#but my boss wasn’t budging and didn’t try to convince me to stay and i was just like.. fuck this

[fingertipsmp3]

Anyone else having an absolutely unhinged week or is that just me

[flurrys-creativity]

Lurking in the dark 4

Pairing: Park Jinyoung (GOT7) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Action, Assassin AU, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Humour, Angst; Rating: nsfw, 18+; Warnings: mentions of killing, worrying about death, an explosion, grumpy got7 in the morning, talking about killing someone, tension between the reader and Jinyoung, Jaebeom being hostile; Wordcount: 2.288

Summary: After witnessing the murder of your previous boss, you were forced to follow the assassin. Normally witnesses would have been killed but he decided against it, taking you to their hideout, a small guest house in the middle of nowhere. The assassin and the rest of his group were hiding more than you thought but you had to keep a huge secret for yourself as well.

Masterlist

Jinyoung stared at you without moving or reacting at all. Even his eyes didn’t move a bit, which would have been an indicator that he tried analysing you, but with him being like a living statue you had no clue. 

The longer he stared at you the more unnerving it became. Still, you refused to budge now. Refused to take your question back. You were sure you had the right guy. Right? A shimmer of worry flared up inside of you. What if you just revealed you had been spared by an assassin to the wrong person? You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. All while your breathing became more and more shallow. This wasn’t good.

“You know”, Jinyoung suddenly spoke up, a hint of a smirk playing over his lips, “it’s said that curiosity killed the cat.”

For a second everything stopped. Everything except your mind running miles an hour. How were you supposed to respond now? Did he finally admit he was the assassin you saw? Was he trying to tell you to keep your questions to yourself or otherwise you might die? Was he threatening you just now? You broke the intense eye contact and stared at the floor between you two, trying to regain some of your confidence.

“But satisfaction brought it back”, you mumbled, still staring down at the ground.

“If you have nine lives that is.”

“The saying doesn’t include the nine lives of a cat,” you argued and finally looked back up, new determination flashing up inside your eyes. “So tell me!”

Jinyoung shrugged with his shoulders. He tried everything to keep his composure in front of you. Everything you did, everything you said, all of it took him off guard. You simply kept surprising him. The minute he thought he had the upper hand over you, you proved him to be wrong with a simple change of your aura. “Something about you is odd.”

You hadn’t even noticed how tense you were in his presence but upon hearing his reasoning you quite literally deflated. “You think I’m strange?”

“Most definitely.” Jinyoung nodded slowly, as if he tried to convince himself this was the sole reason for him sparing your life. “I’ll keep my eyes on you until I know what’s the deal with you.”

You snickered and stood up, walking back to the furniture in front of the sliding door. “Oh please, don’t flatter me.” You smiled softly before you turned around and quickly returned to your own room, closing the door right behind you again.

You placed your hand over your rapidly beating heart, cursing yourself mentally that his words actually had a flattering effect on you. Especially since you knew how dangerous the attention of an assassin towards you could be. You needed to keep a low profile at all costs - not just in front of him but in front of the other residents as well. Your only hope was that Jinyoung would keep quiet about your true reason for coming here. Otherwise you wouldn’t stand a chance.

After a restless night where you shot up every time you heard a noise, you really dreaded getting up in the morning. You felt more confident last night when you met all the residents but with all this time thinking, worry gnawed at your insides.

You worried a lot about your stay at the Baby Bird and especially if you’d ever get out alive. One misstep could be enough for them to figure out who you were. Yet you couldn’t just stay in your room and avoid them at all costs with no money to pay.

A deep sigh escaped your mouth as you got up and walked over to your door, opening it with a trembling hand. You suppressed the shriek building inside your throat when you nearly bumped into someone standing in front of your room. Your wide eyes wandered up to the face of Youngjae.

“You’re up early.” His eyes quickly scanned your face. “Did you sleep alright?”

You tried to muster a smile as well. “It’s always a challenge to sleep at a new place. Though I’m also used to waking up early.”

Youngjae nodded shortly before he grinned. “As long as you think the inn is comfortable. Are you ready to work? We need to prepare breakfast for the rest.” He gave you a quick hand motion to follow him and started walking down the hallway without looking back again.

You hurriedly shut your door and rushed after Youngjae, taking more of the house and surroundings in as the break of dawn casted more light onto it.

The two large buildings you already saw last night as well as the connecting hallway basically hid away a small but beautiful garden. A small pond nested in the middle of the garden, a few frogs croaking their good mornings with the sun steadily rising and waking nature.

“The guests must love it to take a stroll through the garden.”

“Most guests only stay for a night and continue their travels after breakfast the next morning”, Youngjae answered you, looking longingly over the garden as well. “I had hoped that guests would use the verandas to relax and gaze upon the pond while doing so.”

“Have you ever tried to advertise your inn in the nearby towns? I’m sure some newlyweds would love to spend their honeymoons here.”

The minute you said these words a loud boom blasted through the peaceful morning ambience. 

You stopped in surprise, thankful you didn’t jump in fright, as you turned around and saw a dark cloud of smoke wafting into the air behind the back house.

Youngjae sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. “There are several reasons why one night guests might be better after all.”

You looked back at Youngjae, trying to stay as surprised and unknowingly as possible. Even though you thought it made sense that people shouldn’t stay too long around assassins. Though he didn’t need to know about your intel. “Is that normal?”

“Sadly, yes.” Youngjae continued his walk down towards the kitchen, making sure he would kick some ass later when you wouldn’t be around.

“What was that noise anyway?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“Shouldn’t I know about it? If it’s normal I assume it happens rather often and shouldn’t I be prepared whenever something doesn’t go as planned?” You followed Youngjae but glanced back to the dissipating black cloud every other step, wanting to investigate it further.

You had smelt the gunpowder on two guys last night but you never operated with it yourself and it made you curious.

In your own curiosity you didn’t notice your choice of words, nor the look Youngjae gave you.

“Bambam and Yugyeom are playing around. That’s it.”

“What are they playing with?”

Youngjae sighed again, his initial suspicion fading upon your almost naive questioning. “I’m sure you’re going to learn that soon enough. Since you’re going to help around, you’re most likely to meet and interact with the others around here. And as long as I have known those two, they are definitely willing to show off to a pretty woman. Anyway, we need to hurry now.”

“Why?” You nearly had to run after Youngjae with his fast pace, confused by the change in his calm demeanour.

“They’re a pain in the butt without a proper breakfast this early in the morning.”

“Who?”

“All of them, except Bambam and Yugyeom since they woke them up.”

As if to underline Youngjae’s words you heard some yelling and screeching coming from the complex behind you. “Oh wow.”

You picked up your pace and jogged after Youngjae, sliding into the kitchen soon after. While Youngjae rushed around the room and grabbed all kinds of things, you stood rather helplessly in the middle of it.

“I had hoped to introduce you to everything around here more calmly and with a lot more time at hand but this has to do for now.” Youngjae pulled you up to the stove, quickly showing you how to operate it before he placed bacon and eggs next to you. 

“If I don’t get some coffee into my system now, I’m going to kill someone!”

“We should just get rid of the firecrackers instead of someone random. I can’t stand them doing experiments in the middle of the night!”

“It’s the early morning, not the middle of the night.”

“Shut up Jackson! Don’t even try to be peaceful.”

You turned to the door, seeing two grumpy men and a giggling Jackson entering the kitchen. Your eyes immediately fell onto Jinyoung, who ran his hand through his hair in an annoyed manner.

“One morning of peace. That’s all I’m asking for.” Jinyoung sat down at the large table in the middle of the kitchen, resting his head on his hands. “And some coffee.”

The other two sat down as well, slumping down just as quickly as Jinyoung until Youngjae placed three cups of coffee on the table. 

“Where’s Jaebeom?”

“Dealing with the pests”, Mark grumbled and clutched his cup with two hands, inhaling the freshly brewed scent. “They interrupted his morning meditation.”

“As if that meditation would help him get less impatient”, Jackson giggled and sipped at his coffee before he placed it down on the table and pushed the cup away. “Can I do my shake instead?” He looked at Youngjae with large puppy eyes.

You caught the disgusted look on all their faces, wondering what it was about but quickly continued cooking. 

Soon enough you felt someone staring at you, making your skin prickle all over your back. You had a feeling who it was but refused to confirm it. Ever since the fluttering feeling from last night you wanted to avoid looking at him as much as possible.

Jinyoung had another idea though. As soon as his eyes landed on your form, his body basically moved on its own. He stood up with his cup of coffee and walked over to you, glancing over your shoulder. “Good morning, kitty.”

A shiver ran down your spine with his low voice and his breath tickling your ear. Even though your body reacted like that, you narrowed your eyes as you briefly glanced at him, showcasing his choice of greeting annoyed you. 

“Do you like your eggs boiled, fried or scrambled?”

Jinyoung chuckled and leaned against the counter next to the stove. “This almost sounds like a threat.”

“What sounds like a threat?” Jackson turned around to Jinyoung, finally realising you were in the kitchen as well. “Oh! Hey! Good morning!”

You turned around to Jackson and smiled at him brightly, greeting him as well. “I have no idea.” You glanced at Jinyoung before looking back at Jackson. “I only asked him how he likes his eggs.”

Jackson frowned and turned his attention towards Jinyoung. “How is that question a threat? It’s way more considerate if you ask me. Nobody ever asked how I like my eggs! I only ever got the finished dish placed in front of me without even asking me whether I like it or not!”

“If you want pity, you aren’t getting that here.”

“Just like getting asked for my preferences! I don’t get that here either! Mark! Help me out! Jinyoung is mean again!”

“Don’t drag me into this.”

Jackson immediately whined more, literally begging Mark to take his side. They continued to bicker around until Youngjae shut them up with a stern look.

You silently continued to cook the bacon and the eggs, trying to ignore Jinyoung’s presence lingering around you. Which proved to be harder than you thought.

He brushed against you whenever he walked past you, placed tools and dishes you needed next to you before you were even able to ask Youngjae for them and simply stayed next to you the whole time.

Even after Jaebeom dragged Bambam and Yugyeom into the kitchen and all of them sat down at the table, Jinyoung stayed next to you, watching silently what you were doing.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to focus on anything but Jinyoung. You nearly exhaled in relief when he sat down at the table as well after you placed the bacon and eggs on it.

“Thanks for the food!” 

You smiled, seeing how the younger ones immediately dove in and stacked dishes on their plates. It reminded you of little children eager to get the best candies.

“Aren’t you going to eat with us?” Yugyeom halted in his action and looked at you with big eyes, resulting in everyone turning towards you as well.

Youngjae, who already sat down at the end of the table, looked at you expectantly, indicating you were allowed to sit and eat with them.

Flustered, you came closer to the table and sat down on the empty seat between Jackson and Jinyoung. “Thank you.”

“Of course! We all eat together whenever we’re here! It’s boring to eat alone,” Jackson told you and immediately placed food on the plate in front of you. “Sometimes not all of us are here but that doesn’t mean the rest aren't eating together. So make sure to always show up whenever it’s time to eat and you’re at the Baby Bird.”

Jaebeom scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t treat her like she’s one of us. This woman is gone as soon as her situation settles.”

“With your attitude, yeah, definitely. How about showing some hospitality? We could become friends in the long run.”

“In our line of work there is no such thing as friends.”

Jackson gasped loudly and grabbed onto your hand involuntarily as he stared at Jaebeom with an open mouth. “Aren’t we friends?”

Chapter 3  < | >  Chapter 5

© all rights reserved

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[raibebe]

Simple Lessons

Genre: fluff Words: 3.200 Prompt: 90s grunge boy Jeno x female reader

Warnings: smoking, mentions of food

A/N: Literally no one asked for this but this just poured out of me the other day... EVERLONG JENO IS MY COMFORT CHARACTER OKAY??

Everlong masterlist

“Do you want to go out to grab lunch? You don’t have classes until later as well, right?” Your best friend asked as she dragged you out of the lecture hall. “Sure,” you smiled, basking in the rays of the sun for a while after being stuck inside an auditorium with barely any daylight for two hours straight. “There is this cute new diner a little off-campus and a little birdie told me there is this super hot guy working there,” she wiggled her eyebrows to which you could just groan loudly, making her giggle in return. Mimi had talked you up during orientation days and you two hadn’t seperated since. Sharing majors surely helped with that and soon you had found a small group of girls to call your friends. While she was very much the flirty, extrovert in your group, a crush on a different boy each day of the week, you couldn’t not be fond of her shenanigans when it made all of you laugh out loud whenever she told stories of yet another drastically failed date. “Not everyone can still be with their Highschool boyfriend like you,” she accused, slapping your arm before tugging you in the direction of the diner. “Are we really going to this diner just because someone told you that one of the waiters is hot?” “Listen. This was a very trustworthy source,” Mimi pouted, “I’ll pay for your meal, just come with me please.” “How can I say no to free food?” You laughed loudly, letting her pull you along while complaining about all the assignments your professors had given out.

You had to admit that the diner was really cute. It had this old-school look inside with the red, big sofas and a variety of license plates decorated the walls and the female servers even wore cute puffy skirts. “This is so pretty,” you said once Mimi had chosen a booth, the leather of the sofa squeaking while you sat down. “Yeah, yeah,” she waved it off, looking around the place, “Now where is this hot waiter?” “You’re hopeless,” you giggled, picking up the menu that was already laid out on the table to look at their food options instead of helping your friend. “Shut up,” she grumbled, copying your action, “You also still haven’t introduced us to your boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “He’s...” Well, what were you supposed to say now? If it were to go how you had wanted, your friends would have already met Jeno at the first party you were invited to but he had declined the offer, only sweetly kissing your head and promising to pick you up at 2 am from the adress you had given him. Which he had done but by that time everyone was so wasted that they couldn’t remember a thing. Which had become a reoccurring theme, no matter how much you’d bribe them to not drink to finally catch a glympse at him. “If you all would stop drinking yourself into a coma every time we go out, you’d have met him already.” “I am beginning to think you’ve made him up,” Mimi grinned, “He seems way too perfect. Letting you go out and party on your own and picking your drunk ass up after but then he never shows up to your classes to walk you to the next one.” Well just maybe you hadn’t gotten around to telling your friends that Jeno in fact wasn’t even studying but working different part-time jobs to help finance your apartment until he had figured out what he wanted to do in the first place. They had just assumed he was studying something way different than you hence why you wouldn’t meet up during your breaks. “Well he is real,” you sighed, “He’s just... Different?” “Oooooh, I get it,” your friend grinned, “He’s older than you. Oh my god. Do you have a sugar daddy?” At that you let out an embarrassed screech which made her double over with laughter. “Why would you say that?” You whined, “He’s the same age as us, for real.”

“Hi ladies, I see you’re already having a great time. I’ll be your waiter for today, have you already decided what to get?” A deep velvety voice interrupted. You didn’t need to look up to know who the waiter was or what he looked like because his voice was almost as familar to your ears as your own was and you knew his body inside and out. Smiling brightly, your eyes met Jeno’s who was also smiling, throwing you a little wink. You had known that he had been working in a diner for a little while now but not this specific one so it was a nice surprise to see him here clad in a neat button-down and pants that for once weren’t ripped to shreds. Meanwhile, Mimi was stunned in silence, her mouth parted in what must be awe. “Hi,” you kept smiling at Jeno, “Anything you can recommend?” “Our burgers are pretty good,” he shrugged, “But what’s really good are our milkshakes.” “Then we’ll take that, right?” You asked your friend, kicking her shin beneath the table to get her to snap out of it. “Y-yeah sure,” she stuttered, still blatantly gawking at Jeno. “Great, I’ll be right back with your drinks,” Jeno smiled before walking off again.

“Girl he’s so hot oh my god,” Mimi exclaimed as soon as he was out of earshot, dramatically flopping down onto the table. “He’s really good-looking,” you admitted, a big grin on your face. “Better than your boyfriend?” “I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed, awkwardly shuffling in your seat. Was this the right time to tell her that the waiter apparently a lot of girls were thirsting after was in fact your boyfriend and probably not at all like they thought him out to be? “God, I bet he looks so good out of his uniform as well,” she groaned, “Just the thought of him in light washed denim.” At that, you had to mask a burst of laughter with an awkward cough. You had tried times and times again to convince Jeno to swap out one of his dark jeans for light-washed ones but he wasn’t budging, only in turn challenging you to wear one of his many black baggy T-shirts instead of your brightly colored spaghetti tops. “Sure,” you giggled instead, kicking your friend’s shin again to alert her when Jeno came back with your drinks. “There you go, food will be out in a bit,” he smiled politely. Not the kind of smile that turned his eyes into beautiful crescents but a more reserved one.

“Hey, uhm,” Mimi suddenly spoke up when Jeno turned around to walk away again, making him halt in his steps. “Have you been working here for long?” Oh god. You had to physically keep yourself from cringing at her awkward try to rope him into a conversation. “Just a handful of weeks, so not that long,” Jeno shrugged, “Looking for a job as well?” “Oh no, we both work part-time at a clothing store downtown,” she waved it off, “I was just wondering because I had never seen you around before.” “Well yeah, makes sense I haven’t been here for long.” “So you recently moved here? I’m sure I would have remembered a handsome face like yours,” Mimi now blatantly flirted, twirling a dyed strand of hair around her finger and just slightly leaning forward on the table to give Jeno a better view of her cleavage in her white cropped top. “Yeah, I’m not from around here,” he shared, his eyes firmly staying on her face but the redness of his ears and how his fingers were fiddling with his little notepad betrayed his cool facade. Was this the time where you should end this to save Mimi and Jeno from further embarrassment? Or should you enjoy this for a little longer? “Are you also a student?” She asked next, “We both go to university here.” “Oh god no,” Jeno exclaimed and this time you couldn’t hold in the little giggle that slipped past your lips, noticing that your boyfriend’s lips twitched into a little grin as well. The more Jeno saw you struggle between classes, essays and study sessions, the more sure he had become about his whole decision to not do the whole university thing. Just when your friend wanted to ask the next question, a loud voice interrupted: “Jeno, I am not paying you for flirting with customers! Get back to work!” Rolling his eyes at his boss, Jeno shot the two of you an apologetic look before quickly walking to the register where his boss was waiting.

“God, even his name sounds good,” Mimi groaned, returning to her former position, sprawled out over the table. “You sound like you’re in love with him,” you giggled, “You don’t even know him.” “Listen. This is love at first sight. Do you not watch romance movies?” You did in fact. Even though Jeno would complain throughout the whole first 30 minutes of the movie until he’d either accept his fate in favor of cuddling and letting you pet his hair or actually get invested in the movie as well, cursing the characters for being so stupid and not talking out their problems. “I do, dummy,” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip from your milkshake that didn’t disappoint after Jeno had praised it so much, “But don’t you need to get to know a person before you can love them?”

“You’re the one with a boyfriend,” she mumbled, collecting herself from the table to take a sip of her drink as well, “Tell me about him.” “My boyfriend?” “Yeah, you never speak much about him and don’t let us meet him either. Convince me he’s not made up.” “Well we know each other since childhood,” you shared, feeling heat creep up your cheeks and neck, knowing how cliche your story sounded, “He lived in the house next to ours so we played a lot as children but then my family had to move away when I was in like elementary school or something because of my dad’s work but eventually we moved back for my last year of highschool.” “Oh wow, that must have sucked to leave all your friends behind twice.” Sighing, you ran your hands through your hair. “It wasn’t easy to just leave everything behind, but I managed. We moved back into our old house and he was also still living in the house next to us with his family. His mom made him take me to school every day and we shared a lot of classes and then it just went from there,” you smiled, blatantly leaving out the part where you had to basically force Jeno to speak and open up to you at nights on his rooftop beneath the moon and the stars. That was a private matter you didn’t want to share without his consent.

“That is so wholesome,” Mimi cheered, “What’s he like?” “Different?” You tried to explain, swirling your straw in your milkshake, “Like different than you’d expect him to be. When you see us together, you’d probably say we don’t match.” “Ooooh,” she nodded, her eyes wide, “So you’re like opposites?” “You could say that,” you smiled, “But when you get to know us, we’re not that different.” Before she could ask more questions, Jeno interrupted you again, hands full of your plates. “And that’s your food girls. Please enjoy,” he smiled, placing the plates down, “If you need anything else, I’ll be around.” “Actually,” Mimi began and you had to hold yourself back from interrupting her, “I was wondering when your shift is ending.” “My shift?” Jeno repeated, his eyes shortly drifting over to you. “Yeah,” she smiled, waiting for his answer. “I’m off in a bit,” he said slowly after checking the time on the neon clock hanging over the counter. “So you’re free after we’re done with our food?” She pressed on. “Probably?” “Would you like to hang out after? We still have some time until our next classes start. “Hang out. With you two,” he repeated, still dumbstruck by her boldness. “I mean you don’t have to if you really don’t want or have something to do,” she shrugged but you knew that look in her eyes. She was determined to have him hang out with you. “I was just going to go get groceries and go home,” Jeno shared, “Listen, I gotta go back to work or my boss will literally fire me because he already hates me.” With an apologetic smile, he quickly walked down to another table where a couple was seemingly done with their meal.

“You’re so shameless,” you accused your friend, finally digging into your meal. “Listen. I see a hot boy and need to talk to him, it’s as easy as that,” Mimi giggled, taking a bite from her burger. “Now tell me more about that boyfriend of yours.”

Once you were finished with your meal, Jeno already wasn’t there anymore to take your bill, instead, a cute girl with a big puffy skirt handed your friend the bill. “But half the stuff is missing,” Mimi asked, “I’m paying for both of us.” “Oh, my colleague took care of one of the meals,” the waiter smiled, “He must like one of you.” “I told you my flirting was worth it,” your friend smiled, handing over the money. You really didn’t have it in you to tell her that Jeno most likely covered for your half of the meal when she seemed so genuinely happy about it, so you swallowed the words back down even if it was going to come out sooner or later when you’d finally get Jeno to meet your friends.

Apparently, the universe wanted it to be sooner because as soon as you stepped back out of the diner and into the sun, a boy clad in all black caught your attention. He was leaning against the little railing around the diner, a cigarette between his lean fingers. “Hey,” you nudged your friend, nodding towards Jeno. “Huh?” “It’s the waiter,” you explained, looking over at him. By now it looked like he was trying his hardest to hold back his grin while taking another drag. Shocking people with his looks still was one of his favorite things to do if they only knew him from one of his jobs where he had to wear a uniform. “No way,” Mimi whispered, “He looks like a completely different guy.” “You’re not in love anymore now?” “He’s just so…” “Different?” You helped her out, rolling your eyes. Why could no one see past the dark clothes, chains and the cigarette and made the effort to actually get to know Jeno? “I don’t think he’s my type.” “You’re ridiculous,” you snorted, leaving her behind to walk over to Jeno.

“Hey bubblegum,” he smiled, curling an arm around your waist like it was second nature already, “Fancy seeing you here.” “You didn’t tell me that was the diner you applied to,” you pouted, scrunching your nose at the smell of smoke. “I didn’t know it was close to your campus,” he shrugged it off and stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette after taking a last drag, making an effort to blow the smoke away from you, “Your friend tried really hard to flirt with me.” “She’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes, looping your arms around his torso to hug him close, “I missed you.” “I made you breakfast literally this morning,” he laughed but pulled you closer to him anyways. “If you work this close you could have come to visit.” “Bubblegum…” Jeno sighed, tucking a wild strand of hair back into place. “My friends think I’ve made up my boyfriend,” you pouted. “You want to show your friend back there how real I am? I think her eyes are already very close to falling out of her head.” “What’s going on in that head of yours Jeno Lee?” “Let me show you,” he grinned, cupping your face with one of his hands before pressing his lips to yours in a languid kiss, the taste of smoke on his breath familiar by now. “You really need to quit,” you grumbled against his lips. “I know,” he sighed but kissed you again anyways, “Wasn’t expecting to see you this soon.” “So you smoke in secret?” “Stop arguing when I’m trying to kiss you,” he grumbled, playfully biting your bottom lip. “Stop kissing me when I’m trying to safe your lungs,” you pouted, slapping his chest for emphasis but didn’t protest and insted kissed you again, languid and deep.

“Are you two done making out now?” Mimi suddenly interrupted you, making your face heat up as you took a step back from Jeno who was having nothing of that and pulled you back against his side by your waist. “Yeah, all done,” he grinned, holding one of his hands out for your friend to shake, “I’m Jeno.” “I figured from your boss screaming at you,” she mumbled but shook his hand anyways, giving him her name as well, “You made me look like a fool. Like you could have told me you were the infamous boyfriend refusing to meet us.” “It’s not like I was refusing.” “You totally were,” you butted in, pinching his side. “Listen it doesn’t sound as appealing to spend my evenings with a group of all girls as you think it does,” he defended himself, “And now you have a witness that I am in fact real.” “You’re not getting out of his now, Jeno Lee,” you grinned, lacing your fingers together. “And if I told you I had this really important thing to do?” He tried, throwing you his best puppy eyes. “We can go grocery shopping after my last class,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re walking back to campus with us now.” “Yes, ma’am,” he rolled his eyes, “Let me carry your bag.” “Oh god, you’ll make me feel so single,” Mimi groaned when you handed Jeno your backpack to carry. “You wanted this, I can leave any time,” your boyfriend shrugged, “Do you have like stones in your bag or something?” “It’s called books, you should try it,” you said, playfully sticking out your tongue. “Why am I even dating you?” Jeno just rolled his eyes. “Because you love me,” you smiled brightly. “Yeah, I kinda do,” he confessed, squeezing your hand.

“No need to make me feel even more single,” Mimi groaned again, “Do you have any hot friends to introduce me to, Jeno?” “I don’t think they’re your style,” he shrugged it off, motioning at his attire of ripped black jeans and dark shirt. “So you do have some hot friends that are also single?” “You almost fainted when you saw me, I don’t think you could handle them.” “Don’t judge a book by its cover, babe,” you smiled, leaning into his body. “Sure, bubblegum,” he gently smiled back.

Because if you had judged him by his cover, you’d never be as happy as you were right now.

[amaranthinecanicular]

and the name for your order is

The guy snarls his order, and Kirishima is glad because clearly he's an unrepentant dick to everyone, not just Amajiki. It's easier to come to terms with than he thought it would be. “And your name?” he says, plucking a cup from the stack and uncapping the marker with his teeth.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” says the customer.

“Oh no,” says Kirishima, because oh no, he likes this guy. It's one of those sudden revelations that takes him by the throat and shakes him down. Who wants to know, he says, as though it wasn't obvious. Who wants to know. So absurdly aggressive it ends up amusing instead of intimidating. Endearing, even.

[My belated @fyeahbnha secret santa gift for @pointy-hat-witch! Please enjoy, and happy holidays!!!]

[Alternatively read on ao3.]

OCTOBER 

Fat Gum’s Café has a new customer.

Well. Not new, exactly. He's been showing up for the last two weeks or so but only on days Kirishima wasn’t working. The news shared by his coworkers more closely resemble war stories than work gossip, ranging exclusively from horrible to terrible. 

“He’s the scariest person I’ve ever met in my life,” says Amajiki.

“He’s like a sentient piece of crap rolled up in a garbage can and set on fire,” says Kaminari.

“He makes Give me a mocha double espresso sound like an order of execution,” says Amajiki.

“He’s rude and violent and he has no honor,” says Tetsutetsu.

“If he’s not actually a demon sent from the depths of hell to torture me specifically I would be very surprised,” says Amajiki. Most of the stories are from Amajiki.

Kirishima is dying to meet him, in part to defend his friends’ honor and in part to put a face to the legend. Luckily, the start of the new quarter means new classes at new times, and that means new work hours. What was originally a Tuesday-Thursday-Friday-Sunday schedule shifts to a Monday-Wednesday-Saturday schedule. Kirishima feels bad about that. He likes the coffee shop, likes his coworkers, likes his boss. If he could ace his tests and help out at Fat Gum’s every day he would, but he can't. His grades are dragging.

On the bright side, he meets their local celebrity, like, immediately.

It’s his first Saturday on the job. He knows it’s about to go down when he finds Amajiki attempting to assimilate himself into the storage closet. 

“He's back,” says Amajiki, doing an excellent impression of coffee grounds quaking in fear. “If I have to deal with him again I'll die, I'll just die. Tell Mirio and Hadou I said goodbye. I'm sorry, Kirishima-kun, I can't do it.”

Poor guy. Amajiki is convinced this dude is terrorizing him deliberately, which Kirishima sincerely hopes isn't true. Anyone who would go out of their way to frighten serious, hardworking, anxious Amajiki must be a monster.

As if to punctuate this point, someone out at the front begins to brutalize the counter bell. To be fair, they really shouldn't leave it unmanned.

“Don't sweat it, senpai,” Kirishima says. He doesn't give Amajiki the manly clap to the shoulder that he wants to—Amajiki isn't so good with physical contact from anyone other than Togata or Hadou. “I'll handle the problem customer.”

Amajiki peeks at Kirishima through coffee filters and the dark wedge of his fringe. “You—you mean it?” 

“Sure do. I like a challenge.”

He flashes his brightest smile. Amajiki squints a little at the force of it. 

:

Kirishima is honestly surprised that the poor bell isn’t dented by the time he comes to its rescue. 

“About fucking time,” says the problem customer. He's got riotous blond hair and a scowl on his face like it's been carved there. There's a grenade logo sprayed on his baggy black tee, which makes sense, because one look at this guy brings to mind the word explosive.

“How may I help you, sir?” says Kirishima, with deliberate pep. Impossibly, impressively, the scowl cuts deeper. Like an attack—like he's never not on the offensive. That's fine. Kirishima’s smile will be his armor. 

The guy snarls his order, and Kirishima is glad because clearly he's an unrepentant dick to everyone, not just Amajiki. It's easier to come to terms with than he thought it would be. “And your name?” he says, plucking a cup from the stack and uncapping the marker with his teeth.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” says the customer.

“Oh no,” says Kirishima, because oh no, he likes this guy. It's one of those sudden revelations that takes him by the throat and shakes him down. Who wants to know, he says, as though it wasn't obvious. Who wants to know. So absurdly aggressive it ends up amusing instead of intimidating. Endearing, even.

Kirishima spits the cap out of his mouth. “I want to know. For your order, man.”

The problem customer narrows his eyes as though to peer through Kirishima’s question to the ulterior motives behind it, which is insane, since there are no ulterior motives to be found in the absolutely routine procedure of a coffee shop. Cheerfully oblivious seems to be getting under his skin, so Kirishima leans into it. “What if I forget who asked for the mocha double espresso?”

The customer rolls his eyes. He rolls his eyes violently. “Right, because I'm real fucking forgettable.”

“You could be.” The look he gets for that is entirely worth breaking the Customer Is Always Right creed. “We get a lot of traffic, man, it’s nothing personal.”

The customer braces himself on the counter and leans into Kirishima’s space. Instinct hooks in his spine and tries to reel him back a step or two, but he hardens his resolve into stone and ties it to his feet, weighs himself down, refuses to budge.

“You'll remember me,” the customer says. A promise like a threat, and for the first time in the duration of this exchange Kirishima feels seen by him. Acknowledged. It's the same feeling as scoring well on a test, or making a sad friend laugh. Hard-won and worth it. Kirishima can't stop the grin from breaking onto his face so he doesn't try to.

“Sure I will. I like you.”

And the look he gets for that, well, that's priceless.

“So that name?”

“Fuck off.” 

The guy recovers fast, that's for sure. Kirishima watches him skulk to the serving counter where he roots himself like a particularly irritable tree and barks at anyone who gets too close. The next customer gets an extra punch in her punch card for the wait, and when the guy's order is up, Kirishima is ready with a sharpie in hand. Amajiki has ventured back out to help with orders, steadfastly avoiding anything problem-customer-related, but he blanches when he sees what Kirishima is scribbling on the cup. “Are you insane? Do you have a death wish? Should I be getting you help?”

“Trust me,” Kirishima says. He caps the coffee and walks it to its rightful owner. “One mocha double espresso for Mr. Unforgettable.”

The guy snatches the cup. He stomps off without another word.

Thirty seconds later he stomps right back. 

“Blasty McSplode?”

Amajiki ducks under the counter. Kirishima, in the process of taking another order, smiles wide enough to cramp his cheeks.

“Hey! Back already?”

“Blasty Mc-Fucking-Splode?”

“You wouldn't give me your name. I had to take a stab at it myself. Was I close?”

“I'll show you taking a stab—”

Blasty rants and raves for a full minute, splashing mocha just about everywhere, until finally Fat Gum himself ambles out of his office to gently shoo him from the shop. Kirishima waves at him around Fat Gum’s bulk. Blasty waves his middle finger in response. When Fat Gum comes back in he raises an eyebrow at Kirishima, which, yeah, he definitely deserves, but he also passes a heavy hand through his carefully gelled hair to show that he's not really mad. Kirishima fixes his hair as best he can while Amajiki climbs out from under the counter.

“I can't believe he didn't kill you for that,” he says, his voice buffed by awe.

Kirishima gives the next customer's punch card an extra punch too. Hell, he gives her two extra punches. Why not? He's in a great mood.

:

Two days later Blasty stalks in and Kirishima can't believe his good fortune. He calls out a greeting from across the cafe and gets a glare in response, but that glare holds, a few seconds of extended eye contact, long enough to stay in Kirishima’s belly after it's ended and flutter there.

Blasty growls his order. Kirishima asks for his name. Blasty tells him to go die and Kirishima scribbles Lord Explosion Murder on the cup. He's rewarded with a snort of amusement.

“Did you see that?” he gushes to Kaminari, after Blasty has left. “He totally laughed! He liked it!”

