#maybe if you brought in the brands people have asked for SINCE BEFORE WE OPENED we would have customers

[sga-owns-my-soul]

wow made it three whole months at the new job before things went to absolute shit and i want to quit

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 75.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

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[written chapter]

serim went to a hallway that was desolate and dark since everyone was at the party, there she knocked and got into an elevator. when she got to the floor above, she walked around looking for hers and karina's manager, who should be with her. it was easy since most of that level were meeting rooms that were only separated by display cases. once she found those she was looking for, she entered.

"what's happening?" she crossed her arms, leaning against the glass next to the door she had just opened, without going too far into the room.

“don't lean on it, it's going to break.” karina warned her.

serim began to shake her body back and forth creating waves that made the glass move frantically, with the mere intention of contradicting the girl.

“serim.” her manager called, implying for her to stop. she rolled her eyes and this time she did obey.

“this will be quick.” the woman in charge of karina spoke.

“do we no longer have to pretend?” the youngest assumed with excitement in her voice.

serim moved her body again aggressively, making the glass tremble behind her, wanting to break the girl's peace.

“serim!” exclaimed the other three people in the room.

"what is it? say it faster.” she hurried.

“we need you to be more affectionate.” the boy let go without further ado. “the superiors asked for it.”

"no way." the eldest refused, affirming her words by swaying her head from side to side.

“oh, now you don't want to?” karina accused her.

"and you do?" she gave her a mischievous look.

"quit that." she made a disgusted expression, scrunching her nose. “i thought you liked me.” she recalled.

“i'm not going to touch you more than necessary in front of chaeyoung.”

the vain expression of the raven haired fell, being replaced by a bored, disinterested one.

“you shouldn't have brought her in the first place.” she analyzed.

“i brought my entire group, not just her.” she clarified. “and i did it to have company and not have to follow you around like a puppy all night so as not to bother you.” she added, exhausted, no longer knowing what to do to not make her angry.

“it's your job, you shouldn't bring your girlfriend.”

“it's your job too and you always get your boyfriend in the middle.” she reproached her.

“girls, i don't care.” serim's staff intervened. “resolve the sexual tension between you at another time, now we have orders to ask you to go kiss each other in front of everyone.” he informed.

"what?" the oldest exalted.

“kiss?” karina squealed, uncomfortable.

“they told us that they've heard people…” aespa's superior thought about her words. “important people,” she sighed. “who doesn't believe you two.” she summarized.

“at first they did think you were a couple, but now it simply seems like you spend a lot of time together.” the man added.

“they began to assume that you are just very close friends.” she concluded.

“your ass.” serim opined.

“how classy.” jimin gave her a judging look.

“they even theorize that maybe you're sisters.” the woman spoke as if the memory had just returned to her head.

“that's ridiculous, we look nothing alike.” the blackhaired woman claimed.

“exactly, i'm more attractive.” jang refuted, everyone looking at her in disbelief at her comment, but she only noticed karina's stupefaction. “you're pretty too, just not more than me.” she patted her on the shoulder.

“please stop talking.” the youngest asked without expression on her face.

“dude…” her manager interrupted. “that's karina from aespa.” he tried to talk some sense into the girl.

“you're my manager.” she looked at him disappointed.

“and that's karina.” he repeated, reaffirming his statement.

“listen, just give each other a kiss.” jimin's manager spoke again. “a short one, but be seen.” recommended. “and then you give the necessary explanations to your partners.” she reasoned. “we are all adults, if they're mature people they will understand that it's your job.”

“jongin shade.” serim joked.

"i'm going to hit you." the dancer threatened.

“with those tiny hands?” she pointed to them.

“okay, now i will kill you.” she raised her fist in the air.

“let's go kiss somewhere, jiminie.” she turned on her heels and opened the door behind her, leaving the place.

“serim!” she followed her angrily that she had ignored her.

they both boarded the elevator in which they had gotten there, waiting in silence for it to reach where the party was, which didn't take that long since it was only one floor.

“listen,” serim spoke. “i'm not going to kiss you.” she made it clear. “let's say we did it and that's it.”

“you're not going to jeopardize the entire plan we've been working on for two months just because you don't want to hurt your girlfriend who shouldn't even be here in the first place.” she held her arm, turning her.

“it's exactly what you do all the time.” she reproached. “let me do it once.” serim continued walking back to where the people were.

“i have never refused a company order and you know it.” jimin followed her, frustrated. “i literally moved into your house because they wanted me to.”

“jimin.” she stopped her steps in the center of the three steps that led to the floor where the people were, shifting her body to face her again. "no-"

unable to continue with her sentence with her mouth being silenced by jimin and her velvety lips that were covered in a lipstick that tasted like some fruit, one that her brain was very focused on the sensation to kiss her as if to start guessing.

jimin had kissed serim before, but this was the first time serim kissed jimin.

she was standing on a higher stair, causing jang to have to lift her head slightly to reach, their lips not fully connected. it was a caress, fleeting, still something far away. the youngest was the one who pulled away first, without giving importance to serim's eyes that admired her from below as if they had just revealed the secret for eternal life, wrapped in tenderness. karina scanned the surroundings to make sure they had been noticed.

“i think that worke-”

“they are still watching us.” serim cut her off.

she took a step forward to her, climbing that tread that separated them, taking karina by the waist once they were at the same level and pulling her into her personal space so she could kiss her again. responding to the act of affection, the girl raised her hands to the opponent's shoulders and rested them there. this time kissing in a more euphoric and voracious way, a reaction to serim's need to feel her, to somehow get out the feelings she had developed.

for karina, it felt like a fulfillment, like something that had to happen was finally done. for her job, or whatever, she was checking a box on one of her homework assignments. and it bothered her that she didn't feel out of place, nor irritating. not even the taste of cigarettes in serim's mouth disconcerted her, but rather she felt invited to try to taste it better. if she was forced to have it happen, she was at least grateful that it wasn't an unpleasant experience.

serim didn't want to break apart, she wanted to feel that softness longer, she wanted to have her in her arms at all times. the woman had even forgotten that there were people around who were surely begging these two disrespectful women to stop making out in public, but for jang the sensation of yu's mouth was addictive. so much that the latter was again who ended the contact and looked at her for a moment before completely separating her body from her and taking a few steps back. serim was going to speak and even stretched out her arm to grab her and hold her in once again, but in a spontaneous glance that she cast to her side she saw a figure that she knew well walking away. she looked in that direction again to have a better understanding of what was happening and saw minnie with a bitter expression.

then serim ran off to follow chaeyoung.

“don't you think you should stay with me for a moment at least?” karina tried to stop her, because of the credibility of her job, but the oldest did not listen to her.

[wavesmp3]

[kmg] morning at the edge of time

pairing: mingyu (svt) x reader genre: friends to lovers + hinted fwb + angst + mainly just a mess of a flash fic wc: 2.2.k warnings: perhaps a little swearing but other than that none!

when you wake up that morning, you say some lame joke. he laughs, and a siren goes off in the distance. you listen to that over him. 

it doesn’t take long to pack his things up. in fact, it takes so much less time than you had both planned. you still have an hour before you have to be at the station. 

he zips up the final piece of luggage, an old brown duffel bag that’s filled to the brim. the one you have to tug by the front pocket to get it to close all the way. you fight back something bitter coming up in your throat. it’s one of the same bags he brought on his way here. you remember watching him leave then too.  

“so,” he says finally, standing up from the zipped duffle bag and shoving his hands in his pockets. a boyish little habit that makes you feel like you’re both still 20, finding your footing in this brand new and bright place, holding onto each other and begging the other not to miss home too much. when did you stop missing home? when did he start? “do we have a little time on that schedule of yours for coffee?”

he gestures to the legal pad behind you, a bright yellow paper with your scribbled schedule made in a stressed hurry the night before. a joke, you realize belatedly once you register the sound from between his lips as a laugh. you feel so suddenly exhausted with it hanging in the air. you shrug, “i guess.”

he grins. and you remember being 13 with him by your side. you ignore the shaky feeling in the corner of your eyes. 

–

the train ride is so long, you think an hour in. how many more? you almost ask before remembering how he’s asleep. you stare at him. there are lines across his forehead and around his eyes that weren’t there a couple years ago. last year you found a gray hair right behind his left ear. you look for that sitting here. 

he wakes up just as your finger finds it. 

he squints and yawns at the same time. not even registering your hand shoved in his hair, your face two breaths from him. “morning.” 

he jumps in his seat. your fingers lose the hair. 

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice muddled by the sleep. you know this voice. you used to wake up next to it every morning. there’s a lump in your throat suddenly that chokes down every other emotion you would rather be feeling. 

“i was looking for your gray hair.” 

he perks up. “do i still have it?” 

you want to smile at this. the way he embraces this old age, with open arms and a big bear hug. the way mingyu does with everything. fearless and expectant. like he’s been waiting for it, for you. there was a time when you were the one in his embrace. you want to smile at it, him. but you don’t. or maybe, it’s that you can’t. 

you nod. “i think it’s grown a bit actually.” 

he hums, absently, craning his neck to see something you don’t care to see. “i’m gonna use the bathroom. meet in the dining car?” 

you nod, he leaves, and for the first time since stepping on this train you can fucking breathe. 

—

“doesn’t it feel like the train ride gets longer each time you go back?” he asks. 

you squint at him, picking at a potato before shoving it in your mouth. “not really.”

he shakes his head. “that’s cause you never go.”

and you know he doesn’t mean it with malice, but it’s a stab either way. you scoff. home is many things. it’s where you were born. where your parents live. where you met mingyu. home is many things. but it’s mainly just a tiny town full of memories and people you’d rather forget. 

“i’m sorry,” he offers half-heartedly, noticing your silence a second too late. 

you try your best to shake it off. you don’t want to ruin this day. 

instead you say, “we should get dessert.”

he smiles, big and wide. all teeth showcased right in front of you. somehow, it breaks your heart.

—

“my parents sent me this a while back.” mingyu says, showing you the screen of his phone. 

it’s a picture of when you both were young. 10 or maybe 8 years old. sitting together at the beach, covered in sand and smiling. “i remember that day.” you mutter to him, taking the phone from his hand and staring at the photo. “you made a sand castle, and let me stomp on it.”

“gosh,” mingyu starts with a fake sigh, “you’ve always been an asshole huh?”

you roll your eyes, pushing his phone back towards him. “it was a shit castle anyways.”

—

you and mingyu’s family have been friends since his family moved to town. you must’ve been 4 the first time you met him. you don’t really remember that evening. but you do remember riding your first amusement park ride with him. 

“i know mom,” mingyu says into his phone. you watch the end of his call. he picks at the collar of his shirt. you recognize it as the one his dad gave him for his birthday last year. you wonder if he did that on purpose. he hangs up the phone and gives you a look. 

“hey,” he quips, snapping his fingers in your face, “where are you?”

he knows you so well. “was just thinking.”

“about?” 

you push your chin out a bit, glancing at the scenery running past the window beside you. “i can’t believe it’s been 2 years since i moved from home and joined you in the city.”

“it’s been 6 years for me.”

“i know.” you say, understanding the gravity. the city has this way of pushing you in. like a trap you step into knowingly. “when you moved here for school, i…”

your eyes move back to his face. he tilts his head, waiting for you. “you what?”

you inhale, reaching for the napkin in your lap and folding the corners in. “i don’t know, i just never imagined that i’d also move.

he scrunches his entire face. “be honest, did you miss me so much that you moved just to be closer to me?”

you take the napkin in your lap and throw it in his face. he catches it snickering. “but seriously,” you start, exhaling and watching him fold the napkin back up and place it on the table, “i don’t know if i would’ve moved if you hadn’t done it before me.”

“and now look at you,” his lips curl upwards, “you love the city.”

you match the motion. “i love the city.” more than you ever thought you would.

“how long do you think you’ll stay there?”

he asks it casually, but the question makes your heart stop. it makes this bile that’s been sitting in your gut ever since mingyu told you for the first time that he was thinking about moving back home rise up again and burn the back of your throat. 

you cough. “forever hopefully.”

he gives you this look. this raised brow and side eye look that says you don’t mean that. that mocks you and means to tell you: you have no idea what you’re talking about. eventually, you’ll do what you’ve done our entire lives and follow me back home too. 

“i mean it.” you say steadily. he doesn’t flinch. neither do you. 

“home is different now, you know–”

you scoff. how many times can you and him have the same conversation.”

“–minghao doesn’t even really come into town that much anymore and–”

“stop it, mingyu.”

he bites the inside of his cheek. “why won’t you even try?”

—

you don’t like to think about minghao. the three years you spent loving someone who just up and left. you don’t like to think about him because there’s a part of you that isn’t sure if you ever really got over him.

—

“it’s just time.” mingyu says, voice soft and quiet. “i think it’s just time for me to go back home.”

the train rattles a bit. you stop your shoulders from shaking. “why?”

he just shakes his head and sighs. “it just feels right.”

the words are like a splinter, wedging itself into the pad of your index finger. 

“i’m sorry.” he tells you. 

you go to the bathroom and pretend not to hear it.

—

you stare at your face in the mirror. you never liked the long train rides; there’s a grayness evident in your face. and it makes you think about mingyu’s gray hair that’s grown longer. it makes you think about the first time found it. 

shortly, after you had moved to the city, you and mingyu’s friendship had taken a different form. nights spent laughing turned to something deeper, something blurry and messy. a kiss, a confession, a night spent together. you’ve always loved mingyu. he had been your best friend for so many years. and so it just felt so natural that your friendship would take such a shape. it didn’t feel awkward or hard or forced. it just felt like you loved him and it felt comfortable and honestly, just a tiny bit, it–

it felt like home. 

—

the first thing he says when you retake your seat across from him is: “do you think you’ll ever forgive me for moving back?”

you rest your elbows on the table, hold up your chin with your hands, and stare at him. his eyes look so brown. inhaling, you say, “eventually.” 

he chuckles lightly. “we had some good times together in the city.”

you smile, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. “we really did.”

“and our friendship has nothing to do with distance.”

“i know.” you shrug slightly. “i’m just going to miss doing life with you by my side.”

he frowns, ever so slightly. “you know i’ll always lov-”

the train screeches, masking his voice, his confession with a sound so unpleasant and yet somehow better. you know what he has to say. you don’t want to hear it.

you stare at your finger, where his words pierced your skin. you don’t see the small stick of wood anymore. it’s been sucked in. bitterly, you think, there will always be a piece of you inside me.

—

the train stops in your town eventually. you both grab his bags and head out onto the platform. 

you sit on a bench just outside waiting for his parents to pick you guys up. it’s colder up here than it is in the city. it nips and bites at the bits of your skin that’s exposed. mingyu pulls out a scarf from one of his bags and wraps it around your shoulders. 

you recognize the color of it and the pattern. you gave this scarf to him 8 years ago. you can’t believe he still has it. you can’t believe he lugged it with him to the city. you can’t believe he lugged it back. 

you look at him, really look at him, and realize how terrified you are. you’ve spent so much of your life with mingyu. you don’t want to remember what life looks like without him. 

“you’re my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him, placing a hand over his. 

the wind picks up, picking and poking at your eyes. you feel a tear fall down your cheek. 

you know he’s sad to say goodbye to you and to the city, but you also know that more than that, he’s happy. excited to be back home and closer to his friends and family. you can see it in his eyes. you can see it in his gray hair sticking up with the wind. 

“i’m just not ready to come back yet otherwise i would.”

he looks at you, like he really pities you. you hate it. “you did come back with me.”

you shake your head. “otherwise, i would stay.” 

he pulls you into a hug. you relish in the warmth. you’ve been in this position many times before. but never like this. you aren’t in college anymore. you know you’ll never be this close to him again. and maybe that’s what makes this all so painful. maybe that’s why when you pull away from the hug you catch a glint of something sharp in his hand. you look down at your torso and see your entire body carved open, with his hands digging inside, searching for the words you stole from him. maybe it wasn’t a splinter. maybe it wasn’t an accident. but why won’t he let you have that at least? why does he have to leave and take every trace of him with him?

a car pulls up. mingyu’s father. you recognize the paint job on it. you both stand. he faces you facing him.

