#i mean like i said i don’t know a lot about econ but i have an interest in it despite being super like anticapitalist

[corpus-incorporated]

current frame of mind is i think of everything in stock market terms now. i don’t know jack shit about economics i dont invest in anything but i will be talking about how my stocks are doing all the fucking time. not stocks i own but stocks that are me, the value of the stocks of me the company. which is REALLY funny considering my url here. it’s not just me too if something or someone does well at anything i go OHHHHH X STOCKS ARE SKYROCKETING and if something goes poorly it’s like OHHHHH THE STOCKS ARE PLUMMETING FILE FOR BANKRUPTCY. this is the new it’s jover and we’re so back. this isn’t something that’s gonna catch on though it’ll probably just be this micro joke amongst my friends for a while lol

[rimunagenius]

And They Were Roomates

☙ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

☙ word count: 2.5k words

☙ warnings: RPF!! use of y/n, not proof read.

☙ ri speaks: I need more kate martin content and i haven’t been fed the specific ones that i need so i must write them to the best of my horrendous abilities. Idek how good this will be…im sorry in advance LMFAO. also this is two thousand five hundred words but it looks a lot shorter….crying

this is also a general announcement that i will indeed be refreshing my blog, so that means new and updated master lists and posts are coming out soon so sorry if you get a spam of rimunagenius on your feed!!

Part 1

| Series Masterlist |

When you first started in Iowa, you never expected the immediate love you recieved from the people there. They were friendly, generous, and so much different from people in California. Especially your roommate, Kate Martin. You had met her shortly after your first day of Junior year. A while after, you two became roomates because you needed more space, and she needed someone to split rent with in her apartment. Sounded like a great deal to both of you.

"You don't mind?" You asked unsure. Not wanting to impose on her, possibly ruining plans with making a deal with her actual teammates.

"No! Not at all! I really like you and you're alot of fun! I'd love for you to move in with me." She beamed at you, giving you a side hug when she saw your expression change. You both were ecstatic.

Since then, you had been living with Kate for almost two years. You two had become inseparable. Always on campus together, meeting up between classes to get coffee or lunch together, sometimes with Caitlin and your other friends. It was great. You were happy with your home away from home.

You had transfered from UC Irvine and decided to pursue your degree and career in sports medicine here in Iowa City. You were one of the new athletic trainees and ocassionly a photographer; your previous major was in photography and Lisa and the administration had really loved your resume and work, so they hired you as a part time (barely) photographer, for whenever they wanted more shots than what they usually wanted or a fill in.

Currently, you were needed in the Carver stadium to help record a mic’d up practice session for the team. It was for the Iowa Hawkeye Youtube channel. You had experience because you too had a youtube channel that you started when you first transferred to Iowa. So you had told Lisa and the coaches that you’d be able to film it.

“Hey, Gabbie!” You smiled at her as you walked into the locker room, approaching Kate’s cubby to set your stuff down. Kate telling you this morning before she left that you could put your stuff with hers.

“Hey, girlie! So guess what?” You and Gabbie loved to gossip. It was so much fun and it started when you were redoing the tape on her ankles, and she looked down so you asked her about it, and since then, you both have told eachother whatever gossip you had.

“Oh my god, what?” You took your sweater out of your bag, the locker room being chilly, so you could imagine the court.

“So that boy Nick in my econ class, totally asked about you today. I didn’t want to crush his hopes and dreams but I did say you weren’t his type.” She took a seat next to where you were standing to put her shoes on.

“Wait, the boy I said would so be my type if he was a girl? That Nick?” You laughed because he was really nice and such a sweet guy but he just wasn’t a girl. Men are pretty but only to look at.

“Yes!”

“How’d he take it?” This guy has asked you out once before but you just said you weren’t looking to date. Probably should’ve elaborated on that one.

“But he asked me “Oh, who is? Does he go here?” And I was like,” she paused to reenact the face she made. “I said it too fast so I didn’t have time to say “Oh, It’s long distance or something” sooo I don’t know.” She rambled and just pulled her hair into a small ponytail.

“What do you mean? That made no sense, Gab.” You were confused. She looked guilty of something but you didn’t want to pressure her but you also really wanted to know what she had said about you to Nick.

“I kinda sorta said you had a girlfriend already, and he took that as ‘Oh, she’s dating her roommate Kate Martin’ because he said he supposedly sees you guys together everywhere.” She meant well. It really wasn’t her fault that Nick totally misread the situation.

“Oh shit.” Your jaw dropped. You thought it was awkward but now it went full fledged horrendous. You were already out, and anyone who followed your insta would’ve saw it in your stories, so you weren’t worried about that but you were worried for Kate.

“So what do we do about the fact that a random kid on campus thinks your dating Kate?”

“Ok wait, i’m actually scared. Like how do you think Kate will take it?” You were talking to Gabbie and immediately knew you fucked up by seeing the expression on her face.

“How will I take what?” Kate walked in, hair down, dressed in her practice uniform, and sat on the chair next to you. You hadn’t realized that you sat down with Gabbie. Lost in the conversation and frenzy of the new mess that could possibly affect yours and Kate’s social life dramatically.

“I’m just gonna…” Gabbie got up, and walked out, meeting the others outside on the court.

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you in a minute.” You said to the girl before turning to Kate. You had caught her up on the lore behind you and Nick, if you could even call this one sided infatuation lore. Now you just had to tell her the problem. “So Gabbie tried to tell him that I was already seeing some girl. But Nick jumped to this whole conclusion that me and you were together.”

You watched her face. Looking for any sort of negative reaction. Waiting for her to blow up on you. “Oh.”

“And when Gabbie tried to say it wasn’t you and that were just friends, and that my supposed girlfriend lives in California, he got up and left. So it may be possible that the whole Iowa college campus will assume we’re together.” You played with your fingers as you watched her some more. Still waiting for her explosion.

“I mean, I don’t mind. He sounded weird so if it keeps the guy away from you, i’m okay with being the ‘pretend’ girlfriend.” She shrugged her shoulders. Grabbing her shoes from behind you, your chair sitting right infront of the cubby that belonged to her:

“Kate. Are you sure? This is so random and so strange and I would totally get it if your uncomfortable.” You wanted it to be clear that this situation could go away if she was uncomfortable. If she was uncomfortable you’d go on a date with him and just tell him it won’t work after. It’d be bad for you if he goes around saying rude things but you couldn’t care less about people you don’t know. You just wanted to make sure Kate wasn’t the one feeling weird.

“Yeah, I mean—I don’t have to kiss you in public, right? I feel like that’s overstepping a boundary we have not thought about setting.”

“No, Kate. You do not have to kiss me in public. Wait so you’d kiss me in private?” You looked at the girl, now fully joking around as you wiggled your eyebrows and laughed.

“Oh yeah for sure.” Kate made a funny face while nodding her head before grabbing her water and standing up. You following behind to get this practice and video recording started.

“Oh, and your getting mic’d up today. I don’t know if Coach Lisa told you.” You say as you both walk onto the court.

You and Kate had showered, separately unfortunately, and sat on the couch. You had been trying to convince her the whole way home from practice to watch New Girl. She agreed after ten excruciating minutes of your nagging.

You were deciding to pick the snack you wanted, grabbing M&Ms you bought at the store yesterday, snickers, chips, and popcorn. You wanted to watch as many episodes as possible because you both started school late tomorrow and it was an off day for practice.

“What are these practices anyways? Are they like preseason workouts to get back in shape or?” You watched Kate as she picked her snacks.

“Yeah. Basically. We’re technically only allowed to goof off a little during those ones.” Kate laughed, referring to the mic’d up practice today. Coach Lisa usually wants a more focused and intimate space during the actual season. “Oh my. What if we just kill this whole tub of Neapolitan ice cream?” Kate took it out of the freezer and suddenly all your snack choices went back to the cabinets.

“Ou deal, Martin.” You grabbed two spoons before making your way to the couch. Grabbing the blanket off the backrest, and throwing it over you both. You both settled and got comfy ready to start the marathon of New Girl.

You were both sitting in silence after you decided to just do a highlight reel of episodes since you weren’t going to force Kate to watch multiple seasons. "Are you excited for this upcoming season? Your last season?" You asked as you looked to your right. Kate was seated next to you while you both decided to disregard bowls and just eat the ice cream straight from the tub. She held the tub as you both dug what you wanted out of it. She shoved more ice cream into her mouth and she smiled and nodded her head.

"I am. Just scared and sad." She said somewhat incoherently due to not having swallowed the mouthful of ice cream. You nodded your head. You had already adapted to the Kate language. When she talked while yawning, mouth full, her body language, and her facial expressions. Not many people were fluent like you, and you were actually proud to be one of the people. So you understood exactly what she meant. You saw everything else she was feeling just by the look in her eye and the shape of her lips.

But you also felt sad for her too. You’d both be a sixth-year, grad students, in a couple months. This year bigger for her more than you. This year being her last and final run in her collegiate career. This was huge. You both knew this but wanted to focus on the nicer aspects. You and the girls would support her and be her friend even if she decided to never touched a basketball again. You guys were for life.You didn’t play, so you felt there was nothing you thought you could say other than just being her friend.

"You'll be okay, sweetheart." You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. A small comforting hug, atleast a hug at which this position provided, and kissed the top of her head. You only used terms of endearment like this in small, comforting, intimate moments. You felt this was the right time. "I'll be here for you, and you have the girls. We’ll back you in whatever you do, outside of basketball and school. You can’t ever get rid of us if you tried. But I will give you all the support and all the ice cream you can eat right now." You smiled at the blonde. You both stared at eachother, a little too long, “We are not beating the supposed ‘girlfriend’ allegations right now, Martin.” She bursted out laughing. You not far behind.

"But seriously, thanks shortie." She said as she patted your knee, right before she lost it again and laughed out loud. You immediatey cringed at the name, and pushed her away from you.

"OH! my god! Immediately no, Kate." You laughed again, half embarassment and half amusement. "That is not funny. You sound like a frat boy." That earned another snort laugh from Kate.

"You're right. I'm sorry." You side-eyed her. Pulling the blanket a little closer to you. Scooting over the tiniest bit over to feign anger and hurt. Still managing to catch her movement through your peripheral.

"Bro, I'm not even that much shorter than you. Just short three inches." You rolled your eyes at your best friend, turning back to the episode where Jess and Nick kiss eachother for the first time. Your favorite episode.

"Yes, I know. I know how you feel about my short jokes. I almost cried when you ignored me for three and a half days." Kate chuckled as she looked to you her smile dropping, a frown forming when you still didn't acknowledge her. "Oh, come on, y/n. Don't ignore me again, please! I was kidding." She asked you while chuckling nervously, she asked you two more times, when that didn’t work she insisted on poking you for a two minutes straight.

"Okay, Kate. I forgive you. Now shush, my favorite part is coming up." You kept your eyes on the screen and tried to reach for your spoon in the tub. Your fingers reaching everywhere but your spoon. "Kate can you help me please?"

"Yes, but haven't you already seen this show like eight-billion times?" She grabbed a spoon, whichever one was closest, forgetting which one was which, and scooping a good spoonful, before bringing the spoon to your mouth. "Open." You opened your mouth and took the ice cream happily.

"Thank you, you big teddy bear. God's gift, I'm telling you." You said as you watched the best scene on sitcom TV about to unfold.

"Im just going to pretend you're talking about me and not your show." Kate whispered. "You're welcome, pretty." She said louder so you could hear.

That got your attention. It wasn’t something that you hadn’t heard come out of her mouth and directed to you before; she's called you pretty multiple times when you had asked if the outfit you were wearing out looked good or if the makeup you put on was good for this dinner a girl you were seeing on and off wanted to take you out to. But she's never once used it in this context. You got a nervous feeling in your stomach, something you recognized as butterflies for sure. Fighting the urge to smile at the compliment, a small blush creeping up on your cheeks. Fighting the thoughts you had about her.

It was something new but this one thing…this you weren't going to get used to. You guys were best friends and just roomates. You can't feel anyway about this.You decided to ignore it and take it as a compliment in the moment to make up for the short joke. It definitely wasn’t something serious as you were making.

"I was talking about both of you. The TV and you, Kit-Kate." You put your arm around her shoulder and continued to watch the show. Watching the scene you had been waiting for all night to play. “This was the best cinematic experience I have ever had.” You whispered, now reaching for the spoon again for some ice cream.

Kate beating you to it, already having got another spoonful for you, feeding it to you like she did a couple of seconds ago. You smiled and thanked her before you both decided to cut the show, and search for a movie of both your choosing this time.

[jaemified]

world of my own - kwon soonyoung

track 001 - “you ever wonder what couldve happened if what hadnt happened, happened?”

pairing ; best friends kwon soonyoung x fem reader

genre ; romance, (kinda?) angst, unreciprocated love, starcrossed lovers, right person wrong time, multiverse, very very VERY vaguely inspired by alice in wonderland (and kindaa in a way wandavision)

warnings ; swearing, y/n daydreams a lot, too little too late 😞😞

wordcount ; 1.2k

synopsis ; in a place which you fall into your own dreamland with the one who was meant to be the love of your life, the discussion gets highly theoretical (and not to mention, emotional)

note - counterfactual thinking whoo cz im minoring in econ wooo

read below the cut !

youd be lying if you said you hadnt thought of him in that way.

i mean, how could you not?

kwon soonyoung. he’s perfect inside and out. such a sweetheart, kindest person you’d ever met.

but, he had been rather distant lately.

it was almost a miracle he reached out to you.

of course, you were curious as to why, especially since it was so out of the blue. but you held your tongue.

so, he called you out to your favorite park, sitting under the big willow tree you two always spent the summers under when you were much younger, counting the stars and watching the hours tick by.

the tree was so old now, seeing as it had been around long before both of your guys’ parents were.

soonyoung jumped up from his spot to greet you with a nice hug, “glad you came.” he said as he pressed his lips into a smile.

“course i did. we’re meant to stay together arent we?”

he sat down on the blanket which lined up with the old tree trunk, resting his back up against it.

a few moments of silence passed before you spoke up.

“why did you call me here?” you queried as you examined the tree, brushing your fingers over the now faint initials both you and soonyoung carved into the trunk.

“just wanted to spend time with you, genuinely. i know ive been distant and i can’t make up for the time wasted, but i can end the pattern now, you know.”

“id doubt you’d call me here of all places just to ‘talk’.” you scoffed.

“just missed you is all.” he mumbled as he pulled you into a side hug, letting his head rest in the space between your shoulder and neck.

“missed you too. more than youd realize.” you replied back, keeping the last bit to yourself.

though you grew distant despite being inseparable until two years ago, you could never grow a grudge against him.

so you thought.

but, here you two were. spending the day talking under that same tree just like how you spent most of your childhood.

you caught each other up through a recap of your last few years, until sundown, when soonyoung asked of a pretty theoretical question.

“you ever wonder what couldve happened if what hadnt happened, happened?”

you stared blankly at him, blinking mindlessly.

you were still like that for a good few seconds, before muttering a quick “what?”.

“do you ever think about what couldve happened if things were different between us?” he rephrased.

“oh. as much as id hate to admit it, i do. or did. imagining about what could and couldnt be. but the past is in the past, and what happened can’t be undone.” you explained to soonyoungs curious eyes.

“what did you imagine we could’ve been?” he asked so nonchalantly, with little to no hesitation required.

“what?”

“in a world where things worked out, what couldve happened to you and me?” soonyoung asked once more.

“i..” you droned off.

“you don’t have to answer now,” he began with a soothing voice, “just think about it. and tell me what happens when we wake up.”

with that, soonyoung laid his back directly onto the ground with his folded up sweater to act as a pillow.

he pulled you to rest on his chest, wrapping an arm tight around your waist.

you tried getting up, only to be pulled back down. “soonyoung..”

“please? stay with me just this once.”

“i have to go.”

“just one more time before i have to leave for good? i don’t know when ill get to see you next. i don’t know where we’ll stand after today.”

you sighed in defeat, before sitting back down and resting into soonyoungs chest once more.

“just this once..” you mumbled, before drifting off into your indefinite state of slumber.

