#oh! question mark by barrel bc

[suashii]

i have this very specific and sexy image of boothill licking the barrel (?) of his gun and, you guessed it, it’s driving me insane!

[chelseeebe]

and they said, speak now

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of cheating. femreader!xeddie. no use of y/n!

a little second chance romance story wherein eddie is invited to your wedding, though he’s hopeful that it’ll never actually happen.

a/n: wanted to get this finished so i could start writing a follow up for too sweet (bc i love it and i love mean asshole eddie) so i hope it bridges some sort of gap while i write :p switches pov a lil bit but it’s all marked out 4 ya.

“-gettin’ married to who?” eddie spits, barreling into the living room with a mouthful of cereal.

steve looks up from the paper invite and shrugs, “mark?” mouthing a quiet i don’t know as robin looks between the two.

“and i’m invited?”

“i mean.. it says all of us so..” he looks up at eddie, “do you even want to go?” dubious at eddie’s overly keen questioning.

eddie’s bewildered that he’d even ask, “‘course we’re fucking going,” shaking his head, still gripping onto his bowl of cereal, “i didn’t even know she was datin’ anybody else.. what the fuck.”

robin shares a look with her best friend, thinking eddie hasn’t seen. he knows exactly what they’re not saying. it doesn’t exactly need to be spelled out for him.

perhaps eddie hadn’t ever really gotten over it. it being you leaving to new york for college, breaking up with him in the process.

maybe they were justified in their judgemental glances, it’d been years since you’d left. he should be over it by now. evidently, you’ve moved on. why hadn’t he?

but he wasn’t and now he’s not sure if he’ll ever be.

-

the five of them shovel into jonathan’s car, robin squished between eddie and steve in the back with their bags piled high in the trunk.

eddie stares out of the window, he had started to regret agreeing to go. his ex-girlfriend, whom he wasn’t exactly over, was getting married to some fuckhead he’d never met and now he had to go and wear a suit and pretend to be happy about it all.

“i still can’t believe she’s getting fucking married,” he grumbles into his fist.

robin grins, nudging her elbow into steve’s ribcage, “oh this going to be so much fun,” elated at his misery.

jonathan sighs quietly, throwing his head back against the seat and slyly turning the volume up so as to not hear any more of eddie’s whining.

there’d been months of it, so he’s not surprised.

-

eddie is fucking elated to reach the hotel, gawping at the grand exterior as they get out of the car, stretching their legs after the long trip.

“jeez,” robin utters, staring at the tall building with her mouth hung open, “at least she’s marrying rich, hey?” wiggling her brows at eddie’s less than excited face.

he doesn’t rise to it, ignoring her obvious attempts to get him riled up.

it’s even nicer inside, gold plated ornaments decorate the walls, outdated paintings of old people he didn’t care to know, joining them.

they’re in the process of checking in when a familiar voice comes from behind, a small, meek, “hey guys!”

it’s you.

they spin, sharing tired smiles as you stand looking horrifically awkward. like somehow you hadn’t shared years and years of history with every single person here.

everyone else gets a short, half hug, exchanging niceties while eddie waits patiently for his turn. he doesn’t think you’ll even acknowledge him.

but your eyes lock, that same sinking feeling that he felt all those years ago as he watched your car pull out of hawkins plagues his stomach.

“hey,” you nod, tense as you open your arms for a hug.

it’s more than he’d ever expected, now finding himself stuck, unable to embrace the situation. you’re exactly the same and yet he feels like he doesn’t recognise you. barely touched by the graces of age, still the same girl he was sure he still loved.

eventually he pulls himself together, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in.

fuck.

you even smell the same. the heavy vanilla scent of your shampoo wafts through the air, transporting him back in time to nights shared in his cramped room, talking about the future together and how you couldn’t wait to get out of hawkins.

it’s utterly ironic, and not to mention heartbreaking, to think about now.

“hi,” eddie musters, sounding as pathetic as he felt.

the others watch on in anticipation, expecting a screaming match only to be met with whatever the fuck this was. dancing around each other like two complete strangers.

“how.. uh, how was the drive?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers, the way you used to when you were nervous.

“long,” he smiles meekly.

there’s too much he wants to say, desperately wanting to just shake you and ask what the hell you’re doing getting married to someone who’s not him.

besides, four sets of eyes watch both of you eagerly, hoping for an argument or maybe the exact opposite.

“there you are!” a gruff voice bellows, coming out of the mouth of the most insufferable looking man eddie’s ever seen.

he walks over with his shit-eating grin, taking you away from eddie’s grasp, leaving an aching in his fingertips.

your brows shoot upward, sighing softly, “everyone, this is mark.. mark, these are my..” your eyes dip, unable to meet eddie’s gaze, “friends.”

mark’s hand extends towards eddie, grinning like a complete fool as he shakes it. “nice to meet you man! heard so much about you,” his grip tight, squeezing the tired bones in his hand.

eddie wonders if he’s asserting his dominance, if you’d told him who exactly he was. about all those years you spent as his girlfriend. about how he used to make you cum in two minutes. or perhaps all the times you swore that if you had to get married, it’d be to him.

eddie doesn’t count on it.

-

eddie waits. and he waits. and he waits.

pacing the floor of his room, contemplating if he truly had the nerve to stalk the halls to your room or if he’d have to sit here and regret it forever.

fuck it, he thinks. there’s no guarantee he’ll even knock on the door, he just needs to get out of here and at least try to.

eddie’s acutely aware that nothing he says to you will change your mind in fact, he thinks you’ll more than likely slam the door in his face.

but he’s gotta try.

- reader’s pov -

it’s a quiet knock, barely audible as you toss and turn.

you debate even answering, too caught up in your nerves to care about some bridesmaid complaining about her dress or your mother prattling on about the floral arrangements again.

but then they knock again, louder this time though it sounds more unsure, a hesitant wrap of the knuckles, pulling yourself from the comfort of your blanket to see what they wanted.

you hardly register who the person is before immediately wanting to slam the door in his face.

“what are you doing?” you hiss through the small gap in the door, noting that it was somewhere between 11 and midnight.

“i wanna talk,” eddie frowns, carefully wedging his foot between the door, as if you wouldn’t immediately notice.

“we don’t need to talk,” you refute, scowling at your batshit crazy ex.

he sighs, looking around the empty corridor, knowing he shouldn’t be here right now. “can we.. i just wanna talk.. that’s it,” his eyes wide and begging.

you take pity on him, you always did when he had that pathetic frown on his face. like a dejected puppy that needed you to cradle him.

something in your head screams out to just close the door, it’s a terrible idea and you know it.

alas, you pull it open a few more inches, giving him the chance to slide inside before it’s shut again, turning the lock immediately.

if anyone were to walk in, your relationship would be ruined, tomorrow would just be a waste of money and you’d be a social pariah in your circles.

“why didn’t you tell me that you were getting married?”

the nerve to ask that question like he deserved an explanation. you haven’t even seen the man in years and yet, he feels as if he’s owed something from you.

“i didn’t know i had to,” you shrug, standing a few feet away from him, hoping to keep the distance.

eddie scowls, brows knitted into a line across his forehead, “you don’t- i thought we were friends.. friends tell each other those things.”

“you haven’t seen me in years eddie!” raising your voice despite being surrounded by your friends and family. “what gives you the right to march in here and ask me that?” stepping closer with every word, taken aback by his sheer nerve.

his eyes harden, jaw tense, “you left me- you did that and then the next time i hear from you, it’s because you’re getting married? s’that not completely fucked up to you too?”

“i didn’t leave you! i went to college, like people our age are supposed to! it’s not my fault that you’d rather sit in jeff’s basement pretending to be a rockstar,” snarling your upper lip, hoping you’ll hit him right where it hurts.

if nothing else, it’s frustrating. eddie was always talking about his big dreams and how he was going to get out of hawkins once and for all, make something of himself and never look back.

but you got tired of waiting for that to happen. years and years of soon and i’m not ready’s had left you pretty hopeless for any kind of future with him.

he shakes his head, scoffing, “oh? so should i have followed you to new york? watched you change everything about yourself for some asshole?”

there’s a lump in your throat now and weirdly, not a speck of anger. at least not about his words for your fiancé. more so about his complete disregard of your feelings, the dreams you put on hold for him.

“i didn’t.. i didn’t change,” bottom lip trembling, “this is me eddie,” nostrils flaring as you skulk closer, “you just don’t know me anymore.”

“i know you better than he does,” he fires back, adams apple bobbing in his throat. a sincere, honest tone.

it only makes you more frustrated, the audacity to come here and act like this, the day before your wedding.

you laugh in his face, a maniacal cackle, “you’re deluded,” gathering all of your strength not to punch him in the face, “you should leave, before you embarrass yourself any more.”

he’s almost frantic now, grasping the air, “i’m not the one embarrassing myself here. the you i know would never want this.. what happened to that girl who promised to marry me? where’s she?”

“people change eddie! you clearly haven’t!” you hiss, prodding your finger into his chest, hoping you’ll somehow set him alight with your fingertip.

he grabs your hand, keeping it close to his heart as his frown sets in. “tell me- tell me that this is what you want, the big wedding and fucking mark and a coupl’a kids, tell me and i’ll leave,” downturned eyes, begging himself not to cry.

you want to scream, ferociously snatching your hand away from him before you turn away. sick to death of looking into his glossy chestnut eyes. loathing the feeling of your past flooding back into your brain.

a few years ago, you would’ve been certain that eddie was the one you were going to marry. marriage wasn’t something you were ever particularly interested in, your parents hadn’t been the best example. but if it had happened, it would’ve been nothing like this, maybe in the tiny chapel in hawkins, a couple years from now, a small, private ceremony with your friends and family. you’d be lying if you said you had never thought about it.

about what could’ve been.

somewhere, buried deep inside, you longed for it.

eddie doesn’t budge, hearing the sounds of his heavy breathing from behind. you can picture that stupid look on his face, pathetic and sullen as he waits for a fleck of hope.

you turn back, praying that you’ll have somehow found the strength to tell him to leave in the two seconds it takes to face him.

it doesn’t come, the lump in your throat dissipating only to be replaced with a fiery pit in your stomach.

and then a moment, where neither of you have the guts to speak any longer, in what feels like the most intense battle of eye contact you’d ever been a part of.

but it’s over as quickly as it started, both of you lurching forward at the same time, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss, finding the side of his head for leverage as his antsy hands grip your waist.

the rest is just a silent routine, one you two have been through a hundred times before.

your back crashes into the desk, pressed into the wood by his torso. a hand squeezing your thigh as you’re helped onto the surface.

the metal on your fourth finger aches, as if some higher power is attempting to intervene, to stop this mistake before it goes too far.

it’s dutifully ignored, spreading your legs to allow him between your soft thighs. the thin material of your shorts meant that you could feel everything. his cock jumping as it brushes against your heat, low grumbling into your mouth at the action.

his jacket slips from his shoulders and onto the floor, your soft hands running down the length of his arms, brushing against the tattoos you used to spend hours tracing.

eddie’s hands roam your body, between your thighs, tucking underneath the elastic of the shorts as your hips lift in unison, allowing him to pull them down.

his throat rumbles at your lack of underwear, rough denim pressed against your cunt, his erection demanding out of his jeans.

your fingers fumble with his jeans, hearing the low clink of his belt somewhere muddled between his grunting and your melodic pants.

the throbbing between your thighs becomes almost insatiable, finding your own release on the rough fabric of his jeans, sighing into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip into yours instead.

cold fingers grip your thighs, lifting your legs so that they rest around his waist, clothed cock nudging against your heat, growling into your mouth.

your head jerks back, “my mom.. my mom’s next door..” you pant, fingers trailing over his lips, doing nothing to muffle his raspy groans.