“are you happy?” you ask him. 

he smiles, wrinkles appearing all over his face. “i can’t wait. 

you help him and his father pack everything into the car. you say hi to his mother. she asks you to stay for dinner; you tell her how you have to get back to the city. 

you say your final goodbye to mingyu. and watch his dad’s car pull away. you don’t know when you’ll see him next. and it’s only once the car is entirely out of view, do you realize you’re still wearing the scarf you gifted him. you take one last inhale of your hometown and board the train back

[enchantedgrunge]

💖 Snapshot (Idol!Hyunlix x Reader) 💖

Chapter One - The Beginning - MDNI

Paring: Idol!Lee Felix x Reader x Idol!Hyunjin (Some Hyunlix action)

Word Count: 1.6k (I hope this isn’t too long!) 🫣

Warnings: I don’t think there are many maybe cursing? And some feelings of being too much for people?? Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hello! This is my first ever written out fan fiction and I hope that it does well and is received well. Also, I am really bad a synopsis or intros so I will not be including one of those for this! If I do end up writing one, I will include it at that point and time! Enjoy! :) Oh, I want to note that Y/N speaks Korean fluently so everything she says to the kids is in Korean! If something is said in English, I will show that by having it bolded and italicized. Also, I refer to the group of them as “the kids” quite often! Let me know in a comment or an ask if you want to be a part of the taglist! Current no smut is present in this but there will be in the future MDNI ONLY. If I cannot find your age on your account, I will most likely block you! Thanks for understanding!

*Y/N POV*

You had been working as a photographer in Seoul, SK for about 2 years. You mostly did freelance photography and some bigger gigs, enough to make a name for yourself. You started to work with a few fashion brands in the past few months but nothing ever stuck or felt right. You were job hunting when you noticed JYPE was looking for a new traveling photographer / videographer for one of their KPOP groups. The name was not disclosed due to privacy reasons and wanting only serious applicants.

“Oi what the hell?” You said as you filled out the application sending over your resume as well as your portfolio. Little did you know, you were already under consideration for the position due to Bang Chan having found your work on Instagram and brought your photos to JYP saying he liked the style and thinks it would fit well for them and their next comeback.

A few days later you received an email from JYPE offering you the position you applied for and inviting you to an in-person interview. You stare at the screen in shock for a few moments unsure if this is really happening. You laugh to yourself and quickly type out a reply and scheduling your interview for the next day at 10am.

The next day comes and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You got dressed in a white sweater with a plaid pair of pants that fit your curves. You added a bag and a pair of sneakers since you do have to walk to the JYPE building.

(Y/N is a bit curvier than this in my head but feel free to picture them differently)

You arrive at the building and are greeted by a receptionist. “Hello, can I help you?” she asked with a soft smile. Her soft features were a welcoming sight. You gave a warm smile back as well, “Hi, yes my name is y/n and I am here for an interview.” The receptionist typed something into her computer and nodded. “Yes ma’am, I will let them know you are here, they will be out momentarily.” You needed and sat down in the lobby looking at your phone occasionally trying to control your breathing and doing a few calming techniques you have learned. A man comes down the hall he has a stern expression but just seems more serious rather than mean. “Hello, Mrs. Y/L/N?” You stand up and smile at the stranger, “Yes hello” you bow politely and then shake the man’s hand. “My name is Yeo-sun, but you can call me Yeo.” He leads you down a long hallway to an interview room.

“So, I am going to get right to the point Y/N, we want you to be a photographer and videographer for the KPOP group Stray Kids, have you heard of them?” Your mouth falls open momentarily before you nod. “Yes, I have they’re one of my favorites.” He nods and smiles, “Good that means you will be up to date on a lot of their information, but we still have some prepared. Basically, just a list of likes and dislikes when it comes to photos as well as video aspects.” You nod and continue to discuss the position, and everything involved, including the fact that you would be living in the same space as the kids. However, you would have your own dorm and bathroom, but you would just share common spaces like a living room and kitchen. This was to make it easier for you to film behind the scenes content as well as help with live streams and any other aspects the guys needed help in. This was also a bit of a PA job which you noticed. You could not turn down this opportunity and it honestly seemed like a fun time; you just hoped the kids were as nice in person as they seemed online.

“Are you ready to start today?” Yeo asked and you nodded. “I left my camera at home but if you have equipment for me to use, I’d be more than happy to start today.” You said as you fiddled with the strap of your bag and Yeo smiled at you kindly. “We have plenty of equipment but once you move here you will be welcome to use your own equipment.” Yeo said before standing from the conference table “follow me.”

Yeo led you out from the room and went down to the dance studio explaining to you this is where the guys should be at this time. You braced yourself giving yourself a small pep talk before you both walk into the studio. The lights are dimmed some, but Yeo turns them up making the 8 men in front of you stop what they are doing.

“Oi Yeo-Hyun why the sudden assault” the aussie leader you know as Bang Chan laughed. “Ah, good to see you too Chan, this is Y/N the new photographer and videographer.” Chan walked up to greet you. “Oh! Glad to see everyone took my advice! Hi Y/N, big fan of your work, I recommended you to the staffing agents” Chan said with a bright smile that was contagious, you found yourself smiling brightly as well. “Oh, you’ve seen my work? That is so kind of you. I am also a fan of your work.” You said with a smile causing the others to laugh and Chan’s ears to go a bit red.

“Hi I’m Han!” The man bounded over and shook your hand smiling brightly. You loved his smile; it was something you admired about him from afar. Each of the guys came up to greet you, you expected a lot of hugs and laughs which you got. However, the one person you expected to be the touchiest barely shook your hand. Lee Felix. “Hello, I’m Felix, you can call me Felix or Yongbok like some of the other members do.” He said simply and did a little bow as he shook your hand. “Hi, I’m Y/N as stated” you giggled softly at his formality, but he shied away and stood back by his members. “I hope you all come to trust me, since I will be with you and living in the same area as you.” You laughed and so did the others as they all sat down to take a breather from dancing. You looked over and grabbed some bottles from the fridge before handing them out to the guys. “Ah! Y/N you didn’t have to do that!” Chan laughed but took the bottle chugging it as they all did. You smiled brightly and just laughed fidgeting with the camera Yeo had given you before he left.

You sat down on the couch as the kids began to practice again. They were practicing for the new comeback, one you had only heard about via twitter. You were smiling and bobbing along to the music that you had not heard before. You hummed quietly and began to move around the practice space taking some behind the scenes photos that the boys could post on bubble or that could be posted as teasers for a practice room video.

*Felix POV*

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, he was trying but it was hard. He watched as you moved around the studio taking photos and laughing when the other members interacted with you. It was like you had been with them since the beginning laughing and joking around with one another. You were beautiful. God, he was worried about showing affection to you like the other members. He normally didn’t think much about his preference to skinship, but that was before yesterday. He had overheard some other staff speaking about his over affection and how it made them uncomfortable. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do to someone. He knows what it’s liked to be uncomfortable when someone is touching or hugging on you, and it broke his heart that he made someone feel that way. So, he decided would just stay back and watch and be nice but not overly friendly.

*Y/N POV*

You felt accepted and safe with the kids despite being there for maybe 3-4 hours. The kids really made you laugh and feel like you were friends for years, however, something you didn’t expect was the distance Felix was keeping from you. You had always thought he was the most affectionate person, having talked about skinship and being one to show it more than others. He was always seen cuddling, hugging and touching the members and honestly it hurt a bit that he wasn’t that way with you. Did he not like you? Did you make a bad first impression? You tried to be respectful and kind, hopefully it was just new person jitters. Your thoughts began to spiral as you were thinking of all the mistakes you could have made.

“Hey Y/N are you a stay?” You hear Jeongin’s laugh, and it broke you out of your downward spiral of thoughts. You smiled up at him, since you were now sitting on the floor after getting some cool shots of the kids dancing. “Oh yeah I am, I’ve been following you guys since your debut.” You laugh feeling your face heat up a bit as they all look at you a bit shocked. “I uhm, really enjoy all of the work you guys put into keeping stays happy.” Your ears began to heat as Jeongin’s laugh broke your thoughts again. His smile so big his eyes were almost closed. “Oh, that's good!” he said as he sat down on the couch chuckling to himself.

Minho sat up from his position laying on the floor “Who is your bias then?” he asked with a smirk as your cheeks flared again so much you felt the flush going up your neck. “Ah I don’t think I should really talk about that.” You said getting nervous as you played with the setting on the camera again trying to stop blushing. “Ah come on Y/N pleaseeeeeeee tell us?” Han whined throwing you a bit of puppy eyes. You laughed and shook your head looking around and realizing this was going to be a fun job.

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[star-quill]

the age-gap stories with him r so good…maybe more plz? :)

me when i make this my entire brand fr fr

peter being so into you when he knows he probably shouldn't is just so!!!!! and you think he's hot as fuck, so you desperately try and flirt your way into his bed whenever you see him. but he shoots you down every time, even though he wants you just as badly.

the first time you kiss him, it wasn't even a proper kiss. you're in college, and you're at a house party, a few blocks away from peter's house. he goes over to your house, returning a pyrex dish he got from you when you brought him some casserole from your parents. but they weren't in and neither were you. he asked around, trying to make sure you were ok. then one of your friends told him where you were and he drove straight there, fighting his way through the crowd of people to find you slumped on a sofa in the back garden. he took you home and put you to bed, but you grabbed his shirt and kissed him, whining when he pulled away.

"i can't do this.. we can't do this.."

he made sure you were asleep before he walked next door back to his place. he couldn't sleep that night, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. he grabbed his dick through his sweatpants and groaned, but he couldn't do it. he couldn't do it while thinking of you. it wasn't right.

but then you're laying on your bed the next thursday, your parents hosting a barbecue out in your backyard. you can see him from your window, standing drinking a beer by the pool, talking to some of the other neighbours. you were sat on your window-seat, staring out at him and you waved when he looked up at you. he hasn't seen you since that kiss and he figures now is a good time to talk about it. although he probably shouldn't have, because when he goes inside and comes up to your room, he sees you walking around your room, wearing a skirt that barely covers your ass and a ringer-style crop top.

"hi.."

"yeah.. uhm.. hi.. we need to talk.."

"mmhm?" you hop up on your bed, sitting back on your heels as he comes to stand at the edge of it, facing you. he thinks you look so cute.

"look.. i'm flattered that you're interested in me.. but, we can't do this.. ok?"

"why not?" you pouted then, watching as his jaw clenched. you knew his words were a lie but you thought, the more you act all cute and sweet to him, the easier that he'll break.

"you're way, way too young for me.."

"not that young.. i'm old enough to drink.."

"i just.. i can't.."

"we don't have to tell anyone.."

he paused, his fist clenching by his side. he hadn't even realised he'd stepped closer to your bed, until he felt his knees hit the mattress. then your hands were on his chest as you leant up to him.

"i know you want to fuck me.. my window's open right now, but.. i promise you i'll be quiet.."

"you promise?"

"mmhm.. i promise.."

in the end, you didn't need to promise you'd be quiet. he had you face down against the mattress, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow. his hand gripped at your skirt as he bunched it around your waist, pulling you back and forth against him, his eyes staring down, lost in the way your pussy was hugging his dick. if he wasn't hooked on you before, he definitely was now.

[globalrebrand]

Answering to Vil - Epilogue

The results of that fateful night catch up to you.

Warnings: fem afab!reader, mentions of pregnancy and sexual harrasment.

A/N: For that one person who asked about the prologue at the end of that fic.

Part 1

As if you were a child on a flight, Vil helped himself before helping you. He put on his sunglasses before assisting you with your frames, delicately removing them from their case, gently combing your hair out of your face with his fingers, and sliding the elegant shades over your eyes. The matching designer glasses featured lenses as dark as possible and were rather wide while still being on brand for the style Vil dictated for you as a couple. 

You needed to disguise yourselves slightly, as even a routine trip to your OB-GYN would not be without vulturous paparazzi lingering by the front door, especially after your fourth appointment since Vil had recently announced your pregnancy to the public on his magicam.

You were starting to show, and it was getting harder and harder to deny that a baby would emerge from you in less than half a year.

Your chauffeur pulled up right next to the front doors of the private clinic. Vil got out first, entirely unphased by the instant chorus of flashing camera shutters at his appearance.

He assisted you out of the car next with an arm around your waist as he helped you out of the vehicle. Tucking you into his jacket, Vil made quick strides to the door, the leather of his coat concealing you from the paparazzi to the best of its ability.

Once you entered the lobby of the building, Vil released you from his embrace, taking your hand instead and leading you to the elevator.

It was strange. Vil was not dramatically more doting than he had been before your pregnancy, but what was new was the giddiness that he displayed. 

Even now, he was humming a sweet little tune as the two of you waited in the travertine-clad elevator bank hand in hand. 

"You seem excited." You mentioned it casually as the elevator doors opened and you stepped into the vestibule. 

"Did you forget? Today is the day we learn the sex. Not that it matters, of course. Any child we have is destined to inherit our beauty."

"We can only hope." You sigh, laying back against the elevator wall.

"Are you tired, love? Your smoothie this morning wasn't energizing enough? 

"I'm fine, Vil."

"I'll add more greens next time."

"It's ok, darling. You're doing everything you need to be. There's no need to exert yourself further." It was true. It was as if the second the pregnancy test came back positive, Vil evolved into a different version of himself and completely redoubled his commitment to your care.

He was slower to anger, quicker to offer you a warm embrace, and he even turned down jobs to spend more time with you. 

Just next month, he'd insisted the two of you take a trip to Scalding Sands for the rest of your second trimester to a luxury beachside resort for spa treatments, and you couldn't find a good reason to disagree. 

More than once, the traitorous thought, "maybe I should keep getting pregnant," passed through your mind. You didn't particularly want the children themselves, but you would do anything to maintain this treatment from your husband. 

You wrapped your arms around Vil and tucked your head under his chin.

"I like this cologne on you." You spoke quietly into his shirt. 

"Good. I chose it when you mentioned you could no longer tolerate the smell of the other one."

"I must adapt myself to the wishes of your newly keen sense of smell." Vil offered with a delicate tap on your nose. 

That brought a smile to your face, and you hugged him tighter. Vil responded by returning your embrace and pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. 

For a moment, things felt like they used to. 

But as the elevator chimes and you arrive at the obstetrician's office, you're broken out of your reverie. 

It's full of other pregnant people and their spouses. You don't feel you resemble them or share their sense of joy regarding their future children. 

You always feel that they can sense your displeasure at your circumstance despite the polite smiles you flash at the already-seated guests.

Vil ushers you into a seat and then walks to the front desk to check you in for your 11:30 am appointment with your doctor.

There was a bit of a line, so you got comfortable in your seat.

Around the ritzy waiting room are amenities such as mint and cucumber water and a large flat screen with individual headphones for guests to listen to without disturbing each other. 

The TV is playing the entertainment news channel, and you scrunch your nose in distaste. 

The lead anchor is a narcissist who always tries to start smear campaigns.

You were pleased to ignore it until the paparazzi photo of you and Vil's costar popped on the screen with a headline reading "Secretly a Predator?"

Momentarily startled, you tried to shy away from the subtle glances in your direction from the other people in the waiting room, trying to observe your reaction to you on the screen. 

Even though you tried to resist, you ultimately couldn't. Grabbing a pair of headphones, you listen in to the news story.

"The costar of Vil Schoenheit on the recent dramatic box office hit "Patron Of Heaven" was seen out at a popular nightclub in the capital, forcing himself on Schoneheit's wife and fellow model [Name] Schoenheit. 

While initially written off as a crass one-time behavior, our team of journalists dug and found that this charged photo underscores a history of sexually aggressive behavior. During our investigations, eight other women have come forward claiming sexual harass-" The headphones were gently removed from your ears and replaced by the dulcet tones of your husband's voice. 

"Don't listen to that filth, darling." Vil chided, taking a seat next to you.

There was no need to ask. It was clear this was Vil's doing. You prayed that what the report said was true, so you didn't need to feel guilty for Vil slaughtering yet another young actor's career over his jealousy. Of course, the man got handsy with you and far too forward, but a burn notice like this from Vil was final. 

There wouldn't be a single soul in the industry who would be able to resuscitate his career. Perhaps someone like Niege LaBlanche, but people in this industry were finally starting to take sexual harassment claims seriously, and there would likely be a criminal investigation.

"Schonheit." A nurse called as she waved you both into the corridor with all the examination rooms. 

 "I wonder who that could be?" Vil teased before rising from his seat to help you up. 

"Let's go, darling." Vil offered you a hand. Even though you could manage just fine on your own, you took it. 

"Don't worry your pretty little head, my love. That monster had it coming." Vil whispered in your ear. 

For your own sanity, you decided to believe him regardless of the truth.  

[callmewrinkles3]

Met Gala

Remember we said that there was a lil something coming for the Met Gala? Enjoy!

—

May 2023

“Remind me why I decided we should go to this?” Em asked as she tried zipping up the dress that had fit her perfectly the week before. But now her boobs didn’t want to fit.

“Because it’s our first public thing as a married couple before Miami? What’s going on?”

“My dress doesn’t fit anymore, Dan.” She turned and he looked at her, taking in the gap at the top of the underarm zip. “It doesn’t fit and it’s going to scratch and this is going to be a nightmare.”

“Hey. Hey, stop, we’re going to make this work.” He put his hand over the offending fabric and helped adjust it. “We both know why your boobs don’t fit. It’s natural. You’re growing our kid, that’s all.”