“in a world where things worked out, what couldve happened to you and me?”

soonyoungs words continuously ran across your mind, coursing through your thoughts endlessly, even in your sleep.

you were always quite the heavy sleeper, it was no wonder your dreams were always so realistic you slept the way you did.

you were much aware of the multiverse, as was soonyoung. the topic alone always intrigued you, the possibility of endless scenarios playing out in your mind; and the fact they could be real, yet only in another universe

the thought of dreaming in this world while being awake in another terrified you, but intriguing in the same sense.

every time you drift off into an indefinite slumber, you realize how much you’ve taken for granted in life after seeing the cruel reality thats shown only through dreams, watching your greatest desires be taken out of your reach every time you awake.

“in a world where things worked out, what couldve happened to you and me?”

“in a world where things worked out, what couldve happened to you and me?”

the words repeated over an over throughout the duration your dream. a good one, but too vivid, it was almost cruel the feeling you felt once you realized it wasnt real.

you and soonyoung were the perfect couple. you were happy and it seemed nothing could go wrong, you were in a serious, long lasting, and healthy relationship.

everything was perfect, it was everything you could ever ask for and more.

he was everything you could ask for and way more.

you don’t think you’ve ever been so happy.

however, that would only happen in a world of your own.

a world where you could be happy.

[angelinaheartshapedbox]

morbid attraction

Ethan Landry x reader

AU where Stu Macher has an illegitimate child. During Scream 6.

summary: Y/n is a freshman at Blackmore University. They're currently pursuing a bachelor's degree in forensic science to become an autopsy technician. To further their research, and to make money, they pick up shifts as a mortuary assistant. Y/n must come to terms with the trauma of gruesome murders of their hometown, copes with the memories of their ex girlfriend Amber Freeman, and with the fact that their father was a homicidal maniac. Running doesn't get them far from their past as it chases after them into New York City. But maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel. And maybe, just maybe, the light is Ethan Landry.

!!WARNINGS!! graphic descriptions of gore and violence, PTSD, and dealing with trauma. Major content warnings will be placed before each chapter.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Voicemail (5)

I Don't Want To Die

Wordcount: 2k

Content warnings: violence, death, blood, more blood, depictions of gore. ethan did not have econ.

Quinn’s newest man of the evening had arrived, so she went to her room. Sam was upset that she’d invited someone who was basically a stranger to our apartment.

Sam brought out a few blankets and pillows for our friends. I was in the kitchen with Chad, Tara, and Mindy. We were all working to cook dinner.

“Sam, we do not have to stay here,” Mindy told her.

“Welp, too bad. I insist. Safety in numbers” Sam replied.

“This’ll be so fun. A little slumber party with the Alive Five!” Chad exclaimed.

“‘Alive Five’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

Tara stared at him, “Did you just give us a nickname?”

Chad smiled, “I sure did. I mean we’ve been through a lot together and it’s a pretty cool nickname.”

“So true, Chad” I nod.

“That’s debatable,” Sam says.

“Extremely debatable,” Tara adds.

“You can’t just give yourself a nickname, dingus,” Mindy tells her brother.

Chad gives her a shit eating grin, “Of course I can, dingus, because I just did. Alive Five up top!”

“No.”

“Down low!”

Tara shakes her head, “Get that away from me.”

Chad turns to me and Sam with his hand, “Please, for the love of God.”

“Don’t do it,” Mindy laughs.

I obviously give him a high five, laughing evilly as my friends groan. I interlock my fingers with Chad’s and squeeze before letting go.

“You know, I would actually like a little more respect and support from my fellow members of the Alive Five.”

Anika interrupts us, “Guys, what the hell?” She turns up the TV as we file into the living room.

The newscaster starts talking about Sam being the lead suspect in the current murders. He discusses the rumors online about me and Sam being responsible for the killings last year. He said we were trying to “revive our fathers’ legacy” or some bullshit. The video of Sam yelling at that girl on the street the other night played.

Sam turned off the TV aggressively. She walked over to the dining table and sat by herself. Tara and I followed. We sat in silence until Tara spoke.

“I know you’re not a fan of the way that I’ve been handling things, and that I’ve been giving you a really hard time. But I can say that none of us can relate to what you are experiencing. And I’m really, really sorry you have to do that alone.”

Sam stifles tears, “It’s not your fault. And I know I shouldn’t care what people think,” she pauses, “It just sucks being this hated.”

“Hey, hey,” Chad says as he walks into the room with Mindy, “Just a reminder, not a single person in this room hates you.”

“Yeah, Sammy” I agree.

“Okay? We have all been through some fucked-up stuff, and we are coping with it differently. But you know we moved here together for one very specific reason.” Chad reminds Sam, “We’re a team.”

Mindy chimes in, “We are the Alive Fucking Five.”

“Thank you very much!”

“Ah, I hate myself.”

Chad and Mindy high five.

“Say it” I tell Tara.

“No, I’m not gonna say it,” she refuses, “I mean, yes, we are a team but-”

We’re all trying to get Tara to say it and we’re laughing.

Sam interrupts, “I’ve been sleeping with Cute Boy from across the hall.”

It’s quiet.

“Boom!”

We all erupt.

“I knew it, I knew it!”

“You called it.”

“Knew it from the day you had that hickey.”

After we calm down from Sam’s lover, Chad looks at me.

I gave him a suspicious look, “What?”

“Do you have any love affairs to confess?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No?”

“Nothing with our tall, dorky friend?”

“Who may or may not be Ghostface” Mindy mumbles.

I look at the confused, “Ethan?”

“Yes, Ethan!” Chad bangs the table.

“No, I am not sleeping with Ethan!” my voice ups in pitch.

Chad gives me a look, “Hm.”

I argued with him about it. He claimed we’re too cuddly, so I rebudled that I’m cuddly in general. Sam backs me up by mentioning me in her bed last night. Mindy says I was flirting with him at the frat party because we were dancing. I said that I just wanted my friend to have fun. They let it go.

“I feel like we should high five or something,” Tara says.

“The Alive Five high five, please?”

“Don’t call it that.”

We all high five in the middle and interlace our fingers. For a minute I feel safe, I feel okay. It feels like a real family where I belong. Sam’s phone rings and it’s Cute Boy. We make fun of her for a moment and she declines his call. Quinn is heard moaning in the other room.

“Oh, my God, Quinn and her gentleman caller are back at it again” Tara jokes.

We all laugh as the moans and thuds get louder. All of our phones go off. We’ve been airdropped a picture of Quinn being attacked by Ghostface.

“Help! Stop!”

We all jump up from the table and sprint towards Quinn’s room. Chad grabs Tara’s arm and pulls her away before she gets to the door. We all stop and stare. It’s silent.

“Run.”

The door swings open and the killer throws Quinn’s body. Everyone is screaming.

“You guys come on!” Tara screams, running out with Chad. I watched Lucifer run out with them.

The killer slices Mindy’s arm. Anika starts fighting him from the floor. He grabs her by the throat. I watch her as she struggles to breathe.

“Hey, fuckhead!” I scream, kicking him in the side.

I trip over myself and hit the floor. I kick and scurry backwards as the killer crawls towards me. He grips my ankle and pulls me towards him. I kick my legs and shove his face away. He stabs me in my right thigh. I scream in pain and kick him in the face. The force makes him pull the knife out of me and step backwards.

Anika tries to latch onto him again. He grabs her by the throat and pins her to the wall. The knife is plunged into her stomach, he drags and twists it upwards. She cries and shrieks. Sam comes running in with the wooden knife holder and smacks him over the head.

We run into Tara’s room and lock the door. I grab a belt from the floor and a pen. Mindy grips her gaping wound. We remember that the bathroom connects through the rooms. Mindy rushes to close the bathroom door.

“Oh, fuck! That guy’s dead!”

The killer comes running at the door. Sam and Mindy force it shut and deadbolt it. I take the belt and pen and tighten them above my bleeding wound. I’m bleeding a lot. There’s a major artery that I’m worried has been severed. All the while, Mindy and Sam are blockading the door. Anika is practically bleeding out in front of me. We’re all screaming and crying and bleeding.

Cute Boy from across the hall calls out to Sam from the window. She rushes over. He pushes a ladder in between the two windows.

“You three go first. Mindy!” Sam yells.

“What? No. Someone needs to hold the door. I’ll send Y/n and Anika next. Go!” Mindy replies.

The killer bangs on the door. I can tell he’s throwing his whole body weight against the door.

Sam crosses the makeshift bridge as Danny sends words of encouragement.

“We’re losing a lot of blood!” I shout at Sam as I limp to the window.

Anika groans, “Say something more positive!”

Sam makes it across and I pull myself with my upper body across the ladder as fast as I can. I wince and whine, crying harder as my wound drags. I finally made it across. Anika forces Mindy to go next. She gives her one last kiss before crawling across to us.

Anika gets onto the ladder, “Oh, God! I can’t do it!” She slowly crawls.

The killer comes up to the window.

“Anika, you have to move now!”

I scream, “Come on, we got you!”

The killer grabs onto the ladder and shakes it vigorously, Anika shrieks and cries. She keeps trying to crawl as Mindy screams.

“Baby, I don’t want to die!” Anika yelps out. She takes Sam’s hand.

The killer completely knocks Anika off the ladder. She falls. We watch as her head crashes into the dumpster below, then hits the hard concrete. Her skull bleeds onto the pavement. I passed out.

When I come to, I’m in an ambulance. My leg is being stitched up. The EMT sees that I’m awake. The sun is starting to rise.

“Hey, that tourniquet was a good idea” The medic tells me, “You might’ve saved your life.”

I gulped and nodded. I see my friends in the ambulance across from me. They see me too. The medics, police officers, and crime scene investigators litter the place. I overhear multiple indistinct conversations.

I see Ethan duck under the crime scene tape. Chad sees him too.

“Chad?”

Chad rushes over to him. He grabs him by his collar, “Where were you?!”

Ethan is confused, “What? When?”

“Last night!”

I yell, “Chad, stop!”

“I had Econ. You know this!”

“Bullshit, man! You disappear, and my sister almost gets killed!”

“Chad!” I yelp, leaving the ambulance. The medic yells after me. I half-run over to the boys, my stitches tearing. “Chad, it wasn’t him!”

Chad looks at me, “How do you know that, Y/n? ‘Cause he’s your little boy toy? He couldn’t hurt you?”

I grip my thigh and wince, “Oh, fuck. No! Because I kicked that fucker in the fucking face! Ethan doesn’t even have a bruise! And whoever it was definitely has a broken nose.”

Chad lets Ethan go, he walks away.

I moan, using both my hands to squeeze my thigh. I start to cry and crumble to the floor.

Ethan grabs me, “Oh, fuck. Th-that’s a lot of blood. Oh, my God. Y/n!”

He helps me back over to the ambulance where they have to re-stitch me. I sob and hiss in pain. Ethan sits next to me. I grab his hand and squeeze it with all of my strength.

“Fuck!” I scream. I clench my teeth, my breath ragged. I sound like a kicked puppy. The adrenaline has worn off and now I’m just in agony.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Ethan whispered.

I couldn’t speak in anything but jumbled sobs. The medic was done stitching me, but I was still weeping. Ethan softly shushes me, pulling himself closer. I gulp and breathe heavily.

I looked into his eyes, “Ethan, it was so scary.” I wrap my arms around myself and fall forward onto him. His arms place themselves around me and I cry into his chest. “Oh, my God, they’re dead!”

“You’re okay,” he says softly, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to die.”

Ethan pulls back slightly, “Hey, look at me.” His hand meets my cheek, his thumb wipes tears. “You’re not going to die.” His tone is suddenly serious.

I shake my head, “You don’t know that.” I look at the ground and let more tears fall.

“I said look at me,” Ethan adjusts my face to look at him.

I tremble in his fingers. His eyes meet mine. He looks at me with the harshest expression I’ve ever seen on him. He puts his other hand on my face and says:

“Anyone who tries to kill you is dying first.”

previous next

masterlist

a/n: tehe i like this one

[realtalk-princeton]

Incoming frosh here. Not sure what I want to major in, but math, econ, and possibly ORFE. I liked HS math a lot, but don't even want to try placing out of MAT 103-104 because it was virtual and I wouldn't be confident going into higher level math courses with what I feel is a weak foundation. What would my schedule look like after that if I wanted to pursue math? I think (??) I'd have to do 215-217 as a soph, and then all eight department reqs in 2 years, which seems kind of terrible??

Latios:

yeah… the ”215-17 soph year, then 8 departmentals in 2 years + junior IW + thesis” would be pretty terrible. (almost as if the course progression in the math department is very unwelcoming towards those without a lot of prior background.) if you want to major in math, one option to avoid this is to take whichever 10X/20X math class would be most comfortable for you freshman fall, while aiming to take 217 freshman spring. this might sound kind of scary, and it would definitely be A LOT of work and time. however, 217 does not actually require 215 as a prerequisite (linear algebra and intro real analysis are independent). i believe 217 follows Axler’s book (which is very readable with minimal background) pretty closely, so maybe you could read the first bit of that beforehand (or even now!) you could also go for 204 (which isn’t full on proof-based like 217 but covers more of the theory than 202, i think) freshman spring. one relevant fact is that not all the departmentals strictly need you to have taken 215-17 (even if it might say that on the course catalog, you could probably just take the class): combinatorics, intro graph theory, topology come to mind. if you don’t feel comfortable taking 217 as a freshman, you could go for 215-17 + two departmentals (one each semester) soph year. and taking 215 soph fall would open up lots of analysis options for a soph spring departmental in addition to 217. but if this sounds worse than 217 as a freshman, i’d point you to doing 217 freshman spring. like you said, you *really* don’t want to be doing 2 departmentals every semester on top of independent work in junior and senior years.

also: how familiar are you with what a proof is/how to prove something? because it is a TERRIBLE idea to take 215 or 217 without knowing what it means to write a mathematical proof. if you aren’t familiar with proofs, any math you’d learn in any math class here with number at least 214 will feel very different than the math you’ve learned, which can be a difficult/confusing change in mindset. as for what you should do now: maybe look at an intro analysis/linear algebra book, some ones people like are Axler, Treil (linear algebra), Rudin, Spivak, Pugh (analysis)? a book like the ones mentioned would prepare you well for the content covered in 215/17, along with introducing you to theoretical math in general if you aren’t yet comfortable with proofs. (BUT! imo the best way to start learning theoretical math is through ”problem solving” like material; see stuff like AoPS resources, Zeitz’s Art and Craft, The Book (more difficult). these things are also a lot of fun!)

good luck OP, hope this is helpful! feel free to ask any questions about math here anytime if you have any.

[therehereeverywhere]

Jakarta.

After 4 long years.

I am now part of the esteemed division in my company, where the self-proclaimed “the smartest” people are. It doesn’t make sense at all if you ask me. I guess I have always been a social science kind of person, only didn’t know how what exactly that is before my master. My biggest takeaway from my master is the profound love of development econ that I found there, a whole world of wonder that quench my thirst.

I have always thought economics is too cold, too unfeeling. It talks about efficiency and market allocation as if it’s not affecting real human, who are suffering in the name of efficiency. The invisible hand who suspiciously favours those who could give more to it, well, to be fair, it is called the invisible hand, not the just hand. I’m so fed up with people glorifying models, as if it holds the answer to all social questions, which I can tell you 100000%, it doesn’t.

So being part of crème de la crème in this very distinguish institutions doesn’t bring joy to me, at all. I find it lacks the stimulating discussions, and a lot more backstabbing and office politic intricacy, which I detest to the core of my cell. The work I did here is not even half of what I had to do back in my previous dept or Bali, but the people, oh God, the people.

I keep telling everyone I don’t belong here, and they brought out the fact that I graduated from the top 3 econ school in the world, of course I belong here. But see, Hercules did all the tasks given to him, and he was granted the status of demigod. But eventually (at least in the Disney version), he realized he doesn’t belong in Olympus, his realm is down in the foot of the mountain. The same is true for me. Just because one is capable or deserving, doesn't mean one belongs.

I was also, absolutely horrified when the head of my division suggested months ago for us to do a charity as part of the social outreach. That’s when he said, let’s find the poorest, most broken down orphanage so that it would be good for us. Like, WTF?

Why does gratefulness have to be a zero-sum game, where in order for one to be grateful the other must suffer? Why can’t we feel grateful for the sake of gratefulness itself?

