lay down more than sit. “Now you’ll have to show me what it is that you’ve really been up to.”

“Oh…oh no, Rainy, I won’t–”

“Yes, you will. Come here,” he orders and Dewdrop lets out a dry sob as he crawls over. Rain digs his long fingers into his pale thighs and manhandles the fire ghoul to straddle him.

He shakes the entire time and can’t help a wanton moan that rips itself out of him when Rain scrunches his nose at him.

“Come on, baby,” he grins from in between Dewdrop’s legs, “take a seat.”

[shares-a-vest]

Happy MET Gala Day. I wrote some tags on THIS post and instantly got brainworms. cw: In this ficlet, Eddie calls Steve a slut but it is said with affection.

"Steve!" Eddie screams over his shoulder into the next room. But his voice only echoes around him, bouncing off the pristine white walls of the hotel room ensuite that he thinks is as big as his uncle's old trailer, "The car is gonna be here any minute!"

Silence.

He smoothes his hands down his lapel one last time and smiles at his reflection before he turns on his heel and rushes into the hotel suite where he finds Steve right where he left him, in a make-up chair getting all dolled up by Chrissy with Robin by his side.

She is asleep in a bedazzled bathrobe and honestly, Eddie would prefer to join her. Not only is attending the MET Gala an expensive evening (Eddie loathes to think how much money Steve has spent in the lead-up to all this), but it all involves being gawked at and judged and repeatedly asked the same three questions by the press who are just going to make him come off like a real asshole anyway.

"Just getting glam done," Steve says, grimacing as Robin gives a grunting snore.

"Stop eating those flowers, Erica..." she mumbles, dipping her head and nuzzling into the plushy warmth of her collar.

Chrissy rolls her eyes and steps back to examine her handiwork.

Whatever that is, Eddie can't really tell. Steve looks just like his regular pretty self with maybe a spot of shimmering blush. He opens his eyes, fluttering his lashes and – well yeah, whatever Chrissy did makes his eyes pop more than usual.

But those eyes quickly grow dark, shadowed by a frown when Steve gives Eddie a once over.

"Is that your outfit?" he accuses.

Eddie nods and does a little twirl only to spin back around to the sight of Steve pursing his lips.

So much for pleasantly surprising each other with their outfits – the only thing that had Eddie giving this whole deal an ounce of his attention.

"Well it isn't on theme," he continues, shrugging with a nonchalance that would give Anna Wintour herself a run for her money.

"What are you talking about?" Eddie defends, "I'm wearing lace!"

He flaps his jacket to reveal a sheer black lace shirt before lifting his touser legs enough to show off his matching socks.

Steve pinches his nose.

"Eddie, that is a bare minimum!"

Eddie flails his hand in the direction of Steve's barely-there shirt, a sheer number that shows all of his chest hair.

"Excuse me for not dressing like a total slut."

He blushes as Steve stands up to reveal a similarly sheer pair of pants (if you could call them that). Underneath is nothing short of a goddamn codpiece that Eddie is certain won't cover his boyfriend's whole ass and –

Robin snorts again, causing Chrissy to giggle.

She nudges her partner and Robin startles awake, almost tipping back in her makeup chair and Eddie realises that 'doing glam' has taken so goddamn long, all because Buckley decided she needed the world's biggest feathery eyelashes.

"Boring!" she says, taking one bleary-eyed look (if she can see through those bird wings, that is) at Eddie's outfit.

She blows a raspberry for good measure.

Steve turns, chuckling and yep – that is at least half of his ass hanging out in some sort of lace-assless-chaps-codpiece situation that has no business being anywhere but on their marital bed – or a paid-for hotel equivalent.

Maybe they should just stay right here, Eddie thinks as he looks, his mouth agape as he ogles the sight before him.

"Calm down, Eddie," Chrissy warns with a wicked grin.

"Well, it's far too late now for us to do anything about it," Steve pouts, throwing on a floral-embroidered vest that at least covers a shred of his modesty, "I told you to come see my stylist."

"What about my brooch!" Eddie shrieks, pointing to the diamond-encrusted rose pin just above his breast pocket, "It's crystal."