“I just…ugh. I’m nervous.” She took a deep breath and looked up at him, taking his free hand. “There’s so many people and we haven’t done an event like this since maybe Cannes? And that was quieter. It’s people and noise and I can’t even have a glass of wine to take the edge off. I’m really nervous.”

Finding out they were invited to the Met Gala was a big deal. Being invited by name was unexpected. The glossy invite for Daniel Ricciardo and Emma Smyth was stuck to the fridge in Perth where she’d stared at it for days before realising yes, she’d been invited by name. It was terrifying and huge and trying to find an outfit was a nightmare. She’d finally found the Lagerfeld inspired net dress that didn’t scratch her skin too much and was in love. But now eight weeks into her pregnancy and three days since they’d found out about it, the dress was too small in some places.

“I’ve got it, here.” She turned as Dan held out fabric from the tee he’d worn to the hotel that morning, the sleeve hanging down where he’d ripped. Four pins later and it covered the open zip. Unless she lifted her arm up it couldn’t be seen, and there was a net cape thing that helped too. Once it was in place she leaned over to kiss her husband before fixing her lipstick.

“Ready to go?” Dan asked and she nodded while taking his hand.

The car to the Metropolitan Museum of Art was slow through Manhattan traffic, but Em took deep breaths while putting her hand on her stomach. Dan’s was around her shoulders as he pushed kisses to her head.

“I brought these. Slip them on now before we get in. Your hair will hide them.” Dan held out his spare hand to show her earplug case. Inside was a brand new pair of black ones and she grinned up at him.

“Thank you.”

“They’re the background noise reducing ones so they should be good for tonight. We need to stay until they open the exhibit, but I think you’ll like it.”

Nerves and nausea meant she couldn’t reply but just stayed pressed against him until the car pulled up. With a nod from Dan she took a deep breath and stepped out into the throng of photographers and people screaming her husband’s name.

[thefaiao]

   Went to a funeral today. It was my mom’s aunt. I didn’t really know her before she died, which was yesterday. Actually, I did meet her once before. At another funeral, my grandmother’s, four months ago.   My grandma passed away at 96, after struggling a lot with health condition and the overall fragility of old age. You trip the wrong way, and you are out of commission for a year, which might as well be half if not all of your remaining time in this world. It’s depressing, and she didn’t try to hide that at times she was tired of living, but held on out of a type of duty. It’s not easy to understand what goes on in the mind of someone that old. We struggle to understand how brains of people our age can be wired differently, as we are our only true control group. And even then, wen can trick ourselves, foggy memories, regrets, and so on, will warp our vision.    At the end of the day I still feel depressed could better summarize it. She looked peaceful in death, like she was younger. She was buried in a vertical cemetery, many rows and columns in each floor, extending up thirteen or so floors. The tombs had their names written on them in ready-made metal letters, which had a gold tint to them.    I was sad to see her go, as much as I expected it, but I truly get overwhelmed when I go into a cemetery. All the death we hide from our daily lives is concentrated here, the definitive end of so many lives. People who die at twenty five, or thirty years of age. It’s easy to think about how these people could easily have been my friends, or me, but they didn’t get the chance. They died to something unpredictable, or maybe everyone could see it coming but no-one could do anything about it. Or maybe they could, but just didn’t have the energy to, or the forethought. The end is the same anyway. They died, so now they aren’t present anymore, all they can do is be dead.    Today I went with a different mood, since I didn’t know my great-aunt properly. I noticed how the room was really small, and despite there being a wooden board covering the door, a camera hung onto that same board. I noticed that even though there was food and drink, the water jug was made of plastic, and the jar with cheap store brand cookies, had a crack on it, and was hard to open. Everyone was sad, as her death was sudden. A heart attack as she woke up, even though she was previously healthy.    I noticed that whenever this is the case, of sudden death, the person is usually a very hard-line principled person, for better or worse. Usually they sustain the family in some way, or give them guidance with a firm hand. Maybe at random they relax, and all the emotion they hold back come at once, and take them with them. Most of the time, it’s someone who is deeply loved and appreciate for that, especially if they are old. Many people showed up to her funeral to say goodbye.    Her husband was crying, as they had been together almost seventy years. And they loved each other. It is easy to imagine myself in his place, but hard to imagine how much sorrow he must feel. While I was there I noticed more things. I noticed that the casket was veneered particle-board, with cut-and-paste patterns on the rims. When there was a bend in the geometry of the casket, the pattern was broken. The metal details were golden plastic, and all the parts of the casket were mass-produced. The flowers were real, as were the people who brought them. I also noticed we had to pay for parking in the place of ceremony, and it was just as expensive as places in the city. I noticed they asked the same price restaurants ask to buy drinks, or a coffee, if we wanted those.    While everyone were coming to terms with what had happened, I feel I could only stare. I didn’t want to touch her because I don’t think I earned that, as I was only accompanying my mom. Her coffin looked plastic, and in turn she looked like a toy. Whenever we die, we become an object. And when we enter a casket, we become an altar. We are pressured to cut corners, because we have no money, because we have no time, and we are so small, and we only get smaller. So in death, we look like toys that couldn’t keep going, we exchanged all the parts of the ceremony that we could, so it could even happen. A door opened in the back of the room, and the employees quickly cut everything short, and took her to the car.    When we got to her cemetery, I was again overcome with the emotion of all the lives of strangers that were registered there. Just a date, sometimes a face, and a phrase form loved ones. Sometimes flowers, but there were also flowers that were dry, they looked so small. In this horizontal cemetery, the rows and columns were also present, but with no pre-made lettering. The names were written on cement by hand, usually by a worker, before a cover was later built into the graves. So many names, from 2018-2022, had no covers. Sometimes a message accompanied the names, written by a relative. Some people could afford more unique graves, which were usually for the whole family.    I can’t help but think if this is all we can be now. We can live beautiful lives, and help so many people, only to die and be buried in mass-produced coffins, have respects paid to us in an affordable place, because money dictates our lives. That the death of someone we love is bundled with a mountain of expenses. It’s easy to say we should be happy we lived at all, and think about all the moments we treasured between our struggles. But maybe we only get used to this because we can’t imagine a better option.    Funerals are not only sad. In the middle of sobs I could see smiles, even from my great-aunt’s husband. They are complex, as are the places we are buried. Mass-production and repetition isn’t bad on its own. But when it’s there to cut corners, I can’t help but feel we are being robbed of something higher, and rare, which we don’t always experience.    I get home and my dog is having a seizure, and my brother is drunk. Shortly after my dog has two other seizures. Life and death are both unrelenting.

[sansxfuckyou]

Heartbeat

Summary: Sometimes Kenny needs to force himself to slow down and just look at everything that's brought him to this brand new state of waking up beside Kyle every morning

Warnings: Heavily described character death (its the one that keeps him dead for a season), hospitals, descriptions of limbo, crying, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: I got a bit silly with the dialogue placement so there's close to none instead of the usual amount, don't worry though we have a happy ending cause I'm weak. hope ya'll enjoy!

Kenny doesn't ever consider himself a 'lucky guy.' Not even when he's winning big in blackjack, or not dying despite everything. He just doesn't think about his life, each and every terrible death he's endured only for no one but him (and sometimes Cartman) too remember, and go 'thats good luck.'

Who can blame him either?

The world keeps throwing these absolutely terrible situations at him where he had no choice but to die, for everyone too watch, and for no one too remember it the next day. Sure, he'd get lucky sometimes and have a day without death even though he's almost being drowned in an intricate cave system. And sometimes he'd wake up and have Cartman call and ask if he's feeling alright, but that rarely happens. He's just coasted through the motions since grade three, every single day bringing a death worse than the last until he hit his absolute lowest point.

He isn't even sure of what it actually was, but he'd say it was like cancer, or how people describe cancer when they know nothing about it. He was hospitalized. He couldn't walk, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't even eat or drink. He was stuck in an uncomfortable bed for so long, hooked up too a machine that beeped with his heart and carefully monitored him. He knew he was truly fucked when that happened, that this would be it, for real.

His muscles were atrophying, slowly deteriorating in a way that only spelled out death. And he fully expected to slug through the remainder of his pitiful days alone in a room sterilized to the point it made his eyes water. Walls painted a dull gray that made him feel as dead as he was going to be once more. But Kyle was there the entire time, at his side, translating for the doctors and holding his hand even though he was sure it would infect the redhead. Kyle was sitting there throughout every moment of his remaining days, holding his hand, filling the silence, and despite the doctors orders, opening the curtains for some light.

Kenny remembers his last day vividly, in full color but some details tearing at the edge. He remembers his heartbeat starting too fade out. He remembers how hot Kyle's tears were when he wiped them aside. He remembers the smile he forced to console Kyle because death isn't that scary. But for Kyle it was scary. They were still kids when that happened, no older than thirteen, it made sense Kyle was scared. Maybe if he remembered Kenny's deaths he wouldn't be as worried, he'd know the blonde would come back.

Although, what Kenny remembers the most are the few words Kyle said too him.

"Please don't die, I need you,"

And he remembers how much reverence was on them, he remembers the depth. He knew exactly what they meant but he couldn't croak out a response. He lost his voice permanently two days beforehand, vocal chords rotted away leaving him speechless. All he could do was try his very hardest to squeeze Kyle's hand and hope that sufficed to say 'I need you too.' He remembers the sheer terror on Kyle's form when he finally faded out, being allowed to stay in the same plane for just a bit longer.

He remembers the absolutely gut-wrenching sobs that tore through Kyle as he clutched Kenny's frail and deteriorated corpse close. He knows it was still warm as Kyle sobbed into his shoulder, and tangled his hand into faded hair. He remembers watching the doctors have too tear away his body from Kyle before the redhead would let go only in a physical sense. He remembers what came after as well, he was allowed to stay till sundown and watch over his friends as they cried and denied.

He still gets a kick out of the STEM cell restaurant, and he wonders if Cartman knew that'd get a laugh out of him even in death. He knows that those cells probably couldn't have saved him, it was already too late by the time the cells had arrived. He remembers laughing to the point it should've hurt as he watched Kyle and Cartman fight about the misuse of the STEM cells.

And then he was in the darkness for who knows how long. His curse refused to kick in and he remembered exactly how much he hated his time in the void. He hated it more than his time in hell, because at least in hell he had someone too talk to. Albeit that someone turned him into a platypus, but it was someone. He remembers sitting there in the terrible pitch black space. The air was humid but all too dry at the same time. He'd be stuck in a horrible temperature of almost cold or switch too almost hot. The silence absolute aside from his own cracking and quiet voice. And no matter how far he tried to run or swim or fly through the abyss, he was always back where he started because it was always the same.

He remembers falling asleep in darkness and waking up in a room that smelt like alcohol and mildew. He remembers the ecstasy and euphoria that shot through him when he could feel his own heartbeat. Of course, he also had too stay in control and not look too giddy as he rushed out the door only halting to catch Karen in a hug so tight she complained it hurt a bit. He remembers how loud the snow under his boots sounded in his ears.

He remembers seeing Kyle and dragging him into a hug, hoisting him up just a little bit. He wanted so badly to kiss him right then and there to say the three magic words until his throat was raw. But he didn't, instead Kyle asked where he went for so long and Kenny just pointed south easy and said 'over there.' He remembers the sense of worry on Kyle's voice and how he held himself after that, be remembers it all so clearly up until he took Kyle's hand and squeezed tight before asking one simple question.

"Do you remember?"

And despite his hesitance, Kyle nodded, he squeezed tighter in response. Then he yanked Kenny all too close and the memory of the desperation in his motions left Kenny woozy. He remembers how softly the redhead shook and cried because he wasn't insane, Kenny did die. And Kenny remembers the way that he didn't know what he was supposed to say because Kyle remembered.

"I still need you man,"

And now, six years later, Kenny finds himself still facing the same hardships, but with a very different backdrop. His head is resting on Kyle's chest as he stares up at the ceiling and listens too his lovers heartbeat. It's the most calming white noise Kenny has access too, the most therapeutic chain of sounds he knows of. It pairs nicely with the rise and fall of Kyle's chest.

He props himself upright with a gentle sigh, unlatching fingers from where they rest, firmly grasping his midsection and holding him close. Kyle still needs him, and Kenny still needs Kyle. He traces over Kyle's form with his eyes, from where the blanket has been kicked off down to every contour of his face. He looks nice, he looks peaceful. He blinks himself awake with a yawn and Kenny smiles a little bit before Kyle focuses his eyes on the blonde.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Kyle asked, voice dredged in sleepiness and dripping with that perfect flavor of just woke up disorientation.

Kenny gives a hum as he runs a hand through Kyle's hair, "Just how lucky I am to have you."

[white--moon]

Ichigo opens his mouth and then shuts it. He’s not quite sure how to say he just didn’t trust the guy. That he hasn’t trusted a lot of the people that are supposed to be either protecting him or in authority, because his personal experience is that it doesn’t end well. Not for him. He shrugs. “Yeah, I figured you’d tell on me or something. Seems like your specific brand of asshole. I doubt I’d be as good at squirming through the legal system as you.” Except then he remembers that they’re getting along and shoots him a look. “Or… something like that.”

He straightens, flipping through a series of different emotions and settling on indignant. “You’re not allowed to like that.” Ichigo was trying to kill him. It should’ve been at least unpleasant. Fucking Shiro. Never mind he was enjoying it too. He narrows his eyes. “Is this because you’re an attention whore?” He’s truly not fishing for compliments, and Shiro seems determined to handout his version of them anyway. Mostly, it’s just uncomfortable for him. “Most people call that tactless and dense.” Which he’s not stupid, but he’s pretty undiplomatic. His face blanks a bit though. “Are they going to start telling me about all the other guys you’ve been with?” That could be worthwhile, and then he’d also know who to look out for.

Ichigo slides Shiro a look and drops his chin into his hand. “I don’t know why you didn’t just order it all at the start. You’d already have it.” It’s not as if it’s a mystery that Shiro can put away three courses. He snorts though. “We can get desert somewhere else as long as we don’t have to sit here anymore.”

He arches a brow. "My brand of asshole is actually not very specific at all, it's varied and creative and subject to change at my whim, just like the legal system I squirm through." Which is true, he supposes, but mostly he's joking since the other option is to take Ichigo seriously and it was kind of a rude thing to say.

"No? Well you shouldn't'a made it so enjoyable then. It was like a little game." Not that Ichigo wasn't good enough to have managed it, he wasn't quite lucky enough to catch Shiro off his game enough to do so. He scoffs. "Don't call me that. And no. I like attention, but not typically the murder-y kind." He's kind of amused by that, but shrugs. "Yeah, I guess they probably would but I don't think you're either of those things. Definitely not dense, anyway, maybe tactless on occasion but who isn't?" He sure as hell can be, though that's not at all why he appreciates how straightforward Ichigo can be. His brows raise a little, but he's really not worried about Ichigo digging into his past flings. He's not likely to find much. "Probably. The ones they know about, anyway. That's a topic you could just ask me about though." He supposes it's only fair Ichigo might want to know, given how Shiro dropped the whole STD topic on him. Good news or not, he kind of brought this upon himself.

He snorts a laugh. It's a good point. "I dunno. What if we didn't like the food?" Not a very good defense. He thumbs through his wallet quick and hands over enough cash to handle the bill and tip, before looking over at Ichigo. "Feelin' antsy? It's the corner, isn't it? See, I'm not actually that weird." But he starts sliding from the booth so they can get moving.

[aseriesofthrills]

H

My heart won’t stop beating. It’s good that it’s beating, preferable actually, but not this fast, and not this loud. I’m at my parents’ apartment sleeping on a thin pull out couch in their guest room. They just retired from Florida to North Carolina, breaking the mold of retirees flocking further south. They haven’t found a house yet in Asheville so we’re in cramped quarters, an apartment far more elegant yet much smaller than my shitty but spacious house in Los Angeles. Less than 24 hours since my feet touched east coast soil, I’m already feeling a little claustrophobic in the space. And it is just that - a space, a place, not a home. It’s not where we brought my younger brother home to from the hospital, the host of my first sleepover, the bathroom where I got my first period, the home held together by the walls I stared at wondering if everyone would immediately sense a difference in me after the first time I had sex, the bedroom where I came out to my parents. When my plane landed in North Carolina, my mom desperately wanted to “get the first hug” - a game our family plays - and left my dad stranded in the car in order to track me down near baggage claim, simply unable to wait the extra 30 seconds for me to make it outside. I used their guest bathroom only to find the toilet paper folded over, like I was at the Waldorf Astoria. Sometimes my mom even puts chocolates on my pillow when I visit. My dad texted me the day before my flight to ask for grocery store requests, as if the right brand of cold brew is the key to my happiness and they’d do anything in their power to unlock it. So, maybe, who needs a home when you have a lot of love? And anyway, this all has nothing to do with why my heart’s beating like a drum. It would be in any space or place. 