Don’t even let me start on the whatever blueprints I am working on. Blueprints for digitalisation in payment system: for an inclusive future. But nowhere in that blueprint talks about those at the bottom 40%, who couldn’t even afford to save, let alone purchasing a phone. Their cognitive ability is so overwhelmed by the various problems they need to solve, limiting them to see beyond today. When I raised this issue, the answer is that well, it would be inclusive for those already fit the basic assumption but still not benefiting from them. I laughed. How dare we say an “inclusive” future when our definition of inclusive itself is already exclusive?

If there in one thing that I could say I detest the most, it’s hypocrisy. And now I become part of the machine. What a world. 

[izzy-b-hands]

Lil Boss/Gat set sometime in sr2, with one of my bosses (Ellis, trans and queer and so dumb but he tries so hard. Shame it rarely works out for him.)

---

“And I’m just sayin’ sometimes my life flashes before my eyes when you take a right on red,” Johnny scoffs. “Don’t be a little bitch about it.”

Ellis narrows his eyes. “I am not being a little bitch about it.”

“Road.”

“I’m not!”

“Boss, look at the fuckin’ road!”

Johnny’s hand yanks the steering wheel over, and they veer back into their lane.

“I don’t drive that badly,” Ellis insists. “But I sure do when you grab the motherfucking wheel!”

“Your ass was turned entirely to the side to talk to me!”

"I'm working on my eye contact and shit, you know that!"

"Not while driving you fucking aren't!"

Ellis fumes and glares down the road. "Fine then."

"What?"

They screech into the nearest Freckle Bitch's parking lot, and Ellis stomps out of the car.

"You drive."

"Nah, come the fuck on-"

"I'm not driving us to the crib now; you do it or we walk."

Johnny growls and awkwardly lifts himself over the small center console in the Eiswolf. "You couldn't have driven a better car to have this tantrum in?"

"First off, this is Julius' Eiswolf so you'd best believe I will drive this thing into the ground just to spite his dead ass," Ellis scoffs. "And second off, you could have gotten out and walked around."

"Well, look who's full of fucking solutions today."

"Could keep me full of something else and keep me quiet in one go."

Johnny settles into the driver's seat and shakes his head. "You can't offer to blow me whenever we argue."

"Honestly, it's not a solution to the arguing anymore, I've just...pavloved myself a bit."

"What, you get horny whenever we so much as sorta argue?"

He slams the car door shut and rests his arm on the rolled down window. "I think I might need to see your theory of this in action."

"You sound like my old Econ professor from Stilwater U."

"And you said he was one of the best fucks of your life."

"Up until he failed me, yeah," Ellis says as he finally comes around to the flop down in the passenger seat. "But that wasn't the sex; I just hated the subject."

"I saw your notes," Johnny chuckles and puts the car in gear. "I remember, trust me. Half the damn time you just doodled Saints logo ideas."

"And as a result our current tag and logo are amazing," Ellis smirks. "You're welcome."

"You're an idiot."

"Says the man taking us back towards Aisha's place instead of towards the crib."

"We could go hang out in the sex dungeon tunnel instead," Johnny offers. "Pierce has probably got things under control."

"That's so sweet to say, and almost definitely wrong."

It's a short drive to Mourning Woods Cemetery, and an even shorter walk down into the tunnel.

"Always so many dead guys," Ellis sighs and sneaks around the edge of a coffin sticking out of the dirt wall.

"Motherfucker, that's like going outside and complaining about bugs. They were there first!"

Ellis giggles and sighs and drops down onto a semi-clean mattress. "Fair enough. Get over here and critique my driving some more."

"Now that's a hell of a pick up line," Johnny flops down beside him. "On that note, can I ask why you think driving on the train tracks will get us anywhere faster?"

"It's above the traffic, and there's way less trains on them than there are cars on the road," Ellis shrugs. "Yeah, you gotta be prepared to give the trains right of way, and sometimes that means driving off the overhead tracks onto the cars below. We're all just trying to get where we're going."

Johnny pulls him close and kisses his forehead. "They should really revoke your license."

"I never actually got it to begin with. I just told Pierce I did so he'd let me drive him around as needed."

"I love you so fuckin' much."

[kimthwariru]

Namjoon reaction—calling him a ‘friend’ when he clearly has a thing for you

❀genre: smut, a bit of fluff

❀collage au

(This was originally supposed to be a quick reaction but something happened to me and I couldn’t stop writing)

“Look, Jisoo, I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong” you flash a cheeky smile at your best friend. She’s being going on and on about how this Kim Namjoon guy had a thing for you.

You can’t lie, you’ve seen him around in campus and sometimes you’d wish he would suffocate you with these thighs of his. Ugh. The perfect combo, lean yet masculine physique with a brain that actually functions for a change. You’ve seen the way these collage girls were circling him around and you can’t blame them, the guy was a catch.

But he was not your crowd of people. He was outgoing, social and had loads of what you like to call “the lad friends”. You guessed his main activities were partying and getting shitfaced every night.

You’ve talked to him a couple of times. He uses the same bench as you to read now and then. You would eventually take sneak peeks at the books he was reading, check if he had any taste or not, and the result was always better than what you expected. This guy knew books. He was not just reading what was on the best seller’s that week to look sophisticated in front of others.

When he caught you peaking he’d started having small talk with you. You swear you’ve never experienced a better conversation flow with another human being. This guy screamed comfort. He seemed genuinely curious about the things you were saying. None of that painful act of pretending to be interested just because he wanted to get laid. You had been talking with him for a month straight and aside from a few moments of some what flirty looks his actions never suggested something more.

His aura was welcoming and he always paid attention to the little things. Unlike some other shallow guys out there, he felt…different.

But how different could he really be? You’ve seen the people he hangs out with. Kim Taehyung? He had a relationship with three girls at the same time. Didn’t even apologize for being the biggest jerk in history. You’ve heard Jung Hoseok’s body count was reaching a 3 digit number AND Jeon Jungkook once fucked 4 different girls at the same night.

Just thinking about it makes you sick. It pains you to admit but there’s only one truth to this. Even if Kim Namjoon was interesting, he was definitely a person you needed to stay away from. All the data point to a big fuckboy alert!

“Come on y/n…. If he wasn’t even in the slightest interested in you then why did he tell me explicitly that he wanted you to attend the party??”

“An invitation to a party doesn’t mean anything. Besides, I’m sure I’m not his style. Have you seen the type of girls he hangs out with? Yikes.”

Jisoo smirked at you “Oh, I see you’re stalking him now?”

You shake your head “Don’t be ridiculous! We take Econ together, that’s all. What? Am I supposed to cover my eyes every time I see him?”

“Maybe you should” Jisoo came closer to you “Y/n, we’re going to that party”

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

“This is a big mistake, I’ll get bored within the hour” You scream at Jisoo over the loud music.

“Don’t be a whiney ass and enjoy yourself for once” she handed you a drink.

Enjoy yourself for once. You and Jisoo’s definition of enjoying one self were clearly very different. You scan the room to look for any familiar faces you could talk to. Unfortunately, not a lot of your acquaintances attended frat parties.

Your head motion immediately pauses when you meet eyes with Namjoon across the garden. Was he looking at you this whole time? You feel your cheeks burn.

Initially, you don’t know how to react but eventually you flash him a small smile and focus back on Jisoo

“Kim Namjoon just gave me the biggest stare of all time” you say as you down your drink

“What!?” Jisoo’s eyes widened “This is the time where I say I told you so.”

You think for a second that maybe Jisoo was right all along. But that just makes the whole thing more dangerous for you. You can’t lie, Namjoon is attractive, but you knew he was trouble. Maybe he liked you today and then liked another girl tomorrow.

Suddenly, you feel a hand touch your shoulder “Hey y/n, Jisoo. Glad you guys made it” Namjoon’s low voice pierced your ears.

Jisoo gave you a look before replying to him “Hey!! We couldn’t miss such a night!” She smiled “right y/n??”

“Yeah!! Totally” you cheer kind of awkwardly.

Namjoon’s eyes fixed on you. You felt his stare eat you up. His whole presence felt angelic yet overwhelming. “Do you guys maybe want to join us? We’re sitting right by the pool”

“Oh! Sure, why not!” Jisoo answered almost immediately

You were walking towards the pool, Namjoon was pacing right next to you, he was so close to the point where you could sort of smell his cologne. You swear you could get drunk off his scent.

“I have to be honest, I didn’t think you’d actually come” He chuckled

“Are you disappointed?” You teased and raised an eyebrow.

You see a dimple smile making its appearance, how can this dude be so incredibly hot and cute at the same time? “I think pleasantly surprised would be the right way to put it”

Why do you feel like you can not breath? He hasn’t said much, yet you feel yourself burn up all of a sudden. “Good to know” you smile back.

“Joon! You have to see this” was the first thing Taehyung yelled when you arrived to the place where the guys were sitting “12 o’clock, Hobi making out with Mina from 3rd year. Can you believe it? After two years of trying to get it, he finally succeeds”

Of course the main talk is girls. No surprise there.

“Jungkook bitch, you owe me 20 bucks” Taehyung eyed Jungkook

Your expression screamed disgust. Apparently, Namjoon noticed “They are not as bad as they seem” he elbowed you.

You give him and awkward laugh “I’ll take your word for it” You lie.

“Guys, this is Jisoo and y/n. Can you stop trying to head lock each other and say hello? You’re embarrassing me” Namjoon introduced the pair of you to the boys who were still arguing about the bet. 

“Oh, hey girls.” Taehyung paused to inspect Jisoo’s face. “Hey, business and shipping? Ain’t it?”

“Oh, yeah, right!” Jisoo smiled

“Hyung aren’t you taking that class for like the third time? How many times can you fail you recon?” Jungkook teased him and Taehyung answered by giving him a slap on the shoulder.

“Hey y/n, do you want to go grab a drink? I think you’ll need it if you are to tolerate these guys” Namjoon offered.

“I trust you know best” you smile and quickly follow behind him. His shoulders wide and his muscles very visible even through his airy shirt. This guy was a whole statue.

“By the way, I’ve never seen you at parties before. I think I saw you once at the December ball but that’s about it. Not really a big fan of these kind of things, are you?” He suddenly said. You can’t really decode his words. How did Kim Namjoon know you even went to the December ball? You’re pretty sure you didn’t even talk to him that night.

“Interested in me much?” You give him a cheeky smile but he was just looking at you, a couple of seconds passed without him responding “I’m only joking! It’s true I don’t really attend these sort sort of things.”

“And what do you do for fun miss y/n?” He laughs and you swear if you could bottle the sound and get drunk on it you would.

“Oh you’ll think I’m lame”

“Try me” he said in a serious tone while starring right through your eyes. Suddenly, your body felt too heavy for your legs to bear. How can he get to you like that?

“Okay…” You start, him looking at you like that didn’t help control your train of thought, but you manage to get a hold of yourself “So you know that little corner cafe on willow street? Every Friday they have these comedy music nights. A guy-“

“Park Jihoon and the little funny guitar, yeah! I used to go there every Friday during my freshman years! Do they still do that old thing? I swear the pun with the atom never failed to make my day.” He started laughing again.

“Whoah what? You’re telling me you’ve been to the shrieking shack?” That place was a little treasure you’d found earlier this year. It was an amazingly cozy place, perfect during the cold winter time. The staff were all so kind and wore these big oversized colorful ties. But the people going there were all much older than you. You’ve never heard someone your age talk about that place. Let alone a person like Namjoon.

“Careful how you talk to a veteran y/n. I’ve basically helped to build the place” he chuckled.

“Y/n is that you?” A familiar voice greeted you.

“Jimin! Oh my god, hey! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!” You hug him.

Jimin was a great soul, he majored in contemporary dance and ballet. He had been traveling for the past couple of years enrolling in some extra ballet classes in the magical city of Paris. You envied him for his talent and admired him for his passion.

“Girl, you have to come visit me. You’ll love Europe!”

“I would also LOVE to have some money in my wallet” you laugh “Oh Jimin, this is my friend, Namjoon. We go to collage together”

Namjoon gave you a look and soon after shook Jimin’s hand “What’s up. Nice to meet you”

“Nice to meet you too! But y/n, I’m so so sorry, I have to go. I was actually on my way out just now. I sort of uhm, have a thing-you know” he coughed “I’m leaving in two weeks, can we please meet before that?”

You knew Jimin was probably off to his ex boyfriends house. They broke up before Jimin left for Paris but every time he got back he’d have a couple of hookups with him. “Oh yeah! I bet you’ve got something very important right now, you better go quickly” you teased him “I’ll text you tomorrow, ok?”

Jimin laughed so much his eyes were barely visible “definitely! text me! I’ll be off then! Bye mister Kim Namjoon” he playfully said and was out of your sight a second later.

“You two seem…close” Namjoon suddenly commented

“Yeah! We were! But he has been studying abroad for like two years now.”

Namjoon’s facial expression was quite enigmatic “Did you guys ever… you know”

“Oh no no no.” You pause to make a small chuckle “Jimin isn’t exactly interested in, well, girls like me, or to be exact, girls in general”

Namjoon’s eyes widened and he immediately bursted into laughter “oh… I see” he made a pause “So tell me then, how come the old soul that never goes to parties finally attends one?”

You feel your cheeks burn red. Partly because the reason you went was him. You don’t know why, but the past month you and Namjoon hit it off very well and you wanted to test Jisoo’s crazy theory, you wanted to make sure for yourself if Namjoon was interested in you or not. Now the problem was, even if it turned out he did like you, you didn’t know what you’d do exactly. Namjoon was a really nice guy, but he didn’t come without his red flags.

“Just wanted to try something different, I guess”

“And how’s that 'different' treating you so far?”

What could you possibly tell him? That you have enjoyed every minute you guys have been talking? That you think that just by staring at you he could make you feel things no other guy could? You barely can admit all of that to yourself. “I think pleasantly surprised is the right way to put it” you repeat his words from before.

You see him smile at that. “You know what y/n? I’m really happy you came”

How can he make your heart beat so fast with just one sentence? “Oh really? And why is that?”

“I don’t know, I guess… I just like talking to you, you know? Whenever I’m around you I feel at ease, like I can tell you anything. I feel different when I’m with you, but in a good way”

“Wow” that sound escaped your lips without your consent

Namjoon laughed “Why? Is it too weird?”

“No! Definitely not weird, more like, I don’t know, surprising?”

“In what way?”

“Well you’re… Kim Namjoon, you’re the 2021 class president and you’re like the most popular guy in the whole campus right now.” You made a pause “And I’m just..-“

“The most interesting girl I’ve ever met” he cuts you off

The way he was looking down at you made butterflies grow in your stomach “You really think so?”

He gently grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him “I know so” he leaned down, you swear his eyes had the whole galaxy painted inside of them. You couldn’t even breath properly at this point. Kim Namjoon was too close and the only thing you were thinking about was how well his kiss would feel “God, you’re so beautiful” he said and pulled you in for a soft, gentle kiss.

You couldn’t believe your senses. Kim Namjoon was kissing you and you really thought the earth had stopped spinning right then and there. You could feel his big palms traveling up and down your back.

His kiss was breathless, jubilant, filled with the joy of life, and you should stop him, he is no good to you, you know that, but his scent is delightful and his lips are so warm.

Unconsciously, your hands reach the inside of his shirt. His skin hot and soft at the touch.

"y/n" he practically moans your name, and just the sound makes your knees go week "Don't do that, I don't think I'll be able to stop"

"Who said anything about stopping?" You say and go back to kiss him even more passionately this time.

“There’s a lot of people here, my room is upstairs, would you perhaps want to-“

“Yes.” You immediately say. You don’t care about anything anymore, you’d let your future self deal with the consequences of today’s actions. The only thing that has been lingering in your mind is how good he’d feel inside of you.

The moment you’re finally alone in his room, he lifts you up, swinging you around and kissing you. It was like a dream. Namjoon was everything you wanted. Your reluctance about getting with him didn’t matter any more, the tingly feeling in your stomach overtook every single bit of hesitation you had. You needed him.

“God, you’re lovely” he exhaled

He looks at you as he sinks you down on the bed. Planting a soft kiss before his hands quickly begun to peel away clothes, yanking his belt loose, fumbling hurriedly at his trousers.