“I saw it I saw it ow stop hitting me!” Kaminari rubs the place on his shoulder that Kirishima had been slapping repeatedly. “I dunno, man. That sounded more like a scoff to me.”

Nah, he's pretty sure he was amused.

:

The next time he comes in, after the requisite exchange (“Your name for the order?” “Eat a dick,” “Cool cool I think I'd get fired if I wrote that but cool,”) Kirishima writes King Explosion Murder on the side of the cup. 

“Better,” Blasty huffs.

Kirishima feels like cloud-walking for the rest of the day. Kaminari isn’t on shift, but when Kirishima texts him, he texts back: “I stand corrected. When are you asking him out?”

“All in due time,” Kirishima promises his phone.

:

NOVEMBER

Blasty’s schedule: 

He shows up Monday mornings, rumpled by sleep and grouchier than usual, before he heads off to class. Wednesday evenings he drinks and studies until closing time. Saturday afternoons he sits at the window with a bento. Coincidentally these are the three days and times that Kirishima is on duty. And it must be coincidental, because if it's not then that means that Blasty memorized his schedule and molded his life accordingly, learned to fit him in, looks forward to seeing him three days out of the week. Kirishima may be an optimist, but he's not delusional. He knows how dangerous a daydream like that can be. 

He’s probably just here because it’s a good place to study. And there must be an exam coming up, because lately he’s been showing up with even more books than usual, and suitcases under his eyes instead of bags. He’s crabbier, too, which Kirishima didn’t think was possible and is honestly impressed by. By this point he has unofficially become the only one willing to serve him, but this wild-eyed evolution of Problem Customer into Demon Customer From Hell just clinches it.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Kirishima says, when he brings over Blasty’s third espresso in as many hours. It’s Saturday, usually Blasty’s day to sit and gaze out the window with one of his more pensive death glares, but today he’s entombed himself in a mountain of notes and textbooks. Kirishima nudges aside a few notebooks to make room for the cup.

“Maybe you should go fuck yourself with a rake,” says Blasty, without looking up from the violent strokes of his pen. “Touch my stuff again and I’ll kill you myself, shitty hair.” 

Watching from behind the counter, Amajiki wheezes with secondhand horror. Kirishima peers at the crowded table. “Hey, where’s your bento?”

Blasty slams his pen down. “Was I not clear enough, you moron? Fuck off! Leave me alone!”

Kirishima raises his hands in surrender. Blasty’s mouth opens as if to say something else, but nothing comes out. Maybe he’s realized he’s gone a step too far. They stare at each other for a beat, and then his jaw snaps shut. He jerks his head back to his books and Kirishima retreats to the counter. 

“He can’t speak to you like that,” Amajiki says, suddenly stern. He’s always braver on someone else’s account. “I’ll tell Fat Gum, he’ll understand. We don’t have to serve him. You don’t have to take his abuse.”

“The guy’s under a lot of stress,” Kirishima says. It’s overindulgent even for him, but when he glances over his shoulder he sees Blasty wrench his gaze away. “And I think he feels bad.”

Amajiki obviously doesn’t think so, but he says nothing more, which Kirishima appreciates. By closing time Blasty is the only customer left in the shop, still hunched over his books and writing furiously. Kirishima has given him his space, and he hasn’t asked for another coffee. Amajiki is still angry enough to go tell him they’re closing—he’ll even be properly intimidating about it—but Kirishima stops him.

“I’ll lock up,” he offers. Amajiki’s look of disapproval is a blow to Kirishima’s pride, but he stands firm. So Fatgum leaves, and Amajiki leaves, with a sigh and a firm promise that he’ll be on standby if Kirishima needs anything, and then the place is empty and it’s just him, Blasty, and the scritching sound of his pen.

Kirishima takes his time. He cleans up and Blasty keeps studying. He locks the doors and Blasty keeps studying. He sits down at a table across the cafe and gets some of his own homework done, and Blasty keeps studying. Then he goes back to the machines, knowing he’ll have to clean them again, and whips up a special drink. When he’s done, he writes FIGHT ON! where the name should go.

“I don't want your fucking charity,” Blasty says as he sets it down. 

“You’ve accepted it so far,” Kirishima points out blandly, gesturing to the very obviously closed cafe. Before Blasty can bite his head off, he continues, “Anyway, don't think of it as charity. Think of it as…an investment.”

“Investment in what?” His eyes are narrowed and very red, both in the iris and the bloodshot sclera. 

Kirishima weighs the pros and cons of his next move and decides to go for it. He hazards a wink. “In my future best customer.”

Blasty is unimpressed. Like, fatally unimpressed. Like, it's impressive how unimpressed he looks. Aggressively deadpan. He has to practice that look in the mirror.

But he takes the cup, and when Kirishima peeks at him later, he's smirking at the sharpie message. 

:

Monday morning sees Blasty quiet and terse, but civil. Civil for him, anyway. Kaminari is disturbed.

“What did you do?” he hisses once Blasty bulls out of the shop. 

“Nothing.” Even if he barely met Kirishima’s eyes. Not promising.

“Did you fight?”

“No.”

“Did he turn you down?”

“No. Dude, nothing happened.”

Kaminari raises his hands. For a minute they work in silence.

“So if you didn’t get turned down, are you gonna ask him out soon?”

Kirishima hands off an order, and then lets his customer service smile drop. “Now isn’t a good time. I’ve got to give him some space.”

“Okay, but what about all your fortune favors the manly stuff? Isn’t that the reason you got this far in the first place?”

“How far is that? I still don’t know his name.” He can feel Kaminari’s eyes on him, and he tries to rally. Picks up his smile and pastes it back on. “Hey, enough about me. How’s it going with you and Shinsou?”

Kaminari lights up. For the next twenty minutes he regales Kirishima—and the whole cafe—with his loud and maudlin romantic woes, all he’s so hot the bags under his eyes should not be so hot and his dry sense of humor is so hard to read and I think he’s flirting with me but I thought that with Jirou and she and Momo still won’t let me live it down. 

Kirishima listens and laughs and offers advice, and he does his job, and he doesn’t think about his grumpy favorite customer even once. Really he doesn’t.

:

When Blasty comes in on Wednesday, he looks well rested. Kirishima waves before getting back to orders. This is apparently not good enough for Blasty, because he scowls at the people in line and then stalks over to the serving counter and proceeds to glare daggers, like he expects Kirishima to just up and abandon his work to attend to him. Like, yeah, he wants to, but it wouldn’t be right. Even if Blasty scares other customers away from the counter. And even if Kirishima is getting steadily more distracted the longer he stares. 

On the third order he messes up, Tetsutetsu intervenes. 

“Go on,” he sighs, nudging Kirishima aside as the next customer steps up. “Make it fast, bro.”

Kirishima promises him a meat bun after work and hurries over. “Hey. You’re looking better. Did you ace the test?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

There’s a stalled moment. Kirishima taps his fingers on the counter. Blasty is visibly grinding his molars.

“Cool, so I’m gonna get back to work, I’ll make you your regular—”

“Last week,” Blasty starts. He bites out each word. “Last week, I was.” He stops, lips pressed tight and bloodless.

“An asshole,” Kirishima supplies.

Blasty hums low in his throat. Or he growls. Either way it’s as close to an admission as Kirishima is going to get, and it clearly took a hilarious amount of self restraint for even that much. 

Blasty clears his throat and says, “That drink you made. What was in it?”

Kirishima is a little thrown by the shift. “Xoaxacl chocolate, a little chili powder. I thought you might like an extra kick.”

“It wasn’t half bad.” There’s color along the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take one of those.”

Maybe Kirishima had been more upset by Blasty’s behavior on Saturday than he thought, because now he feels loads lighter, any old hurts dissipating like clouds under the sun. He smiles, and Blasty blinks a lot, the color spreading to his cheeks and his ears and down his throat.

“One special order, comin’ right up!”

Kirishima turns around and reaches for a cup and marker. And then, behind him: “Bakugou Katsuki.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

Blasty is rubbing roughly at his mouth. His whole face is glowing. “You heard me.”

“Bakugou,” says Kirishima, trying the taste on his tongue. Bakugou, full of plosives and hard consonants. “I love it. It suits you.”

Bakugou’s eyes snap wide, then narrow just as fast. “Why the fuck should I care what you think of my name? It doesn't need your approval, dipshit.”

When Kirishima is finished making his drink, Bakugou snatches it from his hand and whirls on his heel, a dramatic spray of foam following him out. Kirishima tingles where their fingers touched.

Then he watches Bakugou take a deep pull, and he has to go clean the latte machine before he’s murdered by the lethal and lovely line of Bakugou’s throat.

:

DECEMBER

“Y’know, I still don’t know what you study.”

“Probably because it’s none of your business.” 

“Right. Except how it kind of is literally my business, since I let you study here, in my place of work, after we’ve closed.”

This has become their ritual. On Saturdays Bakugou stay past closing, sometimes doing schoolwork, sometimes helping clean up, sometimes just chatting. He never stays past nine thirty—Kirishima has learned that he likes to turn in before ten every night, which is bizarrely adorable—but it doesn’t matter. Any amount of time with him is always going to feel like a blessing, and it’s never going to feel like enough.

“You’re not doing me any favors, shitty hair, get that thought out of your empty skull this instant.”

“Sure, sure.”

Kirishima finishes cleaning up. Once the last table is wiped down he sits heavily across from Bakugou, happy to finally be off his feet. His eyes feel swollen, too big for his skull. His grades have yet to pick up despite the extra hours of studying he’s been putting in. He presses his knuckles into his eyes for a moment of relief.

“I’m a med student.”

He blinks the colorless starbursts from his eyes. Bakugou, across from him, comes into focus: his head is still down, his gaze still fixed on his book. Sometimes he wears glasses, thick dark frames that Kirishima loves, and today is one of those days. He grins.

“No shit! You’re going to be a doctor?”

“A surgeon.” Some color rises in his ears; he looks pleased. Maybe because of how awed Kirishima sounds. But why wouldn’t he? Anyone working to help people is worthy of admiration, and manly as hell.

“Dude, that’s awesome. I’m studying to be a nurse.” 

The corner of Bakugou’s mouth twitches upward. “Nurses are badass.”

“I think so. You a doctor, me a nurse. I bet we’d make a good team.” 

Bakugou scoffs, even as pink starts to pool in his collarbones. Kirishima still doesn’t get why certain things make him flush, but he’s happy to learn. He rests his cheek in his hand and tries not to smile too dopily. “Y’know, for a med student you sure drink a lot of coffee. You know too much of this stuff is terrible for you, right?”

“I’m going to tell your boss you said that and get you fired.”

“That’s really not how it works.”

Bakugou’s glare is magnified by the glasses. He takes a long, aggressive sip of his drink—the strength it takes Kirishima not to burst out laughing is Herculean, truly, with the slurping and the deliberate eye contact and all, because only Bakugou could turn coffee into an intimidation tactic. Then he says, “Whatever. I'm invincible.”

Kirishima bursts out laughing. Bakugou grumbles beneath his breath, but his threats delight Kirishima more than they intimidate; Kirishima’s laughter seems to confound Bakugou more than it enrages. They're good for each other, is his sudden thought, and it thrills him.

He’s a little teary and a little breathless by the time he gets himself under control. Through the blurry smudge of his eyelashes he sees Bakugou. Then he’s breathless all over again.

Bakugou’s face—Kirishima wouldn’t say it softens. But there is a softness there, in his unsmiling mouth, in his brow, stern but smooth. He’s just—watching him, steadily. Intent. 

“Hey,” Kirishima says, and it’s easy, it’s so easy. “Make sure you come in on Christmas, alright? I get out early, and I want to ask you something.”

And maybe he expects Bakugou to fluster, or to scowl, or to demand to hear his question then and there. He doesn’t.

 “Fine,” he says, and he just keeps watching. Like he wouldn’t mind watching Kirishima forever.

Maybe Kirishima’s projecting a little.

:

Bakugou would probably tear him a new one for spreading the news around, but Kirishima is too excited to keep it to himself. 

“I’m happy for you,” says Amajiki, sounding worried but sincere.

“Congrats, man,” says Tetsutetsu, and then they have a celebratory arm wrestling match.   

Kaminari is a little more suspicious. “So you haven’t asked him out yet?” 

He’s standing on a stepladder, hanging Christmas decorations while Kirishima mans the counter. Bakugou has already stopped by for his morning coffee, and it’s been a slow morning since. The few people trickling in have been couples, sharing hot chocolate and slices of cake. Kirishima has spent an inordinate amount of time daydreaming about similar situations. In his head it’s usually a little less cozy and a little more explosive, but he likes it better that way.

“Technically no.” He tops the latte he’s working on with extra foam. “I asked him to come by on Christmas, and I’m going to ask him out then. I’ve got a plan.” 

Kaminari doesn’t need to know how nebulous said plan is. At the moment it includes things like Step One: Bribe With Spicy Food (Addendum: Can Christmas Cake Be Spicy?), Step Two: Sweep Bakugou Off His Feet, Step C: Profess Manly Adoration, Step N: Kiss Just Like, Wow, A Whole Bunch. The truth is he’s always been more of an in the moment kind of guy. But he likes Bakugou—he really, really likes Bakugou. He doesn’t want to screw everything up with an impulsive word or action. And if that means taking precautions he wouldn’t usually bother with, he’ll take them. 

“I dunno, man,” says Kaminari. “Midoriya and Momo are all about plans. You…not so much.”

Kirishima decides Kaminari knows him too well. “Any progress with Shinsou?”

That does the trick. Kaminari brightens like the bunch of LED Christmas lights in his arms. He practically swoons, the stepladder protesting beneath him. “Dude, you have no idea. I took a leaf out of your book, just asked him straight out, and lemme tell you I knew Hitoshi was hot but I’ve never seen anyone blush so cute in my whole damn life—”

He swoons a little too hard, arms wheeling, and Kirishima barely vaults the counter in time to catch him. There’s some polite applause from the handful of patrons in the shop. Kirishima and Kaminari bow, and then Fat Gum tells them to quit fooling and get back to work. 

Kirishima does not spend the rest of his shift thinking about how Kaminari called Shinsou Hitoshi. And he definitely does not think about calling Bakugou by his first name on Christmas. 

He does, however, scrawl Katsuki on no less than three to-go cups. 

:

Kirishima does not see Bakugou on Christmas. He does not see much of anyone, or anything, on Christmas. He can barely see his own hand in front of his face, which could be the delirium brought on by the fever or the copious amount of sweat rolling into his eyes, which is also brought on by the fever. 

As badly as he wants to push through the pain, not even he is hardheaded enough to try and drag his sorry carcass to work. It’s hard enough to drag his sorry carcass to the bathroom and back. He tries to text his coworkers (Tamaki? Kaminari? Tetsutetsu? He can’t recall who’s working today, so he texts all of them) and asks them to apologize to Bakugou, but the characters are swimming in his vision and he’s pretty sure the result is gibberish. Which means it’s over. He’s going to be laid up in bed for weeks, he’s going to fail his finals, and come next semester he’ll have a new class schedule, and he’ll never see Bakugou again. He’s blown it. Romance is dead.

Someone’s knocking on the door. He doesn’t answer it right away—it takes a minute for him to peel the rhythm of the pounding door from the pounding in his head. It takes a minute longer for him to stumble up and open it.

“You look like shit,” says Bakugou. He’s standing there looking like god’s gift to the earth, even scowling, even bundled in hat and scarf and mask, even laden down with groceries. Kirishima is pretty sure he’s hallucinating.

“Well? Are you letting me in or what?”

Kirishima lets him in. Bakugou toes out of his boots and then he plants himself in the middle of the room, jerking his head this way and that, taking it all in: the kitchenette-slash-living room, the card table turned dining table, the clashing red and hot pink interior design. “This place is a shitshow,” he declares. “No roommate?”

“She’s spending Christmas with friends.” More specifically, Mina had left last night with the implication that if Kirishima’s date went well he was free to come back to the apartment. There was a lot of obnoxious winking and innuendos. It was sweet of her, if a little mortifying and inappropriate, and in the end entirely wasted when he woke up with the mother of all migraines.

Bakugou drops the groceries on the table and starts shucking his outerwear. The hat, the scarf, the puffy coat. Kirishima sways in place and watches him. He’s wearing a red button down, and beneath that a black tee with the Punisher logo on it. It’s just a little bit dressier than his everyday attire. Is this what he would have worn on their date? If Kirishima had ever gotten to ask him properly? He sighs, forlorn.

Bakugou turns back to him, and they stare at each other. They keep staring at each other until Bakugou reaches past him to close the door, which was still hanging open over his shoulder. Whoops.

“God damn, you’re out of it. Get back to bed, loser.”

He cuffs him over the head, except it’s less of a cuff and more of a ruffle, exasperated and fond. So Kirishima totters back to bed. Hallucination or not, he’s happy to see Bakugou one last time. 

:

When he wakes up, it’s to the rich, earthy kinds of aromas he associates with home cooking, if not necessarily his home. His first thought is that Mina came home early, but she’s just as useless in the kitchen as he is. So either a burglar broke in to cook for him or he wasn’t having an incredibly vivid fever dream, as he’d previously assumed. Which means Bakugou is really, actually, truly in his home.

The door to his bedroom bangs open while he’s wrestling with the sweat-soaked sheets. Bakugou is armed to the teeth with soup, water, tea, pills, and towel, all laid out and puffing steam on a serving tray that Kirishima doesn’t remember owning. He raises an eyebrow at Kirishima’s ogling and knees him in the side.

“Sit up. You have to eat and rehydrate.”

The tray lands on Kirishima’s lap, and then the water and the pills are pushed into his hands. While he’s downing both, Bakugou makes a sour face at the state of his room, and bustles out to change the bedside wastebasket for a clean bag. Kirishima would be more humiliated if he weren’t so happy to see him at all. 

When Bakugou comes back he’s got a thermometer in one hand and the card table’s folding chair under an arm. He kicks the chair open, spins it around, and slings one leg over the side. He brandishes the thermometer like a weapon of war.

“Open.”

The thermometer jabs under Kirishima’s tongue. He winces only a little, and his voice comes out nasally and muffled and a little wondering. “I can’t believe you’re really real.”

 “What else would I be?” 

“I don’t know, a dream? A near death hallucination?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Shut up until I get your temperature.”

A few seconds later the thermometer chirps. Bakugou snaps it up and glares at it, and then something in his face relaxes.

“Barely a fever. You’ll live, moron.”

Kirishima asks, “How’d you know where I live?”

“Your dumbass coworker said you were sick. I threatened him bodily harm until he gave me your address.” Like it’s so obvious. Which, yeah, maybe it is. Probably Kaminari, who is both susceptible to Bakugou’s intimidation tactics and has been pushing for them to get together. When Bakugou snaps open the damp towel and starts mopping at Kirishima’s sweaty face, grumbling beneath his breath, he decides that he’s grateful. 

For the first time he’s realizing how silly his fever induced fears were. He might be down for the count for a few days, but he won’t miss his finals, even if he might fail them. And even if his schedule falls out of sync with Bakugou’s, it’s not like he’ll be gone forever. They have a mutual friend in Midoriya, as Kirishima learned recently. Or else he could just loiter around the cafe until they learn each other’s new schedules. This doesn’t have to be the end at all. Bakugou proved that by coming here.

“Sorry, Bakugou,” he croaks. “I really wanted to be there with you today. Was looking forward to it all week.” 

Bakugou dismisses him with a roll of his eyes. He folds his arms across the back of the chair and rests his chin on them. “So? What happened?” 

“End of the semester. Bad grades. Finals.” He waves a vague hand to encompass the studying and the stress and the lack of sleep. It probably didn’t help that he ran himself into the ground trying to justify a night off with Bakugou, though he doubts that comes across with his flappy wrist.

“Guess it all caught up to me.” He spoons some soup into his mouth. “Oh my god, this is delicious. You made this?”

“I’m great at everything, obviously.” His mask twists with a frown. “You’re having trouble in school?”

“’M not a genius like you.” 

“It’s not about being a genius, it’s about studying habits. You need someone to quiz you, keep you on task.” A pause, nearly short enough to be casual. “I’ll do it.”

Kirishima lowers the bowl he had been tipping over for the last of the broth. “You?”

“What, you think I can’t? I’ll be the best damn tutor you’ve ever seen, shitty hair.” Another pause. This one is more thoughtful.

“What?” says Kirishima.

Bakugou shakes his head. His voice has dropped to a low rumble in his chest. “Never seen you with your hair down. You should chuck all your gel, it’s not so shitty like this.”

“Didn’t think I’d have company to put it up for. I’d have to flip upside down to do it right, I probably would have passed out and died.”

Bakugou snorts. “You’d think a nurse would take better care of himself.”

Kirishima snorts back, with a little more phlegm. “You’d think a doctor would have better bedside manner.”

All of a sudden Bakugou’s scowl is a little less—scowly, than it usually is. More searching. More intense. Their eyes meet for a second too long and it’s like someone is pouring nitroglycerin down the column of Kirishima’s spine.

“Sounds like you want to know more about my bedside manner.” 

He’s smirking, and there are so many things—so many things—that Kirishima could say to that. Things that would be smart or things that would be manly or things that would be safe. So many things. 

His fever speaks for him. “Well, if you’re offering.”

The smirk falls away and that intensity comes roaring back. Kirishima’s insides ignite. Bakugou rises slowly and doesn’t once blink, and his chair scrapes on the floor, and Kirishima has the thought I hope that doesn’t scratch the wood— 

Then Bakugou is kissing him. The rough weave of his mask and the heat of his mouth behind it, like a brand. His open eyes. His hand cradling the curve of Kirishima’s skull. It’s overwhelming and it’s nothing at all, less of a kiss than a touch, less of a touch than a promise. Kirishima clutches at him because he’ll fall away otherwise, he’s hungry and dizzy and unmoored, and he’s got one hand clenched in Bakugou’s shirt and one in his hair and it’s soft, how is it so soft? His heart lurches in his chest.

No no no, not his heart. “Bakugou, back up, I—oh shit—”

He pulls away and flops over the side of the bed, unable to see if his hail mary aim for the wastebasket came through. Only once he’s done tossing his guts does he register the steadying arm around his shoulders. The hand pushing back his hair. It’s warm and square and dry, with callouses on every finger. 

“You’re disgusting,” Bakugou says from somewhere above him. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“You’re the one who just kissed a sick man. What does that make you?”

“Magnanimous as fuck.”

Kirishima laughs. It hurts every part of him, but it’s good. It’s really good.

“I really like you, Bakugou. Like a lot.” 

It comes out so easy, just like that day in the cafe. He’s still half upside down and his mouth is still sour. Bakugou’s hand is still in his hair. Through the damp red locks that escape his grip Kirishima can see him, and for the first time since they met, he looks starry-eyed. It is the most amazing feeling in the world, even when Bakugou blinks the stars away and glowers. 

“Is that why you wanted me to come by the cafe today? I already knew that, dipshit.” 

His voice is dismissive and mocking, but his hand is still in Kirishima’s hair, and his collarbones have flooded pink. It’s just like Bakugou to flirt and kiss him within an inch of his life only to get shy about a little sincerity. 

“Yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. I was hoping we could go out and, I don’t know, look at Christmas lights. Bake a cake together. Pelt each other with snowballs or something. I like you a lot.” 

Bakugou helps him sit up. At his urging Kirishima rinses his mouth with water and then sips some of the tea. It’s lemony and sweet.

Bakugou demands, “What took you so long? I don’t like idiots who beat around the bush, Kirishima. Didn’t think you were like that.”

Kirishima. He doesn’t think he ever wants anyone else to say his name. “Yeah, Kaminari said the same thing. But I didn’t want to mess things up with you.”

“So you decided to be a dumbass? How’d that work out for you?”

He mulls it over. “The guy I like is seeing me half dead, so that’s embarrassing. On the other hand, the guy I like is taking care of me while I’m sick, which is pretty sweet. Net gain, I think.” He’s heartened by the amused squint of Bakugou’s eyes. “So? Want to go out with me?”

For a long moment, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He just watches, steady, intent, and his hand weaves slow, thoughtless paths through Kirishima’s hair. Kirishima has never been in love before, but he thinks this must be it. He can’t imagine anything else hurting quite so sweetly. 

“I’m not dating anyone while I’m still in school,” Bakugou says. “That would be fucking stupid.”

“Okay. After med school is residency, right? You think you’ll be dating then?”

Bakugou’s expression isn’t starry-eyed anymore, but it’s pretty damn close. 

He says, “Stick around and find out.”

:

JANUARY

A new semester means a new schedule, and Kirishima’s does not match up with Bakugou’s even once. It’s a little bit of a bummer, sure, but he’ll survive.

The last customer of the day leaves the cafe two minutes to closing. Kirishima sighs, cracks his neck, and starts prepping the last drink of the day. He sets it on the counter and then he starts wiping down tables, and when the clock strikes the hour, Kaminari goes to lock the doors.

They burst open before he gets there and Kaminari jumps two feet in the air and falls flat on his back. In strides Bakugou, and Kirishima’s heart flutters even as he stands back and cackles at Kaminari for a solid thirty seconds. 

“Kirishima,” Kaminari whines from the floor, “your boyfriend’s being mean to me!”

Bakugou kicks at him. “We’re not dating.” 

“Ha! Sure, and I’m not dating an insomniac with a fine ass—okay okay you’re not dating, quit kicking me!”

He does, but only after Kirishima scolds him and entices him away with a drink. He grabs it off the counter and passes it to Bakugou. Then he snatches it back.

“Forgot the name, just a sec!”

“You already know my name,” Bakugou groans, but he follows Kirishima behind the counter with barely a frown. “Hurry up, shitty hair, I don’t have all night to tutor your ass.”

“Tutor your ass,” Kaminari laughs from the floor. Bakugou growls.

Kirishima finds the marker and uncaps it. Before he can start to write, Bakugou threads their fingers together and squeezes hard.

“I can’t write your name with my left hand, Bakugou.”

Bakugou hooks his chin over Kirishima’s shoulder. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Well, Kirishima likes a challenge. The final result is messy, but legible. He garnishes it with a heart. “Here.”

“Stupid,” Bakugou huffs, but he accepts the cup and takes a swig. Then he yanks Kirishima toward the exit, where Kaminari is finally peeling himself off the floor.

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?” he asks, dusting himself off. “Double--”

“If you say double date, I’ll set you on fire,” says Bakugou. “And only if shitty hair here passes his test with flying colors.”

Kaminari endeavors to look contrite--his face wasn’t really built for it--but when Bakugou’s back is turned, he shoots Kirishima a subtle thumbs up and mouths double date. Kirishima returns the favor.

Out on the street it’s cold and biting. Bakugou hisses, and takes another gulp of his drink. Kirishima watches him glance at the name on the side of the cup again. If he pointed out the color in his cheeks he knows Bakugou would say it was the cold, or the heat of the drink, and then he’d punch him for good measure. But Kirishima can see his smile, hard-won and worth it. He can see how he passes a thumb over the shaky black characters, over and over: Katsuki.

:

[justsomewritingblogg]

Avatar:TLA  (Part 19 of many)

Request:  None

Requested By:  Nobody

Pairing:  Zuko x reader

Summary:  Bitter Work

Warnings:  Mild peril

Word Count:  1K+

Last Chapter  -  Next Chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You were awoken but a weight suddenly landing atop you……again. Your eyes shot open, seeing Sokka on top of you, still in his sleeping bag.

“This keeps happening.”  You muttered, voice groggy.  Sokka leapt up, still in his sleeping bag, and hopped over to Aang, mumbling something about “running around”.  He hopped over to Toph, muttering something about “making noises”.  Frankly, it was incoherent.  Sokka hopped away, still muttering to himself.  Aang jumped, landing next to Toph.

“So, what move are you going to teach me first?”  He asked.  “Rockalance? The trembler?   Ooh!  Maybe I can learn to make a whirlpool out of land!”  Aang exclaimed, doing hand motions for each move.  Toph held an arm out, signaling for him to stop.

“Let’s start with……move a rock.”  She suggested.

The Avatar clapped.  “Sounds good.  Sounds good!”

Toph led him away, going somewhere where you presumed it would be easier to earthbend.  Katara followed, interested.  You on the other hand, were more interested in getting more sleep.  That whole instance with Azula a few nights ago was still taking its toll on you.  You were still exhausted.

You heard a shout and sat up, seeing Aang had crashed into Appa.  A small chuckle was heard moments later. You turned, seeing Sokka still in his sleeping bag, leaning up against the wall as the sleeping bag came over his head.

“Ha!  Rock beats airbender.”  He joked quietly.

“I don’t understand what went wrong.  He did it exactly like you did.”  Katara voiced.

“Maybe if I come at it from a different angle…”  Aang wondered, beginning to move around the boulder. Toph grabbed his sleeve.

“No.  That’s the problem.  You need to stop thinking like an airbender.”  She told him, hitting his forehead lightly.  “There’s no different angle, no clever solution, no trickity-trick that’s going to move that rock.”  She told him, pushing him over.  “You’ve got to face it head on.  And when I say head on, I mean like this!”

Toph jumped into the air, head-butting the boulder.  It smashed into pieces.  Your jaw dropped as your eyes widened in terror.

“Uh…..I don’t think I can do that.”  Aang admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need to be blunt.  You have to show the rock that you’re the boss, and you’re not afraid.” Toph told him.  “And actually, that gives me an idea.  Wait here.”  She instructed.  You watched as Toph used earthbending to get up the side of the cliff.  She did a few hand and feet movements, creating a sort of slide in the mountain.  She created a boulder, sitting it at the top before sliding down.  She approached Aang.  “This time we’re going to try something a little different.”  Toph informed.  “Instead of moving a rock, you’re going to stop a rock.”  She spun around, facing him.  “Get in your horse stance!”  She demanded. Aang quickly widened his stance, getting lower.  “I’m going to roll that boulder down at you.”  She told him.  “If you have the attitude of an earthbender, you’ll stay in your stance and stop the rock.”

You could see the look of terror settling on Aang’s face as he looked up at the massive boulder.  “Oh boy.” You muttered, placing your head in your hands.

“Like, this.” Toph demonstrated.

“Sorry, Toph.  But are you sure this is really the best way to teach Aang earthbending?”  Katara asked, stepping forward.

“I’m glad you said something.  Actually, there is a better way.”  Toph grabbed Aang’s cloth around his waist, pulling it off and tying it around his eyes.  “This way you’ll really have to sense the vibrations of the boulder to stop it.”

The look of surprise and fear on Aang’s face showed you that he didn’t approve of this method.  Toph continued anyway.  “Thank you, Katara.”  She spoke.

“Yeah.  Thanks, Katara.”  Aang told her, a snappy tone to his voice.  Toph, using earth as a launch-pad, threw herself to the top of the cliff.  She pushed the boulder down.  You watched as the large rock rolled, getting closer and closer to Aang.  You chewed the inside of your cheek in stress.  When the boulder was close, Aang jumped over it, the rock flying into a nearby wall.  Toph came running down, no doubt about to scold him for not standing his ground.

“I don’t want to hear this.”  You told no one in particular, standing and leaving, trying to find Sokka. “I wonder where he could have gotten to.”  You muttered, wandering around a nearby forest.  It wasn’t really a forest, per-say, but there were enough trees that you could get lost in it.  You stopped walking when you heard a voice.

“-didn’t work out that way.  I admit it, you’re cute.”

Silence followed.  You recognized the voice as Sokka’s.  You crept forward, seeing a small, brown creature sitting on your friend’s head.

“Okay….you convinced me.  If I get out of this alive, it’s a comically correct, vegetarian existence for me. No meat.  Even though meat is so tasty.”

The creature hopped off of Sokka’s head, running away.  It was then you noticed that he was stuck in the ground, and couldn’t shoo away a fly that had landed on his head.  You walked forward.

“Wow, did I hear that right?”  You teased, emerging from the trees.  Sokka whipped his head around to face you.  “Sokka’s giving up meat?”  You taunted, crouching down to his level and brushing the fly off of his forehead. The creature came back before he had the chance to respond.

“Hey!  Looks like my karma’s already paying off!”  He exclaimed.  The creature dropped an apple a few feet in front of him.  “It’s okay, I got it.”  Sokka assured.  He tried to pull his arms out of the hole to reach it, only resulting in several pained grunts and his boomerang getting squeezed out of its sheath on Sokka’s back. Sokka pointed at the weapon. “Now, come back, boomerang.”

You chuckled, picking up the apple and wiping it off, holding it up so Sokka’s mouth.  He gratefully took a bite, chewing quickly before taking another bite.  He acted like he hadn’t been fed in weeks.  He finished the apple in record time, looking over at you as you tossed the core away.

“Do you think you could get me out of here?”  He asked.  You looked down at him, observing his predicament.

“I don’t think so.”  You admitted.

“Well, could you please try?”  He pleaded.  You brought water out of your canteen, pouring it into the hole.  “Not to question your methods, but what’s the plan here?”

“Will you wait?”  You asked, looking up at him.  You turned the water into ice.  “Hopefully this will make you more slippery, so you’ll slide out.”  You suggested.  You reached forward, grabbing his hands.  “On three.  One, two, three!”  You tugged, causing him to yelp in pain.

“Ow, ow!!  He complained.  You stopped, looking over at him.  “Wait! I think I budged!”  He exclaimed.  “Try again!”  He instructed.  You reached forward, but hesitated.

“You sure?”  You confirmed.  He nodded. You chewed on your lip, reaching forward and pulling him some more, sliding him further out only slightly. You pulled with all your might.