My heart won’t stop beating fast and loud. I’m lying on my stomach, and I can hear the beats reverberating throughout the metal springs, the frail skeletal system holding this flimsy pull out couch together. The beats feel shockingly loud, as if I’m stranded at some heavy rock concert that I didn’t buy tickets to. I never understood why some people willingly go to concerts but bring earplugs, the weird fibrous orange material poking out of their ear canals. Supposedly their “pliable design slowly expands, conforming to your ear canal to help block out hazardous noise.” I would consider this noise Hazardous, but it isn’t just an aural problem. The bed is vibrating with my aliveness, abuzz with my analyzing. Could my heartbeats be shaking the whole apartment complex? The beating and throbbing makes it feel like I’m sleeping inside of my own giant ribcage, taunting me from the inside out. I should try turning over onto my back, but somehow that feels worse in other ways. Like I’m opening myself up to the world, vulnerable, singing, “Sure! Come and devour me!” Even if it meant the end of the incessant sounds of my blood pumping, I don’t think I could sleep like that. I want to feel cocooned and enveloped, folded into myself, a child and its mom all at once, someone capable of self-soothing. A feeling only possible by being on my stomach, relentless beating be damned. 

I have a crush. Aside from being alive, it’s undoubtedly the source of the fervent beating that now must be registering as at least a 4 on the Richter scale. Noticeable Shaking of Objects and Rattling Noises. Felt by Most People in the Affected Area. I take solace in the fact that Moderate to Significant Damage is Very Unlikely. The crush is complicated. She told me she likes me, but we have to wait. I’m not good at waiting. Terrible, actually. Two or three weeks feel like months. I truthfully have no concept of how far off it feels to my warped brain, and the nebulousness of that might be even worse than being able to ascribe a timeline to it. It’s like I’m stranded in a foreign country where I’ve lost my passport, and I’m trying trying trying to get home but there’s no guarantee when I will. Someday, yes, it will be worked out. Things will fall into or out of place. But when? When when when? I wonder if she’s as preoccupied with me as I am with her. For my sake, I hope yes. For her sake, I hope no.

At a certain point the beat beat beating seems to let up, or maybe it’s just turned into a frequency I can thankfully no longer hear. But in some diabolical plot by the world to hold me hostage in an awake state, I’m now hyper aware of a clock ticking. Not metaphorically, though that would be apt, but the literal ticking of a time-keeping device in my vicinity. Tick. Tick. Tick. I hate to be this dramatic about something that was likely placed in the room by my mom in a casual attempt to decorate, but frankly, it’s ruining my life. And why would she pay such careful attention to decorating anyway? This is a temporary apartment, a space, a place, not a home, and it doesn’t need little clocks. It needs my newborn brother and my first period bathroom and my sleepover room and the walls that watched me grow. 

Thoughts about my crush keep flashing through my brain, almost like jump scares. You expect it but it startles you all the same, grossly over-buttered popcorn flying everywhere. Like Fleabag suddenly remembering things at inconvenient times about her best friend, Fleabag plagued by guilt over her death. Except I didn’t kill anyone. I just like someone. I think back to the way she touched my hands at the bar, surprised by how cold they were, warming them up. How she put her hand on the small of my back when I was walking in front of her. How she asked, “Can I kiss you?” in my passenger seat outside of her apartment at 1am. How she tasted sweet, like candy. How I didn’t want her to leave my car, how I wanted to go inside with her. How she texted me after that she’s glad she ran into me. How she said she has a crush on me and wants to take me on a date, but after Thanksgiving, because it’s complicated. I need to be patient, because it’s tricky with work. We might be working together. And a big holiday is right around the corner. So we have to wait. But the pit in my stomach is ignoring all of the nice things she said. The playful, flirty things she did. I can’t stop wondering: what if she changes her mind about me?  

My heart won’t stop beating fast and loud. I think about the counting sheep trick, and my depleted little pea brain can’t remember if it’s a wives tale or if it’s actually supposed to help lull you to sleep. I figure it can’t hurt. I start counting, but instead of sheep, I count every time the clock ticks. One. Two. Three. The clock has still been loyally ticking this whole time that my head’s been off doing its Olympic Mental Gymnastics, going for gold, burning so many calories that my brain might get so lean that I’ll only ever be able to think about this crush. A broken record player scratching the same spot forever. Four. Five. Six. After Hurricane Katrina, I went to New Orleans with a group to help clean and rebuild, and one business that I helped repair had a big analog clock hanging on one of its walls. The classic black and white one. Like everything else in what was left of the building, it was broken. Whatever time was displayed on the clock must have been the moment Katrina’s flood waters got so high that it short circuited and stopped. I am certainly not likening my personal anxieties to a massive natural disaster, but I am saying I think my brain has hit its maximum flood level of thoughts, and if it turned off soon I would not be the least bit surprised. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. It’s actually working a little bit. I can only focus on counting, not on crushing, and I feel myself seeping deeper into the bed, begging it to engulf me and kill my brain. At this point, that is a thing I want.  

For better or worse, I still have enough gray matter in my broken brain to think of all the permutations of how our date could go. The date that still feels like it’s in an entirely different calendar year from now. Where we might eat. Our feet touching under the table. Wondering if she’ll gently touch my hands again. What we’ll talk about. What’ll happen after dinner. Will one of us suggest going to a nearby bar to talk more? Will we go back to her place? That’s where most of my daydreams lead. Her place. I haven’t been inside her apartment, but she showed me around a bit when we met virtually for work a few months ago - when I wish I’d more overtly tried to forge a connection so things might be further along by now, but how was I to know I’d feel this way? - and I’ve seen other bits and pieces on Instagram. Still, I have no real concept of the layout, but my brain has created its own blueprint. We walk inside and she offers to get me a drink, and I don’t really want another one because I’ve had one at dinner, but I say yes and hoist myself up onto the kitchen counter while she makes it (a cocktail) or pours it (wine). She brings it over and I barely wait for her to hand it to me before I put it down and we start kissing. In another version, I ask to use the bathroom once we get inside and then, when I’m done, I open the door and she’s just waiting outside for me. We start kissing. That one’s a little weird, I guess. In a different permutation, we sit down on the couch to watch a movie. She asks what movie I want to watch, and I say some version of, “It doesn’t matter… I don’t plan on watching for long.” We start kissing. The last one’s sort of a bold one. I’m not always bold in these situations. Sometimes I am, but only if I feel almost certain that the other person feels the same way I do. When we ran into each other at the bar, she made a comment about wanting to kiss 28 people at her 28th birthday party. A friend who saw us interact reminded me that I apparently responded with, “I hope I’m one of them.” At any rate, impatience is clearly a common thread in all three of these scenarios. No matter the route, all the daydreams lead to the same place. 

If my parents’ behavior - the hugging and the toilet paper folding and the grocery shopping and the loving - is any indicator, you would think my attachment style is so firmly, unquestionably secure that I should be memorialized in the Museum of Good Mental Health. Give me a ribbon cutting ceremony, give me pomp, give me circumstance. As it turns out, I might just have an anxious attachment style, which is a realization that only occurred to me relatively recently but I’m sure occurred to my friends 6 crushes ago. It hit me out of the blue one morning when I was brushing my teeth, my intrusive thoughts picking a moment to strike when my defenses were down and I was unable to distract myself. And it makes perfect, crystal clear sense. Being closeted for so long, you get accustomed to feeling wrong. Feeling bad. Feeling like your thoughts aren’t right, you’re different, you don’t belong. You’re so wrong so bad so wrong and so bad. For the longest time I didn’t have many people around me who I knew were queer, so my crushes were either on fictional characters or straight girls. And do you know what fictional characters and straight girls don’t have the capacity to do? Like you back. Return your feelings. Living in a cycle of desperately wanting someone who doesn’t have the ability or desire to want you back does something to a person: after a while, it makes you feel unlovable. You internalize it and conclude you’re not worthy of love. There is a problem, and the problem is you. Reciprocity starts to feel like a never-going-to-happen-thing - it’s not situational, it’s global. And it gets reiterated over and over because you get caught in that dynamic, addicted to the pattern. Even though it’s miserable, it’s familiar. With all that said, I also do want to acknowledge that being a human is hard. I would submit that we all feel insecure and, at times, unworthy of love or even being liked. It doesn’t require trauma or any particular type of hardship to have an obsessive crush, a lack of self-confidence, a difficult time navigating feelings. But I do think my early relationship with my queerness is inherently part of the mix for me, personally. 

It feels as if my crush is camping out in my brain. This crush, and all of my baggage surrounding this crush, is making my heart beat really fast and really loud. Have I allowed this to go too far? Undoubtedly yes. Should there also be room for some self-empathy? I think also probably yes. Definitely yes. Someone told me that they like me, and it has sent alarm bells throughout my system. Someone has both the capacity to like me and does like me. And because I have a scarcity mindset when it comes to romantic love, my body is trying to hold on so tightly and doesn’t want to let it go. I keep replaying those moments of compliments and touch and feeling good on a dizzying loop because my brain thinks that might be the last time it will happen. A sign of a crush pulling back - a non-response for a few hours, a different tone, a shortness - it all feels like a total dismissal, my worst fears confirmed. It sends me right past Go, Do Not Collect $200, in fact Why Don’t You Go Right To Loveless Jail! My neural pathways have been carved throughout time to expect rejection and disappointment, but I’m trying to free myself from the tired maze of my own myopic thinking. Ultimately I have no idea how this will turn out, and that’s incredibly anxiety inducing. Gaming out all of the things I’m going to say to her, or where we’ll go on our date, or who will make the first move and what that move will be - it all creates an illusion of control. But this isn’t something I can control. It’s a thing to recognize, look in the face, and surrender to. Another person is a thing I really can not control. Uncertainty is an aspect of reality that no one, including me, is ever free from. I can, however, remind myself that this is not the only good thing I will ever experience. There will be more crushes, more reciprocated feelings, more Can I Kiss Yous?, more grazing hands at a bar. If we’re lucky, we’ll all have many spaces, many places, many people to call home. 

[navstuffs]

Protective

Pairing: Robert Pattinson x female famous!reader

Summary: Robert will always protect (Y/N) when she needs him the most.

Warning: comfort/protective Rob, mention of stalking, anxiety attacks

Authors note: I finally watched The Batman and it was so gooood. Do yourself a favor and go watch it. i have been in love with this man since i was 14 or 15 years old and im so proud of the actor he has become <3

Robert and (Y/N) were invited to the Paris Fashion Week. After the success the Power Couple of Hollywood had that year with talks about (Y/N) being indicated for her first Oscar, their manager thought it was a good idea for them to appear at the Fashion Weeks around the world. Robert went alone to the London one (Y/N was busy during an event from her latest movie) but for Paris, they both need to appear. It was exciting for (Y/N) since it was a full week of changing different clothes, different hairstyles. She wouldn't lie but dressing with brands like Valentino, Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace, and many others was pretty cool.

It was their third night, tonight being the Balenciaga's fashion show. (Y/N) was getting her hair and make-up done, while Rob, already dressed, was on his phone. He took a few pictures while she was getting ready for his personal collection of funny pictures of his girlfriend, so he could use them against her. He had a whole album about it as she had his. When they were finally done and (Y/N) was fully dressed, Robert's mouth opened, amazed.

"You look so pretty, darling. All eyes will be on you. As they should." Robert blurted before she could even ask. She winked in his direction, smiling.

Out of the hotel, the screams of the paparazzi were loud as they ran to enter the car. (Y/N) was surprised to see the amount of paparazzi. They always had a few following them, even when she was single but never that much. It looked like about fifty people outside taking pictures, getting as close to the car's tinted windows as they could. (Y/N) asked the manager what was the meaning of all of this.

"Some source told them you are pregnant and Robert is about to propose/proposed. But don't worry-" he rapidly completed, due to Robert and (Y/N)'s shocked expressions "-we are working to stop those rumors. So you will be seeing more of those now before the rumors die it down or they prey on someone else."

(Y/N) felt her heart bumping as the car moved on the busy streets of Paris. Pregnant? Her? Robert and she didn't even have the marriage talk yet. A baby? Not even on their most expanded horizons. They already had to live between New York- Los Angeles- London. It would be chaotic for a baby to be brought into this world. She felt a tight squeeze on her hand and looked to find Rob's worried expression.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, smiling to calm Robert's nerves. She didn't want him worried while they were doing so well. She was going to be fine. She just needed to breathe and not let her mind be polluted with those thoughts.

There was huge traffic ahead of the place. Their assistant warned their coming was expected so the paparazzi went crazy and flooded the main entrance so they had to go into the less crowded staff entrance. Robert looked around apprehensive but still appeared calm for (Y/N). He didn't want to worry her much especially because he didn't know how the paparazzi got him shopping for rings with his dad, two months earlier. They didn't get any pictures, so it was easy to convince (Y/N) didn't happen. He wanted to make it special for her, not to be ruined by being on the first page of The Sun.

"Uh oh, bad news: there are some in the back. The police officers will help us but it might be a little hustle. Robert goes first then (Y/N)."

(Y/N)'s panicked stare made Robert promptly inquire:

"Are you sure we can't go together?"

"Better not to for security reasons. I think one goes first then the other-"

"We go together." Robert said in a decisive tone.

"Robert, I know it is what you two want but maybe for security reasons-"

"We go together." His voice sounded deeper now, ending the discussion.

When the car finally parked in the back of the building, (Y/N)'s heart stopped for a second. The police officers created a small corridor towards the entrance, surrounded by cameras. It was clear they didn't have enough security to hold those people back.

"Do you think you can do this, (Y/N)?" Robert questioned.

"Yes. I can do it." (Y/N) reassured him, trying to sound stronger than she felt. Her mom always said even if she wasn't feeling strong, she should believe it she was. Fake til you make it.

"Nothing will happen to you. It is a promise. I won't let none of them hurt you."

A few years before dating Robert, (Y/N) had a bad experience with a stalker. The man invaded her house while she was away and was arrested by police on the same night. She changed her address the very next day. After that, security around her was reinforced. She passed countless nights without sleeping, she had a security team coming in and out of her house, feeling invaded and protected at the same time. Robert knew this. He knew how much trauma she passed and he vouched himself to protect her when she needed. No one would hurt (Y/N) in front of him, never. Emotionally or physically.

(Y/N) nodded, her worried face cutting Robert's heart in a half. He had to do it for her. He placed his hands on her face, planting on her lips a fast kiss.

"Let's do this as we faced Tom Holland's disastrous dinner: together!"

The driver and manager exited the car. She breathed rapidly three times, telling herself she could do it. She definitely could do this. Their manager opened the door for them, telling people to step aside. Robert exited first, waiting for her, standing his hand out. Paparazzi and security surrounded the car like bees around flowers during Spring. Photographers were screaming how the pregnancy was going and where the marriage was going to take place. Their manager kept reminding them to stay back as Robert remained with his hand extended for her, smiling like they were just exiting their Uber on a Sunday morning at the park and there was absolutely no one around them.

She finally grabbed his hand, exiting the car. Robert immediately covered his body over her, the security guys and manager trying to keep the photographers away as they walked to the front. (Y/N) kept her face up, but inside she was going through turbulence of emotions. She wanted to run away from there, never to be seen again. The only thing keeping her together and walking was Robert's arms around her hips, his body protecting hers. How far away that entrance was again? Because it didn't seem that far when she looked first.

Her vision was blind with flashes and she barely knew where she was going if it wasn't for Rob. She always admired how he always did it so well unlike her. Almost eight years as a celebrity and she never got used to it. It got intensively worse when they started dating. Maybe they should just get a farm, marry, have two kids, cows, chickens all of that. Far away from all this mess.

"Ugh, finally. They have been getting too much...(Y/N)?"

(Y/N) didn't even register the moment they were finally inside the building. Robert's voice sounded distant, and she could still feel his hands on her hips, holding her safely. (Y/N) was feeling disoriented, her body light as she looked for a hand for support. There were just too many lights, too much noise. She needed a minute.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?" She heard Robert's distant voice get closer now. She could hear him asking for water, their manager telling someone to put her on the sofa. She wanted to say she just needed a minute to breathe, just a second to the world stop spinning.

"Breathe. Breathe love, please. Just breathe" She never heard Robert so desperate like that before. She wanted to answer she was okay, he didn't need to worry, but she couldn't find her voice "Breathe in and out."

(Y/N) follow as told, breathing in and out, Robert's voice repeating this again and again like a mantra.

Soon, her vision started getting more clear as she felt a warm hand rubbing her back. Someone seemed to be fanning her. When her vision cleared, the first thing she noticed was Robert's dirty blonde hair, his blue eyes filled with worry. He was focused, looking at any traces of her being hurt.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" Robert was close to losing his mind seeing his girlfriend like that. His heart was heavy as he couldn't do anything except wait for her to feel better.

