#god i wish that me hating that man made him unsuccessful

[omegalomania]

the way mania haters talk about mania is so funny they're like "this album almost KILLED fall out boy's CAREER this album lost them SO MUCH MONEY mania FLOPPED everyone HATED it" they talk about it like fob had to sell their kidneys to keep touring on the thing. like. mania? the album that debuted at number one? the album with last of the real ones on it, the song that fans loved so much that they got it certified gold despite the label doing absolutely nothing to support it or push it for radio in the slightest? the album that got fall out boy a grammy nomination? that album? you can call it polarizing if you want but you can't say it didn't do a hell of a lot for an album that had a first single with such an eclectic reception

[imaslutforwritingshit]

A Dangerous Wish

(A Miguel O’Hara x Fem (spider-girl) reader, short story. Part One)

SMUT, NSFW

WARNINGS- nsfw, slight sadism,rough sex, teasing, bondage (f and m receiving), bj, fingering, hair pulling, sub to dominant switch, submissive reader, handcuffs, wounds, minor gun play, thigh riding, ENEMIES TO LOVERS

Pro tip- slowed Weeknd songs work best with this smut story lol

Finally. He was finally mine.

On the dark, smooth floor, littered with scratches and streaks of blood, Miguel was on his knees.

I had just managed to chain him to the rectangular pole over his head. Strong, power-draining handcuffs wrapped around his thick wrists. We were in the basement of the Spider Society, the unauthorized area Miguel doesn’t let his team see. But I was here, even if the webs strapped to my hands were under shaking palms. I had finally won.

Two years of chasing the leader of the Spider Society, only our brief, unsuccessful fights being the interactions we had between each other. And for the entirety of those two years, the strong and dangerous man had been possessing my mind.

Now what? He’s all mine. I could kill him. Ruin him.

Or, maybe, I could do what I always wanted to. A deep desire my body craved when I was around Miguel O’Hara, no matter how much I hated it. I wanted those eyes on me. The red, powerful eyes now hidden under the swoops of his tussled and damp hair.

His head was dropped in defeat, the talons sticking from his fingers hanging in mid-air, and rips in his suit exposing his bronze skin under the low LED lights. I let my body fall into an intimidating walk, slinking my hips as I moved closer to him. His chest was rising and falling, the sharp, heavy pants of his breath created a strange sensation in my stomach.

Miguel’s eyes trailed over my figure as he looked up, the red of his pupils almost purple in the dark. I took of my gloves slowly, letting the moment drag in painful build up. Miguel’s eyes devoured the sight of my fingers, as if every piece of open skin was killing him. I dropped the gloves, one sliding down the plane of his thigh.

“What do you want?” Miguel’s voice was raw, broken and hoarse with anger. The lowness of his words caused a shiver up my spine, but I stiffened my body to hide it.

“Oh, O’Hara.” My words were thick with mockery, and I let my nail drag up his throat, tipping his chin up with my index finger. He grit his teeth, trying to move his head away, but the pain prevented him from completing the action. I dug my red nail under his jaw, and Miguel leaned his head back. My sly smile felt natural, though I was forcing my teeth to stop shivering from the adrenaline of catching my enemy.

“I think you already know what I want.” I dropped to my knees in front of him, and jerked the chains holding his arms up towards me. He inhaled breathlessly as I forced his body towards mine. “To destroy you.”

At those words, an unusual smirk played on Miguel’s lips. Lips so close to mine, I felt like I wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

“And how so, hermosa?” His eyes dropped to my body again, and I suddenly felt like the tightness of latex around my breasts was a bad choice. “You gonna kill me?”

I laughed at that, and dropped my hands from him. “Death would be a relief. I want to have my fun with you.”

Miguel let his head fall back lazily, and a slow grin spread on his lips. “Oh, but I really need relief right now, (y/n).”

The double meaning of his words made my face turn a hot shade of pink.

I shook my head, and stood up, making a small tsk sound with my tongue. As I paced around the room, Miguel slowly rose to his feet with pained grunts. But I’m surprised he could even stand up after the way I beat him up. I suppose the super strength Miguel had also included super-healing capabilities.

Miguel was easily one or more feet over me. He towered over my body so heavily, I felt dumb for even existing around him, even if he’s the one under my control now. God, I’ve dreamt of this day for ages- but now I have no idea what to do.

“You gonna take these cuffs off my hands, (y/n)? Or am I gonna have to ask nicely?” Miguel’s voice was too confident, too sarcastic for my satisfaction. I had captured him, not the other way around.

I whipped around, aiming for his mouth, and shot a jumble of webs from my shooters. His lips were covered in threads of silk, bonded strong enough to shut his ass up.

Miguel growled, his mouth bounded by the white web, jerking his body roughly, as if that would help the situation. With the rage fogging over his bright eyes, the rips showing his sweaty, sleek abdomen, the veins on his hands lit like fire under the light-

Fuck. He looked really, really hot.

I ignored my thoughts and stomped to him, practically cowering under his large frame.

“Let me talk for once. I want to say a million things to you, but I can’t. Because I can’t waste my time on you anymore.” I paused, then averted my eyes to his, watching the anger dissipate from his irises.

“You ruined my life. You took everything from me,” I curled my fists. “You took everything from me for some fucking mission, some personal problem. So fuck you.”

The last sentence was rough, the words hardly leaving my mouth. Miguel’s eyes dropped, staring at my blood on my floor. As if he felt anything for me.

I should probably stitch the wound. Miguel had scraped my body all over my arms and legs in a cat fight. We were both physically weary from the fight, but yearning for the sweet revenge of true dominance.

We were still hungry for more.

I turned around swiftly, walking to the small station on the other side of the room. It had everything I needed- a first aid kit, radio, a gun.

I didn’t want to do what I had to do next. Kill Miguel.

But what other choice did I have?

I suddenly heard a footstep, too close to me, too heavy to belong to anyone else except the one person I hated the most.

“Fuck you? That’s a bold statement. I didn’t know you wanted me like that, cariño.” Míguela deep chuckle caused my heart to sink to my stomach. Because there’s only one way he could talk- if he took the webs off his mouth.

And the only way he could’ve done that, was by escaping.

I swung my body instantaneously on the ceiling before Miguel lunged at me, claws skimming the thin fabric of my stomach.

I dropped down, rolling into a fighting stance. How the hell did he escape? The chains that once held Miguel down were snapped, the shiny metal dropped into little rings on the ground. Even the handcuffs were snapped into multiple pieces. I whirled my head to the gun- now is my only chance.

But though I ran to the table again, frantically sweeping my hands on the wood, the gun had disappeared.

A small click sounded from the corner of the basement, so close to me that I flinched.

“Looking for this, pretty girl?”

And ever so carefully, I turned to see Miguel’s muscular forearm pointed at my chest.

The gun in his fist.

I backed away, my feet tripping on the legs of the table. Miguel’s face was dark, relishing in my fear. He cornered me, eventually letting his thigh uncomfortably press my legs away from each other.

“Pu-put it down.” The stammer in my voice was embarrassing, but I can’t imagine Miguel with more power than he already had. He could kill me right now.

Miguel made a small humming sound, and tapped the gun on my beating heart. “Say please.”

My dignity had escaped my body within the seconds. My teeth were grinding together, as I mumbled, “Please.”

Miguel clicked his tongue, and slid the gun to my collarbone, letting the muzzle of the weapon form small circles on my skin. I shivered, dropping my head back from fear, and something else I couldn’t name. “Oh, (y/n). That’s not enough for me, baby. Louder.”

I sucked in a breath, my focus heightened on the metal, cold and powerful over my skin. “Please.” My voice was louder, but that didn’t stop the shake in my pitch.

He nodded with satisfaction, the dark glint in his eyes growing. He pressed the gun in the crook of my neck, letting it trail over my throat. “Good. Keep being good for me, cariño. Because chaining me up,” he paused, shaking his head. “That disappointed me.” He softened his voice, the low taunts dragging out of his fanged mouth. “You love acting out, don’t you?” His eyes dropped to the metal pressing into my throat. “I might just have to punish you for that.”

I shook my head frantically, clenching my fists. How could he be so strong? Escape me so fast?

Miguel raised his eyebrow, stepping closer. His leg was now pressed completely against me, filling the area between my thighs. I wasn’t during if he noticed, but the pressure caused a wave of butterflies to cluster in my stomach. “No? You don’t want that?”

I nodded again, wishing for any relief away from the gun on my body. “No.”

Miguel grinned devilishly, and pressed the gun to the side of my throat with renounced force. “Then prove it to me.”

“What?” My voice was breathless, and I shifted on his leg.

Miguel’s eyes dropped to the low of my suit, where my hips were rolled against his muscular thigh. He clenched his jaw, and looked up at me again, strands of his hair falling in his eyes.

And those eyes had an unfamiliar blaze to them-

Desire.

“I want you to beg me to stop. I don’t think you understand how much I enjoy this.” He let his tongue slide over his teeth, and then tilted his head with dark curiosity. “Beg for your life.”

Miguel stepped all the way over my body, slamming one hand on the table near my own. I could feel his rapid breath on my jawline, the potent smell of spiced cologne on his body meeting my nostrils. “I want you to understand just how much power I have over you.”

The words hit me like a wave, throwing me over. My eyes widened, and I stared, blinking at his prideful expression. I couldn’t let my sexual ideas get in the way of this. Miguel is a dangerous man, a weapon in hand.

“Fuck no,” I sputtered out. “Just kill me. I-I would rather die.” I tilted my head up, and closed my eyes, awaiting the sound of the trigger firing.

But it never came. I tentatively opened my eyes to see Miguel’s mouth slightly open, corners of his lips twitching to a smile. His fangs seemed to shine purely from my fear. He dropped the gun on the floor, and I flinched. Miguel’s hands pressed to mine before I could attack him, his warm skin and talons awakening a buzz in my core.

Electricity was flowing through the air between us, thick and heavy and dense. I couldn’t think anymore- he was a distraction, a deadly infection over my senses.

Because I wanted more.

Without thinking, I let my body act on the pure instincts I’ve been fighting. My hips ground on Miguel’s muscles, and I clenched my knuckles under his palm.

The act of my body shaking on his made him dig his talons into the wood of the desk. He looked at me with shock, only for a second. And I drowsily stared into his eyes until that shock became lust again. He tensed his biceps, and smirked so confidently it drove me insane.

“Look at you. Having…“fun,” huh?” Miguel watched my hips again, an unnatural spike in his breathing. I couldn’t help my body as I rolled my groin on his hard body again, whimpering from the impact. I could feel the swirl in my gut from him, making the area between my thighs warm. I could feel how wet he was making me.

I think he could, too.

Miguel groaned softly, and the vibrations of his vocal chords sparked a fire inside of me. I began my to harden the pressure of my body on his, and Miguel staggered, letting his head drop near my neck.

“You gonna keep doing that to my thigh, (y/n)? I think you should aim a little higher.” He shifted his body, grabbing my hips and pulling me closer to him. I stifled my gasp. This wasn’t the plan- I shouldn’t be doing this with him.

But it was like I couldn’t control myself anymore. I let soft moans escape my mouth as I began moving my hips over his own.

And an unfamiliar lump under the fabric of his suit met my spread legs. Miguel groaned, and arched his head back, poking the soft skin of my ass.

He was hard.

I had never considered that Miguel would also have the same feelings for me. He let his hard palm slide up the small of my back, and I shivered, clutching his hand. When Miguel’s fingers hooked to the zipper near the neck of my neck, he bit his lip, his dark eyes traveling over the movement of my body. “I never knew you were such a slut, (y/n).”

At that, I dropped my head on his shoulders, rasping for breath. My desire was painful. I needed release from this feeling, and he was the only one who could grant it.

Miguel chuckled, sliding the zipper down slowly, and the cold air of the basement meeting my skin formed goosebumps on my shoulders. The suit fell of my chest, exposing my breasts and stomach. Miguel took a long breath, and snaked his thick hands on my bare waist.

I clenched my teeth together, blinded from the flame of his touch. His fingers met the low of my breast, and I threw my head back, grabbing the muscles of his back. I knew he was playing with me- letting his desire for my pain and pleasure mix into a horrible game.

And a strange part of me loved it.

Miguel bared his fangs, a low growl drawling from his lips. His fingers skimmed the sensitive buds of my nipples, and he let his sharp claws swirl over the area. My thighs clenched at that, pressing my hips over his hardened dick. “Please.”

Miguel jerked my body to his, arching my back with his hand on my spine. His eyes were intense, drowning my body with tingles in each place he let his gaze fall over. “Please, what? Be specific, cariño.”

I heaved a breath. “Touch me.”

Miguel stared up at me, electricity intensifying between us. He slid his hands to my hips, rolling the fabric down my thighs. I rocked my ass up, letting him completely undress me. As I kicked the latex off my body, Miguel quickly pulled my body forward, and I yelped, now completely on my back.

With white knuckles, I reached for the sides of the desk, but Miguel grabbed my arms and pinned them over my head. I squirmed, feeling the liquids of my pussy spilling on the hard wood under me. I was so desperate, and he was toying with me. Teasing me.

“No. I’m not letting you enjoy this yet.” Miguel’s voice was gruff, almost unrecognizable as he yanked my body, an invisible warning. Miguel walked away, quickly coming back. I didn’t know what he brought, until Miguel shoved a ball of fabric in my mouth.

He fucking gagged me with my own glove.

Before I could pull the fabric out of my mouth, Miguel grabbed another article of clothing from the floor- my suit. I furrowed my eyebrows, pleading him to stop- but Miguel clenched his jaw harder, and brought my wrists up. In a couple swift movements, he tied my hands together with my suit, so hard that I could feel the throb of my heartbeat in my wrists. He dropped my limp hands, and grabbed my upper thigh. Miguel, eyes fixated on my crotch, slowly spread my lips. When he saw my wet body, Miguel growled again, biting his lip so hard I was surprised he hadn’t drawn blood.

“Qué zorra tan hermosa.” Miguel let his lip slowly drag from his teeth, and watched my shivering body was a terrifying predatory stare. When he slid two fingers over my clit, spreading my pussy, my eyes widened embarrassingly, and his teasing caused a renounced ache in my stomach. Miguel rubbed his fingers over the base of my cunt, and I arched my back, a silent beg for more. I needed more. Miguel let a finger play with the wet opening of my body, each of his breaths getting harder. I bucked my hips, and Miguel attempted to stifle a groan.

The dark of Miguel’s red irises were blending with the basement dimness. I watched his eyes flicker over my body, and slow penetration of a finger inside of me began to make its way between the folds of my body.

I gasped, choking on the fabric of my glove, and flayed hopelessly on the table. I had no idea how it came to this, why it came to this. But I craved more- I needed him, even if I hated him.

Miguel slid his finger so far it hurt, his retracted nails hitting the delicate sponge of my inner walls. I bucked my hips again, and with that movement, Miguel slid another finger in. I could feel my body clenching on his thick digits, and I curled my toes in anticipation. Miguel groaned at the sight, curling his fingers inside of me.

Each movement was driving me insane. He curled his fingers, slowly progressing to a euphoric pace. Desire was forming in my gut, the string of nerves coming undone with each pattern of his strokes.

I moaned under the fabric in my mouth, and Miguel stabbed his fingers farther inside of me- like my sound deserved punishment.

“Behave, (y/n). You don’t want me to hurt you again, do you?” He let one finger slide on the open wound above my rib cage, and I jerked my body from the white pain. Miguel smiled in a conceited way, and continued the rapid movements of his fingers. I twitched over his hand, feeling the hot rise of pleasure reach my skull. He breathed from his mouth, infatuated with my quivering body. The sight alone made my eyes roll, shivers controlling my body like tides.

“Enjoying yourself?” He laughed, but it was dry if humor. Miguel was turned on by the fact I was in pain. A pain derived of the irresistible desire he caused in me. Miguel pulled his slick fingers from my pussy, and I bit down on my glove from the release of pressure. My jaw ached from the mouthful of cotton, and my arms were sore from the position he put me in. Miguel dropped his eyes to my hips, and grabbed a fist of my hair and turned my body so I laid on my stomach. He massaged my ass greedily, and planted a sharp slap on the fat of my upper cheek. I jerked my head back from the pain, and Miguel laughed, as if this gave him energy. Vitality.

He grabbed the glove in my mouth, shaking it in my gums. “You want me to take this out? Huh?”

I nodded quickly. God, I was almost his toy at this point. Why was I doing everything he said?

Why did I like it?

Miguel chuckled again, and pulled the glove from my mouth. I salivated in my dry mouth, breathing heavily.

Miguel rubbed my chin, and held it up to his eyes. He was stripping from his suit. And making me watch.

My face flushed, even if he had already seen my exposed body- he was forcing me to watch him undress.

Miguel let the silky fabric slide drop from his frame, catching at his hips. His muscular chest rose and fell, the defined abs on his stomach sharpening from the breath. Everything he was doing was turning me on even more, and I hated myself for it.

“I’m gonna fill those pretty lips,” he muttered, so smoothly it made my mouth water for the taste of something I’ve never known. He pushed the fabric all the way down, kicking it off his ankles in a swift movement. My eyes caught his cock, and I exhaled with admiration.

He was erect, veins springing from his thick bronze shaft. The tip of his dick was moist, perfect and way too close to my mouth for me to do anything but try not to whimper. Miguel tilted his head casually, grinding his hips forward on my face. His dick slid against my soft cheek, and I scrunched my brows from the sensation.

I sealed my lips shut. Having him finger me was different- it was an act of pleasure for my benefit. But sucking his dick? It was a silent confirmation that he had complete control.

Miguel began sliding his dick over my cheek repeatedly, letting his head fall forward in concentration. I watched as his lower hips clenched with each movement, the veins meeting light again and again, mesmerizing me with the beauty of his body.

“Open.” Miguel’s voice was rawer than before, husky with the pleasure of my body meeting his edged dick.

I shook my head, biting my cracked lip down. I don’t know if I would even have free will after my mouth met his cock.

Miguel grabbed my scalp, and pulled my hair up, forcing my head all the way back. “Am I gonna have to make you?”

“I-“ My voice was hardly a whisper.

Miguel sprung his talons from his fingers, letting his index finger trail the part of my lips. He dug his finger in the slit of my teeth, and I released the tension of holding myself back. I opened my mouth, feeling the warm, rough skin of his finger pads.

Miguel didn’t hold back the low groan of his finger meeting my wet mouth. Knowing that I made him feel that way- it made me crazy. I rolled my tongue over his finger, like some dog obeying orders. It was like in this moment he was all I knew, all I remembered. Miguel grabbed his cock, letting the tip slide over my lips. And closing my eyes, I opened my mouth all the way, sliding his dick in my mouth, until the tip hit the hard gums of my inner mouth.

Fuck. I’m probably gonna regret this.

That’s it! Part two will be posted per request :)

[starshipsofstarlord]

💕 reader turns into a baby and obsessed with Bucky. Awww 🥺

Infant Issues

bucky barnes x reader / masterlist

warnings; fluff, morgan definitely being tony’s kid, biting, swearing, spoilers for IW and Endgame, mention of the blip, childish behaviour from adults, terrible humour (I really am sorry), spoiler for WV, mention of age gap, kinda a crossover, an absolute mess 😂

“Morgan?” Bucky frowned, as the girl tried to speed past him. It was not wise for anyone to allow the mischievous child run around the compound alone, she always got up to nothing but trouble, and there was such a glazing in her brown eyes.

She didn’t spare him a glance, instead, she bolted, causing the super soldier to sigh. He would have went after her if there weren’t already footsteps recurring from the path that she had just came from; it was his father. It so happened that there was a bundle of joy in his arms, crying like the sudden crack of dawn.

“What were you going to do, wait another five years to tell everyone about this one, Stark?” Bucky asked with a chuckle, though the cries from the infant muted at the sound of his voice. The child wiggled in Tony’s grasp, trying her utmost to reach out for the vibranium armed hero.

“She’s not my daughter, if she was, I think me and you would be having conversations.” Tony’s words spurred a frown to combust out onto Barnes’ face, and the billionaire sighed, shifting the baby so that the baby was in Bucky’s arms.

The child cooed up at him, her eyes were a baby blue, sure to avert possibly into a different colour once she grew elder. “Look, I didn’t ask if I could hold her, she’s cute, but why do you-“

“Morgan did it.” Tony willingly blamed his own daughter. With her various experimentations, she was definitely taking after him. He’d be sure to keep this one quiet from Pepper, otherwise he was almost certain that he’d be banned from bringing Morgan on expeditions to the compound.

“I though y/n was supposed to be watching her.” Stated the enhanced soldier, cocking his head at the information that he recalled. He promptly remembered you abandoning him half way through training the newbie recruits, because Happy was dropping Morgan off, and you had offered watch over her, despite the associate being there.

“She was, and now you’re going to have to watch over her.” Tony pointed specifically to the child in his arms, and that was when realisation hit Bucky. He gulped, breathing through his nose to calm himself, as all the pieces clicked perfectly together.

This was not just a child - it was you. As he gazed down at you, he could finally see the pouted expression that would fixate upon your face when you paid attention to him when you were drunk, there was a glazing over your eyes as you raised your small and innocent hands, scraping down the stubble of his chin, as you curled further into his arms.

“I am going to kill you.” He steadily spoke, huffing as Sam went to walk past, but stopped himself when he saw the bundle of joy that was content in the brooding soldier’s arms. 

“What the hell! Did you and y/n have a baby or something without telling anyone?” Oh, how he wished those were the circumstances, and if the pair of you were to ever have a child together, then he would be impartial to the idea of doing so.

"This is not my child, it's y/n, thanks to Stark over there." He bounced you in his arms, he even felt a small dribble of spit seep through his shirt, but he didn't mind, not as his icy glare was intently prized upon the philanthropist.

"Hey, it was my daughter's fault, not mine!" Tony excused himself from the blame, holding his palm against his chest, as he received as such. Sam ogled at him for a second, before returning his attention back into Bucky, and little you.

He came forwards, reaching his hand towards you, keening as you went to grasp his. As you did so, a smile broke out upon the man’s face, until it contorted into a sharp frown, the noise of a yelp escaping from his lips. “That little bitch bit me.”

“Language.” Steve rounded the corner, his golden brows raising when he saw the infant contently resting in his best friend’s arms. “Did you and y/n have a baby without telling us?”

“That’s what I said!” Sam beckoned to the blonde, as he averted a strong gaze to you and your normal sized partner. "Until she bit me, it reminds me of that time that I tried to steal her fries."

"I don't see why your complaining." Bucky rolled his eyes, bracing you up straighter so that your forehead was pressed lightly against his shoulder. "I'm the one whose partner is an actual child."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam rolled his eyes in reference to how you were beforehand, before Steve cut in, directing his leading tone towards the men that were stood idly by.

"What actually happened?" Tony found his enquiry to be an opportunity to avert the fault from himself; how lucky indeed was it that Steve asked such a thing.

"Technically it's your fault capsicle. Morgan found your prototype of your unsuccessful time machine. As you can see, she turned into a baby, much like Lang. And if you want to push the blame off of yourself, blame these two for their asses disappearing."

"Hey, if I wanted to disappear, I wouldn't have made such a dramatic exit. I'd have just left for my sister's." Crossing his arms, Sam shook his head at the man that was not wearing his iron suit. He was unable to take any responsibility, unless it was for his genius brain wave of creating the true transportation for the time heist.

"Well I'm going to keep that noted for any future repercussions." Oh, how Wilson regretting mentioning that now.

"You left it out, within your daughter's reach." Bucky quirked his brow, as he prepared to head towards the storage of the private laboratory that was shared between the two science bros.

"Technically, that was the big green guy." Bucky vouched not to listen to Stark, instead, he continued to walk, leaving the three other men in his rear view, though for the most part, he could still hear them bickering.

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change."

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change." Tony mimicked Steve, thus only proving his point. He was certainly a man that enjoyed pressing people's buttons, it was a shining attribute of the once playboy, and god, did it annoy the hell out of Barnes.

As he entered the laboratory, he found the lab to be in a state of havoc. "Hey, it wasn't me this time." Scott laughed, as he used an extinguisher against the frayed machine, that was blubbering sparks from its ruined exterior.

"Smash!" A small green child, wearing glasses that were far too big for him, ran across the room, followed shortly by a child with long blonde hair wrapped up in a red cape, as though it were some kind of makeshift diaper.

"Explain." Bucky bluntly stated, clenching his jaw, as he cooed lightly at your cries that pierced the air. He bounced you in his arms, not quite certain of what he was supposed to do.

In his time, there wasn't exactly an education system to teach the men going to war how to parent, or even care for a child. A part of him panicked; it was you, he hated seeing you cry in general, but now he couldn't attempt to find out the cause for your falling tears.

"Aw is that y/n?" The man half dressed in his ant man suit asked, a bright smile on his face, as he reached out to hold you. To say Bucky was hesitant to pass you to him was an understatement. "I have a daughter, I've looked after a baby before."

"From jail?" The white wolf asked, as he heard a crash exhibit from the connecting room, obviously being the fault of the two most destructive avengers, or at least, their little versions. Being aged down was definitely certification for trouble, everyone knew that.

"Okay I wasn't in there for that long." Scott reassured him, he picked up a bottle of milk from the table, handing it to the metal armed man, whom had never fed a child before. He found himself, cautiously, keeping a watchful eye, passing you over to the former criminal, intently watching every movement that the man made.

Lange simply fed you. "Always thought you and y/n would have a cute baby, imagine its- oh yeah, well after all that stuff that happened with vision and SWORD, we thought it best to destroy any technology that was recovered from the old base. This part survived, and well, I went into its- okay, you don't want to hear the science, but basically Thor insisted he could break it with his hammer, albeit whilst I was inside of it, and it sent energy around the room that turned them into pubescent children."

"I can see that it did nothing to you. And I thought Morgan did it.”

"I was so relieved, lucky I- wait, was that an insult?" Bucky remained primitively silent, and that answered Scott's question. The hero sighed, as you finished nursing, and your arms reached for Bucky, to whom he passed you to. “And I lied...”

He literally blamed a five year old for the screw up of grown men. Tony was going to thrive off this information, whence he knew that his daughter was in fact not the culprit.

"What do we do now?" He was eager to find a cure for this betrothed science. Those whom were responsible for your decrease in age, well, one was running around the compound, and the other, well, he was even younger than Morgan currently.

"You could wait twenty years, I mean you two already have quite a big age gap, and please don't kill me. I'm not sure that Cap would approve, I am a vital source to the team!"

"I'm not going to kill you tic tac. Or at least not at least until we fix these three."

"Phew." Scott wiped his brow, blowing air from his mouth. "Wait thre- oh yeah, the little guy carrying the hammer that is bigger than himself, and the

"Okay, we need someone smarter." Bucky sighed heavily, as he hugged you in thought. "You tried hitting it again with the hammer?"

"Oh my god, I could be worthy!" Gasped Scott, running off to the next room, only to come back limping, a pained expression on his face. "Little Asguardian bastard hit me!"

Bucky contained his smirk, and instead passed you to Lang, venturing into the other part of the lab, finding that Bruce was asleep, a blob of snot hanging from his nose, he could see the hammer in the middle of the room, almost as though it were waiting for him to attempt grabbing the handle, and Thor was-

The minuscule god jumped from one of the shelves, wrapping his arms around the front of Bucky’s neck, as he put all his weight on the super soldier’s back. In all practicality, Thor was strangling him, and Bucky tapped his arm, trying to convince him to let go.

“I know who Noobmaster69 is.” Thor quirked his head, lessening his hold, as he promptly awaited his now older friend to continue. “It’s, its- his name is Wade Wilson.”

“Wilson!” No, gosh no. Bucky stood completely, making sure to keep Thor in the vicinity, he needed him to be so so that he could reverse the affects on the son of Odin.

“Not Sam. Wade.” He had never met the man before, but god did he seem like a dick. When the pair of you were getting a taxi, the driver Dopinder just could not shut up about his friend, who liked to wear red, and had a kink for unicorns.

Wade certainly sounded like a weird one, but right now, his pass time was getting Thor to pick up that hammer. “Where can I find this Wade?” It practically left his mouth as a hiss, if the imagery and proven death supposed otherwise, he’d possibly think it was Loki instead.

“I will tell you, if you pick up that hammer, and hit it against that old machine. Got it buddy?”

“It’s name is Stormbreaker!” Bellowed the norseman, who tried to slide off his back, but Bucky kept a hold of his legs, refraining him from going anywhere. “Get peter to do it, I don’t want to play that game anymore!”

“Uuh, hi Mr Barnes...” That voice, oh he knew it, and the majority of the time it irritated him, he was Tony's little pet. “And, baby avengers?”

“Don’t ask kid.” Peter nodded, as he went to reach for a spanner. “Can you pick the hammer up, are you worthy?”

“Am I worthy?” He wondered aloud, his eyes fixated on the hammer, as he stepped towards it, holding his hand out, and clasping his palm around the handle, it feeling weightless in his grip, as he picked it up without effort. “Oh my god (it’s Robert Downey Junior)!”

“Great, now take it out there, I’ll deal with these two. And don’t do anything yet.” He was certainly feeling like a sergeant, throwing all the orders to the others, Peter complied, carrying the hammer as though it were an empty duffel.

“Can I try?” Instantly, after Peter passing it to him, Scott had such hope, until the force of gravity hit, and it fell on his foot, causing a light scream to ripple through his throat. “Get it off, get it off!”

Peter did so, as Bucky kept Thor on his shoulders, and grabbed a hold of Bruce’s chubby little ankle, dragging him into the other room. “Shit he’s heavy.” He saw that you were sat in the grand spinny chair, making Bucky relived that you weren’t in Lang’s arms as he attempted to have a moment of worthiness.

“What’d you do, go all Winter soldier on his ass and knock him out?!” Half screamed the prodigy of Hank Pym.

“Of course not, I think Thor did it.”

“Oh yeah, blame the kid because I did the same.”