You look at his lips tracing your skin and the faint moisture left behind, you look at his muscly arms as he lifts you up and sinks you down again, you look at him looking at you, with eyes brighter than the sun itself. Was this all a dream?

When your dress was finally off he undoes your bra clasp on the way down. Slowly planting kisses on your collarbone, the tops of your breasts, your sternum, and you arched you back as you were needy for more.

His lips finally reach your nipples .Your boobs smooth under his hands, your nipple firm under his tongue, and there, that makes you squirm again, a little more insistently this time.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking wet right now, I feel it” You moan

You see him raise an eyebrow. A vivid smirk painted on his face “Let’s check, shall we?”

He splays his hand low across your belly, and the first brush of his thumb over your clit makes you breathe in sharply and him forget to breathe at all.

“I’m your friend?” He breaths in, his voice dangerously low

“Oh come on” You manage to say in between moans “what was I supposed to tell Jimin?”

His strokes and flicks are light and teasing, his thumb carefully circling around your clit. He gives you a slow, constant, unyielding pressure that makes your breath come up short, makes your toes curl in the effort not to move.

“I’m gonna fuck the word ‘friend’ right out of your pretty little mouth” he covers your mouth with an intense kiss before slipping two fingers of his free hand inside of you, and you makes a noise like triumph and want all wrapped up together. If his fingers felt like this, you can’t imagine how his dick felt like.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up, he keeps his eyes on his hands, on you, spread out beneath him “You like that baby?”

God, just the way the word 'baby' sounded coming from his mouth could make you come right this second. You look at him, his eyes look as hungry as his voice sounded. This dude was out of this world.

“Please Namjoon, I want it, I want you inside of me right now”

Namjoon lowered his underwear, and simply pressed his hard member on your slit. You could feel his balls softly caressing your clit as he made subtle movements while kissing you. “Such a needy little thing” he teases “Tell me how bad you want my cock inside of you”

“Oh..” you moan “I’d do anything, please…give it to me… fuck me like you own me” you whined as you used your pussy to caress his length up and down. He seemed to enjoy they way you touched him.

“Fuck y/n… that feels so good” he rests his forehead on yours.

“Imagine what my inside will feel then” you whisper in his ear “I’m such a tight good girl” you move your mouth in front of his, bitting his bottom lip as he growled when he felt your movement grow faster

“Fucking hell” he immobilized your body with his hands and pressed you down to the bed. He immediately shoves his dick inside you, filing you up to the brim before staying there for a couple of seconds and then pulling out completely. That movement made your vagina crave to be filled all the way up again.

“More” you whine, a dopey expression all over your face. You were so needy of him, but you didn’t care.

He lowered his left hand towards your thigh and gave it a big squeeze, kissing you aggressively while doing so. He quickly braced himself back into you, you felt your walls completely wrap around his member. It felt magical.

His strokes long and steady in the beginning. Every time he went in and out completely you felt the pit of your stomach burn in pleasure. Namjoon was doing everything right, you can’t lie to yourself, this is the best sex you’ve ever had. Normally with other guys you don’t even come close to coming, but now, you feel yourself trying not to do so.

“You like my dick being inside of you baby?” He plants a small kiss on your neck and goosebumps run down your spine.

‘Like’ was nowhere near good enough of a word to explain how much the sensation of him thrusting his hard member in and out of you made you feel. “I love it Namjoon… I just love it…”

Your words must’ve turned Namjoon even more on, because his pace immediately started becoming faster and sloppier. Every time your skin touched a loud sound could be heard. Namjoon was thrusting deeper and deeper into you, and every time he’d fill you up completely you’d cry out his name.

“Ah, I like my name so much better when you fucking moan it like that” he says and started shoving his dick inside of you like crazy. You could tell he was close to coming, and so were you.

It wasn’t long until you felt your walls clenching and your toes curling. The sensation overtook all of your body, it was mad… your heart beat uncontrollable. Namjoon made you feel a completely new range of emotions.

“Ah y/n, I can feel you cumming all over my dick” his voice cracky, You could see how turned on he was by all of this, by you. “Fuck” he shoved harder “You’re so” harder “fucking hot”

Namjoon stopped and pulled out immediately spreading his cum all over your tummy. The sight was breathtaking, you’ve never found a man so attractive while coming before, but then, Namjoon is no ordinary man.

He quickly grabs a couple of tissues and wipes you clean before laying on top of you again, placing another soft kiss this time. His hand playing with your hair. You were both naked and sweaty and a mess but it felt so magical. You wrapped your hands around his broad shoulders, pulling him even closer to you. You didn’t want even a centimeter of distance between you and him.

He suddenly stopped kissing you and simply stared at your eyes. After a minute or two, or maybe three, you're not really sure, time didn't exist right now, he tacked a string of hair behind your left ear.

“Y/n, let me take you on a date. Please. I know you don’t normally go out with guys like me, but I swear I’ll make it worth your while-“

“Park Jihoon and the little funny guitar. How does that sound? Or are you too good for the shrieking shack now?” You chuckled

“I’d love that” he smiled, making your heart melt a little.

[skzsauce01]

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’  are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.  

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

[harryimaginedstories]

on your side

genre: au (while I don’t like the term ‘au-fic’ at all imagine the two characters are in college together and in their early twenties.) angst and some fluff as well.

about 5k words

it’s entirely different than anything I have ever published and I really love it. please let me know what you think and stay safe during these wild and often scary times. 

read more here: my stories

photo: taken from instagram, previously taken by somebody from the movie AWC, which also inspired me (kinda) to even write this.

They started arguing pretty much the second the car door fell shut behind them and even ten traffic lights, countless of turns and getting honked at twice, didn’t stop their heated exchange of words. Harry’s hands held on to the seat tightly, an attempt not to touch her thigh like he normally would, while hers curled around the steering wheel until the white of her knuckles showed. It wasn’t uncommon for them to fight. They had never been one of those couples who didn’t call each other out on their bullshit or who tried hide anger when there was reason to feel it. However, this was the first time that they weren’t on their way home, where their argument could be settled in private. Instead, Harry and Y/N, both infuriated with each other, were on their way to a party. With one generous rotation of the wheel, Y/N parked Harry’s black car in the last free niche on the street of the frat house. The vehicle gave an unpleasant sound and Harry closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. Before he got the chance to complain, Y/N swung open the door, stepped out and threw it shut hard enough to know it would set him off. 

“Jesus fuck!” Harry shouted, opening the passenger door and stepping out, too. 

She waited long enough to press ‘lock’ on the keys once he was out, then she walked away. With quick strides he caught up with her, and had he not been as angry as could be he would have probably felt hurt at her for not waiting up like she would have any other day.  Walking next to her he turned to look at her profile, trying to catch her eyes, but she refused. 

“Would you mind not taking your crazy out on my fucking car?”

“Oh, so you do care about that then. Good to know,” she snapped back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N halted and so did he. They were standing on the pavement, one house away from where there could already be heard the dull sound of music blaring and a good meter of distance between them.  Any other night they would be standing there, too. Only not to deliver a few more blows before pretending to be alright while their friends were around. On any other night, Harry would have taken advantage of the warm weather, by letting his hands roam across Y/N’s bare arms. She would have given him a kiss or two and made him a laugh at least as much. He would have reminded her for the fifth time (at least) that she looked beautiful. There wouldn’t be any distance between them, let alone one entire meter.

“There is one thing I’ve been hearing clearly through all of the bullshit you’ve said today,” Y/N hissed, her lips barely moving and her hands curling into tight fists by her side, “which is that you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“Oh my god.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his head falling back before snapping forward quickly, “You’re being such a lunatic!”

Wind picked up some of her hair and pushed the loose strands into her eyes, breaking the angry stare she’d held with him and for a moment, Harry could have sworn she appeared to be younger. Then she brushed the hair off with shaky hands and back she was, angry and exhausted. 

“You’re a dick!” Y/N squealed, 

“Well, clearly we could go on,” he snapped and rolled his eyes, “but our fucking friends are waiting for us so do you think you can manage to avoid me for the next few hours so we can at least settle this at home?” 

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her cleavage which he had tried not to stare ever since she’d put on the blue dress. That damn dress. Focusing on it now it only irked him further. She knew how much he loved it when she wore this particular piece of clothing. It had spent the night on the floor of his bedroom or over the back of a chair often enough. He was certain she’d put it on specifically to spite him. 

“Fine, let’s go. But since you’re unhappy with my parking,” Y/N stepped forward and reached up, pressing the hard metal of Harry’s car keys into his chest, “you get to be the designated driver tonight.” 

Her fist lingered on the fabric of his black T-shirt. Feeling her touch him momentarily paused his thoughts. All anger was forgotten, as if the wind had picked it up, too, and carried it far away. Harry whimpered and her lips parted, their eyes connecting without any trace of hurt in them. Then his hand found hers and she dropped the set of keys into his palm, snapping them both out of their brief moment of peace. 

“I don’t want to see you right now,” Y/N stuttered, blinking rapidly until her eyes turned darker again.

“Don’t come look for me later when you’re drunk and feeling sorry,” Harry replied, before he stepped around her and walked towards the frat building.

Y/N lost sight of him the second he stepped inside. Despite still feeling angry with him, she couldn’t stop herself from briefly wishing he wouldn’t have left her alone. She didn’t like being left alone at a party. Neither did he, for the matter, but she refused to feel guilty for sending him away. Y/N drew a shaky breath and stepped inside, instantly greeted by the smell of alcohol, smoke and pot. A big banner had been hung from one side of the hall to the other, wishing everybody a cheerful start to the new semester. Underneath mingled numerous students, all of which held drinks in their hands. Already Y/N recognized a few of them from some of her classes, she didn’t feel like talking to them however. To her luck she spotted a few friends of her in the first room she entered and was quickly greeted with hugs and kisses to her cheek. 

Dena, a girl Y/N had grown close with through sharing an equal distain for their econ teacher, pressed a drink into her hand and smiled. “You look like you need at least two of these.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Well, you didn’t cheer in delight upon seeing us like you should have so,” said Clara, another friend Y/N had made whilst talking badly about her teacher.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

Dena nudged her. “Also, your boyfriend stormed past us earlier so we expected something was up.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clara asked.

Y/N shook her head and took a long sip from her drink. It tasted of a mixture of beer and vodka, which on any other day she would have refused to drink. “I really don’t.”

“Great. Then let’s just cheer to us.”

The two girls raised their own cups and waited expectantly for Y/N to do the same. Dena grinned at her and cleared her throat. 

“To us, the coming semester, which we will fucking ace. And-” she paused, looking at Y/N, “to knowing when to kick your boyfriend’s ass. Cheers!”

“Cheers.”

Harry stood by the unlit fire pit in the lounge area, where the chairs had been pushed aside to create a dance floor. A scowl was deeply etched onto his face and he had yet to smile genuinely. He blamed the alcohol he wasn’t allowed to consume for how poorly he was feeling, but he knew even if he had drowned his veins in liquor, it wouldn’t be until he’d feel her touch him that he would be in a better mood. He stood back watching with a few of his mates, who were all except one, very drunk, as some freshmen clumsily turned the dinner table into a bear pong station. Matt, the only sober one left, had tried to get him to talk about why his mood was so sour three times already, receiving no answer each time. Harry rolled his eyes upon feeling him nudge his shoulder again.

“Where’s your girl?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know.”

He’d been cursing her short height since turning around and looking for her in the crowded hallway thirty minutes ago. She’d slipped past him without him noticing, and while he was too proud to go look for her properly, it annoyed him that he wasn’t able to casually spot her whenever he scanned one of the many rooms that had been turned into a club. He especially didn’t like it since he knew that she was drinking. Blindly he felt for his phone in his pocket, ensuring for the tenth time that its volume was turned up. Should she call him, he wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t miss it.

“Didn’t she come with you?” Matt pressed on, either oblivious to Harry’s annoyance or simply indifferent to it.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t wander off on her own, does it?” Harry replied, his voice rough. 

He’d never really liked Matt. Actually, he’d liked him a lot once. They’d even considered becoming roommates in their second year. He’d liked him, up until he’d gotten together with Y/N and noticed the gleam in Matt’s eyes the first time he’d introduced her to him. Their friendship dissolved fast after.

“I’m sure she can. She’s always been good at enjoying parties, hasn’t she?”

Harry didn’t reply. Once more his eyes scanned the room frantically, detecting every single face in hopes of recognizing the eyes to the one he loved.

“Dude!” Eric, a tall and broad looking bloke who’d just become team captain to the football team, stumbled into Harry’s side, knocking him back. 

“Sorry! Shit,” Eric laughed, doubling over, revealing that he was clearly drunker than he should have been, “I’m sorry, mate. Wow, I need to lay off a little.”

“No kidding,” Harry replied, but smiled when Eric slung a heavy arm around his shoulders. The unmistakable smell of alcohol fanned over his face as Eric talked, and his nose scrunched up. 

“You’ve been wearing a look as depressing as Matt’s sex life-”

“Hey, fuck you, Eric!” Matt snapped, unamused.

“-and I intend to fix that. C’mon.”

Harry didn’t fight it as the taller guy dragged him away, out of the lounge and into another room further down the hall. He certainly didn’t mind getting away form Matt. Regardless of them having been friends once, Matt was the last person he wanted to be around when he was having a rough time with Y/N. The smoke was thicker in this room and the music a little quieter. There were less people dancing and more sitting around on the couches and chairs. A few stood by the wall in small groups and some, the ones Eric was walking towards, were standing opposite a dart board. They cheered upon seeing the two guys approach, making more noise than anybody else in the room.

“You’re on my team and you’re gonna help me win, yeah? M’taking advantage of you being sober as a stone. Your aim is probably better than any of theirs.”

Harry laughed and nodded, accepting to be involved. “I’ll try my best.”

The first dart arrow was thrust into his hand by a guy named Kyle who appeared to be on the same team. Half an hour later and Eric was grinning from ear to ear, writing their leading score numbers onto a makeshift writing board that was really just the coffee table. Something the guys living in this house would be happy to find in the morning.  Y/N watched him. Despite being intoxicated, or perhaps because of how intoxicated she was, she noticed every muscle of his back move each time he raised his arm. Her heart fluttered whenever he laughed and she felt a heat grow at the pit of her stomach whenever he leaned his head to the side, revealing the back of his neck to her. And above his neck was his ear, which hid a spot right under his hairline where he liked to be kissed. Y/N’s lips parted at the thought and her toes curled.  He hadn’t noticed her when entering the room. She didn’t blame him though, since she’d successfully hid herself behind Dena and Eric’s big body also worked wonderfully as a shield. Despite anything she’d said before the party, she was immensely relieved to see him. The vodka-beer mixture which she’d learned had been invented by Clara, was disgusting but also got her drunk faster than she had expected. Or intended. Another round of cheers erupted as Harry scored another point for his team. 

“Not fair. You won’t give them as much as a chance to win.” 

A chill rushed down Harry’s back at the sound of the honey sweet female voice behind him, and Y/N, too, froze in place. Slender fingers touched Harry’s arm, caressing the skin despite being less than welcome to. Upon turning around he was met with Silja, who’s face wore a smile equally sweet as her sly voice. Though standing by the opposite wall, Y/N swore she could hear Silja as if she were standing next to her. She would always be able to detect her voice, especially if the words she spoke were directed to Harry. 

Dena followed her friend’s gaze and raised her brows. “Haven’t seen her in a while. I thought she dropped out.”

“Would have been too nice,” Y/N growled. 

She’d never actually talked to Silja herself and she surely didn’t intend to. Before getting together with him, Y/N had been mostly oblivious to who was genuinely interested in him and who she imagining to be. Only with Silja there had never been any doubt. Even before Harry had become hers, she’d felt a bitter taste collect in the middle of her tongue whenever the pretty brunette girl tried to talk to him. Once her claim on him had become justified, she disliked Silja and her upfront behaviour all the more.

“Hey, you know you don’t have to worry about her, right?” Dena said quietly, reading Y/N’s expression, “Harry has rejected her what, three times already? Even before he was with you. He’s not interested in her.”

“I know. I’m not worried about that,” Y/N said quickly, stepping around Dena to get a better look at her boyfriend and the girl that had yet to remove her hand from his arm, “I trust him.”

“Doesn’t make her less of a bitch,” Clara grumbled, also staring at them intently. 