"I am good. Sorry, I am good now."

"You don't have to apologize, dear." Her manager worried face appeared behind Rob, a huge paper fan in his hand.

"Are you sure you are okay? You don't want to go back to the hotel or anything?" Robert asked, his face pained with concern. He examined her face for any signs of anxiety but she looked much calmer now.

"I am fine. It is okay. I think it was everything. Pregnancy, marriage. I am sorry again."

"You don't have to apologize, love." Rob tranquilized her. He couldn't control himself anymore, hugging her in front of the whole staff. People were nice enough to give them privacy, leaving them alone as Robert made sure she was okay. (Y/N) was okay. She was going to be fine.

"Thank you for protecting me out there."

"I really didn't. You still got hurt."

"If wasn't for you out there, I don't know what could have happened to me."

Robert decided to not argue, holding (Y/N) tightly on his arms. He needed to do better to never see her cry again. She, on the other hand, was extremely thankful for Robert's presence in her life. He had some odd ideas (that she loved), declared some weird shit, or made up some stories (that she would help him get even worse), but she was most importantly happy. She trusted him with her all soul and heart.

Taglist: @uwiuwi

MASTERLIST | REQUESTS ARE OPEN | TAGLIST

[piratesfromspace]

Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw.  Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are. 

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

[uvobreakmylegs]

Detour

I’m excited that it’s fall but i’m also sad that i won’t be able to swim anymore

Warnings: death, graphic depictions of violence, creepy behavior, groping, mentions of smut, kidnapping

The two guys at the gas station check out counter had been there when Phinks had first walked through the sliding glass doors, and they were still there when he approached the check out himself, having only dropped in to grab another pack of beer. The gas station clerk seemed annoyed while the two guys were pulling their pockets inside out, evidently in search of any spare change that may have been hiding on their persons. There was a sad pile of jenny and some change sitting in front of the clerk while she waited for them impatiently, and she seemed ready to push all of the money back towards them as it became more and more likely that these two didn't have enough cash for the assortment of alcohol and junk food that also sat on the counter.

Any other time Phinks would've been annoyed by the situation. But seeing as he didn't have anywhere to be, he found that he didn't really care all that much. The troupe likely wouldn't meet back up for some time which left his schedule quite open, and he had found it difficult to find something to occupy his time with while he waited for the boss to bring everyone together again.

Phinks had decided that a road trip was a decent way to pass the time. It was something he'd never really done before and so far it was easing his boredom as he had hoped it would. There was no real time limit he had set on himself or any destination that he had in mind. He'd just keep doing whatever he felt like until the novelty of the trip wore off and then go home.

“Would you like to take a few items off?”

The tired voice of the clerk cut through his thoughts, and Phinks found that there had been no progress with the two in front of him.

“No no, we need all of it,” one of the men, a redhead, insisted, “we just, uh....”

Trailing off, the man glanced over to Phinks, who was still waiting with his single pack of beer. Then the man looked over to his companion and then back to the items on the counter.

Phinks could already sense what the man was going to ask of him before he spoke out.

“Hey man,” the guy said to Phinks, “I know it sounds bad, but do you think you could spot me on this? I'm bringing this stuff back for my party. We ran out of some stuff way quicker than we expected. Can't let people down, y'know?”

The redhead started telling him how much more they needed until the clerk interrupted him to tell him off for harassing other customers for money. A mini argument started between the two, with the man insisting that he wasn't harassing anyone and the clerk disagreeing with him. The man's friend joined in shortly after and it was quickly turning into a mess.

What obnoxious fucking people.

If he was in more of a bad mood he'd have probably snapped the necks of all of them. The presence of cameras stopped him from doing that, however, as it would just be too much of a pain to go to the back and destroy the footage after. Still, even though he didn't have anywhere to be, it didn't mean that he wanted to waste his time listening to people bicker. The easiest way out of this was to just give them the jenny so they'd all shut up.

After pulling out his wallet, Phinks slid the jenny across the counter.

That shut the three of them up, and the two men were quick to express their gratitude while the clerk just looked tired.

“Thank you so, so much, man,” the redhead continued after they collected their bagged items.

“Mm-hm.”

Phinks was only half-paying attention to him as he waited for the clerk to scan the beer so he could hand her the jenny owed. That transaction went much quicker and Phinks was soon making his way to the exit.

The two men seemed to be waiting on him, though.

“Hey, since you helped us out, you wanna come to my party?” the redhead asked.

Normally his automatic response would've been to give him a flat “no”. But in this instance Phinks just shrugged.

That seemed to give the redhead hope, and he began listing the reasons why Phinks should follow them back, like his “cool house”, hot women and great beer.

Given the especially cheap brand of beer Phinks had largely paid for, he had a hard time believing that last point. He also wasn't quite sure why this guy was so insistent on getting him to come along. Was it really just because Phinks had bothered to help them out?

“Name's Stu by the way. Back there is Billy,” the redhead told him, sticking out his arm to shake hands. When Phinks didn't do the same, Stu seemed a bit dejected, yet even that didn't make him back down from inviting Phinks.

“So how 'bout it, man? You wanna come?”

“.... I'll think about it,” he told him.

“Okay, but do it fast man. My place isn't that far from here.”

Phinks nodded, and Stu ran off to the car where his friend was waiting. The other guy didn't seem as keen on Phinks as the redhead had, regarding the blonde with suspicion. Phinks could hear him saying something as the two entered the car. Stu seemed to brush him off, and then their car doors closed and Phinks couldn't hear anything else.

The two ended up pulling out of the parking lot before he did, and Phinks found himself following them as they all made the same turn onto the highway.

He still had no real urge to go to some random guy's party, especially when he found him to be pretty annoying. And if it was a party filled with the friends of someone like that, he'd probably get irritated with all of them pretty quick. Better to just ignore them and be on his way.

Although the thought of just driving aimlessly through the night wasn't all that attractive, either. He'd done that several times now, and the feeling of being the only person in the world while he drove on the empty highway had lost its touch by now.

The car in front of him veered off the highway to get onto a side road.

After a few seconds, Phinks did the same, just thinking to himself 'why not?'. It would be something different, a little detour on a trip that was meant to be a distraction, and if it ended up being something that he didn't want to bother with, then he could just leave.

Although the noise level in the house wasn't quiet, it was nowhere near ear-shatteringly loud as Phinks may have expected. At least it had that in it's favor. Other than that, it was a stereotypical frat house party, with everyone talking and drinking as they got more and more shitfaced.

The two who brought him here vanished into the kitchen, and Phinks began to make his way around the house, sipping one of the cans of beer he had bought for himself since he had no interest in the shit the host had him pay for. A girl in one of the upstairs rooms noticed the beer in his hand and begged him to share with her, even going as far as to tug on the sleeve of his jacket when he told her no. He ended up pushing her away, and though he had tried to use as little force as possible, his strength combined with her tipsiness caused her to stumble back into a wall. She was still whining about him when he walked back down the stairs, going on about how mean he was.

He thought he'd been pretty nice to her, all things considered.

It didn't take long for Phinks to lose interest in this particular distraction. Not that he'd been expecting much, but after going around the house and not even seeing anything that might be worth stealing, he figured it'd be best to leave soon. With his short temper being one of his vices, he didn't want to deal with what would happen if some drunk got on his nerves and he smashed them into the wall.

With the sights, sounds and smells became grating to him and seeing no reason to stay any longer, Phinks went about trying to find an exit. Attempting to get out the same way he came in was put to a stop when he saw how congested the front entrance had become. He could've easily pushed past all of them, but since that would likely draw a fair amount of attention, maybe it'd be a better idea to find a different way out. Phinks wandered into the kitchen, walking by Stu who tried to talk to him. A patio door leading to the backyard caught his eye and he ignored the party's host as he walked by several people to get to it.

The cool air outside felt refreshing and he let out a soft sigh as the patio door slowly swung closed. Claustrophobia generally wasn't something he had an issue with, but that seemed to change a little when he was faced with a house full of drunken strangers who didn't understand the meaning of personal space. Another nice thing was the fact that no one else seemed to be out here. He didn't think it was that cold out, but it worked just fine if the people inside thought otherwise.

He stood on a deck with an assortment of patio furniture that sat in front of an in ground pool, and when he looked to the side, he saw the gate within the fencing that surrounded the backyard.

That was his way out, then.

With no more reason to stick around, he was about to head out and back to his car-

But he paused when he heard the sound of splashing water, and he looked back to the pool.

So he wasn't the only person out here.

Some of the patio furniture had blocked you from his sight so he hadn't noticed you at first, but you were now swimming out into the center of the pool and impossible to miss. It was pretty late in the year for swimming, wasn't it? Yet you seemed to be content with yourself despite the temperature and lack of company, swimming around the pool like you owned it. Maybe you did; he wasn't sure what your relation was to the party host.

Then your eyes met, and you smiled as you greeted him.

“Hello.”

“... Hey.”

He hadn't come out to look for company. He was looking to leave.

Yet something about this situation, about you, intrigued him, and Phinks walked forward, continuing with “isn't it a little late in the season for swimming?”

“That's what everyone seems to think,” you said, “it's going to be drained tomorrow, so I wanted to swim one more time before that. It's the last chance I'll get for this year.”

“No public pools around here?” he asked.

“I don't really like public pools,” you told him, laughing a little bit as you continued “the ones around here are never clean, and I don't wanna swim around in nasty water.”

Phinks couldn't say if he really had an opinion one way or the other. He tried to avoid situations where he'd need to be shirtless in public, as the spider with the number 5 on his ribs would've been a dead giveaway for anyone who understood it's meaning. He just shrugged at you as he said “fair enough.”

Phinks now stood at the edge of the pool while you swam up to the edge.

“I don't think I've seen you before. You new around here?” you asked him.

“No. Just passing through. Helped out the host at the gas station and he invited me as thanks,” Phinks explained, “I was expecting this to be taking place at some shitty apartment; didn't think a guy like that owned a house.”

“He doesn't, it belongs to his older brother Jed. Stu just lives with him,” you responded.

“Ah.”

That made a bit more sense to him. Since he hadn't been able to buy beer from a gas station on his own, it didn't seem likely that the guy would've had his own house. So he was just leeching off of his brother.

Despite being ready to leave just minutes earlier, he found that he now had a reason to want to stay here longer. But standing and talking to you was getting a little awkward, so Phinks sat himself down on the concrete next to the pool. So far you weren't annoying compared to some of the others. And despite being by yourself beforehand, you seemed pretty open to talking with him, resting your arms on the edge of the pool.

“You friends with them, then?”

“Jed is in a few of my classes, so I'm friends with him. Not Stu, though. He's kind of an asshole. Likes to play a lot of stupid pranks.”

You rested your chin in your hand as you thought back.

“He's destroyed two of my phones so far, both times by dumping water on me,” you said, “although I guess he did repay me for both, but it's still such a hassle to go through.”

“You're nicer than I am. If some guy like that fucked up my phone I'd kill him.”

You laughed at him, not taking his words seriously.

“You seem nice enough. You helped him out, right?”

“Only because it was the fastest way to get outta there. Stupid bastard started an argument with the clerk.”

“Yeah. That sounds like something he'd do,” you said, tiredness lacing your voice.

A cheer then sounded from inside the house, and though the doors and windows were closed, it was loud enough that the both of you could hear it from outside.

“Things must be ramping up in there,” you commented.

“Guess so,” Phinks said, taking a swig of his drink after.

“Isn't it kinda weird that you're keeping to yourself with an event like this? Don't see the point in going out if you're going to avoid people,” he added.

“But isn't that what you're doing by coming out here?” you asked.

“Nah, I was getting ready to leave.”

“What stopped you?”

“I haven't done much out here beside sitting here talking to you. What do you think?”

You seemed a bit taken aback and a little embarrassed as you realized the reason, but gave him a small smile.

“Oh wow. Are you saying I managed to be charming enough to keep a guy from leaving?” you asked him.

“No. You're just not as annoying as the others I've met tonight.”

Your expression was rather blank as you took in that information.

“..... I'll take that as a compliment, then,” you said, “so what do you do?”

“What do I do?”

“For a job, or just anything in general.”

“I do a couple odd jobs here and there, I guess,” he answered, “every once in a while a bigger opportunity comes up, and I just do whatever I need to.”

It was an oversimplification of his criminal activities, and he hoped that he'd been vague enough without sounding suspicious.

It appeared that he had as you didn't seem to think it was strange.

“You mentioned earlier that you were just passing through. Are you on your way to a job or something?”

“Nah. I'm currently off-duty. And I had a lot of time to kill, so I decided to take a road trip.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” you said, “I work on campus, so I don't really get to do vacations for now. Can't remember the last time I went on one.”

“Job at least worth it?”

“Kind of? Although the other week I needed to go through something stupid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I got screamed at by a lady.”

Your tone made it seem like that was something happened on a regular basis.

“For what?” he asked.

“Something with her daughter's textbooks. She ordered one that she didn't need on accident but didn't want to admit that she made a mistake, so she just let her mother yell at me for forty minutes and claim that we were the ones who fucked up.”

You sighed a little after the explanation. Evidently that situation still made you frustrated.

“.... Did she apologize after?” Phinks asked.

With a slightly wistful smile, you shook your head as you said “people like that don't apologize.”

“Sounds rough.”

It went without saying that Phinks wouldn't have tolerated anything like that. If it had been him he'd have killed them both and tossed their bodies in the trash. But he kept that rather violent thought to himself.

“Sorry you needed to deal with that,” he added.

“It's okay. It's little things that keep you going,” you said, “I've been looking forward to swimming for a while, so I'm pretty happy right now. Although I guess I'm kinda doing a job right now.”

“How so?”

“Jed's at his job right now, and since he doesn't trust Stu, he asked me to make sure nothing happens to the pool. The last time Stu had a party there was a bunch of trash in it the next morning, and it was a pain to clean up. So in exchange for using the pool, I have full permission to snitch on anyone who tosses anything.”

“Yeah? What's snitching gonna do?”

“Jed's a scary guy. Nobody wants to make him mad.”

If Phinks had felt like being more of an asshole, and if you'd been unpleasant during your conversation with him, he probably would've taken his half-finished beer can and thrown it into the pool just to upset you and also to see if your friend was as scary as you were making him out to be.

But so far he'd been enjoying himself, so as fun as that thought might have been, he decided against it.

You pulled one of your arms off of the rim and back into the water. Evidently you were getting cold, but you held on to the edge to continue speaking to him.

“So how long have you been on your trip?” you asked.

“A few weeks.”

“A few weeks? You must have been all over the place, then. Did you go anywhere in particular?”

“Not really,” Phinks answered, “didn't have any real plan when I set out. Just drove to wherever I thought would be interesting.”

“That's kinda cool,” you said, “must be nice to be able to go wherever you want without any real plan.”

“You can't?”

“Nope. Classes and work means I can't just run off whenever I feel like it.”

“Too busy getting screamed at?” he asked jokingly.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answered, laughing a little after.

You pulled your other arm back underwater and just kept a hand on the side of the wall.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Probably why most people aren't swimming this late.”

“I don't care; it's worth it,” you said, “honestly, the thought of being able to swim was what kept me going this week.”

That.... Was a little bit sad, Phinks thought to himself. That all you had to look forward to at the end of the week was a few hours to swim by yourself in the cold. There were much sadder circumstances in the world – he was certain that anyone from Meteor City would be more than happy to switch places with you – but your life must have felt empty. Although Phinks was technically in the same boat at the moment, at least being with the troupe gave him purpose. What did you have besides a shitty job and presumably a fair amount of college debt? Just the 'little things' to keep you going?

Maybe he was presuming too much; he'd only just met you after all. But it bothered him regardless.

“What are your plans for after college?” he asked.

You seemed a bit startled, and you looked away from him for the first time.

“Not really sure, actually. I'm still undecided on my major,” you admitted, “I need to figure out soon, though. I'm going to run out of the basic coursework that I need to get through, and my family is getting mad that I haven't made a decision yet.”

So you didn't have any direction and were being pressured by others. Still not the saddest circumstance ever, but if it had been him, Phinks was certain he'd have been miserable.

You clearly didn't want to keep going on about that particular subject, as you began to ask him questions about his trip, wanting to know where exactly he had been so far and how much longer he planned to drive for. The change in topics was obvious, but he decided to go along with it.

As the night grew darker while the two of you talked, he decided that he liked you. You could hold a decent conversation, even if the things you two talked about weren't all that meaningful.

You were pretty cute, too.

The party behind him still seemed to be going strong, but it was largely going ignored by you both, in part by the fact that you were still the only ones outside.

Your face lit up as a thought came to mind.

“You should come in!” you told him.

“No thanks.”

“Come on! It's really nice!”

You grabbed at his free hand, tugging on his arm lightly as you tried to encourage him to get into the pool.