“It’s starting to get cold!”  He whined.  You opened your eyes, (they were squeezed shut from the strain), seeing that he was slightly blue.  You turned the ice back into water, bringing it back to your canteen.

“It’s getting dark.”  You noticed, looking up at the sky.  The creature, who you now know as Foofoocuddlypoops, was tugging on his ‘warriors wolf’s tail’.  Sokka was getting desperate.

“Okay, karma person, or thing, or whoever’s in charge of this stuff.  If I can just get out of this situation alive, I will give up meat, and sarcasm.”  He pleaded.  You cocked an eyebrow at his antics.  “Ow!” He exclaimed as Foofoo pulled out his hair tie, letting his hair go wild.  “That’s all I got!  That’s pretty much my whole identity.  Sokka: the meat and sarcasm guy.  But I’m willing to be Sokka: the veggies and straight-talk fellow.”

You rolled your eyes.  “That’ll be the day.”  You muttered.

“Aang!  Thank goodness!  Have you got any meat?”  You heard Sokka shout from beside you.  You turned, seeing Aang rush over.

“Sokka!  Are you okay?”  He asked, grabbing Sokka’s hands and pulling.

“Ow!  Stop! Stop!!  You’re gonna pull my fingers off, but I don’t think the rest of me is coming!”

“Hm.  I bet I could airbend you out of here.”  He placed his hands on the ground as air flew out of the crevice Sokka was in.  When the dust cleared, Sokka’s hair was straight up, until his weapons fell on his head, flattening his hair again.

“Seriously Aang, I know you’re new at it, but I could use a little earthbending here.  How about it?”

“I can’t.  I can’t do it.”  Aang admitted softly.

“Well, if you can’t earthbend me out of here, go get Toph.”

“I can’t do that, either.”

“You can’t?  Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, venturing back into the forest to see if you could go find Toph.  If Aang won’t, someone has to get Sokka out of there.  When you finally made your way back to camp, you found Katara.  “Where’s Toph?”  You asked, approaching her quickly.

“I’m not sure.”  Katara replied.  “She said she was going to find Aang.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Fantastic.”  You mumbled. Katara’s eyes lit up, prompting you to raise your eyebrows in confusion.

“You found him!”  Katara exclaimed, rushing forward and hugging Sokka.  You turned, seeing Aang and Toph with him.  You smiled, seeing your friend out of the hole.

“The whole time I was in that hole, not knowing if I would live or die, it makes a man think about what’s really important.”  Sokka began.  You cocked an eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips.  “I realized-”

“Hey, Katara!  Look what I can do!”  Aang interrupted.  He turned to the side, making some movements.  A chunk of rock flew off of a pillar.

“You did it!”  Katara exclaimed.  “I knew you would!”

Appa suddenly roared loudly.  Aang rushed over.  “Appa! I can earthbend now!  The key is to be completely immovable, both mentally and physically.”

The large bison licked Aang, knocking him over.  You chuckled, shaking your head.

“You’ll get the hang of it.”  You assured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n:   Sorry it’s so short!

Tag List:  @pizzamelon7384, @rissa-doodles, @chewymoustachio, @exo-nova, @90skid018, @hitsugayarose, @samanthadegaro, @casedoina, @bri-brithebumblebeee, @beeposstuff, @lunashaw57, @aamcqueeny, @anactualvelociraptor, @dnarez, @theferretkids, @fancyapricotcalzonepersona, @hyuckcherie, @bitchtits15, @rintheemolion, @panbelle, @littlemsrantsalot, @lovelyfuckingcunt, @h3llbunni​

[youarejesting]

hey bb💜 I got another request for you: Mafia!Yoongles, SFW, prompt: Bonnie & Clyde

Yoongi: Bonnie & Clyde SFW

Beta: @jung-hoseok-s-airplane

Word count: 3k

Warnings: paranoia, thriller, drama, terror, but soft and fluffy, and angsty. Talk of guns and multiple fight scenes, protect Yoongles at all costs.

Yoongi wasn’t the boss of a Mafia, he wasn’t even high ranking within the gang. He was just an underlying member of the outer circle. Why? All because of a stupid loan. One small sum of money he borrowed for his Tuition that has left him forever in debt.

Now he spent his days working earnestly to pay everything back, however, every year they added a ridiculous amount of interest. They did it to keep him stuck in a rut.

While working and making the payments he was able to open his dream music shop, where he taught children how to play and read music on the weekends.

Seven years passed and he was finally ready to close his accounts; he had saved up his last few thousand and the undoubtedly large interest he knew he would have to pay. They would come up with excuses like ‘account keeping fees’ or ‘providing him with insurance’ which he knew it was all part of the scam.

He would go on whatever “Jobs” the boss asked of him. Whether it was drug trafficking or to rough up some people who owed the boss money.

You had seen it all, broken noses and busted lips, remembering the first day he came home beaten with a purple swollen eye. He had tried to cover the eye with his hair, but you notice the change in his demeanor instantly.

Yoongi wasn’t a pushover, he never whined and never asked for help and it took everything to convince him to allow you to provide first aid for him. He stood in the bathroom as you provided him with medicine and tried to ease this pain and discomfort.

At his worst, Yoongi had returned home with several broken ribs, fingers and a serious shoulder injury. He refused to go to the hospital and you did your best to patch him up. His shoulder however never healed the same causing permanent damage. His face often became pained as he played the piano pinpointing the exact moment when it would start to ache. Yet he never broke and never complained.

“Yoongi, where are you going?” You asked, pulling on your sneakers ready for your ‘spin class’ at least that’s what you called it and what you told Yoongi you were doing. Looking up after securing your laces you saw him in a suit, never a good sign.

There were few occasions Yoongi wore a suit, and he had a different suit for all occasions. He had his beautiful recital suit with coat tails and bow tie your favourite. He had his wedding suit his business casual suit and then this one. It was black on black reminiscent of a funeral but you knew it was because it was easier to hide blood stains.

He was going to Mister Bang, the leader of the Gang. The uncertainty kicked in. Would he return home, if he did would he be injured?

“I am paying out my debt today” He gestured to the duffle bag with a grin. “I even have interest on top of the interest amount just in case, I am ending this today.”

His voice was firm, it baffled you how he did it, how he managed to keep his faith all this time. Always positive that this day would come. Of course, you knew and supported his plans of leaving, but he was finally doing it.

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek wishing him luck, but he pulled you back kissing you firmly and passionately. You could feel how tense he was, there was so much weight on his shoulders.

“If something happens to me today, I just want you to know”

“I don’t want to hear it, you can tell me when you get home, I will order your favourite”

His soft smile brought with it a soft twinkle in his eyes, he seemed to be burning your image into his brain. Sharing a kiss before heading out to the gym.

When you got there you were met by Jungkook, a trainer in self-defense. Jungkook trained you to box using some elements of taekwondo to keep you strong. Jimin on Fridays taught you a series of mixed martial art styles and kept you agile.

You had spent almost all four years of your marriage with Yoongi working with these men to always be safe. It was after that first day when he came home hurt. Knowing you had to learn to protect yourself, so they could never use you against him. Never knowing what might happen to you or Yoongi.

Arriving home after your training you saw Yoongi alone in the dark nursing a whiskey bottle in his hand. Every step closer made your eyes prickle with a sad and angry emotion.

His suit was ripped and parts of him were discoloured or stained from blood and bruising.

“Baby, what happened?” You asked grabbing his face noticing the way he winced. His voice was so small and his lip shook eyes misting up.

“He took my money, he said “thank you for paying back your debt, but the only way you get out is by death” Yoongi sniffed, the tears spilling from his eyes dripping onto your hands as they held his cheeks.

It felt as if your heart was breaking at his words, never in your marriage had he shed tears like this. Sure one or two tears at your wedding, but that was it he never cried otherwise and especially not in fear.

“I said firmly that I was leaving and they beat me, when they finally stopped Bang told me to go home and when I come back I would be promoted.”

He hugged you arms wrapping around your waist and he cried against you. His body shook with uncertainty, his strength leaving him as he leaned on you. They had broken him and you weren’t going to stand for it. Pulling the bottle from him, you had a mouthful the burn in your throat and stomach much needed for what you were contemplating. Gently kissing the unbruised area of his forehead, you stepped back. “Go pack some clothes.”

“What?” He looked confused and you wanted nothing more than to tell him everything would be okay. But it was not.

“Yoongi trust me okay” His watery eyes locked on yours and he seemed to notice the fire behind them, sure he had seen the embers dimly lit whenever you saw him injured or heading out again but this was different. Two glowing orbs holding a pure and fiery strength he needed at this moment.

He watched you lift the floorboard and raised an eyebrow when you grabbed a collection of money stacks.

There were so many things you wanted to bring with you but you knew you could only take the essentials. That didn’t stop you from picking up your wedding album with shaking hands and having one last look at your happy life together. Yoongi stepped out of the bedroom room with a duffle bag in his hand, his expression turning soft.

“Bring it?” He smiled making a gesture to the book “If you want it, bring it. But I want you to know, I am here. Always, and we can have a hundred weddings if you wish.”

“We were so happy?”

“I am sorry, that’s all I ever wanted was for us to be happy and I ruined it my love”

“You could never ruin it Yoongi, you just made it more adventurous I have experienced things I never would have if I didn’t have you”

“You experiences things you shouldn’t have because of me”

Tearing out your favorite photo and slipping it into your wallet you looked around the room.

He sat in front of the brown upright piano, running his hands over the smooth and worn wood. He was saying his goodbyes before turning and taking your hand leading you out of the house immediately.

You traveled for almost two hours until you arrived at Cheongju. You both wanted to go further but it was late and you had to make a plan, driving around aimlessly wasn’t going to help.

So you stayed at a dirty motel using cash. Yoongi said it was better that way they could trace everything else.

Stepping out of the shower and laying on the bed; Yoongi was setting up a burner phone and trying to contact an old friend in his home town Daegu.

The two of you had drifted off to sleep for what seemed like an hour when there was a loud thudding on your hotel door. Sitting up and Yoongi swore, trying to reach for his gun but the door was beaten in.

“What do we have here?” One hulking man asked his gun halting your movements, he was sweaty and made you scrunch your nose in distaste. The other was thinner and taller he had a large burn on the side of his temple and you wanted nothing to do with them.

“Looks like two runaways,” this man pointed his guns at Yoongi, “Get out of bed!”

Hands in the air, you followed their orders stepping from under the warmth of the blankets. Walking cautiously to the middle of the room, Yoongi didn’t raise his hand but followed their orders, taking your hips and trying to move you behind him, you didn’t budge.

Jimin in many occasions had taught unarmed combat and how to use your body as a weapon, he also taught you how to disarm someone.

“You have to move fast. I cannot stress it enough, your small and female they won’t expect you to have the guts to do anything” he smiled “so you have the advantage, what I want you to do is take the weapon quickly and with the least trouble.”

Jimin showed you meticulously how to disarm up to three men, “any more than three and I don’t think you will come out of it unharmed”

Jungkook taught you the importance of the first strike and all the power behind it.

“You need to prove you won’t go down easily, when you strike, you strike hard and fast, don’t miss and don’t give them the chance to fight back”

They had trained you well the only problem was you had never experienced a real weapon in your face. “You made a big mistake Suga and you better realize we are leaving here with your wife, and only your wife, the boss doesn’t forgive desertion,” the gun turned on Yoongi and you couldn’t explain what came over you.

It was like someone had taken over your body, it surely couldn’t have been you. Disarming the first guy was easy and you were proud and thankful the weapon was no longer pointed at your husband. You turned fluidly from the now limp figure to throw a punch into the face of the other man, moving quickly flicking the gun out of his hand. A loud gunshot rang through the room, but it didn’t hit you so you must have done something right.

Knocking the second man unconscious, you took their weapons and turned to Yoongi. He was on the ground leaning against the bed, you raced over, “Yoongi!”

“I’m okay, it’s a graze” Yoongi laughed a disbelieving smile on his face. “You actually just kicked their asses!”

“It really is a graze love see” the wound was indeed pretty superficial so you trusted him. Collapsing into his arms crying and shaking. The adrenaline that had been causing through your body was plummeting, as the crisis was over.

“Hey it’s okay, I am so proud of you, come on we have to move” he said lifting your chin and wiping your tears. “I got somewhere we can go, grab your stuff” The two of you took precautions taking everything.

You drove while Yoongi bandaged his arm, he had gotten good at first aid, as was expected since he got injured often.

Deciding to ditch the car as the number plate was traceable you waited by a truck stop. Paying a man to ride in his truck as close to Daegu as he could.

Once inside the cabin of the vehicle you told Yoongi to sleep but he refused instead holding you to his chest and eyeing the driver. “You sleep love you had a big day”

You were woken by Yoongi who was tapping your arm, “Honey, wake up, the nice man drove us as far as he could?” You opened your eyes noticing Yoongi’s heavy Daegu accent had slipped through, he must have been angry. When you sat up you noticed Yoongi had a gun pointed at the man.

“What happened?” You asked looking between the two males.

“He tried to touch you and I wouldn’t let him,” Yoongi smiled but this wasn’t a friendly smile his eyes were full of anger. “Thank you for your help sir but we will be on our way?”

“Thank you for getting us this far, but if you even think of hurting someone, I will kill you,” you smiled and waved him off. “Yoongi we have to keep moving, it’s almost morning and we can’t have traces of ourselves on CCTV’s.

He nodded and while walking along you passed a small hairdresser, inside was a young man. You convinced him to give you a makeover. He seemed very excited to help you, “Yoongi, you are going first okay?”

“Whatever you say?” He smiled, the staff bleached his hair before dying it a mint green giving him contact lenses that were a grey color, He went off with the few male staff members who were going to dress him.

When he stepped out, it was a bit of a shock to see him in something a single twenty-year-old male would wear and not a married man in his thirties.

The owner smiled “hey don’t be nervous, Look at how handsome I am, I only make beautiful people, and you are already beautiful, so my job is easy, you know”

“Jin what are we thinking?” The woman said and he gave the woman some instruction.

She took scissors to your hair, giving you a straight-across fringe and removing several inches from your hair which you had kept long since your wedding. They gave you a blunt cut to your collarbones and began dying your hair. They had faded your hair from a caramel blonde/brown to a bright red.

There wasn’t much time to think as they did your make up and pierced your ears a few times. You looked quite youthful, putting on the clothes they provided feeling self-conscious. This wasn’t you, you felt naked, your legs were on show.

Wearing a denim skirt that stopped midthigh and a tight shirt wasn’t really something you wore at your age but Jin assures you that ‘if you act young, you will look young’. It was a strange notion, but he did look good for his age. When you stepped out Yoongi gave a small laugh. Unable to stop yourself from wondering what he might think, you shuffled your boots against the rug. “Does it look weird?”

“You look as beautiful as the day we met?” His eyes drank you up and down “Do you remember?” He opened his wallet and showed you a picture from your group mixer, “you looked not much different from right now”

“I don’t… look weird?” You said looking in the mirror and seeing the bright lipstick, you looked like you were styled by one of those idol girl groups.

“Hell no, you look like a dream, I love you no matter the style of clothing and hair colour you have. Cause you can rock them all” He smiled and thanked Jin explaining that the two of you never came in, before paying them an enormous amount of money and taking the bus to Daegu countryside.

When you arrived you were met with a tall man with golden blonde hair, he was what you expected a golden retriever to be if they were human. “What a look, you must be Yoongi’s wife” He had blue paint on his chin, the only blemish on his beautiful face, along with a matching green strip of paint through his hair and on the tip of his ear.

“Y/n, this is Taehyung,” Yoongi smiled leading you along after the charismatic young man, “an old friend.”

“I just picked up some paints, do we need anything else from town or shall we retire home?” He was walking backwards and you laughed at how happy he looked it seemed so odd how calm you felt.

Was it wrong to feel safe in this moment, your eyes darted around and the sick heavy feeling of paranoia set in. Could they see you? Were they watching? Waiting for you to let your guard down so they could strike?

Was Taehyung really on your side or had they already got to him and this was their plan. You grabbed Yoongi’s arm, “Can we really trust him what if he is leading us into a trap?”

“Trust me okay?” He said kissing your cheek and sighing. “We can’t turn on everyone without giving them a chance”

He was right but how could you not worry, this wasn’t a normal situation this was doorways some leading to freedom and others death.

It took some time, a bus, and a tractor before you finally arrived at a large farm. “Make yourself at home,” he smiled.

Three months had passed and things were going great, but you did something you shouldn’t have. You went into town that morning with a disguise and rang your parents telling them you were safe before quickly hanging up.

They were thankful to hear from you and you headed back to the farm shaking unable to stand the crowds.

For about five days you stayed awake at night trying to listen for any sign that someone was coming for you. Finally deciding that you may have just got away with it, you all were going into town for groceries.

The boys went off to look at farm supplies while you went through the shop. “Y/n?” a voice called you turned seeing a man in a suit and realized what you had just done.

His smile bloomed across his face, a sick sadistic grin. Your eyes flickering around for an escape. Slamming the trolley into his legs and elbowing him to the ground was your first move.

You tried to race passed him only to have him grab you by the ankle causing you to hit the floor. Stomping your foot into his nose until he let you go. Running down the street and into the supply store you began looking through the clothes rack for something to hide your appearance.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asked confused as to why you were hiding in this store instead of buying groceries. One look at the fear on your face and he knew his answer, dropping the bag of birdseed Taehyung had asked him to carry. “We have been found?”

“Just me, you will be fine as long as you don’t get caught” You looked around “I just need to leave here without being seen” You looked around for another escape seeing a bloody nose man bossing around some other men point at shops to raid, Taehyung ran over. “I found these bags, the owner says we can fill it and he will weigh it and we pay what we get.

You snatched the bag and looked at Taehyung, “Put me inside and let’s go we are busted,” Taehyung looked around spotting the manager and pressed a finger to his lips as you curled up inside he picked you up in his arms, Yoongi paid the man more than he needed and the three of you left the store.

You held still, barely breathing, as Taehyung walked to the bus stop Yoongi patted the bag softly trying to calm you. Soon you heard the bus, Taehyung carried you onto the bus, they gave you the all-clear to emerge from the bag but you waited an extra few minutes for the bus to leave the town before you busted out.

“How did they find us?” Yoongi hummed and you looked down feeling guilty, that you had ruined everything.

“I made a call in town,” you hung your head and Yoongi frowned, “we will have to leave dove,” his fingers brushed your cheek soothingly.

Taehyung had gotten in contact with a man who went by the name RM for his own protection, a man who made passports while you and Yoongi were busy changing your hair again.

The passports arrived after three days. “What the hell kind of fake names are these?” Yoongi facepalmed at his friend's stupidity, “Taehyung, I asked you to take this seriously.”

Glancing over Yoongi’s shoulder at the Passports you couldn’t help but laugh. Taehyung was an old ball.

In three days you would be boarding a plane as Bonnie Lui and Henry Clyde. A newlywed couple from an urban town in Busan heading to Gwangju. Where you would be meeting a young man named Hoseok in Jungnim-dong, a penguin eccentric village.

It was that night when Taehyung got a call from the neighbour, the ringing of the phone put everyone on high alert and Yoongi and yourself spared no time getting dressed. “Hey Tae there are vehicles coming towards your house, is everything okay?”

Taehyung sighed “thanks bob, keep your back door unlocked I will be there soon”

You looked at Yoongi and grabbed everything and took off through the fields.

You got to town and onto the first bus out of Daegu, as the sun rose you looked over at Yoongi his hair was dark and he was starting to grow a bit of facial hair. He looked handsome. He took your hand fondly, running his thumb against your wedding ring.

Before he slipped it off of your finger, “you should go, I can’t keep dragging you around because of my business. “You deserve a better life”

You snatched your ring back, tears falling. “Don’t you ever remove my ring again Yoongi I vowed in front of our families that I would live and die by your side no matter what and I meant it”

“You really want a life of paranoia, looking over your shoulder and wondering who around you is holding a knife ready to stab you in the back”

“Yes.” You said determined “if it means I am spending my life with you”

You were classified as missing persons and you tried your best to not get caught on your way to the airport. Once on the plane you relaxed significantly, feeling a breath of fresh air like you had done it.

Aiming to start a new life, to settle into a home again. For as long as the Bang mafia would allow you, of course, you knew one day you would have to move and you were ready. There were days where the paranoia took over, there were days where you saw suspicious figures.

One day you even woke up to men in your house, realising they found you again. But you were ready. You were always ready. You both did things you weren’t exactly proud of but you tried to stay pure given your situation.

It was just you and Yoongi against the world and you were in it for life, he was your ride or die and you really were the Bonnie to his Clyde.

[anoddkpopfan]

The Wine Cellar (Co-worker AU)

Words: 2.7k

This consists of: Daddy Kink, Dom!Jimin, Oral (male receiving), Dirty talk, You know, dirty stuff!

Synopsis: You’re an assistant who has a two year long crush on your boss’s secretary, Park Jimin. You believe it’s one-sided, but when your friend convinces you to hook up with someone else; Jimin’s real feelings might just come to light. 

It’s around nine o’clock pm, laughter and gossip fill the ballroom inside your boss’s house. Behind the uppity facade you can envision the thoughts running through your coworker’s minds. A great percentage of people came to this party to butter up to your boss, and you felt yourself holding back laughter as you watched your peers attempt to earn a pay raise or promotion in their ankle-length gowns and black tuxedos. 

What are you doing? Well, you’re sitting back and watching the show. You see, you are the CEO’s assistant. You have every other weekday to butter up to him, and you’ve come to this party for the free food and entertainment of watching people trip over themselves. You, along with your boss’s secretary (and the crush you’re too ashamed to admit), Park Jimin. The two of you planned to spend tonight mocking everyone earlier this morning. Though, you two weren’t as “alone” as you’d like to be.

Yeah, while a large percentage of guests made it their goal to get on your boss’s good side, another group of them were women looking for the opportunity to get into Park Jimin’s pants. After all, he is one of the more handsome men in the office with close ties to the CEO. He also gives off committable “vibes” considering that his body count within the office is nonexistent. Many of them were wary of you. You and Jimin have become awfully close in the last two years, and luckily you’re past your temporary Park Jimin obsession. Now you sort of admire him from afar, assuring his fangirls that the two of you are only friends. 

Though, you almost lost your cool the minute you saw him in his suit. 

Instead of a typical tux he wore a white collared shirt, along with a navy blue suit jacket and dress pants. He looked gorgeous, and he teased you the moment he noticed your eyes lingering on his appearance for an unreasonable amount of time. It wasn’t embarrassing or anything, the two of you playfully flirt quite often. In fact, many people in the office are convinced the two of you will get together one day. And of course, a part of you hopes they’re not wrong. 

You’d begun to zone out as you listened to a coworker list off all of the overtime he’d done this week to your boss. Jimin waltzed over to your side with two champagne glasses, placing one into your hands as he leaned against the wall next to you, “Are you going to thank me, or what?” 

You took the drink and raised an eyebrow, “For what? Trying to incriminate me? I can’t drive home drunk.” 

“It’s only one glass, sweetheart. No worries, you know I wouldn’t put you in danger.” Jimin pretended to ponder for a second, “Well, at least not with this many witnesses.” You playfully glare his way and he responds with a dumb smile that makes your heart melt. 

“On second thought, I shouldn’t drink this, it might be poisoned.” You held it towards him, and he unexpectedly moved closer to you, taking your drink and looking into your eyes as he took a sip from your glass, “No poison here.” 

He wanted a reaction out of you and he wasn’t going to get it. He walked past you, placing the champagne back in your hand before heading in your boss’s direction. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a second before opening them again. Your poor heart needs a break from this.  What you see next is a group of your girl friends motionig you over to them. You slowly (but surely) make your way towards them, but you weren’t sure why they wanted you over there. Your coworker Jung Yuna grabbed your hand, leading you over to the group of girls. Yuna hesitated for a second before asking you a question: 

“Y/n… we just wanted to know.. something is going on with you and Jimin, right?” Oh there was definitely something. But you weren’t sure about it all so you shake your head ‘no’.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” Another one of your peers, Jae Ina chimed in. 

You shrug your shoulders, “No, I’m not with anyone at the moment.” A smile came to Yuna’s face and she locked arms with you, she turned you around and your eyes landed on Mark Tuan. Another bachelor in the office, except his body count is a bit off the charts, he’s charming and intelligent, or so you’ve heard. 

“A little bird told me that Mark has been waiting for the day the two of you hook up. I’m just saying if you’re really not with Jimin, why not make tonight fun for yourself?” Yuna suggests. You have a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It’s not Mark’s fault, he is a handsome man, and you’re sure he’s good in the sack. But you couldn’t help but feel wrong about it.

“Well.. I, I guess it couldn’t hurt.” You mumble towards Yuna who nods her head at your words. Perhaps this Mark guy can bring you back into reality, and bring you out of this fantasy world where Jimin might just actually feel something for you. 

Mark’s eyes eventually wander towards your direction. Once the two of you make eye contact, he sends a smile your way, and you return it. He was talking to some of his buddies, he whispered something to them before putting his glass down and making his way towards your table. The girls at your table made eye contact before walking away, leaving you alone there.

“Y/n. I couldn’t help but notice you staring from across the room.” Mark immediately let out and you rolled your eyes at his words.

“It was only a quick glance, If anything.” You correct him before taking a sip of your glass. You soon remember the lips that touched the glass before and images of him flashed through your mind. 

Your eyes glanced to the side to see familiar eyes looking at you. Park Jimin was staring right in your direction with a confused look on his face. And you felt a fire erupt in you.

“A quick glance?” Mark said aloud, calling out your bullshit. Placing his hand on the table, moving noticeably closer towards you. 

“Fine.. I was admiring the view,” You admit, your hand sliding to onto his on the table, “Got a problem with that?” He shakes his head.

“I guess my little scheme worked? You didn’t notice the way I look at you, darling?” Mark asked and you shook your head.

“Try harder then, who knows? I could be yours before you know it.” You were sort of just humoring him, you weren’t sure if you’d actually hook up with this guy.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting this, I was sure you were..” Mark hesitated for a second, and you tilted your head to the side.

“I was sure you were Jimin’s girl.” You felt your heart nearly erupt at the thought of that title being yours. You knew you looked confused because he laughed at the way your face scrunched together in confusion. 

“Hey Marky, I’m going to need to steal your little girlfriend for a few minutes.” You hear a voice say. Jimin’s voice, though it’s a bit raspier than normal. He seemed as if he was almost disgusted by the sight of you and Mark together. A part of you considered that he might possibly be jealous. But you didn’t want to make up stories in your head.

“Ah, why? We were having a good chat.” Mark clearly didn’t want this to end. He’s been holding back on getting at you, and tonight could be the night you let him into your bed.

“Duty calls.” Jimin replied simply before walking away from the two of you. You waved to Mark before following after Jimin, confused on where you were going.

“Umm.. does the boss need me or something?” You asked him, confused.

“He asked us to bring up more wine. He keeps them down in his wine cellar.” Jimin let out flatly and you nodded your head at his words. There was an awkward silence between the two of you now, and it stayed that way when you two entered the cellar.

“He said grab anything, but the older the better.” Jimin told you. You nodded once again and went down on your knees to look at all the names of the wines, you picked up two and read the—

Click.

“What happened?” You asked, and Jimin let out a sigh of disappointment.

“The door locked, I let it close and it locked itself. Shit, the boss warned me about that.” Jimin ran his hand through his hair.

“Seriously Jimin? You Locked us in here? You had one job.” You put the bottles back and got up from your place and tried to open the door, surely enough the knob wouldn’t budge. Jimin sighed and put his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall. You tried your best but you couldn’t get the door open. This wouldn’t be so bad if Jimin hadn’t been acting so weird. You give up escaping and decide to look around the room instead. It looked like a library, except the shelves were filled with alcohol. There was a counter off to the side with a sink as well. You studied the bottles for a second. You reached for one carefully, but despite being careful it slipped from your hands. Instead of a crash you watched as hands caught the bottle.

“Be careful, would you?” Jimin warned you before putting it back in its place.

“My bad.”

“Maybe don’t touch anything.” Jimin suggested. 

“Well, I don't even have my phone. so I’m stuck in here with you and your shitty attitude.” You complain and Jimin scoffs.

“Wow, too bad it’s me, I’m sure you just can’t wait to get out of here so you can flirt it up with Mark Tuan.” Your eyebrows scrunch up at his words before you let out a sigh.

“You know what? Maybe I do. Mark is a man who knows what he wants.” You claim confidently, “Maybe you should learn a little something from it.” Jimin’s face drops. He moves closer and you step back until your back hits the shelf. He slowly moves his hand up to your throat, but you don't falter under his touch.

“You.. you really want a reaction out of me today, don’t you?” You don’t respond, you simply look into his eyes, a certain darkness evident in your eyes. Jimin’s hand moves from your throat to your back. He pulls you close with one arm while his other hand is placed against the shelf. Your forehead’s touch for a few seconds, and before you know it his lips are on yours. The kiss is so very passionate, two years of wanting each other put into it. You grip onto Jimin’s suit jacket, pulling it off, he moves his hands from their place to help throw it off. Once he puts his hands on the shelf again, he nearly knocks down some of the wine bottles. The two of you smile at this, Jimin decides to do this in a more convenient place, lifting you up and moving the two of you to a counter. Soon you’re on the counter with Jimin’s pelvis in between your legs. He litters kisses up and down your neck, and nibbles on your exposed collar bone. 

“that night at the bar.. what was it you told me? You’ve got a little daddy kink, love? Good, because that’s all you’re gonna be saying the next 20 minutes, Capiche?” You remembered that night, the two of you getting a little too drunk after a hard day at work. A night that ended with the two of you spilling out your darkest fantasies. But at this moment, you were still in shock of what was happening, so you let out a pathetic: 

“Huh..?” Jimin chuckled at your words. He pulled away from your collar bone, gripping onto your chin and looking into your eyes, “We’ve got about 20 minutes before the boss realizes we’re gone. How about we take advantage. Let me fuck you, right here, right now. In our boss’s home. What do you think about that, hmm?” That sounded like a great idea.

“Mhmm.” You moan out, he moved closer, practically whispering in your ear, “I need words baby, use your words.” You felt your stomach erupt in butterflies, and all you could think about is his member poking against your leg, and how badly you wanted it inside of you. 

“Daddy.. Yes, please, fuck me right here in our boss’ house.” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He let out before moving his hand to your back to softly unzip your back, “You sure? we could just wait this out so you can end this night with a mediocre fuck from Marky out there.” You shook your head quickly, cooperating with getting your dress off. 

“No.. it’s you.” Once your dress hit the floor you wrapped your legs around Jimin’s hips, pulling him closer, “I only want you, daddy. No one else.” 

“Love to hear it.” He whispered back, He took a second to admire you without your dress, he put his fingers on your panties, satisfied with how wet you were, “So beautiful, If we had all night i’d spend hours making you feel good.” His finger moved faster and your toes clenched as you let out little whines and moans at the feeling. The atmosphere was heating up, and Jimin had to unbutton a few buttons of his shirt. While he was distracted with this, you took it upon yourself to pull his member out from his pants. You softly ran your hands up and down his cock, Jimin bit his lip at the feeling, and his reaction resulted in your hand moving quicker. 

“F-fucking hell.” He stutters out, his hand gripping on your thigh, “Shit, I won’t be able to control myself. I want you to come all over my cock, gorgeous.” He whispered out, moving your panties to the side and pushing inside of you. The both of you let out sighs of satisfaction. Jimin started off slowly, slow but powerful. He pulled out just to slam back into you. It’s so embarrassing, but you couldn’t take it. Your crush of two years is fucking you in your boss’s liquor wine cellar for goodness sake. You felt so scandalous, and it turned you on even more. You let out a loud moan as you unexpectedly cummed all over him.

“Shit.. did you just cum already?” He asked, but the situation turned him on even more. He wasn’t going to stop. He wants to wreck you. Make you regret even speaking to Mark. 

“Daddy’s gonna speed up now, take me like a good girl.” Jimin managed to push even deeper into you, but his pace sped up. Your senses overwhelmed you since you just came, but you didn't want him to stop. Your moans got louder and louder and they wouldn’t stop. Finally Jimin covers your mouth with his hand. 

“As much as I love your moans, the last thing I want is someone interrupting us.” Jimin growls out. Since he silenced you, you got to hear his little grunts and praises the more he fucked you. You couldn’t take it, the noises he made made you feel like you were on top of the world. You clenched around him as you came again and this time Jimin moaned out louder than you. He rode out your orgasm before pulling out of you, “On your knees..” 

You wobbled off the counter and went down to your knees. You placed your hand on his member, trying to get him to release onto you. Jimin’s hand gripped on your hair. He moved his dick to your mouth and you opened up. Only to feel him shoot right into your mouth, “Oh.. oh fuck.” 

Jimin picked you back up, placing you on the counter. He was breathing heavily, and so were you. He kissed you softly before wrapping his arms around your waist. You hugged him back, and the room went quiet. You guys held on to each other for a few minutes. It felt amazing.. Being in each other's arms. 

“Y/n, you know... I kinda like you.” 

This all happened because of a fancam. :s

[lovelyirony]

this is just a re-do of a post with a prompt from anonymous, so don’t worry if it looks a bit familiar! 

As Bucky is running away from government agents trying to snipe him for killing a politician, he supposes Natasha’s argument for him being suicidal might have the tiniest bit evidence behind it, which he previously argued it didn’t.

As he slides underneath a car, he debates whether or not she’ll find out about this one. He feels a buzz from his phone in his pocket.

Yeah, she knows.

He shoots one of the agents, nicking him in the knee. Oof, that’s gonna be a fun story to tell his grandkids about why they can’t climb on his lap. But he needs to get away, and that involves potentially shooting through a car.