“Put your suit from Stark on kid, unless you want to become a fetus.” Bucky ignored Scott for the moment,

“I got Hope to send her outfit, it will stretch to accommodate you, but I also think it would hug your shape nicely.”

“That was fast.” Muttered Peter, and Bucky shook his head, eyeing the outfit with weird eyes.

“I’m crazy, but not crazy enough to wear that.” Sighing, he grasped it in his hands, walking to the other room to squeeze into it. He noticed you watching, and thus he turned the chair around so that you couldn’t see anything. Little did he realise until he came out, that you had spun it around again, and was giggling. “Don’t laugh at me, or you won’t be allowed to see it when you’re returned to normal.”

A pout settled on your small lips, and it appeared as though you were getting ready to cry again, but before you could do so, a distraction intervened. An uninvited, and confusing one.

“Stop. Can I just say, that is some cruel declaration for the both of you, you’re my fave ship, after me and Hugh Jackman of course, but he doesn’t even know that this version of me exists.” A newfound imposter called out, his arms raised in the air. Leather gloves crinkled as he twitched his fingers, his white eyes freaking Scott the fuck out. “May I join you on this journey? I read about you guys in comics. And can I just say, I want to see these hunks and that hottie all grown up.”

“You want to see me go Winter Soldier on someone Lang?” Bucky gritted his teeth, prepared to murder this man for ever posing such words about you into the open air. Him speaking obviously drew some attention to him though, but it was not his rage that was mentioned, instead, it was his attire- or well, Hope’s.

“Nice suit Buck Buck. Can you do a twirl for me, I wanna see if it competes with America’s ass. Damn, does that man have some buns on him.”

“I know right!” Scott eagerly agreed, earning a smack in the nuts, to which had made him close to crumbling.“You had to use the metal hand, didn’t you.” Whimpered the Ant to the false Wasp, clamping his hands over his goods as he half hunched over. “I thought you often forgot to use it coz your right handed.”

“You’re on my left.” Gross, he sounded like Sam.

“Who the hell are you?” Thor spoke, and it felt familiar on his tongue. It was as though he had asked an enemy the same thing before...

“I, am Noobmaster69.”

“Hi, I’m Peter. Oh, we’re using our made up names, I thought Sam said it was that guy from that tech place.” Peter scratched his head through the mask, providing a small verbal distraction, as Thor willingly set himself free, launching at the intruder, whilst snatching the hammer from a suited up Peter.

“Aaasrrrghh.” He screamed like a true deity of the vikings.

“Thor, no!” Lang screamed, knowing that he’d have to come up with another excuse. The cameras had been fused whence Thor had first struck the hammer in the room, and it abused the guy in the red suit as he went for his legs, attacking the friend of Dopinder.

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

[wtf-yoongi]

Plain sight. / KTH

pairing | taehyung x reader

summary | taehyung just wants to be loved (and love is right under his nose)

genre/warnings | fluff + a lil bit of angst?

words | 1,999

note | requested by the lovely 💜💜💜 anon (full request at the end!) sorry for taking the longest time. i’m such a lazy writer

Taehyung is sulking.

The man is sitting on the farthest seat of the comfy sofa, hand clutching his phone tightly as if it could grow wings and fly away at any second. The TV isn’t on, but he’s looking at the screen intently, brows just slightly furrowed in deep thought.

What he is thinking about, though… That’s still a mystery to you.

You have tried to guess whatever is bothering him for — at the very least — half an hour now, but got to no conclusion. Taehyung just sits there, legs crossed and body barely moving except for the rise and fall of his chest, not bothered by your stares or Yeontan’s little wiggles.

How could he after the invitation he got through the mail this morning?

A freaking wedding invitation. His youngest cousin is getting married. The youngest. Why does it have to be the youngest?

Taehyung has reminded himself time and time again that his moment would come. The thing that he feels like is missing so badly in his life would eventually come. There’s no need to rush, no need to worry or stress over this.

Until that pretty envelope came in. Delicate piece of expensive paper, fancy handwriting and all. He is sure someone sprayed perfume on it because the thing even smells good.

Honestly — why does it have to be the youngest one?

What bothers him the most, though, is that he is supposed to be happy for him — and Taehyung, don’t get him wrong, is. His cousin has found someone with whom he wishes to share his life with, who will be there no matter what, will support his decisions and bring his feet down to earth when needed. Someone who will make him eat his veggies and all.

But damn. Taehyung wants that too. He wants to be Loved.

Yes, Loved, with capital L. Not the sort of love you get from you mom — although that is great as well —, but the Love you see in cheesy movies, the Love people talk about in songs, the Love that makes you do irrational things. Taehyung wants all of that. He wants to do irrational things too.

Is that too much to ask?

Too bad you have no idea of what’s going on inside his head. You would be the first to tell him that no, it isn’t too much to ask. Taehyung just needs to realize what’s right in front of him. Right under his nose.

It’s right here, right now. All the capital-L-love he wants. All the love he will ever need. All the love you think is silly and unrequited. Everything you feel the urge to hide as best as you can. The reason why it’s a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon and you’re happy to be in Taehyung’s apartment instead of enjoying it outside — just because his mom asked you to make sure he doesn’t sleep until three in the afternoon while she’s on vacation with his father.

You could’ve accepted your friend’s invitation to take a walk after lunch. You could’ve just called Taehyung to make sure he was awake and had something to eat and be okay with it. Except you couldn’t — you had to come by, you had to stop at the convenience store to get something he likes, you had to use your spare key to open the door because Taehyung was, in fact, still sleeping.

What is there to hide? It’s all in plain sight. Taehyung is the only one who can’t see it.

He had gone back to bed after breakfast — he said it emotionlessly right after you asked him if he had eaten anything today. When you arrived, Taehyung already looked a bit displeased, replacing the usual smile and warm hug he welcomes you with for a frown and a cold stare. He didn’t crack even when he saw the treats you had bought, saying thanks in a low voice. At least you can say it isn’t your fault — or at least you can guess so. 

To pass the time, you try to keep your hands busy in the kitchen, cleaning up counters and emptying the dishwasher even though no one asked you to do so. Deep down, you know you don’t want to go so soon — even if your friend isn’t the greatest of hosts right now, being here is still somewhat calming. The silence coming from Tae is definitely better than the silence coming from the walls of your apartment.

But enough is enough. You need to know what’s going on inside his head — and not just because you’re curious. Most of all, you want to help. What if it’s something serious? What if it’s something to do with work? You may not be able to do much, but getting it out would surely help, right?

You call his name, raising your voice a little for him to hear you from the living room, but he doesn’t even move a finger. Taehyung seems to be inside of a bubble, protected by a layer of annoyance that not many people would dare to pop. A long exhale comes out of your lips — it may hurt, but you need to know.

As you walk towards his sitting figure, Yeontan — definitely not oblivious to the fact something’s not right — follows you with pleading eyes. He asks you to raise his little body to the couch when you sit and your hands accommodate him between yours and Taehyung’s legs.

Even then, the man doesn’t seem to notice you’re so close. You call his name again. “Taehyung… Come on, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

That’s when he snaps out of it. 

“I’m okay,” he says calmly and nods, but his eyes don’t connect with yours like they usually do and you know he’s lying to protect himself. You don’t like it — he shouldn’t feel the need to do that with you. “I’m just thinking.”

“Okay, then,” you concede, relaxing your stance. Yeontan promptly jumps on you belly. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

It takes Taehyung a few moments to collect his thoughts and you wonder if he’s considering telling you the whole story of just half of it. You try not to think about the worst, about the things that would break your heart, but your mind immediately moves in that direction.

All of a sudden, Tae is turning his body to yours, crossed legs now facing you. He doesn’t speak fast, but you notice — gladly — it is unfiltered. It just comes out of his mouth in long phrases, calm and somewhat frustrated, as if he’s on the brink of giving up.

“Have you ever watched one of those romantic movies that are so gross… The sort of thing you watch and think oh, god, this is disgusting or this thing would never happen in real life or something like that?”

Taehyung just gives you enough time to nod.

“Is it so crazy that my brain has been programmed by these movies and tv shows that are oh-so-delusional and now I’m delusional too? Like, I swear to God, I want to take someone for a walk in the park with Yeontan and have ice cream and sit on a bench and giggle quietly while trying to hide my face from people passing by because I’m way too shy about it.”

And I hate the idea that there’s a possibility that I’ll never be able to do it and it’s completely out of my control because it may happen that destiny doesn’t think I deserve to love someone so much, so much it hurts me physically… But, you know, not in the unhealthy way. I mean in the I’m gonna watch her become one of the greatest people in this world and I’m going to be there when she needs me and I’ll be cheering her on way, you know? Please, don’t get me wrong. I’m not the controlling type and I never want to be that, no.”

And just this morning I got a wedding invitation that made me rethink all of those things and, I don’t know, don’t you think by now I should’ve at the very least fallen in love with someone? And I don’t even mean successfully — I mean at all. All my friends have had somewhat serious relationships and now even my youngest cousin is getting married. I’m happy for him, I am, but I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of it never happening to me. Does that make any sense?”

It takes a while for your brain to process all of that and, most importantly, to separate your role as a friend and your want for something more. You take a deep breath before finally looking up to him, heart breaking as you rational side takes over. “Okay. It makes sense, I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Don’t you think it’s weird my twenties are more than halfway gone and I’ve never fallen in love with anyone?”

Your heart breaks a little further with the way there’s so much hope in his eyes. Honestly, not even in your worst nightmares you’d have to go through this sort of conversation with Taehyung — and certainly not while struggling to keep a straight face. You feel tired already from trying so hard, as if your energy has been drained in a second.

Surprisingly, your voice comes out somewhat stable.

“But that’s the thing, Tae. You can’t force this, it happens. And just because it hasn’t happened up until now, it doesn’t mean that it will never,” you add, diverting your gaze to the small dog on your lap. Such a great excuse not to look into Taehyung’s eyes — you wonder if he’ll notice anything when you say your next words. “Also, falling in love isn’t always great. You said you wanted it even if it was unsuccessful, but it hurts, you know?”

“So you have fallen in love?”

“I am in love right now.” You wish you hadn’t answered so promptly. You can’t believe you’re confessing or the words that come out of your mouth next. “And he doesn’t know it and I can’t build enough courage to tell him because I don’t want to lose him over some stupid thing like unrequited love. I just want him in my life, even if it’s not like that… What I’m trying to say is that the movies make it look simple and easy, but it isn’t. Most of the time people just get hurt.”

You’re not looking, but you know from the way Taehyung moves his hands that his eyes aren’t so hopeful anymore. Inside, you’re not just broken from having to keep a mask on while saying all of that, but also for being the one to bring him down so harshly. You wonder if you should’ve toned it down a little, but it’s too late now.

“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” Taehyung says, slowly and carefully, after a few moments. “What I mean by unsuccessful is not spending the rest of your life with this person. I still want to take them for a walk and have ice cream, at least.”

A laugh escapes your lips — desperate, but thankful for the kindness in his heart. “Fair enough. You want to fall in love and you want them to fall in love too. Even if it’s not forever.”

“Exactly. That’s what I want.”

“Okay. Just…” Your voice falters. There’s a hand clenching your heart tightly as you finish your sentence. “Don’t think about it too much, it will happen when the time is right.”

“Ah, I wonder if I’ll be able to notice it, you know? When I finally fall in love with someone… When they fall in love with me.”

It takes all of you for your last words to come out in a single breath.

“It’s hard to see something when you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

Read more ›› masterlist

request | i needed to share my idea because its making me melt. In the most recent in the soop ep, tae and jk had a heart to heart and tae talked about how he wants to be loved and he needs to know that someone loves him. And i just imagined like a comfort scenario where someone just takes care of him when he’s feeling lonely and unloved. My angsty/fluffy feels. So yeah, if you ever want to write something like this... ill cry (out of joy?) 💜💜💜

note 2 | you can tell by “the most recent in the soop ep” how freaking long it took me to write this. honestly, i struggled. this has been rewritten like four times???? and i’m still not quite sure i like it aaaaah

[hercleverboy]

for better or worse

spencer reid x reader 

summary ↠ spencer and the reader deal with the repercussions of infertility.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ infertility, endometriosis, swearing, self-depreciating thoughts. this story includes mentions of infertility as a result of endometriosis. Please do not read this if that is triggering or upsetting

word count ↠ 3.3k

“If the hurt comes, so will the happiness.” — Rupi Kaur

Y/N had never thought much about having kids. She figured that if she met the right man and settled down with him, she’d love to have a family of her own. Though, if that didn’t happen, she wouldn’t feel incomplete if she never had children. She didn’t feel they were a necessity, like her life would be unsuccessful without them. Besides, she liked that she would always have the option. She didn’t have to have kids, but the option was there for her to choose the day she decided to wanted to.

So when she met Spencer, and fell in love with his beautiful brain and big heart, she knew that if she was going to have children with anyone, it would be him. She wanted to give him the family he so obviously desired. They discussed it, and Spencer admitted he was more than ready to be a dad, and Y/N told him she knew he’d be a phenomenal one, despite his fears. They agreed they’d start trying once their wedding was over, and they could be the family they’d always dreamed of.

At first it was exciting. Sex was fun and enjoyable as the couple anticipated creating a new life, a child for them to raise and protect.

 However, after 6 months of trying with no positive results, sex had become more of a chore. It was no longer about pleasure or done with excitement, but it was tired and half-assed, with only the goal of getting pregnant in sight. Y/N was worried something was wrong but she knew that unlike in the movies, getting pregnant does take time with some couples. She had faith they would get their baby soon.

Once they hit the one year mark, Y/N was terrified. It was odd, she thought. She always thought she’d been content, with or without kids. But when she looked at her husband, she was terrified she wouldn’t be able to give him the family he deserved, the children she wanted to raise with him by her side. She insisted they get fertility tests, and have doctors check them out to ensure that nothing was wrong with either or them. Spencer had rambled some statistics and facts, trying to explain that sometimes these things just take time, but once he saw the fearful tears in his wife’s eyes, he agreed and made them an appointment.

Y/N was silent and Spencer worried. She didn’t speak during the car ride to the doctors. Nor did she speak as they sat in the waiting room of the doctors, waiting for their results. Her leg bounced nervously, and he placed his hand on her thigh in an attempt to calm her down. Her leg stopped and she looked up at him, that same fear in her eyes. 

 “It’ll be okay, baby.” He promised. “Whatever happens, we will be okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she nodded. 

It was then that a nurse came toward them. “Dr and Mrs Reid?” She asked, and they nodded. “Come with me.” Spencer found himself profiling the nurse, looking for any indication as to what the news they were about to receive was, but he found none. Y/N gripped Spencer’s hand tightly as they stood and followed the nurse.

Y/N had always been one of those people, where if someone told her she couldn’t have something, she’d only want it 10 times more. 

And there’s a harsh difference between choosing not to have something and being told you can’t ever have it at all. 

Severe Endometriosis.

She had Severe Endometriosis. She knew what it meant. She’d always experienced painful periods, but she’d always been told by her mother and other female figures in her life that it was normal, that she was making a big deal over nothing. Never had she considered it was something so serious. 

She stared at the wall in a state of shock, her hand dropping from Spencer’s limply. 

The doctor’s face showed sympathy. “It’s rare we get cases of endometriosis where the patient doesn’t exhibit symptoms until stage four.” 

Spencer couldn’t seem to find his words. Finally, he managed to string together a coherent sentence. “What does this mean for us?” He managed to get out. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know exactly what it meant. He had read up on the topic before, and was disgruntled by the lack of research into what caused it. He thought maybe the doctor would tell him something he didn’t already know. 

“Whilst there are treatments, It is unlikely you will ever be able to conceive, and if you do, the chances of Mrs Reid carrying that baby to full term without miscarriage or other serious complications are slim.” 

The tears slipped from Y/N’s eyes then.

He wasn’t the problem. According to the doctor, Spencer was ‘incredibly fertile’. 

He wasn’t the problem. 

She was. 

“I’m incredibly sorry I don’t have better news for you. Would you like to discuss possible treatments? I have some leaflets-” the doctor continued but Y/N wasn’t listening. Instead she stared blankly at the wall, tears falling silently from her eyes as the angry and hateful thoughts consumed her. 

“I’ll give you two a minute.” With a sad smile on her lips, the doctor left the room, the door closing quietly behind her. 

After minutes of silence, Spencer was the first to speak. “Y/N, Sweetheart.” He tried, a gentle attempt to get her attention. 

No response.

 “Y/N-” He tried again, but she interrupted him with a choked sob and a loud sniffle. 

“Take me home, Spence. Please.” He nearly sobbed at her pleading, heartbroken tone. 

“Okay. Okay, baby.” He moved to kiss her forehead again but she pulled away from him, standing up and swiftly leaving the room. 

The same deathly silence filled the room and Spencer could practically hear his heart breaking. 

On the car ride home, Y/N stared out the window whilst Spencer gave her longing glances. His wife, the love of his life. 

He felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe. 

What was he supposed to say? 

How could he make this better? 

He couldn’t, he knew. He also knew the horrid, self-depreciative thoughts were filling Y/N’s head and he wished he could stop them but he just didn’t know how. 

So instead of words, he reached across the centre console, taking her hand in his. He was pleased when she didn’t pull away. He brought her hand up, pressing a kiss to their wedding ring that sat on her finger. It served as a silent reminder of the vows they made. 

For better or worse. 

Their house felt empty. 

It was much too big for the two of them. They’d moved in 2 weeks after their wedding, promising to fill the empty rooms with children. 

So much for that, Y/N couldn’t help but think. 

Spencer took Y/N’s coat, and watched as she numbly slid off her shoes. His heart ached at the sight of her, so broken, so angry at herself. He spoke quietly. 

“Let me make you some tea, sweetheart.” 

Y/N just wanted to scream, “Tea isn’t going to fix this!” 

But she knew her husband, she knew he was wracking his big genius brain for any idea on how to help her and coming up empty. and besides, shouting wouldn’t fix anything. She couldn’t push him away when they needed one another most. 

She just nodded gratefully and turned toward the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Spencer came over, setting the tea down on the coffee table in front of them before sitting down next to her. 

He reached out to her, but stopped before he touched her.

Did she want him to hold her? Could that possibly make this any better?

He was almost afraid to touch her, as though she’d break like porcelain beneath his trembling hands. 

After minutes of an uncomfortable silence, Spencer cleared his throat and spoke gently. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” He started. Y/N looked at him confused, so he elaborated. “I know you think this is somehow your fault, like you had any control over this, but I promise you it isn’t.” 

“Isn’t it?” She asked quietly, but her tone was cold. She didn’t want to sound harsh, but she was so angry, at herself, at the universe. “What did I do to deserve this, huh?” She asked, tears now cascading down her cheeks. 

“You did nothing to deserve this, Y/N- “ She cut him off again. 

“God I wanted to give you a family so badly, Spencer. But no, I can’t do the one thing a woman is supposed to be able to do!” She cried, her voice rising as she stood from the couch. It was clear that the anger wasn’t at all directed at Spencer, only at herself. 

and it was breaking spencer’s heart. 

“Please don’t say that, Y/N.” He begged. 

“It’s true! If I can’t give you a baby I’m useless to you!”

“Stop it!” Spencer was shouting now too, standing up as well. “You’re not useless, Y/N!” 

She scoffed through her tears. “You heard what the doctor said, Spence! I’m the problem! Not you, me! You’re gonna leave me so you can find someone who can give you what you want-” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. The look of hurt on Spencer’s face is something she had never seen before. Her insecurities were rearing their ugly heads and she couldn’t stop from confessing them. 

“Is that what you think?” He asked. He wasn’t angry, but he was so very hurt, and even mad at himself for ever letting her insecurities get so bad that she’d even think he’d consider that.  “That I’d leave you for someone else?”

Y/N nodded, ashamed. “I understand if you want to. You’ve always wanted your own kids Spencer, god knows what an amazing father you’d be.” She gave a dry, humourless chuckle. “I can’t give you that. but someone else can and-” She sobbed. “If it means you’d be happy, that you could have a family-” She broke down, harsh sobs wracking through her chest. Spencer was quick to bring her into his arms, and his own sobs hit him just as hard. 

After calming down a little he pulled back, using one hand to take her chin and make her face him. “Look at me baby.” He pleaded, and she did. “I never want to hear you say that shit again, okay?” His voice was stern, not angry. “I love you. I married you, for god’s sake.” He chuckled. “Us not being able to make a baby changes none of that. We don’t need a baby to be a family, Y/N. We’re already a family, me and you, and I am perfectly content I promise you. Just please-” His tone was begging. “Please don’t ever think I’m going anywhere, that I’d leave you like that. I love you, so much. and when we got married I promised you forever. I intend to keep that promise.” She nodded at his words, burying her head in his chest as he sighed, kissing her forehead gently. 

“I wanted to give you a baby.” She mumbled, and it shattered Spencer’s heart. Sure, he’d always pictured having children of his own, but as far as he was concerned, as long as he had Y/N, his life would be perfect. 

For her, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“I know you did, sweetheart. but just because we can’t make a baby doesn’t mean we can’t have one. There are hundreds of children out there in the adoption system waiting for a family, waiting for a home that we could provide them with.” He reminded her gently, and she sniffed. She hadn’t really considered adopting, but now she could understand why it would be a good idea. “When you’re ready to look at other options, we’ll figure it out together, okay?” 

“Yeah, Okay. Thank you Spence. I love you.” 

It was a rough few months that followed. As a couple, they were stronger than they’d ever been, but Y/N still sometimes struggled with the burden that weighed her down. Whenever she saw Spencer entertaining JJ’s kids at events the team invited them to, she had to excuse herself to the bathroom for a minute to compose herself. It took a few months to wrap her head around the idea that even if their children weren’t theirs biologically, they’d be no different than if they were, still loved and cared for the same. 

In those months they also bought a dog. Well, Spencer bought one, a female golden retriever puppy that he brought home unannounced one day. He was afraid Y/N wouldn’t want one, but he figured that one way to help ease her upset would be to try and make their big home feel more lively- his solution was a puppy. 

Thankfully, Y/N fell in love with the puppy, who they later named Millie, and had nearly cried when Spencer explained why he bought the dog. 

“ I just wanted our house to feel a bit more like a home. and I thought she’d be a great addition to our little family.” 

It took 2 more months before Y/N decided she was ready. 

Y/N approached her husband as he sat reading on the sofa, Millie curled up next to him. “Hey baby. You got a minute?”

His brows creased in confusion, but he complied, marking his page and setting his book down. “Sure thing. What’s up?” 

She took a seat the other side of Millie, reaching out to stroke her soft fur. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve had enough time to deal with and process everything that happened. I think I’d like us to look for some adoption agencies? I’d really love to give a home to a child who needs one.” She smiled and the grin on Spencer’s face was ecstatic as he jumped from the couch, scooping Y/N up in his arms and lifting her from the ground, the commotion causing Millie to bark. 

“Yes! Yes we can do that. I’d like nothing more.” He smiled and then pressed his lips to hers. 

They sat down together and filled out an application for a great looking adoption agency, and went through the numerous stages, including people coming to view their home to ensure it is a stable environment to raise a child in. Of course they were given the all clear, with Spencer’s more than stable income and Y/N only working part time, they were one step closer. 

One day they received a call from the agency saying they had a young pregnant lady who was around six months along but had decided she didn’t want to keep her child, instead, as soon as it was born, she wanted to give the baby to a family who couldn’t have their own. 

Y/N and Spencer met with the girl, Alicia, multiple times before Alicia decided she was more than happy for the baby to be adopted by the Reid family. 

Y/N and Spencer were ecstatic, spending all their free time shopping for baby items and decorating one of the upstairs bedrooms with little pink items, once they’d found out the baby was a girl. To say Y/N and Spencer were excited would be an understatement, and they were now just playing the waiting game, as Alicia was due to give birth any day.

Spencer was in the shower whilst Y/N worked on cooking dinner. She heard her phone ringing in the living room, and quickly washed her hands before walking to grab it, Millie trailing behind her. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, is this Mrs Y/N Reid?” 

“This is she.” 

“Brilliant. I’m delighted to tell you that Alicia has gone into labour, so you’re gonna want to head over to the hospital now.” 

Y/N’s mouth went dry and happy tears sprang to her eyes.

“Mrs Reid?”

”Yes! Sorry! We’ll be right there, Thankyou!” She hung up the phone, standing in the same place as shock filled her. They were getting their baby. 

“Who was that?” Spencer walked down the stairs, hair still damp from his shower, dressed in a large shirt and jogging bottoms. 

“It was the hospital. Alicias in labour.” The words didn’t feel real as they left her lips. “We’re getting our baby.” 

Spencer’s mouth dropped open in momentary shock, before that beautiful grin broke out on his features. He pulled Y/N into him, laughing happily, happy tears welling in his eyes. “We’re getting our baby.” He repeated back to her in shock. 

They couple burst through the doors to the maternity ward, walking towards the front desk with a skip in their step.

“Hi! We’re having a baby!” Y/N spoke excitedly. 

The lady at the desk looked at Y/N and her obviously not pregnant belly. “That normally takes around nine months, honey.” 

“Right, yes uh- we’re adopting a baby who’s being born right now.” Y/N corrected herself, her hand reaching down to grab Spencer’s and squeeze it tightly. 

“Aw well, congratulations you two! Can I take the patient’s name?” 

“Alicia Ray.” Spencer spoke, the excitement evident in his voice too. 

“Alright, you’re gonna want to head down the hall and then take a right, she’s in room 206. You’ll have to wait outside but a doctor will greet you once your baby has been born, alright?” 

The pair nodded excitedly, and Spencer noted how she’d said “Your baby”, before turning quickly and speeding down the hall, Spencer nearly tripping in the process. 

12 hours later Y/N was at home holding a small pink bundle in her arms. She’d come into the world at 2:56 am, a healthy 7 pounds and 6 ounces, and they’d settled on naming her Alexandra Diana Reid, Alex for short. 

Y/N sat on the chair in the corner of the nursery, gazing down at her daughter, the child she would love as though she’d carried her for 9 months. Y/N could see now that it didn’t matter, Alex was their daughter in every way that mattered. Millie sauntered in, curling up by Y/N’s feet.  

Spencer entered the nursery, a smile on his lips as he walked over to his wife, watching as she slowly rocked their daughter, who slept peacefully for the moment. 

“Ah, there are my two favourite girls.” He joked, and a soft whimper came from  Millie. “Don’t worry, you’re my favourite too, Mills.” He laughed softly as he reached down to ruffle the dogs fur before perching on the arm rest of the chair, winding his arm around Y/N’s shoulders as he looked down at his daughter. 

“She’s perfect.” He croaked out, tears of pride filling his eyes. He reached down a finger, nudging her tiny hand with it, and nearly combusting with happiness when she wrapped her tiny fingers around his large one. 

Y/N let out a little scoff. “Look at that, she’s already a daddy’s girl. She’s barely a day old and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger.” 

Spencer chuckled softly. “She does. I’d do anything for her. I’d do anything for our family, you know that right?” He felt silly asking, but he needed to know she understood. That he would drop anything and everything for his beautiful little family. He’d quit the BAU tomorrow to protect them, they were his only priority. 

“I know, Spence. We’re so grateful.” She assured him, looking up at him with love-filled eyes. He leaned down gently, kissing her, the warmth and contentedness filling him. 

For better or worse

for as long as they both shall live. 

[writingtoforgetreality]

You’re So Golden - The Devil’s Daughter Chapter Eight (Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter!Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist], [The Devil’s Daughter-Masterlist]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Dan had a surprise for you & you were more than thankful for it. But all good things came to an end. Though, you did not think it would be so soon. The inevitable was happening & this time, you had to deal with it all alone.

Words: 1,732

Warnings: language, incident, blood, Amenadiel shows up!, (Y/A) = your age

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The following days, you noticed Dan distancing himself from you. You did not accompany him to the precinct anymore. Pretty much all you did was sitting in Trixie’s room, contemplating what you did wrong to make Dan act that way. What you did not know, though, was that he was not even realizing that he did not pay that much attention to you anymore. His work was taking all his focus away from you. Finding jobs was a pain in the ass, by the way. It was impossible. They all wanted to know where you were coming from, what you were good at & so on. What were you good at? In heaven, there was not anything you could do. God made sure of that. Oh, you were good at playing board games but apparently that was not what people were looking for on Earth nowadays.

Dan had given you one of his old phones & his old laptop so you could look for jobs & write job applications while he was at work. These devices confused you at first, but soon you got the hang of it & you wondered why you had never had something similar in heaven. Your lonely days would have been filled with more interesting hours.

A ringing sound interrupted your research on your laptop. Looking around, you found your phone being the source of the noise. Grabbing it, you saw Dan’s name on screen. Huh...He had never called you when he was at work. Swiping your finger over the display, you greeted him right after raising the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Dan.”

“(Y/N)! Have you been successful with your job searching yet?”

“Nope.” sighing frustratingly. “Most of them say I’m too inexperienced.” you breathed out. It was not necessarily fair. After all, you did have experience in other stuff. Stuff people could only dream about. Not that you were planning on telling anyone, but still.

“Perfect.” Dan’s excitement could be heard through the phone. Cool, he was happy that you were unsuccessful. Just peachy.

“Rude.” if he were here with you right now, your look would kill him.

“No, no, wait. I didn’t mean it like that.” he stammered. “I asked the Lieutenant & he said if you’re interested you could be my personal assistant.” Dan finished & waited for your respone.

“You need a personal assistant?” a short laugh escaped you. He joined you in briefly before answering.

“I don’t but you need the money.” Dan reasoned. Well, you could not argue with him, he had a point.

“Fair enough.”

“We’ll talk later today when I come home, alright?” you nodded but he obviously could not see it. Bidding your goodbyes, you ended the phone call. Maybe Dan was not distant. Maybe he was just trying to get you a job.