“If you get my suit wet I'll drown you,” Phinks said told you.

You giggled, once more not taking him seriously. Though he was only half-serious about it at this point.

“Then take it off and come in,” you insisted.

“I don't have a swimsuit.”

“That doesn't stop most people.

“Good to know,” he said flatly.

Though you'd stopped tugging on his arm, both of your hands remained on his wrist as you looked up at him.

“Can you not swim?” you asked.

“I can swim fine,” he said, “I just don't feel like it right now.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, but you had yet to let go of his wrist.

“Should you really be that surprised with the temperature being what it is?” he asked you.

“It isn't that bad. And the pool is heated,” you insisted, “didn't think a bit of chill would scare off the most interesting person at this party, though.”

The corner of his lips curled a bit at that. He wasn't one for meaningless flattery, but he didn't mind hearing you say things like that.

“Is that why you're not letting go of me?”

“You don't seem to be doing much to shake me off.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

“So you don't want to?”

You were teasing him. And while he could tease you back, he went for a different approach.

He yanked his wrist out of your grip and grabbed your own wrist just as fast, and lifted you up until you were eye level with him. To say you were flustered by the action would've been an understatement, and your free hand grasped at the arm that held you up to lessen the weight on the arm that he had trapped.

With you partially out of the water, Phinks allowed his eyes to travel over your form, following the trails of water that dripped down your skin and imagining exactly what you looked like under that swimsuit. His grin got wider when he saw your body reacting to the cooler temperature and the way your nipples showed through the material. It hadn't been on his mind when he first approached you, but after spending time with you he found himself liking the idea of fooling around with you. Probably not in the house, and he doubted you would want to do anything in the pool due to that friend of yours you had mentioned. Maybe there was some dark corner around here where he could take you to do what he wanted.

You were squirming a little, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“It's cold,” you whined.

“Yep,” was his reply.

“Come on, let go. I'm only in a swimsuit.”

“You weren't letting me go,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I didn't pull you into the water.”

“Because you're too weak to do that.”

“That's not fair!”

“Don't think this is a situation where fairness matters, sweetheart.”

With that he let you go, and you dropped back down into the pool. You pushed away from the wall after, giving him a slightly sour look.

“Problem?” he asked.

“It's cold,” you repeated.

He just smirked.

“You're gonna need to deal with it at some point,” he told you.

“Yeah, but I wasn't ready for it then!”

You had to have noticed the way he looked at you, right? There was no way you were so oblivious to have not seen how he had blatantly looked you over. Yet you weren't mentioning it.

By now you were more at the center of the pool, pointedly out of his range.

“You done talking?” Phinks asked.

“No, but I don't want you pulling me out again.”

Then you looked away like you were embarrassed.

It clicked for him. You must have liked it, but you were too shy to say anything about it.

Your reluctance was cute, though Phinks knew he'd get tired of that game pretty fast.

“Come back over,” he told you.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

You shook your head.

“You're going to do that again, right?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

“Then no. I don't wanna get out yet.”

“How long are you gonna stay in there?”

“Until I feel like getting out.”

“And if I want you out of there now?”

“Then you'd have to come in and get me.”

…. Oh

That's what it was.

A ploy by you to get him into the pool.

That's what you had to mean by those words, right?

“.... What the hell,” he said to himself as he stood.

It got your attention when he began to remove his clothing, throwing them over to a few neatly folded articles of clothing that sat next to a bag on the patio, which he assumed belonged to you. You were watching him closely, and he could sense a growing interest in you when he removed his shirt. Your eyes lingered a little when you caught sight of his spider tattoo, but there was no hint that you recognized what it meant, which was preferable.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

“You were looking at me earlier,” you answered defensively, “you're not allowed to get mad when I do the same.”

“Didn't say I was mad.”

You acknowledging the way he had looked at you then just reaffirmed in his head that you hadn't minded, and after stripping down to his boxers, Phinks jumped in. The water felt just as nice as you had said, but he didn't take much time to focus on it as he was quick to approach you. Within moments, he had wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close, lifting you a little so you were at eye level with him. You seemed flustered again, but you didn't make any move to get away, and were resting your hands on his chest.

“I don't think you told me your name,” you whispered to him.

“Phinks.”

“Phinks,” you repeated, smiling afterwards, “I like it. It's cool.”

“Thanks,” he replied, “and how 'bout you?”

You gave him your name, which he also repeated to himself.

“Not as cool as 'Phinks', I guess,” you said.

“It suits you,” he said.

You smiled at him, then shifted slightly in his grip.

“Are you just gonna keep holding me?”

“You said I needed to come in and get you.”

“And what did you want to 'get' me for?”

Despite the question, you clearly had an idea of what Phinks was after as you began to move in closer to him. Phinks did the same, and slowly, the gap between the two of you was closed as your lips met together in a kiss.

With the heavy scent of pool chemicals that surrounded you two, it was hard to smell much else, but your lips were soft against his. The kiss was a bit tame for his liking, but he let you do what you wanted for now as you readjusted your arms so they were wrapped around his neck.

One of his hands slid down your back to reach down and squeeze your ass, and you gasped into the kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment before you pulled away, your hand over your mouth as you looked away in embarrassment.

“I'm not sure we should do much more here,” you said, glancing up at the house behind him, “there are people watching. I'm not into that.”

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked. It didn't surprise him much that you two might have attracted an audience, and when he heard the door to the patio open from behind him, he chose to ignore it.

“I don't think we'll get much privacy here, so how about my place?” you asked.

“Do you usually bring home strangers?”

“Only the really cool ones.”

He grinned.

You were leaning in to kiss him again when you suddenly froze and turned your attention to something behind Phinks.

“Don't do that!” you yelled.

Phinks turned his head just in time to see his and your clothes land in the water, with the guy who'd invited him – Stu, he remembered – pointing and laughing after having thrown them. The annoying woman from earlier, the one who had whined at him for his can of beer, was also there, standing behind Stu and running off with him towards the gate in the fence.

Phinks saw red.

He let you go and swiftly exited the pool, following after the two even as the chill of the night air nipped at his skin. He barely felt it, and he didn't give a shit that he was running around barefoot either. All of his focus was on catching up to those two assholes who'd dumped his clothes in the pool.

He was angry enough that he didn't notice the sound of feet following after him.

The two perpetrators were in an alleyway between two rows of houses, drunkenly laughing their asses off. Their demeanor didn't change when Phinks caught up to them. The woman actually began to laugh harder, probably because Phinks was still wearing only his boxers.

Stu was trying to contain himself a bit, and put his hands up as an offering of peace.

“Hey man, it wasn't anything personal. Just a prank,” he said, “you can use the dryer, and I'll lend you some clothes-”

His sentence was cut off when Phinks grabbed both sides of his head and twisted it completely around, the cracking of his broken neck ringing out in the empty alley.

The sight of Stu falling to the ground with his head facing the wrong way had the woman instantly sober up, and she looked to Phinks as she opened her mouth to scream.

Barely a whisper of sound was able to escape as he did the same thing to her, and now Phinks was standing half-naked in an alley with two dead bodies.

“Obnoxious fucking people,” he muttered to himself.

Then there was noise that came from behind him.

Phinks turned and saw the other guy who'd been at the gas station on the ground, his arms barely supporting himself as his eyes were wide at the sight of his friends dead before him.

His eyes widened even further when he spotted the spider on Phinks' ribs, clearly recognizing what it meant as he whispered “oh my god.”

Make that three bodies, Phinks thought to himself as he rushed forward to snap his neck as well.

Three bodies that he needed to get rid of. If anyone else from the party came out here and found them, the police would be called immediately. He had no intentions of staying here any longer, but it'd be best to put a bit of distance between himself and the crime scene before the police were inevitably called.

He was dragging the other guy by his ankles and in the process of collecting the woman's body when someone walked out into the alley through one of the other entrances. An older woman, who was definitely not from the party and had come from another house, carrying a bag of trash walked out in front of Phinks, and like the guy right before, her eyes grew wide as she saw the sight of the dead before her.

She made a move to run back to her house, but Phinks picked up a pebble that he infused with nen and launched it at her head. It traveled through her skull and the fencing beside her, and blood sprayed out from the exit wound and splattered onto the fence as well as she fell to the ground.

This was turning into a goddamn mess, and after Phinks had thrown now four bodies over into a different backyard, he heard a voice calling out “mom?” from the direction that the woman with the trash bag had come from.

Fuck this. He needed to go.

When he returned to the backyard to retrieve his clothes, he found you on the patio. You were holding his jacket over the concrete, desperately trying to wring out the water that had soaked it completely. You were visibly shivering as you did so, with goosebumps running up your arms and your teeth chattering. He noticed his pants hanging off the fence that surrounded the patio, and while they weren't dry by any means, you had clearly done your best to get the water out of them. Meanwhile your own clothes laid in a soggy heap by your equally soaked bag.

You noticed him when he walked closer.

“I'm sorry,” you told him. You looked guilty for some reason.

“You didn't do it,” Phinks said, considerably calmer now.

“No. But I made a big deal about you getting in with me, and with Stu around I should've been paying attention. I'm really, really sorry.”

He was about to tell you to stop apologizing when he heard a shout coming from the direction of the alleyway.

Fuck. He forgot that he needed to leave.

Luckily you were the only one who noticed, as the rest of the party goers still had the doors and windows securely shut. He pulled on his pants and his sopping wet tank top, and the sensation of wearing those wet clothes was just as unpleasant as he had anticipated. At least his shoes were still dry.

You were still holding his jacket, looking confused as you looked off in the direction where you'd heard that voice. Phinks was about to just take it from you and leave, but when he looked you over again, he thought over the things you two had talked about, the things you had said and how you'd acted around him, and he came to a split second decision.

Grabbing your clothes and bag, he shoved them into your hands before he grabbed one of your arms and pulled you after him. You seemed startled, but you didn't question him as you were too surprised to think of anything to say. He led you out through the backyard and down to where he had parked his car, opening the passenger side door and pushing you inside. He then walked around to the driver's side, and within moments you both were speeding out of the neighborhood.

By the time he came to the highway there was a strong smell of pool chemicals that filled the car, and both of the front seats were slowly soaking up the excess water that dripped off of the two of you.

You seemed to be in a mild state of shock, as you had yet to say anything. You just sat in your still wet swimsuit looking rather confused while you still held onto the soaked clothing Phinks had forced onto you.

After a while you shuddered and finally spoke up.

“Do you think you could turn up the heat?” you asked him.

“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”

Phinks turned the heat up all the way, and after a few moments you seemed to relax a bit, though now you were glancing over at him while smiling nervously.

“Uh, so, there's a lot that I should probably be questioning,” you began, “but I'll start with if you knew why there was yelling?”

Should he lie? No, that might be weird if he pretended not to know.

“I punched that guy in the face. I think I broke his nose,” he told you, “that was likely his friend after he saw him.”

“Ah. Okay,” you said, “that's..... Not very good, but I think I get why you did that. You're gonna get charged with assault, though.”

Fat chance.

“I'll deal with that when I come to that,” he answered, “sorry if I put you in a tough position.”

“It's okay. Well, not really. But Stu's pranks have always been pretty bad and what he did was shitty, so I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Think you can forgive me?”

“... Yeah, I think so. Just promise you won't do anything like that again.”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” you said as you nodded, “so second question: where are we going?”

“.... Not sure. Didn't have much of a plan besides getting out of there and going back to what I was doing,” Phinks admitted.

“So you're just back to driving around going wherever?”

“Seems like it.”

“Why did you bring me along?” you asked.

“.... Didn't want that to be the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Oh.....”

His answer ended up making you flustered again, and while you did seem to be holding some reservations about him with his admission of violence and the fact that he really had just kidnapped you, he could see you rationalizing everything in your mind and convincing yourself that this wasn't all that bad.

It was preferable if you did that. It made taking you with him a lot easier.

“Luckily for me I don't work tomorrow,” you said, “and since the day after that is Sunday and the campus store isn't open then, I also have that day off. So I think it's okay if I drive around with you for a bit. Just get me back by Sunday night, alright?”

“Don't worry. I'll get you back safe and sound,” he told you, and you visibly relaxed at his words.

You were a little naive, a little too trusting. But that was fine. Phinks liked that about you.

“Okay so third question,” you announced as you looked down at the wet clothes in your lap, “what should we do about this?”

“Right. Let me pull over.”

He stopped the car beneath a streetlight, and you sat sideways on the passengers seat while you held the clothes out of the car and wrung the water out of them as best you could. Phinks took the opportunity to change after you handed him his jacket, and he threw the mostly damp clothes in the backseat.

Glancing over at you, he did appreciate how much your swimsuit showed off while you tried to dry out your own clothes. But while he liked the idea of you staying as you were for the rest of the trip, you probably wouldn't be as big of a fan of that. Going over to his trunk once more, he dug around through his bag before he found what he was looking for.

“I don't have anything that will fit you well,” Phinks said as he made his way over to you, “but this should cover you up.”

What he handed you was the long white robe he wore on occasion, usually for combat or missions.

You seemed a bit surprised when you saw it, but you accepted it gratefully. Your gaze went to the jeweled eye that hung near the neck of the garment, and he heard you mumble about it being pretty.

He wondered briefly what you might think of the snake headpiece he usually wore with it, but the time for that would come later as you were currently slipping his robe over your head.

“Thank you,” you told him again as you threw your clothing in the back as well.

Then your attention went to your bag, and you frowned.

“What's wrong?”

In response to his question, you tilted your bag to the side and water began to pour out of it.

“Ah.”

“How much do you wanna bet that my phone is dead?” you asked as you reached inside.

As was expected, your phone screen stayed black when you hit the power button, and you sighed.

“And that's phone number three that Stu has destroyed.”

“Don't worry. It won't happen again,” he told you.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You tossed the now useless phone into your bag and looked back up to him as if to say “so what now?”

Phinks had an idea for that.

“Wanna go to a motel?”

“A motel? Wow, you sure know how to treat someone,” you said sarcastically.

“You really think I can get you into a nice hotel with you looking like that? You don't even have shoes,” he said.

“I didn't get a chance to grab them,” you responded, though you seemed to concede a bit.

“Could we stop somewhere tomorrow so I can get shoes or something?”

“I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe if that's what you want.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head and saying that you didn't need that.

Before too long, Phinks was back in the drivers seat while you watched the streetlights as the car passed them by, your fingers idly playing with the jewel on his robes as you did so. He had turned down the heat and turned on the radio, and though it still felt strange to be sitting in the wet seats, it wasn't bothering either of you as much anymore. The smell from the pool was mostly gone after driving a bit with the windows opened just a crack.

Except for the occasional car that drove in the opposite direction, you were the only ones on the highway.

“How far are you gonna drive?” you eventually asked.

He wanted to get out of the state at least. Phinks didn't want to deal with a confrontation with the law while also taking you along with him. He wanted to get as far as he could while you were still cooperative, and whenever you realized that there was no chance he'd be taking you back, he'd go to more extreme measures of keeping you with him. Your phone being dead was a good thing for him; you wouldn't be able to try and get help as easily.

“I think we've passed by three or four motels already,” you added, “was there something wrong with them?”

“No. Sorry. I got a bit distracted,” Phinks replied, “I've come to really like the highway at night. There's something soothing about it, I guess. Wanted to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You nodded in response and looked back out the window, your fingers still playing with the jeweled eye.

“Can I borrow your phone at some point tomorrow? I need to call someone just so everyone back home knows I'm okay. Don't want them to worry,” you said to him.

“Sure,” he said.

Arguing with you over that would seem strange. He'd just need to avoid that subject tomorrow.

He noticed when you yawned.

“Getting tired?” he asked.

“A little,” you said, laughing a little as you added, “this wasn't how I was expecting my night to go.”

“Same here.”

“I hope you decide to stop soon. I might not be up for it tonight if you're planning on continuing where we left off at the pool when we reach that motel.”

“That's fine. We'll have all day tomorrow, right?”

His words made you embarrassed again, and you shyly answered with a yes as you smiled to yourself.

So that was the plan, then. Drive as far as he could tonight, fuck your brains out tomorrow, then get away further before you figured things out. You would likely object, not liking the idea of being taken away from everything you'd ever known. But he was certain that after spending enough time with him, you'd prefer it. Your current life wasn't any good, but he was prepared for you to not understand that at first. And if he needed to tie you up and shove you into the trunk to keep you compliant, he could do that. Seemed like a pretty fool-proof plan.

You were yawning again.

“Get some sleep if you need to,” he said, “I'll wake you up when I find a place I like.”

You nodded. Soon after he saw you settling back into the seat and closing your eyes as you attempted to get some rest.

He liked the sight of you next to him, sitting in his clothes while you nodded off in his car. And when he turned his attention back to the empty highway, he was once again hit with the feeling like he was the only one in the world. A feeling that only came with seeing an area that was typically full of people seem completely abandoned.