Potentially turns into definitely and there’s enough of a distraction that he can commandeer a car, drive at least ten blocks away, and ditch it to run on foot, calling Natasha.

“You got my location, right?”

“Of course, you fucking idiot,” Natasha curses. “You…god I hate you sometimes. The job’s at least done, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to lay low, though. Which sucks because my apartment is right in the city.”

“I already have a punishment and idea for you in one.”

“I…what is it?”

“Sam’s picking you up. Tell you when you get to base. Bye.”

Bucky groans.

She must be really pissed at him.

Sam picks him up in the shittiest economy car in the world.

“I hate you for picking this one,” Bucky groans.

“A stupid decision grants a stupid car, that’s why you’re getting picked up in the 1995 Ford Fiesta of shame,” Sam says. “Nat’s real mad. And I also think you’re going to hate your next assignment.”

Bucky’s not sure what’s gonna happen. He’s hoping he’s not on latrine duty.

-

Oh, it’s so much worse.

“Protection detail?” Bucky asks. “And undercover? All at once? Nat, come on. I bet we don’t even need undercover.”

“You both are doing undercover because you both fucked up,” Natasha says. “And since apparently you don’t know how to act, maybe this will get you better lessons.”

“Cold,” Sam hisses.

“I will legally ask you to shut the fuck up,” Bucky growls out.

He packs his things. Realizes that Sam got to choose the name so his name is Roger Stevens. Fucking shit. (Steve, of course, approved this. Because Steve is an asshole.)

“Why does she even need a protector?” Bucky growls out, driving to the house. It’s in suburbia.

“Because she fucked up and whoever she pissed off might send more than she can handle,” Natasha says.

“We’re hinging my being here on a ‘maybe’?”

“And because you got caught by government agents, which would be a rookie move,” Natasha says. “There’s a reason that I can still go my same nail salon for five years and now you have to get your hair cut somewhere else. And why you got a wedding china set and you have a backstory of being married.”

“I hate you.”

“A lot of people do, take a number.”

If it helps (and it mostly doesn’t), Sharon Carter is also not happy. She is in the house with the most dangerous look Bucky has seen.

“So I’m stuck in this fucking hell house with him?” Sharon asks.

Maria Hill is her boss. Woman is a scary, competent human. Bucky wouldn’t cross her.

(Then again, you also shouldn’t cross a certain redhead who could make you disappear within twenty minutes, maybe thirty if it’s a surprise. But he did.)

“Keys are by the front door, hope you know your address! Bye!” Natasha says. “Don’t kill each other or we lose the deposit!”

Maria Hill smiles. Of course the only time Bucky’s ever seen her smile is at the suffering of others. How typical.

So then they are left alone.

“Let’s read the cover story,” Sharon says. “And I don’t need protection, Maria’s just paranoid.”

Bucky snorts.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go with that.”

Sharon sends him a sharp look.

They meet while on a cruise.

Bucky fucking hates his life.

“A fucking cruise,” he mutters. “As if I would ever step foot onto any of those fucking–”

“We had a beach wedding?!” Sharon cries out. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it!”

They are both in a bad mood.

It’s also awkward because this is a house. They have decorations. They have tea towels.

And a neighbor comes to visit.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” she says brightly. “My name is Karen Tent, so lovely to meet you both!”

She then invades the house with her Tupperware. Literally speeds past them and it’s not like Sharon judo-chop her throat or anything.

“What a lovely house you two have!” Karen cheers. “Of course the color palette is a little bit drab, but I’m sure you’ll change that soon enough. When Linda told me we had new neighbors, I could hardly believe it myself, but here you are! Now, how did you two meet? Have you married yet? If not, I hope that you are living apart, you know.”

“The rings are in boxes,” Sharon answers smoothly, noting that they’ll need to ask Maria where the fuck the rings are. “You know how move-ins are. I’m Melanie Stevens, this is Roger Stevens. How nice to see you so very unexpectedly.”

“Well, that’s what neighbors are for!” Karen answers, her voice shrill as ever. “I brought over my famous cookie bars. Everyone says they’re good, and I believe they always are. Tell me Melanie, what do you like baking most?”

“Yes dear, tell her,” Bucky answers, smiling. “I seem to remember…lemon bars?”

“That’s right,” Sharon says, sending Bucky a smile. “They are really good. Just delightful.”

“Oh you’ll have to bring some over!” Karen responds. “Now, let me tell you a little bit about the neighborhood…”

She talks for a fucking hour. Bucky wants to drink. So badly. He saw the wine on the counter.

Sharon, to her credit, keeps trying to use certain “end” phrases. Karen either knows it and knows she won’t be budging, or will not ever take a hint in her lifetime.

“And you simply must not ever play loud music in your backyard,” Karen says. “We’ve had a couple of problems with the Richardsons, but nothing a few calls won’t fix.”

“You called the police?” Sharon asks.

“Well yes!”

“Oh my god,” Bucky mutters.

“I am sure that’s not exactly the measure I would have done,” Sharon says. “But I am tired and don’t want to get into it now,” she says quickly, noticing Karen’s “confused” expression.

“I say we need some time to rest, today is gonna be a lot of moving,” he says. “So nice of you to stop by, Karen. I’ll return your dish as soon as possible.”

Karen is ushered out the door, placated with two waves, and they both groan.

“I’m gonna fucking hate everything after this,” Sharon mutters. “My name is fucking Melanie. Maria knows…” she trails off, facing the very real boxes that were obviously packed with dishes and miscellaneous items.

Bucky finds four spatulas. He doesn’t know why there are four.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, noting the incredibly cheesy salt-and-pepper set.

“Welcome to married life,” Sharon says sarcastically. “We’re gonna have a blast.”

Dinner is spent with Sharon trying to convince Bucky that she’s “fine” and in “no danger” at all.

“Who did you piss off?”

“Sitwell.”

“Oh my god. You’re screwed.”

“He’s a lapdog, I’m not screwed.”

“He’s the lapdog of Pierce. You’re screwed.”

Sharon thunks her head on the table.

“Can we at least repaint the bedrooms? They suck.”

“If you think I’m sleeping in a separate room you’re dead wrong,” Bucky says. “You have a target the size of New York on your back. Uh-uh.”

“You will sleep on the floor and get out when I shower or change,” Sharon threatens.

“Of course.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

Married life is not so bad. Except when Karen and the rest of the neighbors tend to visit or talk to them for about fifteen minutes on the lawn.

“It’s your turn to cut the grass,” Sharon groans, flopping on the couch. “If I have to hear Kevin tell me one more time that you should be treating me better, I’m going to explode. He’s trying to lecture me on how to cut grass.”

“On it,” Bucky says. “Your turn to go get groceries, I ran into Karen and her kid last time. I think she wants me to stop buying so much hummus.”

“Not our fault it’s good,” Sharon mutters.

-

And then, of course, avoiding the various assassins that are sent out at random intervals and at public locations (including their own house) while convincing the neighbors that there’s nothing going on.

This involves pretending an agent of Hydra is their cousin.

“This is Jen, she’s visiting for the day!” Sharon says, squeezing “Jen’s” wrist hard enough to make her stay quiet. “We have so much to catch up on, you probably won’t see me or–or Roger again for the day! Ha ha!”

“Well where’s her car?” Linda asks, looking around the neighborhood. “I don’t see anything…”

“She’s a hippie environmentalist, she walked,” Bucky answers. “Jen, let’s go catch up in the house, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the agent squeaks out sadly, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

She’s delivered tied up in rope on the steps of Maria’s office with a note of “please stop this from happening we’re planting azaleas.”

Maria snorts.

Bucky starts to think they’re getting too attached to this. It’s been four months.

He started a garden. They’re growing tomatoes.

He also notices Sharon a little bit differently.

Because she drags him out of bed.

“Legally? You have to go to brunch with me. Illegally? You like the breakfast burrito too much.”

She’s scarily competent with anything that could be classed as a weapon. Or their groceries.

“Are you kidding me?��� Bucky yells at her as she throws the jar of tomato sauce. “I am not cleaning that up!”

“Tough shit!” Sharon answers, dodging a bullet. “It wasn’t even the good kind of tomato sauce!”

“It was fine, sweetheart!” Bucky growls out.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me in the middle of a battle!” Sharon yells. “Strictly after!”

“You’re the weirdest fucking married couple,” one of the agents wheezes out as Bucky is holding him as a sort of shield.

“Thanks,” they say in unison, grinning.

-

The punishment for them both doesn’t exactly turn out as planned, both Natasha and Maria agree. In fact, it is almost worse.

They are both reckless, subvert orders, and get along like a house on fire by the end of it.

“You can still be together, we just need the house back,” Natasha says.

“Thank god,” Bucky groans. “I get to stop being Roger and I get rid of Karen in one fell swoop.”

Sharon untenses her shoulders while she’s sitting at the kitchen table.

“Can I keep the knife set?”

“No,” Maria says. “I’ll send you a link to where I got it.”

“Why can’t I keep it if you can get another set?”

“Steal it,” Bucky stage-whispers. Sharon grins back at him.

“You have the best ideas, babe.”

“You are not stealing anything,” Maria scowls.

“Sure we aren’t,” Bucky says easily.

“You stole my heart,” Sharon sing-songs, knowing damn well it’s going to make Maria barf.

“Aw babe…” Bucky says, holding her hand. Natasha fake-retches.

“I hate you both,” she declares. “And I won’t be there for your actual wedding.”

“You made us tell people we had a wedding on a beach, were you assuming that you were getting an invitation?” Bucky asks.

Sharon snickers, getting the last of her bags out into the car.

“Where to now?” she asks him.

“I think that there are some apartments we can look at…”

-

“We’ve made a collective monster,” Maria decides, blinking. “We Frankensteined this.”

“We did,” Natasha says, staring at the house. There are still little bits of glass. An unfortunately busted can of beans where someone had been knocked out and they had “conveniently” forgotten to clean it up from yesterday.

Well. Sharon and Bucky are going to cause havoc on the world. Maria and Natasha just hope they can cover the other while doing so.

[kill-for-cookies]

Be for you

Dhawan!Doctor x Reader

Summary: On your first week at work, your boss called you. You felt a little thrill. And not by accident...

Words: 3446

Note: I’m not a big fan of Doctor x Reader relationship (I think, my works show it clearly), but Dhawan!Doctor... He’s just cute and soft boy. He deserves more love. Hope, you enjoy it!

--------------------------------------------------- Who would have thought that on the first week at work (after traveling with the Doctor) you would be standing in front of this door? In front of your boss' door. You weren't exactly jumping for joy. 

You didn't dare knock on the door. Your hand stopped halfway. It was so unusual. You weren't at work for a long time, because your adventures with the Doctor lasted for two months without a break. 

Although that was in the past now. You must return from the stars to Earth. Your schedule just required a few corrections. For example, cross out saving planets from monsters and add a daily boring, completely normal work. Easier to say than do. 

"You wanted to see me?" you hesitantly and shyly knocked on the door and looked into the office.

"Yes, come in, Y/N." 

Now you were inside. It was a nice office. There was a lot of wood here. Walls, table, bookcases. In addition, there was nothing extra. Mr. Peterson, your boss, stood at his desk and made a sign with his hand for you to sit down in the chair.  

You hadn't been here very often. You were an ordinary employee. Maybe it would have been better if it hadn't been for adventures among the stars and in different eras. That was why your chest was filled with confusion and thrill. 

"So, why did you call me? Did I do something wrong?" of course, this was unlikely to happen. After all, in fact, it was your first working week in a long time and you did everything as usual. 

"Oh, no. It is exactly the opposite" your boss had a nice smile on his face. You inwardly let out a sigh of relief. "You're doing your job well, but that's not why I called you. I wanted to know why you weren't at work for 2 months." 

Damn it. That was bad. You needed to lie. You couldn't tell him you were a time traveler. Besides, no one forbade you to ask the Doctor to return you a second after he took you. And he offered it to you, but you just shook your head. So it was partly your fault. 

"Well... I was traveling." 

That was the only thing that came into your head. You could have done better. But it wouldn't be so difficult to lie about it. After all, it was true. You just didn't need to say where... And when.

"Traveling? Where?" Mr. Peterson walked around you and stood behind you. You didn't turn your head to look at him. 

"Um... in Europe" actually, it was so. You were in Europe, but not in the 21st century... Well, there were adventures in space. "France, Spain, Germ..." 

You were interrupted. There was a strange sound in the room. It was like bones crunching or breaking. You turned in your chair, gripping the arms tightly. Mr. Peterson's head was shaking like he had a seizure... 

For the God's sake! It took your breath away, because you definitely didn't expect this. Something started to come out of his head... No, not something. It was the eye of a Dalek! A blaster appeared from his hand. Great! Your boss was a Dalek. Where did the Daleks get these ideas? 

Before you could jump out of your chair, you were blinded by a bright light. Head felt heavy and dizzy. After a second, everything went dark and you passed out. 

*

'Am I dead? Is this life after death? Why does my head hurt so much?' wait... If you were dead, how could you feel pain? And the floor was very cold, like metal.  

'So I'm not dead. But why am I alive? It was a Dalek. Isn't he supposed to kill everyone who isn't Dalek?'

So many questions and so few answers. Maybe if you tried to open your eyes, you would learn something. Like where you were or why you weren't killed. Your eyelids were heavy, as if they weighed several tons. But you overcame yourself and managed to open them. Vision was blurred and the room was spinning a little. Maybe you had a slight concussion. 

Okay, you weren't dead. There was a little doubt, though. The room you were in was completely white and empty. Very empty. There was nothing. No furniture (which made sense, since the Daleks didn't need it), no windows. Only white walls, floor, ceiling and door. 

Wait... The door! You ran up to it and pulled the handle. Unfortunately, the door didn't budge. You put a little more effort into it, but this didn't work either. This was useless. The door was locked and there was no way out of this situation.  

You weren't alone for long. The door opened and a Dalek entered. Normal Dalek. In a metal case. Who would have thought you'd be happy about this? At least, something normal... Well, as far as it was possible with Daleks. 

"You must come with me" a shiver went down your spine. Despite two years of traveling with the Doctor, you still were a little afraid of the Daleks. 

"Why must I?"

The Dalek ignored your question. He just turned around and walked out of your prison cell. Okay... To get answers you needed to follow him. Besides, you didn't have much choice. 

You followed your jailer through the corridors. The corridors weren't high. Not that you hit your head on the ceiling. This wasn't true. You didn't bend, but it wasn't so comfortable. 

And you were in a spacious room. It must have been the bridge of a ship. You stopped in front of big (bigger than the others) red Dalek. Obviously, he was in charge. You were surrounded by other Daleks, which there were many. Dozens. Hundreds. 

Yeah! You definitely couldn't escape. Even if there was one Dalek, you wouldn't be able to do it. The Doctor once said one Dalek could take over the Earth. So you didn't stand a chance.

"Why am I here? Why didn't you kill me?" you asked, suppressing your fear and taking your courage. You were just tired of being a lady in distress and shaking with fear. The Doctor wouldn't stay quiet, so you wouldn't either. 

"You will tell us where the Doctor is" the Supreme Dalek's thunderous voice rang out across the room. 

So that was why you were here. That explained why you weren't killed. Not so bad. But it turned out the Daleks knew you. Knew you were traveling with the Doctor. And it twisted your stomach. 

"What makes you think I know where he is?" you had no idea where the Doctor was. As soon as the Daleks realise this, they would kill you immediately. So you were going to stall. Usually, it helped the Doctor. 

"You are companion of the Doctor. You know where he is" that wasn't really how it worked. These were two completely different things. But the Daleks didn't need to know that. 

"And I'll tell you because..."

"We'll kill you."

Well, that wasn't exactly the best prospect. Of course, you didn't dream of it. But that wouldn't convince you to say (even if you knew where the Doctor was, that wasn't so). Of course, you were afraid of death, but you would never betray the Doctor... Wait! Oh, you got it. 

"You won't" the Supreme Dalek was clearly surprised. If he had a face, you'd see it. But it was clear enough. 

"Why? Explain!" The Daleks around you also shouted 'Explain!' 

"If you kill me, you won't find the Doctor" if this information saved you from death, then you would be silent. You didn't care you didn't know. 

"Then we will hold you as a hostage" apparently, you weren't the only stubborn here. The Daleks weren't giving up, trying to find some benefit from the fact they captured you. 

"That still doesn't answer my question." 

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. You were no longer afraid. Well, not exactly. The Daleks still gave you the creeps, but at least, they wouldn't shoot you with a blaster. Although you had no idea how to get out of here. 

"The Doctor will come for you" you only ironically smiled. 

The Doctor wouldn't come. You recently had a argument with him. In general, this was the first time. And probably the last. 

The Doctor brought you to a planet that (as you later learned) was ruled by a tyrant. Oppressed the people, restricted the rights and freedoms of citizens, constantly fought with other planets. A typical tyrant.

So you and the Doctor were in the lair of the Resistance, which was preparing an attempt to kill this tyrant. Of course, he was terrible ruler. There were no questions.

But killing wasn't right. The Doctor thought the opposite, although the Doctor you started traveling with would never have thought like this. Then there was a argument and you ended up leaving him. 

"Seriously? Do you really think the Doctor will come for me? So I want to inform you... you're wrong. He won't come."

"But you are companion of the Doctor..."

"Yes, it is. But the Doctor had so many companions that it's difficult to count. We travel with him and this is the best time of our lives. But it always ends. He leaves us and never returns."

Something slid down your hand, but you didn't pay attention to it. You wanted to finish your monologue first. Then you could check what it was. 

"The same thing happened to me. The Doctor isn't an idiot to come straight to you" you felt someone pulling your hand and quite hard. "Surely he has already found a new companion and is traveling with him or her. And I don't even resent it. Because that's his life. And that's why it was so painful for me to leave him."

The Daleks stopped paying attention to you and listening a long time ago. They were looking at something... or someone. You heard your name. These tins didn't know it for sure. So you turned abruptly to this voice. 

For the God's sake! You didn't expect this. Everything you said was true. You were absolutely sure. Didn't even exaggerate. But you were very wrong. The Doctor was standing to your left, holding your hand. You couldn't believe your eyes.

"Is it really you?" your hand went to his face to make sure the Doctor was real. But you uncertainly pulled your hand away, flexing fingers. 

"Yes..." a nice and sweet smile appeared on the Doctor's face. But it didn't last long. You slapped him with all the force and anger you had. 

"You idiot! You did what they wanted you to do. What for?" you were so mad at him. Sometimes the Doctor was so stupid, despite his age and knowledge. 

"Ouch! That hurt!" he put a hand to his burning cheek, rubbing it to ease the pain. "I came to save you and this is how you thank me?" you just rolled eyes. 

"Serves you right. I'm not worth getting you shot. You have other things to do. Saving the Universe, for example." 

"There's no point in saving the Universe if you're not there" after that, your carefully constructed walls collapsed. Fell apart. Scattered brick by brick. You couldn't be mad at him anymore.

"So you have a plan, right?" you stood half-turned to the Daleks, looking at the Doctor with hope in your eyes. He couldn't have come here without a plan, could he?

"Plan? For what?" his round eyes met yours. The Doctor looked surprised. Dork... Or maybe he was just playing in front of the Daleks? But he still was a dork. 

"To escape, of course."

"I thought it was just a friendly conversation. I didn't even take the TARDIS with me!" 

The last sentence was very loud. Even too loud. The Daleks definitely heard that. And it was definitely not done by accident. 

The TARDIS must be somewhere nearby. You carefully and attentively looked around, but there was no blue police box. So she was somewhere on the ship? No, not likely. That would be stupid. How would you find it then and why the Doctor said it so loud? Obviously, the Doctor came here on the TARDIS. 

What if... Of course, it sounded crazy, but it was the only explanation you had. Besides, after traveling with the Doctor, you realised many things were possible. You assumed the TARDIS was invisible. If you weren't mistaken, the Doctor mentioned a long time ago that did it once and ended up in the White house in 1969.

In any case, it would be difficult to find the TARDIS. But you weren't going to give up so easily. You tried to find the box with your hands, which you put behind your back. 

"So, why did you guys want to see me?" 

The Doctor clapped as he moved closer to the Daleks, who even moved away. Great. The Doctor drew all the attention to himself. You mentally thanked him, because now you had more time to find the invisible police box.

"Exterm..."

The Supreme Dalek didn't finish sentence, as the Doctor interrupted him. You couldn't help but smile at that. You missed it so much. This was so similar to your Doctor. 

"Oh, come on! It's been so long since we've seen each other. Why don't we talk first and then you try to kill me?" 

There was a pat. You prayed to all possible gods that the Daleks didn't hear it. Well, at least, they didn't pay enough attention. You finally found the TARDIS. Well, you groped. A few seconds after and the door handle was in your hand. 

"Although you are Daleks. For you talking and killing is the same thing" the Doctor walked up to you without turning to you. "Y/N, are you ready?"

You nodded and opened your mouth to say something, but you didn't have time. The ship tilted. You immediately realised it was time to act (apparently, an old habit from travelling in time and space).

You pushed an invisible door and stepped in console room. The Doctor came in after you and slammed the door. A second later, the sounds of blasters and Dalek shouts were heard. 

And now you were in the TARDIS again... Home again. You missed it very much. But you wasn't sure of what exactly. The TARDIS, adventures or the Doctor. The Doctor ran to the console, frantically pushing buttons and pulling levers. 

"What will happen to the Daleks? Why did the ship tilt?" you tried to catch up with the Doctor to see his face, but you couldn't. He was running around the console too fast.

"I just shut down the generator and engines beforehand, so their ship is falling." He finally stopped and gave you his brilliant smile. A sign that you should be impressed. You should, but you weren't. There was one unpleasant thing. More bad than unpleasant. 

"Falling? But the Earth is under it!" 

"Don't worry, they had a teleport. I just moved the ship to orbit of another planet" you just raised an eyebrow at this remark. Not because you didn't believe, but because you was curious where exactly. "Skaro, planet of the Daleks. Decided to bring them home."

The Doctor came closer to you and let out a deep breath. Apparently, he was afraid to say the next sentence. Was afraid you'd say no. It's like he was in a minefield and stepped on one, instead of talking to you.

"I... I'm sorry. Really sorry. I was awful. When you left... I wasn't worthy to be called as the Doctor..." 

He smiled, looking at you for a few seconds and studying your face, which showed no emotion. His eyes were glazed and filled with tears, so he looked away as if ashamed. 

"Teach me to be him" it was barely above a whisper. 

You stared blankly at the Doctor. It hurt to see him like this. He never cried... Well, at least, you didn't see it. And it pricked your heart. He cried in front of you. Doctor. Cried. The one the Daleks were afraid of and whole armies fled. 

"Look at me, please" your hand went to his cheek and a faint smile spread across your face. 

The Doctor only raised his eyes. There was regret and pain in them. You were trying to figure out why. You didn't say no to him. Silly.

And that was probably why you loved him. Very much. You just realised the Doctor was more than a friend to you. Being away from him for a while (even if it wasn't long) showed you that. 

You looked at the Doctor and he looked at you. It was like you had a silent conversation with him. Without words or telepathy. And it must come to end, because you did something. 

You closed the distance and kissed him, pulling his face closer with your hand. You felt something wet on your cheeks. It must have been his tears... Or yours?  

You two were crying. You missed each other so much. Adventures together, reading in the pleasant silence of each other and looking at the stars in the doorway of the TARDIS. None of you had any idea how painful the separation was.

When you pulled away, you just noticed how his hands were on your waist and yours on his shoulders.

"So you..."

Before the Doctor could finish, the phone rang. Someone wanted to contact you. Your cheeks are flushed and red with embarrassment and shame. You bit your lower lip. Whoever it was, you hated him or she very much right now. The moment was ruined. 

"I need to answer it."

You were out of his arms. Didn't want to, but you had to. For you it was sad and offended. You took your phone out of pocket and looked at who was calling you. It was Anya, your sister. You took a deep, heavy breath and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" you were silently cursing Anya and hoping it wouldn't take long. "Well, I finally got through to you, Y/N. I'm at your door. Where are you?"

"Um... What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about our movie night. Have you forgotten?" damn it! Movie night. You were so ashamed, because Anya stood at your door and at this time you were in the TARDIS, millions of light years away from your apartment. 

"Nooo. Of course, not" even from your voice it was clear this wasn't true. 

"You're somewhere else, aren't you?"

"Yes..."

"Ugh! Y/N, seriously?! We haven't been able to gather together and watch some movies for half a year."

"Listen... I don't know how to tell you this..." 

You looked back at the Doctor, who was watching the phone conversation. You didn't know before whom you were more ashamed. Before the Doctor for interrupting such a moment or before Anya for making her stand at your door. 

"You went on another trip with your mysterious boyfriend that you don't want me to meet. I already understood" but the irritation in her voice was gone. Now there was... Curiosity? "So you made up with him? Oh, so our little Y/N learned to cope with difficulties."

"Anya!" 

Your sister often liked to annoy and tease you. Although this strange way she showed she was caring and you knew it. But it didn't mean you liked that. 

"Okay. But seriously, I'm happy for you. I'm just warning you if there isn't movie night next time, I'll break your boyfriend's nose."

You just rolled eyes and looked at the Doctor again. You were hoping that if he met your sister, it wouldn't be under these circumstances. 

After saying goodbye to Anya, you headed for the door leading to the center of the TARDIS. But before you were halfway there, the Doctor stopped you by grabbing your wrist and looked at you questioningly. 

"What? I want to change clothes. Office wear isn't very comfortable on the beach. Or on Spa planet" you tried to say it seriously, but your smile gave you away. 

After that the Doctor released your hand, almost jumping with joy that you were staying at the TARDIS. 

You could feel his eyes still studying you. Apparently, the Doctor was trying to answer questions that came up after your conversation. 

You were trying to find answers, too. You both still had to figure out what happened before the phone call. What it was all about and how far it would go. But this would remain for another day. Now you needed to relax. 

[orionwhispers]

Beware Of The Dogs - Part III

(A/N - here she is lads, part 3 of BOTD, there will be one more part after this! sorry for any mistakes i am half asleep and cba to double check everything. pls let me know if you enjoyed it, you are my world.)

Part I

Part II

The winter was cold, and you often felt as if the frost might swallow you whole, but one look at Alfie and your heart thawed and melted into a puddle. The weeks passed by quickly, a mixture of tangled bodies, muffled giggles, soft touches and Alfie made sure to lay his claim on you like footprints of pure snow. You were entranced by one another, devouring each other in a sickly sweet way that no one who knew Alfie would ever believe, he’d bark orders and pistol whip a man at work, then come home to you and touch you like your body was made of glass, like you were the most precious thing that he had ever seen.

You were tentative at first, dipping your toe into the waters of your relationship, timid and apprehensive, not wanting to accidentally push him away. You had never done anything like this before, and you were treading lightly, not wanting to break the surface and plunge into the deep, losing everything you held dear. You spent weekdays working with your head down, trying to avoid the distractions of a certain man that lingered in your brain for far longer than he should. Alfie told you his house was always open for you, and you sincerely believed him, but you couldn’t stop the nagging thought inside of you that you should keep your distance for a while.

Alfie was not a man of grand gestures or sentences that weren’t filled with expletives, but he realised that he liked having you around, he loved seeing you on a Sunday after you had spent the night and he had to rush to the office to sort whatever shit had gone wrong in his absence. He loved coming home when the sky was still blue and you were curled in his armchair, wearing nothing but his shirt, Cyril curled at your feet, the whole room smelling of you. He loved the way you looked at him when he came through the door, happiness and concern in your eyes, asking him about his day, genuinely caring about his answer. He could tell you were hesitant, the way that you declined his offers to stay the night on a working day, how on a Sunday you would take everything home with you, no toothbrush left beside his as a token of your presence, no clothes in his drawer that made his smell like wildflowers and honey.

The next Monday as you strolled into work with tired eyes and a soft smile, you rummaged in your pockets for your notebook, frowning when you instead pulled out an envelope. Inside was a key with a note attached, scrawled with broken handwriting that simply said,

“In case you miss Cyril.”

The gift was so small but the gesture was so grand, a token that contained an unspoken promise, that he wanted you around, and he trusted you.

He got antsy quickly, his own worries prickling into his skull like bullets. He was paranoid, convinced that someone would take away the treasure he had finally found. He tried walking you home after work every day, leaving his workers watching with curious glances as their boss who usually stayed until well after midnight was rushing out as soon as the clock struck five. He’d wait outside your office, far enough away that he wouldn’t be noticed by prying eyes, but close enough that he could observe the street and those who walked it. The first few times it was sweet, tugging on your heart strings that he cared enough to escort you back to your flat, but it wasn’t long before you were greeting him with an exasperated smile and a roll of your eyes.

“Alf, I’m a big girl, I can walk home by myself.” You’d say, standing on your tiptoes and planting a syrupy kiss on his jaw in an attempt to disarm him, letting him know you weren’t upset but remaining firm on your viewpoint.

“No girl of mine, right, is going to walk the fucking back streets of London alone.” He replied, trying to stop himself from buckling at the tiny kisses you were smothering him in, he had barely been without you for eight hours and yet he craved you like a cigarette. He tried his best to stay unwavering, knowing that it would be completely counterproductive in his attempts to keep you safe and out of sight, but he couldn’t help the hot desire to take you into the back alley and have you up against the wall.

“Alfie.” You sighed, running your fingers across his face and cradling his jaw so that your eyes met, “You’re so thoughtful, but I don’t need an bodyguard every night. Besides, it’s hardly the back streets, this is one of the safest parts of town.” You knew that you were being stubborn, but you wouldn’t budge, you finally found some freedom and you weren’t going to go back to being followed, you needed your independence, and even your feelings for Alfie wouldn't change that.

He grumbled something that you couldn’t quite comprehend but you took it for a begrudging agreement, watching the way his hat tilted with the movements of his head. You kissed him in thanks, smiling when he pushed back against you playfully, reminding you of a child that didn’t get their own way.

“But you better call me OK? When you get in, to let me know that you haven’t bloody tripped on the ice or fallen down a drain or something.”

You rolled your eyes once more, nodding sarcastically at his relentlessness.

You’d work on it.

————————————————————

You fell into a routine, something so beautifully romantic that it almost made you nauseous. You laughed more than you had in years, drank rum until you saw stars and talked about everything and nothing until the sun rose and the birds whistled. The streets belonged to him and now so did you, his power and authority evident whenever he walked into a room, and you admired him, longing for the sparks that lit up your skin whenever he touched you.

On Sundays he made bread. You’d watch him, legs curled up and hazy eyes following him under the morning sunlight. He’d make thick sourdough and rich rolls filled with and seeds he’d purchased from the foreign market by the river. He rarely spoke, history hands moving expertly, kneading and folding and rolling the dough, it seemed so intimate, a side of him that he never showed the outside world, and you felt privileged to witness it.

The soft glow of daybreak would illuminate his features, making the usually burly man look soft and gentle, something that made your stomach do cartwheels. The kitchen would be filled with the smell of sweet and comforting warm bread, flour covering his hands and the surfaces, white fingerprints like marks in the snow. When it was done he’d tear off the dough with his hands, smothering it with jam and butter and handing it to you, oblivious to the teasing glint in your eye.

He’d make enough for the whole week, wrapping loaves in brown paper for you to take home, your whole flat smelling like him and tantalising warmth. You’d smile to yourself at lunchtime as you sat behind your small desk, Alfie ingrained in your mind as you took a bite of your sandwich, thoughts of him occupying your days rather than the paperwork that sat incomplete beside you.

By Saturday, whatever was left would be fed to the ducks in Regent Park. You’d stand by the edge of the pond, tearing the crust from the stale loaves and tossing them towards the mallards and geese that danced by your feet. Alfie would watch, a wide smile gracing his face as he watched you squeal like a child when a swan lunged towards you, ivory coloured neck thrusting towards the goods in your palm. Cyril would get overexcited, ignoring Alfie’s stern words and your pleas as he leapt into the water, the birds scattering and cawing in distress, icy droplets soaking you both. Alfie would pull you under his arm, laughing into your hair and swearing at the dog that bounded by your feet once again, shaking his wet fur and drenching the both of you.

You’d return home, your clothes wet and your feet cold, barely pulling your boots and stockings off before Alfie hoisted you over his shoulder, not caring about the inevitable pain on his lower back that would come tomorrow, only focused on dragging you upstairs and having you underneath him and warming you both up. The fire would flicker and the logs that had been left in the damp would hiss and tear from the heat, crackling like gunfire around the small room. You’d be in his arms, skin to skin, his fingers tracing the length of your spine, your chin resting on his torso.

You covered apple slices with cinnamon and sugar, baking them into rich pies and eating them cross legged by the fireplace, your head in the crook of his neck. Mornings were filled with sweet coffee and baked bread and the evenings were spent with drives at sunset, the city lights illuminating your skin, his cockney accent rough in your ear, his laughter infectious. You felt like nothing could dull your high, the rush that overtook you like a wave, dragging you under the surf, Alfie the reason that you felt electricity in your veins, but at as always, something shattered the perfect bubble you had created, shards of glass lying at your feet.

It was a Wednesday, and you were in Alfie’s cottage having spent the better part of a week curled up with him already, any attempts to go back to your flat were fruitless as Alfie would pull you back under him, mumbling excuses that were pitiful but more than enough to persuade you to stay. You were making a thank you dinner, using up whatever baffling ingredients Alfie had in his cupboards and some fresh meat and vegetables you had purchased on your way home from work. You were slicing carrots, careful not to nick your finger as you simultaneously studied a cookbook, and tried to keep Cyril from stealing any stray food.