“good,” eddie smirks, hurriedly tugging his boxers down beneath his balls, burying himself inside of your soaked cunt, “i never liked her.”

a strangled moan is all you manage in response, grabbing at the desk for a little leverage as his hips meet the back of your thighs. any anger you felt towards his insults towards your mother quickly float away, turning into static as he slides slowly in and out.

marvelling at the sight of your cunt once again envelopes around him. you’d missed that, his damn near infatuation with your pussy.

the wooden frame knocks against the wall, whatever shit you had compiled for the morning all comes tumbling down, clattering to the floor alongside your long mewls.

eddie near enough melts, fingers melding into one with your skin, filling your cunt to the hilt. a certain feeling that had never been replaced, only achieved by him and his undeniable love for your pussy.

your lips catch onto his, attempting to muffle his hoarse groans, hoping to to god that the walls were thick enough.

“missed you,” he murmurs, half into your mouth, the other vibrating against your chin as your lips connect in the most careless manner.

your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving, pressed to his as your fingers begin to loosen their grip on the desk. his pace unfaltering with utter desperation, an exhilaration he had chased for years, to no avail.

“fuck,” you whine, regretting the shaky word the second it slips out. one arm hooks around his neck, forehead resting against his as his hair begins to stick.

it’s so disgusting, so wracked with desire that you’re sure you’ll be thinking- feeling it for months.

eddie’s cock nudges against against the spot only he could ever find, his pubic bone catching against your clit. fuelling the inextinguishable fire in your stomach, only making it rise into your throat.

with every fervent thrust he’s grumbling something;

fuck, shit, love you, love you.

your legs tremble, exhausted as they sit around his zealous hips. naturally, they tighten, drawing him in closer, an incessant need to feel all of him all at once.

“you can’t.. not inside,” you pant, opening his eyes to meet his though they’re not on yours. staring starry eyed at the space between your bodies, watching as they collide in ways your heart had longed for.

he’s close, you can tell. choking on his breaths when you squeeze around him, signalling your own orgasm.

“fuck, i can’t-,” eddie howls, desperately pounding his cock into your quivering cunt, giving everything away for the last thirty seconds.

you cry out, toppling over the edge as your stomach all but bursts, the pleasure reaching every last nerve in your body. clinging to his neck with a white knuckle grip, clutching his clammy skin as your body turns to mush before him.

eddie just about manages to pull out, sliding between your slick folds before his stomach lurches, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your stomach, thighs and the desk.

your foreheads remain as one, gasping into the hot air that surrounds you.

finally, his eyes trail up toward yours, meeting with the most sorrowful look that a man who has just cum, could hold.

it’s as if reality sets in, untangling your legs to shove him away. harsh and untoward as he stumbles back, still reeling from his own orgasm.

“oh my god,” you mumble incoherently, “oh my god, i’m getting married tomorrow,” clenching your fist, shouting as if he were somehow unaware.

his silence is deafening, his release still clinging to your body as you jump from the wooden table, marching into the bathroom, swallowing the urge to cry.

eddie stands with his head hung low, belt still undone as you sanctimoniously barging back past him to redress yourself, muttering ferocious whispers to yourself.

“i’m getting married tomorrow,” you repeat, unwavering anger in your voice. undecided on whether you were telling him or yourself that fact.

“so you’re still gonna marry him?” eddie asks, a slight hint of optimism in his tone. he had reason to be, you suppose. anyone else would assume the same.

you swallow, “what else is there for me?”

getting married had been the next logical step. you had the job, the house, the sweet, timid guy that wouldn’t hurt a fly. why wouldn’t you marry him?

his face crumples, brows stitched together in confusion, “me?”

almost on instinct, your head shakes, smacking your palm into his shoulder, “no. not you. it’s not supposed to be you,” a certain sadness plaguing your tone, “it was never supposed to be you,” palm slapping into his chest.

eddie’s face falls, holding his jacket in his hands wishing you’d take it back, tell him you were lying and that you really did still love him.

buried somewhere under years of regret, you probably still did.

tears weep out of the corner of your eye, quickly wiped away with your trembling finger. “you need to leave,” eyes pointed to the floor, refusing to look at him any longer.

he sighs, hesitantly stepping around the mess you both had made and out of your peripheral view. slow steps, willing for your mouth to open and those three words to dance out of it.

the door clicks shut and you’re alone again. nauseous and wishing you had just let him stay, wanting nothing more than to be held in your insurmountable feelings of remorse.

-

you’ve barely slept, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and indecision.

six years of work and making something of yourself had come horrifically crashing down in one night, one stupid, moronic mistake.

but was it really a mistake when your heart still aches and your lips still feel the traces of his.

a short knock breaks you from your trance, the noise you’d been dreading all night.

sarah. bright-eyed and stupidly excitable nature, ready for your wedding day.

“woah,” she remarks, eyes darting around the room you’re just now realising you forgot to clean, “crazy night?” she smirks, eyeing the bottles and pens that had fallen from the desk to the floor.

“oh,” you smile, bile rising in your throat, “i’m just..” clambering for an excuse, “clumsy.”

she scoffs, dumping her bag on the unmade bed, “you don’t have to lie to me,” smile growing, “if you and mark wanna.. break traditions then i’m all for it.”

her wilful innocence makes you feel all the more worse. you’re supposed best friend was none the wiser, bouncing around with a proud smile, ready for your wedding day.

- eddie’s pov -

steve notices something’s up immediately.

dark rings accompanying eddie’s eyes after he had gone missing for hours last night.

“you good?” steve’s hand thwacks against his back, assuming eddie’s manner was all to do with the fact that you were getting married and not that only a few hours ago, he was telling you that he still loved you while you were having sex.

the ride to the venue is quiet, which everyone appreciates, having prepared for a litany of complaints and whining.

the church is even more extravagant than the hotel, resembling one of those castles he’d seen in a fairytale book.

he wants that to make him feel better, that at least he wasn’t the one wasting all of this money on a stupid wedding, but it doesn’t.

because irregardless of how much money you were spending, you were still marrying someone else.

sure, it wouldn’t be a particularly honest nor holy marriage but it’d be a marriage nonetheless. something he would never have with you. no matter how hard he tried.

they file into the pew, sitting slumped against the varnished wood as everyone chatters around him.

concerned heads fly around, the groomsmen rushing up the aisle as they’re beckoned by your bridesmaids.

eddie sits up, looking around at the frantic bridesmaids who were desperately trying to get the pastor’s attention. something’s wrong. he can feel it in his bones.

he throws up a quick two with his fingers to steve before sliding out of the pew, ducking his head down the aisle as he searches for you.

slipping past the worried wedding party, opening a multitude of doors in search of you. hoping that you’d at least made it to the church, that you were okay.

he doesn’t expect to find you in here, holding onto your mouth, mascara stains dripping down your cheeks, curled into the corner with your shoulders shaking. eddie slips in, shoving the broom in between the door handle, ensuring that no one else could find the pair of you.

you spend a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes until you squeak, “what’re you doing?” the most soul crushing tone that makes his heart ache.

“i came to find you,” he says, simply.

because he would, he’d do it in every life.

your palm smears the black stains around your cheek, scoffing at his words. “you shouldn’t have.. i’m fine,” trying to convince yourself more than you were him.

“you don’t look fine.”

your bottom lip trembles, threatening to spill over again. evoking a harsh stab of guilt through his chest. eddie surges toward you, placing his palms over yours, “you don’t have to do this.. we can leave right now,” he assures, searching your eyes. he’d whisk you away in a heartbeat, you didn’t even have to ask. just give him that look.

your nostrils flare, a wail constricted to the back of your throat, trying hard not to alert the hundreds of wedding guests sat just a couple hundred meters away. the dark light of the closet does well to accentuate your tearful eyes, his heart aching with every sniffle, every quietened sob that falls from your lips.

then, you growl, rather forcefully slapping his chest, “this is your fault,” fingers grabbing onto his suit jacket, “why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” frustration seeping out of your words.

eddie doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that would make you feel better.

so he stands in silence, letting you treat him like your verbal punching bag.

“i can’t do it,” you cry, burying your face into his neck, “i can’t.. marry him.”

he nods, stood just before you in this cramped closet, “you don’t have to,” assuredly grabbing your sodden cheeks, streaks of black stain his palms, “we can go.. anywhere you want, right now.”

promising the world because really, it was all he had to offer.

he wasn’t rich, hadn’t figured out how to get the fuck out of hawkins yet but he did know that he loves you and he’d do anything to prove that.

you swallow, averting your eyes to the sparkling ring on your hand, curled into the fabric of his jacket. “okay,” flicking back to his eyes, it’s so simple and yet it knocks the breath from his lungs.

nothing really registers, eddie had planned for more bargaining, certain that regardless of his pleas, you’d still end up walking down that aisle, promising yourself to another man.

“really?” he asks, clarifying for both himself and for you. there was still time for you to pull yourself together and go get married, he wasn’t going to deny you that.

“really,” you nod frantically, “i’ll go anywhere,” tugging at the collar of his shirt, “anywhere with you.”

[solomons-finest-rum]

I will go ahead and request something myself bc I can't freaking resist. I wanna read more of your work.

Alfie and fem! reader. Where alfie does this little ritual with the eyes closed and the reader who works for him passes by and he invites her to join him bc he secretly fancies her and they talk and then she kisses him, or he kisses her. Whichever suits you better.

It's an idea I had in my mind for days but I can't bring myself to actually write, which is why I'm sure you'll do it justice if you decide to write it

“Tonne onto Your Bill” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)

SUMMARY — As Alfie's accountant, you were to accompany him to the meeting with Luca Changretta. Little did you know, that very meeting would reveal your true feelings for Alfie that you tried to keep hidden for so very long.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I know it took me a while, babes! 💗💗💗💗💗 I hope you didn't mind the waiting, but I wanted this one to be just right for my lovely mutual!!!