The three girls watched Harry turn to look at Silja. He gave her a tight lip smile before he stepped away to make room for the next player, conveniently shrugging off her hand in process. To their dismay, Silja followed him.

“I haven’t seen you this summer,” she complained in an uncomfortably high voice, that was laced with feigned displeasure, “Where were you hiding?” 

Harry sighed, wishing Y/N would find him already, and rested his back against the wall. The last thing he needed for this party to become worse were the advances of the woman standing before him. “I wasn’t.”

Their summer had been great. They spent it looking for a flat to move into together. One weekend they’d taken the train out to the ocean and spent two days in a pretty bed and breakfast, where nothing distracted them from each other and everything, even their sheets, held the faint smell of sea salt. He wasn’t about to tell any of that to Silja though. 

The girl pouted, smudging her lilac lipstick at the corners. “Didn’t you miss me at all? Not even a little bit?” 

“No.”

She smiled. Her neck moved to the side as her eyes mustering him. “You and your attitude. I really missed that.”

Harry let his head fall back and for a moment Y/N forgot to eye the girl hitting on her boyfriend and instead stared at his throat. She longed to kiss him there, too. The darkened expression taking over his relaxed face quickly brought her attention back. Thinking about kissing him had made her miss the words Silja had said to upset him. 

“You’re wasting your time missing me.”

At last, Silja’s smile dropped. “You’re still with her, then?”

“Yep,” he replied shortly. 

 “Fine,” Silja pushed the long brown locks off her shoulder and crossed her arms, “maybe if she fucked you right you wouldn’t be such an asshole all the time.” 

“Fuck off, Silja,” Harry snapped, pushing himself off the wall to instantly tower over her.

“Harry! Your turn again, mate.”

Without giving her as much as a second look, Harry turned away and followed Eric’s call. Dena’s hand rested on Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing her gently whilst smiling at her. Y/N exhaled loudly and relaxed. She didn’t doubt Harry’s capability of getting rid of Silja. She’d also truly meant it when she’d said that she trusted him. But after their argument she wasn’t so sure that he didn’t want to receive some affection tonight, be it from anybody. While she would have hated it, simply entertaining Silja’s flirting wouldn’t have been cheating. A warm feeling overtook any worry left in her body upon watching him turn Silja away. He didn’t bother look at her again but walked back to his friends to resume the game, treating her like she wasn’t even there. He didn’t even give Silja the satisfaction of remaining angered by her words. Giving up her attempts, Silja walked away and left the room quickly, her cheeks slightly rosy in embarrassment. 

“Remind me to kiss him later for that,” Y/N said, her voice holding more love for him than she would usually let on whilst angry. 

Clara laughed. “So you’re not mad at him anymore.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me that I was or I might still be.”

“What were you two fighting about anyway?” Dena asked. 

Y/N took another long sip from her drink, before remembering that she’d wanted to not drink any more for the night. Oh well. 

“He didn’t come home last night. Without notifying me. He fell asleep at stupid Rick’s place and neither of them bothered shooting me a text or ringing me about it. I spent all night worried sick.”

Y/N’s expression hardened at the thought of waiting up for him. She’d paced around the living room of their new flat before settling on the couch, vowing to stay awake until he returned. She’d had half a mind not to call his mother or sister, not quite worried enough to ask them. 

“I didn’t see him until an hour before coming here ‘cause I had to work today. So we didn’t have time to properly fight about it.”

“Didn’t he say he was sorry?”

“Sure he did, as well as stating that I was overreacting and not his mother.”

“Ugh, men,” Dena grumbled, then she changed the subject, “Let’s get refills in the kitchen!”

Harry got bored of the game after the fifth round, but stayed to play until the team he’d joined won by a margin. Then he politely excused himself from playing another round. Though she’d told him she didn’t want to see him, Harry really wanted to see Y/N and he figured over an hour of distance sufficed for her to calm down. Maybe she would even allow herself to be happy about him finding her. He strolled around the room, then went looking in the hall and finally searched the lounge. If only she were a little taller, he thought once more. All of sudden he heard a loud shout. It wasn’t one of the usual party hollers, it was one that held no joy at all. With swift strides Harry crossed the room, turned left in the hallway and entered the kitchen. This time he didn’t have to search to see her. Y/N was sitting on the counter, her legs dangling down and her hands curling around the stone surface. Across from her was the kitchen table on which all of the different liquor bottles had been placed. It was also where the single shout turned into several. A guy Harry hadn’t ever seen around campus before stood next to a broken bottle of vodka. His hand curled into a fist and his face was red. Opposite him stood Dena, a girl Harry barely knew beyond her being a friend of Y/N. Next to Dena was a guy named Dylan, his face painted with guilt and worry. 

“You fucking broke my shit!” the stranger shouted. 

Y/N flinched. It wasn’t Dena who’d pissed off the wrong guy, but Dylan who had tried to make a drink for them. She didn’t feel any less involved if the guy were to be shouting at her. The second the bottle had broken and the tall stranger exclaimed that it’d been his, Y/N had felt fear curse through her. She hated it. She hated how a man shouting was so scary that she froze in place.  Just like she always did when afraid, her eyes began to search for Harry. Heavy like a wave and equally overwhelming was the relief when she saw him lingering in the doorway.  Their eyes met. Y/N visibly relaxed. She could read the question in the look he was giving her and she eagerly nodded. There were so few people scattered around the small place, Harry had no trouble reaching the counter.  Once in arms reach she held out her right hand, whimpering when his fingers slotted through hers and holding on tight. Any anger towards each other was forgotten the moment their skin touched. Y/N gave a determined pull until he stood next to where she was sitting, her legs touching his waist. Harry didn’t say anything, but he allowed her to let go of his hand to instead hold on to his shoulder. His own settled heavily on her thigh, relishing the feeling of her bare skin. He didn’t complain when her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of his shirt, nor did she mind how intimate it felt to have his hand on her naked thigh. His eyes quickly scanned her face, waiting for her nod, confirming that she was alright. Y/N smiled gently, relief mirroring in her eyes. Harry returned her smile. His heart clenching when he noticed the faint veil of alcohol before her eyes. Ever so slightly, their heads leaned towards each other, then his nose softly touched her forehead.

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Dena said defensively, “and these bottles are for everybody to use.”

Harry shifted closer to Y/N but removed his nose form her hairline. Unwillingly he turned his attention back to where the argument grew. The stranger’s head, figuratively doubling in size by the minute, was red and looming over Dena like a balloon hovering in the sky. He had to admit it was impressive that Dena, equally short as Y/N, refused to back off.

“I wasn’t asking you! You and your friend better figure out how to replace my drink and you better do it fast!”

“Mate, lay off a bit, will ya? They didn’t do anything on purpose,” Harry interrupted, his voice calm and steady, “Why don’t you just grab one of the ten other bottles and leave ‘em alone?” 

The stranger, slightly shorter than Harry, turned to look at them. Y/N tightened her hold on his shoulder. She was mentally preparing herself to jump off the counter and at the stranger’s throat instead, should he as much as try to pick a fight with Harry. Noticing her shift beside him, Harry’s hold on her intensified.

“Leave them alone?” the tall guy snapped, “that was twenty fucking quid he broke!” 

“Bit embarrassing that you’re whining about twenty quid,” Harry said, wearing a smug grin, “and picking a fight like some kind of neanderthals who found out somebody’s pissed into his cave.” 

Dena giggled and so did Y/N, along with some bystanders who’d gathered to watch. The bloke narrowed his eyes, first at Harry, then at the girl sitting beside him. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him. “Quit looking at me and spare me any sexist bullshit you’re about to say.” 

The guy rolled his eyes, then smiled. “You’re pretty for a bitch.”

Y/N’s hand yanked Harry back by his shoulder equally fast as he’d pushed off the counter to lunge forward and at the guy. The movement caused him to knock against the counter uncomfortably. She didn’t let go and didn’t move, despite Harry’s enraged breathing getting louder.  

“Fuck you!” Harry shouted, eyes wide. 

Anger oozed out of his pores and heat settled in the small kitchen. Calm and collected only a moment ago, he was all the more scarier now that he was enraged. Scary enough to make the stranger take back a step. Y/N loosened her hold on Harry’s shoulder, sliding her hand down to press against his back instead. She rubbed his spine gently, hoping to ease him by letting him know she was okay. 

"You need to leave,” Y/N stated, her voice calm.

“Definitely,” Dena agreed, her eyes trained on her friend before finding Harry.

He didn’t return her gaze, his eyes remained on the tall blonde. They stayed put until the guy lowered his empty cup to the table, the movement slow and deliberate. He clearly didn’t want it to look like he was leaving because he was told to, so he took his time. But finally he turned away, before at last leaving the kitchen and hopefully the party all together. 

Harry shuddered upon feeling Y/N’s nose against the shell of his ear. “I’m fine, Harry.”

“What a wanker.”

“A fucking wanker,” Y/N replied, her smile practically audible in her voice. 

Harry turned around to face her, all of his attention returning to where it belonged: her. His eyes looked into hers intently, reading every answer to all of his unspoken questions.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Are you?”

He nodded. “Did he try anything before I came?”

“I noticed him about zero-point-five seconds before you arrived, Harry. I’m fine, I promise.”

Her hands gently took hold of his face. The fingers of her left hand traced along his jawline as tenderly as one would the rim of a glass in hopes of eliciting a sound. That’s how Harry sometimes felt when she touched him. Like she was being as tender as she could possibly fathom to be. 

“Does that mean you’re gonna go back to being mad at me?” As he spoke, Harry moved closer. His hands rested on each side of her hips, allowing his body to get closer to hers as he leaned forward.

Y/N laughed and shook her head, their faces so close they almost touched. She enjoyed the warmth of his breath fanning against her throat. 

“Are you? You were at least as pissed off as I was.”

He shrugged, then playfully nudged her nose with his. “No.”

“Then I think I’ll let it go, too,” she answered, faking to be coy, “For now, you still owe me an apology later.”

Harry laughed. “That’s fair. Promise to mean it this time, too.” 

Her eyes narrowed. She took hold of his chin, holding him still so she could kiss him without giving him the chance to deepen it. The feeling of his mouth slotting with hers, be it as briefly as it was, ignited her like nothing else could. Any remaining worry was pulled from the corners in her body where it had hidden, and was thrown out not to return. Harry took over. All of the space inside her that could belong to an emotion, now belonged to him.

“I knew you didn’t mean it earlier,” she breathed accusingly against his lips. 

“I meant it a little,” he said, curling his hand around her wrist to pull away the hold she’d taken and he kissed her a second time before she could complain. 

Despite their desperation their teeth didn’t clash together, nor did their noses unintentionally bump. They’d kissed too many times not to blindly meet each other without missing. His tongue glided along her bottom lip, hers pushed his aside so it could trespass into his mouth. Frantic hands held on to her hips and her thigh, eager fingers remembered to be gentle as they settled on the back of his neck. Harry moaned and Y/N pulled away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, just enough space between them so she could speak. 

Harry’s kisses trailed down from the corner of her mouth to her cheek and her jaw, his lips warm, wet and determined. He allowed one kiss to last a little longer, followed by a small lick to her earlobe.

As satisfied as could be as long as they weren’t alone, he raised his head to look at her again. “What for?”

“Being on my side even when we’re fighting.” 

The smile gracing her features was so genuine he could have melted, just like her words were spoken with more love behind them than he could detect. He smiled and willingly moved his head to the side, so she could kiss below his ear. The heat in his belly grew and he let her know by squeezing her hips.

“Ditto.”

[ot3tropetober]

-So Hardison gets rich playing the stock market as a teen in Nana’s basement. Mostly because the professor at the college econ classes he’s taking for extra credit said he couldn’t.

-By the time he’s graduating highschool at 18 he is filthy rich. (WhatLikeItsHard.gif) He has paid off Nana’s medical bills and her house and went over to the college to gloat a little and decided he doesn’t actually need to go to college when he’s already, you know, doing what he does.

-But he doesn’t wanna keep taking up Nana’s basement when he has heard her having to turn down emergency placements because there’s not enough room. 

-So he moves out. Into a giant mansion, because why not. He has everything. A pool. A fancy kitchen. A shower with like 16 sprays that massage your back perfectly. A hallway with a giant fancy staircase. A whole room dedicated to his computer setup, with all the latest gadgets. A special wine fridge he stocked full of orange soda. A damn fireplace in his bathroom.

-A lot of empty rooms. And quiet. Like, creepy-quiet. Right-before-the-killer-grabs-you-in-the-hallway quiet. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he forgets there is a mirror at the end of one of the hallways. His shriek echoes through the empty house.

-He considers getting a cat for one second but remembers he’s allergic. And it would probably just startle him even more. He gets a few roombas, but even with the giant googly eyes they don’t fill the space as much as he’d hoped. So instead he places an ad online for roommates. 

-He doesn’t get nearly enough responses as he suspects. Maybe ‘come live in my mansion rent free’ gives off some major serial killer vibes. He amends his ad to a reasonable but still low enough rent that people who really need a place can apply. 

-He runs background checks on everyone who applies. He may or may not disqualify some people for petty reasons. Sorry not sorry, this is his mansion and he’s not about to share his kitchen with someone who thinks Kylo Ren is cooler than Poe Dameron, okay?

-He has some interviews, but nobody seems to click. A lot of people seem to want to make his house some kind of party-mansion. And not the fun kind of movie-marathon, D&D session, LAN Party kind of parties. One girl keeps asking him when the ‘real owner’ of the house is going to be back. 

-He’s thinking about giving up and moving back home and finding a small apartment near Nana’s house when a girl shows up in his living room.

-She does not have an interview scheduled. Hardison knows this for two reasons: one, he thinks he’d remember background checking someone as pretty as her. Two: it’s three in the morning.

-“So I heard you’re looking for roommates,” she says. A roomba nudges against her foot, and she reaches down to pat it before it turns away. “I like your pet robots.”

-It’s probably the fact that he’s been up for like 48 hours by now, but he’s like: thanks, want a tour of the house?

-Parker moves in that weekend. He helps her move in, and does not ask why she has an entire box of the exact same creepy doll whose head turns around to show an even more creepy face. He just kindly requests she keep those in her rooms, not the shared ones.

-Parker is a great roommate. Her schedule is all over the place as well, but she’s tidy, she’s funny, and she’ll hang out and watch Doctor Who with him. She also names all his roombas. He pretends not to see her dropping some fortune cookie crumbs on purpose to feed Carl the kitchen roomba when he goes by.

-Their next roommate is Eliot. He’s a veteran who’s learning how to cook at some kind of culinary school. He gets a little flustered when Hardison shows him his rooms, plural, saying he must have read the ad wrong, and is almost out the door before Hardison can convince him that yes, the price in the ad is correct, no this is not a cult, he just bought a house that was much too big and he has Regrets okay, help a brother out.

-So Eliot moves in as well. He gets a little judgy when he finds out 95% of the kitchen cupboards are empty, and the rest is filled with cereal and junkfood. He brings in more boxes of kitchenware than clothes, and Parker is delighted at poking each and every thing he unpacks.

-Eliot’s schedule is kind of the opposite of Hardison’s. He is some kind of weird morning person. They mostly run into each other when Hardison is going to bed and Eliot comes back from his morning run. He’s mostly at school or working kitchen shifts to gain more experience during the times Hardison is awake, so they mostly communicate via text.

-Parker’s the one that figures out Eliot is all bark and no bite. Or actually, all growl and no bite. Turns out, he just really hates the little buttons on his smartphone, so his texts are very short and curt. Hardison starts leaving notes on the kitchen fridge instead and that works much better. Note-Eliot is way nicer than text-Eliot.

-The great thing about Eliot is that his homework is basically… fuck around in the kitchen and make delicious things. Which he then ‘makes’ them taste. So yeah maybe Hardison kind of… switches his schedule so he’s around more and awake for Eliot Cooking Time. 

-So basically he gets roommates, and free food and it’s all great. Except for that time he accidentally ate Eliot’s sandwich. Well, he didn’t leave a note saying NOT to! It ends up with him being dragged out of bed and interrogated (Parker shining a flashlight at him and being generally Chaotic Unhelpful) until he confesses.

-The only reason Eliot doesn’t kill him probably is because he babbles about how delicious it was. Or because he’s tired of Parker shouting unrelated cop-phrases at Hardison over his shoulder.