You heard the moan of the front door and the familiar clatter of boots on the tiling, your heart pounding at the noise.Cyril immediately left your side, bounding into the hallway to greet the man he loved the most. You heard the commotion, the dogs soft whines and Alfie’s appreciative grunts, the thump of his cane on the floor as he walked through the foyer.

“Dove?”

“In here!” You called, glancing quickly at the clock, “You’re home early!” You felt his presence and spun around, your eyes meeting.

“Yeah, I’ve had a shit fucking day right, but er...” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close, his pupils flicking to your lips, his mouth upturned, “It’s a lot better now.” You started to roll your eyes at his cheesy line but couldn’t as he dragged you closer, pressing his lips onto yours, his hands roaming over your body. The feel of you enough to temporarily wipe the anger from his brain, allowing himself moments of peace from his battling thoughts.

You pushed him off you quickly as you heard the pot overheat, flames rising and water bubbling from the surface. You swore, turning down the gas and grabbing a cloth, wiping down the counters and trying to restore order in your once peaceful workstation. Alfie watched as you rummaged around the pantry, and he pulled the lid from the pot, looking down at the potatoes boiling inside.

He clicked his tongue, “What’s all this, pet?” He asked, a teasing hint to his words.

“It was supposed to be a nice dinner, but someone came home early and ruined the surprise.” You said, swatting him with the tea towel in your hands.

“Isn’t that sweet.” He winked in jest, but you knew that he was beyond grateful for your gesture “Well, it smells fucking good, right, you ever thought of becoming a chef?” He asked playfully, swiping a carrot and dodging as you went to hit him again.

“I tried, but all the restaurants turned me down,” You teased, “I was far too overqualified.”

He laughed, resting at the table, legs askew and shirt untucked, a stark contrast to how he left in the morning. You continued cutting, the rhythmic sound of the knife was just enough to ease the tension in the air. You could see the cogs in Alfie’s head whirring, and noticed the psoriasis on the sides of his face were inflamed, something that you had come to realise happened from stress.

“What’s got you all in a tizzy?” You murmured, turning to look at him, his features illuminated in the dim light.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” He cleared his throat, extending a leg and playing with the salt shakers on the table, letting a few grains hit the ground like fallen snow. “Just these stupid fuckin’ gypsies right, think they fucking run the joint.”

Your heart stopped, feeling like all your blood had drained from your body, like you had completely deflated inside. You regained your composure and mentally slapped yourself, inhaling and exhaling quietly, trying to regulate your breathing. There are plenty of “gypsies” around, you told yourself, drilling it into your skull, pleading to the universe and hoping it wouldn’t be so cruel.

Alfie was oblivious to your inner turmoil, too caught up in his own anger to notice you quietly steaming, “Coming in to my territory, acting like big fucking men?” He laughed, “And you wanna know the worst of it?”

You let out some kind of strangled noise of agreement, covering it with a cough, focusing on cutting and slicing, cutting and slicing, anything to take you away from the conversation.

“Tommy fucking Shelby, wanting to do business with me? Ha! What a fucking liberty!”

The knife went through your finger.

You yelped under your breath, watching crimson bubble and pool onto the chopping board, the stinging relentless, but no match for the dread rising in your stomach. You hissed and covered the wound with a tea towel, wrapping it so tight that your fingers grew numb. Alfie’s head perked up at the distraction, spotting the blood travelling down your hand and he jumped at the sight, standing next to you in an instant.

“Oh fuck. What the hell happened, Pet?” He covered your palm with his, his eyes full of concern and surprise and you fumbled out an excuse, practically tripping over your words.

“The knife slipped. I don’t know how it happened but the knife...” You stopped, and Alfie pulled you over to the table, sitting you down on a chair and gently inspecting the gash on your hand.

He clicked his tongue, yanking on the chain around his neck and looking down at you through his glasses, under any other circumstances you would have giggled at the sight, but right now you just felt sick.

“Right, well. The good news is I won’t have to amputate, but the bad news is it looks pretty fucking deep, no worry though dove, I’ve got some bandages and whatnot somewhere, I’ll get you fixed up, good as new.”

His fingers clasped around your face, gently pulling you to look at him, you tried your best to act nonchalant but your entire body had lost feeling, you felt like you were watching yourself through the window. He dragged his forefinger across your cheek, stroking it softly and looking at you with round, caring eyes.

“Bloody hell, Pet. You look peaky. Let me get you some chocolate or something, how about some rum?”

You nodded, watching as he disappeared into the hall, rummaging around and muttering under his breath. Cyril approached and laid his head on your lap, sighing and nudging you with his nose. You stroked him absentmindedly, clenching your wounded hand and feeling the blood trickle down your palm. The pot bubbled and hissed, overflowing with hot water once more, but you left it to boil over, your mind completely elsewhere.

That night you hardly ate, Alfie watching you like a hawk as you pushed peas around your plate, flattening them under your fork and watching them explode. You had completely lost your appetite, your mind filled with dark clouds, panic settling in your gut. Alfie asked if you were alright, and you once again lied to him, saying that work had been overwhelming and that the sight of blood made you feel faint. He accepted your words but you could tell he didn’t quite believe them.

He told you to stay, he wanted you next to him so he could check you were okay. You pushed back, hazy excuses that you had an early start and you needed a good nights sleep, Alfie just swallowed your words, nodding his head. He drove you home, one hand on the wheel and the other just grazing your thigh, as if he was anchoring himself to you ever so slightly, not willing you to drift into the tide that was fast approaching.

You kissed him, softly, on the side of his mouth, not allowing yourself the maddening feel of his lips against yours. You pulled away quickly and he felt as if he had been scalded, your eyes met for the briefest of seconds but you looked away, ashamed.

“Goodnight, Alfie.”

With that you left, bundling yourself in your coat and darting up the stairs to your flat, not looking back because you knew it would break your heart. You slipped into your home, bare and cold and empty from the days you had spent beside Alfie rather than in your own bed. You crawled under your duvet and pulled it over your head, letting a tsunami of warm hot tears rush over your face, leaving you gasping for breath.

Alfie looked at your front door, his foot hovering over the pedals. His tongue was between his teeth, biting down just hard enough that he could start to taste metal. He wondered if he should follow you, bang on the door and demand for you to speak to him, not leaving until he got the truth and you were back under his arm. He dealt with problems methodically and systematically, he knew how to work as a business man, and there was rarely a puzzle he couldn’t solve. But now he was dealing with emotions, trying to stop the flare up of anger that usually approached when something wasn’t going his way, trying to navigate the magnetic pull you had forced on him, and for the first time in a long time he felt out of his depth, unsure of his next move. He pressed down on the clutch, the car rolling forward, the headlights shining on the cobbles.

Fucking women.

—————————————————————

For the next few weeks, you avoided Alfie like the plague. You loathed yourself for your actions, you knew you were being pathetic and childish and cruel, but it was so much easier than facing him.

Tommy had been here. In London. In Camden.

He had sat across the table from the man whose bed you had been sleeping in for the past few months, and had tried to make a business deal with him. Everywhere Tommy went trouble followed, which meant that now Alfie was going to be swept up in the storm that seemed to only occur around your family.

Above anything else you wanted to tell Alfie the truth. He deserved that more than anything, you knew that, but the words crumbled before you could ever get them out, even when you were practising in front of a mirror. The truth was, no matter how you explained your actions to Alfie, if any of your brothers caught wind of the fact that you were in London, you would be driven back to Birmingham before you could even blink. If anyone found out who your siblings were, what they were capable of, they would use you as a way to get to them, the same way they had threatened to your whole life.

You couldn’t risk Alfie getting hurt because of you, fraternising with a Shelby would put a target on his back and a bullet in his head. You didn’t care about yourself, you had been dealing with your own bounty since the Blinders had been formed, but you refused to let him get dragged down with you. There was also the nagging thought that if you came clean to Alfie, he would accuse you of being a mole or a rat, accuse you of working undercover for your brothers and simply using him, and the mere thought made your eyes prickle with tears.

You couldn’t tell him the truth because it was too dangerous but it also wasn’t fair to keep lying and stringing him along like some kind of puppet. So you did the only thing that made sense to you, which was to distance yourself from the man you were falling for, and once again you felt utterly, entirely alone.

You arrived at work early, surviving off of coffee infused with milk and sugar and you made sure you were the last to leave, only when the sky was dark enough that you could hide in the shadows. You only saw him in the flesh once, waiting outside of your flat after five days of no contact, you darted back to the office, inviting your friend Mary out for dinner, spending the night at hers instead. You were a coward. The phone had finally stopped ringing, you didn’t sit on edge behind your desk wondering about surprise visits or impromptu meetings. You knew that it was easier if he hated you, but that didn’t stop the ache in your gut at the feeling of him not by your side.

It was a Wednesday when you noticed things were amiss. You were playing with your food, peeling off the crust from your toast as you sat curled up on your windowsill, cold feet pressed against the radiator. Watching the stars was a distraction from the pity party that seemed to happen whenever you were alone, and you traced the constellations with your finger, your eyes growing blurry and you dragged them to the pavement to try and clear them,

You noticed the car again.

It had been there since you had left for work in the morning. It wasn’t one of the other tenants, all of their vehicles were lined up haphazardly below, and this car seemed far too swanky for the postal code you lived in. You moved slightly out of view, shielding yourself behind the curtains as you looked down. You could just about make out the silhouette of a man sat behind the steering wheel, eyes trained on your building. You glanced at the front door, doubling checking that the chain was still across, bolting it shut, and then you grabbed the curtains and pulled them closed, the whole room going black.

By morning it was gone, but it still left you unnerved, so much so that as you walked to work you swore you were being followed, you felt as though you constantly had eyes on you. You sat through work with a twisted stomach, wondering if you had been caught out, in the evening you darted home, slipping through back alleys to get to your flat, but still the feeling never left.

On Friday you took the morning off, walking to the markets to buy breakfast and to try and not to let your anxiety get the better of you. The air was frigid, light rain dancing on the wind and leaving tiny droplets on your clothes, you shivered into your coat and tried not to think about what you really wanted to warm you up instead. You avoided the bread. If it was warm and soft and came out of an oven you steered clear of it, turning your gaze to the fruit and the small jars of handmade jam.

Once again, as you mulled over apricot or raspberry marmalade, you could feel the heat of an unwavering stare on your back. The hairs on your neck stood on end, and you tried to casually look over your shoulder to catch a glance of who was watching you so intently, you only saw it for a split second, a hint of black that darted into the crowds as soon as you saw it, but it was something. You put down the pots, slowly walking towards where you knew the stalls thinned and the streets narrowed, hoping you would get a definitive answer as to whether you were actually being followed.

Down an alley, through an open garden and finally behind a fence, you stood completely still, waiting for the telltale echo of footsteps following you. The figure was moving quickly and you could hear him groan in frustration, and as soon as he passed you, you leapt from your hiding spot and grasped him by the shoulder.

“Ollie?!” You yelped, recognising the young boy immediately. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Me? What about you?” He replied, shrugging you off and straightening his coat, gesturing to the empty alley you were stood in.

You scoffed, “Have you been following me?”

He didn’t answer, suddenly finding the ground much more interesting than the conversation you were dying to have. You poked his shoulder gently, suddenly having a rush of memories of teasing Finn in the exact same way.

“Look, in my defence you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“Yeah, you did a really good job of hiding it.” You said sarcastically. “Why were you even doing it? I thought you were -” You stopped, not allowing yourself to continue and potentially dig an even deeper hole for yourself.

He rubbed the back of his neck, pursing his lips. “Alfie wanted to keep an eye on you.”

“An eye on me?” You repeated, demeanour faltering. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He just wanted to make sure that you, you know... were okay.”

“Well that’s not his job.” Your voice raised, suddenly feeling extreme deja vu.

“Well he’s been doing it for months now so I didn’t think you would mind.” He retorted, pitch matching your own.

“Months?” You were shocked, mostly at the fact that you had been so oblivious, the only explanation was that you had been so dizzyingly infatuated with Alfie that your mind had been completely clouded.

“Yeah, but can you blame him?”

“Well I...”

“Look, it’s none of my business but, you knew what you were getting involved with. I mean, he told you about what he does didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I know, but...” You trailed off once again.

“So, why is it so bizarre that he wants to make sure you don’t get hurt?”

“It’s not bizarre. I just don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Just because you had a falling out doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

You raised a brow, genuinely curious. “A falling out? Is that what he said?”

“Well, not exactly, he’s not a man of many words.” He stated and you nodded, “I don’t know what happened between you but Alfie, he’s... I’ve known him for a long time and I’ve never seen him like this, it’s strange and honestly I’m a little worried.” His face paled, “Don’t tell him I said that.”

You smiled softly, but your heart was pounding in your ears at his words. “I didn’t want to hurt him.”

Ollie shrugged. “All I know is that for the past two weeks he’s been upset about something.” He lifted his hand for you to inspect, three of his fingers wrapped in gauze. “Yesterday he nearly amputated my hand because an order hadn’t been filled, and that was him on a better day.”

You shifted. You felt uncomfortable under Ollie heated gaze, but you had no explanation or reasoning to give him because you truly didn’t have anything that would explain your behaviour.

“I’m sure whatever he did, he’s sorry for, but like I said, he’s not a man of many words.”

“He didn’t do anything.” You admitted.

“Then why are you not with him?”

“It’s not as simple as that.” You gestured with your hands, trying to convey all the emotions in your decision, but it was clear Ollie didn’t agree.

“Isn’t it?”

You sat behind your desk, sucking on a boiled sweet you had found at the bottom of your purse, the caramel flavour a pleasant distraction from the stress migraine brewing behind your eyes. You had barely done any work since returning to the office, instead dawdling and ringing your hands, running over different scenarios in your head.

The truth was you missed Alfie. When it came down to it, you truly missed him. You missed his voice, his hand in yours, the way that his arm cradled around your body as if it had been carved there. You missed his lips, the weight of his hips against yours, the intimacy you had never had with anyone else. You missed his wit, the pads of his fingers and the wiry hair around his mouth, your cold skin missed the warmth of his fireplace and your fingertips missed the feel of his scars and his tattoos under you.

You missed Cyril.

You stayed until long after you should have gone home, you told your colleagues you wanted to call some clients before you left, but instead you sat in silence. Before you knew what you were truly doing, you grabbed your coat and purse and ran through the front door, locking it quickly and making your way down the streets.

The bakery was still filled with workers, steam rose all around you and the smell of sweet bread was all too familiar and all too heartbreaking. A few eyes snapped up to you as your heels clacked against the floor, but as soon as they reached you they fell back to the floor, nobody lingering on you for too long. You passed them without thought, hurrying down the stairs and into the warehouse below. It was dark, the lights were dull and the heavy machines around you hissed and spat, it was much quieter down here and you knew that this was off limits to the rest of the workers, Alfie only allowed people he trusted to this section of the distillery. And that had once been you.

Your footsteps were numbed by the echo of noise around you, and you paced across the floor looking for Alfie’s office, but when you found it, the door was ajar and his seat was empty. His big black coat and tall hat were still hung up, and the weather outside was much too frigid for just a shirt, so you knew he had to be lurking somewhere.

You walked past barrels and barrels of rum, roaring furnaces and crates that were bigger than you, eventually ending up in a part of the warehouse you had never seen before. At first glance it was empty, and you were so dejected you were about to leave until you heard a low grumble and a “Fuck.” from the ground that made you stop in your tracks.

Your heel rang out as it touched the floor, and the noise made Alfie’s body stiffen. He was lying underneath a copper contraption, his head completely covered, only recognisable by his stocky legs and the gold chain you could just about make out snaking from his shirt. He was screwing something together, multiple tools strewn about the floor beside him.

“Ollie? Go get me another fuckin’ wrench, boy.”

“Not Ollie.”

His head jolted up so fast he smacked it against the metal, cursing loudly once again and manoeuvring himself from under it in a swift motion that made a breath get caught in your throat, his body suddenly in front of yours.

“Right, well, I can see that now.”

He allowed his eyes to drink you in for a few seconds, relief and annoyance and hunger flashing in his pupils for the briefest of moments, before he pulled them away. He was covered in grease, staining his white shirt and the sides of his face, but he still made the words jumble inside of your mouth. He was avoiding you now, and you couldn’t blame him, he turned his back to you and started to pick up the fallen equipment, wiping them down with a rag. The tension in the air was palpable, and you hated that you were the reason for it.

“I...” You inhaled, stopping your voice from going shaky, you aren’t a child, you shouldn’t act like one. “I wanted to apologise.”

He shot you a look, curiosity and anticipation in his sapphire eyes.

“I’m sorry, Alfie. I haven’t been fair.”

You could see the darkness under his eyes, his hands were scabbed and red, evidence of a fight on his knuckles. The skin on his cheeks were flared and his hair was tousled, he looked like he hadn’t slept since you last saw him.

He remained silent and that just made you more anxious. You started rambling, not sure what your end game is but knowing that you hate the cold shoulder he’s giving you.

“I don’t have an explanation. I just... I just think I got scared.” You shook your head, pleading for your eyes to stop watering, you felt pathetic, especially as Alfie simply took in your words, no emotion on his features. “I should have told you. I shouldn’t have just left and ignored you, that wasn’t fair of me and, and... I miss you, Alfie, and I’m sorry.”

He kept fiddling with the wrench in his hands, keeping himself busy. His lack of response made your body feel rigid, but you understood. You chewed on your bottom lip, begging for him to say something but feeling unsurprised when he doesn’t. You turned on your heel, wringing your hands together, your eyes prickling and your throat thick.

“Goodbye Alfie, thank you. For everything.”

“Do you do this often then?” He said finally, you spun around, and catch the smallest sliver of a smile on his face, if you blinked you might have missed it.

“Do what?”

“Run away from your problems?”

You smiled gently, thinking of the reason you’re here in the first place. “Yeah, actually, I guess I do.”

“Right, well, that’s a habit we’ll have to work on, innit.” His voice was playful but firm, and he stepped towards you, smelling of rum and green apples and cut grass. He moved tentatively, cautiously, inches apart from you now, reminiscent of the first time you kissed, always so careful with you.

“Are you angry with me?” You asked, lips ghosting over his.

“I was, right, but how can I be? When you come in ere’ looking like that?” He looked down at you, so small under his looming frame, so angelic and ethereal against the blood that stains the floor and the sins committed in this very room. Truth be told, he had spent the last two weeks seething through his teeth, he was adamant that he never wanted to see you again. His blood had constantly been boiling, his fingers clenched and his voice snappy, but even he knew that his anger was a front for the hurt that he felt inside. He really fucking missed you, but the last thing he was going to do was trail after you like some fucking puppy, and he had made up his mind that not even you were worth the trouble, and if he ever saw you in the flesh again, he would just walk the other way.

But then he saw you again.

You had made him look like a fucking mug, and yet as you stood looking up at him through your eyelashes he realised that if you asked him to burn the distillery down he wouldn’t hesitate to light the first match. He felt like a fucking pussy, even just admitting that to himself, but you had him wrapped around one of your tiny little fingers without even trying. He brushed a loose curl behind your ear, and he knew that he would give you anything you wanted, do anything you wanted, if it meant he got to touch you like this.

“And Cyril, he misses you.” He said playfully, wanting to put an end to the pathetic thoughts in his head.

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, walking around all mopey like, with his tail between his legs.”

You met his oceanic eyes.“I missed him too.”

He smiled, his fingers trailing along the edge of your jaw, manipulating your movements. He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to your own, wanting to convey more in his kiss than he could ever say out loud. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you backwards, your feet grazing his own. Your back met the cool metal behind you and it made you momentarily gasp. He caged you in with his arms, teasing kisses across your lips, having to stop himself from moaning at such a simple act.

He glanced down at you, eyes flickering over your features. You’re both dazed and drunk and he says the only words that come to mind when he looks at you.

“So fucking pretty.”

You blushed, leaning to hide your face in his neck but he stops you, full of lust and hungry, smashing your lips together, your teeth clashing in the frenzy. You let out a groan, and his hands ran along your body, suddenly hoisting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. You want to tell him to stop, scold him about hurting his back, but you can’t do anything other than fall onto him.

“Alfie.” You giggle, his lips all over you, possessive and wanting and greedy, desperate for the feel of you after so long. “Alfie, what if someone sees?”

“They won’t, but if anyone comes down I’ll shoot the bastard, alright?”

You laughed in reply, but he’s being sincere, he wants to be the only person to see you this way. He laid his claim on your neck, marking you in such a primal way, it’s hardly been two weeks and yet he’s devouring you like it’s been years. He isn’t stupid, he knows that there is a queue of men that would kill to be in his position, and the thought spurs him on, the mere idea of another mans hands on you is enough to drive him insane.

You try to be rational, try to muster up the strength and be the bigger person and remind yourself about the mess you are in, but you can’t, not when Alfie is kissing you and touching you and making you feel the way he does. You couldn’t avoid him, that much was certain. He had a hold on you, tight like a collar around your throat, one that you couldn’t shake loose. Your plan had been smashed to smithereens the moment you stepped inside the warehouse, if you were stronger you would stop him and tell him everything, but instead you just let his hands wander up your thighs, his lips silencing you.

Winter passed in a blur of snow and ice and naked trees, Spring finally arriving in blooming flowers and blue skies and newborn lambs. Everything fell back into place the way you left it, your lives separate in the streets but always connecting at dusk, linked together under the stars. Alfie hadn’t even mentioned the dreaded Shelby name in months, his business booming and dealing with the coppers in his own city rather than worrying about the gang up north. From what you gathered Tommy hadn’t tried to get in contact with Alfie since the first meeting, and you counted your blessings every day.

You were swept off your feet with ecstasy. Your job was going brilliantly, you had made new friends, ones that slotted in perfectly with your new life. They never questioned your past, just happy to dance and drink and laugh with you. But it was Alfie who crafted the smile that seemed to constantly be on your face, it was him who made you snort with laughter and sigh with happiness. Your days and nights were filled with mutual obsession, engulfing you both like a riptide. He brought you out of your shell and you brought him to his knees, rendering him completely weak at just the sight of you.

The days soon heated up, your skirts become shorter and Alfie’s eyes wandering higher, which led to you almost always being late for work. You spent nearly every night in Alfie’s cottage, sharing dinner and stories and a bed. Alfie had mentioned on three separate occasions, that perhaps it would be easier if you just moved in with him or as he so delicately put it, “Most of your shit is here anyway, why not just bring it all, eh?” Even though his words were teasing you knew he meant it, and Alfie wasn’t the type of man to do things on a whim, but every time he brought it up, you refused.

As much as you wanted to spend every moment with Alfie, your flat was the one thing you had ever owned, and it felt like a token of freedom for you. You compromised however, by filling up one of his spare drawers with your favourite dresses and skirts, and putting your night cream and perfume on his basin. He noticed them almost immediately when he came home and made a spectacle of pretending to trip over the heels you had placed next to his work boots, and moaning about the clutter. But you saw the gleam in his eye and the way he pulled you impossibly closer when you both crawled into bed.

The truth almost came out on a Friday.

It was the peak of summer, when the air was so thick and warm it was like swallowing honey. Your hair was pinned back, droplets of sweat sticking to the nape of your neck, your small office suffocating you. Your fingers darted across the typewriter, pen in between your teeth as you tried to remember your train of thought, your mind clouded from the heat. Three sharp knocks on the door made you jolt, biting down on the metal in your mouth and splattering ink across the table, you swore quietly, murmuring a flustering and incoherent “Come in!” as you tried to clear the mess.

You looked up, noticing Jenny, Edmund’s assistant. You smiled, but faltered slightly at her bemused expression.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes! Er... Edmund said you can leave early.”

You paused, resting on your elbows as your eyes flickered down her face for any kind of explanation, but she continued looking at you expectantly, wringing her hands together like a child.

“Have I done something wrong?” You asked, suddenly feeling your palms sweat and throat constrict, your mind racing to whatever mistake you could have possibly made.

“No!” She said, almost tripping over her words to reassure you, something slightly out of character for the usually demure woman. “Everything is fine! He says you deserve some time off.”

“Right, well,” you continued, “That’s very kind of him, but I have so much work to finish and...”

“No he insists! He says to take a long weekend, come back on Tuesday!”

“What?” Before you could even question her properly, she left, the door creaking from the speed of her movements. You sighed, placing your head in your hands and running your fingertips through your hair, desperate for the relief of the air. Half of you wondered if you should ignore Edmund, his bizarre gesture surely having some kind of motive you weren’t sure you wanted to know, but the other half of you longed to leave the confines of your desk.

You pursed your lips, ignoring the mounds of paperwork beside you and smiling gently, thinking of all the things you could do with Alfie with your newfound free time. You considered stopping by the bakery as you folded your things into your purse, wondering if you should visit the deli he liked and treat him to lunch, but as soon as you left the intensity of the office, you stopped dead in the street, everything suddenly making sense.

“Mr Solomons” you scolded gently, unable to fight the smile that graced your features at the mere sight of the man.

His car was askew on the opposite side of the street, expensive and glossy against the cobbled stones below. Cyril’s large head was lolling out of the window, his tail thumping against the front seats as he spotted you.

“Rosie.” Alfie greeted, with a toothy smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. He looked happy, his hair was loose and he was in a white cotton shirt, his gold rings glinting under the light of the sun.

You practically skipped towards him, your skirt bouncing to your knees, air whipping around your legs. He leant out of the window, swinging his arm and coiling around your waist, pulling you close. He grinned as he kissed you, not caring about the people that might see, his mouth hot and his clothes smelling of patchouli and sandalwood.

“Alfie. What on earth did you say to my boss?” You asked with a playful, quirked brow. You toyed with a ringlet in his hair, Cyril whining in the backseat, the big dog desperate for your attention.

“What? What makes you think I said something?”

“Well, the fact I was just offered a long weekend for the first time since I started is quite telling.”

“And that means, right, that I had something to do with it?” He replied incredulously, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Alfie.”

“Fine! We had a little chat is all, just about how hard you’ve been working, and how nice it would be for a little time off.”

“Oh God,” You groaned, resting your head on his arm. “I’m going to lose my job aren’t I?”

“Fuck no, not unless he wants me to come back and have another little chat.”

You playfully slapped his shoulder, squealing when he pinched the skin on your elbow, pulling you closer.

“You gonna get in the car or what, love?”

You rolled your eyes, walking around the bonnet, Alfie shifting across the seats and holding the door open for you as you teasingly curtseyed in response. As soon as you sat down on the hot leather, the fabric sticking to your thighs, Alfie kissed you again, both of his large hands cradling your face. You giggled as you felt Cyril sniffing your ear and turned around to stroke his soft head, cooing at him as he wiggled with glee. It was then you noticed the navy trunk stuffed haphazardly in the boot, the cuff of a shirt sticking out.

“You going somewhere Alf?”

“Not just me, right. I’m not that bloody lonely, Pet.” You flicked the side of his face, and he smiled, leaning into your touch. “Besides, what would you do all by yourself, you’d be bored out of your nut, probably get into some trouble if I wasn’t around, and we can’t be having that, can we?”

“Alfie, I...” You tripped over your words when the fact that he was taking you away for the weekend sunk in, his gesture so thoughtful and kind and sweet you practically melted into a puddle but you still felt hesitant. “What about work? What about my flat? What if -”

“Here’s the thing,” He said, cutting you off, twisting the key in his hands and letting his car purr to life. “I happen to know, right, that you’re off until next Tuesday, so don’t even start, OK. I know exactly what you’re gonna say before you even say it, but don’t worry, old Alf has everything sorted. Not just a pretty face, love.”

He played with the hair above his mouth, teasing it with his hands as he navigated down the street. The sun lit the inside of the car but it was no match for the warmth in your stomach, you leant over the gear and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, leaving a pink mark in the shape of your lips. You watched as he tried not to react, but his mouth twitched ever so slightly, his eyes sparkling.

“Thank you.” You mumbled into his flesh, and he reached over and put his hand on the bare skin of your thigh, squeezing softly. You looked in the rear view mirror and at the trunk, Cyril using it as a makeshift pillow as he curled up on the seats.

“Wait. Did you pack my cardigan, Alf? You know the lavender one?”

“Well, actually, I packed everything I thought you would need, and turns out, you don’t really need a lot.” He murmured, turning the steering wheel.

“But you packed the clothes in my drawer, right?”

“Well if by clothes you mean your pretty undergarments and the like, then yeah, yeah I did.”

“Alfie!”

____________________________________

Margate was beautiful.

He had rented a house by the sea, so close you could watch the ocean waves tumble and roar from every window. You felt sand under your toes for the first time since you were a child, the grit clinging to your body and sticking to your feet. You and Alfie sat side by side on a striped towel, sharing chips and stories, you wrapped under his arm and Cyril chasing seagulls. He kissed you under the full sun, open mouthed and greedily, the beach empty for miles. You laughed when you got caught in a wave with Cyril, hoisting your skirt and dancing in the surf and Alfie swore that he would die a happy man if that was the last thing he heard.

That evening, the sun was setting, the sky a dreamy tangerine and your feet bare as you waded through the grass with your heels in your hands. You were watching the colours above you, filled with good food and warm wine as you and Alfie headed back from a restaurant, his eyes never leaving your body as you tiptoed across the fields, looking completely angelic.

“You know what you remind me of?” He said finally as you slowed down and let him meet your pace. His voice was strong amongst the chirping crickets and birds that nested in the trees above and you let it wash over you like silk.

“What?”

His arm snaked around your waist, lifting you ever so slightly off the ground, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck and nuzzling his nose across your flesh.

“One of those fuckin’ gypsies, right? You know, running around a caravan with flowers in your hair and shit?”

You felt your whole body stiffen. Your grip loosened around your shoes, but you willed yourself not to drop them. You allowed Alfie to pull you into his body, adamant not to let him realise something was wrong, you couldn’t let your nerves control you again. You could feel Alfie was about to continue so you silenced him with a kiss, taking the words straight out of his mouth and making him turn to putty in your hands as you all but dragged him back home.

That night as you both laid under rumpled bedsheets, the radio lulling a soft tune and the stars twinkling outside your open window, Alfie nudged you with his knee. He left the room and you watched with drowsy eyes, yawning into your palm. You could hear him rummaging in the hallway and you breathed in the scent of your intertwined bodies as you relaxed under the duvet, your eyes closing ever so softly.

“Ah, fuck!”

You sat up, a sleepy grin on your features as you blinked under the soft lights. “Alf? You alright?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe!”

You chuckled, falling back into your cozy cocoon just as Alfie hobbled back into the bedroom. You felt his calloused fingertips tracing along your nose and collarbone, and your eyelids fluttered open. You whined and burrowed down deeper, groaning at the distraction before squirming as he placed a cool palm on your lower stomach.

“Don’t you dare fall back asleep.” He muttered, before clearing his throat. “I got you something.”

You opened your eyes and hoisted yourself onto your elbows, “Alfie.” You said, looking him in the square in the face. “You’ve done enough already, you don’t need to give me anything.”

“Will you just be quiet and open my present?” He asked, shifting closer to you and handing you a small velvet box.

You toyed with the brass clasps, staring him down. “Alfie... I don’t deserve all this.”

“Well, we have very different opinions then, innit?”

You smiled, the thump of your heart rivalling the sounds of the waves outside your window. You pried the box open, stroking the fabric under your fingers, letting out an audible gasp as you saw what was inside. It was a gold chain with a dainty “A” charm hanging from the middle, it was simple and beautiful and you could already feel the tears prickling in your eyes. Alfie was watching you hesitantly, his fingers running in circles on your knee, the day before he had argued with a client and had a gun to his head, but he felt a million times more anxious now.

“You like it?”

You leapt over to him, straddling his waist playfully and collapsing on top of him, careful not to aggravate his back. You kissed him hard and passionately and then soft and gently, wanting to memorise his taste and feel and smell, wanting to remember the moment forever.

“I take that as a yes then?”

You pressed your nose against his and Alfie felt as if he was in heaven, he swore his heart would give out from the way it was pounding, and the dizzying effect you had on him was stronger than a line of snow. You were ethereal and radiant and more than deserving of the gold he had given you, he would rob the fucking Queen if it would make you happy. He inhaled somewhat shakily, knowing that he had to man up and just tell you the words that were currently trapped in his mouth.

“You make me feel alive.” He said, “For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe, and I...”

You felt weightless, like all the air in your lungs had turned to smoke. His features were so familiar under the light of the moon and your heart was lurching in your chest at his honesty. You could see he was struggling, he kept his feelings under lock and key most of the time but his actions spoke a million times more than his words ever could.

“I love you, too.” Four simple words, but you both exhaled with relief. This was it, the final nail in your coffin, you were his and he was yours. You kissed again, the kind that made your knees buckle and your blood rush and the world still around you, feeling like you were the only two people on the planet, feeling untouchable. You pulled away, running your finger across the chain and resting on your knees, still straddling his lap.

“Can you help me with the clasp?”

He nodded, and you turned around so that he could fasten the clasp, watching as it dangled perfectly around your neck.

“Yeah, well, this is a magic necklace right?” He said, “When you put it on, you have to take something else off.” He tugged on the end of his shirt you were wearing, shooting teasing glances at the skin underneath.

You laughed as he hooked his arms around your waist sending you toppling onto the mattress, his lips were claiming any skin he could find and hands were clumsily unfastening your buttons. You sighed and wriggled around him, your legs wrapping around him, suddenly not feeling tired at all.

The rest of the weekend was magical. The sun never seemed to stop shining, rays of light dancing across your face from morning to night. The ocean was cold and salt water followed you as you moved, sand on your scalp and grass stains on your knees. You felt like you were living out a fairytale you had dreamt of in your youth, but only a thousand times better.