WORD COUNT — 1,092

Masterlist

You were a little surprised when Alfie asked you to accompany him to the meeting with Luca Changretta. Granted, as Alfie’s secretary your presence was usually required at the various business meetings he had, but those were usually limited to the legal dealings at the bakery. Never before had Alfie asked or indicated in any way that he wanted you to even catch a glimpse of that side of his business. Truth be told, aside from being surprised, you were also quite eager to witness it all for yourself.

All nervousness left you, however, as soon as you entered the storage room where the meeting was going to take place. There he was, the big bad wolf, the boss of Camden Town, standing between the rows of rum barrels with his eyes closed. For a moment there you were certain something was wrong, until he said:

“Well, there ya are! Thought you’d leave me hangin’ to take my own damn notes.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Solomons,” you managed to say, still a little stunned that he knew it was you.

You approached him slowly, hesitant like a cat. You realised he wasn’t peeking, though. His eyes were closed shut, but the corner of his mouth quirked up as soon as you were standing face to face.

“Sure ya would,” Alfie said and leaned forward on his cane.

You stood your ground, but still wondered how he knew.

“You knew it was me, sir?”

“Right, don’t mind me sayin’ that, luv, but I think you’re the only one around here who wears high heels.”

You smiled and looked away, feeling a bit foolish for not coming to the same conclusion as quickly as Alfie had.

“Of course.” You cleared your throat and opened your notebook. “Mr. Solomons, should I be aware of any further expenses pertaining to this transaction? I mean, besides what we already discussed.”

Alfie chuckled at that and shook his head. You paid that no mind. Alfie often made fun of the way you talked to him–always proper, always official. He had no idea that was your smokescreen. You had to remain professional, because otherwise he would surely know how in love with him you really were.

“Always an accountant with me, ain’t ya?” Alfie rubbed his face, but still wouldn’t open his eyes. “Nah, you don’t need to be so worried, luv. If anythin’, right, it’s them who’s gonna pay us a stupidly large sum.”

You sighed and wrote something in your notebook. Alfie laughed when he heard you underline it twice.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“What did ya write down just now?”

“Oh…” You looked into your notes as if you hadn’t just written that down. “Make up a believable commission tax comma or write off, question mark.”

Alfie laughed at your absolute honesty and you huffed, a little offended. He still wouldn’t open his eyes, however, and you took that opportunity to get a good look at him. Those stolen glances around his office stopped being enough for you long ago and you seized the chance to get more.

You took in everything that was Alfie; the strong silent stance, the shirt so hopelessly wrinkled you could scream, the full, very kissable lips hidden underneath that impossibly shaggy beard, those forehead lines you fell in love with every single time Alfie would frown, and the uncombed hair you just wanted to run your fingers through to make it even messier.

“You still there?” he asked, tearing you away from your thoughts.

“Yes, Boss.”

Alfie smirked at that and you knew if there ever was a chance to reveal your innermost feelings, it would be that very moment. You put down your notebook on the nearest rum barrel and closed the distance between you and Alfie in two short strides.

Before he could say or do anything, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him deeply. A rush of blood and excitement left you completely lightheaded, as if you had just taken a large gulp of that rum that surrounded you.

You didn’t want to let go, but you somehow knew you had to. The moment was over, you said your piece… Or rather–lay yourself and your feelings bare for Alfie’s judgement. You let go of him, honest to God frightened that he would lash out or fire you or…

Well, you did not expect him to growl, but that guttural sound he just made could bear no other name. Alfie finally opened his eyes and looked straight at you. Whatever he was thinking, you couldn’t tell. He could make his face a mask of perfect indifference if he really wanted to and it seemed like that was exactly what he was doing now.

“Right, don’t mind me sayin’ so, luv, but that just made my ego grow ‘bout three sizes.”

“You wanted to say ‘balls’, didn’t you?”

He laughed again, obviously appreciating your snark. Oh, how you loved to make that man laugh. You wanted to take all that in again and gazed into his eyes, this time daring to linger. He had kind eyes, you thought, and the longer you two looked at each other, the more you felt yourself falling for him.

“They’re comin’,” Alfie said then and you turned around, trying to locate whatever he must have seen.

But he didn’t, you realised. He must have heard the Italians long before you could.

“Right, ya ready?”

You took your notebook and nodded, doing your very best to look cold, calculated and professional.

“Yeah. You stay with me, all right?” Alfie stroked your cheek with the utmost gentleness you honestly never would have expected from these hands.

“Of course,” you assured him and covered his hand with yours, lacing your fingers together.

Alfie was doubtful of that gesture, you could immediately tell, but you wouldn’t let go. It seemed like neither of you really wanted to.

“All right now,” Alfie said finally and it was definitely directed to you both. “Let’s deal with these fuckin’ wops, yeah? But you stay right here.”

You moved behind him as directed and gently stroked Alfie’s shoulder just as you saw Luca Changretta approaching. You quickly retracted your hand, observing with disdain the obviously theatrical swagger the man tried to attribute to his walk, his gestures, his entire being.

“Yeah, you’re my best girl, you hear me?” you heard Alfie murmur, and his voice was so quiet you actually weren’t sure if you hadn’t dreamt it. “Let’s put on a good show, shall we, luv?”

[planetjisungie]

hot dog- n.jm

characters; hufflepuff! jaemin x ravenclaw! reader ft. slytherin! haechan, gryffindor! mark and a surprise hufflepuff guest

summary; jaemin practices a transfiguration spell on a pencil that goes slightly wrong. okay, maybe very wrong.

an; 😭😭 I LITERALLY DONT KNOW WHAT THIS IS YOU SHOULD ALL BLAME @thenctaddict FOR THIS SHE GAVE ME THE PLOT BECAUSE ORIGINALLY IT WAS SLYTHERIN JAEMIN AND HE WAS GONNA BE A BULLY AND SHZ STRONGLY OPPOSED and im writing this as a bullet point bc for the sake of my sanity

sigh okay so you are super smart ravenclaw™️

like definition of a ravenclaw, a lot of the yonger years looked up to you and came to you if they needed help

your best subject just so happened to be transfiguration

took me a while to spell that one

jaemin was hufflepuff™️

he was also terrible at transfigurations

so when the new year started, you two shared transfigurations class (im starting to get real tired of the word transfigurations)

and you happened to be sat right across from eachother

your best friend eunji sat next to you, she was also hufflepuff™️ super cute wbk

halfway into the lesson you could already see sir na struggling

not that you were staring at him or anything

okay maybe you were

but like no one else had to know that

but its not like you were the only clown in the room staring at someone

eunji sis we see you staring at mark

coincidentally mark sat next to jaemin

thats so iconic omg

anyways the lesson finished and you did good, as always, miss ravenclaw

no need to flex bro

jaemins just sat next to mark with his jaw slack like

"yo how can y/n get this shit?"

"maybe if you stopped daydreaming about her and listened you could pass"

so THAT was why jaemin was failing transfigurations (god help me)

HOLY SHIT I JUST REMEMBERED MY COOKIE DOUGH ICE CREAM I LEFT IN THE FRIDGE

okay so you leave the room to get to lunch with eunji

so you sit down at the ravenclaw table next to your best-ravenclaw-smart-friend renjun

normal lunchtime shit

him choking you for pointing out his obvious crush on the gryffindor girl

but like i said YOU AINT ANY BETTER SIS

like,, oh jaemin has a hair out of place today?

his tie seems a little longer than usual

his shoe laces are uneven

you stare at him THAT much

its a problem and you should fix it

just fucking talk to him

"y/n can you grab my notes from my desk please?"

eunji and her forgetful ass forgetting her herbology notes yet again

this is the 3rd time in the last 2 weeks

eunji get your act together

so you walk to the hufflepuff common room, tapping the correct barrel to get in seeing as you go there so much (you may as well be a hufflepuff (huffleclaw?ravenpuff?))

and would you look at that

literally about ten minutes beforehand jaemin left lunch early to practice the transfiguration spell so he could impress you

bad idea™️

so he lifted his lil wand (my new rapper name) ready to start casting the spell

he was gonna turn a pencil into a macaroni hot dog (oh my)

because?? he wanted to provide for you??

just let the poor cute boy make you a hot dog

your fine ass opens the door just before he finishes the spell

jaemin turns towards you in shock, and horror

you freeze up because why the fuck is he casting a spell at lunch

then there was some sparkly mist idk it smelt like food (yum)

and jaemin panicked

because you disappeared

well you didnt

you were just laying on the floor: in hotdog form

jaemin was HORRIFIED part 2

he nearly screamed and went to go pick you up

"y/n?! can you hear me?! im so sorry!"

rip he thinks all his chances with you are gone

but youre whipped

can you even have consciousness as a hotdog?

this is my blog so we say yes

wtf™️

why are you so small and why the fuck does it reek of macaroni???

also YOU CANT MOVE

scary

but jaemins beautiful face is right in front of you

you cant speak tho because hot dogs dont have mouths sorry science says NO SIR

so you’re literally wondering what the fuck is happening

jaemin is still freaking out

our good friend, slytherin haechan opens the door to the hufflepuff common room

first thing he sees is jaemin? screaming at a hotdog?

"bro what are you doing?"

"this is y/n!"

"...jaemin thats a hotdog"

"NO Y/N IS THE HOTDOG"

panicked af part 2

but hes also slightly amused

so the duo run out of the common room to get help

because you cant stay as a hotdog forever or ? youll go mouldy ? dont know how this works but we move

"mark! eunji!"

so thats why eunji couldnt get her notes

little rat

"jaemin why are you carrying a hotdog?"

i never want to eat a hotdog again

"this is y/n"

"jaemin i know youre whipped for y/n but naming a hotdog after her is a little far

exposed™️

jaemin doesnt know you can hear this

if a hotdog could blush it would be bright red

"no, mark he turned y/n into a hotdog" haechan saved the day by explaining

so the gang spend the rest of the day skipping classes in the library looking for a spell to fix you (by coldplay)

ironic

strangely no one questions the hotdog being preciously carried by jaemin and not even being eaten

apart from renjun

man strolls into the library like the dedicated ravenclaw he is

"what the fuck is happening?"

"jaemin turned y/n into a hotdog" thanks eunji for explaining clearly

panicking part 3

this is getting kinda long wow

the gang finally find a spell with renjuns help

hes a dang godsend

thank lords for giving us a huang renjun

and so jaemin goes to perform the spell

this idea is quickly refuted and mark slams a hand over his mouth

"let me do it, youve already done enough damage to the poor girl"

fair enough

jaemin stands back

mark turns you back into your lil pretty perfect self

thank FUCK

"im human?? IM HUMAN" you smile widely because you know

no longer an edible, perishable item slathered in cheesy pasta

"y/n im so sorry, if theres anything i can do to make up for that"

hmm 😏

"take me on a date"

boom, now jaemin is the edible, perishable item

tomato

and kids, well thats how mum met dad

the end

[izloveshorses]

Uncomfortable

a tentative spies/chuck au, 800 words. just keeping this at a drabble for now bc if I were to write a full length au I think it would require some more thought. but for now, this thought wouldn’t leave me alone, so... here.