It was still early afternoon so you had some time to kill. Residing in a kid’s bedroom when you, yourself, were (Y/A) years old was not necessarily convenient. Browsing the entire house would be rude, right? Well, you could take a shower. If you were to start your new job tomorrow, at least that was what you hoped, you could make sure your appearance was on point.

Walking into the bathroom, you locked the door after you. Maybe you were growing paranoid, you were alone after all. Better safe than sorry, though. After ridding yourself of your clothes, you could feel a bad migraine coming. Oh no. No, no, no. Shit, you had not thought of this. There was a difference between migraines & simple headaches. Headaches, you could deal with. Migraines, on the other hand…well, you could not. Not alone at least. The pain felt similar to someone wanting to crush in your skull. The worst part of it was that you knew this pain was nothing compared to what you were about to eperience. Your hands held your head tightly, trying to avoid the inevitable. The bathroom was big enough, you would not damage anything. Good, so Dan would most likely not find out. You wanted to keep it that way.

A loud scream echoed through the room & you were surprised that your voice could reach this volume. Hopefully, it was not that loud to grab the neighbors’ attention. A look in the mirror gave away what you were expecting. Golden wings were surrounding you. All the years in heaven had taught you to hate your wings. Yours were different. Not black like the ones from the other angels. And definitely not soft. No, yours were sharp. So sharp, they cut open your back each time you were showing them. Hence why you had tried controlling to keep them hidden. Sometimes, little things triggered you & you had to let them show, as much as you hated it. You could feel liquid running down your back & the cuts that the wings caused burned a lot. Tears were streaming down your face. It had not happened in so long, you were confused why it was happening now. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes & focused solely on your wings. Needing to retract your wings, you braced yourself for another wave of pain. This time, you only let out a wince. Shit, usually Michael, sometimes even Gabriel, helped cleaning & bandaging your wounds. But they were not here. And you had never done it yourself. Trying to get a look at your back through the mirror, you were shocked to say the least. It looked bad. Really bad. The cuts seemed deeper than usual. You hated looking at them. You hated the old, faded scars adorning your back even more, though.

Still, you decided to step into the shower. The warm water reached your wounds & you winced at the burning sensation. You had to think of a way to treat the cuts somehow. If you did not, Dan might find out & then it would lead to questions you were not ready to answer. Could not answer, actually. Because he would send you to an institution for lunatics. It was times like this when you wished Michael was here. Just for a while, so he could help you out.

When you finished your shower, you did not wrap a towel around your body. You would not risk getting blood on one of Dan’s towels. Rummaging through the cabinets, you were more than happy when you found what looked like a first aid kit. Trying to mimic what Mike had done many times, you began treating your wounds accordingly. It was a pain in the ass, though. Your arms were not long enough to reach every single cut but you did your best. It took you almost an hour & a lot of frustration but your back was cleaned & bandaged. You wondered if Michael would be proud of your work…

Chloe had brought you some of her old clothes over so you did not have to spend money on new ones. Pulling on something comfortable that you had brought with you in the bathroom, you looked yourself over once again. The shower managed to calm you down a bit & you were surprised when you found your eyes neither red nor puffy.

After spending way too much time in the bathroom, you were shocked when you still had some time left before Dan would be home. Grabbing your laptop, you sat down on the couch in the living room, trying so your back would not touch anything. It still hurt a lot. It usually did even days after such an incident. So once again, you had to play pretend in front of Dan. You were getting quite good at that, if you were honest. Before Dan came home, you could browse the internet for a while. What else would you be doing?

Your eyes shot towards the front door when you heard keys unlocking it. Sweet, Dan was home. Now you could talk about your job, if you could call it that.

“(Y/N)? I’m home.”

“Hi Dan.” smiling sweetly at him from where you were sitting.

“Exciting day?” he asked after pulling off his jacket & shoes. You gulped at that.

“Same old.” chuckling to hide how uncomfortable you were. “You?” oh, nice. You pulled a uno reverse card. Mentally, you were patting your own shoulder for coming up with that. It was better to shift the attention to Dan.

“Well, I got you a job which is pretty damn cool of me, might I add.” the both of you laughed at that. That was feeding his ego for sure. “But besides that, it was rather quiet at the precinct.” you nodded at him.

“Oh & Amenadiel is coming over in a bit. He needs help with his baby.” Dan walked into the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for a fast meal he could cook for you & his friend who would pay him a visit.

“Amenadiel? What’s up with the names around here?” you asked, laughing at how weird people from LA were. You joined Dan in the kitchen & asked him if he needed any help. He gave you a task & immediately, you got to work.

Working on a meal together was faster than you thought & after you set the table, there was a knock on the door.

“I got it.” yelling at Dan who was changing in his room because he did not want to stay in his work clothes any longer. Opening the door, your eyes firstly fell to a baby sitting in a man’s arm. Then your eyes wandered up & you gave the stranger a welcoming smile. This had to be Amenadiel.

“Hi! Come in, Dan should be ready in a few.” you motioned for him to step inside but your smile slowly faltered when you noticed the look on his face. You could not quite pinpoint it but it sure left you uneasy.

“Hello.” his monotone voice was heard after a few moments of silence.

“Right, um, I guess you know your way inside.” you coughed & walked away quickly, trying to avoid more awkward conversations with this man. There was something about him…He stood in the doorway for a few seconds & watched you walk away. You were different. He did not know how but you were. And you were in Dan’s house. What were you doing here?

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/05/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @fandomqueen2003, @natashaashleymarvelromanoff, @severewobblerlightdragon, @tenderlyunlikelyexpert, @zoseph, @suffering-canucks-fan, @dad-ee-drea, @xbarrjallenx, @marvelofwitch, @aceofspace95, @julessbrown, @thevelvetseries, @kotkaniemi-caufield-mom, @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @strangewhovian-blog, @officialfictionalwreck, @peachescream06 (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

[realcube]

Karasuno and their love languages headcanons

tw// cussing, sexual references

Shoyo Hinata

his love language is physical touch

after every one of his games, the first thing he does when he sees you is tackles you to the ground in a hug 

the day he walks beside you without holding your hand is the he is kidnapped and replaced with a clone 

and he’d always place a kiss on the tip of your nose and vice versa before you went your separate ways on the walk home 

and one time he caught a flu and (because he loved you so much) he wouldn’t go within 10 feet of you for like a week 

and that was the hardest week of his life

he almost had a meltdown on day 3 

HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE WITHOUT HIS GOODBYE KISSES?!

but don’t worry because as soon as his flu subsided, he gave you enough hugs and kisses to compensate for the whole week he missed

Tobio Kageyama

his love language is word of affirmation 

honestly, whenever you compliment his volleyball skills (even if it sounds really amateur) it makes his heart go 💖💞💕💓

not that he’d even admit it though

and recently, he’s been trying to compliment you more because some how he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t being nice enough to you and that you’d leave him for Oikawa if he didn’t step up his game 

so whenever you mention one of your slight achievements to him, he goes insane with the praise 

“Oh, Kags. Did I tell you about the English test?”

“No, you didn’t.” 

“Well, I got a pretty good mark so don’t stress about it. It was an easy test but you should probably still study though-”

“A good mark? (Y/N), that’s amazing.” He said in a monotonous voice, making you snicker slightly. 

Although his flattery didn’t seem genuine, you still appreciated his efforts

At least he tries

he just wants to make you feel the way he does when you compliment him 🥺

Kei Tsukishima 

his love language is acts of service

to him, nothing says ‘i love you’ like helping him fold the laundry 

he does acts of service for you too, like helping you with your homework

or sometimes you help him with his homework

honestly, it didn’t take long for you to figure out this man’s love language considering he’d describe all the other things as ‘shallow’

(other than quality time)

“Seriously? I mean, I’d hate to be in a relationship that was based off of compliments. That shit gets tiring, y’know?” he’d gush to you while you both were buying the groceries 

and don’t even get him started when you make his lunch hhhhhhh

one time he went downstairs to see that you had already made him lunch and at first he thought it was sweet but no big deal so he just texted you 

‘Thx for the lunch btw’

but when he actually got a bite of your god-tier onigiri

he deadass almost got up and said 🚶‍♂️✌

anyway when he got home you got railed so <3

and by railed, i mean you heart got railed because he gave you a kiss on the forehead :3

Tadashi Yamaguchi 

his love language is words of affirmation

again, his heart goes brrrrr whenever you compliment him 

but it’s different depending on what you compliment him on 

when it is on his volleyball skills, he feels chuffed and not absolutely worthless

if it is has something to do with his facial appearance, he gets that warm tingly feeling inside and gets the urge to cuddle you - which he usually acts on 

but if it is a comment on his body..the unholy thoughts-

like on one hand, he wants to crawl into a hole and die

but on the other hand, he is like ‘is that so?’

anyway, he doesn’t act on either of those thing so he usually ends up making a comment about your height in response 

also, you make sure to shower this boy in compliments because he deserves it 

and he does the exact same right back at you because you deserve it too

but he is shy so he either writes a note to you in class or, more commonly, he ends up texting you after a date like 

‘omg I AM SO STUPID AAAAAAA..! I wanted to say this so bad while I was with you but i just couldn’t >< anyway i think you look so beautiful and your hair was absolutely gorgeous in that style, goodnight <3′

Ryunosuke Tanaka

his love language is quality time 

this man has no chill

if you text him like ‘omg i wish you were here bb 🥺’

my mans would be RUNNING WKDHWESAK

his personal motto is ‘get that bread, get that head, get that love and affection, get that attention, get that movie, stay the night, THEN LEAVE! PEACE OUT!’

his home his your home and your home is his home 

then there was that one time that he studied so hard on his tests, just so he could pass and hopefully get moved up into your class 

mission unsuccessful but he did get good grades ^^

Yuu Nishinoya 

his love language is receiving/giving gifts

which is really hard coz y’all are poor lol 

jk jk 

but anyway, sometimes you find a cool rock on the ground and then give it to him like “this rock reminded me of you..”

and honestly, he thinks that his is the cutest thing ever

he has a display on his windowsill in his room of all the rocks you’ve given him ever

and sometimes he’ll catch an insect, put it in a container or a plastic bag and give it to you like “it reminded me of you!”

then he hands you a tub filled with worms lmao 

it’s the thought that counts

Asahi Azumane

his love language is physical touch

contrary to popular belief - it is not words of affirmation

he likes compliments and feeling worthy as much as the next person  but..

sometimes it makes him kinda flustered and self-conscious 

anyway, he thinks that actions speak louder than words

before a game, rather than verbally encouraging him, he prefers it when you play with his fingers or give him a massage 

that relaxes him ten times more than words ever could

 and he might not act like it in front of his friends - but he spends most of his day looking forward to 9 o’clock when y’all can both be together and cuddle in bed ^^

also, before a big game you make it your mission to wake up especially early , find Asahi and do his hair 

firstly, you do it better than he ever could 

secondly, the feeling of your fingers gently massaging his scalp and lacing his hair in between them just made him so calm

and in those moments he would just look up at you with admiration in his eyes and wonder what he ever did to deserve you

Koshi Sugawara 

his love language is quality time 

this man actually gets physical withdrawal symptoms when he is away from you for too long 

and his teammates know symptoms off by heart and the order they appear in so they can identify when Suga is going through YNWF (  Y/N withdrawal fever ):

The first sign of YNWF; excessive lip biting, lip dryness and generally poor lip condition - this is due to the fact that (Y/N) is the one that always reminds Suga to put on lip balm

The second sign of YNWF; becoming lenient and overly nice to the first years - since (Y/N) isn’t here, he has nobody to be nice to. So he is nice to the children.

The third phase of YNWF - and probably the most dangerous; mood swings. He goes from fanon to canon Suga real quick. 

The fourth and final phase of YNWF; denial. 

“No! I don’t miss (Y/N)! I am doing just fine without them.”

Then his teammates force him to facetime you and then he is cured.

Daichi Sawamura

his love language is physical touch 

every second he spends with you, he has his hands on you

not always in a sexual way, ofc

and he’ll immediately back off if you are even slightly uncomfortable with it 

but he just loves he feeling of having you close to him 

it makes him feel like he is protecting you (especially in front of Tanaka)

(’tanaka, nice kill!’)

and when he cuddles you to his chest, not only does it warm you up, but you also feel like you’re making him feel big and strong (which you are), so that makes you happy

also, Daichi will lend you ever single jumper/jersey/jacket he owns if you even shiver within a 10 metre radius of him

Chikara Ennoshita

his love language is quality time 

y’all don’t even need to be talking or even interacting 

as long as he is in the same room as you, he is chill

(Narita and Kinoshita are also quality time kinda guys because it is not like they get any quality time in the actual anime smh)

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 16

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you -  Cecilia and the satellite

————

Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 16

There were three things Claire was keenly aware of in that moment. First, that they were weeks behind Jamie and the gap of time seemed to stretch out ahead of them like the horizon ‒ something they’d never quite reach. The second was the gentle weight of Fergus’s head resting against her shoulder blade while he held loosely to her as their horse kept pace just behind Murtagh’s. She hated to move Fergus, and to stall their progress in closing the gap, but the third thing she was aware of was her bladder getting squished ‒ yet again ‒ as her body tried to accommodate its steadily growing inhabitant.

“Wait!” she called ahead to Murtagh as she started to slow her horse’s pace. Murtagh’s head whipped back frantically, but seeing no present sign of danger, there was a flash of irritation on his face ‒ but only for a moment. He slowed to a stop.

“I’ll be quick.”

Fergus slipped off the horse first and grabbed the reins so Claire could dismount. She did hurry, but the frequent breaks surely weren’t helping them catch up.

Inverness had been a bitter disappointment, to learn that Jamie and Faith had left the very next morning after Culloden and taken Mary with them. They were chasing after ghosts, not knowing the plan or final destination. The matron of the boarding house had only been able to give them the direction that the carriage left in, and from there, their search party stopped at every village, small town, and tavern along the way to inquire if a coach had passed through about 3 weeks ago.

The faint thrill of confirming Claire’s suspicion that Jamie had gone to Inverness first had quickly waned as they cobbled together some sort of trajectory to follow.

Only days before, in their trek through the war-torn Highlands, they’d caught on to the coach’s trail, with confirmed sightings of it that matched the time it should have passed through.

Still… as hard as it was to chase after Jamie and Faith, weeks behind them, they did so knowing that by all indications, Jamie and Faith were still alive and free, traveling under a guise with Mary Hawkins. That kept them pushing forward.

They started to build a map in their minds, comparing the direction the coach was traveling with potential destinations on the other side of that. Like Aberdeen or Dundee, or perhaps even further, into Perth or Edinburgh or Glasgow. And though Mary traveled with them… surely they wouldn’t cross into England…

“There’s a village no more’n half a day’s ride,” Murtagh said as Claire mounted her horse again and held steady while Fergus clamored up behind her. “We should aim tae make it there before dark. See if there’s anyone in town we can talk tae.”

Claire nodded briskly. “I’m sure we can manage that.” She glanced over her shoulder at Fergus. “All set?”

“Oui.”

“Then lead the way, Murtagh.”

  And amidst all of this was a fourth awareness, ever-present since she’d opened her eyes that morning. Something never far from her mind and that kept her heart heavy even as they chased desperately after her husband and child.

This day was Faith’s second birthday. And Claire was missing it.

  “Ye’d swear th’ whole village was blind…” Murtagh groused, mostly to himself. Then his gaze locked with Fergus’s and this time he directed his next words to the boy. “No’ a single intelligent person anywhere to be found.”

He proceeded to prepare the fresh-caught game for their dinner, not expecting a reply. Fergus stayed silent and swung his gaze over to Claire, checking her reaction.

She smiled slightly, all that she could muster in the moment.

“Where will we go now?” Fergus asked her.

“We’ll still keep pressing southward along the most likely route they would be traveling.” She tried to look more confident in that plan, but caught Murtagh’s frown and figured it hadn’t been too reassuring to Fergus. “Not the first place we’ve stopped without getting answers,” she added as a reminder.

“I suppose,” was all Fergus said to that. He’d built a fire and stacked the wood how Claire had taught him, so that a new log would feed into the fire once the one before it had turned to ash.

They’d made it to the village well before dark and after their rather unsuccessful encounter with the locals, they’d had time to head out to the woods and set up camp. With limited funds that they weren’t sure how far would need to be stretched, they rarely ate in town or stayed at a tavern for the night.

When the food had been cooked over the fire, Claire divided up the portions, giving Murtagh the largest. He tore off some of the meat from his portion and pushed it back into Claire’s hands. “Ye dinna eat enough,” he said in response to her bewilderment.

They ate the bird and some of the potatoes Jenny had provided.

“It’s Faith’s birthday,” Claire said softly over the crackle of the fire. “She’s two.”

Her statement was met with resounding silence from Murtagh and Fergus, except for the soft Scottish harrumph from the older man that she couldn’t quite interpret.

She wasn’t sure what she expected out of telling them, other than it felt wrong to let the day pass without acknowledging it in some way.

Fergus wiped one greasy hand on his pants and reached into his bag propped next to him. He fished out his wooden horse and set it to stand in the grass between him and Claire while he chewed. “Sometimes we have to wait for things, Milady,” he said kindly ‒ sagely, even ‒ while talking around the mouthful of food.

She locked eyes with him and felt her vision swim with tears when he nodded encouragingly. They’d asked him to wait when it was his birthday ‒ smack dab in the middle of a war ‒ and he was still waiting. Still believing that his wish would come to fruition ‒ that it would be Jamie who picked out the horse for him. And in order for that to happen, Fergus had to believe that they would be reunited.

“We will see le petit again.”

“Yes, we will,” she murmured in agreement.

And she did believe that. It was only… she was desperate to find them and had hoped to be reunited with them swiftly. But the reality was setting in… of how long and how far they might be searching still.

And all the while, Claire was missing more days, more moments in her daughter’s life that she’d never get back. How many days had she already lost… and how many more would be swallowed up in the time it took to find her?

  That night, Claire couldn’t sleep. She gave up after a while of lying there in the dark, listening to the soft crackling of a dying fire and the rustling of the wind through the trees, and finally pulled herself into a seated position facing the fire instead.

She caught Murtagh’s gaze across the fire instantly. “Not you too?”

“Aye,” he sighed.

“What’s keeping you up, then?” she asked, mostly so he wouldn’t ask her first.

He paused, linking his fingers together over his propped up knees. “Was thinking o’ the wee lass,” Murtagh admitted hesitantly, and Claire felt an instant pang in her heart. “The last time I saw her… and better times, too. Before the rising. At Lallybroch.”

She smiled against the urge to cry ‒ lately, she seemed on the verge of tears at any moment, the cause of which could never be determined between her raging pregnancy hormones or the pain of separation from Jamie and Faith. More than likely, it was some tangled-up knot of both things, she reasoned.

“She is a canny wee lass, and sae bonny and sweet.”

She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Murtagh cared for Faith ‒ had seen firsthand at Lallybroch how the baby could draw a smile out of the dour old man better than anyone else ‒ but she’d never heard him articulate it so.

And god, it hurt like nothing else ever had ‒ missing Faith and knowing she had other loved ones who were missing her just the same.

Murtagh breathed in deep, and let his breath out slowly, his gaze on the dwindling flames. “I’m only sorry and heartsick for my role in all this… that I played a part in why ye canna see yer lass now, on the anniversary o’ her birth.”

She felt her throat constrict and shook her head. How many rounds of the blame game had she played for herself? “No, Murtagh… I’m sorry,” she managed in a hoarse whisper. “For what I said when I came back. For striking you. I don’t blame you for any of this. I was terrified and angry that they weren’t back at Lallybroch like I’d hoped, and I took it out on you.” She thought of her conversation with Jenny, and the words they’d repeated to each other in reassurance, in absolution. “None of us knew. None of us chose this outcome.”

She stared across at his hardened face, the lines of it appearing sharper in the fading light of the fire. He didn’t speak, and she wondered if that meant he wouldn’t accept her words for himself.

“Please forgive me?”

“Och,” he said immediately. “There’s nothing tae forgive, lass.”

They fell quiet for a moment, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Had her words made any difference, or did he still blame himself even if she didn’t?

  There was a strange sense that they were merely retracing steps they’d already taken during the rising. That’s how it felt to Claire at least as they entered Kingussie, near where they had started training Jamie’s men back in August of last year.

They walked into Kingussie on account of Murtagh’s horse needing a new shoe. Upon arriving, Claire handed Murtagh a few coins for the blacksmith and considered out loud how much food she should purchase to replenish their stock.

It was then they all seemed to take notice of a handful of Redcoats exiting the tavern.

“Fergus, stay close to me,” Claire instructed as they parted with Murtagh.

She’d thought Fergus was right behind her as she walked through the small market and picked out some grains and vegetables to pair with the fish or meat that Murtagh usually provided for their meals.

She turned a corner and nearly knocked Fergus over. “Oh. Where have you been?” She set her basket down and her hands went instantly to her hips.

Fergus shook his head as if to indicate that was of little importance.

“Here, Milady.” He reached for her hand and dropped several coins into it.

Her eyes went wide with shock. “Fergus!”

He turned defensive at her tone, seeing she wasn’t exactly pleased. “I will not let you starve! And there is le bébé as well. I heard Murtagh say you need to eat well enough so it can grow.”

“Yes, but do you understand that there are very real consequences to stealing if you are caught?” she snapped at him in a harsh whisper. There was a flash of indignation in his eyes at that.

“I will not get caught.”

She grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him over to a more secluded spot away from the market stalls.

“You might! There’s always the risk and ‒ for Christ’s sake, Fergus, there are British soldiers right here in town!”

“Where do you think I found those coins?”

She was horrified at what he’d just admitted, with the sudden urge to sequester him out of town immediately, should any of the Redcoats realized what had been done.

“Milord would not have doubted me,” he added accusingly, clearly in response to whatever he’d read in her face.

She recoiled from his words. “It’s not a matter of doubt, I‒”

There was a flicker of movement in her periphery and when she glanced over, what she found made her blood run cold.

Murtagh, on the other side of town from them, surrounded by the soldiers.

Fergus’s head whipped around and Claire had barely enough time to slip a hand over his mouth and hold him back with the other arm before he did something truly stupid.

“Don’t, Fergus,” she pleaded in a desperate whisper as he struggled to break free and rush toward Murtagh. “He’ll be alright. Don’t provoke them. He knows what to do.”

You’ll get yourself killed…

All the while, her heart thundered in her chest, and she hoped that what she’d said would remain true; Murtagh was a stubborn Scot through and through, but he wasn’t stupid. He was outnumbered five to one. Should these soldiers happen to have rosters of Jacobite soldiers, they wouldn’t find Murtagh’s name on it. Jamie had had the foresight to keep Murtagh and the Lallybroch men off of any records during the war.

And with a month having passed since the battle, Murtagh had put away his kilts at Claire’s insistence and now wore breeks. He didn’t look the part of a Jacobite soldier and there was no way these men could prove that Murtagh had fought.

Unless one of them recognized him…

Claire tried to steady her breathing and when she felt as though Fergus had gained some semblance of self-control, she let her hand fall away from his mouth, but still held him anchored in place beside her.

They watched the exchange between Murtagh and the soldiers but were too far away to catch what was being said.

But she took in the way the soldiers acted, the glances they shared, the way they held themselves tall and proud.

And the way Murtagh had to shrink in their presence.

The Redcoats were the recent victors, having put down the Jacobite rebellion. And to them, that meant they could assert their superiority over the people of Scotland as they saw fit.

Finally, the soldiers appeared to be ready to move on, some of them shifting their weight from one foot to the other and beginning to turn and break off from the group.

But one soldier still spoke to Murtagh until suddenly and unexpectedly, Claire and Fergus watched as he spat in Murtagh’s face.

Fergus flinched with his whole body. Claire subconsciously tightened her hold on him and something between a cry and a sound of disgust slipped out of her.

The soldiers moved away then, nothing escalating from them, but it was the sight of Murtagh standing tall and refusing to wipe his face in front of them that finally broke Claire.

There had been no reason for it; the man had spit on Murtagh simply because he could. Because he knew Murtagh wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

And to watch helplessly while these men degraded Murtagh left her with an emblazoned fury building in her chest. They weren’t better than him. And she knew if it wasn’t for Fergus right beside her just then, she would’ve been tempted to do something about it herself.

But she wouldn’t risk her boy. And Murtagh wouldn’t want that either.

Fergus himself was seething at her side and she had to tug him away and turn him so she could look him in the eye.

“I will slit their throats,” he said with such conviction that she was stunned into silence for several beats.

“Look, I’m angry too,” she assured him. “But Murtagh is alright‒”

“They had no right to‒” “I know. I agree with you.”

“They should still pay for what they did.”

She drew in a deep breath and fished out the coins from her skirt pocket. “Let this be your revenge, hmm?”

Fergus seethed in front of her, sorting through his thoughts. “I wish I had waited to rob them until now,” he said finally. “I would have taken much more from them. Bastards.”

With that, she realized they’d reached a resolution, and with a heavy sigh, she placed one hand gently on the back of his neck to tug his head forward into the cradle of her chest. He went willingly, his slight arms snaking around her waist to hold tight. “It’d be much harder to look for Jamie and Faith if we’re on the run from the Redcoats,” she said softly, hoping this idea above all else might take root with Fergus. He was so god damn cavalier sometimes, he had no idea how often he’d scared the living daylights out of her by doing something careless and risky.

Fergus sighed heavily, still vibrating with frustration. “I know, Milady.”

They waited for Murtagh to find them, having come to some unspoken understanding not to bring up what happened with the soldiers or admit that they had witnessed it. When Murtagh did join them, he was terse and itching to move on from Kingussie as swiftly as could be arranged, which Claire didn’t begrudge him for.

Murtagh’s horse had been giving a new horseshoe and Claire had enlisted Fergus’s help in gathering a few more necessities to augment their dwindling supply. But there was usually another reason they spent time in each village before they could move on and Claire hesitantly pointed that out.

“Dinna need to ask around. I already learnt all we need to know.”

“Someone here saw Jamie and Faith?” she asked, feeling a little breathless. Fergus perked up at this.

“No’ exactly. But the blacksmith had a lot tae say about a certain devilish black beast he had the misfortune o’ re-shoeing a few weeks ago.”

“Donas!” Fergus said brightly.

“Aye.” He smiled slightly as he grabbed Fergus’s shoulder and gave him a playful shake. “So we’re on th’ right path, aye? Dinna fash, laddie.”

“Let’s not linger about then,” Claire said decidedly.

  She could tell there was something else going on with Murtagh, but chalked it up to the encounter with the Redcoats.

They’d ridden for as long as they could after leaving Kingussie before stopping for the night. Their evening passed in a similar fashion as it did every other night, with the one exception that Murtagh had found a moment when Fergus was out of earshot to ask Claire to wait up after the boy fell asleep.

Once he had, Murtagh jumped into his news without preamble.

“Black Jack Randall is dead.”

Her stomach dropped.

“What?” Her gaze flew to the outline of Fergus’s slumbering form under his blanket. He didn’t stir.

Of course she knew that bit of information. She hadn’t forgotten Frank’s discovery that Randall seemed to have died away from the battlefield, within a few days of it. The thought that he’d gotten to Jamie and Faith had haunted her, but she knew by the time she had traveled back here ‒ by the time she had learned the news even ‒ it would have been too late to do anything about it.

“How‒”

“Redcoats,” Murtagh muttered. “That’s why they stopped me.”

“I knew he was dead,” Claire admitted. “But the soldiers told you that?”

“Aye and there’s a bit more. They found his body at a tavern just outside Carrbridge.”

Carrbridge. They had gone through there as well, spoken with the owner of the tavern who confirmed that a carriage had passed through there. Said nothing of a dead body, though. Murtagh said as much and Claire shrugged.

“Suppose that might be bad for business. What else did you learn about this?”

“No’ much, but they are looking for whoever killed him. That’s why they stopped me to ask about my whereabouts, where I was from.” He absently tossed a leaf into the fire and watched it burn up. “The good news is they dinna seem to have connected it tae Jamie.”

Neither of them had said it, but both of them knew. It had to be Jamie.

“Well, I guess that’s something,” Claire agreed. “Did they‒ I don’t suppose it would matter to the soldiers but… no one else was hurt?”

Murtagh’s gaze locked onto hers and he smiled sympathetically. “Didna say. But we do know they came through Kingussie afterwards. Blacksmith confirmed as much.”

A cold feeling had crept in and Claire hated to put it into words. “He said he saw the horse. He didn’t say anything about Jamie or Faith, did he?”

“He did say there was a rather large man who helped him wi’ Donas. I didna press for details, but I’m sure that was Jamie.”

That she could believe… but what of Faith?

“He wouldna have kept going if Faith was lost,” Murtagh said bluntly. “What reason would he have?”

“Well, Mary was still with him. I imagine he wouldn’t just abandon her to the wilds of Scotland to fend for herself, she being an Englishwoman after all.”

Murtagh grunted softly at that. “Ye’re tired, a nighean,” he said gruffly, in a way that Claire knew to mean that he cared. “Get some sleep.”

She smiled half-heartedly at that ‒ and did stretch out on her spot near the fire for the night. But sleep evaded her, as it so often had on this journey.

Even if Faith survived… had she been hurt? Had Jamie? And had she been scared, in whatever events unfolded when they encountered Black Jack Randall?

Claire had told herself so many times that they must’ve slipped away from the British ‒ and thus Randall ‒ as her way of coping with the unknown. But now… to know that he had found them… sought them out, even…

Until they found them and she could see for herself that they were alright, she wouldn’t have a moment of peace.

  One day, a storm caught them unawares. Their last touchpoint to civilization was a day’s ride behind them, and they’d started their travel early that morning, when the clouds were only an unassuming, white canopy above them.

But then the sky darkened and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and by the time they were scrambling towards the trees, they’d already been caught in the torrential downpour of rain.