You watched the sun set and rise again from the shore, your feet soaked and Alfie moaning about getting his trousers wet. You ate and drank and forced Alfie to slow dance with you on the tiles in the kitchen, pulling him close as the radio hummed, the world slowing down all around you. You shared sliced peaches on the balcony, reading a book with your legs on his lap as he rifled through the newspaper, occasionally making a snide remark about something he found particularly distasteful. You walked Cyril through the woods, his gingerbread coloured hair shining brightly, something about the open fields and lack of people making Alfie more vulnerable, talking about his childhood as you held his hand.

Even when you returned to the bustle and smog of Camden, you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. You both resumed work and fell back into your domestic routines, but the love and intimacy of your getaway still clung to you both. It was just as hot in London, perhaps more so with the bustle of people and the fumes from the factories all around you. No matter how clouded the sky could get though, you were Alfie’s own personal ray of sunshine. You were a blur of freckles and raspberries and paint stained fingers that had somehow whirled into his life, and he couldn’t believe his luck.

You made jam together, jars and jars lining the shelves, the room smelling of overripe fruit and sugar. You’d visit him at work, helping him with errands, your neat handwriting contrasting with his rushed scrawls. You’d both laugh long into the evening, the kind where you ran out of breath and your ribs ached with exhaustion, and when you finally recovered enough, you’d crawl onto his lap in the dark and watch the stars.

He was so used to being angry, he used to feel as though he had a storm cloud brewing above his head, one that followed him like a shadow. Happiness didn’t come easily to him, he liked order and control and he didn’t have time to live in a fantasy. Somehow you had shattered his illusion, completely turned his world on its axis and bent it to your will, and he didn’t have any complaints. When business got tough and his hands were bloody and raw, when nobody fucking listened to him or the sharp pains in his spine became overpowering you were the one thing that could make him feel whole again. If he ever felt lost, drifting out to sea, you would command him back to shore and he would lose himself in your light, shutting out the darkness.

Life continued at a steady, dreamy pace. You and Alfie spent almost every morning and evening together, whether you were sitting in comfortable silence or talking till the sun rose every moment spent together was bliss. You playfully bickered, he could be jealous and over protective and you could be stubborn and ditzy but you balanced one another out perfectly. You and Ollie became close friends, the young apprentice falling for your charms despite his initial hesitance. The boys at the bakery knew you, and they knew not to look for too long or sport a black eye the next day, but everyone treated you with respect and kindness.

You still had all of your privacy though. Alfie liked for you to be kept out of business for your safety and you agreed in case you got tangled up with your past, so you managed to find a balance. Alfie trusted you more than anyone, but he kept the nitty gritty details to himself, never wanting to worry you. Which is why you didn’t find out that Tommy and Alfie had kept in contact, and the two of them had tried to find a middle ground for dealing with Sabini’s men. Whilst you had been living in a blissful bubble filled with roses and sweet bread and long kisses, your brothers had been setting The Eden Club alight and slashing the faces of those who stood in their way. As you went for midnight drives, watched foreign movies at the pictures and slept in your boyfriends arms, Tommy had been striking a deal with him, the pair of you only separated by a few streets.

Everything came to a head when the leaves starting turning brown. The air was getting cooler and your socks were getting thicker and your hair was almost always tousled by the wind. You were on your way to the post office to drop off some paperwork for Edmund, but you wanted to drop by the bakery and see Alfie. You knew he had a busy week ahead with new workers and he had left some documents at the cottage that you thought might be important.

The bakery was filled with unfamiliar faces but rather than get caught in the crowd you made your way towards the back exit, hoping to catch Alfie at his desk. The machines were roaring, the air smelling of sour whisky and rich dough, you were distracted, counting the stones beneath your feet, until you heard something that made your entire body stiffen and your heart stop.

“(Y/N?)”

You hadn’t been called that in well over a year. It seemed so unfamiliar that it took you back for a few seconds, the name bringing up so much unwanted nostalgia that you almost vomited on the spot. You gathered yourself as quickly as you could, determined to find the source that had blown your cover.

You spotted him immediately, fiery red hair and pale skin, memories jolting through you like electricity. The shock made you speechless, but he filled in the silence.

“(Y/N?), fucking hell. What the fuck are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since - ”

You ran towards him, shoving your hand over his mouth and pushing him to one side. His eyes practically bugged out of his head, completely bewildered at your rudeness.

“Don’t. Please.” Was all you could muster up, the room was empty save for a few stragglers hoisting a barrel from the floor, but you couldn’t take any chances. You felt him nod under your palm, and you slowly removed it, your breathing shaky.

“Jesus. What are you doing here? Nobody’s seen you in... Tommy is going to lose his marbles.”

You shook your head, sirens roaring in your mind, your hands slick with sweat. “No, no, Billy, you can’t, please.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” His eyes hardened, “Is it Solomon’s?”

“No. It’s not what you think it’s... complicated and... I’m not in any danger, I promise.”

“How can you say that? Look at where you are!”

You could feel your perfectly crafted world start to crumble beneath your feet. If Billy Kitchen told your brothers your whereabouts there was no doubt that before nightfall you would be bundled in a car and driven back to Small Heath. You tried to come up with some kind of explanation or plan but instead your eyes fell to his waist, and you inhaled sharply at his apron.

“You work here? Oh God.”

“Tommy made a deal with Solomon’s. Bakery boys and Blinders are working together, he’s sent a bunch of us down here to deal with shipments.”

He reached out and grasped your shoulder, the severity of the situation hitting you both. Billy had always been a good friend, not just to the family but to you. He could always talk some sense into your brothers if they got too in over their heads, he was a great mediator with a kind heart, but this was all far too overwhelming.

“Listen.” You said, your voice firm. “This is my life now, I’m not the same person I was before. You can’t tell Tommy,” He looked down, shaking his head and your voice cracked. “Please, Billy, you can’t.”

“What part of ‘Fill it out and fuck off’ do these fucking gyps find so hard to understand? I mean, fuckin’ hell Ollie I - ” The sharpness of his tone cut through the air like a blade, and you pushed Billy’s arm from your shoulders and took a step back, desperate for some distance.

“Rosie?” Alfie strode towards you effortlessly, his hand snaking around your waist and pulling you into him, the motion possessive and a clear warning to Billy, whose mouth was agape, his eyes trained at yours. “What the hell are you doing here, lass?”

You could hear the slight strain in his voice, he didn’t like you wandering around the warehouse alone, he didn’t trust anybody else around you and he certainly didn’t like the redhead who was staring you down.You squeezed his palm gently, directing his attention away from Billy and towards you, trying to ease the tension.

“You left these.” You handed him the documents and his mouth twitched, determined not to show any weakness in front of his men but also thankful. You could feel Billy’s eyes practically scorching a hole into your head, your mouth was completely dry and you couldn’t feel your limbs, it was as if you were floating in the middle of the ocean.

“Well, I don’t know what the fuck Tommy Shelby does in his business but I don’t fucking pay you to stand here and gawp at my woman. Get out of my sight, Kitchen.”

There was no more hiding it. If his thumb rubbing the side of your waist wasn’t indication enough, Alfie had just confirmed your relationship to the person that could ruin it with one simple phone call. Billy turned on his heel, not wanting to face Alfie’s wrath but also inwardly fighting with himself, his loyalty drifting from his comrade and friend, Tommy, back to you, the girl he thought of as a sister.

You managed to catch his gaze just before he left, pleading with your eyes, desperate for him to listen to you, he held your stare for a moment and offered the smallest of nods, and you felt your insides twist into a knot unsure of what he would do next.

“Fucking imbeciles, the lot of em’.” Alfie pressed a chaste kiss to your crown, before clicking his fingers rudely at Ollie, a habit you would usually scold him for, but all of the fire inside of you had turned to ash.

“Right, Ol, walk her back to work, eh? I’ll see you tonight, Pet. Wish me luck with these half wits.” He winked at you as he left, so unaware of the uproar around him, so unaware of all of the lies that you had spun and the tornado you had directed at him. Ollie tapped your shoulder softly, pulling you from your hazy mind and guiding you towards the door.

All you could do now was wait.

Days passed and you were anticipating a blow that would shatter your world, but nothing happened. Tommy didn’t turn up at your door, Arthur and John didn’t appear when you walked to work, Billy didn’t try to follow you home with an army of Blinders.You had bitten your fingernails down to the nub, red and raw welts of skin on your hands as a sign of your anxiety, but you were tired of living on edge.

You carried on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. You were more cautious, knowing that you would have to stop your unannounced visits to the bakery and there was a greater risk of running into a face of your past on the street, but you refused to let paranoia rule your life. At the end of the day, after a long bath and a glass of rum, as you sat on his lap in the arm chair by the fireplace, Alfie would tell you little snippets of his day. He often left out the undesirables, like the arguing and beatings that had occurred, but from what you could gather the new employees weren’t causing him any trouble. He didn’t mention meeting your brothers, made no sly digs about any new deals or double crossings and so you naively assumed that everything was fine, that perhaps you could continue living in your fantasy.

Whilst you were trying to rebuild the pieces that were scattered around you, whilst you attempted to regain some normality from the shock you had of seeing Billy, Alfie was preparing for his own war. He had met with Sabini, the man he loathed was at last speaking some common sense, the Italian had struck a deal with him in exchange for an alliance against Tommy, and Alfie couldn’t refuse.

Alfie was a brilliant business man, cunning and authoritative and quick witted, but this was the first time he had something to lose. His love for you could be seen as a weakness, your kind eyes and gentle smile were a rarity amongst the murk that surrounded him. He had to be clever, he had to be calculated, he had to make sure the crown on his head didn’t slip. He had to make sure you were always protected.

That’s why he invited Billy and Arthur around for Passover. The table was set and the candles were lit and plates of food were piled high. Alfie mulled over the taste of wine on his tongue, he ran his finger along the barrel of his gun tucked securely in his waistband, watching the men arrive. He didn’t feel regret as he slashed the throat of the goat he had brought, he knew that it was a sacrifice for a bigger cause. He didn’t feel regret as he shot Billy in the head, crimson splattering the walls and his shirt, dousing him in sin. He didn’t feel anything as he tied up Arthur and called the police, telling them to arrest an innocent man. He only thought of you, waiting for him at home, ready to celebrate with him.

You swore loudly, pulling out the lamb joint you had prepared, wondering why the oven was smoking suddenly. You rifled through pages of Alfie’s cookbook, biting your tongue and trying to restore order in the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you’re smiling at.” You said to Cyril, who was waiting patiently for you to drop something on the floor.

It was your first Passover and whilst Alfie had made a full feast of traditional food, you had wanted to attempt the Zeroah. You knew he had a business meeting, he wasn’t going to be back until mid afternoon and that gave you enough time to fiddle around with dinner without Alfie watching you. The kitchen smelt warm and sweet and like home, a word that had never had much meaning to you, until now. The air was brisk and the sun was starting to set and you watched the birds fly across the sky from the kitchen window as you made the finishing touches.

You heard rattling from outside and perked up instantly, leaving the meat to brown you skipped to the hall, ready to greet Alfie. As soon as the door opened you stepped back in shock. He had tried to clean himself up as best as he could, but with the rush of the police and everything else he had only managed to wipe his face, blood staining his clothes. He had taken the back exit and driven straight home to you, but his eyes widened when he realised how scared you were.

“It’s alright, Pet. It’s not my blood.”

The splotches were darkening like spilled ink, tainting the cream of his shirt. “Oh my God, Alf.” You ran to him, pulling him apart with your fingers, desperate to find any open wounds or bleeding cuts. “Are you hurt?”

He held your face in his palms, his hands chilly from the air. “No, I’m alright. I’m alright.” He dragged you into his chest, careful to not smudge your face with blood, wanting to hold you against him for a few minutes. After a while, when both of your pulses synched and your breathing was regulated, Alfie stroking your hair and humming slightly, you stepped away.

“Is this some kind of Passover celebration I didn’t know about?”

He laughed, loudly, shrugging off his coat and boots. He just wanted to forget the events of the morning, he just wanted to eat and drink and be with you. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You murmured, hurrying to the bedroom to grab fresh clothes and a flannel. Alfie picked at the food on the table, moaning loudly and complimenting you, his over enthusiasm making you smile.

When you returned, Alfie was bent over the kitchen sink, washing his hands. You tapped on his shoulder, making him spin around and smile and you stood between his legs. You started to unbutton his shirt, pulling the fabric from his frame revealing his taut, tattooed stomach. Throwing it into the wash basket, you held the flannel under warm, running water, a question mulling on your tongue.

“Whose blood is it?”

Alfie’s fingers tangled in your hair as you ran the cloth across his skin, his thumb making the same movements on your scalp as yours on his torso. The room was silent for a few seconds, Alfie wondering how much he should tell you, weighing the options in his head.

“Billy Kitchen.”

The flannel hit the floor and you stepped backward, tripping over your own feet. A droplet of water trailed down Alfie’s chest, hitting the waistband of his trousers.

“Oh my God. Is he alright?”

“He’s dead.”

The shock of his words hit you like a bullet in your gut, the blood staining your boyfriends hands that of a man you had grown up with. You weren’t naive, you were well aware of the kind of man Alfie was, the kind of things he did, but now those he killed weren’t nameless of faceless or people you had never met, now it was a friend. “Oh my God. Oh my God, Alfie.”

“It’s Ok, it’s alright, nothing is going to happen to me.” He stepped forward tentatively, trying to comfort you but you stepped back, thinking of Tommy and Billy and every fucked up lie that’s come out of your mouth. You imagined Alfie with a hole in his head from one of your brothers and bile hits the back of your throat.

“What... What?” You could barely speak.

“I’m not gonna go down for this, everything will be fine.”

“What? Who will?”

“Arthur Shelby.”

You retched, gasping for air and placing your head in your palms. You don’t even want to ask Alfie if he’s alive, the thought of your brother in a coffin is enough to make your heart stop and your head pound. “What? What the fuck? Oh God, Alfie. What have you done? Please tell me he’s OK.”

You were in tears, nails digging into your flesh, and Alfie watched you, completely bewildered. He expected you to be upset, but not like this. His skin is hot and he feels as if he’s been set alight, your concern for another man making his blood boil and he can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

“Now why the fuck, right, would you care about some stupid fucking gyp?”

“Because he’s my brother!”

The words came out before you could stop them and you covered your mouth when you realised just what you have done. The look of betrayal and hurt and confusion on Alfie’s face will be the reason for a million sleepless nights, the ache inside of you clawed at your organs and in that moment you truly loathed yourself.

“What?” His voice was so impassive and it snapped your heart in two. There’s no point dragging out the inevitable, you had to face the music and own up to the lies you have strung.

“I’m a Shelby.”

The air froze around you. You could feel yourself drowning, as if you were choking on salty, icy water. He inhaled so sharply it sounded like a gunshot, and you had to stop yourself from looking at him, knowing that you’ll collapse if you do.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Never had Alfie spoken to you in a way that wasn’t kind or playful, and the tone in his voice made you want to curl into a ball, but you know that you deserve it. “So you’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?”

You shook your head, stepping forward and biting your tongue when he moved back.“Only about my family, Alfie. Everything else was me, I’m still the same person.”

He scoffed, refusing to look at you, refusing to feel the tear in his heart at your wet face and red cheeks. “So what was the plan then? Come in like a little sweet thing, get my fucking guard down and rat me out to your brothers?”

“No. God, no, Alfie, it was never like that.” You said honestly, “I swear. I... I didn’t even know who you were until we met. I had no idea Tommy was even...” Explaining yourself feels so futile, you can’t take back the betrayal and the deception no matter how much you want to.

“I can’t even fucking look at you.” His eyes were red and glistening under the candle light and you hated yourself more than ever. You’ve never seen him cry, not even when glass got stuck in his wrist or you poured alcohol on his wounds after a fight, and knowing you’re the reason is as punishing as a death sentence.

“Alfie, please, please, I love you.”

He just shook his head, turning away from you. “Get the fuck out.”

You don’t know how you got to your flat but somehow you did. Somehow you turned your key in the lock and somehow you smashed your mirror and then collapsed onto the floor. Shards of crystal sparkling by your feet, you ran your finger along the edge of one, desperate for the pain you felt you deserved. Your flat is so empty, most of your wardrobe is littered on Alfie’s floor, and the rooms around you smell clinical and bare. You longed for the feel of him behind you, his arms around you and his lips on your throat but you’re comforted by nothing but the dull ache in your stomach. You sat on the floor for what felt like days but it’s probably only been minutes and three sharp raps on the door are what drew you from your daze.

“Alfie?” You said into the dark, running towards the door and flinging it open wanting to leap forward but instead you drop to your knees. Warm hands cradled you before you could hit the floor, pulling you in so close you could drown in the scent of unwanted nostalgia. You cried and wailed, the noise sure to wake every person in the city, as soft fingers rub circles into your back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re alright.”

You pushed him off of you, “How the fuck is it okay, Tommy?” You snapped, hitting him in the chest, helpless as he grasped your flailing arms. He looked older and wearier, but his ocean eyes were still the same, despite everything you crawled back into his embrace, soaking the fabric of his expensive shirt, mascara marking his collar.

“Let’s get you home, alright?”

[holylulusworld]

The queen of Lebanon - Part 7 – The sex wasn’t that bad

Summary: Your father died years ago, all men in the business believed you are too weak to take over his Empire – they were wrong. Anyone trying to get into your hair will feel your wrath. What happens when a cocky mobster tries not only to steal your empire but your heart too?

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Mobster!Reader, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Cole Trenton, Charlie Bradbury

Warnings: angst, ‘the family business’, love-hate relationship, hooking up, rivalry, jealousy, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, age gap (reader is 28; Dean 32),  mentions of characters death/torture/murder (nothing graphic) blood, language

The queen of Lebanon Masterlist

Five years ago, …

Dean's eyes darken as he must watch you talk to Sam, sliding your hand over his brother’s chest while you completely ignore his whole presence.

“If you ask me, Dean, let it go.” Benny tries to stop his friend from doing anything stupid.

The heads of all Empires are at the Winchesters mansion tonight and Benny is worried Dean might lose his cool close to you.

“She is almost jumping my brother's bones right under my nose, Benny. Look how she grinds against his crotch. Shameless…”

Cursing Dean clenches his jaw as you grind against Sam, not missing the way Dean watches you and his brother.

“Dean, you let her go or rather tossed her aside for a shady deal with Lisa’s father. That bastard didn’t even keep his word.” Meeting his boss’s eyes Benny shrugs. “You had your chance years ago. Sam deserves a bit…fun…”

While Benny walks away Dean is close to shooting his brother as Sam dares to dance with you. Sam’s hand is at your back, gently caressing your skin and you let him.

“Son, I told you to let it go. There will be no bond between a Winchester and a Singer. Not back then, not now.” John snarls through gritted teeth.

“Why?” Glaring at his father Dean smirks. “As you killed her mother and elder brother back then or as Bobby killed mom and your precious Adam?” Turning on his heels Dean stalks toward you and his brother, barking orders at his men.

“Dean, drop it!” Sam exhales while Dean paces around the room, glaring at you and his brother. “I know you fucked her by the way you touch my future wife!”

“Brother, I swear…” While Sam wants to calm his brother, you smirk at Dean. Your hand grasps Sam’s and you smile wildly.

“Don’t hide it, Sammy. We got caught…” Licking your crimson lips you give Dean a dark grin. “Sam was so good, Dean. It made me forget the laughable first time you gave me. It was worth the wait.” 

Before you go you peck Dean’s check, pressing your lips hard into his skin to leave a red lip print. “You’re such a …”

“Yeah, let it out Dean but nothing you will say will make me agree to an arranged marriage with you, jerk.”

Now…

“Dean! That wasn’t the plan!” Pressed onto his desk, legs kicked apart, one hand pressing your head down Dean grunts on top of you. He’s not letting up, thrusting hard enough to make the desk creak.

“I will use every moment you spend at my house wisely. Look at you, Y/N. All wet for me, already dripping onto me. Can you hear how your sweet pussy sucks me in?” Dean groans, fisting your hair harshly as his hips snap hard against your ass. 

“We wanted to talk about Dick! Can we not act as if we are horny teens?” Panting you push back onto Dean’s dick, cursing as you hear the wet sound of sex fill the room. “We can’t waste more time…”

“I sent my men to bring Jimmy and Cole here to have lunch. We will share our information about Dick Roman, his empire and everything else. Now shut up and let me fuck you…”

Dean grabs the edge of the desk, angling his cock one last time to make you gasp every time he slides back into you.

“Fuck…” While you are busy to lie exhausted onto the desk Dean still works his cock into you. 

“One more, Baby Girl. Give me another one and we can have a shower, breakfast and talk about you becoming my wife.”

Now your head snaps upward and you want to yell at Dean, but your orgasm makes you cry out first.

“I’ll not marry you, Winchester. What makes you believe I would ever consider marrying your old ass.” Grunting Dean slaps your ass, stilling as his cum coats your walls. “Not in a thousand years, Dean…”

“You said the same back then about having sex with me, Sweetheart.” When he pulls out a deep growl leaves his throat. “Now look at you. All filled with my spunk, fucked out and sated.”

“You’re such an asshole, Winchester.” Covering your still shaking body with his tall frame Dean hums into your neck, smirking as you squirm underneath him. 

“Yeah…I am and so much more. Still…” Nipping at your neck Dean ruts against you. “You let me make you cum thrice this morning and I think you enjoyed yourself.”

“That was just a way to relieve the stress and to forget about being trapped with you in a cramped room. This means nothing.” Voice hoarse you wiggle in Dean’s grip, but he won’t budge.

Still pressing his naked body against yours he marks your neck with little love bites. “You liked me inside of you, admit it…”

“Well…” Chuckling you shrug. “The sex wasn’t that bad, Winchester.”

“You know, I could believe you do not like me a bit but…” Biting your shoulder Dean smirks against your flesh. “I will not give up, Sweetheart. You and your cute ass belong with me…”

“Fuck you, idjit. I will not marry you or your pitiful cock. Now get off me. This was the last time for sure…”

“Anything new, Charlie?” All eyes land on your friend, the expert you call if you need to dig out the dirt. “I know Dick Roman is a hard nut to crack but please tell me you found anything.”

“According to my research, Dick Roman’s business seems to be legal.” Charlie hands you a folder full of useless information. “Nothing useful so far. That asshole even wrote a book and wants to become a politician…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Charlie.” Tossing the folder onto the table your rub your sore eyes. “So, we’ve got a whole lot of nothing.”

“Exactly, Y/N. I dug as deep as possible and found nothing.” The redhead sighs, resting her head onto the table. “He is too clean, boss. Whatever he’s hiding, I’ll find it, but it will take more time and better equipment.”

“Cole, can you make sure Charlie can use our system at Ares? I would feel better knowing she’s safe at my house.” Cole nods, smirking at you as he can see Dean clench his jaw every time you smile at your adopted brother.

“Our turn.” Dean grins, nodding at Benny who opens a file on his laptop. “Let us introduce you to Dick Roman, a billionaire businessman who is one of the fifty most powerful men in America.” Glancing at the monitor you gasp.

“He owns the corporation Richard Roman Enterprises. He is like an invader. That dick is following a ruthless corporate takeover agenda, focusing specifically taking over other kingpins empires.”

“You are telling me this billionaire is after our business? Why?” Rubbing your forehead, you can’t find a reason for a person like Dick Roman to take over a mobster’s empire.

“He has more money than he could ever make with our kind of business. Has a bestseller and even wants to become a politician…”

“I know, Y/N. We only know he killed your father and Jody for a reason. They are not his only victims.” Placing a folder onto the table Dean shoves it toward you. “Ten other families got wiped out.”

Opening the folder, you gasp as the files tell you Dick Roman is killing whole families, including children. “That monster even killed a baby…”

“We need to stop him, but we need to do it right. Everything we know is that no one was able to bring him down so far. Many people tried to kill him, but no one succeed so far.” Sam explains as Charlie checks Dean’s laptop.

“I might need more help. Dick’s website, his company server is encrypted. I know a guy, named Frank. He could help me.”

“Tell me what you need, and Cole will get it for you. You have no limit this time. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay for it. Cole will stay by your side and help you with anything.”

“Frank is a bit…uh…” Shrugging Charlie blinks a few times to find the right words. “Complicated to say the least. I should go alone and ask him for help.”

“No. This is not negotiable, Charlie. Cole will go with you, but he can stay in the car. From now on we play safe.” Laughing Charlie nods, giving you a wink before she hands Cole her friend’s addressee.

“Good thing Frank hates Dick Roman too. He bought his book only to burn it. If only I would’ve known that man is behind your parent’s death, I am sorry, Y/N.” Smirking Charlie walks toward the door, waving at you before she leaves the room.

Cole is not convinced but he follows Charlie outside, still hating the fact you spent the night at Dean Winchesters' house…

“Dean, I am tired so no stupid jokes and no talking about marrying you or shit. Let me have a break from your cockiness for once.” Rubbing your sore eyes, you whine as his rough hands start kneading your knots out.

“Just relax for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll drive you to your house. We should stick together, all of us. If we do not find a way to stop Roman, Lebanon will burn just like every other town Dick Roman took over.” Voice gruff but hands gentle Dean smiles as you nod.

“We should ask Crowley and Rowena for help too. I know you do not like them, but he was always a reliable source. If you want me to do so, let me do the talking…” Yawning you close your eyes for a moment.

“Did you ever imagine how our life would’ve been…” Dean stops talking when you start snoring.

For a moment he slides his fingers over your back, to just enjoy feeling your skin under his fingertips. “We can talk about this later.”

While Dean covers you with a warm blanket you snuggle into his pillow, faking you are already asleep. You know he wanted to ask you how your lives would’ve been without John forcing Dean to marry Lisa.

You press your eyes shut, ignoring the tingling in your body as he moves close enough to kiss your neck softly. 

“Love you, Sweetheart. I wish you would tell me you love me too.” Nuzzling you Dean presses his warm body against your back, wrapping his arms around you. 

“We are too late…” Pressing one hand over her mouth Charlie tries not to scream at the sight of all the blood in Frank’s trailer.

“Whatever happened here, they didn’t do it fast.” Looking around the trailer Cole sees restraints, fingernails on the floor and blood splatters all over the walls, floor, even the ceiling. “They tortured him.”

“Where is he?” Sniffling Charlie wants to walk out of the trailer, wants to escape the horror but Cole holds her back, pointing toward a picture of Frank with his family. “We need to find them…”

“I wasn’t completely honest…” Biting her lower lips Charlie gulps hard. “The reason Frank hated Dick Roman that much was…”

“Roman killed Frank’s family?” Nodding Charlie takes the picture to put it into her bag. “We will get him good, Charlie. For now, we can only check if Frank left anything Dick Roman’s men wouldn’t find…”

The queen of Lebanon

@alyssaforever2671, @xcastielbabyangelface, @bitchwhytho, @rosiehayes

SPN Forever Tags

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[ksj-com]

There Is No Game Over-

Welcome to the Family

- Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

- Genre: Resident Evil 7!AU, horror, angst, action, violence, slight fluff

- Warnings/Tags: torture cutting scene, characters tied up against will, reader torture gagged, mentally insane characters, cussing, gore, killing scenes, monsters, may need prior Resident Evil 7 knowledge to understand some scenes, life or death scenes, deputy Jungkook, death, weapons mention, argument scene, light jokes, little kissing, feeling of helplessness, sudden ending, Namjoon having to choose between you or other people to save

- Word Count: 6,613 words

- Summary: Being kidnapped by the Bakers always put you on edge when playing Resident Evil 7. Tagging along with Namjoon and helping him escape to find his girlfriend, you grow a deeper connection with him then you did while playing on a VR. 

|| Masterlist ||

A/N: Credit to @pjm-com​ for writing some of these scenes

The sound of a man screaming rings through your ears drums. You thought it was going to be Jungkook, but the next time you opened your eyes there was a man sitting next to you. Another man, who you realized was Jack from Resident Evil 7, was cutting the man’s cheek. You remembered this scene so vividly: Namjoon, the main character, didn’t want to eat the Baker family’s dinner because it was a bunch of organs and bugs. In result, Jack’s temper led to the moment that was unfolding in front of your eyes. Namjoon couldn’t fight back since he was restrained by ropes that tied his arms and legs to the chair. You wanted to get up and run, you knew this game map like the back of your hand, but you were in the same situation. Your arms and legs were tied tightly against the chair you were sitting on. A rag wrapped around your head, touching the back of your throat to cause you to gag if a sound threatened to come out. You decided to not risk budging, and continued to watch.

“He’s not eatin’ it, Jack! He’s not eatin’ it!” Marguerite shouts at the top of her lungs, her voice making you cringe.

“Shut the hell up, Marguerite,” Jack groans. Marguerite storms off as a response, leaving you both with Jack, Lucas, and Grandma Eveline. Jack was about to cut another slice in Namjoon’s other cheek, but the doorbell rings throughout the house.

“I bet it’s that damn cop again,” Lucas mentions before they both exit the kitchen. Eveline stayed in her wheelchair, perfectly silent and still. Because you’ve already played this game before, you knew she was nothing to worry about for now.

You watch Namjoon take this chance to try to escape the confines of the chair, tipping and knocking the chair over on its side. The weak wood chair breaks under Namjoon’s crashing weight. You both cringe from the loud noise that echoes from the crash. The second he shakes the rope off his wrists and ankles he rushes over to you, untying the cloth around your mouth and all the areas you were being tied down. Once he reaches your ankles, he notices that you have the same heartbeat watch that he has on his wrist.

“Looks like whatever they did to my wrist, they did the same to your ankle” he says. You look at his wrist for the first time. Previously in the game, Namjoon went through a chainsaw fight and the result ended in him losing one of his hands. Now, his hand looked as if it was stapled back on and fully functional. On top of that, he had a watch that tracked his health when playing the game. Comparing his wrist to your ankle, it looked exactly the same except your foot was the one that was stapled on instead.

You thought about what was going through Namjoon’s head during this whole game. Through the horrors and dangers of the infected household; did he ever think Mia wasn’t worth it? After all, his girlfriend is the reason why he was here in the first place.

“Namjoon, is Mia really worth all of this?” Your voice croaks. You were parched from having a rag pushed all the way to the back of your throat for so long.

He looks up at you flabbergasted. “Of course, why wouldn’t she be? There’s obviously something wrong with her and this place in general.”

You nod agreeing with him. You didn’t want to be here. You finished this game once and you definitely didn’t want to do it again…like this.

“Plus, she was your best friend. Don’t you think she’s worth it too?” He asks you. So that’s why you’re here. Memories flood into your head like a barrier just broke within your mind. You remember the beginning of the story now from your perspective.

•••

You were in the middle of watching TV when you saw the phone call from Namjoon. 

“Hello?” You brought the phone to your ear. You haven’t talked to Namjoon ever sense Mia went missing three years ago. He went off the walls when she was declared dead by the police. He knew something couldn’t be right.

“Hey, (Y/N). It’s Namjoon. Before you hang up I need to ask you something,” He waits to see if you would stay on the call before he dared to continue.

You sigh. “Is this about Mia?”

“Yes, but she’s alive. Trust me. She sent me video footage of her and I think she’s in danger. She’s in Louisiana and I was thinking that—“

“I could come with you?” You interrupt. The phone line goes silent. He was scared of your response. He obviously didn’t want to go alone. “Send me the video she sent you,” You say and hang up the call. There was no way you were actually considering going to Louisiana with Namjoon to find her…but she was your best friend after all.

A minute later you receive the video from Namjoon:

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself. You immediately go back to the text conversation between you and Namjoon. ‘I’m in,‘ you text him.

•••

And just like that, you were sucked into this mess. You snap back to present day, now untied from the chair. You knew exactly what to do: help Namjoon find Mia and get the hell out of this game…if you survive. You didn’t know how to tell Namjoon that you knew exactly what to do. Every jump scare, every fighting scene, every plot twist was ingrained into your mind. “Namjoon can I ask you one thing?” You rub the raw skin on your wrists.

“Anything.”

“Just…do what I say and follow me when I tell you to. You aren’t exactly logical when it comes to Mia sometimes,” you feel as though that’s the best possible way to tell him that you are in charge here. His brows furrow, but he nods in agreement. “Okay good, let’s looks around here.” You knew everything that needed to be found, opening drawers that contained ammo for the gun you will be getting later.

“I found a hatch!” Namjoon whispers loudly to get your attention. You had hoped he would find that hatch since that’s what you needed to get through to get to the next part of the game. He pulls at the wood door on the ground, but it doesn’t budge. “God dammit, it’s locked” he huffs.

“Stick with me. Let’s find the key.” This was the challenging part: the key was at the end of the hallway. In the game, when you approach the key area, Jack reappears. And worst of the all, he sees you and ends up chasing you around until you pick up the key and step into the hatch.

You and Namjoon were now sitting at the end of the hallway. As you stood in front of him, you slowly walk forward. “Why are you being so sl-“ Namjoon’s whisper stops abruptly when Jack comes walking to the end of the hallway. His posture hangs over a table, where the key was sitting, until he notices you both.

“Thought you’d just slip out before dinner was done?” Jack approaches with an axe in his hand.

You turn around, slipping past Namjoon for you to be in front again. You had to do this right because who knows if you would get a second chance. You grip Namjoon’s hand so you didn’t leave him behind anywhere. Making your way around the dining room and into the living room as Jack was on your heels. You circled around the living room table and back out to the hallway that contained no threat. This was your time as you both ran towards the key, but Namjoon smacks into your nonmoving back when Jack breaks through the wall in front of you.