Dmitry didn’t work well under pressure.

Not when he had a long line of customers at the store to deal with on a holiday, not when the toast popped out of the toaster a little darker than he wanted while he was late for work, and especially not when he had to diffuse a bomb. A bomb with 56 seconds left on the timer.

“Did you flash?” Anya asked him as they gazed down at the massive cylinder and the red digits getting smaller and smaller. A strand of hair had loosened from her ponytail on their way here— he couldn’t look away from the timer in the hopes that the intersect stuck in his brain would do its job and give him the knowledge to solve random problems against his will, but he didn’t have to look at her to know. He had already done his fair share of noticing every detail about her. 

“Obviously not,” he said through gritted teeth, rubbing his temples in a futile act to spark… something.

She huffed and marched forward. “Screw it, get out of here. I’ll try to diffuse it.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you here!”

“That is an order, Dmitry!” she whipped her head around at him. She had the panel pulled open to reveal a few wires.

He crossed his arms. Irritating her probably wasn’t the best move at the moment but he was a little stressed and a good and healthy argument with Anya always calmed his nerves. “Looks like I’m disobeying.”

That got her. She stood up and pulled her pistol out at him. Months ago when all this spy stuff started, or even a week ago, he would’ve done the logical thing and raised his arms and did as he was told when facing the barrel of a gun and Anya’s glare. But now, more than anything, he was just annoyed. And angry. Intoxicatingly angry. “Oh, so we either get blown up or you shoot me? Great plan.”

“Just go!”

“No!”

“You’re the stubbornest person I’ve ever met!” She abandoned the gun and the panel of the bomb to march closer to him.

He stepped forward. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘brave.’”

“Why won’t you just let me do my job?”

“I don’t know, maybe you bring out the worst in me!”

“And you in me!”

One last furious glance at the timer. 7 seconds. He met her eyes again, a little softer, a little more panicked than angry. “Well, it was nice knowing you.” And then he closed his eyes and waited for the end.

But it never came. Instead he felt a tug on the collar of his shirt and a pair of lips on his.

His hands responded before his mind did, pulling her close, bending down while she kept tugging on his shirt collar. The long string of question marks running across his brain straightened into exclamation points when he was finally caught up with what was going on— Anya was kissing him, and it was everything he wanted and more, a violent fight and a flag of peace all in one, his heart pounding while he deepened the kiss and breathed her in. The stress of the day and their argument and the bomb faded away, not even the ticking timer interrupting their moment.

Wait. The ticking actually stopped— it wasn’t just his lovesick stupor messing with his senses after all. Which means the bomb stopped. Shouldn’t they be incinerated by now?

He froze and Anya must’ve had the same thought at the same time because she froze, too, eyes blinking open, slowly dropping back to her heels, her grip on his collar loosening. He was still close enough to feel her breath on his cheek. The silence was almost worse than the ticking, too long and too heavy. “Well,” she breathed, clearing her throat. “Good news is we’re still alive.”

He could only muster a swallow and maybe a nod. He wasn’t sure he could make his body do anything after… that.

“But the bad news is this is kind of an uncomfortable situation.”

He dropped the hand still holding her and ran his fingers through his hair. Whatever emotion he was feeling at that moment definitely was not discomfort. “It’s not too bad on my end.” And, in spite of the stress of the last sixty seconds, he couldn’t help but let a small smile twitch on his well-kissed lips. “Could be worse.”

Anya managed to give him a microscopic smile in return, her eyes big and round and much too vulnerable for a trained spy to allow, betraying a little more of what she was feeling than she probably would’ve wanted, but it didn’t last. 

She turned her head back to investigate what happened with the bomb and he followed her gaze. No matter. This conversation would have to wait until later. For now, they had a job to do.

[ukulelewrites]

Veritaserum

A/N: my first nct dream fic!!!! this has been in the works for 5 months now bc i kept getting sidetracked with other fics and miscellaneous personal affairs but here it is~~~ i hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: NCT Dream’s Jaemin x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Slytherin!Reader x Hufflepuff!Jaemin AU

Word Count: 5.4k 

Veritaserum:  "Three drops of this and even You-Know-Who himself would spill out his darkest secrets."

Don’t you ever feel like the universe ever just looked down on you and went, “fuck you, Y/N?” This was definitely one of those days.

See, you were mindlessly walking back to the Greenhouses since you had to ask Professor Sprouts an extremely pressing question regarding the cultivation of peaches for a certain potion you were concocting. Simple stuff really, no way you’d get harm doing something as simple as walking, right? Wrong, 100% completely wrong. Just as you turn the corner of the corridor leading to the Greenhouses, a sudden force comes barreling right into you, knocking you off of your feet and falling backwards onto the floor. The last thing you saw before screwing your eyes shut was a blur of peachy hair. Your back comes upon impact with the floor, and you could feel the weight of your barreller on top of you. However, your mind comes to a rushing halt when you realized that there was also something brushing against your lips very softly before the feeling is gone. Your eyes snap open when you hear a murmured apology, and all you could catch of your first-kiss-stealer’s appearance was his peach-colored hair and his yellow & black robes flowing behind him.

“What happened to you?” your best friend, Donghyuck asks when he spies you storming through the Great Hall’s doors and towards the Slytherin table. The moment you sat down, you slam your head down on the dining table and let out an obnoxious groan, earning a handful of curious glances from your peers. “Okay, Y/N, what crawled up your ass and laid its eggs?” Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his mashed potatoes when he asks, already used to your dramatics. You give him a grunt in reply. “I swear, Y/N, with your dramatic ass, I’m surprised the Sorting Hat didn’t drop you in Gryffindor,” he says with an eye roll.

“That’s not a nice thing to say about us Gryffindors,” Mark pouts, arriving at the table just to check on you. Unfortunately for Donghyuck, he caught the Slytherin boy’s remark.

“Just look at them!” Donghyuck scoffs, waving his fork in your general direction.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Mark asks. His brows furrow in concern. You lift your head from the table and gave the upperclassman a pout. Donghyuck just scoffs.

“Don’t give my boyfriend that face,” he huffs. You stick your tongue out at the brunet.

“I lo...ss...day,” you mutter.

“What’d you say?” Mark asks, leaning in closer. Donghyuck does too.

“I los...my...irst...ss...day…” you say again, this time just a decibel louder.

“Yah, Y/N, how can you expect us to comfort you if we can’t even hear what you’re saying,” Donghyuck snaps. Mark hits his shoulder and sends him a warning glare.

“I LOST MY FIRST KISS TODAY!” you yell, causing the entirety of the Great Hall to snap their head towards you. “Great,” you mumble, trying very hard to sink yourself further into the bench, “just great.”

“Who would kiss you?” Donghyuck snorts, earning another hit from his boyfriend. “Fine, who kissed you?” Right when he asks, a certain peach-haired boy walks into the Great Hall; this time, however, his hair is much more mussed up, dirt and grass stains his shirt and cheeks, and the yellow and black robe was no longer draping his body but carelessly thrown over his shoulder. You freeze up once your eyes land on him. Your two friends quip their eyebrows at your odd behaviour before following your line of vision.

“Wait, hold up,” Mark starts, “are you telling me—”

“Na Jaemin claimed your virgin lips?” Donghyuck hisses. You quickly lunge forward and cover your best friend’s big fat mouth with your hand.

“Shush it!” you snap, your voice barely above a whisper. “He might hear you!”

“I can’t believe you let the biggest flirt in the entire school kiss you?” Mark questions, “Like, Y/N, our beloved cynical snake, let the smiliest, flirtiest boy kiss them? And it was their first kiss too?” The poor Gryffindor sits down for a second to process the overwhelming information. “Wow, that’s actually wild,” he utters.

“It wasn’t like I purposefully let him kiss me,” you mutter, suddenly becoming way more interested in your soup.

“Are you trying to tell me he accidentally kissed you?” Donghyuck teases, but at the notice of your miniscule nod, his eyes widen. “Oh shit, how’d that happen?”

“Muffliato,” you mutter, waving your wand under the table. Once you ensure none of your fellow housemates were eavesdropping, you retell to Mark and Donghyuck exactly how a certain peach-haired Hufflepuff stole your virgin lips.

“Think he knows what he did?” Mark asks. You look over to the Hufflepuff table. Jaemin has the sleeve of his dress shirt rolled up and his tie loose; he was currently in the middle of recounting some anecdote from Quidditch practice to the flock of yellow & black-robed girls situated around him.

“I doubt it,” you snort, “It doesn’t matter anyway; it’s just a kiss.”

“You’re a filthy liar, Y/N L/N,” you curse under your breath. Ever since the incident, you have been spying that cursed, albeit beautiful, boy much more often. Like, you knew you share classes with him, but now you find your eyes wandering towards his direction during Herbology and Charms and Potions.

“Y/N L/N?” Professor Flitwick’s voice breaks through your reverie, “May you go ahead and demonstrate the proper motion for Aguamenti? It seems that a certain group,” he sends a pointed look towards Jaemin and his friends, the party looking significantly singed, “seemed to have forgotten what we had learned in our previous lesson.”

“Of course, Professor.” You get out of your seat and stand in the center of the room. Your eyes flicker across the room for a second, briefly making eye contact with Jaemin before focusing back to the wand in your hand. You will your face to stop getting so hot after realizing exactly how intently the peach-haired Hufflepuff was staring at you. “Aguamenti,” you state, moving your wand in a fluid motion, mimicking the movement of the waves. A gentle stream of water spurts from the tip of your wand and into the potted plant placed on Professor Flitwick’s desk. The class gives you a polite round of applause, and Professor Flitwick beams at you.

“My pansies are quite happy they’ve finally been watered,” he jests, “10 points to Slytherin for Y/N’s excellence in the Augamenti charm!” His eyes then flicker back to the Hufflepuffs’ side of the classroom. “And I advise you,” he says looking pointedly at Jaemin, “to follow Y/N’s example the next time I ask you all to demonstrate the charm. Class is dismissed!” You gather your books and parchment into your bag and catch up with Donghyuck at the door.

“I think your 10 points just put us in the lead for the House Cup,” your best friend cheers as the two of you made way towards the Quidditch field; he sits on the bleachers and works on homework while you whiz around on your Nimbus 2001 and run drills with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. “Now just continue being the giant ass nerd you are, and we might finally kick Gryffindor off of their 3-year win streak.”

“I thought you told Mark you weren’t salty about them winning last year?” you ask, turning towards your friend and quirking a brow.

“Sometimes, little white lies won’t hurt the relationship. It’ll only preserve it,” he says sagely, “Plus, you’re always complaining about how they win everything, so don’t pretend you’re not plotting to steal the House Cup away from them this year.”

“Well-”

“Y/N!” a voice rings out from behind you, promptly interrupting your sentence. You whip your head around to see Jaemin running up towards you, his yellow and black robe billowing behind him. Immediately you tense up.