Fergus argued for the cause to keep going, even through the storm, but Claire was firm in stating the risks that that would pose, such as hypothermia and pneumonia. Murtagh was more concerned about the risk of mudslides with the horses, but the two of them were at least united in the cause to wait out the storm.

That was how they found themselves wedged tightly under a small shelter they’d constructed, huddled in a line in front of a small fire at the edge of the shelter.

Yet another delay in their journey.

She glanced down at Fergus and saw his face drawn tight with concern. Slipping an arm around his shoulders, she tugged him even closer to her. “You know, in my time… there are horseless carriages called automobiles. What I wouldn’t give to have one of those right now…”

Fergus’s brows furrowed as he considered this. “How do they move without a horse?”

“They’re motorized. They have something called an engine that makes them run. And they can go even faster than a horse.”

She passed the time describing everything she could of a modern car to Fergus, and then moved on to tanks, trains, bicycles, and aeroplanes. Much like Jamie, the concept of flying through the sky fascinated Fergus.

And once she’d run out of modes of transportation to describe, she fell quiet and let Fergus (and Murtagh, she assumed) ponder these oddities of the future.

“It sounds so grand, Milady,” he said at length, leaning his head back against her shoulder. The rain lessened some, but was still steadily coming down.

“Hmm,” she murmured softly. “Maybe some things in comparison to this time might seem that way…”

But she’d seen the ugliness of the World War in her time, and she’d found beauty in this time, considered to be crude and uncivilized in comparison.

“Do you miss it at all?”

“No,” she said easily. “Although… the hot baths, yes. Especially now.”

Fergus pulled a face at that. “You can take hot baths in this time, Milady…” he said slowly, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing at him explaining that to her.

“Yes, I know, but it’s not nearly as much work in my time. Just turn on the faucet and it’s already hot.”

“... faucet? And how is it already hot?”

“Before ye begin tae explain that one, I think my heid’s already done in wi’ everything else ye’ve given me to consider,” Murtagh interjected suddenly.

“We can leave indoor plumbing for another day,” Claire agreed with a laugh.

  They had reached a long stretch of wild country with little in the way of civilization. A land they had traversed before, twice during the rising. And along with their trek through the remote Highlands wilderness was an impending sense of dread. What if they missed a checkpoint or overshot Jamie’s path? Could somewhere within this deserted expanse of land be where he would choose to hide out from the British?

They were steering towards the village of Kenmore, Murtagh having decided that was the most likely stop on the journey. And since he’d been right about Jamie’s instinct to flee to the north two years ago, Claire was inclined to trust his judgement on this. Especially since he knew the landscape of this place much better than she did.

The nights had become the only moments on this journey when Claire and Murtagh could speak without Fergus being awake and present for the conversation.

Not every night. But enough that it had become something of a routine more often than not.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Claire began one night when the howl of the wind coming down from the mountain kept her from sleep. “That we’ve found ourselves at this again… searching for weeks but never quite finding him.”

Murtagh grunted in acknowledgement, a cheerless smile in place. “Och, aye. Canna forget that silly tune you sang during that time even if I tried.”

“What? The one you taught me?”

“Nay, lass,” He fired back indignantly. “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.”

She laughed as the memory resurfaced. “I sang that to you once.”

“Aye,” he said sourly, “And it stuck.”

“Hmm, my apologies for all you’ve apparently suffered as a result. I happen to like that one.”

“Weel, it never would ha’ worked for our purposes,” he said as one last hit against her song.

The wind whipped through their camp again and Claire pulled her thick shawl tighter about her. With the wind, the mood shifted, bringing them back to their reality. They were hungry, tired, cold, on what seemed like an endless journey. Their small moment of joy dissipated, as if carried away on the harsh wind itself.

“What if we never find him?” Claire uttered the words just above a whisper. “He has no idea we’re looking for him.”

She had no doubt that if Jamie Fraser wanted to disappear into the night without a trace, he could do it. And what would stop him?

The difference between this time and before was that Jamie had been looking for a way to return to her. Now, he believed her gone.

“Found him once before,” Murtagh reminded her.

“Yes. Captured. I’m less worried about that this time, though.”

“Then what?”

Claire shrugged, trying to appear more unaffected by her fears. “He has Faith with him. He thinks I’m gone. He knows the Redcoats will either kill him or imprison him if they find him… so he’d make sure they couldn’t be found, right? By anyone.”

Murtagh made that Scottish sound at the back of his throat and didn’t say anything else.

“And Fergus…” She drew in a shaky breath. “Well, I just worry. He loves Jamie so much… and I don’t know‒” She thought of that day in Kingussie, how he’d said Jamie would never doubt him. “If it’s just me that Fergus has… what if that’s not… enough?”

“Claire.” Murtagh said her name in such a way that it felt as though he was gently chiding her. “The lad loves ye.”

Her throat clogged with emotion and she wiped gingerly at the silent tears that spilled down her cheeks.

Murtagh sighed heavily. “Ye didna see him. After Culloden. When I came back wi’ the news that Jamie would stay to fight… there was still a hope, ken? That Jamie could survive the battle. We waited for news o’ him for days and days. But ye and Faith were gone for good ‒ that’s what we kent at the time. For two weeks, Fergus grieved ye. Ye’re his family too. He doesna just want Jamie back… he needs ye both, ken.”

She nodded solemnly, still too choked up to speak as fresh tears clouded her eyes. He did something then he hadn’t yet in any of their late-night conversations; she watched as he stood and made his way over to her side of the fire, plopping down next to her. His arm went about her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“S’alright, a nighean.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling more emotions in that moment than she could put into words, but taking comfort in Murtagh’s support and steadfast loyalty while everything else in her life felt shaky at best.

“I’m glad you’re here, searching with us.”

“Aye. I’m glad ye came back,” he said with tenderness in his voice. “And we’ll find Jamie and wee Faith. Dinna fash yerself.”

  They were just departing from Sterling when the choice had to be made. Before them laid two potential paths with no indication of which one the carriage had traveled.

Should they go west towards Glasgow? Or East along the river towards Edinburgh?

Jamie’s end goal was still hazy to them, but they were fairly sure by now that he wouldn’t proceed much farther south than either of those cities.

“The lowlands were largely on the side of the British, so either place is risky,” Claire pointed out.

“Aye,” Murtagh sneered, none too pleased to have left the Highlands either way. “But Glasgow wasna a point of conflict during the rising. Edinburgh is likely still crawling with Redcoats since they recaptured it months ago.”

Claire considered this, wondering what Jamie would choose. What would be safer for Faith. “So Glasgow?”

“Glasgow,” Murtagh agreed.

  “And how fast can they go, again?” Fergus’s curiosity had circled back around to the topic of cars, and Claire indulged him, having little else to pass the time while they traveled.

“There were some cars that could travel 80 miles per hour.”

“Eighty?” She knew he couldn’t really grasp it, having never traveled that fast before, but the number was very high. Much faster than they could manage on horseback.

“Oh, yes. Dangerously fast.” She couldn’t explain what prompted her next words, perhaps born out of her desire to protect those she could while struggling with the separation from Jamie and Faith. “They can be terribly dangerous. That’s how my parents were killed when I was young. A car accident.”

Fergus was quiet for a moment and she wished he wasn’t seated behind her so she could see his face.

“I did not know that, Milady,” he said softly, with an undercurrent of compassionate understanding she didn’t expect most eleven-year-olds possessed. His arms gave her waist a gentle squeeze and she patted his hands where they rested overlapping on her stomach.

“Didn’t seem relevant exactly when I was giving everyone the truth of the stones and where I’d come from. But yes, I should’ve told you. I lost them when I was five. After that, I went to stay with Uncle Lamb.”

She caught the slight chuckle from Fergus. Yes, those stories he had heard, some even before the truth of her origins, though those were always carefully constructed. He’d heard a few more on this journey and always delighted in them.

“I didn’t realize you were a girl then. With Uncle Lamb,” Fergus admitted and then, after some consideration, added, “I can’t imagine you as a child, Milady.”

“What, this whole time you thought I was an adult in all my stories with Uncle Lamb?”

“Yes,” he admitted with a laugh.

“I guess that makes sense. I always had trouble picturing my parents as younger than I would’ve known them. My Uncle Lamb too, for that matter.”

Their conversation lapsed in a comfortable sort of way. There was an intimacy in their shared experience and though Murtagh was only a few feet ahead of them, he felt miles away from their small bubble. And what Murtagh shared about Fergus’s grief was never very far from her mind.

“I used to play a game when I was little. After my parents died and I went to live with my uncle. I would pretend that they were out there in the world somewhere, still alive, and they would come get me eventually. It felt easier sometimes, if I could just pretend that I was waiting on them.”

“I used to play a game,” Fergus began quietly and Claire strained to listen, “that I had ended up at Maison Elise by mistake and my parents were looking for me all that time. I would imagine what it would be like to have them show up and take me away, to a home.”

“What was it like? What did you imagine?”

“It was one of those big houses that I would pass on my walks through Le Marais. Of course I’d never been inside a house that grand until Milord brought me to Monsieur Jared’s house. That house was more beautiful than any of my imaginings.”

She felt his head come to rest against her back again. “Of course, by then I did not need to imagine such things anymore.”

Her heart leapt to her throat and she gave another reassuring squeeze of his hands within her own.

  They’d lost the trail.

By now, they’d learned to not give up if they came up empty at the first and second stops, but by their sixth time coming up empty, the doubt began to set in.

“Do we double back?” Claire asked. “Head for Edinburgh?”

In some part of her brain, the question rolled around that maybe this had been Jamie’s plan all along. For weeks, she’d feared reaching a point where any trace of them simply vanished.

Murtagh seemed to catch that look of despair in her eyes. “We head back to our last confirmed sighting. Go from there.”

Back to Sterling. From his spot behind Murtagh, Claire watched as Fergus’s face fell at the realization of the time they’d wasted since choosing Glasgow.

  Fergus’s bedding was angled in such a way that when he curled up for the night, his head rested close to Claire’s.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she said softly to him, propping her head up on one hand. She studied his young face, glowing orange from the light of their campfire. “Are you feeling alright? You’re not sick, are you?”

“Oui, Milady, I am just tired.” He said all of this half-heartedly and without taking his gaze from the fire.

She reached out and brushed a hand over his messy curls. His eyes slid shut and he sighed. She thought of all he’d gone through in the last month and a half, from war to loss and disappearances of loved ones, to having one returned to him unexpectedly. And again she thought of his grief ‒ it struck a chord deep within her that she wasn’t soon to forget ‒ and wondered if Fergus was already bracing for some sort of loss with Jamie.

And that thought broke her heart clean in two. Because she couldn’t protect him from the hurt if anything did happen to Jamie, or if they failed to find him.

“Look at me, love.”

She waited until he had listened and tilted his head back to look at her. “I know we’ve been at this for a while. I’m tired, too. That’s alright.” She kept brushing back his curls from his forehead as she spoke. “And I know I can’t make any guarantees, but for what it’s worth, I believe we’ll find them. But no matter what, you have me. You have Murtagh. The baby, too, eventually,” she said with slight laughter in her voice. She was rewarded with a small smile out of Fergus.

“You have me, too, Milady. No matter what happens.”

She leaned across and kissed the top of his head. “It’ll be alright, love. Try and get some sleep.”

  Claire laid there in the dark looking up at the stars, long after Murtagh’s snores had begun and Fergus went still and quiet. Her thoughts swirling around Jamie and Faith, the heavy fears of losing them or never finding them, the worry over Fergus and how he was faring‒

She breathed in sharply and one hand flew to her stomach, though there was nothing to be felt under its palm. But there had been a quickening in her belly ‒ the first movement she’d felt of this baby from within.

“Oh…” she breathed out. Tears sprouted in her eyes and spilled over gently. She was scared to move in that moment, like she might startle the small thing somehow. It was so quick, she wondered if she had imagined it. But no, she knew that feeling from when she’d carried Faith. “Hello, you little darling,” she whispered into the night. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Her hand rubbed slow circles over the firm, small bump. “Thank you for letting me know you’re still there.”

  Claire knew it was coming ‒ had remembered well enough from when she’d traveled through here with the Jacobite army ‒ and careened to the side in her saddle, trying to see around the bend.

Yes ‒ there it was!

“Fergus,” she called out, pulling her horse up alongside Murtagh’s. He looked at her, bewildered, and she grinned. “Look up ahead.”

Though they’d lost time in misjudging Jamie’s next steps, they had eventually caught the trail again after starting fresh from Sterling. Now, they were quite certain that Jamie and Faith were in‒

“Edinburgh!” Fergus exclaimed as the first sights of the city came into view. His gaze flew back to Claire’s. “We’re almost home, Milady!”

She felt her vision burn with tears and had to face forward to keep from crumbling as Fergus’s words landed.

This place had never been home to them, but Jamie and Faith had… and they were almost home again.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 26

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week oh god it’s only gonna get worse

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25

Wei Ying, courtesy name Wei WuXian, the direct descendent of the Immortal Empress, the Divine Ruler of the Shan Dynasty, the rightful Guardian of the Immortal Mountain, has been standing at the Peach Blossom Pavilion gate for entirely too long.

Arranging the short trip from the Jade Sword Palace to the Peach Blossom Pavilion had taken nearly an hour. Wei WuXian could have flown across the rooftops in a tenth of that time, and already accomplished his task five times over. But the Emperor requires an escort. The Emperor requires five layers of black and gold cloth, which is already proving unbearable in the midday heat. The Emperor requires a heavy gold hair piece, and a fan, and a parasol to protect him from the sun’s glare, servants who will carry the parasol and the excess material of his robe, ten Imperial Guards at the minimum, and four more servants to stand at attention, in the event that the Emperor finds himself in need of them.  

Lan Zhan had asked him to use the door. Wei Ying is going to use the door. He is the Divine Ruler of the Shan Dynasty, not some rogue cultivator without a copper in his pocket, begging for favor. He has never been intimidated by Sect Leader Lan, and he is not intimidated today.

He should not care if Lan QiRen hates him. Wei Ying is very much aware that he is already hated by Jin GuangShan, Wen RuoHan, and another half dozen sect leaders. Between the memories of YanLing DaoRen’s tyranny, and his mother’s forbearance so often mistaken for weakness, the hatred of their direct descendent was always an inevitability. Years of unsuccessful assassination attempts have made the animosity pretty difficult to ignore.

But Lan Zhan loves his uncle. And Wei Ying cannot bear the idea of being hated by someone Lan Zhan loves.

“Your Majesty,” Nie MingJue says, “would you prefer to stay out here?”

“No,” Wei Ying says, “I just-- need a moment.”

Nie MingJue nods, and goes back to standing at attention.

There are times that Wei Ying hates being the Emperor.

The Lan Sect Leader has never shown the Emperor an ounce more deference than what is absolutely necessary. In the past six years, he had arrived at the Immortal Mountain City each time he was summoned. He never asked for a single favor, never spoke unless he was addressed, never attended a single outing, event, or a banquet, unless his presence was specifically required. Wei Ying was accustomed to the world in which sect leaders flattered him endlessly to his face, then tried to stab him the moment his back was turned.

He is not accustomed to men like Lan QiRen.  

“Make the announcement,” he says.

His palms are sweaty and cold. How stupid, that his hands are freezing, while the rest of him is boiling under the bright, midday sun.    

A-Sang’s plan is already in motion. The rumors of the Emperor’s agenda for the day have been carefully spreading through the Immortal Mountain City for the past two hours. They are false rumors, intentionally whispered into the wrong ear by one of A-Sang’s servants. Jiang Cheng will be taking Wei Ying’s place in the Imperial Gardens, pretending to participate in a clandestine meeting. Shijie has already extended a gracious invitation to the Jin Sect leader, Madam Jin, and Jin ZiXuan, an invitation that cannot be declined. Twenty trustworthy members of the Nie Sect have departed for YiLing on the pretense of participating in a night hunt.

All the pieces are falling in their place. All Wei Ying needs to do is speak to Lan QiRen.

The three Lan Sect members are in the courtyard to welcome him, their postures identical.

Wei Ying motions that they should rise. Lan Zhan is wearing a simple set of robes, utterly unadorned, the cloth light and appropriate for the heat of the day. His hair is free of ornaments; it is restrained by a plain, white piece of cloth, matching his robes. In the sunlight, the layers of his hair shift from black to amber, his eyes from brown to liquid gold. His face is soft and open. He looks as if he may smile.  

The escort is ordered to remain in the courtyard. A-Sang had decided that their circle of trust cannot extend to the Imperial servants or the Imperial Guards. Even so, Wei Ying had forgotten how small the Peach Blossom Pavilion actually is; even five people in its receiving hall appears to be two too many.

In the past, Lan QiRen had never made use of the Imperial servants placed at his disposal. He is not the only Sect Leader to be wary of unfamiliar help, and Wei Ying had never given the man’s preferences much thought. However, he had assumed that this visit, requiring the presence of both Young Masters, would have incited the man to bring his own. Instead, Lan Zhan and Lan XiChen excuse themselves to perform the task of preparing tea, and any other refreshments that need to be served.    

“This is an unexpected pleasure,” Lan QiRen says after all the courtesies have been observed, his voice unfailingly polite, “To what do we owe the honor of Your Majesty’s visit?”

“There is to be a small outing to YiLing this afternoon. I had hoped that the Young Masters would grant me the pleasure of their company.”

“I was not aware that the Emperor was planning on an Imperial Procession through YiLing during the festival,” Lan QiRen says.

“The Emperor is not planing to hold an Imperial Procession,” Wei Ying says, “in fact, the details of this outing must be kept secret. Our intention is to draw out the person responsible for the assassination attempts. Rumors intended to misdirect the assassin and their accomplices have already been spread throughout the court. A trap has been set in the Imperial Gardens. In the view of this, removing the targets of the assassination attempts from the Immortal Mountain seems the preferable course of action.”

Lan QiRen is silent for long moments, his face unreadable.

For the first time, it strikes Wei Ying that the Lan Sect Leader is not a young man. He had been born during YanLing DaoRen’s reign, into a world already rife with chaos. Lan QiRen’s grandfather, Lan XuYun, had been one of the first Sect Leaders to pledge his loyalty to the Immortal Empress.

Lan QiRen is not stupid. The man had understood how the Emperor’s attachment to the Wen in the Immortal City was adversely affecting the Lan Sect long before Wei Ying himself had come to the same conclusion. Lan QiRen had known, and he had said nothing. All these years of suffering resentment and humiliation, he had resolutely refused all assistance offered, without ever showing an ounce of bitterness or ill will towards the Wen Sect, or the Emperor. Instead, he had shouldered the ever-increasing burden with dignity, and then taught both of his nephews to do the same.

Wei Ying does not need this man to like him, but being hated by him no longer feels like an acceptable outcome.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Wei Ying says, “I would like to speak to Sect Leader Lan in private for a moment. Please see if the Young Masters require any assistance with their task.”

Wei Ying will need to make Nie MingJue’s title particularly grand, in order to compensate for sending him to the kitchens to watch tea being brewed. But he must speak to Lan QiRen of sensitive matters, and he must do so now, while he still feels brave enough to do so.

The moment he can be certain that they will not be overheard, Wei Ying takes a deep breath, and dives under, “Sect Leader, I understand that you do not like me, do not trust me, and disapprove of of my continued association with your nephew. I cannot be someone you approve of, and any attempt to meet your expectations will doubtlessly prove to be unproductive and frustrating for both of us. Let us simply acknowledge that you will never see me as being worthy of your nephew, and that in this, at least, we may find a common ground.”

Lan QiRen leans back slightly, his expression registering a hint of surprise.

“Regardless of your disapproval,” Wei Ying says firmly, “I intend to ask Lan WangJi to take his place by my side as the Emperor Consort. I will not list all the reasons why I personally prefer him to every person I have ever met, as I am sure that this conversation would become unbearably uncomfortable for both of us. However, I am very well aware that destiny saw fit to place me into a position of power regardless of my qualifications, and that I have often failed to meet the challenges this position presents. Therefore, you cannot begrudge me the wish to share that seat of power with someone who is infinitely superior in every way.”

“Your Majesty,” Lan QiRen says, his surprise shifting to cool politeness once again, “the Lan Sect is honored by your attention. We serve at the pleasure of the Emperor.”

Wei Ying cannot stand the man’s politeness right now. He would rather have Lan QiRen pull out his sword, and attempt to skewer him to the floor. At least in that, there would be some honesty.

“Sect Leader, we have a small window of time in which we may converse openly. If I must, I will order that you speak plainly, and without hesitation. But I believe no such order is necessary.”

Lan QiRen’s expression hardens, and Wei Ying braces himself for an attack.

“WangJi will never compete for Your Majesty’s attention,” he says coldly, “He is ill-suited to a life of frivolity and stagnation. He will surpass Your Majesty in cultivation, if he has not already done so, and he will never make himself less for Your Majesty’s sake. The petty rivalries and empty flattery of the court will make him wretched. And he is certainly incapable of providing an heir to the throne, which will serve as a continuous reminder that he can be easily replaced. In short, Your Majesty, I am finding it hard to believe that you have thought your decision through with care that it deserves.”

“Lan Zhan will never have to compete for my attention,” Wei Ying says, “It is more likely that the Empire will need to compete with him, and may often find itself on the losing side. I am certain that he has already surpassed me in cultivation; a fact that has only inspired admiration, not resentment. The petty rivalries and empty flattery of the court are inevitable, but he will have the power to deal with them in any way he sees fit. And the throne already has an heir.”

The last bit seems to take Lan QiRen off guard, and he is studies Wei Ying carefully for a few moments, as if unsure what to make of him.

“In the interest of full disclosure, I am not unwilling to share the name of the heir to the throne with the Lan Sect,” Wei Ying says, “However, I do believe that this information should be shared with Lan Zhan first, if he chooses to accept my proposal.”

“If he refuses?” Lan QiRen says.

Wei Ying meets Lan QiRen’s gaze with all the composure he possesses, “Lan Zhan is the best judge of his own happiness. If he refuses, I will respect his decision.”

The silence that follows is not long, but it is the most intolerable silence of Wei Ying’s life.

Just when he thinks he cannot bear it any longer, Lan QiRen nods.

His expression seems to reflect resignation rather than outright approval, but this is an acceptable outcome. Wei Ying wonders if he should offer to let the man stab him once. He is sure this would make Sect Leader Lan much more amenable. It is not an ideal solution, but Wei Ying has been stabbed before, by men a lot less worthy of his respect.

Luckily, the tea is finally ready, so that decision, at least, can be postponed until later.

[slitherofgold]

I loathe you Pt 1- Sam Fender Imagine

Standing before the mirror, you were impressed with the reflection. You had made an effort with your appearance (for once) and the result wasn’t too bad. You were looking forward to tonight, finally getting the chance to catch up with the boys who had been on tour for months. You had missed them, in fact your home town didn’t feel the same without them. The plan was drinks at your local pub- the Low Lights Tavern- just so you could catch up and see how everyone was doing. Well, not everyone. Thankfully, Drew had convinced Sam not to come for your sake. It wasn’t as if you hated the guy, but he always seemed to kill the mood with his sulky attitude and blunt remarks. It was almost as if he despised you and just couldn’t stand your company, so you kindly asked Drew not to invite Sam. 

You hopped in the taxi and headed towards the tavern, getting more eager by the second to see your friends. The pub was your guys spot, whenever someone needed to celebrate, whenever someone was sad, whenever someone needed to let off a little steam, you’d always meet at this spot. 

You walked in and instantly looked towards your usual booth.You would’ve been happy to be reminded of your friends faces, but unfortunately to your dismay, Mr Sam Fender was sat with them, blatant of your arrival. You were tempted to walk back out, to come up with some petty excuse for you to leave, but it was too late, the gang had noticed you. “Y/n!”, Dean waved you over, obviously happy to see you. You quickly plastered on a smile and strutted in their direction. You were not going to let Sam ruin tonight.

“Hey guys, long time no see.” Dean squeezed up, allowing room for you to sit. Within an instant it was like they had never left. They told you stories from on tour (like Sam threatening to break into a Greggs after a particularly messy night out) and they had asked about what you had been up to too. 

“So y/n you seeing anyone”, Drew asked, whilst side-glancing towards Sam. Great, you were going to be reminded YET AGAIN that you were still single, and you were certain that Sam basked in your sad, single loneliness. 

“Yep obviously. I think I just defer guys with my presence.”

“Obviously”, Sam muttered under his breath. You pretended to ignore him but you couldn’t help but notice the sharp glance Drew gave him from across the table. He quickly attempted to assure you. “Nah that’s not true, I knew a bunch of guys who had a crush on you at school.”

“Yeah, like who?” You raised your brow out of curiosity.

“Sorry that’s classified information. I promised I’d never tell.”

“Drew, school was nine years ago.” You folded your arms across the table, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah but it was a pinky promise and you know how sacred they are.”

“Sure, now I’m gonna go get us some more drinks before you bore everyone with my non-existent love life.” You left the table and headed towards the bar, hoping they’d change the topic by the time you’d get back. It wasn’t as if your love life was non-existent it was just very much unsuccessful. For some reason you had a certain type for dickheads, the kind who loved to walk all over you and cheat whenever they felt like it. In a way you were grateful for your chain of ex-lovers, they had made you tougher to a certain extent, and boys knew it too. In fact, most of the time, the boys refused to meet whoever you were dating. It was almost as if they could see right through each and every bloke, and decided that any guy would never be good enough for you or their time. “6 pints please.”

“That’s a lot of pints for a small thing like you.” You hadn’t even looked at the bartender, but his voice seemed to pull you out of a trance. You quickly realised how good-looking he was. He was roughly in his late 20s, dirty blonde hair and kind brown eyes. He was charming in some sort of way and he had even kinder smile. Shit, you were still staring. He must think I’ve got something wrong with me. 

“I wish they were, but I’m pretty sure you’d have to roll me out of here if I even attempted to down all six.” He laughed and started pouring out glasses, locking eyes with you every so often. “So are you new? I haven’t seen you around here before.” God, you were cringing so bad. You knew you were a bit rusty but this ‘flirting’ was just a shit-show.

“Kinda, some of my relatives live down here but I don’t live too far either. I take it you’re local?”

“Sadly, yes. Hopefully I can get out soon if my job picks up.” You were hopeful, but it was the truth. Although you loved Shields, you didn’t wanna stay here forever. 

“It’s not too bad around here, where would you wanna go, when you do get out?”

“I’ve not thought that far ahead yet, maybe down South or maybe even somewhere else in Europe.”

“I’ll have to tag along if you don’t mind.” He folded his arms across the bar and leaned down to your eye level. God, talking to this guy was so easy, you could stare into those eyes for hours. You hadn’t even realised that he’d poured all six drinks! 

“Sure, I could use the company.” You played along, silently hoping he’d take you up on the offer. 

“Isn’t your boyfriend good company then?” 

“My boyfriend?!” You gave him an unsure glance, you were certain that you were single. 

“Yeah, the guy giving me the evils.” You turned to look. “Don’t look!” He lightly grabbed your arm stopping you from turning. “God, don’t make it too obvious”, he laughed. “The guy in the white-shirt sat with you and your friends, blondish hair?”

“Ohhhhh, that’s Sam”, you laughed. “We’re not together.” 

“He’s been giving me the evils ever since you strutted on over, I took a guess thought you and him were a thing or something.”

You snorted, “Sam basically hates me, he treats me like shit or ignores me half the time.”

“Trust me, coming from a guy, he’s definitely feeling something other than hate for you.” 

“And trust me, knowing Sam for nearly 10 years, basically makes him my brother.” You couldn’t put anymore emphasis on that, you and Sam were not a thing. Period. 

“Well if you’re adamant that there’s nothing going on between you, I’d love to take your number?” You blushed but willingly took the guys phone and dialled in your number. 

“Y/n by the way.”

“Archie, lovely to meet you y/n.” He smiled and you and you smiled back effortlessly. God, his smile really was something. 

“You too, now I’d better get back to my friends before they start screaming for their beer.” You walked on ever to the group, careful not to spill the drinks. 

“Oi oi, look at you gettin’ ya flirt on”, Dean whistled. You blushed again, knowing full well that Archie could hear. 

“See told ya guys fancied you, you just can’t see it half the time.” You instantly thought back to Sam and glanced in his direction. Sure enough, he was sulking as usual. 

“I’m going for a ciggy”, Sam announced, and with that he stood up and stalked on outside- ruining the mood once more. 

“Think I might join him”, Drew said and quickly left after him. You shrugged and sat down next to Dean once more. Dean started talking about the good old days, laughing about the stupid things you guys did when you were young. 

“Remember that one time you hit by the swing playing chicken, and Sam felt so bad he pedalled home to go get you a plaster.”

“Omg and by the time he got back, I had stopped crying and we had started a new round.” 

“He was so mad, I remember he wanted you to sit out to rest your “injured” knee. It was literally the smallest cut ever!” You both laughed at the memory. You remembered that you had argued with Sam that day, you refused to sit and watch whilst the boys had all the fun. “I miss those days man”, Dean continued, “when we didn’t have to worry about anything other than going to the park after school.”

“Yeah but you enjoy tour life right? You’re travelling, meeting new people. I’m sure you got girls throwing themselves at your feet as well.” 

“That’s one bonus, I get homesick though. Actually, Sam was saying how you should come with us when we go on tour next.”

“He did?!” The news took you by surprise. He wanted to spend time with you. 

“Yeah, he said you could be our own personal groupie”, Dean chuckled. You? A groupie for Sam? You loved there music, there was no doubt about it but you weren’t sure how you felt about him as a person. You’d known him for a while but you didn’t really KNOW him that well. He was a difficult person. 

“Yeah sounds good. I missed you guys whilst you were away.”

“We all missed you too, especially Sam. It was kind of annoying actually, he complained about you not being there with us A LOT”. God, Sam just seem to escape the conversation tonight. Everything just sounded so unlike him. It never acted like this around you, and he certainly hadn’t said anything nice about you to your face. It was definitely a shock. 