“You’re wasting your time” Jack grunts.

You were so out of breath but the fear of death has you turning back around. Luckily, the new hole in the wall was in the room that contained the hatch. You looped around once again, going through the hole in the wall and snatching the key up on the table. Jack was no longer behind you both, but that didn’t stop you from rushing to the hatch door and unlocking it as quick as possible. You and Namjoon hopped in and closed the door behind you. The space was so cramped that you both had to be on your hands and knees to fit. It looked as if you were under the house. Ripped up foundation was the ceiling, while the floor was matted down dirt and trash. Broken windows, lawn equipment, and trash bags all crammed against the walls. You had wondered how they even stored this stuff down here to begin with.

“It reeks down here,” Namjoon scrunches his nose. The smell of mildew and garbage made you want to puke while you both crawl your way over to the other side of the hatch. The other side led you to a hole opening to another room in the house. He waits for you to pull yourself out of the opening before saying, “Where the hell are we now?”

The safe room, you thought to yourself. “Looks like the laundry room, I think we’re safe otherwise he would’ve been waiting here for us,” you patted yourself on the back for the improv.

“You’re right, but how do we get out of here without him seeing us?” He pulls his fingers through his tangled hair. You knew that once you stepped out of the room Jack wouldn’t be there, but one of the many boss battles that occur in the game is coming up sooner than you would like.

You eventually convinced Namjoon that you couldn’t stay in that room forever, and he finally grew enough courage to follow you through the open door. Once he realized that Jack was no where to be found, he continued to scavenge the area for any remaining things that could be useful.

A knocking on one of the windows stopped Namjoon in his tracks. You approach it, but Namjoon grabs your wrist. “What the hell are you doing? Would if it’s one of them?” He hisses.

Annoyed, you yank your wrist from his grasp. You knew who it was and you knew you were going to be safe. It was out of his knowledge to know these things, but you still couldn’t help but feel a bit offended that he would think that you would be stupid enough to approach something you weren’t sure about. You kept walking, ignoring his questions. He follows close behind, curious to see if something bad occurs. Not to your surprise, a cop stands at the window. Barb wire and broken wood planks spread across the window frame, but there was still enough space between the ripped up boards to see him in his uniform. The usual person that you would see as the cop in the game was replaced by someone that sent chills down your spine. It was Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” You gasp to yourself He looks at you confused, he didn’t recognize his own name. Is this a glitch?

“It’s deputy,” he scoffs.

“Okay, deputy, I know this is asking for a lot but could we use your pocket knife? We’re being held hostage in this house with no protection and we need your help. There are crazy people in this house,” You wanted to hide the fact that your eyes were bulging out of your skull because of the person you were talking to right now.

“Whoa whoa…not so fast. You don’t exactly seem like you’re playing with a full deck of cards yourself,” he reads your expression, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed into yours.

“Are you serious?” You say. He says that same line to Namjoon in the original game, but he’s talking to you this time. You figured he would go off script at least for that one.

“Listen, there have been several missing person cases around here, how do I know you’re not involved?” His flashlight is shining brightly at your face.

“You let me borrow your pocket knife and I’ll tell you whatever you want in the garage. The garage door is opened by a button which is inside a box that’s covered in tape. I need to get in there somehow,” You pray that this works since you weren’t going by the original dialogue of the video game cutscene anymore.

‘Jungkook’ thinks for a second before nodding slightly. He hands you a small knife through the gap in the window, “Garage. Now.”

You give him a nod before turning back around to meet the eyes of a confused Namjoon. “What?” You question. What does he have to say now?

“What was that?” he crosses his arms, quizzing you.

You roll your eyes. “What was what, Namjoon?” Your attitude raises, you just wanted to get out of here.

“The pocket knife, it wasn’t even in his hand or in sight when you asked him for it…how did you know he had one?” Namjoon’s voice was the only thing that made sound in the house.

You felt your body run cold, letting out a laugh to hide the fact that you had no logical explanation to give him. “Just a lucky guess. It’s a cop, so I just assumed he had something other than one gun,” you play it off with a shrug. Walking past him, you make your way down to the garage to cut open the taped barrier. A red button was now clearly visible when opening the metal cabinet-like door, so you don’t hesitate to smash the button and watch the door to the garage scale up. The garage was now completely laid out in front of you and Namjoon now. A police car and it’s lights rotated around the walls. The cop noticed you both immediately and approached you aggressively.

“Now, tell me what you guys are doing out here tonight?” He yells.

Namjoon couldn’t stand letting you talk all the time, so he steps in front of you to answer. “I’m trying to find my wife that went missing and things went bat-shit crazy—“

The police’s head whips around to see that the garage door that separates the outside world from this hellhole was now closing. “Put that door back up! Put that door back up!” He points his finger at you frantically, but by then it was too late. Namjoon stumbles back from fear, gasping for breath. A shovel was pushed through the deputy’s head from behind, the top of his head slides off of the shovel and onto the ground to reveal who was behind this act. It was Jack.

You’re half surprised that Jack is standing behind the beheaded cop, considering Jungkook, or who you thought was Jungkook, was in the game. You have a slight worry that the game won’t follow it’s normal track, but for now you act on instinct.

“Lets go!” You yell, yanking Namjoon by the arm considering he’s frozen to the floor. Making a jump for it, you scramble to get the keys that are lying innocently on the workbench before dashing to the other side of the garage. Namjoon is tripping over his own feet, rambling about how you even knew the keys were there. The sound of Jack’s shovel is slamming into the large metal shelf placed in the middle of the floor, sending cans of paint and debris everywhere. You use that little setback to shove Namjoon into the passenger seat, hopping in the drivers side and shoving the keys into the ignition. You’re almost convinced that the starter won’t flip, but after a few clicks the engine rumbles to life.

“Is this my own fucking car?” Namjoon yells, and you ignore him while pushing the pedal to the floor and attempting to run over Jack. Namjoon is scrambling to get his seatbelt on as if you guys were even leaving the garage. “Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

Sometimes, you wanted to just duck tape his mouth. “Namjoon, shut the hell up.”

He says nothing further as you throw the gear into reverse and step on the gas, backing up into the concrete wall before flooring it forwards again. It takes a few tries, but after the third or fourth crash, Jack is gone. You know better that he isn’t on the ground, and within seconds is peeling the roof back. Even if you know what’s coming, you and Namjoon share the same screaming as Jack pushes you aside and starts to drive the car. You remember the line perfectly, but the sound of Jack talking is drowned out by the tires squealing and various things breaking in the garage. You duck in your seat, bracing for the impact.

“Lower your head!”

“Why?” Namjoon says back, like it was the calmest thing in the word. His eyes bulge as he looks in front of him, and he’s sinking into his seat in seconds before Jack is driving the car into the metal beam.

Silence fills the garage and it’s almost deafening. You take a quick look towards Jack, not breathing in the middle of the seat, before scrambling out of the car and grabbing the gun. Namjoon unbuckles his belt and does the same, eyes glued to the figure in the car as you back into the opposite wall. Your faces light with red tones as the car goes up in flames, Jack coming out unscathed with his hand out. You’re quick to aim the gun at his head, shooting three times before he drops to the ground, the final explosion of the car leaving you and Namjoon on your feet. Once deemed safe, you’re locking your arms together and moving towards the ladder that drops to the floor.

“That was fucking crazy,” Namjoon shouts, and you can’t do anything else besides agree with him. He starts searching the garage for first aid med’s and any coins, or lock picks he could find. At least he still had that common sense. “Can I have the gun?” All shakiness aside, you hand the gun to him, heart slamming at the base of your sternum while Namjoon motions to climb the ladder. You’re one foot up before Jack spawns right next to you, leaving you caged between him and Namjoon.

“Do I have your attention? I’m about to show you something wonderful.”

You practically mouthed those words as he said them, eyes shut before you feel the hot blood splatter all over your face. The gunshot silences the room, even Namjoon’s breathing had come to a halt as the sound of Jack’s body hits the floor. You’re almost unfazed as you start climbing the ladder, leaving Namjoon down there wondering what the fuck just happened. He moves slow, sluggish like he’s about to pass out. You don’t care that you’re leaving him in the dust. You needed to get the metal ox head to open the door for later, and that’s the only thing on your mind.

Jack was out of the way. For now.

It’s been hours.

You and Namjoon haven’t made a dent in getting out it seems. You can feel the weight of the two brass dog heads in your pocket and the way they clink together is almost teasing. You need the third one to unlock the door to the outside, your mind is going crazy just thinking about it. The game is still on track, the monsters popping out at certain times, and you know that soon you’re going to have to face Jack again.

“Y/N. You think we have enough ammo?” Namjoon asks softly, like he’s tired. You can see it in his face too. His eyes look sunken in, back hunched even though he is steadily alert. You nod silently at his question, knowing that he was itching to get out of here too. You both halt before the double doors, knowing what lies behind them and in the back of his mind, Namjoon does too. He’s terrified. That he’s fighting for nothing, that he might lose you in the next fight. That he won’t be useful to you or Mia.

He’s not even sure why the hell he keeps going, any man in their right mind would’ve left the moment they entered the house but something tells Namjoon to stay. As you both enter the downstairs shower room, you can hear the low growl of the monsters pulling out of the wall, the black tar connecting them to the house as if it was one being.

You wince at the sight, shotgun ready as Namjoon loads up the Albert-01, and you both stand back to back to look at the masses slugging towards you. The huge black monster was most likely someone that had died in the Baker house. Maybe Clancy. The black claws on the end of the deformed hands were lunging at you both left and right, the head with huge canines for teeth wide open with the tongue hanging out. You leave minimal time to examine them further since you’re sick of seeing them, and move the shotgun barrel closer before pulling the tigger.

“Works every time,” you say to yourself, watching the head explode into black chunks that dissolve into the tile grout underneath your feet. You watch Namjoon take out the other monster one shot at a time, bullets flying through the skin before finally dropping to the ground. You’re unfazed as you reach the morgue, stomach dropping at the sight of the body bags dangling from the ceiling, the bronze dog head glinting in the light. You feel a wave of relief wash over you. You wanted to get out of this fucking mess.

“Joon! Look,” you breathe, scrambling up the stairs with Namjoon in tow. You both sit like idiots, watching it suspend from the metal beams over your head.

“Fucking finally. Let’s grab it and get out of here.”

You grab his hand, and prepare to jump as soon as you hear the floor boards creak behind you. You could never get away from him.

Pushing off of the ledge, you and Namjoon hurdle into the bottom half of the morgue, considering the area was a loft type of room. You both tuck before you hit the ground, rolling a little bit and soon in seconds you’re back on your feet. Jack jumps down like he’s supposed to, a huge version of hedge trimmers lay in his hand, snapping at any skin he could. Pushing the body bag to stun him like in the game, you soon get bored from the Mary-go-round game you play. It seems Jack does too considering he’s ripping open the chainlink fence.

“Another chainsaw!” Namjoon shouts, lunging across the concrete floor to grab at it before distancing himself. You, having already finished the game, pull out the circular saw. You didn’t wanna use it until now when it would be super handy. This wouldn’t have worked in the game, but once you both get Jack down, you and Namjoon stick the blades of each weapon into his gorging tumor. It shreds through the various amounts of adipose tissue, ripping through the dermal layer of skin before exploding the entire upper torso.

Great, you think. Another fluid to wash off my body. Back to the wall, you watch Jack’s nerve endings come alive in the bottom half of his body. It takes a couple steps towards you before falling.

Namjoon winces. “Just fucking stay dead, okay!?”

You felt a little more sluggish as you made your way back upstairs, glad no other monsters were spawning. You were beyond irritated. What if you actually died in this game? Would you wake up and it would’ve all been a fever dream? Or would your mom come in and find you gone? Would you re-spawn over and over again? It hurt your head to think about, so you leave it alone. Namjoon can feel your tense emotion as he trudges in front of you, flashlight pointing at the dark tunnels of the basement.

“You think we got a good chance of finding Mia?” He sounds cautious as he turns back to you, eyes pleading for you to say something. You’ve been silent for a little. You chew on your lip, debating if you even wanted to start something right now. You wanted to get out of there, too. Not at the expense of your life. So you decide to not bite your tongue.

“You still want to?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because!” You snap, stopping in the middle of the tar-soaked hallway crossing your arms over your chest. “She almost beat you within an inch of your life the first twenty minutes we were inside the house! This family has been trying to kill us over and over again, and I have no doubt that they will come back. Why do you still want to stay?” Namjoon is deep in thought, voice cracking as he tries to speak.

“Other than the fact that I love her… It’s the right thing to do. I don’t know what else to do, so can’t you just work with me here?!” He’s yelling now, tears welling in his eyes while the ridges of his knuckles turning white as he clenches his fist around the Albert-01. You’re ready to rip out your hair, turning on him.

“I’ve been working with you, Namjoon! This whole fucking time!” You scream, voice straining. “Risking my life for someone who’s already infected! Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to go home!?” Your chest is heaving, hands pushing your hair back as you drop the subject, continuing down the hall and up the stairs. It stays painfully silent, the tension thick between you and Namjoon. Once you enter the safe room, you feel little relieved as you push the cassette tape into the recorder.

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp placed in a wooden desk. The floor was slightly messy, papers were pressed into the floor boards and the shelves had miscellaneous items lazily thrown about. Random paintings were placed on the wall, one of a woman in a victorian-like dress and the others of simple nature. The huge green chest was sitting off to the side which held all of the things we didn’t need or didn’t have room to carry around.

“I’m sorry” Namjoon’s voice comes in from behind you

“Just forget it,” you scoff, back still facing towards him.

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes still focused on the back of your head.

“Namjoon-“

“You have no idea how important you are to me, (Y/N)!” He cuts you off before you could counter anything he had to say. You turn around to meet eyes with him. “I can’t lose you too…” he shakes his head. The feeling of your arms around him, makes his inner dam break. Tears flow down his cheeks and his sobs are hard as he gasps for breath after each cry. You just stood there, not letting go of his shaking body. This is what he needed right now.

“We’ll find her, and if we don’t, then we’ll die doing it” those words coming out of your mouth scared the shit out of you, but you couldn’t let Namjoon see that right now.

“Would if she’s not worth dying for?” He says quietly. You finally decide to let him go, both of you still close to one another.

“Then we won’t die,” you look up at him. Although he was more than half a foot taller than you, you didn’t feel small in front of him. Mentally, he looked up to you. He always thought you were the strongest person he ever met, and you were still living up to those standards. “Maybe we should try to wipe some of this blood and nasty black shit off or something?” You say, breaking away from his gaze.

“Sounds like a good idea” he laughs.

You take one of the pieces of fabric off of one of the drawers. “Damn, no mirrors in here,” you look around.

“Give it to me, I can do it.” You hand him the cloth and he searches your face. Why did this seem like such an intimate act to him? The cloth barely makes contact with your face. His motions were so gentle and slow. His wristband showed a red line across his wrist that you couldn’t help but glance at. You watched his face focus on the areas he was trying to wipe. When you met eyes, a smile broke onto both of your faces.

“Almost done?” Your voice hums.

“Yup, my turn,” he smiles and drops the cloth into your palms. He sits on the desk, making you more eye level to him. You swallow harshly before stepping in front of his open legged position. You peel his dark brown hair off of his sticky forehead.

“You got some sweaty ass forehead,” you joke.

“Shut up” he chuckles. The cloth drags down his face and around his mouth. Running along his lips, he pushes your hand down and away from his face. To your surprise, he brings his lips to yours. His hands lightly rested at the bottom of your back as his lips moved slowly around yours. Your eyes flutter shut and you felt yourself get lost in the moment. The kiss remained slow and meaningful until you pulled away.

“Namjoon this is—“

“Wrong? It doesn’t feel like it,” he kisses you again, except after a few seconds he’s the one that pulls away. “Unless it does for you, we can stop.”

“Shut up you dummy,” you take his head in your hands and pull him into another kiss. His arms wrap completely around you and pull you as close as you could be. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling and letting it snap back. Once the kiss was finished, both of your lips were red and swollen. The smiles on your lips slowly faded when you realized the reality that you two were in again.

“I suppose we should heal up ourselves with some med kits before going back out there,” you sigh. He nodded, watching you dig through the big green chest and scrounge up two medkits. Returning to Namjoon, you were about to shoot the medkit into his vein until you caught a look at his wristwatch. It was already green.

Wait, what? You thought to yourself. You swore that he was in the red a couple minutes ago.

“You healed me,” he answers the confusion that you were thinking to yourself.

You look up to him still confused. “How?”

“Hell if I know, but look at yours. You’re no different” he says. You look down at your ankle, what was once a blinking orange line, was now green as well.

“Well I guess we don’t need medkits anymore,” you look up at him bright-eyed. You had this game in the bag now! After placing the medkits back into the chest, it was time to go. Namjoon cocked his gun for it to be ready to fire at anytime.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You were determined, now more than ever, to finally get the fuck out of the property.

Killing the mom was the scariest for you. It seemed like everywhere you went, the bugs were following you. In your ear, in your mouth.. But finally, Namjoon had killed the mom, grabbing the lantern and bolting out of there. Grabbing the two key cards was easy enough, but if you were honest, Lucas was scary in a psycho sadistic way. You had a feeling he knew how to fuck with somebody’s mind, which made traveling through his house all the more scarier.

Namjoon was quick to outsmart him, putting the bomb in the wall and giving you guys an exit. He had an iron grip on your hand, basically dragging you through the docks as you made it to the boat house. It was the last final fucking stretch and you feel like you could burst into tears.

“Namjoon!!” You scream, watching a four legged molded come from the water and block the way. The brunette was quick on his feet, shotgun aimed at the head of the body, firing within seconds as you both stepped over the corpse. Reaching the final chest. You both rummage through the container, grabbing everything you could and then some.

Armed with Albert-01 and the grenade launcher, you push as many bullets as you can into the bag, while packing the flame rounds into the gun. Namjoon is stocking on the med kits just in case, both of the shotguns strapped to his frame. A deep feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you reach the top of the boat house to meet Mia and Zoe. You aren’t gonna see Namjoon again, and you’ll finally wake up in your own house. Unfortunately you have to table the thoughts as Zoe hands him the serum, Namjoon pocketing them as you brace for the worst impact of the game.

Jacks last, but not least, form in the game is a grotesque monster with eyes all over the skin. It was a boss battle you wanted to finish once, and never again, but you didn’t have that luck. You feel a hand wrap around your body, squishing flat against Namjoon’s as you’re thrown onto the wood of the deck, rolling before you come to a ragged stop. You’re on your feet in a few seconds, Namjoon struggling to regain his balance while you have the first few shots off at the eyes. They go out in three shots total, making Albert-01 your best friend as you run away from the hand that slaps down on the wooden planks.

You’re dodging the swipes, left and right, but Jack’s swings finally get the best of you. His arm launches you off the first floor. The shallow water from the second floor splashes in your mouth as you cough from the impact of falling on your back. The wind gets knocked right from your lungs, leaving you lying there breathless for a few seconds before shaking out of your daze.

Jack was focused on Namjoon when you got yourself back on your feet. This gave you a clear shot of the eyes that laid around Jack’s back and tail. You took the opportunity of a lifetime and began shooting like a mad man. Thankfully, your good aim managed to take them all out before Jack turned to face you again. You jumped up the ladder two bars at a time to be able to make it back to Namjoon.

“He’s just got one more eye on his stomach!” Your voice barely carries across the room as Jack shouted his offensive statements. “Someone has to distract him!”

As someone distracted Jack on the top level, the other person sneaks down to the lower level right under Jack. Thus, giving them the clear shot of the last eye placed on his stomach.

“You distract him, I got this.” Namjoon nods at you.

You fucking better, you thought to yourself. You took a deep breath to shake the anxiety dwelling deep within your body. Aimless gunshots exploded out of your gun as you drew Jack away from the only way down. Jack dragged his enormous body towards you. Thankfully his AI wasn’t made for two people so he was easily distracted from Namjoon.

There was little good news for you on the other hand, while you were cornered now with no ammo left in your gun. The only thing left was your grenade launcher. You quickly switched and started shooting at Jack helplessly. The kickback of the massive weapon left your shoulder aching, but the adrenaline running through your body left that a problem for later. Eventually, the grenade launcher used its last grenade and you were left with nothing.

You stood there defeated, watching Jack wind up his deadly arm. Not even a block would protect you from the blow. Is this it? You’re going to die in a video game?

Before your thoughts could roam even more into the unknown, Jack’s body fell through the floorboards. He did it.

You flew down the ladder to reunite with Namjoon once more. “We did it! We did it!” You jump into his arms. His arms wrapped around you tightly, you both spinning around the flooded room. You wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there, so you took his hand in yours and ran for the exit where Zoe and Mia were waiting. Now was the time that could determine everything. There’s only one cure left and Namjoon had three different people that needed it. Will he choose Mia, his wife, and my best friend, that we both came here for? Or will he choose Zoe, the one that mentored us along the way? Or, is there even a slim chance that he’ll choose you?

You all three stood in front of him, watching the gears turning inside his head. Your heart was beating through your chest. You wanted him to pick you, but you understood the circumstances. He came here for Mia and he will choose Mia in the end.

“Mia…” Namjoon looks down at his feet while Mia walks toward his figure with a smile on her face. He finally makes eye contact with her, catching a glimpse of you in the background.

“I’m sorry. I came here for you, but I can’t use this on you,” He walks past her and inches towards you. “(Y/N), you’ve saved my ass too many times for me to leave you here to die.” He pushes the syringe into your wrist, making sure every last drop of the cure goes into your blood system.

You were left speechless, along with everyone else. Namjoon didn’t have the heart to look at Mia’s and Zoe’s face before guiding you both onto the boat out of there. You happened to see Mia and Zoe watching you both row off with the look of true fear on their face. You would be in that same position if Namjoon didn’t choose you. What would you have done then? You turned to face Namjoon again.

“Thank you…I should’ve said it sooner, but I was so shocked. I really thought you were going to pick Mia,” His eyes meet yours. There was no doubt that he was sad about leaving Mia behind, but after everything you both had been through he thought you were more important. It seemed harsh but it was true.

“I know I made the right choice. No looking back,” Namjoon gives you a warm smile. That was the last time you saw Namjoon when the boat flipped over and pure darkness devoured your vision.

[reeberry]

MHA: Spinning

Just following orders.

That was the line, right? Just following orders. Follow orders when they said "leave your name behind". Follow orders when they said "open your own hero agency". Follow orders when they said "here are your sidekicks, your interns, you'll need to accept someone from UA for an internship and a work study. We'll send you a list of approved students".

Follow orders when they said "infiltrate the League of Villains".

Even this, sitting on this rooftop, doing intel work for the enemy. This was all part of following orders, right?

Hawks didn't find that very convincing. That wasn't too worrying, though. Convincing people of things he didn't believe was part of the gig. Easy. Convincing himself? Well. That was a luxury. Not necessary.

"Bird brain," the villain said, impatient. Hawks blinked, and put a hand behind his head to ruffle his hair up a bit. "Are you not paying attention?"

Hawks sighed into a careful, crafted smile. "I'm paying attention, boss. The door's still closed. No activity in or out."

Dabi studied him, sitting against the edge of the roof, facing away from the building. If Hawks didn't know better, he would think of this as a sign of trust. But Dabi had made it clear that it was actually a sign of indifference. To the pro hero, to the recon mission he'd been sent on, to whatever was happening inside the building they were surveilling.

Hawks was perched on the edge of the roof in the darkness. He didn't feel at ease unless he was perilously close to falling off at any moment. Ready to spring into action, or into an escape. Dabi had made his trademark "tch" noise when he noticed Hawks's stance and sat himself down to lean against the concrete edge, staring at the city skyline.

"Whatever. This is a waste of time anyway." He opened up his right palm, making small blue flames dance in his hand. Just enough to light up his face, not enough to give away their location. Hawks still frowned. He was the one that any security team would see first if they were spotted.

"Then why'd you take this mission?" Hawks asked, his tone carefully curious. "I thought you didn't do recon."

Dabi grinned. "I don't. I'm not here for recon. I'm babysitting." He turned to look at Hawks, his mocking smile pulling at the staples in his face. He closed his hand into a fist and the fire went out.

"Babysitting," Hawks repeated, meeting Dabi's gaze before turning back to the building. It's not like Hawks hadn't tried to get someone - anyone - else. Out of everyone in the LOV, Dabi was the most mysterious and the most dangerous to him. That fire would make quick work of his defenses. He had no personality profile or information to go on. Except, Dabi was the only one still openly recruiting. It's why after two months of prep he finally gave in and approached the man. Now, a month and a half later, Hawks still hasn't met anyone else in the LOV, except that Nomu that Endeavor fought. That didn't count as much of a meeting anyway.

If he had been able to get anyone else, this mission would be going much faster. Dabi clearly didn't trust him, and not that it seemed like the fire user was a chatterbox with people he did like, but he was extra careful with him. Still. Even meeting three times a week, feeding him information on heroes, and letting him and the Nomu destroy parts of his own home turf. He still knew basically nothing about the man next to him.

"Does this mean I get to give the report? Since I'm the only one being graded here, and all." Hawks kept his tone jovial. Dabi didn't respond. Hawks looked back at the big warehouse building door. Still no movement.

"Am I not enough for you, number two?" Dabi quipped after a long silence.

Hawks turned his attention to the villain in confusion. "I'm just saying, how do I even know you are still with the League of Villains if I never see you interact with...anyone else?" Hawks let out a chuckle. "Do you have friends, Dabi?"

"Tch."

"Whoa, whoa, I was only joking." The hero settled into his perch again as Dabi let flames dance in his hand idly once more.

"If you wanna call it quits, we can leave this roof right now."

"I didn't say that." The winged hero looked at the target building again. For the first time all night, a light near the door came on, and shadows started moving behind the curtains. "Wait, I think someone is actually gonna leave that building." He grabbed the phone camera, zooming in on the door, and held the binoculars out towards Dabi's face. A show of trust, not looking at Dabi but invading his personal bubble with the item, pretending to be too engrossed in the image on the phone to look away.

"What do I care, just take the pictures already." Dabi moved his hand and tapped the binoculars away from him. "Get that out of my face. I'm not looking."

Hawks started taking pictures as people left the building. No faces he immediately recognized. Five normal-looking people, for sneaking around an old warehouse at night in this part of town. "You scared of heights?"

It was meant as a joke but when he glanced down he noticed Dabi's eyes were closed and his head was resting against the concrete ledge. "Vertigo," Dabi said, eyes still closed. "Now shut up and get the pictures we're here for."

Hawks kept his eyes focused, and took pictures with the phone Dabi had handed him. The people dispersed down the sidewalk, and the warehouse was now truly quiet and abandoned. Hawks could sense no one else was in there, but he wasn't about to mention that little ability to his sitter. "I think that's everyone. Five people came out, and dispersed. Got pictures of all 5 of their faces."

"Good," Dabi said, eyes still closed. He was controlling his breathing, but he seemed better than he was a minute ago. He held out a hand expectantly. "Phone," he demanded, and Hawks handed over the device. Dabi sighed deeply and opened his eyes, looking through the pictures on the small screen. He selected one of each person and sent them to a number he had memorized, and then deleted the messages. Hawks memorized the digits entered, even though he knew it would lead to a dead end, like the other three times he tried to chase down a phone number lead. This mission was really testing his memory, and his patience.

Dabi slipped the phone in his pocket and leaned his head against the concrete again, closing his eyes. Hawks stayed at his perch for a few minutes, quiet, looking at the warehouse and trying to burn the faces he just documented into his memory. The phone in Dabi's pocket buzzed, and he opened his eyes long enough to read a short text message.

"We're done here. Finally."

"That's it?" Hawks said, turning to look at Dabi, who had his eyes closed and his breathing deep and controlled again. Hawks looked back at the warehouse, at the apartment building roof they were stationed on, and at the villain next to him willing his breaths into a deep, even rhythm. "This wasn't a test for me, was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dabi growled, more impatient than usual.

"No, this was really your mission but you didn't want to do it. So you had me do the actual recon." Hawks was smirking. It was nice, knowing that Dabi was definitely still taking orders from someone, because he would not have volunteered for this particular task if he could help it. It was also nice to see the mysterious fire quirk user be rendered immobile by a five story building.

"This, pro hero, is what we call efficiency. All part of the vetting process." He opened his eyes, fixing them on a point on the ground a few feet away.

Hawks vaulted himself over the rooftop ledge easily, coming to sit down next to the villain, his wings carefully folded behind him to keep them from getting too close to Dabi. "What's next?"

"What am I, your assistant?" Dabi kept his eyes fixed on the ground ahead of him. "Whatever your tender little heart desires. I'm gonna hang out here for a bit, I don't care what you do."

Hawks studied the way Dabi was still taking slow, even breaths. He was clenching his jaw, staring unblinkingly at the spot on the ground. His entire body was tense in a way that Hawks hadn't seen before. The few times he had seen Dabi fight, it was tense with excitement. This was different. It was tense with determination, with anger.

"You can go, bird brain," Dabi repeated. Hawks didn't budge.

"I don't have anything else planned for tonight. I can hang out a bit," he said with an easy shrug.

Dabi sighed, and closed his eyes again and leaned his head back. "Fine. Then make yourself useful." Dabi extended a hand towards Hawks.

"Do you want the binoculars?" Hawks asked, genuinely confused. Dabi's fingers motioned towards himself impatiently.

"No. Hold it." He opened his hand more expectantly. "Hold my hand. It'll help it pass quicker."

All of the calculated risks Hawks had taken so far, not looking at Dabi when talking lately, pretending he didn't hear something to get Dabi to repeat it, none of them were all that risky. He could pull himself back with his feathers instantly if there was a fight about to start. He could sense where Dabi was, he was careful to not get too close, just enough to be thought of as careless. But this request. His hand could be gone in an instant. And Dabi was already so tense. But it was also a genuine gesture of trust, that Dabi initiated. Or maybe just a gesture of need. Hawks took the villain's hand carefully, bracing himself for an intense heat that never actually came. Dabi's hand was actually cold with sweat. His fingers squeezed around Hawks's palm with a constant pressure as Dabi continued taking slow, deep breaths. They sat like this for around five minutes as Dabi, eyes closed, started to slowly relax.

"I'm done now," Dabi said, opening his hand and releasing Hawks abruptly. He opened his eyes, looking at the ground ahead of him once more.

"Okay," Hawks said slowly. "We can keep going if it'll help."

Dabi turned his head sharply to look at Hawks. "Your fear of getting burned was distracting," he said bluntly. "I could feel you tense up every time I moved."

Hawks ran his newly freed hand over the back of his hair, ruffling it. A test had just happened, and he hadn't scored very high. He could let it rest or he could try to charm his way out of it. He was pretty good at that, after all. He muttered, making sure he could feel the warmth in his cheeks of extra blood flow for good measure, "that's wasn't-that wasn't it."

It was, as always, a calculated risk. He knew that Dabi didn't trust him yet. He knew that his charmer act was pretty well known as his public face, but his public face doesn't blush. Doesn't rub the back of his hair and let his hand rest at the base of his neck. There was a solid chance that Dabi would make an irritated noise and blast him with fire just to be safe. But no fire came. Instead Dabi's hand extended again. Hawks looked at it in surprise, and then gently took it once more.

"What-"

"Shut up. You're ruining the moment." Dabi leaned his head back against the concrete ledge again, closing his eyes. His hand was less clammy this time, and a bit warm to the touch, but not unpleasant. Hawks steeled himself to keep his hand relaxed, even as Dabi's fingers closed around his palm again with soft, consistent pressure. Dabi's thumb traced a line over Hawks's knuckles, and neither the slight tensing of his hand or the blush in his cheeks were a planned act this time. Dabi smiled. "Huh."

Hawks let out a slight cough. Dabi grinned at the sound, still keeping his eyes closed, and released Hawks's hand.

Dabi pushed himself off the short wall he was leaning against, standing up. He was still looking at the ground ahead of him, and did not turn around when he gruffly said "get up."

Orders. Hawks knew what to do with orders. He sprang to his feet, easily, placing the hand that he had just been holding Dabi's with at the base of his neck again instinctively and looking around.

"Well? Aren't you gonna fly away?" Dabi said, still not looking at him. Hawks smiled, hand behind his head, eyes closed. A practiced, comfortable gesture.

"I can if you really want," he offered, not moving. "But I figured I'd, I don't know, take the stairs back down with you." Hawks turned slightly to look at the abandoned street below them. "Not very covert, flying around at this time of night."

Dabi turned and actually met Hawks's eyes. The villain seemed to be studying the hero, hands in the pockets of his pants, long coat billowing behind him in the slight breeze. He looked at Hawks, at the wings, at the hand behind Hawks's neck, and at the way Hawks's eyebrows bounced up for a moment, after a few seconds of Dabi's careful study. "Who's babysitting who, now?" Dabi asked with a grin. "Fine. Follow me down five flights of stairs. See if I care." Dabi turned on his heel and started walking towards the rooftop access door, taking out a hand to wave nonchalantly behind him.

Hawks didn't mean to hesitate, but seeing that causal hand wave with the same hand he had just spent nearly 10 minutes holding onto caused his stomach to jump a little. The kind of adrenaline rush he gets when he jumps from a high vantage point, before he extends his wings. That moment of freefall. It was a split, unexpected second, and then he quickly fell into step right behind Dabi, following as ordered.