“Hi, Jaemin,” Donghyuck greets. The Hufflepuff gives him a nod of acknowledgement before turning towards you.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks you.

“You kinda just did,” Donghyuck interjects again. You glare at him, and he simply raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave. See you at the field, Y/N.”

“What’s up, Jaemin?” you ask, trying to play it at cool as possible.

“Um, well,” he dips his head, and you’re faced with a mop of peachy hair. When he looks up at you, his face is adorned with a boyish, shy smile. Jaemin rubs at the back of his neck before he asks you, “Can you help me with Charms?” You’re taken aback by his question. Mainly because you were surprised it wasn’t about the accidental kiss the two of you had shared. He must’ve sensed your hesitancy because he immediately spoke up. “I know we aren’t close, but you’re the best in our N.E.W.T level class, and I’ve been struggling a lot with the technical side of it. I figured you would be able to help me?” he pleads.

“I guess I can?” you reply, “I can’t today since I have Quidditch practice, but I’m free after dinner to help you.”

“Really?” he beams, “That’s awesome, Y/N. Thank you so much!” Jaemin’s smile catches you off guard because you never thought any guy with pink hair could look that beautiful. “I’ll meet up with you after dinner!”

“Watch out, L/N!” your team captain, Yuta, shouts from above you. However, his warning was absolutely useless when a Bludger comes barreling into you and knocks you to the left. The Quaffle you had in your hand went falling towards the ground. “Time out!” Yuta bellows, and the entire team flies back towards the ground.

“You alright, Y/N?” Hyunjin, a fellow Chaser, asks once everyone reached the ground.

“Yeah, sorry for being distracted,” you apologize, “I just had something on my mind.”

“Well get your head in the game, L/N,” Yuta barks, “We have a game this Saturday against Hufflepuff, and they’ve actually been good this year. I’m not about to lose our Quidditch Cup streak to them.”

“Got it,  Captain,” you reply, mounting your broom and heading back up.

“God, that looks like it hurts,” Donghyuck mutters as he peers at the blotch of red that mars your right arm.

“It’s definitely going to leave a bruise,” Yuta chimes in as he plops himself down across the table from  you. “Now, Y/N, I have some ideas for drills next week and-” Your captain stops talking to glare behind your head. “What do you want?”

You quirk a brow at Yuta, and he juts his chin forward in response. You turn around and find yourself greeted by the yellow and black tie of a certain Hufflepuff.

“Uh, I just wanted to see if you were still down with meeting up after dinner?” Jaemin asks, trying not to waver under your captain’s glower.

“Yeah, there’s an empty classroom we could use on the 2nd floor. Just meet me there,” you reply.

“Awesome! I’ll see you later then!”

The moment Jaemin settles back down at the Hufflepuff table, Yuta kicks your leg from under the table.

“What’s that for?” you snap, already fed up with the number of bruises accumulating on your body.

“I can’t believe you’re flirting with Hufflepuff’s Seeker! Right in front of my salad too!” Yuta exclaims, exaggeratedly gesturing towards his plate.

“We weren’t flirting,” you reply, “I’m just helping him with Charms.”

“But if you don’t help him with Charms, he’ll fail and won’t be able to play in the upcoming match!”

“Guaranteed win for Slytherin,” Donghyuck chimes in with his mouth full of cake.

“And this is why we’re considered the ‘evil’ House,” you mutter, not even sparing your friends a chuckle.

“Fine, but if we lose the game this Saturday, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Cap'n, it’s on me.”

“How did you do that?” Jaemin exclaims as he watches water flow out of the tip of your wand.

“It’s the same thing Professor Flitwick has been trying to teach you for the past week though?” you say with a quirked eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t really pay attention in that class,” he mutters at the end of his sentence.

“What do you pay attention to then?” you prod.

Jaemin averts their gaze. “I, uh, well, I just watch Yukhei shove copious amounts of Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans in his mouth and pray he doesn’t die of sensory overload,” he pauses to run his excuse over in his head again before nodding, “Yeah, that’s what I do.”

You don’t believe his excuse at all, but you ignore his horrible lying skills and revert your focus back onto the task at hand. “Anyways, the trick to perfecting Augamenti is to make sure your arm motion is fluid. Even if you tense just a bit, the charm won’t work 100% like you want it to,” you explain, demonstrating for him again the motion. He stares in awe at the steady stream of water flowing from your wand and nods in understanding. You train your eyes on Jaemin’s form and pick up his mistake instantly.

“Uh, is something wrong?” he asks, shifting awkwardly under your gaze.

“Here, let me fix something,” you reply before moving towards him. You take his arm and position it just a bit further outwards and nudge his right leg forward a bit with your foot. Once his stance was correct, you take a step back to look over his figure again. “Tsk, you’re still too stiff. Loosen your muscles a bit, Jaemin.” He does as you instruct, but you could only grumble at how off it looks. His shoulders were slightly hunched over, and his arms were too tense. Your eyes drift meticulously over his body and your spirits dampen further when you see his locked knees. Taking matters into your own hands, you place your palms on his shoulders to slightly push them back. You then trail your hands deftly down his arms to loosen them up, trying especially hard not to notice the toned muscles that flex beneath your fingertips. Before you could even think about kneeling down to address the knee problem, Jaemin unlocks his knees. This time you notice the adorable flush dusting his cheeks.

“Well,” you awkwardly coughed, “your stance is right. Try the spell now.”

“Augamenti,” Jaemin says smoothly, producing a stream of water from his wand. “Woah!” he exclaims, “I did it!”

“Looks like my work here is done. Goodnight, Jaemin,” you state, turning around to leave.

“Wait, let me walk you back to your Common Room.”

“You want to come down to the dungeons? Even with curfew starting in 30 minutes?” you ask, quirking a brow at him.

“I can’t just let you walk back by yourself! That’d be rude of me!” he exclaims.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle walking by myself,” you say, trying to ward off the smile threatening to form on your lips.

“Still…”

It didn’t matter how many times you tell him that you were completely capable of walking to your Common Room by yourself, he still trails behind you, chattering away, and pulling laughter from your lips. You were enjoying his company so much that you didn't even notice the two of you already standing before the entrance.

“Morior invictus,” you say. The entrance opens up, revealing the long hallway leading to your Common Room. “Well,” you say, turning back towards the peach-haired boy, “Good night, Jaemin.” You want to smack yourself at how smitten you sound.

“Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams,” he says softly. You watch as he turns around and runs back the way the two of you came from. His sweet voice still lingers in your ears, making you smile even brighter the more times you replay his words in your head.

“Ugh,” you snap out of your reverie, “He’s not even that cute.” You pause for a second to collect your thoughts before breaking the silence, “Don’t lie to yourself, Y/N. He’s extremely cute. The cutest, smiliest-”

“Who’s extremely cute?” a voice speaks out from your left, causing you to jump back.

“Donghyuck! Don’t scare me like that!” you scold.

“Anyways, who’s extremely cute?” your best friend goads while wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Not you, you toad,” you jest. He sticks his tongue out at you in return, and you just huff and start walking towards the stairway leading to your room.

“Is it a certain cotton candy-haired Hufflepuff?” Donghyuck asks nonchalantly, matching his step with yours.

“It’s actually peach-colored,” you reply absentmindedly. However, you catch your mistake quickly and whirl around to face your best friend with wide eyes. “Wait, actually-”

“Aha! I knew it! You do like Na Jaemin!” he exclaims.

“Donghyuck, please, I swear keep your voice-”

“Mark owes me unlimited butterbeers for a month now! Heck yeah, high five, Y/N, couldn’t have done this without you!” He cheers and holds out his hand for you. However, you could not find it in you to share his joy.

“You can’t tell anybody. Do you understand me?”

“Why not? It’s no fun to keep secrets,” he teases. “Speaking of that, when are you gonna tell the guy?”

“What?” you look at him in horror, “Never!”

“Aw, c’mon, Y/N. He obviously likes you too!”

“You’re shitting me, right?” you deadpan, “He absolutely does not!”

“Why did he ask you to help him with Charms then?”

“Because he’s failing Charms? And I’m the best in the class? Donghyuck, if he was failing Potions, he would’ve definitely asked you.”

“But, he didn’t have to walk you all the way back to the Common Room,” Donghyuck retorts. You don’t reply. “Heh, I gotchu there, didn’t I?” he teases, earning a smack to the head from you.

“I’m going to bed,” you deadpan, “And I’m promptly ignoring you for the rest of the week.”

You rush down the corridors towards the Great Hall while pulling your Quidditch jersey over your head. “God, I can’t believe I slept past my alarm,” you grumble, already dreading the earful you were going to get from Yuta upon your arrival. You barge through the throng of first-year Hufflepuffs and rush towards the Slytherin table, snatching the piece of toast out of Donghyuck’s hand, and plopping down next to him.

“You’re 10 minutes late, Y/N,” Yuta comments.

“Well, Hyunjin isn’t here yet, so I don’t see the problem,” you retort with your mouth full of food. Donghyuck silently hands you a glass of apple juice which you accept gratefully. However, you catch him eying you warily mid-chug, so you place the glass down and send him a questioning look.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks.

“I’m not mad, just annoyed with you,” you reply, picking up the glass to chug down the rest of your juice. Donghyuck just hums in response, but you notice the mischievous glint in his eye. “What did you do?”

“What?” he feigns innocence, “Nothing! When I have ever caused you any harm?”

“The time in our first year where you turned my morning apple juice into orange juice, the time in our second year where you chucked a Quaffle at my head while I was trying out for the team, the time in our third year where you shoved a-”

“Okay, I get it! But, you know you love me.”

You open your mouth to give him a snarky response, but instead you reply with, “Yeah, I do,” much to your own surprise. “Huh,” you muse outloud, “I guess I’m in a good mood today.” Donghyuck just nods along, and Yuta rolls his eyes at the two of you.

“Finish your food, Y/N. We have a game to win today,” Yuta states before getting up and heading towards the Quidditch pitch.

“Nervous, Y/N?” Hyunjin asks as the two of you mount your brooms.

“Yeah,” you reply, frowning at your honesty. You never show people your nervousness. You’re gnawing away at your lip when you catch Jaemin’s eyes staring at you. You shoot him a small smile, and he beams right back before mouthing the words, “Good luck!” A sudden giddy feeling bubbles away in your stomach, and you could not help as your smile widens. However, you quickly remember you’re about to compete in one of the most important Quidditch games in your life, so you revert your attention back onto Madam Hooch. The moment she threw the Quaffle into the air, you fly towards it and easily gain possession of it before volleying it to Hyunjin, who was already racing towards the goalpost. A Hufflepuff Chaser named Felix tries to intercept your throw but gets knocked back by an expertly hit Bludger.

“Hell yeah!” you cheer when Hyunjin scores the first goal of the match. He sends you a smirk and a nod towards Yuta, who was smugly swinging his bat. Your celebration is cut short when the opposing Goalkeeper chucks the Quaffle back into play; however, you weave your way through the throng of Hufflepuff Chasers, narrowly dodge a Bludger, and catch the ball with ease. Hyunjin prevents any opposing Chasers from stopping your flight, and you score yet another goal for Slytherin. A cheer echoes throughout the pitch. The game continues with both sides scoring until the scores were neck-in-neck; Slytherin was only leading by a 20 point margin. If Jaemin catches the Snitch before Ten, the Slytherin Seeker, did, your team loses the match. You grit your teeth and lean your body forwards, keeping your eyes trained on the Quaffle currently in Felix’s hand. You’re just a hair behind him before you feel something whiz past your ear. Your eyes widen when you realize the Snitch fluttering in front of you. With a quick motion of your hand, Hyunjin assists you in body-checking Felix, allowing your third Chaser to catch the Quaffle and fly back towards your goal post. Hyunjin follows suit to ensure a Slytherin goal, while you pause to look for Jaemin and Ten. Soon enough, the two boys come barrelling through the pitch towards the direction of the Snitch. You curse under your breath when you realize Jaemin has a slight speed advantage over Ten.

“What to do, Y/N?” you mutter before it dawned on you. Slow Jaemin down. You knew Bludgers couldn’t be targeted towards him, and you couldn’t physically slow him down, but a little bit of heckling never hurt anybody. You zero your focus on the peach-haired boy and fly towards him.

“Jaemin!” you call out, not even sure if your plan was going to work. He falters for a second, head perking up at the sound of your voice, allowing Ten to gain an advantage in the pursuit for the Snitch. You could practically see Jaemin kicking himself over his rookie mistake and refocusing his energy on the Snitch, but you are persistent. “You know, you wouldn’t have lost the Snitch if you just brushed your perfect hair out of your eyes,” you taunt. However, horror dawns on you at the realization of your words. What the hell did you just say?

“Wait, what did you just say?” Jaemin throws back, but his attention doesn’t waver.

“I said your hair was perfect just like the rest of you!” What the hell are you saying? You couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up, and you had absolutely zero clue why you couldn’t stop your mouth from saying the dumbest things.

“You think I’m perfect?” he asks, slowing down just a little bit. You don’t know how to respond, but your mouth moves before your brain could stop it.

“Yes.” With those words, you mentally kick yourself and fly back towards the Chaser action happening above you, arriving just in time for Hyunjin to throw you the Quaffle. You push back the odd interaction with Jaemin to the back of your head and throw the ball through the goalpost, earning another 10 points for Slytherin.

Suddenly, Madam Hooch’s whistle rings through the stadium, and you hear the Quidditch announcer, a seventh year Ravenclaw named Doyoung, call out, “And Ten claims the Golden Snitch, earning 150 points for Slytherin! With a game of 210-50, Slytherin wins the match!” A thunderous cheer roars from the stands as your Housemates rejoice in a landslide victory, ensuring Slytherin’s spot in the House Cup finals.

“Hell yeah we won!” Yuta cheers the moment all team members touch the ground. “Who knew Ten could overtake a youngster like that?”

“We’re not that old,” Ten retorts, wrinkling his nose at the idea of being one of the oldest on the team. “And I couldn’t have done it without Y/N being a little shit towards the guy. Who knew Jaemin had such a weakness for our star Chaser?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “I’m the one that has a crush on him.” You freeze at the sudden confession, and your team does too. “Oh my fucking god, why can’t I keep my mouth shut,” you groan.

“It’s like you’re always telling us the truth, Y/N,” Hyunjin mentions, “Like this morning, they told me they were nervous.  For the first time in my entire life, Y/N told me they were nervous!”

You mull over his words before the realization hit. You suddenly recall a lesson from Potions a week ago.

“Professor Slughorn, what is that?” you ask peering into the cauldron that sat upon his desk. The liquid inside is  so clear that you could easily make out the scratch marks at the bottom of the pewter cauldron.

“It’s Veritaserum, you idiot,” Donghyuck chimes in, “Supposed to be the strongest truth potion. Three drops and even You-Know-Who would spill his darkest secrets.”

“Voldemort?” you ask with a quirked brow. Nobody calls him that anymore.

“No! Yuta, of course,” your best friend replies with a wave of his hand, “I always wonder where he disappears off to after curfew.” You shrug in reply, deciding to just head over to your seat as the rest of the class filed in. As Donghyuck answers every single one of Professor Slughorn’s questions like the snivelling know-it-all he is, you focus on doodling in your notebook. Somehow you were able to draw a quite perfect peach.

“Professor, how do you brew a Veritaserum?” Donghyuck asks, pulling your attention away from your parchment.

Professor Slughorn raises an eyebrow at him. “Considering how highly regulated it is by the Ministry, it is not in my best interest to let you know until your seventh year N.E.W.T course. However, you can expect it to be extremely laborious.”

“Is there no way to learn how to brew it, professor?”

“Well, the steps are written down, but those potions books are all in the restricted section of your library. We don’t want any students accidentally conjuring up anything dangerous,” he says with a chuckle. “Why do you ask, Mr. Lee?”

“No reason, professor. Just a little curious, that’s all,” Donghyuck replies smartly, and you snort at his words.

“Oh my god,” you say in horror. He did not. He absolutely could not have. But knowing how brilliant your best friend is in Potions, he most definitely had. You pull away from your team and march towards the stands. The moment you caught sight of him you bellow, “Lee Donghyuck! Get your ass down here now before I invert your ears!” He freezes under your glare and turns to his boyfriend for some sort of backup, but Mark just shrugs and walks off, leaving Donghyuck to defend for himself.

“I cannot believe you would pull something as irresponsibly illegal as pouring Veritaserum in my apple juice! Donghyuck, you idiot! How could you ruin something as sacred and holy as my morning apple juice?” you yell at him under the stands. A strong Muffliato charm keeps any peers or professors from eavesdropping on your tirade. Donghyuck withers under your voice.

“Sorry, Y/N, I was just tired of seeing you pathetically pine over that Hufflepuff, so I took matters into my own hands,” he mumbles.

“By drugging me?” you screech.

“You weren’t being honest to yourself or him, and it is so obvious Mr. Cotton Candy Headass likes you too! So I figured why not? I’m good at brewing, so I gotta use my powers for good!”

“How can you still be so arrogant at a time like this?” you mutter.

“But am I wrong?”

“...No”

“Well then, looks like you have someone to talk to,” Donghyuck says suddenly, pushing you out from under the stands, and making you slam into the body of an incoming person. You look up and see Jaemin peering down at you.

“Y/N?” he asks, “You alright?” You immediately back off of him and send him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I should really look where I’m going. Anyways, good game, I gotta go!” Before you could create any real distance between the two of you, he reaches for your hand and stops you.

“We need to talk.”

“Ha, what do we need to talk about?” you ask, chuckling awkwardly.

“What you said today on the field,” he states, “Look, I don’t know if you were just messing with me to win or if you were being completely honest about what you said.”

“I was being completely honest,” you say bluntly. Well shit, looks like the Veritaserum still has some effect.

“Oh wow, really?” Jaemin asks. He ruffles his hair a bit, and you notice the flush creeping upon his cheeks.

“You know, you’re really cute.” He sputters at your comment. “Like, your hair is the same shade as a peach, and when you blush, your cheeks also turn the same shade as a peach, and it honestly makes me want to pinch your cheeks and cover you with kisses. Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that, but I also can because I’m under the influence of Veritaserum and-” Jaemin takes short strides towards you before cupping your cheeks with his hands and leaning down to capture your lips with his.

Your eyes flutter close at the contact, and you felt him smile into the kiss. When he pulled away, your eyes stay closed for just a couple moments longer before opening to drink in Jaemin’s face post-kiss, blushing cheeks, starry eyes, and all. He smiles gently at you and presses his forehead against yours, eliciting a shy smile from you. He then runs his thumb along your lower lip before whispering, “Even better than the first time.” You look at him questioningly before the meaning of his words sank in.

“You knew I was the person you kissed after barreling into me?” you ask, pulling away from him slightly.

“I could I forget? You have like, the softest lips known to wizarding kind,” he teases.

“Why didn’t you say anything beforehand,” you pout, “That would’ve saved me all the embarrassment on the pitch.”

“Well, I heard a very scary Slytherin complaining about how I stole their first kiss, and I prefer living, so I decided not to bring it up.”

“Then the Charms thing?”

“I actually was failing Charms. I guess fate wanted us to be together so much it made me bomb my last essay,” he jokes. “Plus, I started noticing you around more and figured why not get to know you better. Who knew I’d end up falling for you?” He says the last question so nonchalantly you don’t even notice it until you catch the teasing look he sends your way.

“Shut up,” you mumble shyly, “I have many likable charms.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replies before wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Now, if this Veritaserum is still working, what exactly do you like about my perfect hair?” he teasingly asks. You glare at him, but before the answer could bubble itself out of your mouth, you break from his embrace and run towards the locker rooms. Jaemin chases after you, but stops himself so he can watch on in amusement as you struggle to keep exactly what you liked about him to yourself.

“I’ll get it out of you, Y/N! Even without the Veritaserum!” he calls out.

“You probably will!” you reply, shortly followed by a, “Oh my god, Y/N, shut up!” Jaemin laughs at your adorableness before retreating back towards the stand where he spied Donghyuck lurking. Maybe their sudden “friend-in-law” status could help him procure some Veritaserum, you know, for emergency purposes; definitely not for getting the exact reason you liked him out of you, absolutely not.

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid Chapter 18

Previous: Cricket & Bunny

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x OFC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, Government AgentAU

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Our resident P.I. finds who she's been looking for, and gets an unwelcome surprise. 

(two shorter chapters today!) 

Harboring Hoseok

Present Day

           I found Jung Hoseok.

           Let me back track that statement – After months of digging, harassing my sister for more help, using all my contacts in various bureaus, lying to Euna that I’d made progress when I hadn’t, I finally have found Jung Hoseok, Hoseok Jung.

           I know, you’re wondering, how? What finally cracked the case? How did I, the person incapable of finding Min Yoongi, lucky enough to stumble into Park Jimin, find Jung Hoseok?

           You’ll be shocked, you’ll be amazed, you’ll be dumbfounded that I stumbled into him in the most millennial way possible, because I found him on, don’t hold your breath:

           Instagram.

           That’s right, I stumbled upon Jung Hoseok on fucking Mark Zuckerberg owned, Instagram. It was a coincidence, a twist of fate, that I was even in the vicinity of him, because we do not live in the vicinity of each other. I wasn’t sure he was even alive; I wasn’t sure if he had moved continents or countries. But, in the ether, he resides.

           Sometime after Jungkook told me he loves me, and after I created permanent scarring on his back from my too long fingernails (they’ve since been cut multiple times), I went to my favorite Barre3 studio. I’m not going to lie, I go regularly. I’m addicted. Yes, it can be cult-ish, but have you ever worked out so thoroughly your ass hurts when you stand? Or listened to a teacher relay the message that you are strong, that your body is powerful, that you can accomplish any challenge? If not, and I know this is propaganda, but like take a class. I can give you a discount.

           The point is, somewhere between sumo squats and parallel bridge lifts, I noticed this woman, stunning, who seems to come to class every day before or after she hits the gym with her trainer. The. Stamina. Can you believe? On a Wednesday, I accidentally bumped into her, spilling some of my water down her Sweaty Betty matching set. I apologized profusely, and she laughed it off, saying it cooled her down. She noticed my earrings, liked them, and ever since then we’ve been texting. We’ve even gone so far as to get coffee, which prompted me to do my favorite activity, troll her Instagram. Some people say Instagram is going the way of Facebook, which it easily could be, but it’s so damn fun that I pray every day the trend continues in its favor.

           A public figure, Genevieve Yang is the height of couture. She is at every fashion week, Milan, Paris, New York, and donates nearly as much as Kwan and Seo, combined. Leaving the spotlight to work on a smaller sect of her organization, focusing on women’s reproductive rights, specifically women in poverty, she’s rarely photographed or seen outside of said events. Instead, she works 8-5, exercises regularly and rumor has it, is vegan. She’s the eldest of three, and her siblings are a pediatric cardiologist and a Rhodes Scholar. Within the universe of the Lee’s, she’s looked down upon for being biracial, her father, a first generation Nigerian-American, fell in love with her mother, a first generation Korean American from Busan, during their study abroad stint in Italy. I’ve been dying to find a connection to the Lee’s, and here, in all her melanin glory, is Genevieve.

           In scrolling through her Instagram, I came across a photo series from a few weeks ago. To my surprise, standing with his arm around Genevieve’s shoulder, stands a man with dimples so deep and rays of sun beaming through the photo and barreling past my phone screen.

           Jung Hoseok.

           And who should be next to him?

           Lee Kwan-Min.  

           They’re in an ornate ballroom, gold ceilings and ball gowns, masquerade masks held in their manicured fingers. They’ve been drinking and dancing, as is evident in their, what Jungkook would call Asian Glow, and in the caption.

           Drink every night bc we’re drinking to our accomplishments

           A paraphrase from a Drake song, it seems to ring true as I scan through the other photos of the evening. It must’ve been Lee Enterprises semi-annual gala, masquerade theme taking turns with Gatsby or in the era of Bridgerton, Regency London. Their summer event, Polos & Picnics, is as you guessed it, a Lacoste and Perignon soaked day drinking celebration of everyone’s summer tans and Hampton houses. It’s anyone’s guess which event raises more money, or costs more to put on. Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min throw a few other smaller events, brunches and casino nights, all earnings going to their philanthropy. The galas are the hottest ticket in North America, and I am still stunned that Hoseok had made it into the embrace of Kwan-Min.

           Think Crazy Rich Asians meets the Met Ball. It’s all anyone ever wants to attend, and damn if I’m not jealous every year.

           Hoseok is tagged in the photo series, and by clicking on his name, I can see our mutual friend, and nothing more. The age-old question every millennial has to ask themselves is this, is that enough to send a follow request? I don’t know if it is, but what’s the worst that can happen? He blocks me? Alright, that gives me information that I can use. Sure following him would be the best case, but he could leave it pending for weeks.

           I send the request and text my newest friend, Genevieve Yang, who immediately calls me.

           “Oh Y/N, what do I owe the pleasure?” Genevieve asks.

           “I just thought we could chat, I was looking at your Instagram and-

           “Oh my god! Do the pics from the Masquerade look good? I can’t tell if people love them, or just tolerate them, you know?” She sips loudly on what I assume is some green smoothie, her favorite non H2O beverage.

           “Sure, absolutely, I totally know,” I lie.

           “Don’t lie to me,” Genevieve scolds.

           “They’re beautiful, but I didn’t recognize who was in that first one with you,” I bait.

           “Come off it, you absolutely know,” She laughs but I swear I can hear her rolling her eyes.

           “The woman looked familiar, but I don’t know from what,” I tell her, curiosity in my voice. “I have no clue who that man is.”

           If she could see me, she’d laugh. A barely eaten sandwich, cold coffee in a travel mug I got when I was 20, and dark circles under my eyes from my inability to sleep the last few nights. The paranoia of the last letter has seeped into my subconscious, and I can’t bring myself to sleep unless Jungkook is nearby, of which, he isn’t. Gone on a business trip for the last three nights, gone for five more. How incredibly rude of him, but there isn’t much I can do when his boss could possibly be 007 incarnate. Or Danny Trejo.

           “She’s one of the heirs to Lee Enterprises,” She tells me.

           “The Lee Enterprises?”

           “Oh so you do know?”

           “I’ve heard of them, how could you not? Their parties are exclusive, and that’s putting it generously,” I respond sipping on my own beverage. Two can play ASMR phone games, Genevieve.

           “Oh, the most exclusive, top of the line guests, one year, Beyonce performed, and the next, Adele,” She regales me, tempting me to go off topic.  

           “Are you dating that guy? He’s gorgeous,” I inquire.

           “Hoseok? No, no, not for me. I think he was going to ask Kwan out,” Genevieve says.

           “Really? A new boyfriend?”

           Scoffing loudly, “Just because she isn’t like her siblings doesn’t mean she doesn’t date.”

           “None of them have a particularly stellar track record,” I remind her.

           “Does anyone?” She breathes.

           “I suppose not,”

           “Mm, anyway, Hoseok is eying Kwan, I’m single and you’re still with that guy, who?”

           “Jungkook,”

           “Mm, I think Hoseok might know him,” She says.

           “What?” I ask.

           The thing with being a P.I. is accepting the reality that nothing is a coincidence. There are no happy accidents, nothing is considered fate. I’ve been so, blinded, by my personal connection with Jungkook to see the larger picture. What if he is part of this? Could he be conspiring with these other men? Does he know them, like they seem to be implying? How fucking blind have I been?

           “Yeah, he said something to me later, about knowing a Jungkook and wondering if they were the same. He said that it’s not a common name in Korea, so why would it be here?” Genevieve’s soft voice pulls me back from my panic attack.

           “Yeah, say, does Hoseok know a Namjoon?” I ask.

           “I don’t know, do you want me to ask?” Genevieve sets her drink down, the sound clinking through my phone.

           “Uh, no, no, that’s okay,” My hands hastily move against my keyboard, searching Hoseok’s followers for Namjoon.

           But I don’t find him.

           Instead, my blood runs cold at who I find.

Next: Codename Miss Cuttlefish, If Ya Nasty

[hariboowrites]

And Things Just Got Interesting

Fandom: Thor Pairing/Characters: Jane/Thor; Jane, Thor, Loki, The Grandmaster, Valkyrie, and some Hulk. Rating: G Summary: concept: lemme add Jane in to Thor 3 for fun and bc I am who I am.  note: this is pretty sure so i’m posting the whole thing here and xposting to ao3 which I rarely do but this was more me warming up my writing muscles so it’s rough as hell.

“What the—”Jane looked at the room she was in and couldn't understand what was happening. Where was she? How was she here? Five minutes ago she had been on Earth and Thor had been off planet. Now she was in a strangely opulent and extremely alien room. The face this wasn't the first time it had happened to her should have worried more, but Jane ignored that fact, shook off the dregs of sleep clinging to her and headed to the door.

Unsurprisingly, they were locked.

She tugged again and then for good measure kicked them.

Part of her wanted to yell out for Thor. She shook that off as well. There was no telling he was on the planet with her. He definitely wasn’t in the room with her and his hearing wasn’t that great. It’d be useful and right now she couldn’t waste a minute. There were no windows in the room, but and it was entirely possible the door was alien and the locking mechanism was equally alien but hey, it never hurt to try. She kneeled by the door, inspecting the mechanism. It definitely wasn’t Terran or Asgardian in nature.

On her third attempt to figure out the lock and see what would be the best way to approach getting herself out of this room the doors started opening.

Jane stepped back, her hands going behind her back. She eyed the table to her left and cursed herself for not making a weapon out of it.

It wouldn't have matter, she quickly realised. She was definitely on an alien planet. The three figures that stepped into the room were tall, one thin and lanky, the other two stocky and muscular. Sentries, she thought. And the man between them probably their boss. He was tall. Very tall. Maybe as tall as Thor. His hair was grey and his lips had a blue line down the middle. It looked like some eighties makeup gone awry.

He grinned when he noticed she was awake and clapped his hands. His smile was wide and perfect. Jane thought it looked creepy.

"Welcome, Ms. Foster? That is your name right?"

"Who are you and what the hell do you want with me?"

The man grinned. "Now, Ms. Foster--"

"Doctor!"

"Ms. Doctor?"

Jane growled and told herself it wasn't worth it. It wasn't. She was on an alien world and they probably didn't know what the hell a PHD was or care. Don’t make an issue out of it, Jane, she told herself. Don’t make an issue out of it.

She made an issue out of it.

"It's Dr. Foster! Now, who the hell are you and want do you want with me?”

The man looked even more amused at her. Jane was really starting to dislike him.

"Oh, yes, of course. I think that did come up in the research we did into you. And to answer your question, Doctor Foster, you're here because it seems you're just what we need to make our endeavour successful."

Jane couldn't have been more confused. "What the hell are you talking about? What endeavour?"

“You’ll see. Now, if you’ll come with me. We need your presence elsewhere.”

“If you think, I’m just going to go somewhere you—“

Fun fact: alien tasers were painless compared to Earth’s.

-

So, that was Thor.

She really shouldn’t have been surprised. In fact, she wasn’t. There were really only two reasons she figured alien race would be interested in her and Thor was generally at the top of the list. However, she wasn’t prepared for the state she saw him in. It was— If she wasn’t being held back what looked like biological engery bindings she’d had slap the blue off that lanky asshole alien’s face.

Thor was shackled. His hair shorn short. It had lost all of it's lustre, she couldn't help but notice. The blond completely gone, instead it looked a muddy brown. She had always teased him about if he got that blond colour naturally or if it was some Asgardian hair care regime. Now, she knew. She wished she didn’t.

It still looked soft under all the sweat, blood, and grim. She still wanted to brush it away from where it was matted against his forehead. She wanted to hurt whoever cut it.

"Thor?" she choked out. The shock mixing with her anger and fear, because if Thor was shackled, beaten, and captured they were in some real shit. It meant he didn’t have Mijlonir with him.

He looked up at then. Not because he heard her, he was too far away to hear her surprised whisper at seeing him in the middle of what seemed to be a gladiator arena. He looked up because the tall alien man announced himself and made him look up.

“Prince of Asgard! You refused to fight before today, but maybe now you’ll find purpose in this grand stage! Fight or she will be thrown in with the Champion instead of you.”

The man waved his hand over to Jane, who was unceremoniously shoved forward. She cursed at the guard who did. Below her she watched as Thor’s face turned. There was almost 100 yards between them but she felt the moment he noticed her.

His yell echoed through the arena.

“Thor!” she shouted, pushing forward, shoving past the tall man. Grandmaster, she heard one of the guards say. He waved them off. “No, let her,” he said. He wanted a show. Jane felt her anger rise.

“Don’t listen to him!” she said, not knowing if Thor could even hear her. Her purpose her was too clear now. She was the carrot. The bribe. This Grandmaster wanted Thor to fight in their games. He must have been refusing somehow so they grabbed her. How did they know about her though, she thought, for a brief second, before she heard the thunder rumble overhead. Thor might not have the hammer, but she knew he didn’t need it to control the weather to some degree.

He pulled his helmet down.

In the arena the audience cheered.

The Grandmaster laughed. He turned to his left where Jane noticed the silent presence in the corner. “I told you we’d get him to comply.”

“You fucking asshole!” Jane tried to punch him. He definitely deserved more than a slap this time, but was held back by the guards. The thunder rumbled again.

Loki looked away from her. He spoke to the Grandmaster. “And he campion he’ll have to beat?”

“Oh, sit down, it’ll be a nice surprise.”

Loki sat.

She was not a creative curser, but she a feeling she got her point across when she noticed Loki’s shoulders stiffen before he went back to ignoring her.

The Grandmaster nodded and Jane was shoved to the side. A woman came to her side and pushed the guard off Jane. She had medium brown skin and marking on her face. Something about her reminded Jane of Natasha. She lead Jane to a seat and handed her a drink. “Take it, it will not be a pretty fight,” the woman said. Her brown eyes were hard but for a brief moment they held a glimmer of sympathy. Jane didn’t take the drink, but clutched the cup in her hands. Whoever this Champion is was awed and feared and Thor as strong as he was naturally was without the hammer. Without Sif and the Warriors Three. Without the Avengers. Jane believed in his strength but she always preferred to know someone was watching his back. Jane took a sip and coughed. The woman next to her almost seemed to smile.

Jane watched as the Grandmaster called for the fight to begin. She watched as The Champion barrelled through the arena—

When the Hulk broke through the door, she couldn’t help it, she laughed. She laughed so hard her eyes teared up and in the arena Thor yelled in happiness.

Across the room from her she watched Loki’s face had become even paler than usual and snorted. She took a huge gulp of the drink and coughed even more. It was gross as fuck.

As Thor and the Hulk charged at each other she had a feeling they might end up being okay after all. She finished the drink. It really was horrible.

[velteris]

I've been following you for a really long time and this is the first time I've ever wanted to ask you a question. But why would you go camping alone without any light? That's just a really dumb thing to do...

(in ref to my tags here im pretty sure)

gather round, dear followers, for a series of anecdotes from Hell Camp, the source of my best and worst stories

when i was twelve my school sent all its year nine students class by class to a five-week camp, which will henceforth be called Hell Camp. here is the setup:

a four-hour drive out of the city into the outback, where there is a farm owned by the school for the express purpose of hosting Hell Camp

28 girls and 28 boys, each in their own dorm houses

no phones. no computers, no ipods, no TV. no internet (within our reach). we cooked our own food on fire stoves and wrote letters by hand to our parents and friends

no lollies, no soft drinks or juice, all our eggs and milk came off the farm

wake up at 5:30am every day to go for a 3km run and then chores on the farm, from milking the cows to chopping our firewood

Bible study every night because this was a Christian private school

“why???” u may ask. “why did your school subject tweens to a month of this???” supposedly to build character and teach u life skills but tbh idk how knowing how to crack a bullwhip is supposed to help me in life

but it wasnt just five weeks straight of same ol farm life there were other activities they had us do!! camp-like activities!! for example:

Pre-Survival

three days to prepare us because we were innocent younglings who barely knew how to start a fire

basically a campsite in the middle of fuckass nowhere? we rode horses there while the counselors (the Hell Camp resident teachers, but ones that deadlift 50kgs and kill spiders without batting an eye) drove with our bags and stuff and laughed as we got inevitably lost

have u ever used a dunny u have to empty urself

it is so gross. there is a field marked out explicitly for burying everyone’s shit, and u have to take turns. so gross. 

there was a shower which was a metal shed with a bucket of water hung up, which u heated over the fire before u went in and prayed it wasn’t too hot

this was like winter time and we slept in swags on the ground and when we woke up there was frost on our swags

i made an iron horseshoe??? the temptation to touch red hot metal is ridiculous tbh it looks so pretty

someone did touch theirs. it was not me. i heard them yell from across the field where i was helping feed horses.

in the middle of the second night the counselors took us to a giant rock in the middle of the bush where u could see the stars and it was amazing you could see the milky way and everything… but the thing was we had to spend the previous 20 minutes in the dark to get our eyes used to it so they had us hold onto each other’s sleeves and walk blindly into this rugged, rock-covered trail through pitch blackness, praying no one in front is going the wrong way

and then. the counselors played a trick on us by getting one of the kids to stay back in the forest and waited to see how long we’d notice. we didn’t notice until it was time to go back im so sorry Kimmy

Survival

ok this the real shit you went with the same group you were with in pre-survival and the counselors drove you out into the depths of the outback and dropped you and your group off with some tools, food, and tarpauline

and then u just lived out there for three days.

we couldn’t start a fire our first night because it’d been raining before??? our dinner was supposed to be rice, potatoes and carrots, and the carrots were the only edible thing bc u cant eat raw rice and raw potatoes.. u just cant.

there were wild dogs around. we never saw them, but we heard them awoo-ing a lot. so whenever someone split off from the main camp to go pee like two other girls would accompany them as an honor guard, singing Kumbaya to keep the hounds away

sometimes people would go alone and then there would be a Sound in the bush and then you’d just hear them screaming “MAMA’S MAKING KAN TONG”

on our last day the counselors set up targets with drawings of kangaroos on them, handed us a bow and 20 arrows, and said “if u can shoot the kangaroo we’ll give u sausages for your last meal”

never in my life will i ever see such ferocity from 12- to 13-year-old hungry girls again

when it was another group’s turn to be on survival, my group was on normal farm duty, and we were out clearing bush scrub when we heard the survival group girls talking and we realised we’d gotten too close.

“hello?? hello??? is anyone out there?” “oh my god someone’s out there oh my god we’re gonna die” “COME OUT, WE HAVE WEAPONS”

THIS WAS A LIE. WE KNEW DAMN WELL THEY HAD THE SAME THINGS AS US AND THOSE THINGS WERE TWO SHOVELS AND A HEAVY DUTY CLIPPER.

and our fucking counselor just went “shhh!!” to us and herded us back like he just straight up left those nine girls thinking there were bush serial killers out for them

also apparently a tree fell on someone’s head at some point in their survival

at night we slept in a row like snuggling each other cause it was So Fracking Cold and lemme tell u it’s an experience being spooned by the girl who used to sigh whenever you raised your hand in class

Four Day Hike

what it says on the label

55km in four days, carrying all your food, sleeping bags, tents, clothes, toilet paper etc. and minimum 2L of water bottles you could refill at big barrels set out at designated stop points

this is, without a doubt, the single worst experience of my life

nothing good happens when u hand a group of kids a map and a compass and tell them “we’ll look for you if you’re not at the campsite by sundown but apart from that you’re on your own”

i was with an athletic group of kids?? they were Walking So Fast and i was just staggering along with my unfit friend like this is how i die on a godforsaken hill on our way to god knows where

actually i had an asthma attack and they left me behind for a bit fun times

the hike went through some willing farmers’ land and one boy who stupidly climbed a fence got chased by a bull

they sent us off group by group so we’d all make our own way, so whenever u bumped into another group you were like. okay one of us was going the wrong way and it better fucking well be you

there weren’t any showers or anything so we basically all wore the same clothes for four disgustingly sweaty days of hiking

someone used an anthill as a toilet bc it had a nice big hole to drop ur toilet paper down

the ants did not appreciate this

when you run out of toilet paper and it’s only 11am

Solo

this was it. the culmination of the camp. the ultimate character building experience.

which was just 24 hours of alternating boredom and sudden visceral terror now that i think about it

u got dropped off (again in the middle of nowhere see a theme yet) with tarp, a lil trowel, and a clipper, and u just set up camp and did whatever u wanted for 24 hours

they let u bring a bible.

i got really into Leviticus and Deutoronomy before it went dark

listen it was really really boring ok

AND HERE IT IS THE BIT WHERE I DIDN’T HAVE LIGHT WHILE CAMPING ALONE

listen when the sun goes down at 5pm, u go down too. there’s nothing else u can do?? u just gotta sleep???

or, like me, lie awake in mortal terror listening to the bush Come Alive

when the wallaby goes THUMP-THUMP-THUMP and you’re like holy shit this is it the abominable loch ness chupycabra has manifested in the australian outback and it’s going to eat me alive jesus christ protect me with the power of this bible

hence the sheer relief when the sun finally comes out and u can walk around without living in fear of accidentally walking face first into a spiderweb or scratchy lantana bushes

also a mini survey went around afterwards and i’m pretty sure a solid 60% of the girls took a shit on solo like… at long last u can take as long in the toilet as u want… without the other 27 girls banging on the door……

other miscellaneous stories that dont fit anywhere else:

one of the boys went missing?? he wandered off and couldn’t remember anything when they found him in the middle of the bush. cryptic

there was this one homesick girl who was REALLY homesick like she cried every day of the five weeks. by the end of the camp she’d approached everyone to talk about her Feelings and you’d just kind of groan softly when u saw her coming towards your bunk bc u knew u were in for a hopeless comforting session

on sundays sometimes we went to the nearby town’s elderly home to talk to the old folks and some of us could play music so we did little performances for them which was rly sweet!

there were lambs on the farm!! we named them Uggboot and i think Fleece Jacket or smth like that

there were cows too!! meat cows!! they were Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner

my first time on cow milking duty i tried to herd the bull towards the milking pens bc i did not realise he was not a cow. i quickly realised when he took very fast steps towards me and i Got The Dodge Out Of There

we spit roasted an entire pig for the final feast before we left and i will never forget it. the first time in my life i had crackling. half the group was weak in the knees cause we saw the pig get slaughtered and the other half was just “sweet, more for me”

whenever the new fruit delivery came in and the hunger games commenced in the kitchen… tween girls are actually ravenous wolves u heard it here first folks

when u going to the bathroom in the bush and u feel something touch your butt… is it a stray hair? is it a piece of grass? is it a bug??? who knows but nothing makes your bowels loosen faster

the unholy horror of finding spiders wherever you least expect it

ANTS IN THE SUGAR

“I saw Goody Proctor with the devil leaving the cupboard open for the ants!!!”

honestly so many things happened at Hell Camp that i can’t remember most of them anymore and it Rankles Me bc i know there were so many wild stories but here you go. some of the wildest ones.

11/10 went back to Hell Camp voluntarily once, would go back again again.