“Speaking of the buggers, I’m going to see what’s taking them so long.” You needed some air anyway, it was so stuffy inside. As you reached the door you heard a quiet a conversation. You wouldn’t usually snoop but you recognised the voices. It sounded like a very important conversation. Their voices were tense yet quiet, ensuring that no one would be able to hear. No one but you obviously. 

“Drew leave it. Nothings ever going to happen between us. We wouldn’t work. We’re two VERY different people who have VERY different lives.” Sam. You wondered who he was on about, was he seeing someone? Why did you care?

“Mate you’ve had a crush on her since we were 12. I know you still like her, and you can’t deny it.”

“Yeah and so what. We date. It goes wrong. It fucks up our whole gang. Things become awkward. The end. That’s what will happen. End of.”

“Well, you’ll never know until you try. All I’m saying is that you better man up quick, otherwise someones gonna beat you to it.”

 Wait, known since 12, fuck up whole gang, that only narrows it down to one person. Me, Sam likes me, you thought, and with that, you heard the boys stomping out their fags ready to re-enter the tavern and face you once more.

[beyoncesdragon]

title: a handsome distraction

→Pairing: Jimin x Female!Reader (Choi Yeonjun has a lil cameo but not really, just kinda)

→Summary: You hate math because you can’t do it and Jimin hates math because he can’t do you. 

→Warnings: just a few swear words, but other than that, you’re safe! It’s Fluff!! Except you have an allergic reaction whenever there is math involved, then I’d suggest you continue with precaution.

→Wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: Some Jimin fluff because I want a Park Jimin to annoy me during math class...but we cant always have what we wish for. Therefore we write it.  

Masterlist | BTS Masterlist 

You were having a hard time.

Harder than usually, and considering that you were currently doing math, that was alarming. Even more because it wasn’t even because of the subject you were being taught through another zoom class. It also wasn’t because your internet was lagging more than usually and now the video wasn’t always perfectly in sync with the audio. It wasn’t the fact that you hated math with a passion, and already gave up on the subject four years ago either.

The thing that was giving you a hard time was a lot more handsome than the bland equation you were trying to solve with the teacher. Or rather, you were watching her solve it whilst you just copied everything that appeared on the screen, not quite knowing why she decided to multiply this x with the other one or how in the hell she discovered a binominal in between this whole mess.

The thing that was distracting you also went by the name of Park Jimin, your boyfriend, talented singer, dancer, hardworking man and performer, song writer and fashion icon and current cause of the headache that was starting to form behind your temples.

“Jimin! Can you finally stop this?!” you hissed through your teeth, wiggling his foot off your lap before pulling the couch table a bit closer.

You were currently seated on the floor, back resting against the couch and all of your school stuff spread out around you. Your laptop was propped up on another stack of books because you had been too lazy to clear the whole table and there was a little pile, scribbled full with notes and terms and unsuccessful attempts of solving various mathematical problems. So far you had however only created new problems and instead of leaning something new, you felt like someone pressed the reboot button half way through the lesson without backing up the hardware.

Long story short: it was a mess and Jimin wasn’t helping at all.

“Jimin please! I’m trying to work here. I’m trying to pay attention for once.” Jimin just snickered, flopping down on the couch behind you.

“You’ve been on it for hours now.” Well, that was the point of classes, wasn’t it. Not that Jimin could relate anymore, since he already graduated (a thing he wouldn’t dream of letting you forget). “You’re shamelessly exaggerating again. It has not even been one and a half hour and you spent the first forty minutes sleeping anyways.” Jimin just shrugged, propping his face up on his hands, curiously peeking from behind you onto the screen. He reminded you of a curious cat and you had to hold back a smile (a calico cat, perhaps?). However, since the two of you had been ordered to keep the relationship as low key as possible, you couldn’t just let him do that. As cute as he might looked with his ruffled hair and baggy clothes.

“Get out of the frame, they will see you.” he huffed, flicking your nose before tossing around again and sitting up. “I bet I was the most interesting thing they got to see in those six hours you’re ignoring me now.” You groaned, attempting to throw a pen at him.

“I’m done in twenty five minutes Jimin. Can you please…”

“Are there any questions so far?” the voice of your teacher cut you off and you snapped back to the screen. It seemed like all eyes were on you (though you obviously couldn’t tell) and you felt the tinge of embarrassment tickling your cheeks. You shook your head and went back to taking notes.

In the meantime, Jimin took it upon himself to be as noisy as possible whilst preparing a cup of tea. He slammed the cupboard door shut with way to much force, banged the cup against the counter dangerously hard and had a dirty grin on his lips when you flinched.

“Jagi, where did you put the tealeaves again?” he then suddenly yelled, though there was no need to yell, you literally had an open kitchen and were in direct sight. You flinched again, looking up at him with a frown. “Bottom left drawer, like always. What are you even talking about.” All that could be heard was a chuckle. It took him exactly half an equation later to interrupt you again.

“Can you hold my cup please, I don’t want it to tip over.” You stared at him blankly. “Seriously Jimin?” He shrugged. “That, or watch the love of your life burn his fingers off.” You shook your head. “Or the love of my life finally gets a grip on himself and gets a proper kettle like every normal human being would. He just grinned smugly before shrugging it off. You twirled your pen in your hand, reaching for the laptop to unmute yourself and ask a question, when…

“Where is the honey again?” you huffed frustrated, sitting back. “Left, top shelf. Jesus Christ…no left…Jimin, left.” You repeated, taking your eyes from the screen completely.

“Miss Y/L/N is there something you would like to ask?” you cringed at the call and quickly unmuted yourself to reassure your teacher that everything was fine, when Jimin took it upon himself to answer for you.

“AH thank you Jagi, you’re too kind…is your math thing finally over? That one equation is taking you guys ages.” your eyes widened before you quickly mumbled an apology and muted your audio again. Over the rim of your screen you sent a Jimin a glare that made him choke up on his tea.

It however failed to prevent him from walking over and sitting next to you, clearly holding back his laughter. He reached out for your hand and pressed a quick kiss on your knuckles.

“Sorry Jagi. I miss you.” you just shook your head, eyes trained on the screen. “I figured Jimin.” That was all you said before pressing your lips back together. You could only hope the professor hadn’t picked up on what Jimin had been implying and wasn’t hurt. Goddess, this was so embarrassing and this little shit knew it.

“You know…it’s just because I don’t have many free days like this, therefore it just sucks to have you occupied the whole time if there is one…” you sighed deeply, shaking your head. “I said twenty five minutes Jimin.”

He managed to sit still for maybe five. Then he started to play with your unoccupied hand again, before he suddenly dipped down and settled his head on your thigh. “Can I?” you looked down on him eyebrows slightly risen. “Lay on my thighs? Sure, but don’t pull any stunts or you sleep on the couch tonight.” Jimin laughed quietly, innocently peeking up at you. “I would never. And if I would, I’m sure you would enjoy it anyways. You always do.” You left that uncommented and only briefly pressed your index finger against his lips. “Shush  Jimin.”

After just a few minutes you had your hands in his hair already, absentmindedly playing with a few strands. He sighed happily before starting to draw little circles against your hip, humming quietly.

“You must be the most noisy rice cake there is.” Was all you pushed out before dramatically flying backwards against the couch Jimin gasped in fake outrage. The call finally ended and you felt like someone had fried your brain and your nerves in those two periods. Jimin sat up instantly, grabbing his now empty tea cup, before strolling towards the kitchen.

“Yah, no need to get personal. At least I don’t suck at math.” He retorted with a cocky expression, and this time you threw the pen for real.

“Wow, but you tell me not to get personal?” You stretched your body with a yawn before giving him a firm look. “You know what? I in this case I liked TXT’s performance better than yours.” It was completely off topic, but you needed something to bug him with. After those two painful lessons of math and Jimin you felt like you deserved that. And, it worked.

“Wait what? Which one?”

“MMA.” Jimin almost tripped over his own feet. “I beg you pardon? Better than our MMA Show? 2019? Are we on the same page?” You had troubles holding back your laughter at his obvious outrage. With a coy wink into his direction, you confirmed.

“Why so surprised? Yeonjun can rap…and also he has super pretty lips.” You shrugged, a lazy grin appearing on your lips. “You like his lips? He is too young for you!”

“You’re only four years older, dumbass.” with those words you got up and walked towards the kitchen as well. As you passed him, you placed a firm smack on the dancers butt before reaching for a cup to fetch yourself a cup of tea too.

Jimin had his arms crossed over his chest, a frown etched on his face as he watched you wordlessly, a mixture of disbelieve and outrage on his face.

“Are you sulking now?” you asked, turning around to him whilst the tea was steeping.

“Can you seriously blame me? You just admitted to like a guy that started as a rookie when I already debuted for a whole year…” you rolled your eyes. “Jimin!” but he wasn’t done just yet. “And you said I can’t rap!” you gave him a pointed look, turning to stir your tea for a second.

“I never said that, I know you can.” Jimin just shook his head.

“You said that he can rap, as in; other than you, he can rap.” He pouted like a little kid and you were having a hard time taking him serious. He just looked a tad too cute and too cuddly in that oversized shirt of his. “Oh my god Jimin…”

He turned on his heel with a dramatic flip of hair and strutted away towards the living room area. You heard him mumble to himself in annoyance as he approached your laptop, opening the device with a quick motion.

“What was your password again?” he asked, not even looking up. “It’s the date of your debut…”

“In letters or numbers?”

“Numbers.” He just nodded, a firm scowl on his face. “I’m almost surprised it isn’t TXT’s debut date.” He remarked sassily, unlocking your laptop with a pointed click of his index finger. You only shook your head, grabbed your mug and walked over to him. “Damn, you really are going there, hm?”

“What? You started it. Freaking Yeonjun out of all people…I will hit him when I see him again.” You chortled at his response, shaking your head. “Would you rather have me gushing over Yoongi?” he immediately shook his head.

“No that would be weird…wait do you mean Yoongi is cute?” a new wave of outrage shook that tiny body as he whipped around to look at you.

“Do you not think that?” he halted for a second, tilting his head. “Well obviously I do, but I am not my girlfriend.” You couldn’t only laugh at that. “Are you not? Wouldn’t have figured that out.”

“And on top of all of that, you said that they had a better MMA Performance than we had! Speaking of, ours wasn’t just a performance, we blessed you with an entire experience. How can you even compare that.” You giggled helplessly at your enraged boyfriend, opening your arms for a hug.

“Relax, baby. I was only joking.” He huffed in response, turning away dramatically. “No can do. I can’t believe I’ve been backstabbed like that. By my own girlfriend.”

He had clicked on their performance video with so much vigour it made you laugh even harder. Especially because their own performance was recommended to play right after TXT and he hesitated not even half a second before adding it to the queue.

“If you mention anything about Yeonjun’s lips, I will skip all of his parts and we go straight to our show, I’m not even kidding.” You giggled only, pressing your lips against his cheek. “Jealous Jiminie never fails to make me laugh. This group debuted in march of 2019 the same year. They weren’t even a year old and still performed like this, that’s all I’m gushing about, basically.”

And with that you pressed the play button and started the video. You actually expected Jimin to wrap his arms around you any second, but the man was still a moping mess and refused to even spare you a glance. With a sigh you decided to take matters into your own hands and leaned against him.

“Jimin.” No response.

“Baby. Look at me.” For a second it looked like he would ignore you once again. Just when you debated about calling him again or just cuddle him instead, he turned his head into your direction. You couldn’t help the small smile that immediately appeared on your face.

“You’re still the prettiest man on earth Jimin. Don’t worry, I could never look at anyone else than you. This includes your lips, by the way.” He hummed, acting as if all of this wouldn’t even affect him the slightest.

“I know.”

You burst out laughing. “You do now? So will you stop sulking?” He shrugged only, giving you a sly side-eye. “Only if you admit that you did drool when you watched our performance because up to this point, I have not heard a confession coming from your lips.” You huffed unfazed, shaking your head.

“Park Jimin, you are too cocky for your own good.”

“I’m just right sweetheart. Very unlike that equation you just solved…might want to look over that again.”

“Oh will you shut up!”

— ✩ thank u for reading ✩ —

[dirt-cup-draco]

George x Reader- Don’t Judge a Book

Heyy hope you're doing well 💕 Could u pleease (if you're not too overloaded) do one with George were his family doesn't approve his relationship with the reader but at the battle she saves Fred. Very angst and the end is up to you. Your writing is incredible, be safe

George pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long and steadying breath as you stood before him. Your hands were planted firmly on your hips and you were shaking your head in frustration. 

“I can’t George, you know that,” You refused his proposal, knowing it would only end terribly. You would be made a fool of and you had a hard enough biting your tongue as was. If you couldn’t escape, who knows what you might say. 

“It’s the safest option here love,” George pleaded with you, legs spread and head thrown back as the conversation tired him out. He had just closed up shop for the night with Fred and now he was upstairs, trying to talk sense into you. “Mum said it was perfectly fine if you came and stayed with us,” 

“Molly is lovely but I cannot be under the same roof as your brothers and sister.”

“Fred-” 

“You know he doesn’t count when I generalize,” You sighed, wishing George would see things from your perspective. “The rest of them hate me, I’m just a no good slytherin to them and they will never be able to see past that. Especially right now, I’m going to be put under a microscope that has a broken lens.” 

“They don’t hate you...” George weakly argued but you could see the gears turning in his head as he ran his fingers through his hair- pulling at the roots as if it would somehow make this conversation go away. “Things might be a bit touch and go but they don’t hate you, they could never hate someone I love,” 

“Your mom could never hate someone you love but that means nothing for the rest of them. To the public all slytherins are death eaters, Voldemort’s army consists of only slytherins in their eyes. I might as well have a stamp on my forehead that says ‘Hi! I want to enslave muggles and kill the kids I grew up with!’. It doesn’t matter who I am or what I stand for, your siblings think I’m trouble,” 

George stood abruptly, needing to be close to you. Wrapping his arms around you, you melted in his embrace. He kissed the top of your head and you nuzzled closer against his chest. “I just want you to be safe, and I think home is a good place to be safe,” 

“I won’t stop you from going Georgie, but I think it’s better if I don’t stay at the burrow,” You decided for yourself. You wouldn’t be able to keep your sanity if you had to handle Percy asking you questions about your family, who they were and what they believed in. You’d go just as crazy if you had to feel Ginny and Ron’s eyes burrowing into your head as if they could kill you with a look. 

“I won’t go either,” George tried steeling his voice but you could hear the hesitancy. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you,” 

--

Voldemort and his army surrounded Hogwarts as they all tried to bring down the protective shield that had fallen around the school. You jumped when a particularly powerful spell ricocheted off the invisible barrier. George’s arm tightened around you and you squeezed him in response. 

I’m scared. You tried to convey as you looked to him with wide and wondering eyes. You had to memorize every freckle, every wrinkle. You had to memorize the color of his eyes and the way his hair went every which way. In case something happened, you wanted to die remembering every feature of George Weasley, you wanted to die remembering how he made you feel. 

Me too. His sad expression spoke back to you and he kissed your forehead, lingering there. In case anything happened he needed you to know that he loved you and would love you forever until the end of time. Even death couldn’t put an end to his feelings for you. 

“See you both on the other side,” Fred spoke, subdued yet intense. 

I hope.

--

Your eyes burned with exhaustion and the constant threat of tears as you looked at the people you had known and loved falling down around you. The carnage and destruction seemed endless as you wildly searched for George. You had been planning to stay close but it was hard to stick to a plan during a time of war and you had inevitably been separated.  You had to stay strong and find him. 

You caught a flash of red hair in the distance and you picked up your pace, jumping over debris and dodging spells. You nearly fell when a spell was sent your way and you had to stop in your tracks and duck behind a large piece of wall that had been blown free from the castle. 

Poking your head out from the stone shield you had found cover behind you were relieved to see that the Weasley was still in place. You couldn’t quite see who it was yet but any of them would bring you comfort at this point. You’d even let Ron pick a fight with you so long as it made you feel normal.

Once the coast was clear you were back to running through the grounds that had once been so peaceful. The closer you got, the more you assumed it was George that stood back against the wall, wand at the ready. Yet you realized a moment later that it was Fred. The part of his hair was different, they set of his jaw and the way he held his wand. You felt relief at the sight of your boyfriend’s twin but it quickly vanished from your system and you were choked out by dread. 

“Fred!” You hollered, your legs carrying you faster than they ever had before. 

Ginny was some odd yards away and she watched with suspicion as you chased after her brother. “Fred! Watch out!” She called, wand at the ready as she took aim towards you. The light burst from the tip of her wand but the spell was unsuccessful as you jumped, propelling yourself forward to avoid the spell and reach Fred in time. 

 The man whipped his head around at the chorus of his name, a question on his lips as you collided with him, sending you both sprawling across the pavement as you wrapped your arms around Fred, the momentum sending him on top of you. An explosion burst above the both of you, pebbles and rocks raining down on you as you rolled away from the majority of the wall that had broken apart. 

The back of your skull came in contact with the cobble and you had to blink away the shadows that were rushing into your vision. Fred’s weight was uncomfortable on top of you and you groaned, shoving at him weakly. 

“God Freddie, lay off the chocolate frogs,” You jested at the same time he uttered, “You’re bleeding,” 

Fred helped you into a sitting position, his fingers searching the back of your head, coming away wet with the crimson liquid. You felt maybe a little dizzy, somewhat nauseous but fine otherwise. It was the sight of blood however, the knowledge that it was yours, that sent your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you slumped into Fred’s waiting arms. 

--

The battle had ended and George was rushing around like a chicken with their head cut off. He hadn’t seen you or any of his family members in some time and panic had a vise grip on his heart. Ginny and his mother were the first he saw, waiting at the entrance to the school with dazed expressions. It was difficult to process what they had just been through, what they had achieved and what they had lost. 

Ginny looked at George with guilt swirling in her stomach even if he didn’t recognize it. She feared how he would feel about her if he were to learn she had nearly cost Fred and Y/N their lives because of a prejudice that ran deeper than she had believed. If her spell had hit Y/N, they would both be crushed underneath a slab of wall right now. He couldn’t know. 

George looked them over quickly as he approached and deemed them fine. “Where is she?” Was the first question falling from his lips and Ginny couldn’t seem to get the words out. Molly however was thinking quickly, unaware of her daughter’s thoughts. 

“Your brother- Freddie knows where she is love, they were together,” 

George nodded, kissing her temple and pulling Ginny into a quick hug before he followed his mother’s directions to find you. His stomach churned when he found those directions had sent his feet to the area where the wounded were being attended to, the dead being covered in white sheets. 

“Are you wounded?” Came a meek voice and George had to shake himself from his intrusive thoughts to realize that Luna Lovegood was standing before him, hair tied up and a focused look hardening her typically whimsical features. 

“N-No, I’m looking for-” 

“Your brother is this way,” She assumed as she took a hold of his arm, assuming he needed the assistance. George looked a little lost and he had paled severely since entering the room, taking in all of the moaning and groaning bodies. 

He let her guide him but broke free when he found his brother sitting on the floor, your hand in his. You were on a makeshift cot, a bandage wrapped around your head. Your eyes were closed, skin ashen. “Y/N-” He choked out, falling to his knees beside you. Fred gripped his shoulder with his free hand, sliding out of the way so that George could grasp your limp hand in his own.

“She’s fine mate,” Fred said first. “Bumped her head, just needs rest now that the bleeding’s stopped.” 

“Bleeding?” George croaked, careful hands shaking as he trailed a finger across the outline of your jaw. Even now you looked angelic, with debris stuck to the palm of your hands and dust smeared across your forehead like your very own war paint. 

“She’s fine George,” Fred promised again. 

“How did she get hurt?” George asked, tearing his eyes from you to face his twin.

Fred winced, shoulders drawn up to his ears apologetically. “Savin’ me. I didn’t notice- well I don’t really know what I didn’t notice. Y/N called out my name, then Ginny. Then Y/N was barreling into me and we hit the ground hard. A second later the wall was collapsing onto where I’d been standing,” 

George smiled, kissing your forehead as his family spotted all of you, approaching with relieved smiles. “That’s my girl,” He praised. 

“Fred!” Ginny found her voice. “Is she okay?” 

Fred watched Ginny for a moment, putting together quite easily what had happened. He’d never liked slytherins, detested them the same as any good gryffindor did. But then George had introduced you to him and his feelings had started changing. It didn’t seem the same thing had occurred with his siblings and they still had their beliefs against you. Ginny had thought him in danger, thought you had come to hurt him when in fact it had been the opposite. He could see the guilt swimming in her eyes and he felt pity. He couldn’t let his sister hold that weight over her head. “She will be,” He reassured. 

George recounted the story of your heroics to his family even if he hadn’t been there and he hoped it would be enough to win your good favor. He refused to leave your side as you lay there, unaware that all of the Weasleys were standing around you and silently thanking you for saving Fred even at the threat of risking your own safety. You had proven a lot to them. George wished it hadn’t come with such a risk, he would always hold your safety above his family’s approval, but he tried to focus on the fact that you were just unconscious. You were just resting, he told himself as the thought was more comforting than the former.

Fred looked from his brother, then to you, and back to Ginny. “Everything’s alright, Gin,” He made sure she knew as he drew her into a hug, staring over her shoulder as he watched his brother fuss over you. “Just...don’t judge a book by it’s cover next time,”

For years to come you would be celebrated as Fred’s savior and loved as family, George having asked you to marry him the second you opened your eyes, still surrounded by the ruins of Hogwarts. Seeing his family surrounding you, a new appreciation in their eyes, you’d said yes. 

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary

[nayutai]

⇢ Pairing Nakamoto Yuta x Female OC

⇢ Genre fluff, smut

⇢ Word Count 18.210

⇢ Warnings cursing, name calling, OC is a bitch, mutual pining, they are both dumb, semipublic sex, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, yuta

Yasirah hums along to the Khalid song playing in her headphones as she leisurely makes her way to the student center. She makes a pit stop in the coffee shop on the first floor for a smoothie before finally stepping into the elevator. A wicked grin crosses her lips when she glances at her watch for the time. It’s 3:15 which means she’s officially fifteen minutes late for the SGA meeting which is a direct violation of the president’s rules. 

Her steps are light as she dances towards the meeting room reserved for the meeting. The thought of pissing off the seemingly unflappable SGA president Yuta has her buzzing with joy. No matter what goes wrong or how badly someone fucks up the man always takes it with a smile and comes up with a solution. It irritates her to no end so she’s made it the focus of her SGA career to shake him up. So far, she’s been unsuccessful but Yasirah has a good feeling about today. As Secretary, the meeting cannot start without her lest someone else pull out their laptops to keep minutes, but considering the rest of the governing body are either lazy as fuck or not allowed to take minutes because of their position; that will never happen.

She swings the conference room door open with a flourish to make her grand entrance, but she’s greatly disappointed to discover that the room is empty save for Yuta who is writing something on the whiteboard. Her watch says it’s now 3:17 which means everyone should be impatiently waiting for her arrival so that the meeting can start. There should be political unrest. There should be yelling. But no, it’s just Yuta with that insufferable smile on his face.

“Where the hell is everyone?” She grumbles, tapping on one of her wireless headphones to turn her music off and narrowing her eyes at her fellow executive board member. Even Seokjin, the university staff member tasked with babysitting them, is absent. The man hardly ever gives them a second glance but he’s annoyingly punctual. 

“I can see someone hasn’t checked the group chat.” Yuta sing songs, his trademark wide smile firmly in place. Yasirah is a flurry of movement as she struggles to dig her phone out of her bra. The rubbery material of her phone case decides that now is a great time to stick to her skin and she nearly drops her smoothie in the process.

Much to her dismay, she sees a message from Yuta from nearly an hour ago saying that today's meeting had been pushed back to 3:30 to ensure quorum due to several of the members being roped in last minute to speak at an admissions event. Yasirah wants to scream. Once again her efforts to piss off the smiling bitch in front of her have been foiled and it’s her own fault. She wants to launch herself right of one of the bay windows that line one wall of the conference room. 

“Have you been having a good day so far, Yasirah?” Yuta asks in an effort to strike up a conversation. He hates the way the silence in the room feels like it’s sucking all of the oxygen out of the air or maybe that’s just the results of his secretary brooding in the corner. Even when she’s sulking, she still looks beautiful and he’s irritated by the fact that he’s so aware of it.

“Talking to me before this meeting starts is in fact a hate crime. Make it stop.” She responds without even looking up from her cellphone. Yuta rolls his eyes because really he should’ve expected such a response from her, but he’s nothing if not persistent. 

“Did you hear that Coach K is leaving at the end of the season? Apparently he’s going to State which is-” His second attempt at conversation is interrupted by Yasirah dramatically dropping her head onto the table. He winces at the noise. No way that one didn’t hurt.

“You can stop pretending to be nice, Yuta. There’s no one here to praise you for being the golden boy.” She’s glaring at him like he’s a professor that just issued a ten page paper due in the middle of spring break. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why she hates him so much when he’s been nothing but nice to her. He sighs deeply and resigns himself to sitting in silence until the rest of the board shows up.

Yuta nearly collapses with relief  when the treasurer Khushi drags himself into the conference room. He always looks like he’s tired, high, or a combination of both, but he can do math problems in his head that it would take most people three years to figure out with a calculator without batting an eyelash. He offers him a nonchalant head nod as a greeting as he rests his longboard against the wall by the door before taking his unassigned assigned seat at the seat closest to the door.

“Kush, you look more tired than normal. You good?” Yuta questions with genuine concern for his friend. 

“Life is tiring, my dude.” Khushi responds in that slow, deliberate cadence that he’s known for. He reaches behind him as he leans back as far as the chair will allow to stretch his back. “Rah, you got any snacks? I’m hungry.”

A small smile crosses Yuta’s face at the tinkling bell sound of Yasirah giggling as she digs around in her backpack for a snack to give Khushi. She makes a comment about how she packs extra snacks on meeting days just for him as she tosses him a pack of animal crackers. Yuta can’t help the pang of jealousy that he’s plagued with at that comment. To anyone else, Yasirah is the best friend someone could ask for. She may be snarky and dismissed but for those lucky enough to be in her good graces she’s unerringly loyal and caring. Yuta on the other hand doesn’t get to see that side of her at all. He may as well be public enemy number one. He’s never understood why but he’s not crazy enough to outright ask her and risk the full force of her wrath.

The rest of the executive board slowly filter in as it gets closer to 3:30. Yuta’s stomach turns as Yasirah and one of the senators Jaehyun make eyes at each other across the room when he walks in. It’s no secret that they hook up from time to time but God he wishes they could at least attempt to be more discreet about it.

“Roll call!” He yells to get everyone’s attention. He starts running through the roster to mark everyone as present on his spreadsheet. Everyone is present and accounted for with the exception of the senior class senator Taeyong who is at an RA training.

Everything is going smoothly until they get to the last funding request in the pile that they need to get through before next week’s general body meeting. It’s incomplete. The responses are incredibly vague. The paperwork even has suspicious stains on it. Anybody can tell that the fraternity who submitted the application just wants to try and cash in on the generous reputation that SGA has developed since Yuta became president. It’s irritating to say the least that organizations are trying to advantage of his desire to help as many students as possible. SGA is loaded and yet previous presidents before him had always been very tight fisted with giving out funds and now he’s starting to see why.

“I don’t even think this one needs much discussion. On principle it’s eligible for nothing but rejection.” He passes the paperwork to Mark send around the table with a look of disdain on his face. Ever observant, Yasirah zones in on his visible irritation like a heat-seeking missile. This is her chance to prove that the man who never utters a cross word at anyone isn’t as nice as he would like everyone to believe.

“Aw, are you upset Mr. President? Did those naughty frat boys hurt your feelings?” She asks mockingly. Yuta can tell by the look on her face that she’s looking for a reaction and he’s trying his hardest not to give her one but it seems like every day she comes closer and closer to pushing him too far. 

“Yasirah, stop being a bitch for two seconds.” Normani speaks up from her spot next to Yuta’s antagonizer. As her best friend, Normani can get away with talking to her like that and he’s never been more thankful for the fact that she takes full advantage of that ability.

The half assed proposal is swiftly rejected just as Yuta had said it should be a few minutes later with a promise from resident frat boys Jaehyun and Johnny to antagonize the offending fraternity for wasting their time. With nothing else on the agenda for the board meeting, Yuta calls it to a close.

“Yuta, are you going to the Sigma party?” He looks over at Normani as he stuffs his laptop back into his bag. He’d heard that they’d be having a party tonight but he really hadn’t put much thought into whether or not he would go. Partying really isn’t his thing but he liked to show his face at one from time to time just to say he did.

“Mr. Goody Two Shoes? Going to a Sigma function? Yeah I’ll believe that when I see it.” Yasirah pipes up as she waits for Normani by the door. She’s smirking devilishly and not for the first time Yuta gets the urge to tell her to fuck off but that’s not how he does things. He grits his teeth and turns back to face Normani.

“Text me the address. I’ll be there.”

Yuta drops his bag onto his bedroom floor, face planting onto his mattress the second he’s in range. He can’t believe that he let Yasirah get under his skin enough that he’s actually committed to going to frat party on a Thursday night. He has an eight am math class tomorrow which is already hell to wake up for with a full night’s sleep. He kicks his legs like a child as he thinks about the hell he’s going to go through tomorrow.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Yuta sits up to face his roommate. Johnny is leaned against the door frame stuffing his mouth full of the cereal that Taeyong, who also lives with them, has specifically said is off limits. 

“I’m going to the Sigma party tonight.” Yuta cringes at the sound of the words as they leave his mouth. Part of him wants to play sick and tell Normani he can’t go but he’s nothing if not a man of his word. Plus he really doesn’t need her ragging him about this for the rest of the semester because that is exactly what she’ll do. 

“Why the hell would you do that?” Johnny stops stuffing cereal in his mouth, deciding that his do no evil roommate going to a fraternity rager is infinitely more interesting. “You hate parties.” Yuta groans in response. 

“I still hate parties, but Yasirah-” Johnny cuts him off by nearly choking to death on his own spit. Yuta firmly claps his friend on the back until his breathing returns to normal.

“Are you telling me that you let Yasirah bully you into going to a party?” Ashamed, Yuta simply nods. He picks at a stray strand on his comforter as the room falls silent. The sound of Johnny tapping away at his phone is deafening.

“You know what this means right?” Johnny shoves his phone back into his pocket and goes back to his cereal. He looks like he knows something that Yuta doesn’t and it’s unsettling Yuta’s spirit.

“That I’m probably gonna be late to Stats in the morning? That I’m going to hate my life just as much as Yasirah hates me.” Yuta is confused at the way Johnny rolls his eyes. What conclusion is he drawing that Yuta missed? He can’t think of anything else that he could possibly be getting at.

“Yasirah hates a lot people but you are definitely not one of them.” Johnny goes on a rant about women being complex creatures with simple desires and misplaced sexual tension. None of it means anything to Yuta. All he knows is that he can feel the barbs digging into his skin every time she speaks to him. Sure, he’s a mostly heterosexual man with eyes and isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s thought about what it would be like to sleep with Yasirah. She’s a bombshell in every sense of the work and fantastic in bed if Jaehyun is to be believed, but degradation is not and never has been something that got him off.

“I don’t believe that but I need to take a nap before this party so I don’t have time to argue with you on why you’re wrong.”

“You’d lose anyway. I told Andre that I’d help buy alcohol so I’ll see you at the party later.” 

Johnny leaves with very little fanfare but his words are still ringing in Yuta’s head long after he’s gone. His dick hopes that Johnny knows what he’s talking about but the logical side of him knows that testing his theory won’t lead to anything good. Yasirah Coleman might tick off all of the boxes he looks for in a partner, but the headache just isn’t worth it.

The modest brick house is practically vibrating as Normani all but drags Yuta towards the front door. She exchanges a few pleasantries with the twins Andre and Dante who have been tasked with manning the door while Yuta pays his door fee. 

“Aight y’all have fun and remember Hennything goes tonight.”

The only lights on in the whole house appear to be the ones in the kitchen and a few random strobe lights in the otherwise dark living room. Normani resumes her dragging as she pulls Yuta along to the kitchen. Neither one of them is surprised to find Jaehyun and Taeil setting up a game of beer pong on the spacious kitchen island. A chorus of yells erupts from the two SGA members when they spot Yuta and Normani. She lets him go in favor of pouring them both healthy servings of the seemingly unlimited Hennessy. 

“I thought Rah was just bullshitting when she said you were coming tonight.” Taeil giggles as he finishes the rest of what is obviously not his first drink. His eyes are glassy and dancing with inebriated joy. Normani disappears when she spots a few of her sorority sisters, leaving Yuta to watch the beer pong game progress as he slowly sips on his drink.

“Dude, you know this means we both owe her $30 right?” Jaehyun reminds him right before he sinks a ping pong ball into one of Taeil’s cups. Yuta can’t believe that his friends actually made bets against him, but then again he can’t really blame them either. “And you know Rah doesn’t fuck around when it comes to her money. She’s worse than Kush.”

“Fucking hell.” Taeil grumbles at the thought of having to actually give up his money. He quickly chugs the alcohol in and tosses the empty cup over his shoulder. Despite his intoxication, he easily returns the favor, sinking the ball into a cup on Jaehyun’s side of the island. 

Despite his drunkenness, Taeil makes quick work of Jaehyun who, true to his competitive nature, demands a rematch. Khushi seemingly appears out of nowhere and before Yuta can talk himself out of it he finds himself teamed up with Khushi against Taeil and Jaehyun. He’s definitely going to need more alcohol.

“Whee! Come on it’s time to go.” Yasirah types out a text to Normani as she waits for their other roommate Wheein to hurry up with whatever the hell it is she’s doing. She can hear her moving around in the kitchen followed by the sound of her gagging. Concerned, Yasirah runs to check on her friend. She finds her holding on to the refrigerator door handle for dear life with one hand while a fifth of vodka is clutched in the other. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened here.

“For fucks sake Wheein we are literally going to a frat party called Hennything Goes. There no reason to pregame this hard.” Yasirah complains as she snatches the bottle away from the tiny sorority girl that she’s feeling the urge to throttle right about now. 

“I hate Hennessy.” 

With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Yasirah drags Wheein out of the apartment so they can start walking towards the Sigma house. Their apartment is almost half a mile away from the party and yet they can still hear the faint thumping from the bass of whatever song is currently playing. She readjusts her bralette, giving herself a final once over in the reflection of a car parked near the house. They breeze inside and immediately join Normani on the dance floor and get sucked into the mass of bodies twerking to Big Ole Freak.

A bead of sweat runs down her temple when Yasirah extricates herself from the random dude she’d decided to dance with. Being packed in that tightly is only fun when you’re drunk and the vodka shots she’d done earlier are long gone. She navigates the through the crowd to what she’s guessing is the kitchen in search of the Hennessy that tonight’s function is based on.

The familiar sound of Jaehyun yelling rises above the music. Sure enough, she finds him in the kitchen playing beer pong with Taeil and Khushi. There’s a fourth person at the table but he’s got his back to her. Her stomach sinks to her ankles when the mystery man turns to face his opponents, allowing her to get a look at his side profile. He’s cackling maniacally and, judging from Taeil and Jaehyun’s sour expressions, his laughter is at their expense. He’s wearing a basic pair of black jeans that hug his legs just right and a matching black t-shirt. His hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it one too many times but for whatever satanic reason it looks great on him. In short, he looks hot as hell, but that’s not something Yasirah would like to dwell on right now or ever for that matter.

“You bitches are cheating.” Taeil points a finger at Khushi and Yuta. He barely spares Yasirah a glance when she sidles up to the kitchen island after pouring herself a drink to watch this all go down. Khushi launches into an impassioned speech on angles and velocity and a whole host of other math bullshit that flies way over everyone’s head. 

“Aht aht!” Jaehyun waves his arms around dramatically in his bid to make the math talk stop. “We get it, Kush. You’re stupid smart and we’re cavemen, but what’s your excuse?” His eyes are narrowed as he stares Yuta down. The man in question picks up a red solo cup to his left, swirling the alcohol around as he peers over the rim of the cup with a devilish look on his face. He downs the dark liquor without so much as a grimace.

“I’m just better than you.” He emphasizes his statement by sinking the ball in the last remaining cup in their court. Taeil looks like he’s on the verge of having a meltdown while Jaehyun is already firmly in meltdown territory.

Everyone is so focused on the children throwing tantrums that no one notices the fact that Yasirah’s eyes have yet to leave Yuta’s face. Something about the cocky way that he’d declared his superiority had sparked something in her. Then there was the way he’d teasingly poked his tongue out as he’d lined up his game winning shot. She’s never seen this side of him and to say she’s intrigued by it would be a gross understatement. A ball of warmth is stirring violently in her lower abdomen but it’s not from the alcohol. Yasirah is turned on in the worst way possible.

“I hate it here!” Taeil screams. Yasirah is in agreement with him on that one. She needs to get out of here and fast before she does something stupid like beg Yuta to bend her over the granite countertop.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” She whispers suggestively in Jaehyun’s ear. A loaded look at his crotch when she pulls back from him sends her intended message loud and clear. His childish anguish is replaced almost instantly with a look that promises a night of mind-numbing pleasure which is exactly what she needs. 

“Let’s go.” They both chug the last of their drinks before Jaehyun leads her out of the kitchen. If she’d given into the urge to turn around she’d have seen the curious look on Yuta’s face as he watched her leave with his friend.

Yuta’s alarm goes off promptly at 7:15 am and the mellow bells tone may as well be jackhammer going full throttle on his temples. He fervently wishes for death but somehow manages to drag himself out of bed. The night before is a blur. His gut is tossing wildly so breakfast is out of the question. The coffeepot is churning out liquid gold while he rests his head against the kitchen counter. He curses himself for allowing himself to be so weak as to give into Yasirah’s manipulative ways. Every day he tells himself that today is the day he grows a spine and tells her to fuck off but he just can’t do it. No matter how evil and conniving she is, he can’t bring himself to defend himself for her. Who knows maybe he’s a glutton for punishment with an overzealous dealer. Either way, he feels stuck.

Math is even more of a soul sucker than normal and, contrary to his normal pattern, Yuta is the first student to book it out of the classroom. God smiled down on him and gave his religious theory professor some weird stomach bug so he’s officially done for the day, leaving him free to sleep off the hangover that plagues him. Sunglasses in place, hood pulled low on his head, he starts the walk across campus to wait on the shuttle that’ll take him back to his apartment complex. 

“Yuta!” Any other day and he would’ve stopped to converse with whoever is yelling after him, but today is not any other day. He is in no mood to socialize today. In fact, he would rather walk off the roof of the student union. He keeps forging ahead as if he hadn’t heard them. Unfortunately for him, his stroke of good luck ended with his last class getting cancelled.

“Dammit Yuta didn’t you hear me calling you?” His eyes go wide when Yasirah yanks him around by the wrist to face. The shock quickly wears off as his expression sours. What could she possibly want with him.

“Yes, I heard you.” He shrugs her hand off of him but he doesn’t get much further down the sidewalk before she’s grabbing at him again. Yuta wants to scream, but that would only make the pounding in his head worse than it already is. 

“If you heard me, why didn’t you answer me?”

“Because I didn’t want to now if you’ll excuse me I have a bus to catch.” He walks away from her for the second and hopefully the last time. Hot, roiling anger blooms in his chest when she grabs his wrist again. This time, she doesn’t let go as she drags him along with her in the opposite direction of the bus stop.

“If you’re taking me somewhere to kill me just make it swift.” He pleads. His will to fight is long gone as he allows Yasirah to drag him behind her like a wagon.

“I’m not going to kill you, stupid. I’m taking you home. You look like shit on a stick.” Yuta nearly leaps out of his skin. The she-devil with an iron grip on his arm has never gone out of her to do anything for him that didn’t involve public humiliation and a heap of insults. She’s definitely going to kill him. Oh well, he’s lived a good life until now. 

She all but forces him into the passenger seat when they finally reach her car. He knew that she drove a BMW, a gift from her parents according to Normani,  but he’d never seen it for himself. The bucket seat hugs him like an old friend when he settles into it. If he had to stay in this spot for the rest of his life, he definitely wouldn’t complain. 

His eyes drift closed in an effort to compartmentalize the subtle throbbing that still plagues his temples. He’s doing his best not to fall asleep but apparently he fails because he’s awakened by Yasirah poking at his face. His hands move on their own accord in an attempt to make it stop so that he can settle back into his peaceful slumber.

“Oh thank God you’re not dead.” Yasirah continues her pestering until Yuta finally opens his eyes, turning his head to glare at her though the fact that his dark shades totally obscure his eyes makes it a lot less threatening than he probably intended. “Now get out of my car.”

He nearly trips to his death, but Yuta is out of her car faster than he thought was possible in his current state once he realizes they’re parked in front of his building. Moving that fast was a horrible idea as the headache he’s been nursing is now accompanied by dizziness. Her eyes follow him down the sidewalk a ways, watching him for a minute as he struggles to deal with the stairs. She has a small meltdown before yanking her keys from her ignition. Yuta protests her help at first but ultimately gives in to the steadying grip she has on his waist as she assists him to the door of his apartment.

Yasirah is praying that his apartment is empty when they reach it, but when Yuta hands her his key to unlock the door it’s clear that her prayers have gone unanswered. Three pairs of eyes turn to face the awkward pair as they stumble through the front door. 

“Are you useless twats just going to stare or are you going to help me?” She snaps as the three men on the couch simply continue watching some random hockey game.

“At your service, Your Highness.” Yasirah chooses to ignore Johnny’s sarcasm in favor of making a run for it while he and Taeyong take care of Yuta. Jaehyun has other plans. She stops with her hand on the door knob when she feels his hand on her forearm much like she’d done to Yuta earlier.

“What made you decide to bring Yuta home?” This is exactly what she was hoping to avoid. Jaehyun has a one track mind and once he’s got his mind on something he puts his all into it. Yasirah’s convinced that’s why he’s so good in bed.

“You saw him. I’m surprised he was even upright.” She attempts to draw on his human sensibilities, but she knew it wouldn’t work before the words even left her mouth. Jaehyun was one of her close friends before he ever stuck his dick in her. He knows her entirely too well to be fooled by some bullshit like that. He knows that she doesn’t give a

“And? Since when do you help people you don’t like?” Jaehyun questions in a tone that makes Yasirah nervous. It’s the same tone he uses when he knows something she doesn’t and it never ends well for her. They both know that the answer to his question is never but something tells her that he knows something else that he’s not saying.

“Bye, Jaehyun.” 

Yasirah hardly ever looks forward to SGA General Body meetings, but today seems to be an exception. She’s actually looking forward to listening to people begging for money to go to random conferences and trainings to get out of going to their classes. She blames her excitement on the fact that this is the only organization she’s involved in that Wheein and Normani are also apart of which means she might actually get to see them since they’ve both been busy with preparing for new members to join their respective sororities. However, if she’s really honest with herself, a certain president with impressive beer pong skills is the actual source of her anticipation. Yasirah hasn’t seen or spoken to him since she dropped him off at his apartment on Friday which isn’t out of the ordinary, but now it makes her feel weird.

She fiddles with one of the buttons on the SGA polo shirt they have to wear for meetings as she waits for her ham and swiss sandwich and chai tea at Starbucks. It’s taking a lot longer than she was expecting and part of her wants to leave to keep from being late for the meeting, but this is her only chance to get food until after the meeting. The general body meetings can last two hours depending on how many people show up and Yasirah knows that there’s no way she’ll last the whole meeting without snapping at someone in a hunger-driven rage. So she waits and waits some more. By the time she gets her food and sprints up the stairs, she’s on the cusp of being late. Normally she eats her food before going upstairs to the meeting but there just simply isn’t time for that today. She manages to slide into the room just as Seokjin is closing the door to start the meeting. The only available seat at the exec board table is right next to Yuta. Fantastic. 

He looks up at her from his seat when she approaches, nodding his head in acknowledgment. A snarky comment threatens to fly out of her mouth but she tamps it down at the last second, choosing to mumble hello instead. Yasirah hurriedly pulls her laptop out of her bag. They jump straight into the presentations with little preamble. She’s polishing off half of her sandwich in between presenters and reaches for the other half when the sound of a stomach growling on her left catches her attention. Yasirah side eyes Yuta who is acting like it wasn’t him but she knows better. Though she definitely wants it, Yasirah finds herself sliding the rest of her sandwich in Yuta’s direction. He attempts to push it back but she blocks him.

“Just eat it, Yuta.” She mumbles under her breath as she starts typing again. A strange sense of satisfaction flutters in her chest when she sees him take a bite out of the sandwich. Normani bumps Yasirah’s right knee with her own to get attention, pointedly looking between the sandwich in Yuta’s hands and her best friend. Yasirah waves her off but she knows that Normani isn’t going to let it go. 

It’s a struggle for Yasirah to keep her facial expression in check as the two students currently speaking struggle through their funding request. It’s clear that they’re winging it and she makes a note of that in her minutes to bring up at next week’s board meeting. Thankfully, they’re able to cut the slackers short as the even they need the money for is at the end of the week and therefore ineligible for SGA funding since the executive board won’t be able to meet to vote on their funding request before said event. The students protest loudly but rules are rules as Yuta firmly reminds them.

A couple more funding requests and a complaint about the snack selections in the on-campus convenience stores and Yasirah is booking it downstairs with Normani and Wheein. This is the one night that they’re able to get dinner together like normal and they plan to take full advantage. 

“So,” Normani starts, dragging the word out suspiciously. Yasirah was millimeters away from dunking her chicken nugget in her barbecue sauce but ceases all movement. “What’s going between you and Yuta?”

And there it is. Yasirah knew this was coming eventually and apparently so did Wheein who has pushed her french fries to the side as well. They’re both staring at her expectantly as if they’re waiting for her to spill her guts on something.

“Why would something be going on between me and Yuta?” Yasirah’s gazes flits between her friends as if she’s watching a tennis match. Wheein giggles like a cat that caught the canary while Normani still has that same smug look on her face. “Why are y’all staring at me?”

Wheein reveals that Taeyong told her about her dropping Yuta off at their apartment last Friday which they had deemed incredibly suspicious. Normani adds on the fact that Yasirah gave her sworn enemy half of her sandwich when previously the only people she’s shared food with is them and Khushi. Yasirah tries to argue her defense but gets shut down quickly.

“The math is just not mathing, my love.” Wheein taunts. She steals one of Yasirah’s chicken nuggets after realizing that she’s eaten all of hers. “I think you wanna ride him off into the sunset.”

“Oop! Can’t say I disagree with that one.” Normani chimes in.

“I don’t want to have sex with him. I have just come to realize that I may have been wrong about him and have decided that I don’t have to antagonize him.” Yasirah expects her declaration to end this conversation so they can move on to something else, but she should’ve known that wouldn’t be the case. Not with her messy ass friends.

“Yeah you totally wanna smash.” Normani and Wheein giggle incessantly at Normani’s crass deduction. Yasirah hates the both of them wholeheartedly and briefly contemplates leaving them in this McDonalds to find their own way back to their apartment. She won’t say it out loud but they’re dead on the mark with her wanting to ride Yuta like a mechanical bull. Damn their intuition.

If anyone were to be standing outside Yuta’s apartment, they would think someone was being brutally murdered inside. Johnny had decided that everyone needed “bro time” that didn’t involve the letters S, G, or A which someone how resulted in their living room becoming the venue for a Smash Bros showdown. Beer is flowing and the pizza is abundant as they all scream at the tv screen like banshees. Even Khushi, who is normally the calm before the storm that is everyone else, is hurling curse words left and right. Mark leaps from his spot on the couch to loudly proclaim his victory when he ultimately wins the match much to everyone’s dismay. This is his fourth win in a row.

“I hate you.” Yuta mumbles glaring in Mark’s direction but the younger boy is much too high off his win streak to care. He blows kisses at Yuta who flips him off in response.

“Somebody call Yasirah to put this little shit in his place. I need her to avenge me.” Taeil demands. Yasirah is widely known as the best Smash player on campus. She would absolutely throttle Mark and send his streak crashing and burning to the pits of hell. 

Yuta doubts that Yasirah even remembers but the first time they met was at a Smash tournament their dorm was having freshman year. He was in awe of her then and despite the years that have gone by that hasn’t changed a bit. She gives him hell every chance she gets and yet he can’t find it in himself to hate her despite numerous attempts to do exactly that.

“Speaking of Yasirah,” Taeyong starts, taking a pause to polish off the last of his beer. “has anyone noticed that she’s actually being nice to, Nakamoto?”

His question is met with a chorus of confused agreement as people start realizing that the normal barbs that Yasirah liked to hurl Yuta’s way are all but nonexistent these days. Jaehyun brings up the sandwich she’d shared with him at the last general body SGA meeting which leads to the rest of the guys pointing out things they’d noticed as well. Yuta sits in silence as he takes it all in. He’d noticed that she wasn’t as much of a bitch as she’s known to be, but her niceness still held a hard edge to it so he’d just assumed Normani’s threats had finally gotten through to Yasirah.

“I even called my mom to see if her and the WhatsApp aunties had seen any signs of the apocalypse starting.” Khushi mentions as he munches on the chips he snatched from Haechan a few minutes ago. 

“You all know why she’s doing this right?” Johnny questions with that same mischievous look he’d had on his face right before the Sigma party. Yuta automatically knows what he’s going to say and he’s already dreading the words about to come out of Johnny’s mouth. 

“She wants that Japanese monster cock.” Everyone with something in their mouths collectively chokes when Taeil steals Johnny’s thunder with his own assumptions. Johnny high fives him while the whole room except Yuta and Khushi dissolve into maniacal laughter. 

“You’re all a bunch of lying bastards.” Yuta mutters as he reaches to pull another beer from the yeti cooler by Mark’s feet. 

“And you,” Yuta pins Jaehyun down with what he hopes is a very menacing stare, but he’s four beers deep and not sure of its effectiveness at this point, “how can you be so cool with them thinking your girl wants to fuck me?”

“Yasirah is not my girl. We both just like to fuck.” Jaehyun responds casually. “And she definitely wants to fuck you.” 

Yuta vehemently disagrees with him which leads to another debate amongst the small crowd of horn dogs stuffed into the small apartment living room. Haechan points out that Khushi, who has been noticeably detached from the conversation, has known Yasirah the longest out of all of them and is therefore an expert on interpreting her actions. A point that Yuta decides that he can concede to. Everyone waits with bated breath as Khushi considers his words carefully.

“Whether or not Yasirah wants to have sex with Yuta is a moot point. She’s entirely too prideful and stubborn to ever initiate anything.” Khushi explains much. His attentive audience is more than disappointed and they make sure he knows it. 

“Fuck all that, am I right or not?” Johnny demands. The aquarius in him refusing to back down from the topic until he hears what he wants to hear. The room falls into silence once more as they all wait for Khushi to answer his question.

“You’re right but like I said she’ll never act on it unless Yuta makes the first move.” Yuta launches one of the many empty beer cans at Johnny’s head when the gloating giant throws Khushi’s confirmation back in his face. He should sleep with one eye open tonight. 

“All of you are lying sacks of shit and I’m going to prove it.” The gears in Yuta’s brain are already spinning as he comes up with a plan to confront Yasirah with this new information. Khushi may know her well but no one knows Ms. Yasirah Coleman better than the woman herself.

Yasirah nearly jumps out of her skin when her phone suddenly vibrates against her chest and brings her back to reality. It’s not the special vibration pattern she’d set for her parents so she hits ignore on the call and refocuses on the episode of Bones that has a strangle hold on her attention. Special Agent Seeley Booth leaps through a glass window at the Jeffersonian just as Yasirah’s phone vibrates once more. To say she’s irritated at this point would be an understatement. She pauses her tv show with a huff and answers the phone call without even glancing at the caller id to see who it is.

“Someone better be dying.” She mutters into the mouth piece. If the person on the other end has any sense then they will hang up and leave her be. Unfortunately for the both of them, said person is five vodka shots deep and all sense of self-preservation left on shot number three.

“Do you want to fuck me? All the guys say you do.” 

What the fuck?

Yasirah pulls her phone away from her ear and nearly chokes on her own spit when she sees Yuta’s name on the screen. There’s just no way in hell that he called her to ask her that. This is either one of Johnny and Jaehyun’s sick games or Yuta has stuck his head in a microwave. Either way someone will have to catch a fade for this.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Yasirah questions incredulously. Her tv show is all but forgotten as she struggles to maintain her composure. 

“No, it’s not. I’m just tired of them talking about it and I want to prove them wrong.” Yuta replies. Ice floods her veins at the fact that other people have actually noticed her subtly pining after her sworn enemy. Apparently, discretion isn’t one of her strong suits after all. She doesn’t realize that she’s fallen silent until Yuta calls her name to get her attention.

“So just tell me I’m right and they’re wrong because I’m drunk and I want to sleep now.”

“I can’t do that.” Yasirah whispers after a beat. She doesn’t know why she’s decided that now of all times to be completely honest with Yuta but the bell has been rung and there’s no going back now. 

The line falls silent once more as she waits for Yuta’s response. He’s quiet so long that she begins to think that he’s fallen asleep like he mentioned he wanted to do. Just as she about to hang up a bomb goes off in her ear. To say that Yuta is pissed off would be a gross understatement. Yasirah is so stunned by the sudden change in his demeanor that her brain seems to be short circuiting.

“You’ve made my life a living hell for two years and this whole time you just wanted some dick? Are you insane?” The anger in his voice is nearly palpable. She knows that he has every right to be angry with her so she simply lets him vent until he gets it all out. 

“In my defense,” Yasirah starts, “fucking you genuinely never crossed my mind until that night at the Sigma party. I realized that you’re not one of those boring Mary Jane try hards that’s overly nice to everyone.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I was so nice to you because I liked you?” Yuta sounds incredibly frustrated at the fact that he’s apparently been pining after her the entire time they’ve known each other despite the fact that she’s evil incarnate. Yasirah didn’t think it was possible to feel any lower than she already did but she was incorrect.

“Yuta…” Yasirah trails off. She wants to apologize for being so blind and bitchy but he doesn’t give her the chance to get her thoughts together. The beep of her phone notifying her that the call has been connected feels much too final.

Days pass and Yuta’s phone call is still weighing heavily on Yasirah’s mind. She’s tried to talk to him about it but each of her attempts have been shot down. He doesn’t want to talk to her any more than he has to and she’s not about to continue to push the issue. The stress of her caseload in conjunction with this boy drama is stressing her out in a major way. Normally, she’d call Jaehyun and blow off some steam with him but he has apparently decided to grow a moral compass at the absolutely worst time possible.

I don’t care what Yuta says. He’s still head over heels for you and now that I know that it would be against the bro code to fuck you.

Yasirah scoffs at the memory of how Jaehyun had rejected her “you up?” text. She got less than three hours of sleep that night and it’s clearly evident when she stalks into the SGA meeting room the next afternoon like a storm cloud in Nike running shorts. A scheduling mishap with the meeting space meant that this week’s general body meeting had to be pushed to Friday as opposed to it’s normal Tuesday. Since she only has one class on Friday mornings, the idea of spending her coveted free time listening to people bitch instead of catching on all of the hours of sleep she’s missed out on this week has Yasirah on edge.

She’s a full thirty minutes early for the meeting but taking up residence in Starbucks had quickly become boring since she had somehow managed to forget her headphones at home this morning. The sound of coffee machine whirring and students conversating was grating on her nerves, forcing her to retreat to the political science building. She’d been pleased to realize that not even Yuta had shown up yet; therefore, allowing her to finally have peace and quiet. It doesn’t last though.

Her quiet sanctuary is soon breached by no one than Mr. Nakamoto himself. He strolls in looking like freshly printed money and Yasirah finds herself wanting to slam his well-rested face into a wall. Yuta looks surprised to see her already in her seat but chooses to start preparing for the meeting as opposed to acknowledging her presence verbally. Or so she thought.

“Where’s your shirt?” He asks out of the blue. She looks up at him and stares blankly as her brain tries to comprehend what he just said to her. Yuta helps her out by gesturing to the SGA insignia embroidered on his polo that matches the one that Yasirah would be wearing as well if she hadn’t forgotten all about it until this very moment. She groans deeply at the thought of the shirt buried somewhere in the pile of laundry that Wheein had finally forced her to do yesterday. It’s a fifteen dollar fine and a “stern talking to” from Seokjin every time they forget to wear it to general body meetings and official school events. A novel punishment but one that she hasn’t been subjected to all school year. 

Yasirah has resigned herself to having to pay the fine when something soft collides with her forehead and falls into her lap. It’s an SGA polo. Her head whips to look at Yuta who is writing on the white board as if he hasn’t just saved her twenty dollars. Not one to waste time, Yasirah snatches her own shirt over her head despite her present company and quickly replaces it with the shirt she’s been given. It’s a little big on her but it doesn’t matter. Yuta just saved her ass because she really didn’t want to hear Seokjin’s mouth today.

“Why?” She asks. The word hangs in the air more like an olive branch than a question of clarification.

“I always keep an extra in my bag in case I forget.” Yuta mentions, still facing  away from her. “I know a twenty dollar fine probably means nothing to you, but despite everything I don’t like the idea of you suffering and Seokjin is a stickler for rules no matter how laid back he seems.”

“Thank you.” Yasirah contemplates her next words carefully. “I’m sorry too…for everything.”

Yuta shrugs as he takes a seat in one of the chairs meant for the students who decide to show up tonight. 

“Water under the bridge but, if you’re still interested, I would be honored to have sex with you.” He grins devilishly at her shocked expression. Her mouth opens and shuts numerous times as she tries to come up with a response. Thankfully, Khushi walks in and saves her from her own hormones.

Yasirah curses up a storm the entire way to Yuta’s off campus apartment. She curses Normani. She curses Yuta. She curses every decision she’s made in her life that’s led her to this moment. She curses it all. Jaehyun had hosted a party at their place the night before and of course Normani just had to make the bright ass decision to mix her light and dark liquor. It’s a wonder the girl even made it home in one piece. She has been avoiding everything Yuta-related like the plague since the SGA meeting on Friday, but she’s nothing if she’s not a great friend so here she is staring at the front door of his apartment to get her best friend’s wallet. Yasirah’s fist meets his door a lot more aggressively than is necessary for a Sunday morning, but she doesn’t have it in her to care. She knocks again when she doesn’t hear any movement on the other side of the door.

Her patience is running incredibly thin and she contemplates leaving, but she told Normani that she would pick up her wallet so she knocks a third time. This time she finally hears what sounds like someone yelling from somewhere inside the apartment. The door swings open a second later to reveal Yuta in all his shirtless glory. A pair of gray sweatpants hang dangerously low on his trim hips. A reflective glint near his navel draws her attention away from his crotch long enough to register the fact that Yuta apparently has a belly button piercing. No shirt. Belly ring. Messy bed head. He looks like sex on legs and while Yasirah has never denied that Yuta is handsome being fully confronted with that fact when she hasn’t had sex in weeks is torture.

“Yasirah?” Yuta vigorously rubs at his tired eyes. There’s no way that she’s standing at his front door right now in the tiniest pair of shorts he’s ever seen. Alas, the scene in front of him remains the same when he drops his hands. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, trust me I’d rather be anywhere but here.” She somehow manages to clear the unsavory thoughts from her brain enough to muster up some of her usual sass. Yasirah can’t let him see how he affects her. It’s bad enough that he already knows that she wants him. “Normani left her wallet here so if you could give it to me so I can go that would be great.”