-They come up with a system where Eliot leaves very threatening notes on the stuff he does not want them to eat. It mostly works. Besides, Parker has totally found Eliot’s weak spots (puppy eyes) and can basically make him cook them whatever.

-It’s pretty great until it starts to heat up. And both Parker and Eliot start making use of the big outdoor pool. Which is great, that’s what it’s there for. But they then wander around looking sexy and damp and near naked and Hardison is starting to get Very Inappropriate Thoughts, okay?

-Okay so maybe he also had very inappropriate thoughts before, even when Eliot was wearing like 13 layers of clothing and Parker was wearing cozy sweaters and it’s still not fair for them to wander around looking so hot.

-But he’s not about to ruin a good thing with his crushes. Besides, he’s technically their landlord, that would be weird and creepy.

-So he just… quietly pines a little. It’s cool. He still gets to hang out in the kitchen with Parker and Eliot, and force them to watch movies they have never seen that they really should (neither of them talk to him for a week because of the whole Lilo and Stitch thing).

-And maybe he notices them huddled together whispering sometimes. That’s cool. That’s fine. They can date each other if they want. (Don’t think about Eliot and Parker together, don’t, it’s too hot and you won’t be able to look them in the eye ever again, dammit Hardison).

-Until one day he wanders down into the shared living space to find the dining room table to be all decked out, a table cloth and candles and roses and everything. And Parker and Eliot look up all expectantly as he starts backpedaling that he didn’t mean to interrupt their date before Eliot growls and says ‘sit down, Hardison’. 

-The table has three place settings.

-Oh.

-It’s one hundred percent worth his foster siblings quoting a meme at him all weekend when he brings the two of them home to meet his Nana.

[iconic-ponytail]

there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 3

chapter 1 chapter 2

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A close call has you on the move.

Note: Alright, things are ramping up. As always, mind the warnings and take care of yourselves.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

A third glass of wine helped you sleep better than you had in the last week. You didn’t remember much past the bottom of the glass; only the fear and the way it burned your throat. You didn’t remember falling asleep or even going to your bed. 

Slowly, as if drowning in oil, you woke. One eye opened, then the other. Your head pounded as the grey winter light peeked in. You groaned and a sudden crash made you shoot up in your bed. The duvet fell away from your chest as you listened to the grunting and the footsteps barreling across the floor. You were dizzy as your heart raced.

You kicked out from under the covers and stumbled frantically to the bedroom door. You peered out into the living room, the dark figure at the open door. Bucky braced himself against the frame and swore. He looked as if he would bolt out until his eyes settled on you.

He gritted his teeth and pushed himself straight. He closed the door and locked it firmly. He shook his head and crossed to you.

“I didn’t mean to wake you--”

“What’s going on?” You looked around. The coffee table was overturned, the lamp too, and pillow leaked its innards onto the floor. “What was that? What happened?”

“It’s okay, I think I got him much worse,” Bucky assured you. 

You noticed for the first time the knife in his hand. The same black handle that he holstered on his belt. You blanched as your eyes scaled his torso and the dark blood spread across his grey tee shirt.

“Did you?” You asked as you backed away. “Oh my, that’s a lot of blood.” You touched your stomach, still sensitive from the night before and roused by the sight of red. “Are you okay?”

He looked down and touched along his ribs. He hissed and carefully set down his knife on the arm of the couch. “Shit.” He pulled open the slice in the cotton and chuckled. “Fucker got me good.”

“How can you laugh?” You gasped. “What do you mean-- Was it him? Was he in here?”

“Yeah and so was I,” Bucky raised the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “I took care of him.”

“He got away,” you looked at the door. “He got in! How could he--”

“Well, I assumed it was easier in a carrier’s uniform,” Bucky bunched up his shirt and stemmed the blood with it. His thick arms tensed and his broad chest puffed out. “But… I think I got a decent peek at his face.”

He went to the lamp and pulled it up. You watched him stunned. How could he be so casual? Your eyes fell to a trail of blood that led to the door and was smeared across the side of the coffee table.

“I told you, I got him worse,” Bucky said as he looked at you. “You got some bandages, or something?”

He sat heavily and leaned back as he looked under the tee shirt. You blinked and nodded dumbly. You recalled the video call the night before; the woman’s blood pouring from her throat, bubbling along her lips. You went to the bathroom and searched beneath the sink for the first aid kit you’d never even opened.

You came back out and unclasped the metal box. You set it on the corner of the couch and bent to flip the coffee table. Bucky stopped you. “Leave it. It’s got evidence on it.”

You stood and stared at him as he took the first aid kit and balanced it on his thigh. He stirred around with one hand and pulled out the bottle of alcohol. He pressed down on the tee before removing it and sprayed the gash. You slumped onto the couch and tried not to look. You had never done well with the sight of blood. There was so much, you could smell it even.

“Shit,” he uttered, “I think I’m gonna need some help.”

You looked up again and he pulled out a spool and a packaged needle. You’d never thought you’d need those.

“I can’t-- Blood, it makes me… sick,” you murmured. “I don’t know--”

“Well, I can’t exactly see well enough to do it myself,” he grunted. “Honey, it’s fine. It’s nothing serious but it needs stitching.”

You squinted at the pet name. The more he said it, the more odd it seemed. You weren’t his honey, you were a job. 

You sniffed and neared him. Your hand shook as he ripped open the packet and threaded the needle. You took it from him as he held it out. You stared at the metal point then glanced at him.

“I’ve never…”

“Have you ever sewn? A cross-stitch maybe?” He asked.

“I took home econ in high school but that was… a long time ago,” you swallowed. “What if I make it worse?”

“It’s just like a tear in a pair of pants. That’s all. Don’t think about it. Just--” He gripped the tee shirt tightly, “Do it.”

He lowered the cotton and bared the cut again. Your lashes fluttered and you let out a long breath. You got closer and bent over him. You hesitantly touched the flesh along the cut and pointed the needle along it. You bit down as you poked his skin.

“Come on,” he rasped, “We got a lot more to do.”

You pushed the needle’s nose through his flesh and your stomach flipped. You held your breath as you pulled the threaded through and repeated the action, again and again. His blood stained your fingertips and when you reached the end, he stilled your hand and took the needle from you. He looked down as he knotted the tail and you barely kept from tripping over the coffee table as you retreated.

“Go. Pack a bag,” He pushed himself to his feet as he tossed the thread in the kit and slid the needle back into the plastic. “I’ve gotta make a call. I doubt they’ll let you stay here any longer.”

“Where will I go?” You asked as you rubbed your fingertips, still wet with his blood.

“Somewhere safe. I promise.” He said as he wiped his hands on his tee shirt. He looked around and bent to retrieve his phone from beside the tv stand. “But right now, we don’t have time for all the questions.”

You just nodded as he dialed and retreated to wash your hands. 

As your adrenaline slaked away, your hangover became more apparent. Not only your head, but your entire body ached. Had it been worth fleeting moments of oblivion?

You went to your bedroom and dug around the closet for the wrinkled old duffel bag. It felt hopeless; futile. Even with Bucky there, that monster had almost gotten to you. Was there anywhere he could keep you safe?

You shoved some clothes in the bag and went to the bathroom to grab your toothbrush and other toiletries. You heard Bucky talking and the distant voice buzzing from the speaker.

“We need somewhere more secure. I understand, I didn’t expect it so soon but… well, he knows now. He’s going to be even more desperate…”

You zipped up the duffel and marched out to the living room. You plopped it on the floor and crossed your arms. Bucky hung up as he turned to you, dropping his fingers from the blinds he’d been peeking through.

“You said he would hide for a bit,” you said. “But… why is he doing all this?”

“We’re just going of the BSU assessment. They can be wrong. They can draw up a whole profile but it’s almost impossible to predict what these types do next. We went off similar cases, similar circumstances. But like I said, this isn’t our typical suspect.”

“Uh huh, and yet you won’t tell me how. And he’s dangerous enough to almost get past you--”

“Not even close,” Bucky insisted. “Honey, come on. I do this all the time. You have no idea what the fuck we’re dealing with so stop it with the questions and go get changed. Back up’s on the way.”

You flinched at his tone. You huffed and shook your head. You went back to the bedroom and pulled out some jeans and a long-sleeve sweatshirt. You really didn’t care what you looked like.

When you entered the living room again, Bucky dropped your bag closer to the door. You crossed your arms as he took his hoodie from over the back of the couch and zipped it up over his bare torso. You grabbed your phone from the shelf where it was charging and he was on you in an instant. His hand covered yours, the metal cold and hard.

“You have to leave it,” he said. “We can’t compromise our new position.”

“What? But--”

“What do you think is going on right now? Life as you know it is over. No more phone,” he yanked the cell from your grasp, “No more apartment, no more work.” You grimaced and held up your phone. He squeezed until you heard it crack and it bent in his metal grip. “You got to trust me.”

“What the fuck? You didn’t have to do that.” You stared at your broken phone as he dropped it back on the shelf.

“Honey, you gotta start listening to me. Fuck around and I can’t protect you.”

Your lip twitched. Honey, honey, honey. That wasn’t your name. You shrugged and spun away from him.

“When are we going?” You asked.

“Soon,” Bucky said, “Get your coat, your shoes. I’m just waiting for the call.”

You brushed by him and pulled on your boots, ignoring your heels. You grabbed your jacket and you heard a soft vibe. Bucky reached over your shoulder as he took his own coat and stepped into his own boots. He exhaled as he checked his phone.

“Alright, let’s go. Back door.” He directed as he turned the lock, “Come on.”

He opened the door and grabbed your duffel. He waved you into the hall and locked the door behind him with one hand. He tucked away his key and nudged you onward. Only the stomp of your boots sounded as you hurried down the stairwell and he pushed by you to open the heavy door.

He ushered you out into the early morning chill and caught your elbow as he followed you. He urged you across the parking lot to a black car with tinted windows just at the edge of the tarmac. He opened the back door and tossed our bag inside.

“Get in,” he said as he looked around. “Now.”

You ducked through the door and Bucky climbed in the passenger seat. You blinked as you caught a glimpse of the driver in the rearview. Then he turned to nod at Bucky and you recognized him. Steve Rogers greeted his old friend with a quiet ‘hey’.

“Go,” Bucky demanded. 

“No introductions?” Steve put the car in gear and pulled past the rows of cars.

“This is Steve,” Bucky said sharply as he looked back at you, “I know you’ve read the case file. You already know her.”

“Where are we going?” You asked softly as you leaned on the duffel.

“Safe house. About two hours out,” Steve answered before Bucky could. “You’ll be safe there.”

You chewed your lip. Well, surely two was better than one and yet Captain America’s presence was hardly reassuring. That just confirmed to you how fucked this whole situation was.

“Fury didn’t like the last minute notice but he understood,” Steve said to Bucky.

“Mmm, we can talk about it later.” Bucky grumbled. “Honey, why don’t you get some more sleep. It’s gonna be a long ride.”

Steve peeked at you in the mirror as he turned out of the parking lot. He glanced at Bucky next but stayed quiet as his eyes returned to the road.

“Take your own advice, Buck,” Steve snickered. “You both look like you need it.”

👁️

You didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. A mixture of anxiety and the shadow of alcohol kept you awake. Even so, you closed your eyes and kept quiet in the backseat. The motion of the road lulled you and helped ease your headache. Few words passed between the men up front.

When you did open your eyes, tall trees passed you by and lined the winding road ahead. You were well out of the city but couldn't guess where. Maybe you should have paid attention. Or not. It was better to be far away, to lose yourself in hopes your stalker would as well.

The cabin was nothing special. It looked like any other retreat away from the world. Deep in the heart of the forest, it felt an entirely different world. As Steve killed the engine, you sat up and unbuckled your seat belt. You slid out of the backseat with your bag in hand as Bucky went to the trunk and pulled out a bag of his own. Steve did the same and checked the time on his watch.

You followed Steve as Bucky stayed to your rear. You didn't miss his hand on his knife or the way he looked around. Up the steps, you wait as Steve pressed his hand over the sign that said “home sweet home" and the door clicked. He nudged the door open with his foot and let you in. Bucky closed the door and the latch whirred loudly back into place.

Steve turned and opened a panel beside the door. He pressed a finger against the screen and quickly typed in several codes. A sudden lurch and the shudders rose on their own; metal slats folding and rolling up in unison. The lights all flicked on at once and the growl of a generator rose from below.

"Windows are bulletproof. There's no way in or out without one of us," Steve pointed between himself and Bucky, "And most assuredly, you have two super soldiers watching your back." 

"Mmhmm," you muttered as you looked around. "Well, I think it's bad enough I even need two."

"Well better than none," Bucky said. "Steve, you can show her around. I need to call HQ, give a description of this guy before it's too far gone."

"Sure," Steve said and waved Bucky off. He turned to you as he unzipped his coat. "Not sure why he's asking me. I've never been to this one before."

"How long will I be here?" You asked as you took of your jacket and he took it from you to hang it over his own. 

"Well," he leaned on the wall as he removed his boots, "I hope not too long. If Bucky got a good look at this guy, no more than a week or two. "

"So… you know… everything?"

"I've caught up," he said, "Not gonna lie, it's… intense but you shouldn't worry. Me and Bucky, we've never had a mission we couldn't handle."

"Guess it's better than being on my own," you said. "I just… why me?"

He tucked his hands in his pocket and looked at you. "Well, from what I know, these types rarely have logical reasoning. You can't blame yourself." He shifted his weight on his feet, "Hey," he pointed behind you to the next room, "A woodstove. How about that?"

👁️

When Steve finished the tour, or rather aimless wandering, of the safe house, he let you pick a room. There were several and you didn’t give much thought to your choice. You just wanted somewhere to relax. It was barely after noon and already it felt like the day had dragged on. After such a terrifying night, you had been thoroughly unprepared for the startling reality of the day.

He left you to seemingly ordinary room. A double bed, plaid duvet, chestnut night tables and a matching dresser. A carpet woven in the Navajo fashion was sprawled across the floor and a small desk looked out the window. A portrait of pine and maple seemed to mirror the view on the opposite wall and added to the cabin’s cozy allure.

You placed your duffel atop the dresser and slid open one drawer at a time as you unpacked your hastily collected attire. Two pairs of jeans, a pair of pajamas, a pair of loose shorts, socks, several shirts with vary styles and sleeve lengths, a second bra, and your scramble of toiletries. The only thing that was missing were your underwear. You swore you had grabbed those first as they lined your top drawer but they were no where to be found in your mess.

You could’ve overlooked them. Easily. You were so rattled, so hollow, so suffocated by terror that you couldn’t think of much but the smell of blood and the voice that grew clearer and clear in your mind.

Your head continued to pulse with the dregs of your previous night’s excess and the bile boiled in your stomach. You sat on the bed and held your head. You took a breath, restless despite your fatigue, and sighed. You hadn’t done anything and yet it felt as if you had dug yourself into the hole. As if no matter what you did, the pit got deeper and deeper and soon the dirt would start to pile in on you.

You shook off your despair and stood so quickly you stumbled. You needed to just stop. You needed to breathe; calm down. As blunt as Bucky could be, he was often right. You had him and Steve looking out for you.

You peeked out into the hallway and listened. You heard the two men talking but they were not close enough to decipher their words. You stepped out and crossed to the washroom just opposite your room. You locked yourself in and searched the cupboard for a towel. There were at least a dozen to your surprise and you hung one over the bar before you twisted the faucet on.

Anything to wash away your hangover. To cleanse you of the constant dread of your existence. A couple minutes under a hot shower to forget. A few moment for yourself. To just be.

You undressed and winced as the peculiar pain between your legs. You’d felt tender for much of the day and assumed maybe the stress was bringing on an early period. No blood, however. You felt grimy as you peeled off your layers and stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked as worn out as you felt.

You slipped past the curtain and welcomed the sheer heat of the downpour. You let it wash over you, let the steam smother you, let the rivulets slake over you and swirl down the drain. It was second, minutes, hours, eons… you could not tell.

You were sleepy as you turned off the tap. You wrapped yourself in the fluffy white towel and gather your clothes. There wasn’t much for you to do here; Steve had said as much. You stepped out into the hall and were startled by the figure in your bedroom door. Bucky turned to face you. His eyes flicked down for just a moment as you clutched your towel.