They reached the stairway door and Dabi opened it, making a show of holding it open for Hawks to walk through. Everything tonight has felt like a series of chess moves, but this so far seemed to be the safest risk yet. His feathers could react to anything Dabi tried faster than his hands anyway. Hawks nodded, striding through the open door confidently. He heard the big heavy rooftop door lock into place behind him before he felt Dabi move. It did not feel like an attack, so his feathers bristled but he kept them in place, letting Dabi enclose his hand around Hawks's wrist and spin Hawks around fully. Dabi stood over Hawks, an inch or two taller, "trapping" the hero against a wall. One hand was holding on to Hawks's wrist, the other was against the wall to the left of Hawks's face, right next to his wing. Dabi grinned, his grip tight but not painful. "I'm intrigued. I wasn't sure you'd follow."

This was the first time the two of them were standing so close together. Hawks could feel Dabi's warm breath against his face. Hawks grinned back, adopting a slightly teasing tone. "Technically, I was the first one in the stairwell, so you followed me."

"Shut up," Dabi growled and kissed Hawks, hard. There was no hint of gentleness or care in the gesture. Dabi's lips parted just enough that Hawks trailed forward, seeking a deeper kiss, as Dabi leaned away. "Hungry, aren't you?"

Hawks looked at Dabi's piercing blue eyes and gave him a smug, lopsided grin. "I could eat," he said with a shrug, feigned nonchalance that didn't fool either of them.

Dabi chuckled. He let go of Hawks's wrist and ran his thumb slowly over his lips, keeping eye contact. There seemed to be a decision point happening that Hawks was not invited to, and suddenly Dabi took a step back and looked away, at the stairwell ahead of them.

"Not tonight," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking forward. "But, thanks. For back there."

Hawks stayed against the wall, looking at the man walking slowly away from him. "Y-yeah," he stammered, mostly on purpose. "Next time, then."

Dabi chuckled again, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell as he started descending, with Hawks following behind.

[tropicalsuki]

Do You Copy? - Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n, Steve’s girlfriend of over a year, is gone all of summer for a camp counselor job in the middle of nowhere, meaning the only way to stay in contact is through letters. Dustin and the party are sick of seeing Steve mope around, so they decide to set up a surprise date between Y/n and Steve. 

warnings: FLUFF, some angst, language, sexual references/making out, slight season 3 spoilers if you squint

word count: 2,566

A/N: this was supposed to go up Monday but my internet went down Sunday night and we just got it back today, so sorry for the delay! I hope you all love it and enjoy! Also, I’m up for writing a part two if enough people want it.

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

Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Will were all at Steve’s house, arguing over what movie to watch. It was their monthly movie night, and everyone was there. Well, almost everyone.

“Does anyone know when the hell Mike and El are gonna be here?” Dustin asked, annoyed with their constant flaking. 

“How are we supposed to know? They show up whenever they’re done kissing. It’s bullshit,” Lucas answered.

“Woah, language!” Steve acted offended as he walked into the room with two large bowls of popcorn. Max quickly grabbed one and sank into the couch, shoveling the snack into her mouth. “You better share!” Lucas yanked the bowl from her and the two began bickering like they usually did.

Everyone stopped talking when the doorbell rang.

 “Is it them?” Will asked as Steve went and opened the door. He came back in the room a moment later with a letter in hand. “No, not them. Just the mailman,” Steve said as he opened the letter with a slight smile. 

“Is that another letter?” Lucas asked. Max sat up, interested, “from who? Y/n?”

Steve didn’t answer their questions as he read the letter, a stupid grin on his face. 

“Ooh, let me read it!” Dustin went to grab it but Steve quickly yanked his arm away, “no, absolutely not! This is a private letter for my eyes only.”

“Aw come on! Let me see!” Dustin complained. As Steve and Dustin were arguing, Max came up behind Steve and grabbed the letter, running to the other side of the room to read it. Steve ran after her, but Lucas, Will, and Dustin tackled him as Max began reading aloud.

“’It’s only been a month since I left, but it feels like forever. I’m counting down the days until I come back to Hawkins. I miss the sound of your voice and the smell of your cologne and the way you kiss me and how you-’ ohmygod, you two are disgusting!” Max stopped reading, her face going red. 

“What? What does it say?” Lucas demanded.

“Read it for yourself! I’m not saying that out loud,” Max shook her head. 

“Will you all stop?! That’s a private letter!” Steve yelled.

Lucas and Will ran over to Max, peering over her shoulder to read the rest of the note. Dustin didn’t budge from his spot on top of Steve. As the two boys scanned the page, they went wide eyed. “That is... graphic,” Lucas finally said, trying not to laugh. 

“You two must really love each other,” Will spoke, making Steve sigh. “We do. And that’s why the letter is so important. So can you please give it back?” he asked, defeated. Dustin got off of him and Max handed over the letter. 

“Why don’t you just call her? I don’t see the problem,” Lucas said. 

“Because they don’t have phones in the middle of the woods, dipshit,” Max snipped. 

“Jesus, I forgot. No need to be so rude,” Lucas huffed as Steve got up, the doorbell ringing once more. Will ran towards the front entrance. 

“Mike and El are here!” Will called, walking back into the room a moment later with the the two teens in tow. 

“About time” “Great! We can finally start the movie now!” Max and Dustin said at once. Lucas went over to the tv, shoving the VHS into the slot. 

“What movie?” El asked, picking up the bowl of popcorn that Max left on the table. 

“Monty Python and the Holy Grail; only one of the best movies of all time,” Will stated excitedly. “Ooh, good choice,” Mike flopped down on the couch, pulling El down beside him. The others got comfy and happily chatted away as the movie began. Max shushed loudly when the opening credits were over and everyone quieted down. 

Throughout the movie, as everyone was laughing and making comments, Steve stayed quiet. Dustin took notice and waited for his chance to talk to the others. When Steve left to go to the bathroom, Dustin ran over to the tv and paused the movie.

“Dude! Why’d you stop it? This is the best part!” Mike complained. Lucas and Max chimed in with agreement.

“The movie can wait. But right now we need a plan to help Steve. He looks miserable,” Dustin answered. 

“Maybe he does not like Monty Python,” El suggested. Will sighed, “No, Dustin’s right. He’s been acting like this all summer.” 

“Why? Because of Y/n? She’s coming back in, like, three weeks,” Mike shrugged.

Max rolled her eyes, “please, Michael, if El was gone for half that long, you’d be complaining everyday.”

Mike didn’t respond, knowing she was right. 

Dustin nodded decidedly, “alright then. What’s the plan?”

-

Steve told the group he was going to the bathroom, quickly leaving and heading up to his room. He wanted to have a fun evening, he really did, but the letter stuck in his head and he couldn’t think of anything else. 

Walking over to his desk, Steve opened a drawer and set the new letter over a pile of identical ones. You and Steve sent letters back and forth at least once a week, but it still wasn’t enough. All he asked for was to hear your voice, but not even that wasn’t possible. Two months away as a camp counselor in the middle of fucking nowhere. Steve thought he would be fine without you for that long. 

He was wrong. 

Steve snapped out of his thoughts and closed the drawer, taking a deep breath before heading back downstairs. As he reentered the living room, the kids immediately stopped talking, all turning to look at him. 

“What did I miss? Did something happen?” Steve asked, looking between the six of them. 

“Nope. Nothing at all,” Lucas said casually.

“We were just waiting for you to come back. So we can keep watching,” Max added. Dustin quickly got up and started the movie again. 

Steve was too mentally exhausted to care what they were talking about, so he sat back down without question. 

-

A week passed before you got another letter in the mail. But it wasn’t from Steve. This time, it was from Dustin Henderson, claiming that Steve was in the hospital and you needed to come home immediately. 

As soon as you read the letter, you ran to your boss with tears in your eyes, begging to be sent home early. Your boss knew there was no hope in arguing, so he complied, and you sent off a letter to Dustin saying you were on your way back to Hawkins as soon as possible.

“Y/n’s coming back!” Dustin announced, waving the letter in his hand as he walked into Mike’s basement. 

“I still don’t think it was a good idea to lie to her about Steve,” Max replied. 

“She’s probably gonna have a heart attack before she gets here,” Lucas agreed. 

“Listen, I know it was messed up, but we literally haven’t seen Steve leave his house in over a week. It was necessary,” Dustin defended himself, but the others didn’t seem convinced. Dustin continued, “Y/n will be at the airport tomorrow at noon. We need to meet her there before she goes looking for Steve.”

“That’s nice and all, but how are we going to get there? None of us can drive,” Max pointed out. The others looked at each other knowingly, already having two people in mind.

-

“You told her Steve was in the hospital?!” Nancy exclaimed, looking at the six kids in front of her like they were insane before turning to her boyfriend, “Jonathan, did you know about this?”

Jonathan shook his head, “I did not. Because if I did, I would of told them it was a stupid and cruel idea.”

“That’s what I said!” Will huffed.

“Look, I fucked up. I get it. But it’s already done, so can we move forward please?” Dustin said, frustrated. 

“Yeah, whatever. It’s 11:30 so we need to go,” Nancy and Jonathan got up, leading the younger teens outside and to the car. Nancy got in the drivers seat and took them all to the airport.

When the group finally saw you coming off the flight, you were a mess. Your eyes were red from crying and your clothes and hair were all over the place. You spotted the eight of them and ran over, dropping your bags to pull Nancy into a hug, “oh god, it’s so good to see you.”

Nancy smiled, hugging you back, “I know, I missed you. We all did.”

You pulled away, looking at everyone carefully. “Is... is he okay?” you asked quietly, scared of what the answer may be. 

They all glanced at one another, silently arguing over who was going to tell you that Steve was perfectly fine. You took their silence as the exact opposite, and suddenly began crying. Jonathan pulled you into a comforting hug as Mike elbowed Dustin hard, forcing him to speak.

“No! No, don’t cry. Steve’s ok. He’s perfectly fine, and not in the hospital. He never was... I, uh, lied. to get you to come home early,” Dustin explained quickly. 

You moved away from Jonathan, your sadness and worry turning to confusion then anger, “what?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that,” Dustin gave you the sweetest smile he could manage. 

“You lied about my boyfriend being in the hospital?! I left my job and paid for a last minute plane ticket - and for what? What was this all for for?!” you said angrily, trying your best to keep your voice from rising. 

“Steve has been miserable all summer. But it’s gotten worse the past few weeks. We wanted him to feel better, and the only way to do that was to bring you home,” Will stepped in to explain. You sighed, having a hard time to get mad at Will; he always meant well no matter how messed up the idea. 

“Where is he? Does he know I’m here?” you questioned, wanting to see him as soon as possible. 

“No! No, he doesn’t. He can’t. We have this whole plan and we’re gonna surprise him so you can’t see him until tonight,” Lucas said quickly. 

You didn’t want to wait that long, but you doubted the kids would let you anywhere near Steve before their plan was complete. So you looked to Nancy instead, “this has all been very emotionally draining. And I need a drink.”

Nancy smiled knowingly, “I got you covered. Let’s go back to my house.” 

You nodded heavily and turned back to the kids, “you can tell me your ridiculous plan on the way there... and this doesn’t mean I’m not still beyond pissed at you all.”

The six of them nodded quickly, not wanting to push you. You followed Nancy outside, Jonathan grabbing your bags for you and hurrying after the group.

-

Dustin, El, and Mike banged on Steve’s door. He didn’t answer the first time, so they persisted. Finally the door was yanked open and Steve answered with groan, “what?!”

“We have a surprise for you,” Dustin grinned. 

“Does it involve going out?” Steve asked. Dustin nodded. “Then I’m not interested,” Steve decided. 

“Just listen to us! It’s about Y/n,” Mike said quickly.

Dustin began explaining before Steve could say anything, “we’ve been trying to find away to get into contact with Y/n, and we finally figured it out. You know my ingenious invention, Cerebral? Well, we sent a letter to Y/n and there’s a way you’ll be able to talk to each other!” 

Steve watched him, a blank expression on his face, “nice idea, but that’s not possible. If phones don’t work there, how is your stupid little radio going to?”

“It’s different. Landlines and radios work on different frequencies, and interact in different ways. There’s no phones at Y/n’s camp, but there’s radios. So it’ll work. We’ve tested it,” Dustin insisted, trying his best to be convincing. 

“It’s true,” El nodded. Mike smiled at Steve in support. 

Steve was desperate, and willing to try anything, “fine. When?”

“In an hour. So go take a shower - you smell awful,” Mike said. 

-

An hour later, Steve was hiking up to the highest point in Hawkins, while you hid a bit further down on the other side of the hill with Lucas and Max. Dustin, Mike, El, and Will lead Steve to where Cerebral was set up, talking to him about how you were waiting on the other end. 

“This better work or I’m going to beat you with your own equipment,” Steve said to Dustin, no hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

“It’ll work. I promise,” Dustin assured, sitting down by the main radio. Dustin pretended to work on getting a proper connection, but it seemed to be failing, and Steve was growing impatient. 

“I swear to god, Henderson, you took me all the way up here and got my hopes up and the damn radio wont even work,” he said angrily. 

Dustin didn’t reply, turning a few more knobs as you sneaked up the hill and stood behind Steve.

“Steve?”

When he heard your voice, Steve quickly moved closer to the radio, surprised that it was actually working and how clear your voice sounded, “Y/n? Y/n, is that you?”

“Steve,” you said again, a bit louder, and he froze, realizing the voice wasn’t coming from the radio. Turning around, his eyes landed on you and a grin spread across his face. 

“Hi,” you grinned back and Steve ran over, scooping you up in a tight hug and spinning you around, both of you laughing from happiness. 

He put you down and pulled you into a deep kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The kids watched on, proud of their work. 

“You came home,” Steve stated, keeping you close. 

“The kids told me you were in the hospital. I came home as soon as I could. They were lying, obviously,” you explained. Steve was too happy to have you back to be mad about that right now, so instead he just pulled you closer to him.

“I missed you so much,” you breathed, running your hands down his chest and kissing him. Steve kissed you back with an almost desperation, and the six kids realized things were about to get heated. 

“Should, we uh...,” Lucas trailed, pointing down to the bottom of the hill. “Yep. Mmhm,” the others nodded and the group quickly ran off, leaving you and Steve on your own. 

You pulled Steve down so the two of you were laying on the grass, never breaking the kiss in the process. He moved you on top of him, running his hands through your hair. You pulled away slightly to catch your breath, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. It hurts how much I love you,” Steve answered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Did you get my last letter?” you asked as you ran a hand across his cheek. 

“I sure did,” Steve smiled slightly.

“I meant every word. And those things I promised I’d do to you when I got back...,” you started playfully, but was cut off when Steve rolled you over so he was hovering over you.

“I know you’d never break a promise. So just kiss me, idiot,” Steve said teasingly. You grinned and pulled him down to meet your lips once more. 

-

End.

[starting-now]

Never- Pt. 1 (Barry x Reader)

Requests:  

Could u write something where reader and Barry are dating and very in love but she’s really sweet and innocent so he’s really nervous to have to tell her about his hit man past?

Hi! I was wondering if you could do something where the reader finds out about Barry being a hit man and the they’re a bit scared??? I really love your writing btw! Thanks :)

A/N: I decided to combine these two and make it a two part series!! So watch out for part two soon!! Thank you so much for the requests!!

Word Count: 2208

Warnings: blood, mentions of violence, swearing

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

The sunlight filtered through the blinds of your room. The soft light illuminated everything from the light wooden floors to the arrangement of small plants on the windowsill. You looked around sleepily and turned, slinging  your arm around Barry lazily. He stirred a bit before settling once again. You smiled at his sleeping expression, following the curves and features of his face with your eyes. You reached a hand up to run through his soft brown hair, earning a quiet  groan from your boyfriend, who’s eyes fluttered open. A smile spread across his face and he turned onto his side to face you. His hand came up to cup your cheek and he pulled you in for a kiss.

“Good morning.” he said lazily.

“Good morning to you too.” you responded and sat up, flinging the white comforter off of you both. Barry groaned  dramatically and sat up, reaching over to the bedside table to check his phone.

“Oh shit.” he said and rubbed his eyes, quickly sliding out of bed and gathering his clothes from the previous day.

“What’s going on babe?”  you asked, concerned.

“Oh, sorry I just totally forgot I have this work thing.” Barry said offhandedly

You furrowed your brow “I hate work things. I wish you could just stay home.” you responded and wrapped your arms around Barry from behind as he sat on the edge of the bed tying his shoes.

He sighed heavily. “I wish I could too. But I promise I’ll see you later. I mean I’ll definitely see you in class anyways.” he said with a small smile.

“I’ll hold you to that.” you said and quickly pressed your lips to his jawline.

Barry stood up  and gathered the rest of his things hurriedly, walking out of your room. You followed him.

“Alright, well, bye I guess.” you said poutily but then smiled at him. Barry turned around and walked up to you, enveloping you in a tight hug and kissing the top of your head.

“I’ll see you in class.” he  said raising his eyebrows.You shot finger guns back at him.

“In class.” you repeated.

Barry walked out of your house, looking back at you leaning against the doorframe with a smile and waving him off. His expression softened for a moment, but the worry lines above his brows soon returned. He hated lying to you like this. I guess it wasn’t lying persay, he WAS going to a work thing, but definitely not what you would assume. He had to meet Fuches for a briefing on his next hit. He wanted more than anything to skip it and stay at home with you. You brought out the best in him, and he couldn’t get enough of being around you no matter what you two did. He got in his car and gave one final glance to your door, where you waved to him one more time and blew a kiss at him before walking inside. He smiled, and memories filled his brain from when he confessed his feelings for you.

-

“Barry, you okay?” you asked, waving a hand in front of his mesmerized face. You were wearing a blue sweater tucked into jeans and you shyly fixed your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. He glanced around nervously and gave a half hearted chuckle.

“Oh um, yea sorry.” he responded

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll see you next class?” you asked turning to  leave.

“Hey, (Y/N), before you go, I wanted to ask you something.” he said. You tilted your head at him quizzically.

“Yea what’s up?” you responded, your heart rate increasing.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and mustering the most confident voice he could manage, which was not very convincing. You smiled wide in a way that crinkled your nose and Barry’s heart fluttered.

“I...would love that actually.” you said, trying to hold back some of your excitement, which was again, not very convincing. Barry smiled, a real, genuine smile with teeth which wasn’t something he normally did. You turned to walk away and looked back at him.

“Text me!” you said, blowing him a kiss and bouncing away from him to your car.

-

Barry returned from his thoughts and turned on his car, finally on his way to meet Fuches. He gripped the steering wheel nervously. Everytime he followed this path, of violence and death, he felt the knot in his stomach grow bigger and bigger, and felt himself lose a little more control in his own life. He had no idea what you would do if you found out, but you wouldn’t find out. You couldn’t. He had already lost so much and he couldn’t lose you. He was caught in a vicious cycle. Everytime he thought itd be his last hit, he got reeled back in to this fucking mess.

His mind was continually distracted through his meeting with Fuches, he figured he got the most important things. All of his hits seemed to blend into one another after a while. This guy is a rival mob boss, this ones a snitch, blah blah blah go kill him and we’ll pay you, and if you don’t we’ll kill you. He mostly just nodded while Fuches talked.

His attention was brought back into focus as Fuches snapped a couple times in front of his face.

“Barry, are you listening to me? Today. It has to be done today.” he said assertively, gesturing to the manilla folder.

Barry glanced around nervously, “Oh, I uh, can’t do that. I have class.” he responded quietly.

“You’re not serious. You mean that dumb little acting class you’ve been doing?” Fuches asked incredulously.

“It’s really important to me can’t this wait?” Barry asked, but he knew Fuches wouldn’t budge.

“No it can’t. Frankly we’ve kept the Chechens waiting on this one way too long, you’re lucky they haven’t taken us  ‘off the job’ if you catch my drift.” Fuches said, raising his eyebrows.

Barry sighed heavily. “Alright. But this is it. I’m done after this, right?” he asked, and Fuches nodded, dusting off his hands in a motion that said ‘finished’. Barry grabbed the file on his mark and walked out the door. He headed back to your place to grab his clothes and some supplies, waiting to go in until you had left to run some errands. Once he was prepared, he headed to the location of the hit. There were two hours left before class, if he was quick enough he might be able to make it. He told you he’d be there and he didn’t want to let you down even more than he felt that he had.

-

You arrived at class a few minutes early and walked in, expecting to see Barry in his usual seat, but he was nowhere to be found. You didn’t think too much of it, but as time went on you began to worry. He said he’d be there, and when you checked your phone you didn’t have any messages from him. Barry wasn’t the type of guy to flake out like this, especially without letting you know. After class you stood outside the building and dialed Barry’s number, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt while it rang, no answer. You called a couple more times, each with no answer, and the panic began to settle in the pit of your stomach.

You walked briskly to your car, calling him one more time and leaving a voicemail as you drove towards his apartment.

“Hey Barry, sorry if this is weird or if you’re just at work, I’m just getting worried because you weren’t in class and you aren’t picking up. Hope you’re okay. I love you.” you said and hung up.

Once you got to his apartment you walked up the stairs and knocked lightly on the door. You knew you’d feel silly if he was fine and just at home or work, but you’d rather know for sure. No answer. The panic grew. Another knock, harder this time. No answer.

You hustled back down the stairs and got in your car, heading home. You figured he could be there, and if he wasn’t it’d be just as good of a place to wait for him as any.

On the drive home you couldn’t stop fidgeting. Biting your nails, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel and running a shaking hand through your hair. A notification lit up your phone screen and your heart stopped, but it was just a class message from Sally about the next performance. The tears welled up in your eyes instantly from the false relief. You pulled over in your neighborhood and started crying, letting the tears fall harshly down your face. This was so unlike him. You were worried that something was seriously wrong. You took a deep breath and pulled yourself together enough to finish the drive to your house.

You walked inside, quickly setting down your things and walking through the kitchen into your bedroom but something caught your eye and you froze, turning back towards the table. There  was a manilla folder sitting on the counter. You knew it hadn’t been there when you left, so you grabbed it and opened it frantically for any sign of clues.

It was a file on...someone. You had never seen him before. The first page contained a physical description and a standard picture, kind of like a resume if someone else wrote it about him. Your hand flew over your mouth flipping through the pages, which contained dozens of what seemed to be surveillance photos, as well as an envelope containing $15,000 in cash. Your eyes widened in horror and confusion, but before you had a chance to look any further, you heard the door to  your house open suddenly and you jolted backwards.

Barry came running into the kitchen wide eyed, his hair disheveled a cut above his left eye as well as his nose bleeding heavily. He stopped dead in his tracks when he  saw you, clutching the manilla folder, your hands shaking violently. The pit that had been in his stomach had now expanded to his entire body. He stood still as a statue, as if somehow you wouldn’t notice he was there and he wouldn’t have to live through his worst nightmare.

The tears flowed steadily out of your eyes but you managed to speak.

“What the fuck is this, Barry?” you asked in a broken voice that sunk Barry’s heart even further.

“I-..I can explain.” he managed to say, his mind buzzing with anxiety and guilt.

“Then start explaining.” you choked out.

And he tried his best. He started with the Marines, how Fuches took him in, all the way through Chris and Detective Moss. He cried the entire time, his expressions all but pleading for you to forget the entire situation.

And you listened. As hard as it was, you listened. As much as you wanted to sob and scream or wake up as if this were a nightmare, you listened to every word he said in disappointment and disbelief. You hung on every word, and you had never been more conflicted in your life.

There he was, the love of your life, spilling his heart  out to you. And of course you wanted to run up and hug him and support him and tell him everything would be okay. But you weren’t sure if you even recognized the person standing before you. You were horrified that the man you loved would be capable of doing these things. You felt the energy leave your body until you were an empty husk. You had no tears left to cry for him today, but the sadness only continued to grow with no sign of relief. Barry finished his explanation in shambles, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the blood from his injuries. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“...I..I think you should go.” you said joylessly. You didn’t want to deal with any of this right now. Maybe ever. You couldn’t.

Barry took a few steps towards you and you backed away from him in response. He turned away in shame, the flow of tears only worsening, blurring his vision. He was crushed. You would never look at him the way you used, never press your lips to his, never laugh at one of his feeble attempts at a joke, never wrap your arms around him in the morning as the sun filtered through the blinds, never blow him another kiss. And he knew it was all his fault. He was a monster, and there was no more hiding from it, no more pretending that he was actually the good guy. He clenched his fist tightly, his fingernails digging into his palms.

“I’m s-so sorry.” he choked out through a sob. He slowly turned and walked out the door. He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see you leaning against the door frame. But of course, you weren’t. He walked out into the darkness of the night, nearly collapsing with every step, unsure of his destination.

-----

Part Two: https://starting-now.tumblr.com/post/187787902286/never-pt-2-barry-x-reader

[general-fanfiction]

It’s A Boring Story. (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Summary: Sweet Pea remembers the story of how he ended up dating a Northsider.

Word Count: 2,073

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Swearing? Self Harm, Sexual Harassment.

Third Person POV. She was shy, sweet and quiet. He was confident, rude and loud. They were the last people anybody would have expected to get together. Yet it happened. The intimidating lion was dating the timid mouse. It was completely cliché, but still people couldn't get enough of their relationship. Even Cheryl Blossom, the school's queen bee, was desperate for details. Though, it was safe to say, Y/N and Sweet Pea were rather private when it came to their relationship. It wasn't that they didn't want anybody to know, in fact they didn't care about people knowing of their relationship. It was simply that they would rather not have anybody getting involved. Meddling in something so personal to each of the teenagers could severely damage the strong bond they had built between one another. Neither one of them was prepared to risk that. "You've been dating this Northsider for months now. Surely you've defiled the angel by now." Fangs' comment caused Sweet Pea to clench his teeth. Especially when he used the name 'angel'. That was his nickname for her, not that anybody knew that of course. The Serpent turned his attention to the row of lockers across from him, gazing at the girl in question. A soft smile set upon his features as he watched her skirt ride up her thighs hen she lifted her arm, reaching for the top shelf in her locker. Fangs gently nudged his taller friends, causing his eyes to land back on him. "You waste too much time prying into my relationship." As the words tumble from Sweet Pea's mouth, three people appear by their side. Three females. Cheryl Blossom, Toni Topaz and Betty Cooper. Their eyes follow Sweet Pea's, all three pairs landing on Y/N, who now stands in conversation with Kevin Keller. Cheryl and Toni glance at each, knowing looks on both of their faces. The boy has fallen off the deep end and now he's drowning. He knows it too. Even if he doesn't want to admit it. "You love her." Cheryl points out, looking between Sweet Pea and his girlfriend. Pea is taken back by the comment, eyebrows knitting together. Toni laughs softly at his lack of speech. Fangs punches his friend, happy that finally he has done some good for himself. Sweet Pea lets his shoulders fall, releasing a deep breath as he silently admits to the group that they're correct. "I never thought I would see the day that Sweet Pea fell in love." Toni smirks as she speaks, pleased that if anybody could make her best friend happy that it was Y/N. "So I think everybody is wondering the same thing. How did you two end up together?" Betty asks curiously, prepared to be shot down completely, like any other time a question has been asked about their relationship. Pea watches his girlfriend as she moves, her hands gently tugging on the soft, woolly sweater that hangs delicately off her small frame. The way her hair falls around her face messily, causing her to continuously push it behind her ears. He remembers the first time he ever saw her do that. Actions so small but somehow beautiful to him. Despite meeting under such strange circumstances, the Serpent knows he wouldn't have it any other way. Eight Months Ago. Y/N's POV. Honeydew's Tattoo Studio isn't the most ideal job, especially for a sixteen year old girl. I'm the lowly receptionist, simply taking bookings and greeting those that arrive for their appointments. It's a pretty simple job, so long as you don't mind the long hours. Which I don't. I'm on my own tonight, the owner's are out of town at some convention. They were considering closing the studio, however, decided against it at the possibility of losing clients. I offered to cover the weekend shifts, it's less depressing than staying in my bedroom all day. The sky begins to darken as the sun sets over the large row opposite the shop. Flicking the lights on, I smile slightly, the entire place instantly ten times brighter. It gives off a friendly vibe, it's welcoming. Well, as welcoming as a place with black walls can be. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I open the messaging app. Hoping that I'll find a text from my mother. Much like usual, I find that I have no new notifications. At this point, I'm not too sure why I bother to look. She hasn't been in contact in years, despite her promises to do so. I guess I just assumed because she was my mother she would care, but clearly I was mistaken. Placing my phone on the desk, I open the drawer slowly. Eyes falling on the small bag of blades that I carry everywhere with me. Pulling on my sweater sleeve, I graze my hand over the rows of scars. Some old, some new. The fresh ones are obvious. Still red, dying to open once again. Instinctively my hand reaches out for the bag, but as the door to the shop flies open I yank down my sleeve and shove the drawer shut. "Listen I'm in deep shit and I need your help. Please just let me hide out here for fifteen minutes or so." The boy is out of breath, face red from either the cold or running. My guess is a combination of both. I don't speak, simply grab his hand and lead him towards the staff toilets. His hands are huge compared to mine, my fingertips pressed gently on the palm of his hand. When I open the door, he shoots me a wide grin, happily entering the small room without question. Turning the key, I lock the door, making sure that I can do whatever it takes to keep him safe. By the looks of it, he needs it. Slipping the key into the small metal safe, hidden behind a rather large mirror, I manage to convince myself that I've done a pretty good job. My nerves slowly beginning to fade. That is until I hear the door of the shop open for the second time this evening. Several pairs of footsteps entering the building. Taking a deep breath, I round the corner, allowing my presence to be known. Three men stand by the door, each holding baseball bats riddled with nails. Slowly my eyes make their way up to the faces of the men. Based off the studded jackets and downright ragged appearances, I'd assume the men are Ghoulies. Gulping slightly, I watch as one of them makes his way towards me. The hair on top of his head is immensely curly and I try to keep my focus on that so I don't have to stare into his hollow, emotionless eyes. "You know where our friend is? He swung by here a few minutes ago." He asks, voiced sweet almost as though he is talking to a child. Shaking my head slightly, I feel myself filling with dread at the possibility of what may happen. Of what these men are capable of. The curly haired man raises his baseball bat, swinging it into the computer that sits on top of the desk. Wincing at the noise, I do nothing to stop as they make their way through to the back. Following quietly, they all look rather amused as they peer around the room. "He wouldn't happen to be in that room there would he?" Before I even have time to answer his question, he is striding over. Hand on the doorknob, pulling on it as hard as he physically can. No matter how much he struggles with it, the door won't budge and the frustration is evident on his face. "Where's the key?" He asks, voice impatient and demanding causing me to shrink back. "I don't know. My boss is out of town, they probably have it." I lie, doing my best to make my voice seem convincing despite the present fear. He growls in anger, kicking over a table of ink. Each jar shatters, sending an array of colour to spill across the tiled floor. When my bosses get back, they're going to be pissed. I'm most likely going to get fired, all for the sake of saving one boy that I don't even know. Sometime I really do wonder how I find myself in these situations. "Strip." Raising my eyebrows, I step back nervously. The three men edge closer, cornering me by the desk Shock evident on my face, the leader of the pack places a hand on my face. Although his touch is gentle, I can still feel the aggression behind the movement. "I asked for the fucking key and I don't believe that you don't have it on you. So strip." Small tears escape my eyes as I kick off my shoes. My mom always taught me that if a guy is pressuring you to do something, then just do it. Don't put up a fight, it will only make things worse. Besides, according to her it's better to face a few minutes of embarrassment and pain rather than the consequences of trying to defend myself. Skirt falling to the floor, I daren't look at their faces. Not willing myself to see how much they're enjoying this. Reluctantly, I pull my sweater over my head, leaving myself exposed to the men in front of me. Out of habit, I try to wrap my arms around myself, in a futile attempt to cover myself up. The leader smirks at me as he strides over, placing his hands over my bra clad breasts. Groping and feeling as much as he wanted. Closing my eyes, I try my best to disassociate from the situation. Though, as his hand travels south I find it increasingly difficult. "Stop it, stop please. I think it's pretty obvious that I don't have the key, so just leave. Please." I whimper softly, pushing on the man's chest, desperate for him to get away from me. He grabs my wrist, fingers tracing along the deep gashes that I made the night before. A deep, cynical laugh escapes his mouth. His goons soon joining in, laughing at my weakness. I've never felt so small, so humiliated. I've never wanted to die as much as I have in this very moment. "Grow up little girl. Cutting is so 2012." When he lets go of my arm, my back slides down the wall behind me. Collapsing into a ball on the floor, I let myself break down. I feel like I'm in heaven when I hear the door close behind them. Though, I can't get over the harsh words and the torture they made me endure. My body shakes violently as I quickly pull on my clothes, knowing that I need to let the boy out of the toilet. The moment the door clicks open, his arms wrap around me in a smothering hug. His hand rests on the back of my head, allowing me to sob into his chest. Not caring about anything else other than making sure that I'm comfortable. "Thank you." He whispers into my hair, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. Clutching at his shirt, I mumble a soft apology which he quickly brushes away. Instead he insists I talk to him. Insists I tell him everything. From what happened with my mother, to what I just experienced, to my problem with self harm. I've never spoken to anybody about my problems before but I manage to let everything out. The boy listening intently to everything I have to say. "You know you're going to be okay. I'm going to make sure of it. I'll be there for you, every step of the way. Just as long as you know you can trust me." He tells me, pulling me in for yet another hug. His arms engulf my small body, yet I don't mind at all. Everything about him is intoxicating, in a good way. From his scent to his height to his voice, it makes me feel safe. He makes me feel safe. Third Person POV. Sweet Pea smiles shyly as he remembers every detail of that night. As he does this, he feels grateful that he and his girlfriend decided to keep things very private within their relationship. Simply because he wanted to keep this story for himself. "It's a boring story. Trust me."