Yasirah knows she’s doing too much. She’s very aware of that fact, but now that everything is out in the open she doesn’t know how to act around Yuta so she’s defaulted to what she knows best. He narrows his eyes at her but says nothing. She takes a few deep breaths to compose herself when he disappears back into his apartment without a word. He thrusts the wallet into Yasirah’s outstretched hand when he returns. She grabs hold of it expecting for this to be the end of this unwanted interaction but the of course men ruin everything. Yuta yanks on the wallet, wrapping his free arm around Yasirah’s waist to keep her steady when she comes tumbling at him.

“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your fucking mind?” Yasirah is incredulous and yet even to her own ears her words have no bite. She’s motionless in her arms, staring up at his unfairly beautiful face.

“You talk too much.” His lips cover hers in a searing kiss that makes her lightheaded. Nobody has ever kissed her with this much emotion and Yasirah can already see herself becoming addicted to that feeling. 

She moves along with him when he steps backwards into his apartment until he’s able to close the door and press her against it. Normani’s wallet hits the ground but neither one of them can find it in them to care. Too wrapped up in each other to worry about whether or not anything falls out of it. A groan vibrates deep in Yuta’s chest when he grips her ass in both of his hands, using his hold on her to grind himself against her center. She gasps at the pressure on her engorged clit. It feels so good but it’s not enough. His now unoccupied lips busy themselves with mapping out the sensitive spots along her neck while her fingers tug on his hair with every successful find. 

If she had the presence of mind, Yasirah would be embarrassed at the way she whimpers when Yuta completely separates himself from her. She reaches for him but he keeps moving further and further away. Her feet start moving, seemingly on their own accord, to follow him. 

The play follow the leader all the way to his bedroom where he stops to stand next to his bed. Yasirah stands in the open door way suddenly unsure of herself. She’s trying to think with her brain and not her clit but they both seem to be in very horny agreement. It’s her heart that’s holding out. She’s got this weird feeling in her chest that this is going to be monumental in some way. Two against one are damning odds and she seals her fate with the soft click of the lock on his bedroom door.

“Where are your roommates?” Yasirah questions hesitantly.

“Not here.” That’s all she needs to know.

Yuta’s hands are all over her the second she’s back within arm’s reach of him. He eases her down onto his bed, pushing the mess of blankets out of the way the best that he can without detaching his lips from hers. He’s spent his entire college career thus far fantasizing what it would be like to have her beneath him like this and Yuta plans to savor every moment.

He memorizes every whimper and satisfied sigh as he maps out her sweet spots with his wandering hands. It’s when he flicks at her clit with his thumb that he discovers his true weakness. His name falls from Yasirah’s lips on the heels of a moan as she reaches down to grab a fistful of his hair. He nearly loses it then and there.

“Say it again.” Yuta demands. He sucks her clit into his mouth and laves the sensitive bud with his tongue in earnest. His efforts are greatly rewarded as his name echoes off of the walls of his room like a desperate plea for mercy.

Yasirah lifts her hips in an attempt to roll them against his face, but Yuta is having none of that. He uses one arm to anchor her hips to the bed with strength that she would’ve never guessed that he possessed. Yasirah had always thought that he was weak almost dainty even. Being proved wrong pushes her that much closer to the precipice. Yasirah is forced to take what he gives her, nothing more and nothing less. Thankfully, Yuta is a generous lover. Her back arches when he slides two of his elegant fingers knuckle deep into her gushing cunt. He watches her intently from his spot between her legs as he slowly drags his fingers out of her until he finds what he’s looking for. 

Stars dance behind Yasirah’s eye lids as Yuta’s assault on her clit is amplified by him constantly prodding at her g spot. It’s taking all of her mental fortitude to keep from accidentally crushing his skull between her thighs but she’s quickly losing herself to the pleasure. The whole time he’s watching her. He doesn’t want to miss a thing. Yasirah blinks her eyes open long enough to make eye contact with him between her legs and it’s more than she can take. She shoves her fist in her mouth at the last second to muffle her screams as her orgasm hits her with the force of a speeding bullet train. Yuta works her through it until the oversensitivity becomes too much and she pushes him away. 

Tremors wrack her body as Yuta shifts back onto his haunches. He fiddles with the waistband of his sweatpants nervously. Insecure thoughts about what Yasirah might think of him cloud his mind but he shoves them away along with his sweatpants. He’s focused on getting his pants off his legs without toppling off of the bed like a fool and misses the way Yasirah’s mouth drops open at the sight of him hard and ready to ruin her. He’s slightly above average in length and thicker than a beer can. Her eyes nearly roll back in her head at the mere thought of how well he’s going to stretch her out. 

Yuta is taken by surprise when he finally gets his pants off only to be forced onto his back. He doesn’t take long to catch on though. His hands knead at her ass as Yasirah grinds along his rigid length, coating him in her arousal. He watches her in amazement. His eyes dart from her face contorted in pleasure to the tantalizing way her breast sway with every rock of her hips to the mess of their combined excitement pooling on his abdomen. He wants this image, this moment permanently burned into the back of his eyelids for all eternity. 

“Condom.” Yuta is so focused on making her feel good that he doesn’t comprehend what she’s saying to him. Yasirah ignores the way her heart melts at Yuta cutely blinking up at her in confusion and repeats herself. “Condom, Yuta. We need a condom.”

He finally catches up to the moment, rolling them over so that he can dig around in his nightstand for a condom. His breath catches in his throat when Yasirah snatches the foil packet from him to roll the latex on him herself. She strokes him a few times before urging Yuta onto his back once again. The time for teasing is long gone. Her nails dig into the bare skin of his chest when she lines him up with her entrance, taking all of him in a single plunge. Yuta bares his throat at the feeling of being inside her. He swears that he hear angels singing whatever song it is that they sing in times of immense joy. Yasirah is just as affected above him as she adjusts to the stretch. She feels like she’s being split in half in the best way possible. 

Yuta sings her praises endlessly as Yasirah sets a steady rhythm that has the both of them flying high. He meets every downward motion of her hips with an upward thrust of his own. Every ounce of his concentration is focused on finding that elusive spot that he knows will make her scream his name like he wants. Yasirah’s hips stutter suddenly as a garbled mess of curse half words falls from her lips. 

“There it is.” He grunts. The gravelly sound sends a thrill down her spine as she gushes around him.

Yuta is merciless as he makes sure to batter the spot he’s mapped out. Yasirah does her best to keep up but she’s quickly overwhelmed. Seeing her plight, Yuta urges her down to him until they’re chest to chest, wrapping his arms around her. He slows his pace to a gentle rocking of his body in and out of hers as he kisses her lips tenderly. But she’s craving more. The desire to be aching from him for days drives her pleas for Yuta to fuck her harder, faster, and he is only too happy to obliger her demands.

Yasirah’s nails are beginning to draw blood where they’re digging into his shoulder blades but Yuta couldn’t care less. He’s dancing on the edge of something monumental and he fully intends to take her with him. A flash of white hot heat shoots down his spine and he’s coming. Yasirah tumbles over the edge right behind him, twitching in his hold from the force of her orgasm. 

Normally, she’d be damn near comatose after coming that hard but Yuta’s dick is more than just big; it’s magical as well. Yasirah feels like invigorated and tingly. She can feel the soreness starting to set in as the two of them try to catch their breath but she’s feeling the urge to go do volunteer work and bake cookies. 

“Wanna go again?” Yuta asks once his heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He grins devilishly when Yasirah moves to position herself between his outstretched legs. He sends a silent prayer up to God to keep his roommates away as long as possible.

Yuta drums on the top of Mark’s head playfully as he joins him, Khushi, and Jaehyun at the table they’ve staked out in the library. Midterms are coming up so they’re all supposed to be studying but it’s clear from the sheer amount of snacks piled in the center of the table that there won’t be much learning going on tonight. 

“Yo, where are all the other areas?” Jaehyun asks Yuta the second he sits down. Mark and Khushi groan out, clearly already having been tortured by whatever weed-induced epiphany that Jaehyun has had.

“Other areas?”

“Yeah, like the government tried to hide Area 51 but we found out. So where are areas 1 through 50?” Jaehyun slams his hand down onto his closed textbook authoritatively. “I’m telling you man something hinky is going on here.”

“It’s the American government, Jae. Something hinky is always going on.” Khushi deadpans. That only triggers another realization for Jaehyun as forces them to listen to another one of his theories about the government. Mark drags him to go buy more snacks since they apparently don’t have enough, leaving Khushi and Yuta to enjoy a few moments of peace.

Yuta checks his phone for the millionth time in the past hour. All that’s waiting for him is a few emails from professors, a shipping notification from Amazon, and a calendar notification reminding him to pay his rent. He opens his text messages to make sure his phone isn’t just playing him for a fool, but Yasirah has in fact not texted him back. They’d been spamming each other with spongebob memes, a personal favorite of hers he’s discovered, but she had yet to reply to the one he’d sent her nearly an hour ago.

“Why are you staring at your phone like it ruined your life?” Yuta waves Khushi off, tensing up when the slim device vibrates in his hand. He doesn’t even get a chance to read the message before his phone is snatched from him.

“Yaya?” Khushi questions with a suspicious look on his face. “That better not be who I think it is.”

“Thinking is bad, Kush. Now give me my phone back, please.” Yuta reaches across the table to try and take his phone back, but Khushi uses his long arms to his advantage to keep it out of his reach. Yuta’s anxiety is shooting through the room as he scrambles up to get his phone back when he see Khushi’s fingers sliding around the screen.

“You filthy liar!” Khushi doesn’t resist when Yuta snatches his phone from him. To in shock by whatever it was he saw. Yuta is relieved to see that he didn’t go through their messages, but he knows there’s no use in lying about who the message is from anymore when he sees Yasirah’s contact screen open on his phone.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Khushi. I’m so deadass. She might actually kill me.” Yuta does his best to convey the seriousness of this situation. Khushi makes a grand gesture of pretending to lock his lips and toss away the key.

“Your secret is safe with me, but how long has this been going on? If you don’t me asking that is.” Khushi is the picture of bewilderment as he tries to process the fact the secret he just uncovered.

“A few weeks.” Yuta’s responds absentmindedly as he goes back to his texts to see what Yasirah said. His eyes nearly bug out of his head at what he sees. 

YaYa: TL 1022 🏇🏽

YaYa: door code is 0956

“I gotta go.” He rushes out while shoving his stuff back into his bag. Khushi shakes his head as he watches Yuta bold for the exit like his ass is on fire. He’d always known that the two of them had the potential to go down this path but never in a million years did he actually think it would happen.

If someone had told Yuta a month ago that he would be balls deep in Yasirah Coleman several times a week, he would’ve had them committed. Now here he is not even thinking twice about abandoning his studies when his phone buzzes with messages that are obviously an invitation to a booty call. As a business law major, she shouldn’t have access to the practice rooms that are strictly for instrumental music majors but it seems that she has once again defied all of the odds. Probably one of the many perks of being related to the university’s most favored donors. It’s a ten minute walk from the library to the TL building but he plans to do it in five. He’s already at half mast at the thought of bending her over to have his way with her.

The sight that greets Yuta when he enters the practice room nearly sends him to an early grave. Yasirah sits atop the baby grand piano in the corner just as naked as the day she was born. The lighting is shitty but that doesn’t stop her soaked folds from glistening tantalizingly. Yuta’s mouth is watering as he approaches the siren that summons him in her neediest times, dropping to his knees without a word. Not like they need to speak anyway. They’ve become masters at reading each other’s bodies like the backs of their hands. He works hard to get her off quickly as he strums her body into a fever pitch. Yasirah’s still coming down from her high when Yuta slides in deep. 

All traces of the sun have disappeared when they finally emerge from their temporary paradise. Yasirah whines at the way her legs protest her every move until Yuta eventually takes pity on her and hoists her into his arms. She directs him to her car in near empty parking lot, surprising him by hopping into the passenger seat once he’s set her down. 

“How in the world are you going to drive from over there?”

“I’m not. You are now get in.” Yuta gags on his own spit. No way in hell she expects him to drive her very expensive car, but from her rapidly souring expression that is exactly what she means for him to do and she’s getting agitated with him not following directions. 

He drops his bag onto the backseat before carefully getting behind the wheel. The engine roars to life with a push of a button. Yuta begs God not to let anything happen to this car while he’s responsible for it before hesitantly easing out of the space. They both yelp when he accidentally gives it too much gas as he pull out of the parking lot. The drive is uneventful after that but he’s never been more thankful to see an apartment complex come into view in all of his days. 

“So,” Yuta holds her door open as Yasirah stretches her stiff limbs next to the car, “I guess this is good night?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Good night, Yuta.” She presses her lips to his in farewell. Yuta’s blushes at the way he chases her for more when she pulls away.

“Good night, Yasirah.” He whispers into the void between them. She pecks his lips once more before locking her car and making her way to her apartment. Yuta stands watch to make sure she makes it inside safely, turning to walk down the street to his own apartment. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

YaYa: text me when you get home so I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere

To most people, Yasirah’s message might be off putting considering that he was literally inside her twenty minutes ago, but Yuta knows better. He sees right through her like a freshly cleaned window. Yasirah might talk a big game but she cares or she wouldn’t have even thought about bothering to make sure he got home okay. Yuta contemplates calling Khushi, his only confidant in all of this, to once again get his advice on how to lure Yasirah into his romantic trap, but decides that he’s probably bothered him enough about his troubles for the week. 

Yuta: made it home without a scratch

YaYa: good and I want you to know I saw your little “gift” on my ass when I got out of the shower

He chuckles at the thought of the mark he’d left square in the middle of her right ass cheek as something to remember him by. He can only imagine how she plans to get back at him for that one. No matter what her twisted little brain comes up with, he’s sure that he’ll love it.

“Reality is a cruel bitch.” Yasirah mumbles as she scrolls through the bath & body works website.  The semiannual sale is in full swing which means it’s time to stock up on candles and shower gels but unfortunately for her and everyone around her she hasn’t had an opportunity to go to the local store to sniff everything and make her decision on which ones to buy. Her victim of the hour is Yuta who has dutifully listened to her complaints as he rubs down her muscles after a particularly active rendezvous at the beach house Yasirah’s parents own not far from the university. Their favorite place to hook up whenever they’ve got the time.

“Don’t they do this sale twice a year? Is it really going to kill you to miss it this time?” He asks. To him it’s just overpriced candles and lotions, but Yasirah obviously holds them in much higher regard.

“I will in fact keel over and die if I don’t get new candles. I’m on my last one. I can’t live like this.” She whines thought it morphes into a moan when Yuta works out a knot in between her shoulder blades. His cock twitches against her ass at the sound and soon enough she’s much too distracted by the carnal desire to be one with him to worry about the plight of her candle collection.

A few days later and Yasirah is on the verge of madness. It seems like the harder she tries to make her way across town to the mall, the more stuff she has to do. She’s starting to think that some divine force doesn’t want her to go spend a small fortune on candles at this point. Her friend Madison who works in the office of student engagement texts her saying that someone just left a package for her in the SGA mailbox. More than a little intrigued, Yasirah books it over to the student center to see what it is before her next class. Her legs are going to hate for this unscheduled jog later but she’s pressed for time.

She’s thoroughly out of breath when she waves to Madison on her way to the small room that holds the mailboxes for the various organizations across campus. If she wasn’t already gasping for breath, Yasirah would definitely be in desperate need of oxygen when she spots the trademark red and yellow bag indicative of the semiannual sale. Yasirah rips it out of the cubby hole its stuffed in, nearly crying when she realizes that it’s full of candles in various scents. She notices that one of them has a note taped to it.

I bought you a few of this one since it smelled so good. I even bought one for myself because it reminds me of you. Hope you enjoy them beautiful!

Yuta

The ethics class she’d been pressed to get back to is quickly pushed to the back burner. Her heart melts at the thought of Yuta sniffing all of the candles in bath & body words just to make sure she didn’t miss out. She unscrews the lid on the candle that bears his note, golden hibiscus, and it smells almost exactly like the new leave in conditioner that she’s grown fond of. Yasirah thinks back on all of the post-sex cuddles that have all included a remark on how good her hair smelled. It’s in that moment that Yasirah realizes that she’s a lot more attached to Yuta than she had originally she thought. This is new territory for her as she’s never felt attraction for men beyond the physical pleasure they can bring her. An intense fear grips her as she leaves the student center to go to her ethics class. She shoots off a quick text to Yuta thanking him for the candles out of obligation and respect but she fully intends for that to be the last time she speaks to him. He wields more power over her than he probably realizes and she’ll be damned if she’ll give him the opportunity to use it against her.

Yuta is on the verge of madness. He’s called. He’s texted. He’s even emailed. But Yasirah has gone totally off the grid. Nothing he tries illicit a response from her and for a minute he was starting to think that something may have happened to her, but what he saw earlier made him realize that something much deeper is going on with her. He’d watched the woman in question receive a text from only to purposefully ignore it. For the life of him, Yuta can’t think what it is that he could’ve done to deserve this which is why he’s knocking on Khushi’s door looking for guidance.

“This better be real fucking important for you to be interrupting my nap.” Khushi grumbles. Yuta knew that he was risking his life by interrupting his friend’s daily scheduled nap, but it just couldn’t be help.

“If it’s any consolation,” Yuta produces a Chick-fil-a bag from behind his back, “I brought you nuggets. I drank the tea though. It’s hot as balls outside.”

“Polynesian sauce?” Khushi narrows his eyes at the man currently trying to bribe his way into his apartment. His hand grips the door tightly, ready to slam it shut at any given moment should the bribe fall short.

“A whole handful of them.” Relief washes over Yuta when Khushi steps to the side to allow him entrance. Khushi can already feel the regret setting in but he’s weak for chicken nuggets especially when they’re free and come with an assload of polynesian sauce.

Yuta collapses onto the couch in the living room and proceeds to spill his guts as if Khushi is a licensed therapist. Khushi chimes in here and there to get clarification but primarily just lets Yuta talk while he focuses on his nuggets and fries. It quickly becomes clear to him exactly what has happened. These two fuck wits have fallen head over heels for each other but in typical Yasirah fashion she has run for the hills to avoid succumbing to her own feelings. Nothing Yuta could have said or done would’ve stopped this from happening despite him thinking the opposite.

“Listen man, you just need to talk to her. Pull her to the side after the meeting on Thursday and clear the air then.” Khushi’s suggestion is based in sound logic and a working knowledge on how Yasirah generally reacts to confrontation. The look on Yuta’s face; however, says that he has absolutely wasted his breath even mentioning his idea. He can practically see the gears turning behind his friend’s eyes. Nothing good is bound to come from that.

“Jaehyun says that she’s super jealous and possessive so what if I use that to my advantage?” 

Khushi can tell that Yuta believes this to be a top tier plan as he goes on to describe exactly how he intends to do that. He was right to believe that nothing good would come from this love sick man’s thought processes. Yuta is so hell bent on getting Yasirah back that his judgement is clouded in a major way. Khushi prepares himself for another barrage of texts and calls when this inevitably goes south. He really should start charging these two numb nuts for all the stress they’re putting him through. 

Taco Tuesday, otherwise known as the most sacred day of the week, is one of the few things about college that Yasirah is very heavily attached to. Every Tuesday afternoon between the hours of three and five pm she can be found holding down the fort in the dining hall gorging herself on tacos while she studies. It’s become such a consistent ritual that by the time she’s swiped into the dining hall four starter tacos are already waiting for her at her usual table just the way she likes them. Chorizo, cotija cheese, and salsa verde with three lime wedges. 

She’s halfway through an assignment for her business law class when movement at one of the other tables in her section catches her attention. A small smile graces Yasirah’s face before she can stop it when she realizes that it’s Yuta. He’s got his headphones in and he’s typing away at his phone so he’s blissfully unaware of her presence. In spite of her earlier decision to avoid him, Yasirah is halfway out of her chair to go get his attention when some random girl she’s never seen before plucks one of his headphones out of his ear before plopping down in his lap. Instead of pushing her off like Yasirah expects him too, Yuta seems only too happy to let her remain perched in his lap.

Yasirah’s fist clench up at her sides. It’s been a long time since she’s been this enraged. She takes deep, calming breaths as she reminds herself that Yuta is not her boyfriend and she has no romantic claim to him. She repeats that to herself and it works for a while. A girlish giggle interrupts her concentration, making her eye twitch. Yasirah’s stomach turns when she looks up to see Yuta whispering in her ear which is the apparent source of the god awful noice that’s coming out of her mouth. They look every bit like a happy couple content with each other’s presence as they eat tacos. It’s sickening.

“Am I the only one here that respects the sanctity of Taco Tuesday?” Yasirah demands, slamming her fist down on the table hard enough to nearly knock her drink over. Yuta and his companion have the audacity to look sheepish as she stares the both of them down.

“Hey, Yasirah. I didn’t see you over there.” Yuta says.

“How could you with Ms. Anime Titties here blocking your view? Don’t worry about it though. This sickening display has ruined my appetite so I’m leaving.” Yasirah shoves her MacBook into her backpack unceremoniously and makes a hasty exit. She can hear Yuta calling after her but she’d rather chew through a brick wall than look at him for even one more second. Her BMW is peeling out of the parking lot by the time he reaches it. Yuta curses the heavens. This isn’t how he thought this would go. He pulls his phone out to call Khushi and hopes that his friend knows how to fix the giant mess he just made.

“If you called me to talk about Yuta, I’m hanging up on your ass.” Khushi had contemplated sending the call to voicemail, but he’s nothing if he’s not a sucker for his friends. He always answers the call when they need him but it’s days like today that he wishes he wasn’t so damn reliable. First Yuta and now Yasirah. The day these two dumbasses figure out how to communicate with each other without using him as a middle man is the day he will finally know peace. Unfortunately, that day has yet to come.

“Khushi, please!” Yasirah pleads with him. She knows he’s tired of hearing her rant about Yuta, but Jaehyun is the only other person that knows about their arrangement and she’s definitely not about to ask him for advice. “I’ll buy you milkshakes for a month just help me.”

Silence rings loudly in her ear.

“A month you say?” Khushi acquiesces much to her joy. She really doesn’t know what she would’ve done if he hadn’t given in. Probably something stupid like go see Yuta and yell at him for having some whore sitting in his lap.

After agreeing to Khushi’s terms about his milkshake payment, Yasirah launches into the latest Yuta news. Khushi rolls his eyes dramatically when he realizes that today’s enemies with benefits crisis is the exact scenario that he had guessed that it would be. Yuta’s plan to make Yasirah jealous in an attempt to win her back — the very plan that Khushi had told him to abort immediately — was apparently wildly successful, but without the outcome that Yuta had been expecting. Yasirah is pissed off and jealous out of her mind just as they’d both predicted they would be. However, the fairytale outcome Yuta had dreamed up of her finally admitting her feelings and running right into his arms is nowhere close to coming to fruition. Instead, she’s doing exactly what Khushi had theorized and that’s working herself into a frenzy while she plans her revenge.

“What the hell am I supposed to do about this, Kush?” Yasirah is all but screaming in his ear and Khushi won’t be all that surprised if he’s unable to hear out of his right ear in the morning. “That stupid boy is playing in my face and he can’t get away with it. I know I kinda put things on pause but this is a matter of respect.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that he did that to make you jealous enough to confess your feelings for him?” Khushi asks, hoping that the truth will quell Yasirah’s anger enough for her to calm down and consider a plan of action that won’t end in hurt feelings. 

“Yuta is too smart to do some dumb shit like that.” Yasirah exclaims. If she only knew just how wrong she actually is. 

Khushi does his best to talk some sense into Yasirah but his efforts are in vain. No matter what he says she finds some convoluted way to refute it. He’s convinced that she doesn’t realize how crazed she sounds, but at this point there’s nothing he can do but let her put her own foolish plan into action. Part of him feels like he should warn Yuta of the hurricane headed his way, but ultimately decides that it’s useless. Neither one of them have listened to him so far, why would they suddenly start now?

Yasirah strides into the next exec board meeting nearly twenty minutes after it’s set start time just as nonchalant as if she walking through the park. She’s carrying two milkshakes, one of which she sets down in front of Khushi on her way to her seat. Taeil nearly falls out of his chair from the relief of not having to continue to take minutes for the meeting like he’d been forced to do. 

“How wonderful of you to join us, Ms. Coleman.” Seokjin says from his spot in the back of the room.

“We’ll see how wonderful it is in a minute.” Yasirah replies though her hardened gaze is fixed on Yuta. He swallows roughly out of nervousness but maintains eye contact with her nonetheless. You never take your eyes off a tigress when she’s poised to strike.

The meeting continues once Yasirah situates herself and picks up on the minutes where Taeil left off. The energy in the room is tense as she redefines the term, raging bitch. Everything out of Yuta’s mouth gets insulted until even Seokjin, who is normally silent, speaks up to defend him. Knowing that he’s the reason for the anger radiating off of Yasirah in waves, Yuta waves the advisor off.

“Anybody that can handle a little criticism shouldn’t be president of SGA, but then again this country has a history of putting incompetent men in charge just because they look nice and sound smarter than the average bear.” Yuta winces at her scathing remark as does everyone else in the room. It’s so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Deciding that she’s done what she came to do, Yasirah stands from her seat to leave before Seokjin can kick her out. She doesn’t feel nearly as good about how this went down as she thought she would.

Seokjin’s email the next morning summoning her to a meeting with both him and Yuta is not surprising in the slightest. Yasirah knows full well that her behavior in the meeting was excessive even by her own usual snarky standards. She’d picked up her phone countless times to call Yuta and apologize but her pride stopped her every time. She desperately wishes that she could erase the memory of how hurt he’d looked, but it’s burned into her brain. It kept her awake all night, taunting her whenever she closed her eyes until she’d abandoned the thought of sleep altogether.

The day passes by in a blur of classes and forgotten conversations. Not even Khushi can break Yasirah out of her funk during their daily Chick-fil-a outing which normally consists of her choking on her sweet tea at least once. 

“Rah?” Khushi waves his hand in front of her face in an effort to get her attention. She hums in acknowledgment thought she continues to pick apart the waffle fries Khushi has been trying to force her to eat. He sighs at her overcast attitude. It’s clear that he’s going to get nowhere with her.

Normani had said she was in bad shape when she’d texted him earlier, but he didn’t realize it was this bad. She’s but a mere shadow of her normal, vivacious self and he can’t help but think about Yuta who is in the exact same boat. Khushi has never met two people who deserved each other more. Both of them are so stubborn and prideful that it’s sickening to even think about. They’ve spent months waxing poetic about each other to him instead of just taking his advice and actually telling the other one how they feel. Now they might lose it all before they even have a chance to really get started. Khushi walks with her to the door of Seokjin’s office on the third floor of the student union, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Hopefully the two idiots finally come to their senses and realize that they’re head over heels for each other.

Yasirah schools her face into a mask of indifference as she takes a seat in the empty seat next to Yuta. She can feel his eyes on her but she keeps her own gaze trained on Seokjin who is leaning against his desk in front of them. Though she refuses to acknowledge his presence in the slightest, Yasirah can feel some of the tension melt out of her shoulders just from being in the same room as Yuta and she can’t stand it. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush here with you, Ms. Coleman.” Seokjin’s voice is stern as he stares her down. Yasirah winces at the sound of him addressing her so formally. He’s always treated the executive board more like his colleagues than students he’s been charged with babysitting. Apparently, she’s in more trouble than she’d realized.

“Your behavior last night was absolutely unacceptable. I know you like to think that you can just talk to people any way you want to because your last name is on a few buildings at this university, but you crossed a line.” Seokjin barrels ahead, holding up a hand when he notices that Yasirah is about to interrupt. “Yuta, do you have anything you’d like to say?”

Yasirah squares her shoulders, bracing for whatever it is that Yuta is about to unleash on her. If she’s learned anything about him in the time that they’ve known each other, she’s learned that Yuta never attacks his opponents head on. He finds weak points and carefully chips away at them until his opponent brings about their own destruction. She expects thinly veiled insults. She expects subtle attacks at her character. She doesn’t expect for him to go straight for the jugular by suggesting that her “gross lack of self-control and empathy” makes her unfit to hold a position in student government.

“You fucking cock sucker, how dare you?” Yasirah explodes before she can stop herself which, in hind sight, was exactly what he wanted from her. He was fishing for a reaction and he got exactly what he bargained for.

Seokjin steps in to intervene when the two students devolve into a screaming match. They continue to hurl insults and scathing remarks back and forth as if he hadn’t opened his mouth. His office has been the venue for more than one fight in his time at the university, but Seokjin quickly clues into the fact that there is more than petty disagreements coming to a head right now. He’s the holder of many degrees but it’s the gold band on his left hand that gave him the expertise to see through the curse words flying through the air. He grabs at the emergency air horn next to his laptop and gives it a few quick taps.

“Either one of you want to tell me what’s really going on here? I’m getting the feeling it’s about more than what happened last night during the meeting.” Seokjin looks from Yuta to Yasirah and back again but neither one of them seems to be too interested in speaking anymore. “I’ve got all night to sit here and stare and we’re not leaving this room until we get to the bottom of this.”

Yasirah becomes very fascinated by her own nail beds as the three of them sit and stew in the silence. Seokjin might think that he has enough time to wait her out but he is sadly mistaken. She is fully prepared to play his game. Yuta, on the other hand, is not. Fifteen minutes into their little game and he breaks. He spills his guts all over the linoleum in Seokjin’s office. Thankfully he leaves out the more sordid details but it’s enough to get his point across.

“Kids, as someone who has been happily married for the past four years, let me give you a tip.” Seokjin starts, mindlessly clicking a pen that he picked up at some point. “Talking to each other openly and honestly is the key to any successful relationship.”

“We aren’t in a relationship though.” Yasirah points out quickly. Labels have always weirded her out and sent her running for the hills.

“On the contrary, Yasirah. The second you decided you wanted him around for more than just sex, you were in a relationship whether you meant to be or not. Just because a jar of pickles doesn’t have a label on it saying pickles doesn’t mean that there isn’t still pickles in the jar.” 