“I knocked,” he said. “I didn’t realise--”

“It’s fine. What do you need?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“As good as I can be,” the warmth seeped from you as the air nipped at your bare skin, “Thanks.”

“Good, good,” he nodded and smiled awkwardly. “I have a favour to ask you.”

“A favour?” You hugged your clothes in one arm as you kept your distance.

“Well, we only have rations really in the cupboards. Not very good. Vacuum sealed and bland. So thought maybe you could make a list and me and Steve could take care of that tomorrow.” He explained. “And anything else you need. Shampoo, toothpaste, whatever…”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you pressed your lips together. “You mind if I, uh, get dressed then get back to you?”

“Y-yeah,” he seemed to realise he was blocking your door, “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be downstairs. We’re just going over some evidence.”

“Alright,” you sidled past him. “I’ll be down soon.”

You quickly closed your door and leaned against it. You listened through the thick wood. You heard a soft tap and the drag of something against the other side. A whisper you could not discern before his footsteps finally retreated. Odd but perhaps you were only hearing things. Paranoia could make the tallest tales seem true.

You dressed, mournful of your forgotten underwear, and made your way downstairs. Bucky sat with his back to you as you entered the dining room, a chandelier with fake candles hung from the ceiling and cast hazy shadows along the walls. Steve sat to his left and slid over a piece of paper. 

Both heard you enter and looked over at you; Steve smiled, Bucky stared pensively.

“I can make that list now,” you neared as you hugged yourself. “It’s chilly in here.”

“Oh…” Steve looked down then scoffed, “Yeah, afraid we’re not so sensitive to it. We tend to forget.” He stood and stretched his arms. “I’ll go figure out the furnace.”

“So, have you--” Your voice caught in your throat as you neared. You caught sight of the frantic scribbles, the smeared led across the paper. Bucky tried to sweep the sheet into a folder but you stopped him as Steve froze behind his chair. “What is that?”

He didn’t need to tell you. It was a drawing of you, crude but discernible. You were bound and naked, legs wide and there was blood smeared down your chest. You gaped at the sketch and shook your head. Bucky stood slowly.

“He did this?” You rasped. “How many-- how many of these has he done?”

“It’s confidential,” Bucky snatched the paper and placed it in the folder. “You shouldn’t be looking at all this.”

“After last night? After he broke into my apartment this morning?! What am I supposed to do? How can I do anything if I know nothing?”

“We are taking care of it,” Bucky grabbed your shoulders. “So you just be a good girl and let us.”

“I can’t do nothing! Please, do you have any idea what it’s like? All I can think of is this-- this monster and everything he’s done. What he’s gonna do to me.” You latched onto his wrists and tried to pull him away. “I almost just wish he’d have it done with.”

Bucky growled and Steve warned him with a hum. He dropped his hands and backed away from you. He stacked up the folders and looked at Steve.

“Take her back to her room before you deal with the heat,” Bucky said. “Lock her in if you have to.”

“What? You can’t--”

“Honey, I can do whatever I want to keep you safe,” he pointed a finger in your face. “I have the clearance.”

You snorted and glanced at Steve. He gave a pitiful look in return. He motioned to the doorway as he raised his brows in exasperation. You didn’t look at Bucky again as you turned and stormed out ahead of Steve. As he caught up to you at the bottom of the stairs, he kept his voice low.

“I won’t lock you in,” he said, “Just don’t push him. He just needs time.”

“He needs time?” You scoffed.

“Look, he told me what happened this morning. He’s not the type to be left bleeding like that.” Steve explained, “And he really does want to keep you safe.”

[writing-essence]

Fear (Part 6) - Jonathan Crane

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x (female) reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Needles, Mention of Paranoia + Insomnia, Mention of sex

Summary: Jonathan meets reader’s roommate + boyfriend. 

Author’s Note: Apparently I’m on a role tonight - Kelsie

Word Count: 1,913

Your talk with Jonathan eased your nerves quite a bit. You ended up sleeping that night and unfortunately through all of your Wednesday classes the next day.

“What the hell,” Chris said from the doorway of your bedroom.

You rolled over sleepily in bed, still waking up.

“What?”

“Don’t you have econ today?” She said, one hand on her hip and the other holding her bright pink flip phone up to her ear. You could hear laughing coming from it.

“Mind your own business,” You groaned, throwing a pillow at her which she easily dodged, “and tell your boyfriend to fuck off,”

“She says to fuck off,” She giggled into her phone before spinning around and leaving.

“Close my door,” You yelled, but she ignored you. You slowly got up and finally realized how long you had actually slept.

“Fuck,” You mumbled under your breath. You were already behind in econ, and this definitely won’t help.

You stumbled into the living room where Chris laid on the couch, still on the phone while the TV played FRIENDS loudly. Grabbing the remote, you turned it down, quickly earning a glare from your roommate.

After grabbing a cup of now cold coffee from the kitchen, you sat down at the bulky computer in your living room to check if your econ professor emailed you about missing class. You were surprised to see an email from Jonathan.

“Y/N, I finished the serum. I can give it to you during Thursday’s class or I can drop it off tonight if you really need it -Dr. Crane,”

You didn’t feel like you needed it as much as before now that you caught up on your sleep, but you couldn’t pass up seeing your teacher crush today. You quickly crafted a response telling him that you’ll be home all night and he could swing it by when he was able to. You ended it with your address before sending it.

“Rex is coming over later,” Chris called from the couch, flipping her phone shut loudly, “Look presentable,”

You groaned loudly and sunk down in the creaky desk chair dramatically, “I’m not getting ready for your douchebag of a boyfriend,”

“Can you at least try to get along with him,” She said, turning the TV back up, “It would mean a lot to me,”

You rolled your eyes and got up from the desk quickly.

“I’m going to get ready,” You said, passing her to get back into your room, “But it’s not for him,”

-

Several hours later you were stuck in an UNO game with Chris and her boyfriend. You didn’t want to hurt Chris’ feelings by never hanging out with them, but when they were together they shared a single brain cell.

“When do you say UNO?” Rex asked, examining the large amount of cards in his hands.

“When you have one left,” You mumbled, anxiously looking back at the clock in the kitchen behind you. Jonathan said he would be dropping the serum off soon, and you didn’t want him meeting Rex.

“Draw four,” Chris said confidently, placing down a +2 card.

“Can you not read?” You asked, pointing at the card in front of her.

She slapped her face quickly. A deep blush was set in her cheeks and she had been sipping on wine all night so you knew that she was a bit tipsy, but their shared stupidity was getting on your nerves.

A loud knock came from the front door behind you and you jumped quickly out of your seat to get it.

“Is that the pizza?” Rex asked, leaning over the table obnoxiously to see.

“We didn’t order pizza, we just talked about it,” Chris laughed, pouring herself another glass of wine.

You swung the door open quickly and were face to face with the professor once again. You prayed he couldn’t see the mess happening at the dining table from the door as you awkwardly attempted to take up the frame so he couldn’t see past.

“Hey,” You said breathlessly, attempting to be casual.

“Hi..” He awkwardly held out a paper bag, “The serum is in there, you should only need one dose,”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, opening it and looking inside.

“I wasn’t able to test it on anyone,” He said, watching you cautiously, “Try to keep me updated on how it’s affecting you when you take it,”

“Is it safe?”

Before he could answer, Rex interrupted from the dining table.

“Hey, do I know you man?” He yelled obnoxiously as he leaned over the entire dining table to see the front door.

Jonathan looked past you quizzically at the scene happening inside before back down at you, confused.

“Ignore him, please,” You begged, attempting to push him out of Rex’s vision.

“Hold on,” Rex said, jumping out of his seat, “You were my Psych professor last year at GSU,”

“Ah,” Jonathan nodded quickly, ignoring your attempts to push him away from the door, “Rex, right?”

“Yea man,” Rex said, coming over to where the two of you were standing, “What are you doing here?”

“Y/N is dating him,” Chris giggled from the dining table before she quickly downed another glass of wine.

A deep blush was shared between both you and Jonathan and you quickly tried to regain control over the situation.

“He was just dropping something off,” You said quickly, “In fact, he was just leaving,”

“No man,” Rex said, grabbing Jonathans upper arm and quickly pulling him inside of your apartment, “Stay and play UNO with us,”

Jonathan looked over at you with a nervous look on his face and you shook your head quickly.

“Oh my gosh yes,” Chris slurred from the table, “We were just about to order pizza,”

“Hell yea,” Rex cheered, giving Jonathan a rough slap on his back before joining Chris back at the table.

“I’m so sorry,” You quickly reached over and readjusted Jonathans suit jacket that had gotten messed up from Rex, “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, they’re just obnoxious,”

“It’s okay,” He blushed as you reached up and brushed his hair out of his face, “I have some time,”

“Yay,” Chris cheered loudly, “Do you drink wine?”

-

To say you were embarrassed as an understatement. You felt horrible having Jonathan now stuck in an UNO game with tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber.

“Do you have any…” Chris narrowed her eyes at her cards as she swayed in place, “7s?”

Rex handed over a few cards, confused, “Hey, how come you get to take cards now?”

“That’s ‘Go Fish’,” You mumbled, rubbing your head which was now starting to hurt, “You don’t ask for cards in UNO, you draw them,”

Chris started giggling hysterically, “I think I drank too much,”

“You think?” You mumbled, shooting an apologetic glance over at Jonathan who just smiled back softly.

“When do you say UNO again?” Rex asked for the second time that night.

“Alright,” You slammed your cards down on the table, defeated, “I’m not playing anymore, you guys are too dumb for UNO,”

Chris continued giggling in her seat as Rex shot you an offended look.

“I’m not dumb,” He said, watching as you stood up and ushered for Jonathan to do the same, “I dropped out of school on purpose,”

“You failed 5 classes,” Chris giggled from beside him.

“We’re leaving,” You groaned, leading Jonathan back to the front door.

“I’m so sorry,” You said, quickly pulling him into the hallway outside of your apartment. The dim light above you buzzed loudly.

“It’s okay,” He smiled at you again, “I enjoy spending time with you,”

You raised your eyebrows, impressed, “Are you flirting with me Professor?”

He rolled his eyes and turned away from you awkwardly as another blush spread across his face.

“Honestly I thought you wouldn't want to have anything to do with me after I said I wouldn't help with your fear toxin,” You mumbled.

“I told you, that was mostly just an excuse to get you to go out with me,” He said, still avoiding eye contact.

“We should go on an actual date,” You suggested eagerly, stepping closer towards him, “Like out to get drinks without Rex or Chris annoying us,”

“And no drugs,” He joked, finally looking back at you.

“Okay well now it just sounds lame,”

He laughed softly and you felt your heart soar. You had never heard him laugh before. You stood shocked for a moment as he fumbled to get his phone open.

“I’m not doing anything tomorrow after class,” He said, still looking at his phone, “If you’re free then,”

“I am,” You said, still watching him closely. You wanted to kiss him at that moment, but before you got the chance he shoved his phone back in his pocket and awkwardly stepped back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class then?” He said, offering an awkward smile.

“Okay,” You said softly, waiting for him to at least give you a hug goodbye.

“Keep me updated with the serum,” He reminded you before turning around and quickly leaving toward the elevator.

You stood silently in front of your apartment door for a moment before going back inside, disappointed.

“Did you kiss?” Chris slurred jokingly from the dining table still.

“Did you have sex?” Rex added in, earning a weak slap on the arm from Chris.

“You guys are so fucking embarassing,” You said angirly walking back towards the table where they sat, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t act normal for two seconds?”

“I think we’re fun,” Chris said, a pouty look setting into her face.

“It’s not fun,” You groaned, grabbing the paper bag with the serum before leaving towards your room, “I barely know this guy. The least you could’ve done was be sober,”

You slammed the door behind you and sunk to the ground, embarrassed about the previous events. Surely Jonathan wouldn’t ever want to come visit again. It was mortifying.

You tried to stop thinking about it and quickly pulled the serum from the paper bag to examine. It was a tiny needle with a small amount of liquid inside. Your stomach dropped as you realized you had to inject it yourself. Your night kept getting worse and worse.

You took the cap off of the needle and took a deep breath before injecting it quickly into your left arm. It was immediately painful, your whole arm warming up almost as if it was on fire. You stifled your groans by burying your face into your lap and quickly fell over into a fetal position on the floor. An instant dizziness set in and you started to wonder how the serum was actually supposed to work. There was no one time medication for paranoia or insomnia. Jonathan could’ve given you poison and you didn’t even question it. In fact, you injected it yourself. Why did you trust this man so much? You just told Chris you barely know this guy and suddenly you're injecting yourself with “serums” he perscribes?

The more you thought about it the more nervous you got. He barely told you anything about his past or where he was from. He kept it all obscure. The truth was, you didn’t know him at all. Before you could panic more, the serum overtook you with drowsiness and you passed out quickly on your bedroom floor, forgetting to set an alarm for your class the next day.

[lovelyirony]

hi hello i am feeling very angsty so: rhodeytony ft tony's worrying lack of interest in avoiding getting kidnapped and his bodyguard rhodes' increasing stress levels to save a boss that doesn't want to be saved (and, if the flutter in his heart should be anything to go by - should not be his boss anymore). bodyguard to lovers??

Rhodey is a good bodyguard. Hell, he’s the best. 

That was why Pepper Potts hired him, after all. He’s not easy to fool, can follow anyone with a dogged determination that nearly defies human nature. He’s had successful stories before with glowing reviews from multiple people from all different threatened backgrounds. 

(Including at least three world leaders and a pope.) 

Tony Stark is...new. Well, nearly new. He’s a businessman, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary for Rhodey to deal with. 

…except Tony’s highly eclectic, a billionaire, and purposely makes his behavior as erratic as possible. 

It’s fun. What can Rhodey say? He loves a challenge, and Tony is about as challenging as they come. 

-

When he first starts, Tony tries every trick in the book. Rhodey still sticks to him, although he does leave some distance. Tony tries to make him uncomfortable by bringing just about everyone who looks home, and all Rhodey says is, “you gonna feed them cereal when they wake up? Because that’s all you have in your pantry right now, and you don’t pay me to do the shopping.” 

Tony scowls at that, and then changes his strategy. 

-

It’s an odd strategy. 

Tony decides he will just make Rhodey his friend, starting with the nickname of “Rhodey.” 

“That’s stupid,” Rhodey says, because he can already tell it will stick. 

“Not my problem, just my solution,” Tony grins. “Now come on, we’re getting burgers.” 

They’re at a sit-down restaurant. One of Tony’s favorites, actually. Rhodey is not sure why he’s sitting down across from the man with the most influence in the world, but he is. 

“So, what’s new with you? Who are you?” Tony asks. “Pepper sent me your file. You’re from Philly, right?” 

“Oh my god, you sound weird when you say it like that,” Rhodey says, deciding against formality as he basically tells Tony Stark that he sounds weird and shouldn’t say “Philly.” 

“Oh what, is that not what the locals call it?” 

“I’m going to take you there and they’re going to beat you up.” 

“Not the worst Sunday night I’ve ever had,” Tony mentions. “Hey, look at the menu. I don’t want you to flounder when the waitress shows up and you know fuck-all about what they have to offer.” 

“Okay asshole, any recommendations?” 

“The banana milkshake and bacon-burger.” 

Rhodey looks at the menu. 

He does end up with the bacon-burger, but chooses strawberry for his flavor of milkshake. 

“You traitor.” 

“Oh am I? Well then let me tell Pepper that you stole the last good pen she had then-” 

Tony flings a fry at him, and Rhodey laughs. 

- 

Here’s a concerning thing: Tony has a very “c’est la vie” approach about kidnapping. 

Like he genuinely doesn’t really give a shit if he knows what’s going on, or even if he doesn’t. 

Rhodey was eagle-eyed and chased a van three fucking blocks and caught up to the driver, wherein he punched his lights out and got Tony out. His hands were bound in zip-ties and his suit was rumpled, but Tony just blinked at him. 

“You think you broke a racing record with that?” 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they take anything?” 

Rhodey’s all over Tony, checking for any injuries, any stolen wallets or watches, and thank god everything is there. (Not that Tony would really care if anything was stolen, save for his sunglasses. He spends far too much on those, in Rhodey’s opinion.) 