But this time, though, he wasn't alone.

[libraryofloveletters]

Just A Phase

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: fem!reader, typical high school nonsense, kinda rude behaviour at first meet, mentions of weed/alcohol and the consumption of, typical cocky jock behaviour, few swear words, being tipsy/drunk

Category: fluff and a little angst 

Word Count: 5.4k

Author’s Note: I just started writing and this is where I ended up so yeah also I feel like I haven’t written in a million years, forgive me if this is shitty // I referred to Buck as Evan for the first little bit because he and the reader had been introduced yet. // thank you to my darling @floralbuckleys for their help!

----

Senior Year Of High School. 

 Evan Buckley, certified jock and bad boy. 

He was the type of guy that only had a soft spot for you, but you didn’t know that yet. Truthfully he wasn’t a mean guy - people just perceived him that way because he was on the football team and popular. He had somewhat of a troublesome reputation.

People knew where he went, trouble followed. 

You, on the other hand, came from a somewhat above average family. Your mom’s a nurse and dad’s a lawyer. They always had big hopes and dreams for you, for you to go off to Harvard in the fall and follow in your father’s footsteps but you didn’t want that. 

You dreamt of being a writer - you couldn't bring yourself to tell your parents that. Since you were young, they had instilled “you’re going to go to Harvard” in you. 

You couldn’t back out now. 

See, high school worked a certain way. You kept to your circles and didn’t mingle with those that didn’t fit into your circle. You and Evan didn’t run in the same circle - he was a troublesome jock and you were a smart preppy girl. 

Being the preppy kid meant volunteering where you could to bulk up your college application hence why you were at school on a Friday afternoon, waiting for the kids to show up. You were part of some tutor program that your chemistry teacher put you into. 

It was mostly just kids that needed some clarification on their work and the occasional jock that needed to pass a course to stay on the team.

You weren't surprised when a group of noisy jocks stumbled in the study hall, reeking of sweat from practice.  

You were surprised to see Evan, he hadn't been in there before. 

“Settle down boys” Mrs. Jacobs told them before sending each guy off to a tutor, leaving Evan standing beside her. “You can head over to y/n” she pointed at you, you gave him a small smile when you glanced up. He looked unpleasant, like he didn’t want to be there. 

He made his way over nonetheless. “Good afternoon” you say quietly, unsure if he heard you. He grumbles a hello as he sits down. 

The first few minutes, it was quiet. He sat there flipping through his textbook and scribbling down answers into the notebook in front of him. 

“Is there anything I can help you-” “I'm not stupid.” 

You glance at him, eyes catching his blue ones looking back at you. “I never said you were.” 

“I'm only here because I didn’t turn in my mid term project and now stupid Mr. Jefferson thinks I don't understand this shit” he explains himself. 

You hum, glancing down at the notebook in front of him, pulling it towards you. Reading over the sheet, all the answers were right. A hum of satisfaction slips pass your lips as you slide the notebook back over to him. 

“Not just another dumb jock then.” your eyes study his face after the statement. His lips curl into a small smile, a hum as he turns his attention back to his paper. 

“So prep life must be dull - no parties, all study.” 

“Who says prep kids don't party ?” 

He chuckles, “maybe the lack of prep kids at the parties.” “I’ll have you know, I party plenty, Evan.” 

Once again, he chuckles. “The phrasing of that statement shows that you clearly don’t- but call me Buck, all the guys do.” he slides the notebook over to you. 

“Check this over, I'll be back” you watched as he stepped out of the study hall and disappeared into the hallway. 

A few minutes pass by, you’re tired and in need of a nap but you blink away the tiredness to read his work. There’s a voice behind you and then you feel something heavy on your chair. Leaning back to figure out what it was, the back of your head hit something hard. You shift in your seat and look up to see your head has hit Buck’s torso. 

“How's the work, peach ?” his voice is low, the drop in octave from before causes butterflies in your stomach. 

Your brows furrow at the nickname, he noticed your confusion and glances down at your top and your eyes follow his only to see that your peach colour bra was sticking out from the top of your shirt. 

You had stretched back into your seat when he stepped out and you hadn't noticed the shift in your clothing.

Pulling the top of your shirt back up, he smiles and returns to his seat. You clear your throat, head down and eyes on the work in front of you as you could feel the blush on your face. 

“Um, the work is fine.” 

“Do you have plans tonight ?” 

“No, why?” 

“Come with me to Johnson’s party, you can show me how prep kids party” he smiles, his words are teasing you- taunting you even. “I would, but my parents are out of town so I don’t have the car and I have to watch the house.” 

“The house won’t disappear if you’re gone for a few hours and I'll pick you up then. What’s your address ?” 

“Buck, I really shouldn't” 

“Y/n, come on. Pull the stick out your ass for one night and enjoy senior year. You can go back to Harvard prep tomorrow.” 

His word choice doesn't shock you, it’s quite on brand for him. He’s looking at you, waiting for your answer and you can't help but give in.

Taking the pen from him, you scribble your address and number on his notebook. “See you at 7?” picking your bag up before slinging it over your shoulder. 

“7? Peach, the party doesn’t start ‘till 9. I’ll pick you up at 10:30.” 

“Oh um- okay.” you hum, confused but you agree anyways. 

--- 

10:45 and you were sitting on your couch, glancing at your phone and back to the window. 

You had been stood up once before but to be stood up by a jock, and a popular one ? Will be the death of any social life you had. 

Finally there’s a knock on your door and you get up a little faster than you would have liked but you make your way over. Pulling it open, you met with Buck. 

“Ready ?” 

“Sure, let me grab my phone” you leave the door open, stepping back to the couch. Buck had disappeared from the doorway when you returned, you locked up and followed what looked like headlights to the driveway. 

Buck sat on his bike, he scoots forwards a bit before patting the space behind him. 

“No.” you mumble. 

“What ?” 

“I’m not getting on that thing.” 

“That thing ? I'm offended. Come on, you’ll be fine.” 

“Evan, no.” 

Buck gets up, making his way over to you. His hands grab yours, looking at you now. “Y/n, I promise you that you’ll be fine. Can we go now ?” 

“I’ll kill you if something happens to you” you grumbled as you reluctantly made your way over to the bike. Buck gets on first, you mirror his actions. Your hands were to your side, Buck reached back and wrapped them around his waist. 

“You good back there ?” 

“As good as I could be.”

-- 

The house, who you assumed belonged to Johnson’s parents, (you had no idea who Johnson was because you barely ever went to the football games) reeked of alcohol and weed. 

Your face didn’t hide your displeasure as well as you thought it had. Buck chuckled as he slung his arm over your shoulder. 

“So is this what you do ?” you shout over the loud music, Buck was saying hello to someone he knew and wasn't paying attention to what you had asked him. 

You manage to wiggle your way out of his grip and find your way to the kitchen. It’s a few minutes later that Buck finds you sipping on a beer. 

“You drink ?” he gives you a questionable look with a smile on his face. 

“You brought me to a party so I'll do what people do at a party” you hum, leaning back against the counter. He finds his way to you, leaning back against the counter too. 

“Enjoying the party ?” 

“Not really, you kinda left me to talk to some guy for twenty minutes” 

“That guy happens to be our star quarterback.” 

“I care why?” you glance up at him. Buck’s face is pure amusement, you aren't sure if you’re the cause of that or something else but the way he's looking at you- you can feel the butterflies again. 

“Buck!” a group of guys shout as they make their way into the kitchen. They all say hello to him, some are drinking, some are shoving chips into their mouths. 

You stay quiet while Buck talks to them and judging by their varsity jackets, it was safe to assume that they were on the team with Buck. 

“Who’s your friend ?” a brunette guy asks him, stepping towards you. 

“I’m y/n, you are?” you ask before Buck could. 

“Mike, call me Johnson.” 

“Oh, so this is your place ? Cute house” you give him a smile, he laughs. 

“How do you know Buck?” Johnson asks, he was nosy for a drunk guy. 

“Just bumped into each other, we have class together” you lie, not sure if Buck wanted them to know how you really met, Buck gives you a small smile. 

“You’re pretty, how about a dance ?” his hand grabs yours. 

“Thanks but no thanks” you give a polite smile before pulling your hand away. 

Johnson takes a step forward, his hand reaching out and grabbing your hip. “C’mon, dance with me” you could smell the alcohol on him- he reeked. You push his hand off, “I said no thank you” you tell him once more, being ever so polite. 

“Y/n, c’mon, one dance baby” he takes another step, he’s now face to face with you. Before you could say anything, Buck is in front of you, between you and Johnson. 

“Dude, she said no. Leave her alone.” 

Buck’s sudden need to protect you was much appreciated. Usually if a guy did that, especially a jock, you’d be weird out because they never pay attention to you- but Buck, you had this indescribable feeling, pride, satisfaction, maybe even relief ? 

“She’s not even your girl, why are you protecting her?” 

“Doesn’t matter, she said no so get out of her fucking face.” Buck’s hand was against his chest, pushing him away as his other hand reached back for yours. It would be cheesy to say that your hand fit in his like it was made to be there but it was true. 

Buck’s hand was still in yours as he pulled you out the back door. Your back was up against the wall as he stood in front of you. 

“Are you okay ?” you could hear the concern in his voice - different from his usual tone. 

At a loss for words, his eyes study your face. Johnson was a douche and he knew that, he mentally cursed himself for even bringing you here. 

“Y/n.. talk to me” he takes a step towards you. 

“Buck,” your hand presses against his chest, “I'm fine. It’s not the first time a drunk guy has hit on me” 

A breath of relief slipped past his lips, “do you want to leave?” his face softens when he asks. “No, I'm alright.” 

“Stay here, I'll be back” his hand comes down and squeezes your waist gently before he steps back into the house. 

--

It was a while before Buck returned. He had disappeared into the house for half an hour and when he returned, you were by the pool with a pingpong ball in hand. 

“Suck it!” your loud laugh filled his ears, you took a sip from the red cup in your hand and you watched as the guy across from you drank the beer in the cup that the ball landed in. 

“Looks like you’re having fun” Buck smiles, now beside you. 

“Hey!” you reeked of beer at this point. “I’m having fun” your words come out in a slurred mumble. 

“Mhm okay, I think it’s time to head home” Buck takes the cup from you and sets it down. 

“What ?” Your hand reaches for the cup again, a pout evident on your face.

Buck’s hands finds your waist, hoisting you up and over his shoulder. A louder than expected gasp left your mouth, you felt the cold breeze against your legs as he walked towards the front of the yard. 

He put you down in the backseat of a car but you knew you came with his bike so you were confused, just as you go to ask, he scoots you over and gets in the back with you. Buck’s arm is over your shoulder, you’re so tired that you just lean into him. 

-- 

You had noticed you fell asleep and when you woke, you were on the porch swing at your house with Buck’s hand in your pocket. 

“Whatcha looking for?” he glances up at you when he hears your voice. 

“Keys.” 

“Other pocket” 

He manages to find the keys and get the door open. Getting you in the house was another story. “Y/n, come on” he pulls your hands in an attempt to get you up but you weren’t budging. 

What happened to you being a prep kid and not drinking ? He didn’t even think it was possible to get drunk that fast. 

“No, tired” you mumbles, making yourself comfortable on the porch swing. “Do you want your parents to come home and find you here? I’m cool with leaving you here if that’s the case” Buck teased, he had no idea when your parents were coming home. 

The mention of your parents finding you outside, drunk, horrified you. You got up so quick, you nearly toppled over. Buck helped you inside and onto the couch. He disappeared for a moment and then returned with a glass of water. 

“Small sips” he settles beside you, watching as you take a sip. You hum, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm comes over your shoulder. 

“Buck?” 

“Yeah?” 

He felt your head shift, now looking up at him, eyes full of sleep. You were studying his face, from the birthmark above his eye to his pink lips.

“I really like you, you know” your words filled with sleep as your eyes drooped, you blinked a few times, forcing yourself to stay awake.

Buck chuckles, “that’ll pass peach, I’m just a phase.” He hummed quietly, fingers running through your hair as you drift to sleep. 

--

The Monday after the party, you saw Buck in the hallway after waking up to an empty house on the couch, head pounding even in the deafening silence and and you can’t quite remember how you got home. 

Buck had been radio silence since then but you weren't sure why. He was walking in from the front doors and you were by your locker. You turn to speak to him but he barely glances at you before continuing his conversation with Johnson. 

From that day, you never spoke to Buck again. Last you saw him was graduation day and last you had heard was that he was in college and you were headed off to Harvard. 

----

Present.

You had become a big shot lawyer, everything your parents wanted. Moved out to LA to start your own firm and everything was going well until this morning. 

You had barely walked into the office when the fire alarm went off. The sudden alarm caused an onset of commotion in the office, the woman next to you bumped into you, spilling your hot cup of coffee onto you. 

She mumbled a sorry as she passed but you could feel the heat coming from where the liquid had spilt. Nonetheless, you made your way out, the sound of the sirens from fire trucks blaring. 

Not that you didn’t enjoy seeing the handsome firefighters (or so your co-workers seem to say) but you had a ton of paperwork to do for an upcoming case you had and you barely started. 

You stood by the curb, watching as the firefighters made their way over to the crowd and into the building to clear it. 

“Ma'am ?” A firefighter made his way over to you, there was a helmet in his hand as he passed a hand through his hair. You glance up from your phone, to see what he wanted. 

“May I take a look?” his eyes shifted to your chest where there is currently a coffee stain on your white shirt. “Oh, thank you but no. I’m fine” 

“Are you sure? Because that’ll leave a pretty nasty mark if you don't get it cleaned. If you aren’t comfortable, we have a female medic” he offered, hoping you’d consider. 

“You’re a medic ?” you asked, looking him up and down. He nods, taking a step back. He begins walking back to the ambulance and you follow him. “Do you want me to get her?” 

“No, you’re a professional, it’s cool” you give him a small smile before moving your shirt so he could check. 

The firefighter’s hand was now right under your collarbone, dabbing at your skin with some gauze. His fingers were cold, you weren’t sure if it was actually his fingers or the gloves that were cold but either way you looked at him. 

“What’s your name ?” 

“Diaz, Eddie Diaz” he tells you, flashing you a smile before going back to his job. 

You hum, staying still as Eddie rubs something on your skin. 

That’s when you saw him. 

The same blue eyes, the same blonde hair, the same gorgeous smile that always played in your mind. Not a day went by that you didn’t think of him. You had always wondered what he ended up doing, he was smart and destined for great things, there was more for him than a small life in a place where no one ever really did anything. 

Every guy you had dated, you compared to him. It was always something- they didn’t look like him, they didn’t act like him, they didn’t treat you the way he did, they wouldn't stand up for you like he did. 

He lived rent free in your mind. 

“Ma'am?” Eddie’s voice broke your gaze. “Y/n,” you corrected him, “ma’am is for old women” your eyes going back to Buck. Eddie noticed your lack of attention and followed your gaze. 

“Do you know Buck?” 

“He still lets people call him that ?” you chuckle to yourself, feeling Eddie’s eyes burning a hole into you. 

Before you could answer, his radio buzzed before a voice came through, “building’s clear. Start directing people back in.” Eddie looks over at you, you’re already getting out of the ambulance. 

“Keep that clean and dry” were his last words to you after you left. 

--- 

It wasn’t until you were back in the building that you realized your phone was in the ambulance. 

You were majorly screwed. 

Remembering the medic’s name which was the only thing you remember mids the confusion and seeing Buck after 10+ years. You asked around the office if anyone knew what station responded to the call. You had contacts that worked for the city but the lack of phone made it hard for you to call and find out. 

Finally giving in, you google the medic’s name. There were a few articles that had photos but none of them said anything that helped. There was a video from Taylor Kelly at channel 8 news, some sort of video about the fire station. 

Station 118- that was 10 minutes down the road and you pass it everyday on the way to work. The thoughts began filling your head, had Buck been there all along? 

12 years- 12 long, empty years that you acted like he didn’t exist and that you didn’t want to know what happened between you two but he was right down the road. 

You didn’t even know if you wanted to talk to him. You had finally come to peace with it even though a part of you will always long for what could have been. Feelings aside, you set out to the station to get your phone. 

Upon arriving, there were a few guys by the trucks. You asked for Eddie, assuming that he might have an idea of where your phone ended up or if they even found it. 

“Up the stairs and he should be somewhere up there” the guy pointed, you thanked him before heading towards the stairs. When you got upstairs, it was empty. 

You weren't sure if you should go back down or wait so you sort of awkwardly stood there, glancing around the room. The station was nicer than you had imagined it to be, not that you really had an idea of what to expect. 

Your back was to the kitchen when someone tapped your shoulder. “Can I help you?” his voice called out as you turned. 

Buck. 

You let out a breath, your eyes studying his perfect face for a moment. Do you say something or just pretend like you didn’t know him?

“Yeah, I'm uh- I'm looking for Eddie. I think I left my phone in the ambulance.” 

“Do I know you from somewhere ?” 

“I work at the building down the road, 14th street. You guys were there earlier, hence the phone in the ambulance” you tell him, hoping he drops the topic. 

“Y/n! Hey! What are you doing here?” You see Eddie call from behind Buck. 

Thank god. 

“I left my phone in the ambulance. I figured you’d know what happened to it” you’ve stepped past Buck and towards Eddie now. “I haven’t seen it, but maybe it’s still in there. Come with me, we can check for it” 

Eddie was making his way down the stairs and you were behind him when Buck called your name. 

Not y/n. 

Peach. 

You paused, taking a deep breath in before turning to face him. “I thought I remembered you from somewhere” he smiled, him and his stupid smile. 

“I’m in a rush, Evan. Plus, I'm not in the mood to reminisce.” 

The smile dropped from his face, the guilt crept up on you. The feeling of your stomach twisting, sighing before making your way down to Eddie who was by the ambulance, your phone in hand. 

“There’s more to the story than I thought,” Eddie hands the phone over, you give him a hum and thank him. “Let me walk you out.” he follows you out to your car. 

“You know, whatever he did- he’s changed. He’s a good guy.” Eddie says, his voice sincere. 

“I know, I just- I don't know” 

“What did he do? If I can ask” 

“We were- I don't know what we were. We hung out in high school, just once but he was different from the other guys. He genuinely cared. We went to a party together and he brought me home after. I remember falling asleep with him in the house and the next morning he was gone. Total radio silence that whole weekend and when I saw him at school the following week, he acted like he didn’t know me - it was like that for the rest of senior year. We never spoke after that.” 

Here you were pouring your heart out to a firefighter who you had only met an hour ago who also had seen your bare chest (in a professional way, of course)  on a Tuesday morning in the parking lot. 

“Wow- I can see why you wouldn’t want to talk to him.”

“Yeah, thank you for the phone though. I gotta get back to work” 

“Wait, let me get your number” 

You pause, looking at him with furrowed brows. He seemed confused then he realized how that sounded. “Oh god- no not like that, sorry. I meant maybe we could grab a drink sometimes, as friends and maybe you could tell me more about high school Buck ?” 

“Um- yes to the number and drinks but I don’t know about Buck” you hand the phone back over to him, telling him that you’d text him. 

--- 

It was a while before you heard from Eddie, he said he was off on Saturday if you were up for drinks and weren't busy. The whole team was going out but he invited you along to join them. 

After some back and forth “I couldn't intrude” and “you won’t be, come join us” you finally gave in. 

Now it’s 9pm and you, Eddie and Buck are sitting at a booth. Coincidentally, everyone else was busy. Chimney and Hen who you hadn’t met yet, were with their significant others and kids. So that left the 3 of you together. 

You wanted to walk back out when you saw it was only the two of them but Eddie had seen you and called you over. His phone buzzed just as Buck came back with drinks. 

“Everything okay?” Buck asked his friend, Eddie, still typing away on his phone. “Huh? Yeah, it’s Carla. Chris is running a fever” you could hear the concern in his voice. 

“Chris is your son?” 

“Yeah- I'm sorry I got to go. I’ll make it up to you. Drinks on me another night” Eddie gave your shoulder a squeeze as he stood. 

“No yeah, of course. Go, it’s fine” you smiled. 

“Let me know if you need anything” Buck shifts towards Eddie, the two of them seem to have some sort of routine or way of how things work between them.  

And now there were two. 

Buck sipped on his beer, you sat across from him, your nails tapping against the bottle in front of you. He was the first one to speak.

“So, how have you been?”

“Good. You?”

“Good too. I don’t know if you remember my sister but she had a baby recently so I've been hanging out with her after work”

“Oh, that’s nice. Maddie right?”

“Yeah, she had a little girl. She’s the cutest little girl ever.” Buck pulls his phone out, showing you a photo of him holding a baby in a blanket with a brunette beside him. The woman beside him, Maddie you assumed, was smiling at Buck, fixing the blanket while he looked at the camera, the joy evident on his face.

“She’s adorable and your sister looks the same, she hasn’t aged a day” you hum, passing the phone over to him.

Back to awkward silence.

“What happened to us?” Buck’s question catches you off guard.

“What happened to us? You happened.”

“What? I thought we were friends.” Your eyes met, his full of confusion and yours with displeasure.

“Friends don’t disappear in the middle of the night with no explanation and ignore them for the rest of senior year.” You get up, grab your phone and make your way to the door. Buck’s calling out to you but you don’t want to stop and talk to him.

The night was cold, the wind hit your bare shoulders and you shivered for a moment before walking. Buck was still calling out your name, he had followed you out the bar.

“Y/n! Stop! Y/n, c’mon. Please!” His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. You pull your hand back.

“No! You don’t get to do that. Act like everything is fine when you disappeared with no explanation. I know we weren’t best friends but I thought we were at least friends. That fucking hurt, Evan.”

“Fine,” he sighs, looking at you. “You want the truth ?” Your brows raised, waiting for him to continue.

“You told me you liked me. You were a good kid, going to Harvard, which you obviously did” gesturing at you, he continued. “I didn’t know what I wanted and I didn’t want you to feel like you needed to be by my side until I figured it out. I knew you would resent me for that and I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t do it to myself.”

“That’s selfish. It’s about you ? That’s why you left with no explanation ? You couldn’t do it to yourself ? Man the fuck up Buck, life isn’t about you.” 

“You think I don’t know that ?! You think I didn’t think about you all the time? That I didn’t miss you?” 

“Don’t start with that shit. You knew where I would be. You said it yourself, I was “a good kid, going to Harvard” so if you really missed me, you could have found me.” 

“Y/n, be real. We were just out of high school, what means did I have to go searching for you? I had my own shit to deal with.” 

“Just stop, I don’t even want to know.” 

“No, you stop” 

“No you.” 

“Y/n” his voice was stern, the annoyance clearly there. 

“Evan.” your tone matched his.

That stupid smug smile of his was on his face, that was enough to make you roll your eyes. “’Kay, I'm over your shit.” turning away from him, you go to walk away but his hand grabs yours. 

Still fit like it was made to be there. 

Before you could register what was happening, Buck’s lips were on yours. Maybe time stopped when Buck’s lips met yours but your heart didn’t- it felt like it was beating a million times seconds and the butterflies in your stomach were restless. 

It wasn't clear to either of you at the moment that it had started pouring rain but it didn’t matter. There was this raw emotion in the way his hands felt on your waist or how his chest was pressed to yours. 

Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t open his eyes slightly, sneaking a guilty peek at you just to make sure you weren’t a fiction of his imagination. Every breath he took smelt of lavender and honey, the same scent that had lingered on his mind since the day he met you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible. 

Maybe this was meant to be, fate bringing back what was meant for him to him or maybe this really was all a fabrication of his imagination but he wanted to live in his moment forever. 

It wasn't until thunder rumbled that he pulled away. The rain had soaked your clothes and hair, your makeup had smudged and half of your lipstick was on Buck. 

The same stupid smug smile on his face.

“God,” rolling your eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.” wiping your lips with the back on your hand, hoping that you got all the lipstick off. 

“Yeah, I'm the annoying one” Buck’s face twisted, giving you a playful shove as you stepped towards him. Your thumb comes up to wipe the lipstick off him. Buck’s arm lifts, now over your shoulder. 

The two of you looked at each other as you made your way down the street. 

“Just a phase huh ?” you hum, glancing at Buck. 

The blonde let out a chuckle, “maybe not.” 

--- 

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[thefanficmonster]

Casual

Ranboo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None, unless talking about the future counts

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following the arrival of the dreadful invitation to his cousin’s wedding Ranboo turns to the only cover-up he can think of to keep his still-single status hidden from his family.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so glad you sent your idea to me and I’m so glad you were my first official Ranboo request. I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to write it but I still hope you’ll come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Heyyy, so Y/N, I have a favor to ask you...um yeah, call me back, it’s awkward sending it via voicemail. Bye“

Huh - that’s the first thought that goes through my head when I listen to the voicemail left after a missed call from my best friend Ranboo. The favors he usually asks for consist of requesting assistance for his videos in which I also appear with a mask and sunglasses to keep the brand running. I genuinely have nothing against my face being shown but when I think about it, I’m honestly a bit glad people can’t identify me.

Anyways, back to the favors, Ranboo is no stranger to asking me for them but they’ve never been considered too awkward for a voicemail which is why I’m no slightly concerned. I’ve been swamped with work for school and studies for the graduation finals for the past two weeks and it seems like I’ll never get on top of it and I know Ranboo’s been in a similar situation too, so maybe he needs help with that? He’s not used to asking help for school stuff, he sometimes even has a hard time accepting it when I openly offer it to him.

I eventually sigh, decide that playing this guessing game will not get me anywhere and settle on giving him a call as I make my way home from the gym with my legs barely putting up with the task of carrying me around.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey! Wh-...“

“Would you pretend to be my girlfriend for my cousin’s wedding next weekend?!“

My legs take that opportunity to stop moving in the middle of the sidewalk which is luckily void of any people at the moment. It’s not my fault my body’s first reaction was to freeze up at the question that came flying at me like an out-of-control jet, almost as though he’s been dying to say it and get it over with.

“Um...run that by me again please, I think I misunderstood.“ I say, blinking blankly as though awoken from a fever dream. No, actually as though I’m IN a fever dream right now.

“Ok, now that the cat’s out of the bag, wanna grab some coffee and talk about it face-to-face. I need to see your facial expressions to gauge what response to expect.“ He says, the previous nervousness gone and his voice calm as regularly once again.

I’m this close to face-palming but I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and bring myself to utter a reply, “Our usual spot. Be there in ten minutes.”

                                                             *  *  *

“No freaking way.“ I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest as I lean back in my seat in the booth we picked when we arrived. Good thing I got an iced coffee cause even a hot one would’ve gone cold by now considering I haven’t yet taken the time to have even a sip of it. I’ve been too busy listening to the long and short of the explanation and begging speech Ranboo probably made last night to try and convince me to agree to this nonsense. “Dude, we’ve been friends since middle school-...“

“Exactly! Who else was I gonna ask?“ He cuts me off, pleading gaze meeting my unimpressed one.

I huff before continuing my previous statement, “We’ve been friends since middle school so you know my opinion on weddings.” I put extra emphasis on the word ‘opinion’, giving him the clear hint at the distaste I’ve expressed on the topic multiple times before.

“And you know we’re on the same page there but there’s no way I can avoid going unless someone kidnaps me.“ He too now gets in the same stance as me, his coffee forgotten too.

I can’t help but snort out a little laugh, “I’d be more than happy to kidnap you considering the other option is far less appealing to me.“

He, of course, rolls his eyes at me as though he didn’t offer to do the same thing so I could avoid an exam but anyways. “So you’re gonna choose to fake a kidnapping that has the potential of landing you in jail over coming to eat some great food and maybe even have some fun at a wedding with your best friend? I’m hurt.“ He says, frowning to cover up the smile that’s fighting its way onto his face.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, “I’d be kidnapping you, dummy...” I cut myself off to let out a long sigh and calm down before I go off at him. His smirk isn’t helping me much with the task either. I’ve known Ranboo long enough to know he’ll eventually convince me and he’s known me long enough to know how to do that exactly. With that in mind, there’s really no point in getting so worked up and wasting my energy. And so, despite my own rationality, I cave. “Fine, but I’m not staying the whole wedding.“

His eyes immediately light up and almost makes me feel the compromise was worth it. Almost. I mean, when you’ve been best friends with someone for so long, seeing them happy is worth more to you than your own comfort sometimes.

And he knows it too. Which is exactly why he outstretches his hand for me to shake and says: “Just one dance and you’re free to go. Deal?”

I take his hand without hesitations. That’s a better offer than I could’ve ever imagined. “Damn straight it’s a deal.“

                                                            *  *  *

“How long until you kick the heels off?“ Ranboo asks, bringing me a non-alcoholic cocktail and sitting down next to me.

I take a sip and giggle, “You kidding? I already kicked them off and replaced them with flats. I need mobility if we dance. They also lower the risk of me severing off a toe of yours if I step on you on accident.”

He laughs, clinking his glass against mine before he gets a bit more serious, “By the way, thanks for handling my family’s attack so well. I know it might’ve been a bit much but you handled it like a pro. Still, I’m sorry on their behalf.”

I shake my head and wave my hand dismissively, “Don’t mention it. I’d probably react the same way if my brother or cousin brought a date to an important family event like this.” I instinctively turn to look in the direction of where the majority of his family has gathered around, chatting with guests, smiling brightly. It’s hard not to immediately take a liking towards these people. They’ve been a second family to me ever since Ranboo and I started hanging out so I completely understand why they were so shocked to see me in the role of his ‘girlfriend’.

“I’ll tell my parents the truth later, our extended family is the ones I wanted to fool to be perfectly honest.“ He looks around as do I and we catch more than a few pairs of eyes fixated on us that turn away when they realize they’ve been spotted, “Mission accomplished by the looks of it.“

I chuckle. I’ve never felt so comfortable at a wedding before. I don’t feel stressed nor anxious despite knowing that there’s quite the number of eyes on me and there are whispers going around about my ‘relationship’ with Ranboo. It’s oddly calming and relaxing to be surrounded by some familiar and some unfamiliar faces. This cocktail is pretty great too.

Speaking of which, if it had any alcohol in it I’d blame it for the decision I’m about to make but this one’s entirely on me: I tap Ranboo with one hand while taking out my phone with the other. “If we’re already the talk of the wedding, let’s give them something to talk about.“ I say as I put up my phone, pretending to be taking a selfie leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

When I pull away I can clearly see that he’s still processing what just happened. I can’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter as I reach out to wipe the lipstick stain I left on his cheek. He looks like a lost, clueless puppy with the question: ‘what on Earth just happened???’ replaying in his head and it’s so freaking cute!

Wait....what was that? Since when do I use the adjective cute to describe Ranboo? Didn’t I think he looks handsome in a suit earlier too? The hell is with me today?

Then it hits me - the feeling isn’t foreign. Like, I know I’ve felt it before but I never analyzed it or even bothered to acknowledge it. But now that I do, I’m afraid of what it might be.

“There!“ I say, desperately trying to push the thoughts away along with this little firework show in my stomach, “Now you have pinker cheeks. Well, cheek, singular.“

As if snapping out of his state of confusion, he returns to Earth with a smirk, “Kiss the other to even it?”

Alright, his blush might not be even but mine now is and it’s ten times as intense and very much apparent but I don’t let the feeling shine through anything else as I proceed to actually kiss his other cheek too, wiping the lipstick stain.

“Thanks. You’re the best.” And just like that, as though it’s no big deal, he kisses my forehead.

See, that’s the thing, it shouldn’t be a big deal! It’s never been! This is far from the first time I’ve kissed him on the cheek or the first time he’s given me a forehead kiss. These are regular occurrences after years of this lovely friendship we have. Why do they feel so different now?

Then, much to my relief, the music starts and the lights turn off leaving only one spotlight for the groom and bride to have their first dance. They look absolutely astonishing and I can certainly say I’ve never before stopped to think that about any newly weds of the weddings I’ve preciously been to. I don’t know if it has something to do with the company I have for this particular wedding or it’s maybe the fact that my mindset’s changed over the years without me realizing.

Then I automatically look at Ranboo who just so happens to be looking at me too and all I can say is: my mindset hasn’t changed.

A loud applause takes over when the couple finish their dance, officially opening the dancefloor for any other pairs who’d like to occupy it and I’m happy to see how many people are eager to rush up with their partner.

 Ranboo gets up, putting the glass down and offers me his hand, “So, wanna dance? Don’t take this as a sign to leave though, we said one dance and you CAN leave, not SHOULD.” He says, giving me a warning look.

I roll my eyes and am about to give him some sass right back but he takes my hand and picks me up from my seat, leading me to the dancefloor.  And I gotta admit maybe it’s a good thing he did. If he left it to me I would’ve probably said no to the dance and ran the hell away. Why? - Cause I’m freaking terrified of this new mindset and point of view and these intense emotions I never used to pay any mind to before in regards to my best friend.

Friends don’t feel that way about friends. Friends don’t look at friends that way. What’s happening to me?

When I gotta look him in the eyes like this, not for the first time might I add, I can finally understand how the friends-to-lovers trope works: it’s all meaningless until it starts to mean so much to you. It’s all platonic until it reminds you of a romantic movie moment. It ‘best friends’ until it’s ‘I wish we were more than that’. It’s all casual, until it’s not.

And, unfortunately, it’s irreversible.

Damn do I wish I ran away now...