As stupid as that analogy is, it makes something click in Yasirah’s brain. She looks over at Yuta, but he seems to have taken a page out of her book and refuses to make eye contact. It’s clear as day that the imbalance in power she thought had existed before was much more balanced than she’d thought. Yuta was just as enthralled with her as he was with him, but her own fear wouldn’t let her see it. Now, it might be too late and that scares her ever more. Seokjin urges her to say the words that she’s been holding back, but she can’t seem to bring herself to let them come out of her mouth.

“Fuck this. Nobody has to resign. I can finish out the year, but I’m done with the rest of this bullshit.” Yuta is out the door so fast Yasirah swears she can physically the air filling in the empty space where he’d once sat. She’s itching to follow after him but she can’t move. Her limbs feel like they’re being weighed down by cement blocks.

“Yasirah, I can see how scared you are,” Seokjin crouches down in front of her so that they’re eye to eye before he continues, “but I can also see that you care for him more than you even realize right now. If you don’t go after him now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Another beat of silence passes before Yasirah is up and out of her chair, racing down the stairs. 

That familiar head of platinum blonde hair is nowhere to be found when she reaches the first floor. She looks around frantically but there is still no sign of him. Yuta normally rides the free shuttle bus to and from campus but her feet carry her in the opposite direction towards the parking lot instead. Her shoulders sag in relief when she spots him tossing his bag into the back seat of his car. 

“Yuta, wait!” He looks absolutely bewildered to see her running at him full speed like a bullet train. 

“Jesus Christ I need to work out.” Yasirah pants when she finally reaches him, tightly wrapping her arms around his waist while she hides her face in the crook of his neck.. The adrenaline rush that had fueled her mad dash to the parking lot is quickly wearing off. Yuta gently tries to extricate himself from her hold but she simply holds on tighter.

“I’m sorry that I’m an insufferable bitch. I like that you buy me candles because they remind you of me. I like that you appreciate my stupid memes. I like that you’re you and I hope you still like me too.” She blubbers out in a rush. Yuta’s chest feels like it’s going to burst at any given moment. He imagines that this has got to be what it feels like to win the lottery.

“I like that you’re you too.” He whispers. The halo of curls tickling his nose draws him in with the intoxicating hibiscus scent that he’s missed so much. It’s so inherently her and he can feel the tension melt from his body with every deep inhale. 

“Is this the part where I ask to be your girlfriend?” Yuta shivers at the words that Yasirah whispers against his neck. “I’ve never done this before and I’m tired of fucking it up so just tell me what to do.”

“Well first,” Yuta escorts Yasirah around the front of his car and opens the passenger door, “I’m going to take my girlfriend to get ice cream.”

“Fuck yes! Can we go to Boombalattis?” She pleads once he’s behind the wheel, turning up the charm just in case he’d entertained the thought of saying no.

“Anything for you.”

Yuta hums a made up tune as he softly trails his fingers up and down Yasirah’s bare back. Goosebumps follow his fingers as they glide across her skin. He knows she’s awake yet neither one is too keen on breaking the silence that’s wrapped around them like a warm blanket. The hand that had rested against his rib cage abandons it’s post as Yasirah reaches up to fiddle with the simple silver chain around Yuta’s neck. A glance at the digital clock on her desk across the room dumps a bucket of ice on his joyous mood. He has to leave soon if he wants to avoid her roommates. He’s surprised that she even let him spend the night to begin with. As if she can sense the change in the air, Yasirah clings to him. 

“Babe, I have to go.” He doesn’t want to leave just as much as she wants him to stay. She fits so perfectly in his arms and he wants to keep her there forever, but she doesn’t want anyone to know about their relationship yet so he has to leave. The now familiar bitterness threatens to twist his face into a scowl at all of the time they have to sacrifice just for her to save face in front of their friends.

“No.” Yasirah shifts until she’s on top of Yuta with all of her limbs wrapped around him. “I want you to stay.”

His heart flutters at what that could mean. He wants nothing more than to hold her hand in the broad daylight. To proudly show the world just how much he cares for her. Yuta has learned not to get his hopes up too high though. This isn’t the first time he’s thought that she would give up this secrecy bullshit only to get let down. He allows her to stay there for a while. Too weak to lift her off of him so he can get dressed. Unfortunately, time waits for no one and he’s dangerously close to getting caught here if he doesn’t get moving. As tough as she claims to be, Yasirah isn’t strong enough to withstand Yuta digging his fingers into her sides playfully. The high pitched squeal she lets out brings a smile to his own face as he successfully tickles her to the other side of the bed. He leaps into action before she can gather her wits and is already half dressed by the time she catches her breath.

“I should beat your ass for that, Nakamoto.” She threatens as she glares at him. The thin sheet that had been covering her falls away when she crawls towards the edge of the bed. He curses the way his cock hardens at the sight of her on her hands and knees before him. She’s not playing fair.

It takes an act of God, but he manages to leave without giving into her siren call. His phone pings with a text message just as he about to pull out of his parking space. After seeing it’s from Yasirah, he puts his car back in park and opens it. Spit flies from his mouth as he chokes violently. He’s not sure what he expected but an aerial shot of her naked body spread out for him wasn’t on the list. The picture doesn’t show her face so he doesn’t feel bad about saving it to his phone before shooting off a reply and dropping his phone in the cup holder. She’s going to be the death of him one of these days.

Yasirah stretches like a cat in the sun. She imagines Yuta is somewhere in the parking lot choking on his own spit over the picture she’d sent him on a whim. The only thing that could make this sweeter is being able to see it first hand, but her imagination will have to suffice for now.

She’s just laid down after showering and changing her bed sheets when Yasirah hears the front door open and close. She quickly jumps up to go see her friends, but stops short when she sees Wheein sniffing at the air like a bloodhound that just caught the scent of a fresh kill. The girl has the strongest olfactory senses she’s ever seen in a human which is why she’d made sure to open some windows and spray down the entire apartment with Febreze. Apparently, her efforts were in vain.

“There was a penis in this apartment.” Wheein says with conviction, staring Yasirah down where she stands in the hallway.

“Man, Wheein. Just say there was a man in here.” Normani sounds exhausted and Yasirah is sure that between the long weekend training they’d had to attend and the energy drink that Wheein is clutching in one hand, she’s beyond tired. 

“That lacks pizazz.” Wheein replies, hopping up on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs like a toddler. “So, who was it? Was he hot? Was his dick as big as Jaehyun’s?”

“What are you talking about, Whee? It was Jaehyun.”

“No, it wasn’t. Jaehyun smells like weed and cologne with a hint of sweaty balls. That is not what I’m smelling right now.” Yasirah should’ve known that she couldn’t fool Wheein. “So, who was it? Do I know him?”

Yasirah takes a second to figure out how to respond. She decides to play it safe. “No, I don’t think you know him. He doesn’t go to school with us.”

Her heart nearly beats out of her chest in the three seconds it takes Wheein to process and respond to her answer. She seems to take it as the truth, wishing her luck in her new dick endeavors before heading off to her own bedroom. Yasirah lets out a deep sigh of relief. She knows that everyone will find out eventually, but she wants to be the one to tell them and she wants to do it when she’s ready.

Car sex is absolutely abhorrent and Yuta is willing to die on that hill. His legs are bent at the most awkward angle. He’s hit his head on the door a concerning amount of times. He’s also quite certain that they’ve sucked all of the oxygen out of the vehicle with all of their panting. If it wasn’t for the fact that he is absolutely whipped for Yasirah, he’d have never agreed to putting himself through this type of torture after discovering just how awful it was the first time they’d tried it.

“Don’t you think this would be more comfortable in one of the beds that we get extorted to sleep in?” Yuta asks once they’re done. Yasirah rolls her eyes, knowing exactly where he’s going with this. 

“We’ve gone over this already, Yuta.” The look in her eye is frosty when she finally looks up at him, but her glares have long since lost their effect on him. Even if they hadn’t, he is entirely too frustrated to care about if she’s mad at him or not. 

“No, you’ve gone over this already and I just went along with it but I’m tired of that. What’s the point of dating if I can’t date you in public?” His mind calls up the memory of the day they went to go get ice cream after the cluster fuck of a meeting they’d had with Seokjin. That had been the first and last time they’d gone out together as a couple.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Yasirah’s chest feels tight with fear at the possibility that she could have pushed Yuta away with her selfish desire to live in this secret bliss. Every memory is their own. Untainted by the presence of others and she wants to keep it that way for as long as possible.

“No, I’m in this with you for as long as you’ll have me. I just wish everyone else knew that too.”

Yuta’s words play over and over in Yasirah’s head all through the night. What she wants and what she knows is right are at odds right now. She can’t continue to avoid the issue anymore because Yuta isn’t going to tolerate her hesitance forever. He deserves someone who loves him loudly and dammit she is going to be that someone.

Yuta rocks back and forth on his heels as he patiently waits his turn to place his order at Starbucks. Yasirah had texted him earlier about meeting up here before the exec board meeting so he figured he may as well grab a couple chai teas. Only one more person stands between him and the overpriced iced deliciousness he craves when he feels a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. The scent of hibiscus and honey teases his senses, striking him with both fear and joy.

“Hey, pretty.” The whispered compliment is followed by a chaste kiss to his temple. 

“Hey, pretty.” He playfully repeats. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into her today, but he doesn’t question it in fear that she’ll stop and go back to pretending like she doesn’t beg him for kisses in private. 

Yasirah rests her head on his shoulder, arms still tightly wrapped around his middle, as she waits with him line only letting go so that she can take her drink from the barista once it’s ready. She surprises Yuta yet again when she grabs his free hand in hers. This time he’s not successful at keeping his questions at bay. 

“Who are you and what have you done to my girlfriend?” His heart drops when she slips her hand out of his grip. He knew he should’ve kept his mouth closed. 

“Did you or did you not say you wanted everyone to know we’re dating?” She stops walking to stare him down in the middle of the busy sidewalk much to the annoyance of the people now forced to walk around them.

“I do but you said-” Yuta doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

“Fuck what I said. Now are you going to hold my hand or not?” Yasirah smiles victoriously when Yuta slots his fingers between hers. There’s still an uneasy feeling in her chest as they resume their journey to the political science building, but she pushes it down for his sake. No matter how much he wants this he’ll give it all up if he sees her panicking and she wants to do this for him.

Yasirah’s mind is racing with how their friends will react. Will they be happy? Upset? Various scenarios fill her brain to the point that she doesn’t even notice they’ve reached their destination until Yuta gently turns her head to face him.

“I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t have to.” God, this man. She really doesn’t know what country she saved in a past life to deserve him. Yasirah leans in to press her lips against his.

“No, we’ve waited long enough.”

They step through the door hand in hand to a chorus of gasps. Yuta seems to believe it but Yasirah’s keen senses pick up on the scent of bullshit in the air. Something is not right here. One look at Wheein and she knows the truth. This is why she sucks at poker. She wears her thoughts on her plain as day.

“Spill.” Wheein gulps when all of the attention is turned on her. She avoids eye contact with Yasirah, knowing full well that her best friend and roommate is incredibly aware of all her trigger points to break her. Deciding to avoid the misery of drawing this out, she caves.

“I told them.” Wheein whines. Yasirah loves her to pieces but she couldn’t keep a secret even if you paid her so she’s not surprised that it got now that she knows that Wheein was in on it. The only question at this point is how she knew.

“Wheein, how did you even figure it out?” Yuta asks, beating Yasirah to the punch.

“I smelled you. You smelled just like the guy you had in the apartment that day.” Yasirah rolls her eyes skywards. Leave it to Wheein’s supersonic olfactory senses to expose the truth behind her lies. She thought she had dodged a bullet by telling her she didn’t know who it was only to realize now that she’d stepped right into the line of fire.

Wheein’s confession leads to even more shocking revelations as the rest of the exec board starts detailing little things they’d noticed but hadn’t given much thought to. An Iron Maidens t-shirt that Yuta had mentioned missing turning up in Yasirah’s laundry. The lingering floral scent of leave-in conditioner that an apartment of smelly men wouldn’t have any use for. To think that they’d thought they had everyone fooled with all of their sneaking around when actually everyone had been betting to see how long it would take for them to realize that they all knew. 

“Well since the cat’s out of the bag now, let’s get this show on the road.” Seokjin prompts from his seat off to the side. This wasn’t one of the outcomes that Yasirah had envisioned but she’s happy about it nonetheless. She squeezes Yuta’s hand one final time under the table once they’ve taken their seats, hoping that it conveys everything she wants to say but can’t. He nudges her knee with his with a wink in her direction. If perfect was an achievable goal, Yasirah would definitely say that she’s reached it.

[rainbowwritesthings]

A Place On Earth

Yanking the door open with Butchers name on his lips, he came face to face with MM and Butcher standing a bit of a way behind him. The events that lead to that point crashed into him and his heart became deafening in his ears, he could feel the knife buried into his ribs but couldn’t feel the object no matter how much he grasped at it. 

Second chapter of I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight.

Hughie stared blankly at the ceiling, blinking at the shocking white that surrounded him, everything felt numb and he was brought back to when he had gotten his wisdom teeth removed years ago.

Awareness took its time visiting Hughie and when it granted him enough presence he sat up with a grunt, his chest felt oddly tight for some reason and when his hand brushed a certain area he shivered.

Some deep part of his lizard brain was screaming at him that something was wrong, that he needed to get up and leave now. Hughie had successfully gotten out of the bed when he noticed his attire, plaid pajama pants and an oversized shirt that he had never seen before.

The numbness was receding and with it Hughie realized he wasn’t in his apartment, he was in one of the safehouses. Yanking the door open with Butchers name on his lips, he came face to face with MM and Butcher standing a bit of a way behind him.

The events that lead to that point crashed into him and his heart became deafening in his ears, he could feel the knife buried into his ribs but couldn’t feel the object no matter how much he grasped at it.

Hughie couldn’t breathe again; his lungs were filled with blood and it caked his throat as thoroughly as tar. A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and Hughie fought it back with a strangled shout, loud buzzing was just barely audible over his heart.

Instead of Soldier Boy a very blurry but familiar face swam into his view, blinking hard and rubbing at his eyes Hughie was better able to see the man kneeling before him. The familiar rumble and what it was saying was lost to Hughie, as was the expression the man wore. Hughie forced air into his burning lungs.

“I- didn’t.”

It was too hard to breathe, he was drowning again, the bones from his shattered ribs were pressing into his only good lung. “I didn’t know. Swear to god I didn’t-.”

The way Butcher had looked at him with horror filled his mind and spots danced around his vision, from his shaky gaze he watched Butcher rise and walk off.

Fuck, was the man going to bring out his crowbar to see what he could come back from?

MM was suddenly kneeling before him; both his hands were held up and his posture was purposefully non-threatening. His lips moved continuously, and Hughie found himself trying to focus on them. When MM saw the spark of awareness, he tried to help the man out.

“It’s ok now, just breathe. In and out. Ain’t nothing going to happen to you while I’m here. Easy Hughie, in and out.”

He began taking exaggerated breaths and Hughie tried to match them with unsuccess, time disappeared and was filled with Hughie taking in shuttering breaths to match MM’s exaggerated ones with occasional praises from the medic about how Hughie was doing.

Finally oxygen was reaching it’s necessary locations in his body and Hughie realized he was sitting on the floor. He glanced around the room wide eyed, searching for something but even Hughie didn’t know what he was looking for.

MM had lowered his hands and gave the man a small smile, “there we go. Now, I’m going to grab you some water ok?”

Hughie gave a jerky nod and as MM rose to retrieve said water, he wondered where the rest were. Though he mainly wondered were Butcher had stalked off to after his brief appearance. MM made sure he was noticed before he crouched in front of him, every move was steady and easy for the shaken man to be able to track.

When he held out the water bottle Hughie thanked him, though he knew that his words were likely to jumbled for the other to understand when even he, the man speaking couldn’t understand what words escaped his lips.

It wasn’t until Hughie was reaching out to grab the bottle that he realized how badly his hand was shaking and he needed both hands to even grip the plastic. He took two sips under MM’s watchful eye before setting it down now to him, most likely making sure the man didn’t drown while trying to drink.

Hughie had calmed down from his earlier moment of panic, but now fear had replaced the panic that consumed him.

“What- “

He cleared his throat in hopes that the other words he had to say would come out less cracked.

“What’s the plan?”

MM rose an eyebrow at the question and Hughie wished he would just rip the band-aid off and tell him already. Explain to him how they were going to finish him and what they would do with the pieces, logically Hughie knew his true corpse would most likely resemble Translucants’s remains.

“So far the plan is to stay low, figure some things out before putting together a real plan on how to take care of SB.”

Despite MM not saying the full name, Hughie still flinched and saw those hazel eyes staring absolutely bored over his whole existence. MM didn’t say anything but was watching Hughie intently after discussing the groups plan of action, no matter how flimsy it currently sounded.

“No, I mean- What’s the plan for me? How are you going to-“

Hughie couldn’t finish the question. The words got trapped in his throat, stuck around the thick blood that was creeping ever forward. His chest felt tight once again.

MM wasn’t looking at him now but when he did look at Hughie his eyes displayed his inner distress, “Hughie man, we ain’t going to kill you.”

Hughie felt a sudden burst of hysteria.

“Don’t lie to try and protect my feelings MM. I fucking died alright?! Yet here I am! I’m a godamn Supe and who the fuck knows what powers I have. You, Frenchie and Kimiko may learn to be ok with that but Butcher-. He stared at me like I was a monster and I’m with him on that one.”

MM’s face morphed into a scowl, he obviously wanted to fight everything Hughie had said but instead he bit his tongue, and he shook his head.

“Almost everything you just said was bullshit man, and you need to listen close when I say that no matter what you can do it’ll never make you a monster.”

Hughie believed that MM believed his own words, but that didn’t change the fact he was a Supe in a relationship with a man who hated Supes more than anything. Personally he would rather everything that was going to happen, happen now rather than waiting for months for the other shoe to drop.

When it did Hughie doubted there’d be much left of him anywhere- and oh god his father.

“Ok, ok. Look MM you need to promise me something.”

The man gave him a long look before sighing, “I won’t promise anything ‘till I hear what it is. I learned my lesson a long time ago with Butcher.”

Hughie nodded and took a steading breath before he went forward.

“Look when I die for real and permanently, however that works. You have to give my dad an actual body to bury. I don’t care if Frenchie fixes up a mannequin, he won’t look that close once he thinks it’s me, but he needs a place to actually mourn at. I don’t- he can’t spend the rest of his life waiting for me to come home, he doesn’t deserve that.”

Somewhere in Hughie’s youth he developed an intense fear of going missing, not just because of what it meant for Hughie and the whole human trafficking thing. Mainly the fear surrounded what effect it would have on his father.

Hughie’s mother walking out the door and dissolving into the mist had crushed a large part of the man’s soul. If his son were to do the same, it would destroy whatever was left of Hugh.

MM looked at him with a hard expression before he let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, I promise.”

Hughie let out a breath of relief, at least his father would find some semblance of peace though he knew it wouldn’t ease the pain. MM was staring at him again and Hughie gave him a weak smile, which caused the man to shake his head and stand up.

“I don’t know what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours, but I can tell you it’s way off.”

Hughie let out a small huff of laughter, and MM looked down with an odd expression.

“Now first of all, don’t panic. Butcher has something he wants to say to you. We’ll all be in the other room just in case things go south, but you should hear him out.”

Instantly Hughie’s heart picked up, thrumming adrenaline throughout his body by the mere idea of the man glowering down at him. However, MM looked so assured that everything would be alright that Hughie could only nod numbly.

He already had the man’s assurance that his father would have proper closure, Hughie couldn’t very well demand more from the group after unintentionally fooling them for however long he had compound V running through his veins.

MM leaned down to clasp Hughie’s shoulder and giving a reassuring squeeze, before nodding one last time and leaving the room.

Hughie stared at the suspiciously stained floor underneath of him, looking for answers about what he was or even just a purpose for all that he had been through meant. He heard a door open, heavy footstep pausing just briefly in the doorframe before the door creaked shut.

For many people being so close to an inevitable demise would act as a chance to confirm their faith or find a new. Any other person would be considering their fate, trying to make amends with everything that they had done wrong and begging for forgiveness.

Yet all Hughie could think of was memories his mother’s smile as she prompted a dance to a Billy Joel song. His father who had been through agony but still tried to stay approachable for his son, and who tried to maintain a bond with Hughie.

Robin who made him feel alive and like a human for the first time in his life, who cracked his shell wide open and let him experience how fun everything could be. Kimiko who was often so closed off but still learned ASL with him, she figured it long before he did but took the time to help him along so they could talk freely.

Frenchie would always call him petite and smile like he was legitimately happy to see him every time the pair met up. It didn’t matter if it had been days since Hughie saw him or just hours, the man always seemed excited to see him alive.

Mother’s Milk was a mother hen, always pestering Hughie about how much he was eating or sleeping, all with concern hidden firmly under a strong exterior.

Annie, who he now considered his closest and best friend. She would be the angriest towards Butcher when the man figured out how to kill a Lazarus Supe, with any luck they wouldn’t kill each other in the fallout of the reveal.

Finally Billy, who hated Supes as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. Perhaps it was the thing keeping him alive, allowing him to survive things that no mortal could have lived through.

Hughie could remember Billy’s arms around him, pulling him firmly against his body whether it was when they were wrapped together post cotial, or in the early morning when Butcher woke up long before he did and held the younger man tightly.

He could hear Billy whispering in his ear how the man would keep Hughie safe, no matter the cost. Finally, he could see Billy staring down at him with a look of pure despair as he watched Hughie bleed out.

Hughie knew that the despair was driven out of his apparent death and that considering what he was now that he would be lucky beyond belief if Butcher would even look at him without animosity.

His gaze kept firmly onto the floor until dark clothed legs stepped in front of him, familiar boots filled his vision and despite his best-efforts Hughie’s breath still caught in his chest. Hughie watched as dark legs bent and Butcher was kneeling in front of him, but kept his eyes away from the older mans face.

It wasn’t until Butcher let out a breath that could be mistaken for a sigh that Hughie braved a look at the other man. Butchers face was tight, every stress line was exasperated, and his lips were pulled together.

Butcher’s jaw worked for a long few moments before he looked back up, “alright lad just hear me out.”

[rightintheguts]

A Girl Borne of a Trickster

Alright, I finally cave and decided to post my Vikings fanfic here (Gods help me). I’ve already posted this on AO3, but I’m currently in the process of re-writing it; so here’s the re-written first chapter.

Pairings: Ivar x Original Female Character

Warnings: Blood, Minor Original Character Death.

Summary: Living within a small hamlet off the coast of North Umbria, Marian’s world as a whole is both small, and boring. She feels out of place, like a snowstorm during the middle of Summer; a girl of ten, that asks too many questions, and dreams of things that many deem ridiculous and unbelievable. Though she wished it wasn’t so, she knew she would be resigned to this small world till the end of her life. Or, so she had believed.

Chapter One: Thurisaz; Danger, Suffering

A firm slap to her hand, startled Marian back to awareness; she took in her still hands, thread and needle held carelessly, before meeting her mother’s reproachful glare. Taking in the older woman’s pinched expression, Marian could only offer up a weary apology before starting anew with her given task.

“Don’t get lost in your head now: focus.” irritation practically dripped from her mother’s lips, though Marian wouldn’t hold it against her. This had been the fifth time in a row that Marian had gotten distracted, and her mother’s patience ran only so much. She couldn’t help it, honest; sleep had chosen to allude her for the past two weeks, ever since her monthly cycles had first started.

 Her mother had been a touch surprised, not having expected her daughter to bleed until another summer had gone by, possibly two. But, of course this just had to be another thing that Marian was left out in; from what she could pry from other girls her age, they hadn’t started theirs yet. Marian hated her cycles, they were painful and messy; but what she hated the most, was the recurring nightmare that came with it.

That was the main reason Marian was unable to catch a moment's rest; she had believed that it would end once her cycle had, but alas, it still continues to harass her. So, she tried to avoid sleep all together, with the result being her current exhausted state. Marian tried telling her mother, even going into detail of the contents of her nightmare, but all she had done was give Marian a fearful look, and told her never to speak of it again. Her mother even went in-so-far as to drag her to the village’s small chapel and ordered her to pray for her soul. So, Marian hadn’t bothered to bring it up again; keeping her mouth shut, and suffered in silence for her mother’s peace of mind.

A sharp exhale had Marian, once again, snapping out of a daze; tired eyes once again meeting her mother’s glare and tight face. Her mother snatched the sad excuse for embroidery from Marian’s limp hands, before barking at her, “Go feed the chickens!”

Marian refrained from reminding her mother that they had just recently done so, and instead took the opportunity her mother had given her. Marian stumbled her way out of their humble abode, and made her way towards the chicken coop, a bag of feed in her scrawny arms. After entering the flimsy structure, and tossing a handful of feed onto the grimy floor, Marian found herself yawning; her eyes turning heavy with sleep. 

She tried fighting off the creeping sensation of slumber, but found she no longer had the will to. After finding a slightly cleaner spot, with few chicken droppings and a decent amount of hay, Marian made herself comfortable before stilling and blinking drowsily. ‘I’ll just rest my eyes.’

Sleep, Min Sol. The Voice had returned; another thing that had plagued her mind, aside from the nightmare. Though where she feared the dream, the Voice was more of a comfort then anything; something she had also withheld from her mother, lest the woman start assuming witchcraft. 

Though she had, at first, tried blocking out the Voice she was never able to hold out. So, though Marian once again attempted to fight off the lulling command, she was unsuccessful; and with that failure, she found herself slipping into sweet oblivion.

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Marian was shocked awake by a blood curdling scream. Sleep still had it’s claws at the edges of her mind, but she quickly rid herself of them when another scream, this one much more closer, rang out through the air. Feathers flew through the stale air, as Marian scrambled from the floor, startling the roosting chickens, and towards the slanted entrance of the coop.

WAIT. The Voice stopped her, leaving her frozen in place, hand midway towards the worn door. Marian found herself holding her breath, waiting for the Voice to say anything else, but her attention was quickly drawn to the sound of her mother screaming her name.

“MARIAN! Run! Run away---” Her mother’s voice caved in on itself, which urged Marian to peek through one of the holes that littered the walls of the chicken pen. What she saw, had a sob ripping out of her tight throat. 

A hulking figure stood just behind her mother; rugged, fair-haired and with a nauseous amount of blood covering his left side: Marian knew instantly that not a drop of it was the man’s. The sight of the stranger wasn’t what terrified her; no, what caused her burning tears was the sight of his sword plunged through her mother’s gut.

A sense of sharp deja vu gripped her; she’s seen this, she’s dreamed this for the past fortnight.

 ‘No, this is just a dream! A horrible dream!’ Marian thought, but she knew deep down that it was no longer a dream, and that she was wide awake for this horror. With a gasping breath, her mother fell upon the dusty earth, clutching her split stomach with trembling fingers. With a rough kick, the hulking man sent Marian’s mother fully onto the ground, limp body strewn about like a burlap doll. Then, with a satisfied sneer, the man surveyed the surrounding area, no doubt trying to find her now.

 Marian could see his mind working behind his dark eyes; there had to be something out here, otherwise, why else would the woman run out to a dead end? 

She clapped her dirty hands to her tear-stained face, desperately trying to hold back her racking sobs as she kept an eye on the foreigner; watching as he scanned halfheartedly, before losing interest once he was met with only startled livestock and farm equipment. He eventually turned to leave, idly swinging his stained sword. But before Marian could breathe a sigh of relief, her luck ended when upon shifting her weight, the old wood chose that moment to give out. 

With an audible crack, her right foot fell through the floor, and a scream tore through her throat as the split wood gouged her leg. Immediately after, Marian heard face-paced footsteps coming towards her, and panic was quick to set in. That is, until the Voice decided to remind Marian of her nightmare--Vision, Min Sol.

Due to the sudden input, Marian managed to tamper down her dread, and silenced her painful whimpers by the time the stranger ripped open the coop’s door. She couldn’t withhold a spine racking tremble though, when the man’s eyes landed on her dirty, tear-stained face, but she did her best to meet him with a grim look. 

Repeat what I say. The Voice commanded; Marian only swallowed in reply. Just as the man raised his weapon high, Marian opened her mouth.

“Stoppe.” The command fell flat, for her voice was shaking too much; but the man still paused, thick brows furrowing in bafflement. He opened his mouth, but the Voice was already continuing, and Marian was quick in repeating it’s words.

“Hvis du dreper meg,” She began, tongue tripping over the foreign speech, but she saw that she had the stranger’s attention now. “Loki vil jakte deg, til din uunngåelige slutt.” 

Marian saw his grip whiten, and his expression morph into one of abject horror. She was unsure of what she had said, but somehow knew that the words would be heeded. Weapon lowered, the man began scanning her, gaze lingering on her capped head and green eyes. He suddenly reached for her cap and ripped it from her head, startling her so bad she tried leaping away, and was swiftly reminded of her trapped leg.

Hissing in pain, Marian watched the man closely as he took in the hue of her hair. His look of horror melted from his face, replaced by a look of wonder and excitement. The same look from her dream--vision--and Marian found herself still and cooperative when the man reached for her injured leg. With his bare hands, he tore the floor boards apart, and freed her leg; before she could do anything, the stranger grabbed her, and pulled her from the coop. 

Don’t struggle. Marian listened, and continued to cooperate with the man, even as he procured coarse rope to tie her wrists and ankles; even as he slung her over his broad shoulder and strode past her mother’s lifeless body. One last sob wrenched past her lips, as they drew further away from her mother’s still form, and away from the only comfort that life had ever provided her.

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I went for Norwegian, so....and native speakers, if you wish to correct me, go for it.

Translation(s):

(1) My Sun

(2) Stop

(3) If you kill me

(4) Loki will hound you, until your inevitable end