“Okay geez,” Tony says, batting Rhodey’s hands away. “I’m fine. These people were amateurs. Shit, I’m running late for my consultation meeting, aren’t I?” 

“You just got kidnapped,” Rhodey says, tone rife with disbelief. “You just got taken and your concern is with the consultation meeting?” 

“Well I figured that you were going to come by or I’d be gone a lot longer, but now that I’m not? Yeah. Yeah, I am concerned with the consultation meeting. It’s a tech start-up company, only not that shitty Silicon-nice-guy start-up. It’s a more inclusive thing. I don’t know, I read their little ‘about’ section on their website. Which needs work. But that’s besides the point.” 

Rhodey just follows, dumb in disbelief. 

The few rare times that previous clients have been kidnapped or even attempted, they’ve needed a day to recuperate at minimum. They were shaken up, and usually beefed up the security for the rest of time after it. They also scheduled therapy appointments. 

Tony treated this like it was a traffic jam and he was only running five minutes behind. 

- 

The second time it happens when Rhodey’s there, it lasts a little longer. 

Rhodey has to admit, he maybe did some...under-the-radar looks. The FBI wasn’t moving fast enough, and the legal channels weren’t up to snuff. And besides, Tony did say that he could use Jarvis if he really wanted to. 

(Turns out they both went to MIT at the same time, and Tony had been that obnoxiously short guy in his econ class that rarely showed up, but when he did he showed up in a suspiciously nice outfit.) 

It was a weekend. Rhodey had gone away for two seconds to get a drink for Tony and then he was gone. 

It was...bad. 

The problem is this: 

Tony definitely doesn’t need to be kidnapped as often as he is. He has so many inventions that can prevent that, he’s sold quite a few of them to the military. 

But for some fucking reason, he doesn’t want to be saved. No, he’s content just going along with what’s happening, even though everyone else around him wants him back. Needs him back. 

He finds him bruised and tied up to a shitty folding chair. 

“Hey darling,” Tony says, lips a bloody red. “Can you believe this chair? I would’ve thought they would at least have gotten something a tad nicer. I am their best-dressed guest, after all.” 

Rhodey looks over the torn shirt and the pants that have all but been shredded. His shoes are battered and stained beyond repair. 

“Don’t,” Rhodey says. He sounds tired. He is tired. “Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what, get kidnapped? I hardly try,” Tony snaps. “Or do I just have a sign on my back that you didn’t know was there?” 

“You know I was in the Air Force,” Rhodey snaps back. “I got high enough clearance that I was one of the guys who got to see what brand new toy you sent our way. I know you could use any of those, shit, you probably tested it out, so you would know.” 

“And your point?” Tony asks. “What, you’re saying I should know better? Saying you know better than me?” 

“You know what? Yeah, yeah I am saying that,” Rhodey yells as he’s untying him. “I am fucking saying that I know more than you because you couldn’t give less of a shit if you tried about your own well-being! You were kidnapped and I’ve been running myself ragged trying to get you back, and you just don’t care!” 

Tony stares at him. Really stares at him. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Nothing else is said in the car ride home. Tony can’t even look at Rhodey. 

They go home, where Pepper greets Tony with a hug and makes him swear not to leave again, and Tony says “I promise,” only they both know that he’s lying. 

But they’re not calling him out on it yet. No, not tonight. 

- 

Rhodey stays. Technically he doesn’t have to. Jarvis is the most advanced artificial intelligence system in the world. Hell, he’s the only one that’s even in his league, but Rhodey just...feels better staying. 

And Tony’s mansion is a gargantuan structure with about twenty different rooms to choose from, so Rhodey gets a nice view and tries to go to bed. 

He’s never gotten enough sleep. He knows he never would. That’s why the army loved him: he could be up at any hour and he’d be fine. That’s why his dad called him the bane of his existence in a loving manner: Rhodey would be up at four in the morning filling out the crossword before anyone else could. 

He’s up at four a.m. making breakfast. 

Tony’s pantry is still shit, but it looks like Pepper went shopping for him or had someone else do it, because he actually has eggs and juice and actual food instead of the odd pickle jar or way-too-old yogurt. 

“You’re...up,” Tony says. 

Rhodey turns around. 

“Sorry. I, um. Stayed.” 

“It’s fine,” Tony says awkwardly. “What are you making?” 

“Omelet.” 

“I always mess those up,” he says. “Either too much cheese or I forget I’m cooking it.” 

“You want one?” 

“You gonna make me one?” 

“Accidentally cracked one too many eggs, so yes. You want onions and spinach in yours?” 

“Sure,” Tony says. “What are you doing up?” 

“Always bad at sleeping,” Rhodey answers. “Can never really stay asleep for too long.” 

“Forget to take your melatonin gummies?” Tony answers, grinning. 

Rhodey can see a bruise on his collarbone. 

“You sleep okay?” 

“No, but I rarely ever do,” Tony says. “Especially after yesterday’s fiasco.” 

“You mean the whole weekend,” Rhodey says, putting the rest of the eggs into the pan. “Can’t imagine that was fun.” 

“Oh come on, it was a ball,” Tony answers sarcastically. “They let me play cops-and-robbers and I was given pizza. Clearly it was a fantastic time.” 

Rhodey stares at Tony. 

“You know in the contract that I had you sign it specifically states that you have to let me help you, right?” 

“It says you have to rescue me regardless of feelings or previous obligations,” Tony says. 

“Rescuing you doesn’t just mean I chase after vans and track you down in an abandoned warehouse, it means that I rescue you from those situations before they can happen. But I can only do that if you agree that you won’t get kidnapped,” he says. 

“And what, I want to?” Tony asks. “Do I say that?” 

“You don’t have to,” Rhodey says, flipping the omelet over. “You never think you’re worth rescuing it because you think you’re never going to be good enough and I think you think that you owe me for giving a shit.” 

Tony looks at him. 

“You’re really honest.” 

“I try to be.” 

“I love that about you.” 

Rhodey’s hand shakes slightly as he moves the omelet a bit in the pan. He hopes Tony doesn’t notice. 

“Well I would love it if you stopped being kidnapped.” 

“Aye aye, Colonel Rhodes,” Tony says, saluting. Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh my god, do not.” 

“What, am I not supposed to thank our armed services for making this country safe?” he mocks, standing up. “For going above and beyond the call of patriotism and helping keep Americans everywhere safe?” 

Rhodey threatens to eat his omelet when he breaks into singing the national anthem. 

- 

There’s an...understanding. 

Tony starts taking up training with Happy and almost agrees to regular training with Rhodey until Rhodey wants him to get up at six and do some workouts, and he yells “No!” after one workout session. 

Rhodey pointedly pretends like he’s not staring at Tony’s chest when he lifts up his shirt to wipe away the sweat. 

“Come on Rhodey my darling, let’s do breakfast.” 

Tony dragging him to breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. It’s...nice. Rhodey ignores it when Tony waggles his eyebrows as he takes the check and calls him “darling, honey, baby,” and he lets him because it sounds nice. 

He doesn’t say anything to Tony. No, you can’t date your boss. It’s unprofessional as hell and Tony probably is just doing it because Rhodey’s in close proximity and they have a good banter going. 

- 

The next time that Tony has an attempted kidnapping, Rhodey is there. 

He’s there, and he’s being taken away, dragged from Tony, and Tony for the first time looks terrified. 

Rhodey tries to struggle, tries to do anything, because Tony has to get away, and he...

He’s knocked unconscious. 

-

When he wakes up, his head hurts worse than it ever has, and for a moment he’s pissed at Tony because he forgets that he’s been kidnapped and there’s no control over the thermostat because the room is hot as all get out. 

And then he sees Tony across from him, and he’s never seen Tony angry. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, voice shaking. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise. I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault we have assholes take us,” Rhodey says. “But god I would kill for some air conditioning.” 

Tony smiles a bit at that. 

- 

Here’s a problem: you cannot give Tony Stark anything if you want him to not escape. Either that or he has to be unconscious because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. 

And they used actual handcuffs to keep him there. God, what a joke. 

Tony learned how to break out of handcuffs when he was twenty and chained to a bedpost on accident. (Long story.) 

This is nothing. 

But the problem is that Rhodey’s here. His bodyguard who really shouldn’t be putting his life on the line for someone as shitty as Tony, but here they are, and he has to get him out. 

“Follow my lead,” Tony whispers. 

“Well of course I will, who else has as much experience being kidnapped as you?” Rhodey mutters. 

“Okay is now going to be the time where you sass me? You’re here too. I could leave you.” 

“You’re not gonna do that, Pepper would make you come back.” 

“No she wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah she would!” 

“Not after I tell her that you used the last of her salad dressing.” 

“Shit.” 

Tony snorts, looking at the room. They don’t have security cameras, which is just...questionable. Oh my god, he got kidnapped by amateurs. 

He’s kind of embarrassed. 

Rhodey gets free, and they’re both headed towards a door, and Rhodey picks up a stray part of a metal pole, and Tony cannot lie and say he’s not intrigued by that. 

Not saying he hopes Rhodey gets to use it. 

He’s just curious how he’ll utilize it. 

- 

They get to just. Walk out. They fucking walk out. What kind of people did they get kidnapped from? It can’t be that easy, can it? 

It can’t be...

It is. 

Okay sure Tony is driving in a hotwired car and they’re being shot at, but all things considered that’s not the worst thing. And the truck is probably considered stolen anyways, and once Tony makes it to the highway, it’s not like they’ll be able to follow without making it onto national news, not that they haven’t already. 

Pepper’s very effective at getting things to trend on national news when she wants to. 

- 

Rhodey is sitting on a beach chair. He shouldn’t be, and he also shouldn’t be drinking a mimosa because it’s four p.m. and definitely the morning, but he figures since he got kidnapped he’s allowed at least one mimosa. 

“So. Your first kidnapping?” Tony asks. “All things considered, yours went well. I think next time we should go to Wendy’s or something, I was starving-” 

“I’m just. I’m glad we’re okay,” Rhodey says. “But yeah. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. I’m going to I think make you hold hands with me so that you don’t get napped by terrible, shitty people.” 

“You could’ve just asked to hold my hand, we didn’t need to be kidnapped together,” Tony says. 

“Hm, is that a breach of contract?” Rhodey teases. 

“Only if Pepper decides to enforce it, and she won’t because you’re the first bodyguard to have an actual success story with me,” Tony says. “So. I’m thinking maybe we skip the kidnapping next time and go straight for dinner.” 

“Oh thank god, I thought you were gonna say a fast food restaurant.” 

“I still could, you don’t know,” Tony grins, winking. “What if our first date is to Burger King? What are you gonna do?” 

“Be mad that I still like you,” Rhodey grumbles. 

Tony cackles, dropping a kiss onto his hand. 

“Do you think I should get another bodyguard or will dragging you away during a party be too awkward for them?” 

“...I’ll think about it.” 

(They don’t get a new bodyguard. 

No matter how much the other security complains that Rhodey’s the only one who knows where Tony is at all times, and they can’t exactly ask them if they’re busy doing...things. 

Rhodey finds it hilarious.) 

[collecting-stories]

Dinner Date - Rafe Cameron

Request: Hello friend <3 can I please request Rafe with "You said I get to have you all weekend, why can’t you just tell them you can’t go" and "Can we stay home so I can fuck your brains out?"

A/N: I alluded to Gilmore Girls slightly in the beginning. 

Outer Banks Masterlist 

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You sat on the counter top in the kitchen, legs dangling over the edge as you listened to your mom give you what felt like the hundredth reason why you couldn’t possibly skip dinner with your grandparents in the city.  

“They’re only here for the weekend sweetie, I promised we would have a nice family dinner together.” She insisted, her voice shrill through the phone.  

“I see granddad all the time,” you reminded her. They lived thirty minutes outside the city and it was hardly a city at all.  

“And what? Your grandmother and I don’t want to see you?”

You frowned, looking passed the island to the bed across the room in your studio apartment. Still asleep, Rafe looked absolutely gorgeous but you could already hear his grumpy protests when you told him that you had been roped into a dinner. Your mom still didn’t know you were dating and if you told her that the reason you couldn’t make dinner with your grandparents was laying naked in your bed, she would probably drive to your apartment right now to meet him. She’d been bugging you to date for the better part of a year and you had been avoiding telling her that you were.  

“I have a lot of homework.” You replied despite having finished all your school work for the week yesterday, before Rafe got there for the long weekend.

“An hour of your time won’t kill you.” She argued.  

“Fine, you win. I’ll see you at the restaurant at seven.” You promised, sliding off the counter and hanging up your phone. You left it in the kitchen to charge as you walked over to the bed, climbing on it and moving up the mattress to straddle Rafe, knees on either side of his hips.  

You rested your hands on his bare chest, running them down to his abdomen and feeling his muscles tense as your nails scratched at his skin. Rafe groaned when you leaned over and kissed his neck, moving up to his jaw. His eyes fluttered open as he grabbed at the back of your thighs.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled, blue eyes meeting yours. You bit your bottom lip as you looked down at him nervously. If there was anything Rafe knew about you it was that you had a routine in the morning and you were never the one to willingly break it.

“I might have agreed to dinner with my mom and grandparents,” you admitted.  

“You said I get to have you all weekend, why can’t you just tell them you can’t go?” He practically whined, eyes rolling up to look at the ceiling as you continued on kissing him, lips brushing over his adam’s apple as you spoke.  

“You could come with me?” You suggest. Telling your mom about Rafe without warning him wasn’t something you wanted to subject him too but you thought it wouldn’t be half bad to get the upper-hand for once.  

“To your family dinner?” Rafe said, lifting his head enough off the pillow that you didn’t miss the incredulous look he gave. One that screamed there was no way in hell he was going to sit through dinner with you mom and your grandparents. It was bad enough he had your grandfather as his econ professor and adviser, Rafe didn’t need him knowing that you and he were dating.  

“Please?” You pouted, “I don’t wanna go alone.”  

“So don’t go.” He replied. He pulled against your thighs, smiling when you crawled up a little further, hovering over his chest.  

“I have to.” You insisted, running a hand through his hair and tracing your fingers along his jaw and down to the base of his neck. “But you could come with me.”

“I would like to, just not to dinner.”

“Oh my god Rafe,” you laughed, shifting to get off him when his grip on your thighs tightened.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, playfulness melting into seriousness.  

“I have to get a shower.” You insisted though you made no move to get up again. Instead, when he tugged you farther up his chest you obliged, holding the headboard as you climbed up, knees on either side of his head. “I have to shower,” you repeated.

Rafe pouted before turning his head to the side to kiss your thigh, “if you loved me you would stay in bed.” He pulled at the hem of your shirt and you tried not to laugh.

“Stop, I’m gonna fall Rafe,” you swatted at his hands with one of your while the other held onto the headboard.  

“Hopefully on my face.” He replied, grinning up at you.  

You rolled your eyes, climbing off the bed and out of his hold. He made another reach for you, arm extended and just barely grazing your ass as you twisted away from him, moving toward the bathroom.  

“As cute as you are, I’m getting a shower.” You announced.  

Rafe groaned, throwing his arm over his face. “Can we just stay home so I can fuck your brains out?” He called as you walked into the bathroom.  

You stopped in the threshold, turning to look back at him still laying there covering his face overdramatically. “Does that mean you’re coming for dinner?” You asked, biting your lower lip to try and stop from smiling.  

“Fine.”

You practically skipped back into the bedroom area of the studio, kneeling one knee on the bed and leaning over Rafe to kiss him. The moment you were leaned over him, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you down and twisting so you landed on your back in the bed, Rafe hovering over you. “I have to shower.” You insisted, even as he slated a knee between your legs and you wrapped your arms around him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.  

“Yeah and I have to fuck you.”

“You have to?” You laughed when he dipped his head, mouth pressing against your neck.  

He hummed, the sound vibrating on your skin and you could feel him smile when you gripped his shoulder at the minute sensation. It was just the proof he needed that you weren’t too far from being talked into staying in bed with him. Honestly, you were convinced the moment you had climbed back in bed with him the first time.  

“Rafe,” you pulled at his hair gently, enough to alert him that you wanted his attention. “No marks.”

“As you wish.”

You couldn’t help laughing as he moved further away from your neck, pressing kisses to the top of your chest. “You’re such a dork.”  

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl  @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects  @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon